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COPYRIGHT. 1879.

Br Enos: 5: Aunts.

 

Published Every
Month.

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The Iris—gh' taplain :

A TALE OF FONTENOY.

BY FREDERICK WHTI'I‘AKER,

Amos or “ms aussus srr," “was no mm,"
rm, rm, rrc.

 

CHAPI‘ER I.

m tron.
"Ts-u-u—u-u-usl“ rung the deep, mellow
notes of the fibre“. French hunting-horns. throu h
the arches of 0 Forest of Fontainebleau, and t 0
music of the clamoring pack. as the ran to and fro,
baying in diflerent tones, announc that the bounds
were at fault,“ the quarry having temporarily ee-

ca them

ntly there was aloud burst of cries, the horns
sounded a

bounds on he recovered scent.
The morning sun shone down through the early
mists that hung over the forest, where the great

 

ay burst of triumph, and away went the ‘

trees, undisturbed for many hundred years, had at- ‘,

tained enormous size. Here and there little hills,
whose muggy and broken sides oflered a charming

Etrrsnsn AB Sscnsn Cums Mn'rss A’l' was New Yomt. N. Y., Pos'r Orrics.

 

 

M. J. IVERS & (Y1)... Publishers
(JAMES SULLIVAN. Puormsmn),
379 Pearl Street. New York.

miniature of in er mountains, relieved the mono-
tony of the woo s, and gave support to banks of
beautiful orchids, that simulated with curious fidel-
ity bees just aiighted on the flower-cups! Violets
and anemones perfumed the air of the valleys, and
the sharp clatter of the squirrels was heard on the
trees, as the sau little creatures scampered up and
down, whisking t eir tails as if to ask one another
what all this noise was about; for the haying of the
hounds echoed for miles.

There is something peculiarly inspiring and delight-
ful in the sound of a pack in full or ', that communi-
cates a vague longing to the coolest listener. and
causes even delicate ladies to be carried away in the
rush of the chase. When to the ammds of a great
hunt are added its H'Ihta, the eager pack, the horses,
with their eyes aflarne, striving in noble. emulation.
the ay colors of the riders, and the echoes of the
mel ow hunting-horns. it is no wonder that the en-
chantment is overpoweri . and that persons once
addictc i to the chase soon iscover a perfect passion
thereft 1'.

Such was the ease with a oung man, who was
wande 'lng (pensiver through the aisles of the forest,
on foot, an had been so wandering since sunrise.

lie v as a handsome young fellow, tall and strong,

",I'he bee orchis isve common in the forest of
Fontninebleau. 1t exact y resembles a bee alighted
on a flower.

 

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FOR If? SARI HPARE

 

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with the mien of a entleman, though his dress was
that of a private soldier, ofl duty. bomethin in his
pale intellectual face, lighted up by dreamy dar eggs,
and distinguished from that of civilians by ab k
mustache, announced that he was no ordinary man.
To a military observer, there were some points about
the youth that indicated his 1position to be somewhat
above that of a common solt ier.

10 Cents a Copy.
$1.00 a Year.

 

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i
1

l

To explain these signs is to sa that the young man 3

was what was then called a ‘ a gentleman volun-
teer.“

The Position was then a common one for ouths of
good amily, without the mono and in mace to
secure commissions at once.
volunteer in question was that of Lord Clare‘s regi-
ment of horse in the renowned Irish Brigade, and his
name was Gerald Desmond.

Young Desmond was wandering dreamin through
the forest, his eyes roaming in a sort of sensuous
ecstasy over the beautiful scene around him, and
his face indicating a state of rfect ha piness, when
the distant cry of the houn s first bro 'e on his ear.
Faint, and mellowed by the haz atmos here of
early morning, the sound blendet in per ect har-
mony with the mild monotone of the breeze amo
the branches. At first the wanderer hardl seeme
to notice it so absorbed was he in vague reams of
beauty. T en. as it grew louder, and plainly ap-

proached him, he started from his reverie and listen-
ed, his eye kindling with pleasure, for, as we have

     

e uniform of the i

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

2

 

naid, the contagion is hard to resist, and this youth
was a keen huntsman. .

He turned and peered anxiously in the direction of
the sound, and a moment later clap ed his hands
with excitement as he involuntarily ut cred the mer-

ry cry:

“A 11 hauls .’ Tarmac!"

There, before his eyes, at a hundred aces dis-
tance, a noble stag bounded ast, horns aid back
on the shoulders. nose pointed orwai-d, as the hunt-
ed creature darted under the shade of an avenue of
grand old oaks, and sped away through the forest.

Then the loud ba ng of the hounds sounded near-
er. The stag was ust out of sight when they came
into view in full cry, and swept down the same ave—
nue with unerring scent led by an old black-and-tan
hound, whose deep, be -like voice rung out in tri-
umph as he went.

Riveted to the spot in admiration, quivering with
contaoious excitement, Gerald Desmond stood watch-
ing, wclien out of the forv'st swept a brave train of
ti ers, following a single man, small and mean l‘l
figure, bumping up and down in his demipiquc sad-
dle in a manner that showed him a poor rider, but—
wearing the broad blue ribbon over his shoulder that
announced him to be of ro al blood.

“ The king himself, by eve!" muttered Desmond,
with a start, as he watched the glittering train
sweep by. At the word he step )cd behind a tree, as
if fearing to be seen, and watc ed the hunt from a
safe covert. He could see several ladies in the train,
and strangest of all, a long, lumbering coach of curi-
ous make came on the heels of the riders,drawn at full
8 ed by a half-dozen gray horses. This strange ve-

cle boasted a lofty, gilded box in front, with a gor-

eous hammer-clot , embroidered with the arms of

rance. The body was some twenty feet in length,
and cylindrical in shape, with a double foot-board.
On it sat five or six cliasseurs, as if in the saddle, a
foot on each side, their guns before them. Over the
hind wheels was a hood and seats like an ordinary
wagon and within the latter vehicle was a lady.

Gera d recognized in a moment the celebrated
hunting-chariot of the king, but he could not help
laughing at the awkward iigure cut b the chas-
seurs, astraddle on the body, as the chariot humped
over the uneven ground.

A moment later the hunters had swept by, and
Desmond was alone.

“Well,” said the youth, with a deep breath of re-
lief, “ ’tis just as well I was not seen, or it might be
a week‘s guard-room for me. "

He stood for a few moments listening to the
sounds of the chase.

“ They are getting round toward Melun." he mut-
tered. “I must make the best of my way back to
the palace. If they see me I may get into a scrape
for being out of bounds."

And he turned his face in the direction of the pal-
ace, where his regiment was then on guard. It was
as he had said. Under the forest laws of France,
and still more under the ceremonial that governed
the troops, the young volunteer was liable to severe

unishment,‘ he having wandered out of bounds, iii-

0 the royal preserves, where no one was allowed
save by the king’s invitation.

It was no wonder that Gerald turned to retrace
his steps to get out of the further track of the hunt.

He had hardly gone twenty feet toward the pal-
ace, when he heard a sharp, cracked voice calling:

“Holal monsieur, who are you?"

 

CHAPTER II.
A nnAvn nor.

Tm: young soldier stopped at the sound of that
voice, and looked aroun .

Some one was approaching him at a gentle trot,
mounted on a fat 1 tie cob, and very unli e the gag'
riders who had just assed by. Gerald contempe: -
ed hiifi, in spite of h s apprehension at having n
discovered. with no little amusement. O

The new-comer was wrapped from head to foot in
along brown mquelaure a sort of sack-coat reach-
ing to the heels, and only worn by old pgople. Al-
thou h he was on horseback, he seemed be unpro-
vide with boots, then deemed indispensable, and
his buckled shoes and silk stockings were fitted for
a drawin -room. From under is broad, three-
comered at, and between the ed esof the ii turned
collar of the roquelaure, pee out a th n, pale
face, with long nose and very sharp eyes, while an
e ression of sneerin sarcasm sat on the large
infill pod mouth. is rsonage was crouched
down n his saddle, as if sh vering with cold, though
the air was quite mild, and addressed the young sol-
dier in the same shrill, cracked voice:

“Well, monsieur; you do not answer. Who are

on?”
y Gerald looked up at the other somewhat haughti-

y“ Does not my uniform tell you? For my name, it
is nothing to you." ‘

The keen-looking old gentleman—mils voice told his
age—allowed a smile to cross his wasted counte-
nance, and the effect was magical. The sneering look
disappeared, and the withered, parchment-like face
scorned to be illuminated with a lory of kindness.

“ M young friend," he said, “ did not mean to
be ru e, but took. you for one of his majesty’s for-
esters, and as such, wished to ask you which way
the hunt had gone." .

Gerald's face cleared and he removed his hat.

“Pardon, monsieur,’ he said, res tfully. “ The
hunt has passed toward Melun, but t is sure to make
a circuit. The stag always runs in a circle, and
comes back to his 0 d haunts at evening. Listen to
thehltiounds, and you’ll find they’re heading to the

now.
he stranger uttered an impatient exclamation.

“ Socratic! That I was a fool to come out! When
I might be enjoying a quiet (in with my b0 ks, here
I am followin a will-of-the- , to gain t, e favor-
of Louis the oil Beloved. hi I will go home.
Who am I at m age, to come out on cold mornings
and trust myne on a wild hornet '

Desmond could hardly help laughing at the other‘s
com laintl.

“ y, inonsieur." he said, am 1y, “you can
not complain of the animal you ride. seems quiet

cuffs I acknowledge it, my friend. Have I not
told stablemnn to ve me the gentlest creature
in the stalls? A figure I should

\

cut one

 

The Irish Captain;

prancer. But, is there no short cut by which I can
get to see the hunt .9"

“ Certainly," said the soldier, politely. “If you
stay here you will soon find them crossing the paths
to Fontainebleau. If the Grand Huntsman is not
abroad, you will have no trouble."

The stranger eyed the youth keenlyfi

LVXhat do you mean by the Grand untsman?" he
as c .

Gerald crossed himself piously, and his compan-
ion‘s face instantly became moc 'ing and sarcastic,
as the soldier said:

“The Grand Huntsman is a demon that haunts
these woods, and God deliver us if we hear his
hounds, inonsieur. One of us will die within the
year." ,

The stranger burst into a. shrill, cackling lau h.

“ Eli, mon, Dieu .”‘ he exclaimed, “ who woul have
thought it? The eighteenth century has not lost all
its superstitions et. Come, man rsmi, let us go hunt
up this Grand untsman, and show him that de-
mons vanish in the light of reason.”

Gerald drew back.

“ I am sorry, inonsieur.“ he answered, “ that I can
not go with you, but I have strayed out of bounds
in my love 0 nature and if I am found by those 0
the court, I may suffer punishment. I must return
to my quarters.”

The stranger shook his head musiiigly, as he mur—
mured:

" And these men they call heroes, ke t in bounds
like truant schoolsbovs, and proud of t ieir degrada—
tlion, for they hold their heads up, these same sol-
( iers.’

Then he turned to Gerald with the same rare and
beautiful smile that he had before shown, and ad-
dressed him kindly:

“My young friend, if you will stay with me and
guide me into the path of this hunt, so that I may
see it without endangering my old bones, I can en-
ga e to hold you harmless for the act."

erald stared at the enigmatical old man, who
laughed.

“ Alil thou believest not that an old fellow like me
can do such things; but know, young man that
brains are a commodity of which the world is begin-
ning to appreciate the value at last. I tell thee that
I can ma e the king for 've thee. if I wish.”

Gerald bowed respect ull , saying:

“ Your excellcncy mustt ien bea minister of state
or some very great personage. I trust you would
not deceive me, inonsieur."

Again the stranger smiled.

" Whatever men say of me, they never call me a
deceiver. I proclaim the truth, and they call me
infidel, but my worst enemies, the priests, admit
that I tell the truth as I believe it, if they curse
me for it. Let your mind he at rest about me. I
will see you harmless. Now guide me toward the
hunt.’

Gerald made no more objections. There was
something about his singular companion that im-
pressed him with a sense of superiority, and his

rusque manner (lid not tend to remove t e impres-
sion. Without a word, the young soldier started
forward on the track.

The sounds of the chase were still faintly audible
iii the still woods, and, as Gerald had predicted,
they were evidently sweeping in a vast. circle to-
ward a point where he knew that many of the hunts
had terminated in times past. It was in a lonely
glade, in the center of which towered a single gi-

antic oak, twenty feet across at the butt, and

nown throughout the forest as “The Pharamond,"
from a tradition that it was planted by the first of
the French kings, a likely conceit, in view of its
great age. '

It was beneath the shade of the Pharamond oak,
likewise, that “ Robin des Bois,“ or the Grand Hunts-
man, was said to hold his nightly meetin , with
Spectral hounds, before taking the trail of nvisible

car by moonlight.

It was uite ssible that the oung soldier might
have hes tate to a roach t is mystic spot at
nightfall, for Gerald esmond as brave as a lion,
was yet superstitious as all 0 his race and creed.
In the mornin light with a companion who laugh~
ed all supersti ion to scorn, he was ashamed to heal-

tate.
ficcordingly he led the way toward the Pharamond
o

a .

As they approached the place, they could hear
the hounds coming toward them, tho h in acir—
cuitous direction, and they plunged e r and
deeper into the forest, takin advantage 0 the val-
lc s to ease the route. All t e we Gerald’s eccen-
ti c companion kept up an anima conversation,
succeeding, with rent skill, in drawing the oung
soldier to talk of mseli', his hopes, and wis es, in
all of which the old gentleman seemed take a
lively interest.

At last they entered a ve of trees of remarka-
ble hight, and then sud enly emerged in an Open
green lade of the forest, surrounded with all
gracefu birch trees, in the midst of which towered
a single oak tree of gigantic size, whose to waved
in the breeze at a hundred and flftyfeet rom the

round. It was the renowned Pharamond oak, stand-
lz in solitary grandeur in its forest tern 1e.

n{ierald's com anion uttered an express on of great

admiration, as e gazed up at the forest giant, but
he was prevented rom speaking]. The next minute
into the solita glade dashed t e hunted stag, and
r bin up to t e old oak, turned and stood at bay,
w h h back to the grand old tree.

Right 0 posits to the two wanderers was an open
avenue, rough the birch ve, overarched with
bright foliage, and within t at fpicturesque frame
the royal lpeck came dashing orward, a brilliant
mass of co or in the midst of which a splendid black
horse, evidently ungovernable, bore' the re of one
of the ladierthnt Gerald had noticed in t e hunt.

She was alone, the rest of the hunters having been
distanced at the severe pace.

On came the hounds and the runaway horse, and
then, with a wild clamor of haying voices, the pack
rushed at the tit-(g.

But the king 0 the wood: was not dismayed. His
branching horns waved in the air, and came down
with a fenrful blow on the foremost dogs. trend! n3
two of them. With a deep bellow of anger the I
shook o assailnn s, tamed among the
mix, at with his shuzo o cot, “W

dogs, till a boldutrnn wlinghnek, My-

 

 

ed in acircle. It was all done in a few moments,
and then the wild runaway horse came dashing Lp,
excited by the chase, and was charged by the angry
s .

(garald and his companion had been watching the
scene spellbound, but now the young soldier flashed
out his ra icr and ran shouting across the glade.

He was oolatel

Before he arrived, the furious stag had gored and
overthrown the headless yo horse, and stood
with his fore-feet on the anima , his eyes sparkling
with furv, while his horns menaced death to the
fallen la y. / (

Gerald could see her instinctively throw up her
arms in vain defense, and then the antlers of the
stag were descending, when the volunteer, with a
last an rhuman effort, reached the stag, wreathed
his leflz)e hand in the shaggy hair on t e animal’s
breast, and drove his rapier through and through
the heart, throwin the carcass oi! t e horse by the
main strength of h s rush.

In an instant the hounds were clamoring round the
carcass, and the lad was safe.

Gerald turned, an found her lying partly under
the dying horse, which was struggli to rise.

With the same quick courage an decision that
had marked all his conduct, the young soldier
snatched her away from the new danger, and car—
ried her back several paces, when he dlSCOVel‘k‘d, by
the lifeless weight that hung in his arms, that the
lad had fainted.

'I’hcn, for the first time, he looked closely at her,
and discovered that she was young and beautiful,
with fair curling hair asweet face, full of intellect
even in the swoon, with a beautifully-rounded figure,
which was attired in a riding-dress of the richest
materials.

Involuntarilv Gerald’s heart swelled with a new
and straii e feclin . He had saved the life of a
beautiful ady, evi entlv of the highest rank, and
she lay in his arms, helpless and uiiresisting. '

How long he might have stood thus. and what
v ie dreams he might have dreamt, is uncertain,
bu he was awakened by the sharp voice of his ec-
centric companion.

“ Brave] done. by my faith, young Irelander! By
the blue eavenl I thought she was doomed. Whom
hast thou therei",

Ashe spoke he pressed his cob forward to get a
nearer view of the lady’s face, and uttered an excla~
mation of surprise.

It was drowned in the shouts of the rest of the
hunters, who ust then dashed into the glade, with a
tremendous b owing of horns, and came galloping
u to surround the ack.

fin the confusion that followed, Gerald was hardly
conscious of his actions. He remained with the in-
animate lady in his arms, forgetful of all else, while
the buzz of uestions and answers above his head
sounded bewi dering.

He could distinguish the sharp tones of his new
acquaintance among these, but presently there was
a Silence, in the midst of which a smooth, somewhat
querulous voice demanded:

“Who is be? What does he here?"

“ I asked him to guide me hither, our majesty,"
answered Gerald‘s friend, “ and but or his courage
and presence of mind, madame would now be out of
your majestiv‘s reach in the place where kings are
never wishe , except by their successors."

Gerald looked up for the first time, and found him--
self the center of a group of courtiers on horsebac
all of whom were regarding him with glances
covert dislike. His new friend stood on foot b the
side of the king’s horse, and Louis the Well Be oved
was regarding the young volunteer with a look of
fretful ill-temper.

At that moment the young lady stirred in his
arms, uttered a deep sigh, and came out of ha.-
swoon.

When she opened her large blue eyes, they met
the dark orbs of myoung Desmond fixed on her own,
and she smiled f ntly, murmuring softly:

“ 0’“! tot, mon «mi, grace a Dim !”

“It is' thou m friend, thank Godl"

Gerald flush scarlet at the address. He did not.
dare to look up, but he heard a faint titter among
the courtiers. and then his eccentric friend bru ues
ly advanced and relieved him of his lovelyb on.
saying, in a low, guarded voice:

‘Re You are in dm.
1!

tire at once, young man.

r. .

Gerald’s eyes met his, doubtfully, but there was
something so warning in the look of his late cont
panion that he involuntarily obeyed. The horsemen
made way for his departure, with sneers on their
smooth faces. and the oung soldier glucked out mg.
rapier from the slain oer, and'left e glade, h g
state of bewildered amazement.

CHAPTER III.

1 m x $131}: ‘ii: rfimP ris col
:4 ecano ens yana were .
lected crowds of officers and of the gentlemen volun-
tears of various regiments composing the garrison,
for there were wars and rumors of wars with Eng.
land and Austria, and Marshal Saxe had been'ap-

pointed commander-inchief of the frontiers.
In one of these ches, the la est on the square, the
n uniforms of the Irish B ade were prominent.
or it was their favorite restaurant. At one of the
largest tables sat three ntlemen volunteers, cl
wearing the cuirass of are’s re iment of bone,
with broad-skirted coats, heavy ts, and long

at stature with a

 

' straight swords.

One of these was a man of
fiery red mustache, curling u
glow of his hair seemed y to burn throug
powder with which it was dressed. His face was by
no means handsome. being deeply pitted with the
small-pox, but its owner had an air of satisfied van-
ity that proclaimed his own opinion of his good
00 s.

The second was a SEO“ young man, with broad
shoulders intense] b hair and thin m
with black e es. Ila was tnciturn and some
sullen in or, but had a low, sweet voice of n-
mgl'lkinble melody.

theparty.

Thethroo seemed tobe oldand intimate m

from theirmnnnertowardjnch other and the
twain-imam nepoochtobenldin
“mmnaw m

his e while the
"a. h the

idcuneGei-aid Desmond,tho handmade! ‘

 

 

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“Ye did foinely. me boy, foinely, and it's not all
the courtiers of the French king that'll make Jack
Carroll deny that same. What matter if the black-
guards did trate you rudely, isn't it the way an Irish-
man must expect to be trated by all the world, till
we come to our own again? Ah, Gerald, it won‘t be
forever we‘ll be loungin‘ 'round Paris, ‘ating our
hearts out with impatience. We'll meet the red-
coats soon now, and their we'll see if ouid Louis
won‘t think better of his Irish Brigade."

Gerald shr ged his shoulders.

“ What‘s t e use of boasting Jack?" he said,
quietly. “We Irish always have en fools enou h
to throw awa our blood in other people‘s uarre s _
and always s all. I suppose I was just sue 1 a fool
to save the lady‘s life. I ownI expected a civrl
word, instead of sour looks, but it‘s no more than an
Irishman always gets. What do on say, Billy t"

The dark young man spoke, in ris low you-e.

“I think that you must have saved some great
court lady, perhaps one of the princesses, and the
oourtiers are 'ealous. That‘s ails"

Jack Carrol burst into a roar of laughter, as he,
clap )ed the other on the shoulder.

‘ dilly Cavanagh, ye‘re a jewel, so ye are, to foind
out the whole myster '. Sure it‘sas )lain as the nose
on yer face, Desmon . What wouk ye be wantm‘,
to o stickin‘ your Irish mug in among thim Frinch
lo , and they all hangin' on the king‘s skirts for a
male of victuals. What for should they thank ye?”

Desmond laughed. He was used to his friend‘s
ro h jesting.

“ suppose you‘re right, Jack," he said; and there
the subject ended; for at that minute a party ad-
vanced and occupied the next table to that at winch
the Irish volunteers were sitting.

The new-comers were also private soldiers, but of
a ver different corps. one in which the privates were
all 0 noble blood, and able to rank as officers in
other co The ' belonged to the famous regiment
organiz in the ays of Louis XIII. and known as
the “Black Musketeers,” whose duties were round
the king‘s rsou, and whose commander took pre-
cedence o the marshals of France themselvts.

There Were three of these Black Musketeers at
the table all handsome, conceited young fellows, of
the best families, dressed in the magnificent uniform
of their corps, of white and crimson. The title
“ Black " was given to them from the color of their
horses, there being other companies known as the
“Gray” and the “Red” from the same circum-
stance.

From their very first entrance there had been a
bush in the restaurant, for it was seldom that a lins-
keteer was seen there. Each regiment had its favor-
ite haunts and this cafe was considered sacred to
the Irish, écotch and other foreign troo )8, who had
entered the king‘s service from that o the exiled
Stuarts of En land.

As the Mus eteers, and indeed all the Household
‘l‘roo were notorious duelists, it was at once di-
vin t t the three gentlemen in question had a
quarrel with some one in the room, and when they
selected their table, every one judged that they must
be near their antagonists, whoever they were.

Such were the notions of honor prevalent at the
time, that no one in the room took any notice of the
strangers beyond an occasional glance that way over
the rim 0 a glass, while drinking.

The Musketeers rap on the floor with their
scabbards, and called or wine which was speedily
furnished them. The Irish culrassiers at the next
table had become silent or conversed in low tones in
their own pongue, which was incomprehensible to
the Frenchmen, as the knew.

Presently one of the usketeers filled his glam, and
said:

“ Messieurs, I am about to pro 'a toast."

“ Let us have it, St. Foix,“ a farrjhaired youth,
rtretching his frame, lazily. “Only give us one we
can all drink."

St. Foix was a handsome, insolent young man
with dark face and aquiline features. He looke
around with a peculiar smile at the next table and

d.
“I will ve you one, Granville, that all must
drink, or ‘11 know the reason why. Fill your

1 . .

8 Then he step ii cloae to Desmond, and ad-
dressed him wi grea politeness, but witha mock-
ing smile:

‘ Monsieur, you will not refuse to drink our toast,
I am sure?" u i

“ When I know what‘it is, I may answer, rephed
Gerald, uietly.

“ You ave reason, sir. My toast is, ‘ France for
Frenchmen i’ Refuse it if you dare.“

In a moment Gerald was on his feet. From the
first he had suspected that an insult was intended
to him, and he felt ready to meet it. The toast
was unexoeptionable in words, but its spirit was
a reflection on the foreigners. Gerald raised his
glass, and spoke in a loud, clear tone, amid a n-
:ral-liush, for every one was now watching em

ee .

“ Cgmradea, I ho we shall all drink that toast. I
will for one, and ve it in full: ‘ France for Franch-
men, Ireland for he Irish, and God for us all!’

In a moment a rousing cheer went in from every
table, and every glass was em tied. raid smiled
at his antagonist, who was en quite aback. and
sat down. ,
8t. Foix remained standing, withhis untasted glass
in his hand, annoying Desmond with a sneer. As
soon as the room was silent, he spoke very clearly
and distinctly:

“Sir, I agree with your sentiments. Ireland is
the best lace for you, for example. To your safe
arrivalt re,andm panacea-comeback. '

Andho toned oil is glans, then flirted some of
the on Desmond, a rop touchi the latter‘s
face. time there was no mists e. The in-
sult was undeniable. The Husketeer sat down at
his own table with a triumphant smile. and a dead
silence supervenod. Every one was watching to
see how Gerald would take it. Jack Carroll a hard,

k-marked face was a study. He had not nt-

a word during the little pangs of corn -

manta. but sat with both hands on o more of

his sword, his chin on the former, ldo i from

one to the other, and twisting his features at? the
extraordinary

.andho

' The  Captain.

Gerald Desmond remained a moment in his place.
His heart gave a sudden leap at the insolent manner
of the. other, and his voice trembled as he rose and
tried to speak.

St. F oix did not answer. He merely leaned over to
fill his glass at his own table, with a sarcastic smile.
Then Gerald made a single step to the other‘s side,

came his strong right hand on the other's shoulder
wrth a clutch of iron!

“ Monsieur," he thundered, “ sorlom .’.’."" ‘

At the same moment he brought his left hand in a
back-handed blow full in the insolent face of his
enemy.

That done he stepped back, picked up his hat and
cloak, and stalked toward the door.

The action was so prompt and vigorous that the
Musketeer, who had come firegared for a duel, was
for a moment overcome. e lood poured from his
nose and he was compelled to stanch it with his
handkerchief, before he could rise to follow.

As for the rest of the room, it was all in a tumult
instantly. The companions of Foix leaped up, and
half drew their rapiers, but not so quickly but that
Carroll and Cavanagh were quickest. The red giant,
with a single stride, reached Granville. whom he
seized with his powerful gras , shouting:

“Not a step, monsieur, or y the toe—nails of St.
Patrick, I‘ll break every bone in your body! Your
friend deserved it!“

Cavanagh was equally prompt to seize the other by
the arms. saying, sternly:

“ Fair play, monsieur. You shall have all the
fighting you want, but in the right way."

l‘hen Scotch, Irish, and French officers and volun-
teers, crowded round, and a hubbub of voices was
heard. Desmond was sto mm on his way to the
door, and an animated iscussion ensued, which
ended in a few minutes b the appointment of a
meetin in the Pre aw: U m, or (.lerks' Meadow,
behind 'otre Dame, the dueling ground of Paris. -

St. Foix, who had succeeded in stanching the blood
from his nose, was much less insolent in his demean-
or now, but his face, pale as death, was set in an ex-
pression of fierce resolve. He made no objection to
the meeting; indeed, behaved with great courtesy to
the Irish gentlemen round him. T re fact was that
every one respected his daring in almost alone
into the midst of his enemy‘s strong old, and the
chivalrous generosity of the highborn Irish nobles
was unctii ous in its observanco of courtesy to him,
in s to of his unprovoked insult to Desrnon .

T e latter was still in a state of bewilderment as to
the cause of attack. The Musketeer had led him
out so pointed] ' that it was evident that e knew
him, and et raid could assign no cause for the
other’s be avior.

He was too true an Irishman, however, to refuse
to fight on that account. Like all his race, he would

ht for fun. if required. In a quarter of an hour
a ter the frrwas, he was on his way to the Clerks'
Meadow, with his two friends, while the three Mus-
kcteers sauntered carelessly after in the same di-
rection.

In half an hour two large remparties were on the
grounds, the news having sp with lightning speed
aInd secrecy, the 'only parties left in the dark being
t e poice.

Just as the clock of Notre Dame struck six and the
sun was setting, Gerald and his two frien s stood
opposite to the three Musketeers, sword in hand.

CHAPTER IV.

. ran Tamar: Dunn.

Acooanmo to the custom of the age, the princi-
pals did not fight alone. Each had his seconds, who
engaged alongside, and any one dispatching his an-
tagonist had a right to heignhis friends afterward.

There was but little t e wasted in ceremony.
Both parties were armed alike, both wore cuirasses,
and carried long three-cornered rapiers. Morel re-
moving their hats to bow formal y to each 0 her,
they instantly replaced them, and crossed swords
wi aciash. The twilight at that season of the
year aflorded ample light for an hour to come, and
the thrusts and parries were delivered with great
v or and recision for several moments. -

ra 0nd a good swordsman at any time,
found that in St. oix he had meta erous an-

nist. The Frenchman‘s rapier played around
his own blade in small glittering circles, with wonder-
ful ra idi , and each thrust gained on his own parry
by a ract on of a second, so that the point came
c oser and closer momentarily.

As both wore cuirasses, it was useless to thrust at
the body, and the combatants confined themselves
to the limbs. At last Gerald,felt a prick in his
shoulder. St. Foix‘s point had touch . Then the
Irishman executedatrick that took the other b -
surprise. With asudden whirl, he brought his le
foo foremost and the rapier, plowing up his shoul-
der, pierced the sleeve of is coat~ and ran out on the
other side. Freed; forward, so as to e age it still
more, Desmond seized the Musketeer w h his left
han drew back his sword, and stabbed the other
gill nhme right thigh, spitting him through and

'0“!

Then he sprung back, and 8t. Foix fell to'the

und with a cry of unconcealable , while the

cuiramier turned tosee how he fight went

with his companions. His shoulder smarted and

gained worse than if the wound had been deeper,
at he knew that he was not dangerously hurt.

He beheld Jack Carroll, evidently bearing down
his slight adversary, Granville. The antic volun-
teer was thrusti at the other, and el n mtme
Irish del ht, w ehis fie mmtac e brat aver
his teeth. The Mu steer was being drit a
ban with increasing rapidity, while Carroll com -

 

(y no means ual.

Presentl ranvilie, exgfled by the taunts of the
other. e a desperate m3, executed

trick that Gerald had just pe armed, and by taking
a wounded shoulder and torn coat,
stabbing the Irish giant. Rio thrust caug
'. ' a

k
hijflfiggont. The

 

Oav not
seem to notice any with him
a. 1'-

 to
days, Wish-o wifiifihfift‘rl‘tgam

"Monsieur," he said, addressing nimself to St. ,
Foix, “ you are too careless with your wine—do you ‘
earl" ‘

and for the. first time exhibited excitement. Down ,

 

merited him with sarcastic epithets at eve fresh ._
thrust. too (Luick and strong to be denied. e fight
was plainly

 

a
‘2

full on the face, for it was wildly given, and ran
him through the cheek, breaking a tooth in the par

ith a roar of rage, the cuirassier gered back
a moment, and then, foil-getting his scrence in his
fury, be rushed at the renchman, disch 'ng a
shower of blows from a weapon without an ge. as
if it had beena shillelah.

Under this novel assault to him—Granville re-_
treated in dismay. His hat was knocked off and his
head bruised in a few blows, and Carroll,
him by main force, disdainful of his swo , wo
have strangled him a moment later.

He was interrupted by a fresh antagonist.

Cavanagh had been the most unlucky of the
Irish party. A small man at best, he was but a
youn swordsman, and his an onist was a man.
ter 0 the weapon. Defending imself as well as
he could, he was forced to retreat as fast as Can
roll's opponent. Just as Granville struck- at Car-
roll‘s face, Cava h‘s foot slipped, and his antago-
nist spitted him through the sword arm with a grim
in h of triumph.

len, without wasting a moment, the Musketeer
rushed to the help of Granville, and reached the
scene in time to give the Irish ant a prod in the
rear that caused him to fiing ranville down with
a howl, while he turned like a lion on his treacher-
ous foe.

But this was the moment for Desmond to act, and
he did act, with a promptitude that restored the con-
test immediately.

Seei that the Frenchman was unwounded, and
eviden y a su u-ior swordsm n. he flew to Carroll‘s
hel , just as t re Irish giant . ‘eived a third wound
in t e sword arm.

Before the Frenchman could interpose his rapier,
Gerald’s point caught him in the arm-holeof the
cuirass and the Irishman buried his sword in the
bod v of the Musketeer.

e duel was over, and the Irish gartyhad tri-
umphed, for Granville surrendered to is two foes.

CHAPTER V
'10 ms unr’s aowaa.

Lars that evening, two cavaliers, wrap in large
cloaks, were passing through the dimly- ted and
narrow streets of the Faubourg St. Honors, in Paris,
when a youn lad in the dress of a page, no-
costed the s orter of the two, in a ow voice, say-

‘Monaieur, may I speak with you a moment?"

“ With me? an why with me?“ demanded Gerald
Desmond, for it was he, in some surprise.

“ You are the cavalier that was at the hunt in the
forest,” said the boy, in a positive tone; “ for I saw
you there."

Jack Carroll gave a short lau h, checked by a
grunt, for his face was tied up, an pained severe] .

‘j  along with ye, Desmond," he mumbled. “ ll
bad it‘s the purty cr’ature that ye‘re dr’amin’ about,
sint for e. Ye re in luck, at last."

Geral  his arm from thao of his com-
panion wit a strange tremor of excitement. Th.
words of t e boy had suggested the same train of
tho ht to himself.

“ es, I am that cavalier," he said, eagerly. “ What
would on?“

“ Wi monsieur come with me, and submit to be
blindfolded 2" asked the boy, in a whisper.

The volunteer drew back.

“ Biindfoided—for what reason?"

“ I can not tell, monsieur," said the
tiall , “but the lady ve me strict orders."

' “ he lady! What y?“ asked Gerald, eagerly.

"The lady whom monsieur saved," whis red the
boy. “ You must not say another word, at cone,
or stay. Which is it?“

It is needless to speculate on Gerald‘s answer.
Young, ardent, and full of Irish impetuosity, he
hesitated no longer. The beautiful lady had sent for

him and it was eno h. \
urrledly, to his companion,

 

boy, confiden—

 he said
“ you‘ll excuse me or leaving you, will you not!"

“And I will that," said Carroll, heartily. "
luck with e!"

“Nowt en boy,"said Gerald to theyoung me.
sengr l on." r

“ ill monsieur, thought on this ban 7" said
theboy,produci a b k bandage and oringit
to the youfisol r. “I must trust to monsieur‘s
honor to b d himself completely.“

Gerald tied on the bandage wi out a word, and
the appeal to his honor compelled to do it more
eflect than he ht have otherwise done.

Chrroii, with a sho “good- ht," turned aw
albistling aaolngigcobite altr, a2“ tflokbtohe fond“

ebanacorregimenwee,eep
hold of Gerald’s hand, turned a corner arid down a
side street, whence mmmceeded to thread a mane
of nan-ow lanes and ya, Desmond following his

H Irish comrade had no sooner lost ht of
them than be halted, listelng ,to their foo tepa
Then, with a muttered wo he at down and
unbuckled the jingling spurs 0 were, which hem -
ed his coming a our: way ahead put them in
pocket, threw his cloak Over his left arm, so as to
actasashield. andtofreehis motionsfro incum-
brancepand finally turned and deliberat'f'lfiqnn to
dog his comrade and his young do. clung of
Ge urswasdistinctlyau blealtreetahcad.
and by keeping in the muddy gutter, was
able to fggow without

heard or seen. .
“Byt b bell of Athlonei" muttered thegioant,
as he stole , “it‘s in ty foine intirely be
rustin‘theladies;butJac ll ’t e yto
.. “31”th he“ were I
’3 may ‘ . t‘s
hummus should have kicked m

uare

finndy this afternoon with a man the never saw be-

fore. Ye may give yer honor,  but I haven‘t

given mine not to follow ye, and by the cross of St.
atricki I'll know where he take ye."

Thus muttering to the‘ cairn-tier stole
alo with a caution and Iti cos of which no one
wou have deemed uge frame capable. He
was wounded in three places, it is true, but none of

g,

  

 

 

 

' Etioles start

, View.

 
 

4

 

 

The Irish Captain.

'.

 

They were no longer to be seen. There was but a
single lamp in the street, a dim, smoky thing, hang-
ing on a rope over the middle of the kennel, for Paris
in those da swas innocent of as. He could bear
the clash o Gerald‘s s are an the pattering foot-
1 steps of the lad in anot er lane, and he stole on, with
immense strides, step in as softlyas possible in the
mud. When he rose e the next corner be dis-
tinguished the forms of his friend and the boy, just
‘vanishing round a third comer. Encouraged in his
‘object, he roceeded with increased rapidity, and
‘succeeded n kee ing them in sight during a long
and apparently aimless, ramble amid the crooker
streets. First they left the aristocratic Faubourg
gt. Honors and ilungcd into the squalid slums of the

aubourg St. ntoine, the Five Points of Paris.
Threading street after street, in a lo circuit, they
finally emerged by the banks of thengeine, only to
turn ain, and enter the precincts of the most aris-
tocratic quarter of all, the Faubourg St. Germain.

, “ Aha! muttered Carroll, “ sure we’re comin‘
there at last. Ye‘re a sharp boy, but Jack Carroll’s
behind ye." .

As the Irishman had suspected from the first, the
boy began to walk slower when he got into this quar-
ter. It was evident he was nearing his destination.
Once he stopped and looked round, but Carroll was
prepared for the maneuver. He had been slinkin
along close to the houses, and when the boy turnet ,
he stopped and stood like a statue, his form blend-
iniwith asculptured urn in front of a gateway.

t last the page and his conductor aused in front
of a large house, dark and gloomy n ap arance,
.and where the onl light came from the litt e window
of the porter‘s l e, beside the carriage archway.

Carroll shrunk c ose to a house, and watched them.
They did not go to the led e. The age stopped at a
little alle way beside the ouse, d ved down it with
Desmon and vanished.

When the cuirassier arrived at the same alley, be
perceived a small gateway in a hi h, brick garden-
,wall, and the door was closed, the a ey empty.

“B ' the Hokey! but I’ve (got ye at last, e slip-
ery little divill’ muttered arroll as he w thdrew
nto the street to examine the outside of the house.

“ Now who may, all this belong to?"

He scanned t e outside to discover some traces of
owinershiy. but the night was too dark to distin ish
the coat-of-arms over the garrlage-wa , an the
cuirassier was too cautious t enter at he porter's

e to inquire.

ere was only one thing to be done, if he wished
to trace his friend, which was to remain where he
was till the other came out, and this he resolved to
do. Retiring to the Opposite side of the street, Car-
roll took his post in the gloomy archwa of a corre-
sponding alley, wrappet himself in h s cloak, and
leanelci‘l against the‘ wall, prepared for a patient
'watc .

Minute after minute flew b , and all was perfectly
still. It was long past the time for balls and routs
for in those days earlier hours were kept, on accoun

.3f the want of the lights with which we now turn
ight into day. The lamp in the orter’s lodge was
now extinguished, and the great ouse was as dark

as a tomb. ,

Presently the deep boom of the clock of Notre
Dame tolled slowl out on the air.

There were but hree strokes.

Then clock after clock followed, all over the city,
and in a few minutes all was still again.

Carroll folded his arms and waited patiently.
Presentlyhe thought that he heard the distant sound
of footsteps in a neighboring street. He was not
mistaken. Tramp, tramp, gclash, clash—it became
plain that two gentlemen, with spurs and swords,
were coming.

The cuirassier arranged his cloak so as to leave his
sword-hilt read to his hand, and maintained his
post. He hear the sound of deep voices, in the low
grumbling tones of men, in confidential conversation,
and was not surprised, when they turned up the
street in which he stood and came toward him. He
had felt all along that something mysterious was
going to liap en. ' .

Present y t e two men‘passed 1n front of him, but,
contrary to what he ha. expected, both were the
uniforms of the carabincers of the king‘s household.

Both halted in front of the very house he was
watching; aan one of them, a slight, youthful flgurc,
said in a low tone:

“ I’mdiezl, Etioles, the fellow must be a fool after
:all. You wouldn’t catch me trusting myself blind-
fold to a boy."' .

“ These Irish will do anything," said the second, a
"tall cavalier, whose face was hidden from Carroll’s

. “They will run into any danger after a pretty
face.”

“ One thing, we have the do now,” said the slight-
cr one, savagely. “By the b ue heaven, Etioles, it
was well thought of, to send the boy after him. It
will surprise madame, and give us both a good excuse
to kill him.”

“ I wonder has he afrived yet?” muttered the one
called Etioles. “If I thought he were, now would
be the time to go on.” »

“Best not,” said the other, with a sneering laugh.
“It is never fair to enter a lady’s house without

‘ving her notice. He is in by this time, for Jacques

fsla faithful boy. When he comes out, we can finish
him."

“Then by the powers, ye’ll have to dale with Jack
Carroll, too,” muttered the cuirassier, as he eyed
t e 'unconscious plotters. ‘“ I was afraid of this, ye
dirty thaves.” '

“ some one Comes,” suddenly whispered
g to one side. “ There he comes,
be end a dou "

‘arroll looked across the street. The light of a
lantern‘was seen moving behind the brick wall, and

a key was rattling at the little dOor. . I

The'.‘ two Musketeers, with drawn swords, stOOd

“waiting on either side of thealley-way. .

’

 

» CHAPTER VI.
- I m SURPRISE-PARTY. ,
Wm d Desmond Surrendered himself to

o' ' de he had no fear of the result ofhis
“diam. Evnir. his encounter in the forest,

so, ehiie

"'th never before been hi low.

 ’ l‘ ‘of, e ' utlful‘face of the lad he
.  his mental visi‘On. Ydiing
.  I a!

 

l y
.- l.

and the Passion that he now entertained was cor-
respond ngl violent, strong enough to overcome
scruples an fears alike.

He accompanied his little conductor in silence
along their tortuous route. Once, when he did ad-
dress him a uestion, the boy made no answer but a
whispered “ lush !” and after that, Gerald spoke no
more. His word pledged to retain the bandage
nothing would have induced him to remove it, an
be soon lost all idea of locality in the rapid and
ca ricious turns of his guide.

ien the ’turned into the dark alley-way, and
stopped at t e garden door, he asked his conduct-0r:

“ Are we there yet i"

“ Almost," said the lad in a whisper. “You must
not speak now. I am going to take you lip-stairs,
and leave you alone in a room. When you heara
door shut, you may remove the bandage. Do you
give your word?”

“Ido,” replied Gerald, unhesitatingly. Then he
heard a ke ' grate in the lock, and he stepped over
the thresho d of a door, on soft grass.

His companion locked the deor behind them, and
then, taking his band, led him on, till they ascended
a flight of stone steps. In a few moments later, a
door softly 0 (mod, and herald felt the warm air of
a house on b s face.

“Step softly," whispered the lad.
clatter too loud.”

Gerald proceeded with due caution down a stone
passage, and up some softly—carpeted stairs, when

e came into another )assage that seemed to be very
thick] covered, for llS foot sunk noiselesst into
somet ling soft, and even his spurs made the faint‘
est of jin les.

At last is guide opened a door, and he was sensi-
ble, through the bandage, of a flood of light, in con-
trast with the dense darkness he had before felt.

“ When you hear a door close,“ whispered the lad,
“unbandage your eyes. Go forward as far as you
can, and good fortune attend you.“

A moment later there was a subdued noise. as of
the shutting of adoor, and Gerald Desmond took
off the bandage, to find himself alone in a small ante-
room, sum tuously furnished in white and gold, in
the gaudy ashion of Louis XV. and his times.

It was several moments before the young soldier’s
eyes grew accustomed to the light, of which there
was a rfect glare in the room, from a central
chandel er. Then he remembered his guide’s advice,
and marched straight forward.

Before him was a closed door. The lock yielded to
his hand, and he beheld a second room, larger t 1an
the first furnished in pink and gold, and equally
em ty 0 human presence.

ondering, but resolved to ex lore to the last, the
Irish volunteer passed boldly t rou h the second
room. He saw a door ajar before h m, and heard
the sound of voices behind it. He stop d to listen.
Both were female voices, and one—he lad heard it
but 0 cc, but he remembered every tone—was the
same hat had once murmured, “ (Pest H, mm mm.”
He recognized every note.

It can not be denied that Gerald Desmond experi-
enced a serious feelin of embarrassment as be ad-
vanced to this door, w ich se rated him from the
lady of his adoration. Had s 1c been alone, it might
have been different, but the presence of a compan-
ion altered the case. 0 was this companion. and
what were two ladies doing sitting up at three in the
morning?

Revolving these uestions in his mind. he stepped
up to the door an threw it 0 en, standing] in the
doorway. ,There he stood asi rooted to t 0 spot,
dumb with surprise.

He beheld before him the most charming 0f bou-
doirs,hun and furnished in )ale-blue silk and silver
lace. In t e midst was a litt e round table and chairs
covered with ivory, the table bearing a coffee-service
of Ipeculiarl delicate and beautiful porcelain.

is one si e of the apartment was a bright wood-
flre in an open chimney, and seated before it, in an
easy~chair, of which t 0 wood was ivory, the cush-
ions blue silk, was Gcrald’s enigmatical old friend of
the hunt, who had warned him against danger.

Relieved of his long roqueiaure, this strange old
gentleman ap )cared in a suit of pearl-colored satin,
with white-sll stockings, and his shriveled yellow
face looked kecner than ever, under the snowy lie-
wig. He was looking at the blaze, and leisurely sip-
ping a cup of cofl'ee.

At the table, presiding over the coffee-service, was
a young lady, very small, very pretty, with spark-
lin black eyes and black eyebrows, while her full
re lips pouted bewitchingly over snow teeth. She
wore a magnificent evening-dress of w lite and am—
ber satin, “hich suited her dark Italian face to a
charm and her hair was thickly powdered.

But erald‘s eyes left all the rest, to gaze on the
figure of the lady he had saved.

l‘here she was, sure enough, as lover as ever, her,
fair hair thrown back from her forehead, With an
imperial, coronet-like wave, crowned with diamonds.
She lay back in a large couch, with whose blue and
silver trimmings her dress, of blue satin and white
lace, harmonized perfectly. .

As she lay indolently against the cushions, near
the old gentleman, her face was turned toward the
door, as were none of the others, and she was the
first to perceive Gerald.

The up arition of a tall dragoon, with breast-
plate an sword, his black hair falling over his
shoulders in the wild style of the Irish Bri adcuwho
disdained wder, his heavy horseman’s c oak trail-
ink]:V behin him, was enough to su rise anv one.

he lady started, uttered a slig t shriek, and re-
mained s arlng at the door, as if terrified. The
young brunette looked round in surprise, then in her
turn uttered a scream ‘of terror, and sprung to the
sige of the blonde ladg,‘ still screaming and hiding
h r eyes in the other‘s ress.

The old gentleman turned his head to the door,
and. remained staringas if: spellbound a moment.
Then he started up, with the alacrit of a young
man, put down his cup on the table w th a delibera-
tion that showed the possession of firm nerves, and
advanced on the young Soldier. ‘ I

“ What do you here, monsieur‘?" he asked, sharp-
ly. t:‘Who are you, how did you get in, what do you
wan ?' a ‘ »
> Gerald was for a moment dumb n .  -
price of every one in tharoo , , fig'd
waged. that for the first i to 
alias atoometrlckhadbeo, layedon . 

, ‘ , l. ‘ - '

3, .
l - .L  1’."".-.‘ WIN"; “
., r   t m.:4..~.r.f.<~  r

“ Your spurs

 

   

1",. i

—~~ 1 i '

He was too bold and straightforward, however, to
hesitate now.

Advancing two steps into the room, and add (east
ing the fair  directly, be said, in a distinct tone:

Madam (11 you send your page to find me and
bring me hither?"

“ ood Heavens, no!” ejaculated theilady, with
ev‘ersy;3 appearance of terror.

“ n for you!” cried the old gentleman, angrily,

a comrynon soldier, a dragoonl Are you mad? Who
are on ” '

“ am sorry on have fo otten me so soon," said
Geraldmsomew at sadly, as 6 turned his face to the
door. I can only say that I was brou ht hither
blindfold bya page, w o knew me as e person
who saved this lady‘s life a week ago. If I was
brought here to make sport of, take your fill, ma-
dam. “An Irish gentleman never resents a lady's ill-
usage.

D_ur1ng this speech the old gentleman had been lis-
temn attentivel , and scanning Gerald‘s face keen-
ly. hen he ha finished, he said:

“Do you .mean that madam's page brought you
here, monsleur?"

“ 1 do,“ said Gerald, coldly.

“Then here is some dark work,“ sudden! ex-
claimed the lady herself, who had been liste ng to
the conversation, and growin calmer.

“ And if I mistake not, In me la baronne, this is
the same gallant youth who saved you from the
stag’s horns the ot er day,” said the gentleman.

In a moment the lady had flown toward Gerald.

“It is thou indeed,” she cried; “and in danger

 

  

. . 3 , ,
Lunch or -'

again for me."

 

CHAPTER VII.
A BEAUTIFUL omnn

Faox that moment the situation was changed.
The blonde lad came close to Gerald with strange
iutentness, an placing both hands upon his shoul-
ders, looked earnestly into his face.

The volunteer blushed like a girl under the
scrutiny, while the lad seemed entirely uncon-
scious of any im roprle y. She had the air of one
used to comman every one round her, and earnest
as was her gaze, there was none of that tremulous
e erness t at accompanies love.

t last she withdrew, with a long sigh, sayin :

“It is thou, indeed, poor boy, and I shall know
thee now."

Gerald was intoxicated. as with some sweet and
subtle perfume, b eve word and action of this
strange y fascth n being. The very form of ad-
dress she used to h m—the second rson singular
—has in French a peculiarly swee and caressing
ineaning, used in family intercourse and between
overs.

Then the lady addressed him with the same sweet
freedom saying: ,

“What is thy name, my friend?"

“ Gerald Desmond,‘ re lied the soldier.

“And thy re ent, w at is it?” she pursued.

“ Clare’s Iris cuirassiers," he answered, proudly,
for his corps was famous in France.

“ Thy rank?" .

“Simple soldier and volunteer.”

The lady bummed a little tune. as if considering,
Then she abruptly asked:

“ Wouldst thou be an officer?"

Gerald started.

r “ Madame—I—I—of course *every soldier is ambi-
lous." v

“ Good," she said, nodding her head, with a
strange, absent look, as if she was thinking of some.
thing else. “You shall be one to-night. Shall be
not, Therese?"

As she spoke she turned to the younger lady, who
sat on the couch, a little way otf, looking on at this
strange scene in perfect stillness, Without any ex.
presslon of wonder. With the tact of hi h-breeding
—-for it was evident that all those peop e were of
high rank—both she and the old gentleman had re-
sumed their usual quiet demeanor, as if nothing had
occurred to disturb them.

Now Mademoiselle Therese, as she was addressed
raised her great dark eyes to those of Gerald, and
instantly dropped them, with a vivid blush, as she
said in a low tone:

“ am sure monsieur deserves it, Antoinette, for
his gallantry in rescuing you the other day.”

The lady who was called Antoinette went ra idly
to a little bureau, of which the front, like all3 the
furniture in that room, was thickly crusted with
ivory, and opened a drawer.

She drew out therefrom a parchment covered with
writing, and bearing a hl e green seal, seized a n
which in on the top of e bureau, and turned)e to
Desgmii' ' h id i h

“pe yourname‘sesa ,nterai lm -»
ous manner in which she did eve thing.p d, pefl

Gerald obeyed, and she wrote {he name in a blank
space on the parchment in‘two places, then handed
it |toTiliim wigh the ink still wet, saying:

‘ rere, t y commiss on as ea tain in th -
bineers. It is thine. Take care 0% it.” 8 can

Then, while Gerald gazed with stupefled amaze-
ment at the parchment, with the si n manual “of
LOUlS XV. at t re foot as plain as con] be, the lady
turned to the old gentleman, who was still sitting by
the fire and said: 1
‘ ‘f Will you see to the orders being issued, Arouet,

that our captain may have no trouble?” ‘

“Certainly, madame " he re lied, brisk rising.
“ Young man, you are lucky to ave found adame
Antoinette to-night, I can tell you."

Gerald could only bow, and stammer out his grati-
tude and surprise in a few bungling words, when
Aronet continued: 

“And we do not yet know, monsieur to ,what com«
bination of circumstances we owe this unexpected
visit of yours. Madame Antoinette has been kind
enough to overlook the accident, but at least she

(

woul like to',know how you came to be at that door,
without notice or warning. Do you know where you
are?”

“Frankly, no,” said Gerald.

The lbdies exchanged quick glances. -

“ Do you mean to saw began Madame Antoinett
, shlfrply, ‘gthat you do not know where you are, an?
«w 0 am ’ ‘ : .
“I do. not," said the volunteer, shnply. Then 1;.

 Rod into a histo
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ness. When he had finished, Madame Anto ette
turned to Monsieur Arouet, and said in a low ne:
“It is he, without doubt. I recognize his work."
Arouet merely shrugged his shoulders. _
“Ifa man were to tempt me like that," he said
“I would let him have the benefit of the crime, if
were a lady, which I am not." '
And he twisted his keen old face in a sarcastic

grin.

Madame Antoinette turned on him with her quick,
inperious manner.

‘ And I, on the contrary, shall do no such thing.
Do you not see that it is a plot against this youth‘s
life because—"

flere she leaned over and whispered in the ot‘her‘s
ear

Monsieur Arouet’s face underwent a change as he
ed

a .
“Paer ."‘ he exclaimed. “that is sufficiently
likely. But I. too, have something to say in that
uarter. Monsieur may play his cards as well as he
es; this young man came in by chance, and he
shall not be cheated of the stakes.‘
“So I say," repeated Madame Antoinette, firmly.
“ Now, man (uni, what shall we do?"
“ Leave it to me " said Arouet.
Thgln he turned to the Irish volunteer, saying,
‘av :
8‘“ Mo’nsieur, you are to understand that you .have
had a narrow escape to—night, and that you have
fallen on your feet with wonderful luck. The boy
who inveig ed you hither is not a servant of Madame
Antoinette, but of—well—of some one else, who is

our deadly enemy. It is probable that you have
been followed hither, and may be waylaid as you go
out. Are you armed?"

“I am," said Gerald, shortly. He felt like a man
falling from aoheighhpsrecipice, quite disillusionized.

Arouet noti blank look, and added, with
rare tact:

“ yyou friend, consider that if an enem al-
lured you h ther, you have found friends in t
people, who ma do you good service. Madame
Antoinette has p you on the first step of the
ladder tonight. Try to climb so high that you will
do credit to your protectress. I will see you out my-
self at the rivate door. Draw your sword and pre-

to cu your way out. You are a soldier and
{led to these thi But, live or die, remember
list your honor is p edged never to betray Madame
Antomette."

The young soldier, for all answer, sunk at the
feet of the beautiful lady, who extended her hand
to him with a sweet smile. He covered it with
kisses, then rising, bowed low to Mademoiselle
Therese, and followed Monseiur Arouet from the

room.

He had hardly left it, when Therese sprun for-
ward and spoke rapidly and impetuously to ame
Antoinette.

.“ Antoinette, he is going to be murdered. Can we
not save him?"

“ He is a soldier ma chem," said the lady, quietly,
“ and must take his chances.“

“ Not of assassination," cried the young girl, ener-

tically. “ It must not, it shall not be, my sister.
fie must be saved!”

“ But how, how?" asked the lady, irgfiatiently.
“ If his own skill is insufficient to defend m, I have
done all I can to help him."

“Then I will save him," cried Therese, her eyes

klingas she hastil caught 11 a hooded cloak
a white satin lined wi h swan‘s own, and threw it
Over her shoulders. “ They shall think is my
bver, and I will defy them to harm him."

“ Therese, on are mad," cried Antoinette, has-
tily. “ Cons der, yopr name, your reputation—"

‘ Reputation!“ echoed Therese,scornfully. “ What
Is that at this court?“

Before Madame Antoinette could stop her she
had flown across the two outer rooms, down the
corridor and stairs, and ran swiftly down the stone
passage below into the little square garden where
she found Arouet in the very act of unlocking the
garden gate to ve egress to Desmond.

“Stop stop,‘ she cried, in agitated accents. At
the we she was obeyed.

Then she swept up like a whirlwind to Arouet,
snatched the candle from his hand, and opened the
tear herself. I

“ Retire, Monsieur Arouet,“ she said, waving her
hand with a grand, im ~rial manner; “twice has
this ntleman expo his life for our house. It
it fit ing that one of us should share his perils now."

Before the astonished Arouet could utter a word
she had flung 0 en the door, and, signing to Des-
mond to follow, ed the way out of the alley, candle
in hand, with a firm step.

Gerald was unconscious of the danger that im-
pentled, but he felt that it was of some nature that
rendered this act imprudent. Fir-ml but respect-
fully he seized the voung lady and
then placing himself More her, drew his sword.

“ Pardon, Mademoiselle Therese,“ he said; “it is
a man‘s place to meet perils first. You must retire,
or at least onl follow. ‘

“I will do t e last," she sai in a clear, distinct
tone, au'lible in the street; “ prosper you, mon-
sieur. Strike and are not."

Without a word, rald wrapped his cloak round
his left arm for a shield and marched out, the girl
following, holding the light.

A moment later, two masked men rushed at- him
with drawn swords.

CHAPTER VIII.
as nusrnns's 30:10:.

Man the volunteer been taken by surprise, his
assassins would in all probability have succeeded in
their efforts. As it was, expectingI an httac? he
was repared for it. He received t e thrust o the
left-gand man in the thick folds of his cloak, par-ried
the other with his rapier, and leaped into the street,
whirli round so as to wrench one weapon almost
from adversary‘s , and bring them both a
theme side of him. It was then the work 0 a
moment to stab the entangled assauin on his left in
mm thrice, with a quick, nervous motion.

He might not have fared so well at this, but for
Inf ' help. At the instant he leaped into the
wrest, ack (knoll strode forth with drawn sword
wllhamrimrslflshcuuaandfellonhis Patch!!!
wait. thrudng with a vkos' that out «her

_ ... .m,_ __..V I.

rew her back;.

 

I

The Irish Captain.

 

 

reeling back, and retreating, in the vain endeavor to
escape the enraged Irish trooper.

A moment later, the Frenchman tripped on the
sli pery stones and came on his back, while Car-
ro , setting his foot on his chest, his sword-point to
the other's throat, rowled out:

“ Surrender, ye nch thief, or b the big bell of
Athlone, I’ll spit ye like a lark, ye rty coward, so
ye are i“

The assassins were totallv discomfited, for Ger-
ald’s enemy had fallen mortally wounded when
Mademoiselle Theresa, who had watched the whole
st gle, suddenly emerged from the dark alleyway,
hold n the li ht, which cast an aureole around her
beauti ul h , and running to Carroll cried:

“ Monsieur, monsieur, for my sake spare him! He
is my brother."

The Irishman drew back with amazement and
admiration on his countenance.

“ Holy Moses, if it isn’t an angel!“

Then, as he scanned the pleadin , beautiful face
and costly dress, he suddenly drew luck with great
res .ct.

‘ If you wish it, mademoiselle, he is safe; but he
must unmask."

Here Gerald. who had disengaged himself from his
dying an onist, came up, and the young lady

 

turned to h m imploringl :
merciful. You have the

“ Monsieur Desmond,
secrets of a family in ourhands byan unhapp
accident. Remember, t e honor of Antoinette is
involved in this matter. Ask no questions, but go,
for our sakes.“

Gerald looked hesitatingly at the assassin. He lay
sullerly in the place where he had fallen, hise es
flaring thro h the holes in the mask, without ut r-
11;; a word. . t was very hard to let him go without

n able to recognize so deadly and treacherous a
toe ut the Irish volunteer was the send of honor-

“ n that case; mademoiselle " he said gravely,
“ we will take our departure— For this cavalier, he
owes his life solely to your intercession."

He beat on one knee at the feet of Therese, and
kissed her hand. '

" Come, Jack," he said. '

Carroll removed his hat, and awe t the ground
with a low bow before the beautiful rl.

“ Mademoiselle,“ he said, “if ye ave any influ-
ence with this gentleman, who {you isrysour brother,

rsuade him to keefi clear 0 the I h dragoons,
or by the head of t e Shari Van Vogt, it won‘t be
healthy for him to let the boys see him; and ye may
tell him that I‘ve heard his voice, and his name, too
often not to know both again."

Then be replaced his hat and stalked off, accom-
panied by his friend, while Therese was left alone
with the fallen cavalier.

The latter waited till the d oons were out of
sight before he rose, and out 0 hearing before he
s ioke. Then he turned savagely to the girl, who

od by the arch of the alley-way, listening to the
receding ste . »

“So, you 001 of a girl, it is you that hires Irish
rufflans to dishonor our house, and stab your brother
in the back i"

She turned on him, with a singular expression of
measureless scorn. ,

“ Who are you that speak, monsieurf The masked ;
murderer or the comth husband?"

Then, without another word, she turned
away, and swept up the alley to the house.
passed the other man, fallen, and now almost dead,
she gave a visible shudder of horror; but, as if she
had nerved herself to the task she passed on into
the open court, leaving the little garden gate wide

open.
The masked cavalier shook his fist at the retreat-
gig figfure with stealthy ferocity, then went to the
e p 0

his dyin comrade.

“ Are you adfiy hurt?" he asked, in a cold, heart-
less tone. . '

The dying man trietlto spedt, thrice, but in vain.
E'I‘he {thwordl hgdgierced the xindpipe, seller-mtg file
ugu r ve n passage,” amoment ter e
still and dead. y

“Curse on your clumsy sword!" muttered the
other assassin. “ Hadg’ou done our duty, we might
have killed the houn . As it 8, there is only one
thing left—to hush up the scandal!"

As he spoke, he dragged the bod up the alley into
the mysterious house. A little ter, the garden
gate was closed and all still.

CHAPTER IX.
A svnnss mssroaiurros.

Tan trumpet sounded “ To horse" outside the bar-
racks of Clare‘s dragoons, and the men, in full uni-
form, were leading out their horses from the stables
to the rade- und.

Geralda and is friend Carroll were in the same
squadron, and in common with the other ntlemen
volunteers, occupied the right of the line. e squad-
rons were already counted off in threes and latoons,
the trumpets bra ed out the “assembly” and the
great regiment o puirassiers formed in line with a
ponderous tramping of horse-hoofs, while the stand-

s tossed eyly in the wind above the plumed hats
of the naval ers.

Now a deep silence reigns along the line, as the
regiments of carabineers. the blac white and 
Musketeers and the ho ers, take 0 r

laces on the right of the Irish horsemen, for the

y is arr-and field-day, and the Irish are on the left
of the 's Household, to be reviewed in the Elysi-
an Fields fore starting for the frontier.

Then follows the thunder of cannon as the batteries

out the royal salute, and a cloud of dust comes

oward the center of the line, in the midst of which

shine the breastplates and swords of the Body
, around three carriages, coming at a gallop.

Now the word rings along the line, up go he
swords to a present, and Gerald sees the ca 8
flash by with twinkling wheels in the dust. Amid all
the confusion, he catches sight of the beautiful faces
of two ladies in the first carriage and recognizes
them instantly as his two friends. Then. with a clat-
ter and a cloud, the are whirled by, and he remains
sitting on his horse a a state of semi-etupefaction.

“ Who can these ladi be?“ he thinks.

There is at long to nsider. ’ dash

‘1

 

proudly
As sh

 

down the no to the left, come whirling a ong the
rear and turn to the first on; hen the

, re , ir
troops wheel by  and

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. I

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| lieve," he said, coldly.
‘ you, monsieur, that our officers will not be very cor-

Ihishand

 

riding away at a rapid trot, amid the choking hosts

ng in review. As he nears the revie point,
eyes rly turn to the first ca . ere is
no one in it now but the well-known gure of the

king, sitting with a sim
watch his troo fess. he ladies are gone!

With a blan eeling of disappointment i’he drar
goon passes by, and in due course regains his place,
when the review is over.

And then, just as he is expectin the order to tala.
up the homeward march, an o cer, followed by
a numerous suit, rides out into the open space in

ring. self-satisfied air, to

‘ front of the king, and againa dead silence reign

along the line.

The ofiicer is a man of huge and powerful frame,
dressed in glitterinfilarmor in the st le of abygone
age. He is somew t corpulent an the bladr, full-
bottomed wig he wears can not is age. On
his cuirass glitter a perfect galaxy of stars and

e wears the crimson scarf of a man
ce.
C “ who is that?" whispered Gerald to his ndghbor,

arro .

“Sure and it‘s ould Saxe himself, had luck to him
for a plaguey ould martineti" grumbled the Irish
crurassier.

mTheln the nearest ofilcer turned his head, and said,
s rn .

“ S ence in the ranks, there!“

The marshal rode u to the colonel of Gerald‘s
regiment, and saida ew words to him, deliverirg
him a paper, then rode ,off toward th shines
Gerald 9 heart beat fast as Lord Clare came toward
the volunteers, and audibl called for:

“Gerald Desmond, gen eman volunteer." _

Desmond rode out and saluted.

“Mr, Desmond," said his lordshl , kindly “you
are relieved from dut in my ment. ere h
Bour discharge. With t is an order to report to the

uke de Richelieu. He commands the carabineers."

Gerald bowed to his horse's mane as he took the

pers. Hitherto he had hardly dared to hope that

‘1 commission, given him in such a strange way
could be real. Now he began to believe in his good

ortune.

He turned his horse with inli promptness, and
rode off to the next regiment. arshal Saxe, with
his brilliant suite, was just leaving its commander.
Gerald trotted up, and saluted, in silence, a middle-
aged man, with a handsome, dissipated face, who
wore the uniform of colonel of the carbineers, be-
sides the littering star of a lieutenant-general.

It was e duke of Richelieu, grand nephew of the
great cardin beari somewhat of his ances-
tor’s intellect n his keen ace.

Richelieu looked at the young man with a glance
in which even his practiced muscles could not no
press an expression of surprise.

“You are Captain Desmond just alssigned, I be-
“I wi not disguise from

dial with you at first. You are noble, I presume."
“ ‘y‘family are earls," said Gerald, proudly. “I
myse am t e last of in line, and the rightful ear)
of Athlone, though an ex e."
“It is understood," said Richelieu, airily waving
. “ Of course his majesty would not have
commissioned you if ou had not been noble. Well,
sir, you are allowed t ree days for your outfit, when
you will report to me for duty. Meanwhile, you are

e ‘ to appl to the quartermaster-general for quaners,

presen this order.“

He ban ed the new captain a paper, and suffi-
ciently displayed by his manner that the inte ew
was over. ‘

Gerald bowed low and retired, feeling strangely
solitary and forlorn. His promotion had come, and
with it he was separated, as by a gulf. from his for-
mer companions, while in his new regiment he was
all alone, not, as yet knowing a sin is person. Then,
too, his outfit puzz ed him not a ttle. He was al-
most penniless, and an exile. At home, his estate
had been confiscated in the time of his grandfatha,
and the last earl of Athlone had dropped histitle
when he was driven to serve as a private soldier.

A glance at the lendid uniforms of the cal-abi-
neers had satisfied e young tain that a heavy
sum would be needed for his out t, of which he had
nothing, save horse arms.

Full of despondency, te of his romotion, Ger-
ald rode slow] 0! to t e address ndorsed on the
paper handed him by Richelieu. As he went, the

t line of review broke up, and the troo 3 took
heir way home. With a strange, sad feeling of
loneliness, Desmond watched his old regiment Ile
off toward the stables, and found himself almost
alone on the parade. ' ,

The court carrl had driven 03, and Marshal
Saxe, with his b t staff. was leaving the place.
The oung soldier gslloped after him and soon
foun the quartermaster-genersl, to whom he de-

livered his order.

This official, a rfect courtier, was all smiles And
afi‘ability. At e same time like Richelieu, be
scanned the new-comer with his curiosity, and
as he gave him a billet to a certain quarterof the
palace, he said, with a significant grin:

“ Monsieur le ca itaine is a very py man. I nope
that he will not 0 t that I have friended him,
It is not every one w 0 has had the luck of monsters!
{ehgapit’aine He will find the quarters comfortable,

Gerald thanked him and retired, more than ever
at the mystery that surrounded him. He

went to his new quar1ers,and found to his surprise
that they were on the gonad floor of - the 'I‘uileries

itself,twolargeandlo yrooms, withall

the heavy magnificence of the .
But hewaainasgreat‘a quan aseverasto

meansofliving Hehadaho whchhehadjust

tied to a tree, and here. it was, in the afternoon,
and he had neither food, forage nor money, save a
few francs. What was to be done?

Completely at a loss, he stood in the doorway of
his new apartments, looking gloomilv on. on the
Tuileries gardens, and feelingI at moment as if
hewould rather beback int e ranksagain,w
hehad no cares,and where hispaywassuihciait
“A”; 'stood th he spied ell

s e us, soon aw wn
approaching him. mounted on-a sober , amt:

lowedbythreeserva‘ntswithledhosns. 
“ Monsieur Arouet," he ate W. I
trio genflsmaa _ '

thateeeea

O

a

 

  

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l

 

The Irish captain.

 

 

as usual in his roquelaurc of brown, I‘I am glad to

you.

“And I have only to say, monsieur, as I said the
other night, that you are a remarkably lucky man,"
said Arouet with his dry, cynical grin. “Do you
know that I have come on purpose to see you, a
thins; I have refused to do to dukes?“

“I hardly dared hope it,” said Gerald, frankly;
“but I knew you were my friend, and I rejoice to
see your face.”

“Is it possible? Well, I, on the contrar ,nm no
man’s friend. Do not deceiVe yourself. care no-
thing for you. but your intel‘ect. But I see in you a
man of action. I adore action. It is the end of man.
801 have come hither to do you a favor. Ilch‘. you
do not know what it is?"

“ I can guess, inonsieur, but I say nothing.“

“ You have reason. Hoe your equipments. I have
it here, fit for a captain and a count. You are a

‘count of Ireland?”

“ By right, yes; but I have dropped the. title.“

“A‘ial you have wit. Well, here is your servant,
and here are two battki—horses for yourself, with
trunks and apparel fit for your station. I will fur-
nish you with all the means necessary, and that will
be ten thousand francs in all. Now, monsieur le
comte, what say you, will you sign me a bond for
re ayment with interest ‘1“

Gerald hesitated.

“ Monsieur Arouet, I do not see what I have to of-
fer as security.”

“Parbleu!” exclaimed the other, laughing, “but
these soldiers are not all alike. Some would grasp at
the offer and sign anything. Decidedly, you are a
curious young man. If I wished security I Would
not be here. You are a man of honor. Sign this
bond and you are rich.”

“What does it contain?“ asked Desmond, do bt—
fully. His sudden fortune seemed too good t be
true.

Arouet looked at him keenly,
low tor 0:

“Sir; it without speaking before these servants.
It is t e wish of Madame Antoinette. See here.”

he handed him a little ink note. Gerald opened
ltwith trembling hands. t ran thus: ’

“ Do whatever Arouet bids you. He and I will
rotcct you from the enemies that surround you. It
it necessary that you should obey him.”

Gerald turned to Arouet.

"Monsieur, I am in (your hands. For her sake I
will sign the bond, an I put you to your honor to
make no impro or use of my imprudencc.”

Arouct bowc and smiled his very rare smile.

“ Young man," he said, gravely, “you love like
the knights of old, and you make a worn-out courtier
think well of humanity. I will tell you what is in
this bond. It is a promise to pay ten thousand
francs within three years, to obey my orders when
not contrary to the king’s, and to give me interest at
twelve r cent a year.”

“II I been left alone," said Gerald, quietly, “I
would ever have signed it. As it is, I do it for her
lake. 6 pleased to wait.“

He went into his new apartments, caught up a pen

d signed the bond, then delivered it to Aronct,
without a word. The eccentric gentleman put it in
his breast with equal silence, then turned to the

Then he said, in a

servants:

“ Behold your master," he said. curtly. “ Farewell,
count."

Without further adieu he rode slowly away and
before he had passed the long walk, u came an
orderly of the body-guard, full gallop, W10 jumped
off his horse and saluted Gerald.

“Captain Count Desmond of the Second Carabi~
nears? ' »

“The same. What is it?"

“ Orders, monsicur le Comte.”

A; moment l'ttt‘l‘ he was gone, leaving Gerald look-
ing at a great white package directed “Captain
Count Desmond.”

He opened it and read as follows:

“Captain Count Desmond will immediately pro-
ceed to the fronti r, where he will report to Marshal
Cormontalgne in e trenches at Tourna , if he does
not meet him sooner. He will proceet by way of
Meaux, St. Quentin, and Douay, and will be accom—
panied lg thirty troopers, who will report to him to-

ht. y his majesty’s orders. 4
“ Cruuvnus, Sec.“

Even as Gerald raised his eyes from the paper he
heard the clatter of weapons, and beheld the party
of carabinecrs trotting up to his quarters to report.

 

CHAPTER X.
A mnmus connxssrou.

A NARROW country lane in French Flanders wound
here and there through fertile fields, bordered with
thick hed es. The country was of that rich and
closelyc tivated kind, intersected with fences and
ditches, that is exceedingly dangerous for cavalry to

through, while the great weeping trees that
stood at intervals along the hedges, made the scene
ually delightful to an artist.
0‘&)own this narrow lane rode a long file of horsemen,
in white coats faced with crimson wearing glitter-
breastplates, and broad, lace hats over their
w to wi They looked fitter for Paris avements
than not ve service, but the were none t 9 less the
famous carabineers of the rench king’s household,
the most redoubted troops of their day at a charge.

At the head of the arty rode a youn, officer, with
white plume in his at, glittering ol aiguillettes
hanging over his breastplate, whi e is horse‘s hous-
ings were bordered with gold lace. In the rear of the
party followed several loaded sumpter-horses.

The officer was of course our old friend Gerald,
now recognized as Captain Count Desmond, and he
was approaching the end of his journey. Every
now then the sullen boom of a distant gun an-
nounced the a roach to the cit of Tourney close-
] invested by e renowned eng neer Cormon aigne,
the successor of Vauban. The olden glow of sun-
set was over the lande , an the horses reused
cheerftu on. scentin he camp from at, and

iii it with not stinct.
10% Wags-lay ymiq sergennnt?" asked our hero.
'i'fYou have been here before. Haw farisit yet to

Tom I, ,3
“About an miles. MGM"

 

 

“And yonder grove of trees. with those towers ‘

surmounting it. \Vhat is that, sergeant?"
“It used to be the head—quarters of the marshal.

captain, but I hear he has moved in closer to the :

city. ‘

“Then we shall Soon meet the pickets."

He had hardly spoken when .the lane ave a turn,
and asoldier in the middle of the roa cocked his
carbine, with a sonorons “ liait !“

The party stopped and Gerald rode forward alone
to answer the questions of the vidette.

“ ‘Vho are you, and from whench

h“ Captain of Carabineers, to report to the mar-
s nl."

“ You can not pass till the officer arrives with the
relief."

“ llow long will that be?”

“ When the sun goes down.
moment.”

“ Where, are the marshal‘s quarters?"

“ In the camp, captain, but he generally comes
round regularly to visit the pickets. Hark, they ap—
proach even now."

Gerald listened and heard the, tramp of horses
and the clatter of accouterments in the lane at the
next turning. Presently a large party of horsemen
approached, preceded by two men with raised car-
lnnes, the party being a glittering cavalcade of staff
oilicers surrounding a gray-headed officer, in the
uniform of a marshal of France.

Gerald reined back respectfully.

“ Marshal Cormontaigne,“ said the picket, in a
low tone.

Presently up came the marshal, and halted in front
of Gerald.

“ Who are you, monsieur‘F' he asked, sharply.

“ Captain esmond, inonsieur le niarecha , to re-
port to you. "

. The marshal‘s countenance ew grave, and he
scanned Gerald with a strange ook.

“ You are prompt monsieur. I did not ex ct
you till to-niorrow. have received orders a ut
you. Ri e with me and I will tell you."

Then h turned to a dark, gloomy-looking'officer
on his staff.

“ Baron d' Et-ioles, take charge of monsieur‘s
part and see them quartered near my tent. They
will 6 my escort, till his majesty arrives. Captain
Desmond, Lieutenant Baron d” Etioles, of your
squadron. You will be comrades in future. Baron,
this is Captain Count Desmond."

The two (young men saluted with stiff courtesy.
Gerald coul not tell the reason, but he ex rienced
a singular dislike to the baron at first sig t, a feel-
ing which the other seemed to reciprocate, from his
cod and disagreeable manner. And yet the baron
was a very hand =ome man, with an unmistakable
air of haughty nobility.

The two rtles now separated, and Gerald found
himself ri( ing alone with the marshal, who soon
entered into conversation.

“Monsieur le comte," he said, “ I have orders to
send you on a ve peculiar and dangerous service,
for which I hearti y wish his majesty had chosen a
person of less consideration. But, as you are aware,
the king’s orders must not be questioned."

“ What is the service, monsieur le inareclial?"
air-{keg Desmond, as the old officer became suddenly
s on .

“It is to take charge of a powder-mill, in a lonel
forest, byapond, within ten miles of the EnliSi
outposts," said the marshal, in a low voice. ‘ The
garrison is small, there is every likelihood that the
enemy may attack it, the powder is useless out
there, and we want it; yet I have strict orders not to
dismantle it, till his majesty comes to join the
troo s.” ,

“ ’hen am I to go there?“ asked Gerald.

“ To-night, as soon as we get back to camp," re-
lied the marshal. “ By-the-by, you came from
‘lare’s cuirassiers, did you 0t?" . '

“Yes,” said Gerald, won , ring.

“Well, there is an officer of your old regiment a
new promotion, one Sub-lieutenant Carroll, w 10
arrived here this morning. The orders specify him
as your second in command."

‘ Jack Carroll here, monsieuri Oh, that is indeed
good news. He is my sworn comrade. Now we
shall perform our duty well.“

The marshal looked keenly but kindly at the
young man as they. rode along.

“ Monsieur 1e comtc," he said abruptly, “ I like
you and your comrade. Tell me, have you any
reason to believe you have an enemy at court ‘3"

“ I do not know, monsieur le niareclial. I have at
least one 00d friend there." -

“ Ah! w o is that?“

“ Monsieur, I do not even know her name, except
as Madame Antoinette. It is through her I obtained
my commission.“

Cormontaigne looked at him again, from under

I expect them every

his ray brows.
“ ndeed—well, well—I do net wonder," he mut-
tered. 

Then he sunk into a fit of absence that lasted dur-
ing the rest of the ride, and till they came into the
camp by a circuitous route.

There they found the city of Tournay, with its
low, white lines of wall, under green embankments,
surrounded bya still larger city of white tents, in
regular order, while the drums and trumpets were
sounding “retreat,” and the soldiers were answer-
ingV roll-call.

he marshal invited. Gerald into his tent and dis-
patched an orderly with some instructions after
which he sat down at a table and began scribbling
at some papers.

Presen ly there was a tap at the tent door.

gaining” said the old marshal, and resumed his
w ng.

The next moment the gigantic figure of Carroll
stood in the tent, in the dress of an officer of Ciare‘s
cuirassiers, and the fribnds silently grasped each
other‘s hands.

The could not speak, out of t to the mar-
shal, at their eyes devoured one other with ex-
pressive glances. Oormontaigne went on writing,
and for some time there was a dead silence. At
ltast the old warrior rose, with a sigh of satisfac-

ion. - ~
“It is finished. Monsieur-s, I am at your service."

“I was ordered to report to you,'“monsieur le
marechal " said Carroll. ” Have you any orders?"

“You, lieutenant. You will place yourself under

i

 

 

Captain Count Desmond, with ten men, and follow
his directions."

“ And Where wilt i get the men, monsieur?”

“ They are ready now, a detachment of volunteers
for special service."

“ Faith. then, I'm ready now, monsieur,” said
Carroll, carelessly.

“It is well. ow for you, nionsieur le comte.
Here are your orders."

IIe handed Gerald the papers on which he had
been writing.

“Your instructions and authority are here. I
have sent for the escort, who will be here in a few
ininptes. By-the-by, you will have to take care
of a lady to a chateau in the vicinity of your sta—
tion, count. She is Mademoiselle .e hormand,
niece of the former general of the revenues. You
will make the journey tonight, and the guide prom-
ises to have you there long before morning. Brad
your orders carefully, when you et to your post,
count. There is no time now. emember, the
are to be obeyed to the letter. I hear the escorg:
Your servants and horses are with them. God be
with you, gentlemen, and hrin you safe back.
When his majesty arrives, I sha ress at once foo
your relief. At present you are on esperatc duty.“

The old marshal held out his hands with soldier]
frankness, and the comrades grasped them with
respectful cordiality. Both thought they had 11er
met a more kind and genial leader.

Then there was a clatter of armor at the door; and
a big burly sergeant of dragoons, wi h a ban (1
face, and an ugly red scar across his nose and 
cheeks, stood stiflly saluting at the door.

“ Escort ready, monsieur le mareehal."

“Verycgood, sergeant. This is Count Desmond,
your le er, and Lieutenant Carroll, second in com~
mand. Who‘s the guide Y"

“ I am so please your honor."

“ See t at on do {our duty, sergeant.“

The mars al spo e in a stern, sharp tone and
looked keenly at the ugly sergeant, who, Gerald saw,
had but one eye.

The sergeant silently saluted, standing like a post.

“ Gentlemen: good-evening,” said the old marshal.

Then they left the tent, and found a. party of
dragoons outside, in the dusk of the evening, sitting
on their horses around a covered horse-litter.
Gerald‘s servnn s and led horses, and Carroll‘s single
lackey, were in waiting, and the chargers of both
officers.

They mounted, and Gerald spoke to the sergeant.

“ Which way, sergeant?”

“ Toward the frontier, your honor," said the man,
respectfuily.

Gerald gave the word, and the party moved off
into the gathering gloom. As the marshal's tent
was in the rear of the camp, they were soon clear
of the tent; and as they approached the ickets the
moon rose. The sergean gave the wor , and they
were soon past, and on their way to the open coun-

try.

“ And now, Jack,” said Gerald, as they rode along
a broad, flat road. bordered with willows, with a
ditch on each side for miles ahead, “ tell me how, in
the name of all that is wonderful, you came here,
with a commission?" \

“ ’As enough, darlin’." said the giant, coolly.
“Sure was the senior volunteer, and they‘ve been
fillin’ the squadrons. Clare behaved like a gentle~
man entirely, and lirlped me to buy epaulettes and
such. But if that‘s a quare thing, what d‘ye
think of this?”

He lowered his tone. cautiously.

“ D'ye ind the purty er’atvre that came out, the
tilrlne ye pmked the Frenchman in the street by the
a ev?’

“Yes, yes," said Gerald, eager] . “What then?"

“ She's in (he lit/er, bay/mt," sai Carroll, in a whis-
per. “Sure it hates me entirely what she‘s doin‘

ere, but I‘ll go bail she’s the same.“

y ‘t‘ Igipossiblei" ejaculated the young count—“ and
8 so—"

He sunk into a profound reverie, and Carroll was
equally silent. The CM alcade pursued its eastward
march. ,

 

CHAPTER XI.
TEACHING A MAN unsssns.

Tm: road on which our adventurers were travel-
ing went on, straight as an arrow, mile after mile
Over the same unvarying flat, with the same eterna
row of epollard willows on each side. The land-
scape was more Dutch than Flemish, in its monot~
ony, and the only variety was given by the occa-
sional spire of a village cnurch, embowered in trees,
on either hand.

For at least an hour the steady tramp of the
horses and the dull jingle of accouterments were
the onl sounds audible. The men in the escort
kept strict silence, or conversed in occasional mut-
tered words, the two officers were buried in thought
and the occupant of the litter, whoever she migh
be, was as silent as if inanimate.

The se ant, who officiated as guide, rode on
ahead, an so they kept on, till the road gave a
sweep to the left,‘ meeting another road at an acute

angle.
ere Gerald trotted up to the sergeant, and do
manded:

“ Which do we take, sergeant?”

“ The left hand.” responded the man, gruffly. H!
seemed to have lost in a moment all the respect he
had shown in camp.

“Whomual‘e on addressing?" cried Gerald.
Shad? y Do t ey omit to teach manners to their
:33le gigs’in your regiment? Salute when you nddrem

The sergeant turned his face on Gerald. with a
forbniildngiscowl. 4

“ yr ment is of Picard ," he
“ and we have no Irish—~—” y “id, savagely.

The words were not out of his mouth when Gerald
struck him with his clenched list a blow that lent
him over the side of his horse, and the you ca
tain, at the same moment, tiptpgl the footnIn tlfi;
stirrup nearest to him with the of his own heavy
Egon 'léhfi result toffthh‘e aliigéileuve‘ii was, gilt the

n p ouo s can camo~ownon
his head in t e hard.

road.
“Now, my friend," said Gerald, coolly, “you‘ll
learn t: all office of wdhatcvcr regiment,
after . u , an mo villy whuo does
the other road to?" , .'

i

. -1... - I_. .,.'_.—~......M~—._._ 

.._. .._......._..._.. ~..__ ._

Una,

. m---.~ ,.~.—.—.........— *1“

» .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thenirifihucaptam‘ ,

 

L

The discomflted sergeant rose to his feet, with
me blood streamin down his face. His demeanor
was entirely alte now, being humble even to scr-
vilit .

“The other road leads to Brussels, captain," he
said. “The English are on it, about ten miles off."

“ How far are we from our destination? ’ _

“From the Chateau Dillon, about three miles,
inonsieur lc comte," said the sergeant, still more
humbly; “ from the powder-mill, five."

“ What is your name?" asked Gerald, sternly.

“ Jean Donard, nion ieur le comte, but they know
me lwsi as ‘ Le Borgne ‘ (One-Eye)”

“Well, master Bonard," said Gerald, authorita-
tively, “get on your horse and lead on. It‘s lucky
you were not insolent to Lieutenant Carroll, for he
would have dasned your brains out."

The scr eant humbly removed his hat, and then
mounted fiiis horse, just as the rest of ihe part y
came up. Without another word he led on in the
new read, while Gerald sat still on his horse. and al—
lowed the party to pass him. The behavior of the
sergeant had mused a suspicion in his mind that
ihe rest of his party might be of the same kind,
iles rate characteis, hard to control. The lesson
he ad given their chief seemed to have sobered the
latter completely, and the young captain desired to
Inspect the rest. He made an imperceptible sign to
Carroll, who was hesitating whether to speak, to
move on, and by slowl falling to the rear, took a
good look at every man 8 face as he passed.

When he had concluded the inspection, he thought
to himself that he had seldom seen a more desper-
ate-looking set of fellows, every man With the hard-
ened look of an old criminal, rather than a soldier.

Touching his horse with the spur, he cantered up
- to regain his lace, and in so domg passed the cur-

tains of the iorse-litter. As he did so, he cast a
curious glance that way, and beheld the curtains
carted, while the inmate beckoned to him with a
white arm. He could not see her face, which was
whind the curtain.

In a moment Gerald was beside the litter.

“Fall back,” he said, curt iy, to the ne rest nerd,
“and you, the next, ride ahead. We w sh to
talk.“ " .

Both men obeyed with perfect doedi'y. It was
evident hat they had witnessed the summary treat-
ment of “Le Borgne,” and were not yet prepared

- to show open insubonlinatiom

“Monsieur,” whispered a sweet voice, the next
mo ent, “ I can not be mistaken in your face. You

are Cou t Desmo (1."

“And you ar ‘ Mademoiselle Therese," said Gerald,
in a low tone. “I am sure of it.”

“ I am Therese Le Normand,“ answered the lady,
softly; and she put out a little white hand in the
moonlight. Gerald took it, and felt a gentle pressure
of the soft palm, as he raised it to his lips.

“ Monsieur le comte,” said Therese still in a
whisper, “do you know that you a 0 going to great
dan ers?"

“ have been told so," sai‘. Gerald, somewhat
stit‘ii .

“ Ton are going to great danger," she repeated;
“and for the sake of her whom you saved from
teath. One ril you have escaped by skill with
the sword. e next will be far more deadly."

“Then why are you here?" asked Gerald, unable
to conceal his surprise. “ If Iam in danger, you are
still more so.“

“I am in no danger," she answered. “Not one
of these wretches that are around you would dare
to harm a hair of my head.” _

“ Then why are you here?” he asked again.

“ Antoinette sent me,” she answered. " You have
powerful en mics, and I an the only one that can
save you.” . .

“ Indeed, mademoiseile,” said Gerald, politely,
but alittle coldl ; ” it must he confessed t at you
put me in a cur ous position. A soldier looking to
p. otection from a lady."

Therese heaved a deep sigh. Hitherto she had
retai ed his hand as if she was unconscious of what
she was doing. Now she suddenly threw it a ay
with a petulant motion.

“ Go away then," she said.
Leave me."

The next minute the curtains of the litter were
closed tightly, and Ger 11 found hims it shut out
from further intercourse with the young lad . It
must be confessed that he turned aw y himsel with
a feeling of s mething like pi ue. .

He was deeply, irretri va 1 in love With Ma-
dame Antoinette, and on the at at hand, he had on-
ly seen Madame Therese once, and was by no means
in love with her. I deed, he felt guilty at allowmg
himself to assume a tender tone towa d her, as a
sort of breach of fidelity to the fair one he adored.
Yet there was something so 'Fleasaut in the sweet,
almost caressing manner of herese, that her sud-
den revulsion to anger and coldness, struck him it ith
a nameless chill.

With compressed lips, he spurred away from the
dangerous Vicinity, and arrived at the head of the
party, where e found that during the short con-
versation, the character of the road had chan ed.
It was now climbin a gentle ascent, an I the ark'
outline of a forest rowned before it in the moon-‘
light. Carroll was riding at the head of the part ,
and s lently pointed ahead. The towers of 0. cas e
loomed above the trees.

“ I’m thinking there’s the place to l’ave the ladly,"
he said. “ Sergeant Bonard tells me it’s c ed
Chateau Dillon, though how an Irishman comes to
own it, is more t an can tell."

“ Has Bonard l een ciVilf" asked Gerald.

“ Faith and he‘s as soft as a cat asktzi‘ for creme,
since ye gave him that little ta . Ye did it well,
Gerald. Icouldn‘t have bettered myself."

“Well, then, Ithink that you ad I t ether can
keep the rest in order—eh, Jack? They re a rough
part- , but they won‘t mutiny just vet.

" {rue for ye, my boy, it‘s little I care for‘them in

“ You are insensate.

a mutiny. But where are we to 0, Gerald?
“ I‘ll tell you as we go along. eantime, we must
oee to our duty. "

The one-e ed sergeant here rode back and, hat in
hand, reported that they had reached Chateau Dil-
ion.

A few moments later, the passed up an
avenue of telms and halted be ore a wide cover
nous po a train of servants

‘mghgbtfazli‘f‘ctthoguardubadbeenetpoctod.

 

 

CHAPTER XII.
an UGLY PLACE.

GERALD dismounted from his horse, and advanced
to the litter. The curtains were alread drawn back,
and he perceived that Therese Le orinand was
masked in the fashion of ladies traveling in those
days. e assisted her, in silence, to dismount, and
handed her up the steps to where a group of serv.
ants stood awaiting her.

Then he drew hack and bowed respectfully.

“ Has madeinoiselle any further orders? If not,
duty is done.“

‘I have nothing but my thanks for your escort,

monsieur “ said There , in her sweet tones. Then

she added, in a whisper, “ Be cautious for my sake

—no, I mean for hers." '

Gerald bowed still lower. There was a tender so-
licitiide ln'the tone that penetrated his heart in spite
of his devotion to another.

“ I will be cautious, as far as my duty permits,” he
said.

Then he turned and descended the steps, remount-
ed his horse, the lady entered the house, the door
closed and the party of dragoons was riding slowly
down the avenue.

Desmond and Carroll kept togetlor at the head
and con‘verscd in low tones, while Sergeant Bonard
acted as an advance.

“We are going on desperate service, Jack," be
an Gerald. “What the danger is I do not know,
ut the marshal seemed to think it great. He warn-

cd me to read in orders carefully and obey them to
the letter, but w at they are I do not know yet, ex~
cept that we are to occupy a powder-mill, within
two miles of the English out sts."

“ A wder-mill! Holy uses!“ ejaculated Car-
roll. ‘ What the divil do they want to be puttin‘ a
temptation into the Englishmeii‘s way for, to put a
hot shot into us, and send us all to lory?"

“ Those are our orders, that‘s all can say."

“ Mighty quare orders, then. Where is this blessed
ould mill?"

“ Bonard is leading us there.“

The young captain gave the word, and the little
celumn quickencd its pace and trotted along the
road. The latter had chan ed from a bro hard
stone road to a narrow, so t bridle-path, Winding
here and there amid a wood that grew darker and
darker every moment.

In lace of the oaks and beeches that surrounded
the hateau Dillon, the trees were now mostly firs,
dark and somber in hue, and excluding the wind. A
deep stillness was over the forest, and the footsteps
of t 1e horses muffled in the sandy soil, were dull and
faint. The jingle of accouterments was lost in the
soft masses of foliage that acted as a cushion to ah-
sorb sound, and insensibl the influence of the scene
weighed on the spirits o the party, who sunk into
dead silence, even the officers ceasin to converse.

Mile after mile‘ of the solemn w they traversed
in the mic moonlight, the road winding here and
there, t 10 scene remaining of the same dull and
In iibrious character.

may now and then, where the path rew broader,

they could see the tracks of wheels, 0 d and nearly
effaced, but the absence of other marks prove . that
the road was seldom traversed.

After ten minute's trotting they sunk into a stead ',
rapid walk, the horses stepping out in a long, slas -
ing gait, as cavalry horses are wont to do on night
marches.

At last Bonard, who was in advance, halted, and
as the party came up, they instinctively followed his

e.

exanvv)
“ e are close to the mill " said Le Borgne, in a
low tone. “ At the next turn‘ve shall come on the
sentry. Is it lyour pleasure to advance, monsieur le
comte or abs 1 I give the watchword?" ‘

“ What is it?” asked Gerald, who remembered for
the first time that he had it not.

“ It is Neerwinden," said One-E 'e, respectfully.

“ Then you may give it," said t e captain, 'after a
moment‘s hesitation.

Le Borgne saluted and rode on.

A moment later they were challenged b a sentry
from the side of the road. The column alted, Le
Borgne dismounted and advanced on foot, and a

m

muttered conversation ensued betw In the sergeant ,

and the sentr , whi h lasted much onger than the
usual formali y.

Gerald grew impitient and suspicious at once.

“ Hols, Bonard,” he exclaimed. “ what‘s the mat-
ter? We can‘t stay here all night. Is the word cor-
rect'or not?“

He heard a few rapid mutterings, and then the
voice of the sentry sai , in a sulky tone:

“ Countersign correct. Advance, relief guard."

“ Relief guard i” echoed the captain, spurring for-
warddto the man. “ Who told you this was a relief-

]. y!’

'ihe sentry lOoked up. Gerald could see that he
wore the uniform of the regiment of Picardy, to
which One-Eye belonged, and was equally villainous
in ex ression.

“ e sergeant said so, captain,” he answered,
somewhat sullen , but maki a salhte at the same
time. “ I am on y a poor sol er and knows no bet-
ter than to do what I am told."

“ dyou do that, my friend, we shall et on,” said
Geral , more kindly. “Forward, marc i”

The little cavalcade moved on, and the road. after

a circular sweep came out on the borders of a large
pond, around which it wound, in front of a forest
of pine of which many were here and naked
others twisted and blackened, and but a fewvand
those of a small size, presenting a healthy appear-
once.

Somewhat to Gerald‘s surprise, the one-eyed ser-

eant spoke to him in a manner perfectly respectful,

at more confidential than hitherto.
The trees look wretched, sir, do they not! It was
the explosion of about five vears ago."

;: How did it happen Y" asked Gerald, interested.

The artillery train was here, monsieur, loading
up, and no one knows how it came. It may have
been a boot-nail struck fire. Anywa . I remember
it well. I was near here, by the lakeside, and saw a
great white duh over at the house yonder. Mon-
sieur sees it?"

Gerald looked across the pond and'sawa t
block shed inabare patch surrounded with €31
Five or six tents were near it, by the water‘s edge,
 lanternwu hung onthotopof apoiein

S ; '

 

'7

“ That is the mill, monsieur le comte. In a mo-
ment the air seemed full of tire, and I, who was at
the other side of the lake was blown into the bushes
and knocked senseless. When Icame to, monsieur,
I shall never forget the sight. Mei Were lying
about, on the land and in the water, all torn to
pieces. ’Twas there I lost the sight of my eye, and
got that scar.”

Insensibly Gerald‘s heart softened as Le B0 0
spoke. He accused himself of having taken a dis ike
to him for his scarred face, and wished to make up
to him for his injustice.

“ Never mind, sergeant," he said, kindly. “ Many-
a soldier has got a wound in a worse way. Only be
faithful to orders, and you and I will never quarrel
again."

Le Borgne made a riieful grimace.

I hope not, monsieur 1e com I own it is the
fashion of us soldiers to try tie patience of new
officers, but we bear no ill-will to one that puts us
down. The men will stick to you, monsieur. The
path turns here."

The nd was here filled in by a straight-edged
emban 'ment for a considerable distance, leaving a
broad esplanade, which seemed to be covered with
dried clay, for it echoed loudly under the feet of the
horses, in contrast to the soft sand that had hitherto
made the road. .

Gerald halted and dismounted his party.

“Jack,” he said to Carroll, "we we in a danger-
ous place, and I don't mean to run an risks by tak-
ing shod horses over gritty sand. co the men
acre while I go on with the sergeant to nd who is

ere.’

“True for ye,“ said Carroll, uneasily. “ It‘s a
{nighty quare position iiitirely. I'll be glad of day-
ig t.‘ .

“ No more than I shall,“ said Gerald, in a low tone.

The he and the sergeant crossed the esplanade
10:1“ Loot, and approached the white tents and the red

.rn.

 

 

There is something peculiarly awe-inspirinng
soldier in the vicinity of a powder magazine. Am
tomed as he is to witness the destructive effects of
powder in small quantities, when he comes inthe
presence of hundreds of barrels, he inevitably feels
subdued. If this is the case in a heavy, stone case-
mate where the wder is careful] stored away,
the access of visi ors barred, and w ere every pre-
caution is taken to prevent da er, the case is
magnified where he comes to a frail wooden shed in
a forest, without even a fence around it to keeg of!
any stra animal that might wander in, and w ere
the pow er lies around loose on the floor, or floats
in fine black dust out of every crevice.

As raid and the sergeant approached the tents,
moreover, a fresh source of uneasiness was discov-
ered. Gerald thought that he perceived a limmer-
ing light near the water‘s edge, not far rom the
post which held the lantern.

“Come this way, Bonard," he said, ourtly, and
bent his steps thither.

What was his surprise, and for the moment con-
sternation, to find that the glimmering light was
neither more nor less than the dull red embers of a
little wood-fire! It was covered with ashes, it is true,
but the end of a blackened stick had been left pro~
truding, and a red line of smoldering sparks was
creeping out into the airi

W thout a moment’s hesitation, Gerald withdrew
the stick and threw it into the mud, where its!
pired wit a hiss. Then he took 0 his hat.

“Come, Eonard," he said, in a low tone of an:
iety, ’2‘ drown every spark. These fellows must a"

The one-eyed sergeant made no objections. What-
ever his s )il‘il} might be, he was too sensible not w
perceive t at the lives of all resent were in danger
while the tire was alight. W thout a word, ca tair
and se ,eant filled their hats with water, and dfilug
ed the re, whence a cloud of steam instantly arose

Not till it was completely out did Gerald turn away

Then he said:

“Come sergeant; they seem to be asleep. Let 1'
awaken them.”

 

CHAPTER XIII.
on Gun».

Tun young caBtain advanced toward the tents
where all was sti and silent. It struck Gerald witI
amazement, as contrary to all military rules, that
when there was a sentry on the road outside, her!
there seemed to be no guard or relief.

As be ap roached, the first tent, he was admonish
ed] by lou snores that some one was inside, and
as eep. -

“Pretty work, this," he said angril , as he seized
the flap of the tent door and threw it ck, allowing‘
the moonlight to stream inside.

There, on the floor, around a barrel, which stool
upright, lay three soldiers, fast aslee , while an ex-
tinguished candle stood on the h of the barrel,
having burned down to the socket of the candle-
st 0 .

A strong smell of brandy pervaded the tent, and a
tin cup, half full of liquor standing by the candle,
gave rise to a strong suspicion tha the three men
were dead drunk, as indeed their stcrtorous breath-
ing sufllcientl testified.

erald st looking at them in silence for a few
tniilinuttleiii) Then he turned to the sergeant, who stood

en y y.

“A guard they k . here, Bonn-d ” he could
not be p saying, with some ittcrness. “ Is this your
re ment of Picardyf"

e one-eyed sergeant's countenance for a moment
assumed the look of a demon, and was oi.
most sorry he had taunted  The next it gave
place to a humble and apologetic expression.

“Your honor has reason to my so," he replied.
with a choked voice. “They o ht to be shot. '

Gerald taunted him no more. 6 leaned over and
took the candlestick.

“Throw it into the lake," he said, briefly. “It i
not your fault, sergeant."

Le Borgne saluted gravely, stalked down to the
lake and. threw the candlestick fai- into the water.
abet: he returned and followed Gerald to the other.

11

Tboywero four in number. Two were piled “'51
stores of provisions and the other two contained I
run each, fast asleep. Without an exec ion, it
turned that every one in camp was drunk.

touts a m was an burning. h .

 

 

.
F

I,’

,_ 4"me up (iom:—You are hereby ordered to

bayonet-shank tne point of the weapon being sunk

 

§

 

 

 

In the sand, w ile the tent was full of straw. This
I ht also Gerald threw into the lake, and then, with
mind soniewhat easier. proceeded to the mill it-
:lft, which was about a hundred yards back of the

n s.

The great black shed loomed up in the moonlight,
and to his still greater surpri 'e, c perceived that a
small side—door under the gable-end of the shed was
wide open.

“Well, sergeant," he said, with a forced laugh, “it
must be confessed that we have a pleasant post to
oecu y. My only wonder is, that we find the shed
still ere." .

“It is shameful, your honor," said the sergeant,
humbly. “I am heartily thankful your honorcamc
here to save us all.“

Gerald stopped.anrl kicked off his heavy boots.
studded with nails. He knew too Well the danger of
strikin ' fire to neglect any precaution. He advanced
to the ttle door alone, for Bonarrl remained as if
rooted to the spot. The big sergeant was trembling
from head to foot.

Gerald peered into the shed. The roof had several
large ps, through which the moonlight streamed
down nto the place, and he saw the orderly piles
of black barrels ranged one above the (ther, while
the.floor was covered with black dust. Away in
the rear of the shed he heard the drippin and

r s lash of falling water, and realize that
the whee by which the 1:Frinding machinei was
worked must be there. c had noticed be ore a
narrow ditch leading from the pond beside the

t sh *d, and saw that the ground sloped down
hind the mill, where breazs in the trees afforded
glimpses of an open country.

He softly closed the door. and slid the rusty bdlt
into its stage, then went back to Le Borgne.

“ Has th mill been worked lately?” he asked.

“ Not since the siege began, monsieur le comte."

“ Well, that is lucky. Let us go."

They turned away, Passed through the little camp,
and crossed the esp anade to where they had left
the horses.

As they approach, they heard the voice of the
Irish lieutenant raisod in sharp, angry tones.

“I don‘t care who the divil tould ye to come
back, I my ye don‘t go a step further, ye thief of
the world. Ground yer carb no and stand still, or
I’ll brain c with the butt of this istol,“

Gerall urried up, and found is gigan ic friend
standing in front of the dismounted dragoon of
the regime‘t of Picardy, who had been acting as
sentry, who had come back, and seemed to be ex-
postulating.

“ Here's this boy, comin’ back off his post as if
‘twas all right," said Carroll, indignantly, as Des-
mond came up. -

“Please, monsieur, I am but obe ing orders,"
said the soldier, in an injured tone. ‘ The sergeant
fiave me orders to com.) back and wake up the rc-

ef when the moon was over a certain tree, and this
officer has stopped me "

“ What sergeant are you talking about,my friend ?"
asked Desmond.

“ Sergeant Poirier, your honor."

“ Is he in command of your squad?"

“Yes, your honor.”

“Very well,,my fri nd. I am in command here
now," said Gerald, sternly; "and I have serious
thoughts of shootin your whole part for neglect
of duty. They are al dead drunk in i e tents. AL;
forf you, stay where you are. I relieve you my-
se .’

The dragoon made no more resistance. IIc step-
ped back into the midst of the arty to whom he
seemed to be known, while Geral' bec (Oiled Carr. ll
to his side. ,-

“ Jack," he said, “ we must keep awake all night.“

“ And that’s 'asy said.”

“ Ay, but we must do it to-morrow, too, or at least
only one must sleep at a time."

“ I'll take the first watch, then.”

“ No, I must do that. The responsibility is mine."

“ Very W011. Anything to pl’asc c.“

“ First, we must put every one of the present guard
in irons."

“ What for?"

“ They‘re all dead drunk, the magazine‘s been left
0 n, and candles have been burning close to heaps
o straw.”

“ Holy Moses l"

" You may wonder. \Vhen these fellows wake up,
I‘ll find where they got their liquor, and spill it all in
the lake.” ,

Carroll made a grimacc.

“ And not l‘ave a dro if"

" Not a drop," said crald, firmly. “We’ve got an
unrul lot to control at best. If they get liquor-wild
then hcy’ll be devils. Self-preservation compels the

mess .

“ Then it‘s no use talkin ," said Carroll, with a
sigh. “It’s a pity to spo' good punch with too
much wather, but you‘re commander.”

Gerald could not restrain a smile at his comrade’s
speech, but the o casion was too serious for pleasant-
ry. He ordered the horses to be tied to trees, leav-

a single guard, and marched the rest of the men
to e tents, whence, in a short time, the sleeping in-
ebriatcs were brought forth, and securely bound
with ropes, for there were no irons about.

Then the young captain ordered the tents to be
taken down and moved away from the dangerous
vicinity, with the exception of thesis containing
stores. They were put up near the horses and ra-
tions of forage issued, but Gerald ositively forbid
any cooking of food with fire, till day ' ht should dis-
close a safe place.

The men made no resistance. and discipline seemed
to be perfectly tablished. ard was set and
in this condition hey waited for e morning, all the
men sleeping, exec t a single sentry. The two of-
ficers were too anx ous as yet to lumber.

At last the moon set‘and all was dark. Gerald and
Carroll waited silently for the coming of the mom-
ing and in the meantime the former removed the
Ian rn from the tall pple, carried it over to the
tents, and by its light commenced-tho meal of his
mysterious orders. They were all in no handwrit-

of WCormontaigne, and ran as follows:

"‘ Ion r:

(a coma do Desmond.
' '  241 Royal 0.0mm":

 

.. . . .t
I. HEM-v

 

The Irish Captain.

r

 

the command of the Powder Mill and Magazine at
the Pond of Doigny, which you will preserve from
any force which the enemy may send against you at
the risk of all your lives. The party which you find
there you will retain with our own. and make fre-
quent atrols in the neigh rhood of your post to
ascerta n if the enemy are moving toward you. If
such a thing should hap cu, you are to delay him as
long as you can, and d spatch a trusty sergeant to
these head-quarters with the news. In any cvcnt,
before stirrii g, you will lay a train to blow up the
mill when the eucmy arrives. You will remain at
your inst till relieved from these head- uarters or
by Ol‘t er of the king or Marshal Saxe. on wii be
particular to allow no stran ers inside of the sentry
on the road to Tournay by hateau Dillon. If it be-
comes necessary to blow up the mill, and you are
left alive, return to Tourney. Conuox'ruons."

Gerald read this aloud to his comrade, and Carroll
remarked:

“It’s ‘as said, detain the enemy, but how will we
do it with fteen men, and five of them drunk i”

Gerald was silent for some time. At last he said:

“ I see only one thing to do, Jack—our duty, and
trust to Provitkencc."

“And its he powder dry, as ould Cromwell—
bad luck to im—nscd to say. By the powers, Ger—
ald Desmond, I‘d not cry much if the pond was to
drown the whole lot of it."

“ If we could depend on our men, I‘d not. be so
uneasy,“ said the young captain. thoughtfully.
“ What do '01: think of Le Borgne, Jack?"

“I thinl: e's a gallows-bird " said Carroll. ithily,
“but I think you ve ot him nto proper cn'i ity, b
the whalin‘ ye give h m. I wouldn t trust him wit
a cold anvil myself."

“ Good or bad, we must make the best of it now."
said Gerald, yawning. “ Go to sleep, Jack. Yonder‘s
the sun rising, and I take first watch.”

As he spoke the dawn broke over the scene.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
A norm or s'riquam.

Anou'r noon of that day a troop of the re al cara-
bineers, about twent strong, headed by t 6 dark-
looking Baron d” Etio es, passed by the avenue of the
Chateau Dillon, and too the narrow road to the
Pond of Doigny.

By the side of the baron was a slender Italian-
faced lad, whose limbs and figure were almost femi-
nine in their delicacy, while his countenance wore an
expression of reckless bravado, natural to a spoiled
page, which his dress indicated him to be.

While the rest of the party bestrode hea dafiple-
gray Norman horses, the page rode a slen er 0 est-
uut Arab. of fiery temper, and found it hard to
restrain from walking away from its more ponderous
companions.

As they passed the avenue that led to the chateau,
the gage uttered a sneering laugh.

“ ademoiselle is happy now, I suppose, baron, in
her maiden solitude.” .

The baron scowlcd heavily at the chateau, and an—
swerod:

“I hate these devotees, Giannina. If it were not
at: her cursed scruples, I might be a marquis to-

‘,.H v

“ It‘s lucky some one else is more accommodating,”
said the disguised girl, with the same evil sneer.
“ Monsieur lc baron may be amarquis yet if all turns
out well."

“ And it shall, girl, it shall,” said the baron, clench-
ing his teeth. “The time is almost come now, and
she knows how to play her cards well, for the place
she came from."

“What a pleasant reputation you will have then,
my friend,” said Giannina, flashing her wicked black
eyes up at him. "We women are bad enough, but
you men sometimes excel us. I am glad I'm not a
man "

“ You ma be sorigayour woman's to e wags so
fast," grow ed the ron, with a scow. “What’s
mv reputation to you, you fool 1"

“ Oh, nothing " she answered, light] . “ You have
a nice family a together Etiolcs. Wllat a pity your
one saint should be all one."

The baron uttered a stifled curse.

“ Come on, you jade,“ he said shaking his bridle;
“trot up, or We shall never get there.”

“It’s a strange thing “ pursued Giannina, tran-
quilly as she centered a on beside him, “that Mar-
shal Lormontaigne should ve selected yiu, of all
the people in the world, to reinforce this chivalrous
Irish count." ~

Etioles‘s face broke into a triumphant leer.

“There's one obstacle that I can remove, at all
events,“ he said. “I verily believe there is more
dan er 1 him than in Therese to our plans." .

“ on ave reason, my friend. There is no tcllin
what caprices we women take sometimes, an
madame is capable of throwing aside every thin
for love. He is a handsome fellow, this count, an
you know he has the opposite complexion. Beauty

ovcs contrast, Etioles. ‘

Again the baron laughed. I

“We’ll spoil his beauty before we’re done, how-
ever,” he muttered. '

Then they allo ed at a round pace along the path
which Geral and is men had traveled the night be-
fore, and arrived at the 03:71 or." the road that led to
the pond, only to be haltgd by the ominous click of
a carabine as a mounted drmgoou, lit the uniform
of the regiment of l.’icardy covered the L ‘ non
of Etioles with his place. At the same moment
they heard the clattering of scabbards and horse
furniture a little way on, and a ve. big officer on a
blac charger moved up the ma to support his
vedette.

The big officer wore fierce red mustache: curling
up to his eyes, and a black patch of plaster on his

left cheek, and at séfiht of him, Etioles abruptly
axles! up and trembl visibly, while he muttered to
n na:

“ He here tool Curse the luck !"
Lieutenant John Carroll, of Clare's' Cuiralsiars
rode tranquilly forward to the vedet-to, and called
out tothe in:
“Well, monsieur, whither so fast? No‘ one passe-
this way, ye must know."
“Facile: heksitrted a moment befotre he replied.
on espo e ave sweettoneo o ‘oomtesy.
“ l have 011103me al Carmen y mon-
sieur. Are you the captain-count, 

 

 

“IIis lordship, the Earl.of Athlcne,” said Car-
roll, laying on emI basis on the title, “is at present
asleep, having kcpt watch since yesterday. Iain
empowered to receive any orders that come to him."

“Ah, then you are—Y” said Etioles, inquiriugly.

“ Sir John Carroll, of Castle Bally Carroll, in the
county of Kilkenny, Ireland, gentleman and bar. 1:-
ct, but unfortunately deprived of me ancestral pos-
scrsions temporarily ” said Carroll, with a lofty air.
“ Ye see monsieur, there was a thavin‘ blackguard
they called William of Orange, who came with an
immense army of foreign cutthronts, and drove out.
me grandfather, along with his gracious majesty,
hing James the Second of blessed memory, and
since that time me grandfather has thought it
expedient to dro the ancestral title till we drive out
the black bro of Sasscnachs, and regain Castle
Bally Carroll."

Having delivered this little speech with an air of
charming aifability, he added, as if with an after-
thought: .

“So at present, I'm Sub-lieutenant Carroll, of
Clara’s Horse, at your service, monsieur,"

Etioles listened to the vapor-in Celt with wonder
which he forbore to show in is face, for he had‘
{leasons for keeping the gigantic lieutenant in good

umor.

He raised his hat with great courtesy.

“I am charmed to know a entleman of such
noble famii ,Monsieur Carroll, he said, sweetly.
“We shall comrades, I presume, for the marshal
has dispatched me hither with these men to rein-
force Count Desmond—well, the Count of Athlone,
if you prefer it. We Frenchmen find your northern
names hard to pronounce, monsieur, so you will
excuse my saying Desmond so often."

Carroll removed his hat with a grandiloquent bow.

“If it's clearly understood, monsieur, that the-
title to the earldom of Athlone and the baronetcy of
Bully Carroll are reco ized and respected by you.
we' not quarrel abou the difficulty of names.‘

“My dear sir," said the baron, with uni court-
esgk ‘ Ishould not for an instant think 0 disputing,
ei er. '

‘f Then let it remain plai‘ Desmond and Carroll,"
said the Irishman, w th a lofty air. “After all we
don‘t use Enghsh titles in France. And now, mon--
sieur, how may I call ye?“

" Lieuttnant Le Normand, of the 8d uadron, 2d
regiment of Royal ‘. rabiniers," said E ioles, add-
ing, “ the barony (1‘ holes 5 one of in titles, but as
we are comrades, in our. we will rop titles and
be plain Carroll and Le Normand to each other."

In mentioning his titl , which he could not well
help, the baron slurred over the word with great
rapidity. He remembered, the scene in the dark
street of Paris, and the terrible antagonist who had
fo ht him down, and he trembled lest Carroll
mig t recognize his voice and figure. On horseback
there was not so much danger of this asyet. Car-
roll did not seem to notice anything, for he a. ked:

“ Well, monsieur, and to what do we owe the pleas-
ure of this visit l"

“ I have already said, monsieur," re lied 'Etioles,
“ that I have been ordered to report ere, by Man
shal Cormontaigne."

“Are the orders written, have ye them with yet“
asked Carroll, with an air of suspicion.

“ Of course they are, monsieuri”

“ Can I see them?"

“ Monsieur," said Etioles, somewhat haughtily, “ I
am a full lieutenant of some years’ standing in the
King's Household. You are a sub-lieutenant of a
week‘s commission."

“ Faith, ye're wrong there Le Normand. It's only
five days ’ said Carroll, coolly, with a smile of lofty
self-satis action. “ It‘s not a Carroll of Bally Carro l
that needs a dirty little commission to make a
gentleman of him. And what then?“

“ I was about to say, monsieur, that it is not mili-
tary etiquette for an officer to submit his orders to
the inspection of a Junior."

“ True for you, Le Normand."

“ Then you must see, Monsieur Carroll, that your
request is inadmissible. I must re rt to Count
Desmond, who alone ranks me here.‘

“ Faith, that's well spoken."

“ Then allow me to pass.“ _

This was said with a sudden assumption of an air-
of authority. _

“ Ye can t do it, ’ replied Carroll, coolly.

“ And why not?" '

“ Because it's against the orders of Captain Des-
mond, Earl of Ath one.”

“I tell you, monsieur, I bear orders from the“
margin. Are not those enough to override your-
 '8 l‘

“ Possibl ."

“ Then w not allow me to ss?"

“ Because t‘s against my or ers."

“ What the devil," began Etioles, thoroughly ex~
asperated, “ have I to do with your orders?"

“ That’s jist what I was thinkin’, darlin',“ said Car~
roll, Dwith a grin. ,

“ 0 you mean to so. you refuse to obe Marsha
qurFi‘iglitiilaigneI‘slordcil“?! y l

‘ , an on‘t now if he's iven an et.”

“But I tell e, be  8 y’ y

“ Do ye? T at‘s quare.”

Etioles drew back and glared at the cuirassier,pale
with rage. For a moment he felt inclined to use the
force at his command to overpower the other. On.
second thoughts he said, more mildly:

“Monsieur Carroll, may I ask what are your
orders ?"

” Well, since ye ask civilly, I’ll tell ye, though I’d
wish 0 to state first that ye recognize ye have
no rig it to ask."

1“ Wcll, tlier, tell me, only as a favor, if you.

ease." .

"Withathousand leawres. monsieur. 'f orders,
comi throu ,h ting writing of M rmon-
taigne imsel are to allow no men from Tour-
na inside of this post.” ‘

‘ But I bear superior orders, signed by the mar-
slwl.“

“ .donsieur L" Normand," said Carnal] lifting 
hat. “ As a gentleman, I ever dou'bt another
gentleman's word. As a sold er, I wouldn‘t 
my own brother if he came to my feet with a.

, .

“ar‘I'heu, iii short, you wish taconipel mote exhibit.
 1 .Le Normandy“ have

. — M>I~“l-w an" » .

 

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The Irish Captain.

 

r I ‘ xi
wishes with perfect truth. Till I see them you can-
not "

“ ill you allow me then to send in my page under
charge of one of your men to wake the count, and
deliver him the orders?"

“ Well, that's reasonable. Where‘s the page!“

“ Pierre, come hither."

Etioles‘s party had halted a little way behind,while
the colloquy went on. The saucy page rode up and
saluted, while Carroll surveyed him from head to
foot with a scrutinizing glance.

Etiolcs drew a paper from his breast pocket and
handed it to the page.

“ Take this paper, Pierre,“ he said, “ to Count
Desmond. He will send back word to admit us,
which this gentleman denies."

“ Sergeant l'onard," called out Carroll, “ come

hither.“
The one-eyed se ant rode up. He had been
behind, with a picket of five

waiting in the
men.

“ Take this ho to the captain, and re rt back."

LeBorgnc uted, and rode off wi the page,
while Carroll turned to Etioles, sai :

“And now, monsieur, if you t in that I have
treated you with rudeness I shall be very happy
to render you all the s tis action you may desire.
It is the first principle of an Irish gentleman to ren-
dertoevery man I due and I would not for the
world be guilty of the htest discourtesy toward

ou. There’san (legant it of sand which would

ust do for a little brush, and we could get through,
and have the losin' man put away decent and com-
fortable under the sand, or in the pond before the
Inga t back with the answer."
es stared at the other with amazement.

CHAPTER XV,
rrrsnssn’s wmrsa.

“ Win-r should I ht you for?“ he exclaimed.

"Oh, just for a litt e pastime, ye know; a sort of
beneflcent and sanatory application or" 'our wound-
ed honor. Ye have no taste for these ittle la ful
affairs. Well, as ye pl'ase. I thou ht ‘twoufil go a
pleasant divarsion; bu: if ye don‘t li 'e to fight, I ac-
cept your apol vgy.”

‘I believe yOu must realy be mad,“ be an
d‘Etioles, after a plause of blank surprise, w en
Carroll interrupted im:

“I allow no man to call a Carroll, of Bally Car-
roll, out of his name, monsieur,” he said, curling his
mustache. .“ Yo’il apologize for that exprtssion at
once, mousreur.“

“Apologize, to out" echoed Etioles, angrily. His
blood was up at ast, at the overbearing manner of
thelrishman. “ I‘ll see you in—"

“Exactly,“intcrposed Carroll, with the utmost
courtesy of smile. “I see you understand me, and
we are agreed. Shall we fight on horseback, then?"

Etioles had hardly expected such a prompt a -
quiescence to his implied challenge, but he had
gone too far to recede, and he answered haughtily:

;1A1s you please. I think you Irishmen are all
m 9

 

“ Very good, monsieur,” said Carroll, with the
same studied politeness. J‘You will please to r'e-
member that your men must not advance any fur—
;hfar on this mad, while we are having our little at-

a r."

“ It is understood " said Etioles, curtly.

“ Then be please to accompan me, monsieur."

The pugnacious officer turn round and was
about to ride back on the road to the lake, when
alady on horseback, masked in the fashion of the
day, came cantering 11 past the column of cara-
biniers, and interrup the discussion. Carroll was
too thorough an Inshman to be (1 flcient in polite-
ness to a lady.

“ Our affair must wait, monsieur," he whispered,
hastily to the astonished Etioles, as the lady check-
ed her orse beside them.

Then he turned to her with the blandest of smiles.

“ What can I do for ye, mademoiselie?"

" Monsieur,“ she answered, in a low tone, casting
an apprehensive glance at the baron, “I must speak
with‘you alone a moment. Do not refuse, I implore

on.

y “ Mademoiselle, I never refuse a lady."

He turned to Etioles with stern politeness.

“ Monsieur Le Normand will do me the favor to
lead his men back fifty paces, till he answer comes
to monsieur. I depend on monsieur's honor for

s ' ~

Etioles shrugged his shoulders.

“As on please. There is, nevertheless, no rea-
son. I ow that lady, who is my sister."

“Indeed?” said Carroll, with a look of sin lar
meaning. “Then it seems that I have ha the
honor of meeting ou before. I thought that I
knew the face an figs of that page of yours.

en, monsieur, t lady wishes to speakto

me withou at the same time, wishing her rother
to hear. W you retire!"

Carroll eyed the other with a peculiar intensity of
glare, in spite of the smile that he assumed. In-

eed, the very smile bore a strong resemblance to
the expression of a cat’standing over a mouse. It
wba: horribly suggestive of fangs and claws held in
a yance.
«Ettore was nodcorzart-rll‘, but his I; sunk bonfire

e rn raga o e c hman. e
surned away without angst: and led his men
back. as he was requested.

As soon as they were out of earshot. the masked
lady turned to Carroll. 1

"You are his comrade, are you not?" she asked,
tremuiously.

“I am Count Desmond‘s leiutenant, mademoi-

mile."
“ And you love him, you would lay down your life
to save him 7” she went on, with great earnestness.
“ Indeed I would then, mademoiselle.'.’
“ Oh, sir, Ithought I knew your face," she said.
“See, you must know me again.“
She unmasked the features of Therese Le Nor-
mand, and Carroll bent to his saddle-bow.
“ I shall never forgetggu, mademoiselle.“
“ Monsieur, will you me go alone to see Count
Desmond?"
“Iademoiselle, it is against my orders. No one
pass here."
“to "'Im'ilv% 'tletd‘hoto
y you no me go see
E.Wm him?“

 

“ I can not, mademoiselle."

I

9“

trol toward the English lines, while I took a sleep.

"Hon Dim, man Dian!" she moaned, “what shall  hie‘ve men enough now. As it is, I must go with
1!]."

I do then i"

“Tell me, mademoiselle, if ou can trust me."

“ Alas I can trust no one, s r." '

Carro shru his shoulders and was silent.

"I can not ell all—and yet—I must save him—-
monsieur, will you warn the count to kee Etioles
by him at all times, never to let him out of sight,
and on no account to order him away?"

Carroll stared.

‘li Do you mean that for a message, mademoi—
se e?“

“I do. It is a solemn warning. I can not say
more; but I im lore him to heed that warning. Do
not allow the n d‘Etioles to se arate from the
count for one instant, as you value life.“

“ ose life?"

“ The count‘s, Gerald Desmond‘s.“

“M faith, mademoiselle, it's lucky you spoke,"
said rroil, with a gri ' “for in ten minutes
later monsieur le baron would have been food for
the fishes in Doigny Pond had you not come up
when you did to stop the affair.“

Therese turned deadlfvupale.

“ Swear to me on w not harm him,“ she cried,
vehemently. “ on do not know what depends on
his life now. That of every soul here, your own, and
most of all, Gerald‘s."

Carroll puckered up his lips in a silent whistle and
waited for more. _

“ D’Etioles is my brother," continued Therese, ear-
nestly. “ I must not, will not be the means of assist-
ing his crimes, neither will I see him killed. Do you
understand me? Promise me you will not harm
him, or I shall hate vou forever. ‘

Carroll cast a doubtful glance at the distant form
of the baron, who sat on his horse like a statue,
watching him. At the moment he felt that he long-
ed to go after him.

Therese perceived his irresolution, and changed
her tone to one of pleading entreaty, making he
best 11))0ssiblo use of her (1 rk, lustrous eyes.

“ , monsieur," she said, “if you have any it
for an unfortunate lady who is afflicted with a
brother, grant m prayer. You have quarrelcd, and
were about to fig t my brother. Be merciful to me,
and spare his life for my sake. You are so swong
and brave. I have seen you once before beat him
down like a child. "I‘would be no glory to you to
kill him. Spare him, and I will love you for it, in-
deed I will.’

The big Irishman was completely melted. The
tear? stood in his eyes, and he sai ,in broken ac-
cen 5:

“Oh mademoiselle, I’ll die for ye. By the holy
crossl ‘1] let your brother do anything he likes, and
I’ll never lay a tin or on him i“

Therese held ou her hxnd, which he rapturously
kissed.

“You are a gallant gentleman," she said, “and I
love you for that.”

Carroll hardly knew which end he was standing on
for the delight which her words afforded.

“And now, monsieur," she said, hurriedly “re
member what I so. . Warn the count to keep 7Baron
d'Etioles close to m at all hazards. The moment
they are a rt is a moment of danger. Tell him I
say so, an farewell."

hen, before Carroll could realize the full sense of
her words, she Was off down the road like a shot,
galloped t the column of horse without deigning
a glance t at way, and disa peared.

The echo of her horse oofs had not entime
ceased, when Gerald Desmond, with Le Borgne and
the page, came dashing up fr m the mill.

CHAPTER XVI.
A sOLnrnrt‘s JOB.

Tm: first question asked by the young captain
was:

“Where‘s Baron d‘Etioles?" ~

“ Yonder with his troop,” said Carroll quietly.
“ He‘s a mighty quare way with him, but he didn‘t
pass me, ye know.” .

“ Why Jack,“ said Gerald, smiling with an expres-
sion of slight vexation, “he‘s bro ht orders from
the marshal to re rt to me. He ll be second in
command now, an the reinforcement is very time-
ly. I hope you‘ve not been rude to him."

“ Faith, I hardly know," said the lieutenant, dryly;
“we had some words, and I belave we‘d have come
to cowld steel, av that purty Mademoiselle Therese
hadn't been here tosto us.”

“ Mademoiselle Le ormand here!" exclaimed
Gerald, im atienti . “This is no place fora lady.
She on ht consi er her .ition.‘

Carro looked at his f end, with a very peculiar
ex ression.

‘ D‘ye think so? And sure, she came to see ye.”

“ She on ht not to do it,“ said Gerald in a vexed
tone. “ hat will those rough soldiers say about it?
It’s not—

“ aster“ m 1.. .. “i...
unusu or m' ‘ e y an
Gerald Desmond, and if e e herself in er
innocence, it is for your sake. he came to warn ye
of danger.”

“ f anger?” said Gerald, careleuly. “It is war-

time, and we must t it."
Carroll sighed  I
“Ah, Gerald, ye on’t know the luck e have.

Poor ould Jack, with his ugly face, would ve half a
lifetime for what ye throw away. Let it pass. I‘ll
saaeno more, sincere take it that way."

raid turned th sudden compunction.

“ Dear old follow, I didn’t mean.“ wound you.
Tell me, please, what did she to y i"

“ She told you, whatever you 0 not to let d’Etioles
out of your sight; that your li e and those of all
here d ad on our kee mg then,"

“ We , well, w at of tdo these young
girls know of war?"

“Gerald,” said Carroll solemnly, “I‘ve given ye
the warning, and I'll stake my salvation ont e lad 's
truth. If ye disregard it, my own conscience is qu t.
I‘ve done."

In s lie of himself. Gerald was struck with his

, with a manner of

co ‘8 tone. He felt somewhat irritable having
just been awakened out of a short slee , by the mar-
shal‘s order-a but his mind was its hal-

enoe.
“W well,” he “I will i the it
puts me some tmuh-l‘ad' I blendedo‘tggysendt' hirnwohn s

 

Carroll made no answer, and Gerald rode forward
to t Etioles. '

' Monsieur le Baron," he said, courteousiy, “ I re-
gret you should have been detained so long by my

eutenant, but ( arroll is a strict disciplinarian, and
gilysorders were very explicit to allow no one past
t.7‘

“I is understood," said Etioles, politely. as they
advanced toward Carroll. “ I only regret that Mon-
sieur Carroll should have thought necessary to force
a usrrel on me about the matter."

‘ How, a quarrel?“

“Yes, count, a causeless one. You Irish gentle
men have strange ways with you, it must be allow-

“ How is this, Jack?" said Gerald, sharply, to his
friend. “ Monsieur tells me you have quarreled with
him. Is this right among comrades i“

Carroll blushed scarlet. For a moment he seemed
to be chokin with an r. The next he spoke. with
a strange re of umility and dignity.

“I have a duty to rform to monsieur," he said,
“which you need no make harder, Gerald."

Then turnin to Etioles he removed his hat.

“Monsieur fa baron, l behaved with unnecemry
rudeness to you. The ladmour sister, has
dedrdme of my error. I your pardon or my
wo s.“

Etioles curled his black mustache with an air of

insolence.

“ So," he said, with a sneer, “you have thought
better of it."

Carroll grew white to tie lips, and. his eye gluon.
Then hmuietly said:
it He cur has reason. I have thought better- of

There was a curious air of iron self-control
rent in his face, as the stern cuirassier volun ly
humiliated himself for the second time, before an
adversary he already despised.

Etioles smiled wi h an air of almost Satanic tri-

umlel‘i.

“ ell,” he said, slowly and deliberately, “I ac—
cept your apology, rim you have thought better if it.
Come, count, shall we go?“

,rald gazed with wonder at his friend‘s unusual
behavior. Then he turned away, and rode off with
Etiolgs, in deep thought.

Carroll uttered a deep curse of uncontrollable fury
as he saw them disap r round the corner. Then
he rode away himsel e a madman, till he was out
of sight of his men, in the winding road to Tourna ,
:here he stopped and raised his gauntleted hands

eaven.

“ Now by the holy cross I adore." said the trooger,
in a dee tone of fierce resolve, “ I swoar that, w en
this is over, I‘ll tear that man limb from limb
for that sneer. Oh, lady, lady ye don’t know what
ye‘ve done. Ye‘ve disgraced jack Carroll to a cow-
3 1‘

nd the iron cuirassier burst into a storm of aobs.
alone in the wood. .

CHAPTER XVII.
conqvmn nr snnxr.

Gamma Dnsnonn and the Baron d’Etioles, at the
head of asmall troop of carabineers and dragogzgE
rode slowly away from the wder-mill on the
gide, along the crest of a o , toward the English

orces.

The afternoon was warm and bright and a soft
blue haze hung over every thing, rounding off the
sharper outlines of the prospect, and covering it
With a mantle of azure that beautiiied the most rug-
ged of objects. '

Behind the powder-mill, as we have noticed, the ‘
country fell away to a lower level. The Pond of
Doigny, at first a mere spring, the origin of a little
stream, has been enlarged to its Present dimensions
by an artificial embankment, in t mes long past, and
what had once been a flour-mill had been changed to
it: terrti'ble uses, on account of the lonely nature of

ion.
or several miles the habitations were few and far
between and the glittering lines of distant canals
bordered with wind-mills, announced that the dead
level of the Low Countries had been reached. The
23nd of Doigny was at the edge of the encircling
n e.

“ There are the English," said Etioles, pointing to
a distant field of wh te tents just visible from the
ridge. “ We don’t need to go any further to see
them, count."

Gerald pointed to a belt of forest that interrupted
the view of a portion of the country below.

“ It will be necessary to examine that wood," he
said. “There is no telling how far they may push
their cavah'y."

“Isit worth while to go down there in force?"
asked Etioles, carelessly. “ If you wish, I will take
a few troopers and 0? through in self. You
look haggard and fa , my friend. 0 wonder
afterso ong a loss 0 sleep. Why should you not
leave this task to me as your second in command,
while you sta with the main bod 1"

Gerald hesi ted. The baron‘s ne was very kind
and sympathetic. He seemed to have entirely over-
come his dislike to Gerald, and the latter felt much
better dis toward him. Gerald had been with-
out sleep or éperiod of nearly thirty-six hours, and
the hurried he had snatched while Carroll took
the watch had only lasted half an hour.

“I hardly like to send ou thither, baron," he
said. “ I am not used to lett others go into danger
Indo not share; but I own I am nearly asleep
as . ‘

“Then wh not return!" persisted the baron.
“ Pardon me or saying it. bpt you can be of no ser-

vice to his ma est .
raid, drowsily, “go along,

 

, as

“ Well, we] ,“ {aid
and come back quick. After all, it is only a form.
There are no English near us. I will stay here and
watch for you."

The baron waved his hand in farewell, and calling
a couple of troopers, galloped on down the slo
tow the wood. Gerald remained in his sad e,

watchggg him as he went, and saw him disappear in
the w

afghan. as he'sat there. an  d
as overcame began a
New. Gamma-Who have  he

 

10

loeling of soldiers, who for days and nights have
been on the march without rest, can understand
this drowsiness. It is not a common sleepy feeling,
which can be dissipated by cold water or using and
walking about. It is absolutely unconquerable, and
both horse and rider share it. Moving along in the
plodding column, both will maintain the forward
movement, with drooping head and eyes 0 )enng at
intervals. Sometimes a branc sweeps t e rider‘s
hat off, and he rides on uite unconscious of his loss,
while his horse, left wit out guidance of rein, by a
sort of instinct sways off into a fence-corner, and
for several minutes both sleep soundl , waking with
a start to find strange faces near, as t if) column has
. the sleepers.

In this state of somnambulism was poor Gerald,
for he of all his party had had no sleep. Even his
horse was fresher than himself.

As he sat there, his head fell on his breast, and he
fell forward, waking with a start to find himself half
off his horse, clutching at the mane. For a few
moments he sat bolt upright, staring down at the
wood below, with a confused sense of something
wrong. Then his eyes grew dim and closed, and he
fell back.

This time he did not fall far. Le Borgne, the grim
scarred sergeant, was close behind him, and the
young leader fell on his shoulder, and was fast

asleeg.O
Le rgne m0ved up close to Gerald, and support-
e'd him patiently in his arms.

“Poor young gentlemani" he said, soft] : “ he
is overcome with slee . Why should we not ay hi .1
down here? He will 6 good for nothing till he has
had his rest."

Two of the soldiers dismounted and mashed Ger-
ald in their arms, as if he had been a child. The
exhausted officer did u t even wake for a moment,
as they laid him on a mossy bank at the foot of a
tree. He only turned slightly on his side, and slum-
bered deeper than ever.

There was a singular light in Le Borgne‘s eyes, as
he surveyed the quiet and recumbent figure of his
leader.

“Come away," he said, in a low tone, “lest we
disturb the captain. Those horses make too much
noisn. Let us retire to a little distance, so as not to
wake him."

As Le Borgne was a sergeant, every one yielded
him obedience, and the party withdrew from the im-
mediately vicinity of the tree, moved down the hill
a short distance, and instantly dismounted.

Then they began to speculate on the robabilities
of the baron’s finding any enemies in t 6 wood be-
low. At intervals the could see the white mad
that wound here and t ere among the black pine
trees, an 1 they could trace the course of the baron
and his followers by the cloud of dust that rose over
the tops of the low trees.

“ It‘s very dry weather " remarked one man.
“How long is it since we have had any rain, Jac-
ques? '

“You should know as well as I," retorts the cara-
bineer addressed. “We came here with the count
together. The men in the camp say there has been
a drought for six weeks."

“ I should think so," says the deep voice of Le
Borgne. “Look how the dust hangs in the air.
Why, comrades, I remember a few days ago, when
our regiment went on a reconnoissance, we came
in at sunset and I was sent at midnight to post
pickets on t 9 same road. I Swear to you gentle-
men, the dusl hunt in the air yet, like a c and be-
tween us and the moon. And we have but little dew
in this fir-wood country."

“ How a fire would spread now," remarks one of
the men, as he stamps out a match, wiich he has
dropped after lighting his pipe.

“ t‘s lucky the captain‘s asleep,” said Le Borgne,
significant! . “ He’d put your ipe out for you, com-
rade. Don t you know it‘s ag t the rules, so near
a wder magazine?"

Ah, bah, where is the danger?” says the cara-
bineer lightly. “ We’re at] asta hundred feet from
the m ilgnd there‘s no wind. Besides, we will be
careful stamp out any fire." .

Le Borgno makes no answer. He is watching the

 

 

wood.
“ Tell me," he says presently, pointing, “ you who
have good eyes, is not that dust moving?"

Instantly so . era] men are on their feet watching.
The white line over the tree- 0 s, that marks the

rogress of Etioles, is match by another, more
distant, but much larger, that is swiftly coming to
meet the first.

“ An English scouting-party," says one. “ Now if
the captain were awake we might o to meet the
rosbifs, and give them a welcome to rance.“

“The count ought to be waked," said another.
“ I never saw an officer as cod and brave as be.
We learned to adore him on t e march to Toumay."

Le - orgne sneers.

“He's young yet, comrades. I fought at Mal-
Wuet before he was born. Why not go down and

p the baron, without troubling the captain? Af-
ter all we can beat those English before he wakes."

“He would never forgive us, sergeant," says a
corabineor.

“Bah,” sa 3 Le Bor or “you carabinecrs on
not much, a ter all. e of .P cardy never trouble
our omcers in little matters of this sort. .What harm
is it? Besides, the boron is one of your regiment,
and he’s running into danger. It's our duty to help
him. You may stay if you like. I‘m going down to

ht the English."

, goes to his horse, and unties him from the
tree, while he pre to mount. There was a
movement amon t o cambineers.

r all,” d one, “ we can get back beforohc
wakes. I’m on with the sergeant. The honor of
the regiment is at stake.” _

This decided the point.

one and then the other mounted his horse,
and went off after the one-eyed sergeant, who was
walking his horse down the hill with great delibera-
tion. t last there was but a single man loft, who

mu ediofilédtoiabangontlli’is'oommand gar. mm

o w m en u an own, w

the wood. He 3w two cauds of dust growih‘:

nearer together, and marked the meant: part

dmloy as skirmish and enter the wood on each

323%." hfnimgh “‘twill be mad
. a up

“its”

 

 Irish Gawain.

 ;. . .. :, ,.'. . ’« I. _ .d- manna-3w «vxvvu-ev.-y..>q1-.. _..

 

 

Parbleu, there they begin, cric, crac.’ Ventre Saint
Gris! I can stand it no longer.

He climbed on his horse and tore away full speed,
just as he heard the deep, hollow echoes of distant
shots, redoubled by the repeating effect of the over-
archin woods.

Gera d Desmond lay still overcome with heavy
slumbcrs, deserted by all his followers, within two
hundred yards of a mill holding many tons of pow-
der, with the enemy approaching.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE WOMAN on GUARD.

WHEN Therese Le Normand assed the column of
carabineers headed by her brot er, she did not deign
a glance in their direction. Circumstances had so
much estranged her from her brother, this oor
voung girl in the midst of a corrupt court,l ea
lily blooming among a heap of garbage that she
rarely spoke to him. Moreover her head was full
of a plan which required her undivided attention.

She centered along the road toward the chateau

for about a mile, then reined in her horse and sat
considering in deep thought. She was alone in the
wood.
Presently she drew from her bosom a letter which
she read over with deep attention. It was written
in a delicate, clerkly hand, with man feminine
peculiarities, but still there were certan turns of
expression in the letter which denoted the writer to
be a man. It ran as follows:

" MY DEAR PUPIL— Our young protege, the
Count of Desmond, is in great danger, and I write
to thee to warn him against it. It seems that his
majesty has recently been pleased to pardon a cer.
tain robber and murderer, named J ean Bonard, sur-
named Le Borgne, with several of his comrades,
who were already in the galleys, on very curious
conditions, namely-that they should be sent to
the frontier on secret service of a des crate nature.
Thou knowest how his majesty has be aved of late,
and how thou and I have often quarreled as to the
advisability of a certain measure. Thou knowest
that thine old preceptor adores virtue in the ab-
stract, while circumstances have prevented his fol-
lowing it in the concrete. The Jesuits—whom I
hate, in passing—hold that the end justifies the
means, and if madame is willing to make a certain
sacrifice for the good of humanity, it is her affair.
Still, this must. not interfere with our little Irish—
man. I have a money interest in him now which I
cannot afford to lose. I have found out that the
secret service these men are on will put them un-
der our friend‘s command, and likewise that Mon-
sieur le Baron has applied for leave to go with
them. Further, I found that the ardon for these
men passed through the hands of onsieur 1e Baron
himself. In fine, I am penetrated with apprehen-
sion that my ten thousand francs will go to the
devil if I don t take measures to revent it.

“ Being on the spot I leave t to thy woman’s
wit to find out what the real meaning of all this is.
In fine, I only see one means of safet for my invest-
ment. Let im kee close to Etio es, and do thou
watch both. He wii not dare to harm him when
thou art near, for at present the cards are not dealt
for the grand stake. Antoinette has sworn to me
that if Desmond dies, she will never perform her
part. Well, it causes me laughter to see what fools
women will be for love. Thou art worse than she.
Still, as a philosopher, I study you both. Keep coun-
sel and watch.

“Thine philosophically, Aaoun'r m: V.”

“ Strange mixture," muttered the girl, absently
crumbling the letter. “It was well I bethought me
to enlist our avarice for his rotection. How hard
is it that , the on] one who oves him for himself,
should be glint on from his heart because aha saw
him first."

She folded away the letter and at it in her breast.

“ Let me see," she soliloqulz , “to-marrow the
king will reach Douay, and they must do all their
mischief before his arrival. To-da is the day of
danger. Will he obey my warn ng? It is not
enough. I must see him myself. I will!”

She set her white teeth together with an expres-
sion of fixed resolve, and turned her horse into the

wood.

“After all,” she murmured, “there are many
roads to Rome. If they will not let me pass the
pickets, I must all through the wood."

A few minutes ater she was in the midst of the
low-spreading fliptrees, riding steadily on away from
the road, in a wide circuit. ,

Thaground was covered with a soft carpet of fir-
spines, into which the feet of her light Arab mare
tank with but little noise, and the dark branches of
the firs and spruces bent aside to give her passage.
In a wood of evergreen where the trees decrease u
ward to a point, the v ew below is always limi
and Therese rode quietly along, not seeing any thing
herself and unseen by others.

Every now and then she paused and listened for
voices, but the wood was silent and she heard noth-
ing. Then she rode boidl on, guessing her direc-
tion from the sun, till she t ought she must be oppo-
site to the camp. -'

At last she turned her horse, and rode straight to-
ward thc lake or ad. She soon found that she
was right, for the s neigh of a horse greeted her
from ahead. Instan y her own more I: to
neigh in answer, and Therese trembled wi fear
lest she should be discovered. Instinctivoly she
leaned over to grasp the nostrils of her mount, but
the more refused to be silent, and neished louder
than ever, rushing forward through the bushes to-
ward the other horse. ‘

As a last resort, the girl pulled her up with all he
strength. and rode away in the opposite direction, as
fast as whip and spur could urge be pampered ani-

mal.
Several other horses took up the nekhlwd it
113:: not till fully; minute of rapid galloping she
o .

Then she turned her horse once more, and rode on
again toward the place where she fancied she would
find traces '0! Gerald. The roximity of the cam
frightened her immeasura , when she reflected
an her sex and youth, and er unprotected pool-

on. . ~

The further she advanced, the more condom
bums. until at last the light him through the

 

 

 

trees, and she perceived that she was coming to the
open country.

Soon after she emerged on the side of the rid e of
Dmgny, and saw before her the forests and lowfitnds
of Flanders, while far to her right the little rillof
Doigny fell down the side of the SIG '. ‘

Before her, in the forest, she (Eganguished the
clouds of dust that told of the approach of the rival
scouting parties, and just as she reached the ridge
she heard the faint, distant reports of fire-arms, sharp
and frequent.

Then suddenly a horseman dashed down the hill at
full speed by the side of the little rill of Doigny, and
galloped into the forest, where the dust rose furious
y now, and where the report of fire-arms became
quite frequent, and nearer momentarily.

Therese listened attentively. Young as she was
and unused t0.these sounds it needed no one to in.
terpret their significance. fighting was going on in
the forest and the scatterin shots grew nearer an
nearer. The French must e getting the worst 0
it, evnlently, and running away, from the rapid
manner in which a trail of dust rose over the tree
gopmcomlng nearer and nearer the edge of the’

ores .

And then of a sudden came a rattling volley,
accompanied by a shout, and the dust rose up in a
cloud and hung stationary, while the shots rattled
iuces antly.

Again the girl understood all. It was a check from-
some unknown party.e Therese sat on her horse and
watched the dust low. White smoke began to
mingle with it now. She wrung her hands in agon .
What was going on, and who was there? She can
not tell. All she knew was that she was powerless
to help the man she loved, and that some fearful
danger im pended over him.

Hardly knowing what she did. she advanced slow-
lv along the edge of be rid e, in the vague hope
that from some point she mig t gain a nearer view,
pei‘hapS even see the figures of some of the combat‘
an 3.

On and on she went, step by step, till she had.
passed the little rill, her eyes still riveted on the'
contest below. Then on a sudden the deep neigh of
a horse close by startled her.

She looked around and beheld a powerful dapple-
gray horse who seemed to be regarding her with
eyes of fire, as he strug led at the halter-chain
which confined him to a ree, and nei bed in thun-
der tones. The horse was caparison in the hous-
ings of an officer, and a little way off, la a cavalier,
with breast-plate and laced coat all the ne uniform
of captain o carabineers, while he was fast asleep.

Therese uttered a cry of joy.

“ Gerald i"

It was indeed Gerald, safe out of all battles, and
asleep.

 

CHAPTER XIX. n
A srAaero msoovsar.

LIEUTENANT JOHN CAnaoLL rode slowly back to
his picket-guard, and soon after, leaving it in charge
of one of t e corporals of carabmeers who had been
left by the baron, the Irish cuirassier took his way
slowly and thoughtfully back along the shore of the
pond toward the powder-mill.

Carroll, like Therese, had been revolving a plan in,
his mind since his suspicions had been aroused.

The 1 ,y’s warni x ot tolet Etioles separate from
I1])iesmtlifnd was ev r aging in'hls ears, and he said to

mac : .

“ Maybe I’m right and maybe I‘m not, but I’m
thinkin’ that an ndependent patrol by 0. Carroll of
Bally Carroll would be mighty convament, just now,
to make things sure."

He soon arrived at the camp which he found 31-»
most empty.

The hangdog-lookin sentry one of Le Bo e's.
pleasant comrades to d him. in answer to h in-
quiry, that the captain had taken all the new men
put on patrol toward Brussels, leaving the old men

n cam .

“ And) where are the old men as ye call them i"

“ Over yonder in the woods, lieutenant, asleep."
Carroll ooked in the direction indicated, an sure
enough there were eight or ten men, apparentk

aslee .

“ Ixthoug-ht Gerald would be sorry for letting the
drunken brute off so eas ," said the Irishman, sul-
piciou . “I’ll 20 ball t e ’re drunk again, though
where a fit the stuff he 3 me.”

It shoul remarked that Desmond, considering
his small force End the risk heraninre a.
£811 68 9119011813. had dealt leniently with e

runkards of the night before, returning them to
duty on abject promises of cod behavior.

From their as ect Carroll8 strongly suspected that.
they had 0'9 Funk once more. Accordingly, he
rode over them, and drawing his long rapier,
commenced poking them up with the sharp point.

He was sat sfied from the surly glances and mat
tered oaths, as well as from the staggering way in
Wthh they walked, that he was correct. Then he
blazed out in a torrent of indignation, and asked
them What they meant b daringto repeatan offense
for‘ which they had once been forgiven.

Ah, well, lieutenant," said one fallow, drunk
enough to be insolent, ‘ we don't belong to your
re 1great, apyway,"

o, no,’ chorused the rest, encoura thh.
“ we‘re French soldiers, and want no nfidngye."

Then, b the holy cross, I‘ll make yo wish yo’d

pot met an rishman this day,” said Carroll, grimly.
‘ Come out here every man of ye!”

A laugh of erision greeted him, which woo
cha ed to curses and cries of fear, as the cuirusict
rode ously at them, slashing rightand loft with
his lo blade. ~,

“Ha e mutinous devils!" he shouted, at every
'g‘tur‘oket,h ‘tye goflt 1obey an Irishman. won‘t yo!

e a , an t ’

In two minutes he had driven them from the wood
into camp, for they had been lying around totally
pharmfl oil, hogginoreggter, the sword of a man in au-

0 t s to re .

Cowyed, but sullen, the men of Picardy at last fall
in as he ordered them. Bnt to all his lguestlono u.
to where thcyngot their liquor, he con get no u.
swor andat tonoof thomon blurtodout:

“ It's no use, heutonantwou and the captain won't.
know till it‘s too late. e‘n pddfor what we?"

doing better on orhim."
masgwmunp-mmu

 

 

.. 4....

gigs-v 1

 
 

N. m...,¢._.. . 4

,,.-~. _.. - .:-..7:.

P
sent the whole of the column whirling up the

 

that, but he, who was the drunkest of the party, per-

“ I don‘t care a curse who knows it. I didn‘t pull
an oarfor nothing, lieutenant. We're to blow~——”

And then, to Carroll‘s surprise, all his comrades
fell upon him, knocked him down, and struck and
kicked him into instant insensibility with their heavy
boots, regardless of his presence.

This done, they fell into ranks again with more
vdocility than before and the ringleader of the first
mutiny touched his hat with sudden respect.

“ Don‘t mind him, lieutenant," he said, “ he‘s
drunk, and a fool besides. We’re sober now, sir.”

Carroll looked at the steady line with amaze-
ment. They hardly seemed like the same soldiers.

“ Each man go and et his horse ready," he order—
ed. “I‘ll give you fe ows something to do to keep

on from getting drunk. Where's Sergeant Pichot,

hat was drunk last night?"

“ Here lieutenant.“

“ Get the men and horses ready. Be under arms
and standing to horse, facing the pond, when I come
back. Do you understand?

“ Yes lieutenant."

Carro 1 turned his horse and rode slowly toward
the powder-mill. It was his intention to test their
behavior by a pretended absence, and to come back
and lead them off on some troublesome service.

When he reached the front of the mill, ho er,
he felt something which seemed to beckon him or-
ward to examine the vicinity.

“ After all,“ muttered he, “ these drunken divils
have been here, ever since the patrol went away,
and there‘s no tellin‘ what mischief they niayn‘t be
mu to. I‘ll take a circuit.”

0 slowly rode all around the mill.

He had not done this yet.

In front Carroll found nothing but the open es lan-
fde and the two store-tents. The door of one of t ese,

eft half Open, suggested the place whence the
.mutineers had procured their superfluous coura e.

“By Saint Patrick!” muttered Carroll, “it‘s ear
the he didn’t spoil all the punch, more power to
him. liat‘s on this side i" '

On the right was the mill-race, and he. could see
the great water~wheel, with its dripping buckets, at
the extreme rear. .

He rode round to the left side to take observations,
and found that the wood extended nearly up to the
wall of the shed. The ground was as dry as tinder and
“thickly carpeted with the dry spines of the fir-trees.
He rode along to the rear and hen suddenly pulled
:up with a startled exclamation.

“ Mother 0‘ God, I see it all! Oh, heavenly Father,
what blackguards! We're in a trap, so we are.“

The cause of his alarm  very simple, and suf-
ficiently awful to a soldier. '

A large hole had been cut in the side of the build-
ing, a hea of black powder half filled it, and a
broad, blac train of powder led away from the
walls into the woods to the left. Where it ended
'he could not see, but one thing was plain.

A man at tlw other end of that train might blow them
all into the air with a spark.

Carroll trembled from head to foot, and the sweat
ured down his face. And as he gazed, spell-
ind, he heard the rattle of musketry in the open

country beyond.

 

CHAPTER XX.
was man DIED.

Down in the forest of Doigny, around the Brus
sols road, a smart skirmish was taking lace.

Etioles, with acouple of troopers, ga loping reck-
lessly along, had come on a whole uadron of
Austrian cuirassiers with a troop of nghsh dra-
goons in support. e had seen nothing, till a turn
of the road brought him plum on their advance, a

arty of ten cuirassiers, with b ack breastplates, and
grass helmets with bear-skin crests.

As we have said, Etiole’s was no coward, and in
this instance he did just what he ought to have
done.

In a moment his pistol was leveled, and he and
his tr00)ers fired at the cnirassiers, tumbling one
out of his saddle. Then wheeling about, they turned
back, and galloped for dear life.

The suddenness and promptness of their attack
disconcertth the enemy, and its audacity made them
sus Scions that a force was behind the French pa-
tro . Thus, when Etioles and his followers turned
'the corner and disappeared, they gained fully a
minute before the allied column resumed its march.
A minute, to a allopin horse, means a quarter of
a mile, and the cnch ad left at least that gap be-
hind them when the enemy discovered the rick,
and opened a harmless fire as they galloped in pur-

Suit.

Dciwn the dusty road thundered French and
Austrians, the relative distance gradually lessening,
for the Austrians were splendidly mounted. Etioles
knowing that he was retreating on his friends, di
not urge his horse, as he might have done, and thus
it happened that the uilraasiers were only three
hundred yards behind at the e of the forest.

It was then that Le horgne an his men, whb had
been hidden in the wood idi their time, ured a
close and deadly volley into e advance 0 the en-
emy, that threw them into instant confusion, while
the sergeant, roflting by the shock, and charging

road
in a sudden panic.

These reverses of fortune are frequent in cavalry
affairs and do not always imply a want of courage
on either side. As soon as he allies found that
there was no serious pursuit, they threw out a long
line of skirmishers, and pushed boldly thmlfih the
woods, firing their pistols, while the Engli dra-

ns made the echoes ring with their carb ne-shots.
' Etioles pulled up, as soon as the flrst volley sound-
ediand warmly raised his men, in the momentary
that follow .
lulThen he rode up to In Borgne, and said something
to him in a low tone.
“Fast asleep under a trio?l by the mill," answered
one-e ed se at, y.
“I: 00011,); said e baron, with a diabolical smile of
 “It is time to do your part, then. The
 will be, when you see them round the mill."
‘It is understood, said Lo Borgne, in a low tone,
butturningverypaie. "It is not our fault if heis
. M

u A 'n  mo
a “W's. speaking

hisownfaoeu

uchhia ad

I’ . l

 

The, Iris‘thaptain.



 

teeth. “ Give . us enough time, remember. Here
the come. I will manage the rest.“

T e serge/wit touched his hat, wheeled his horse,
and gallopcd ofl’, as if he were striving to win a race.

He took a direction for to the left of the powder-
llllli, and as he went he loaded his istol.

Just then the enemy o ened a 'opping fire, and
be an to advance slow y t irongh the wood, cautious
ly eelingtheir way, dreading surprises. The French,
scattered at very wide intervals, so as to interpose a
long line, returned the fire.

In reconnoitering expeditions of this kind, the
amount of force on either side is generally unknown,
and the element of mystery largely adds to the ex—
citement. The allies, fancyin a regiment in front
of them, were daunied and etained b ' the fire of
twent men. For fully a. quarter of an our Etioles
held t 18m in check; and then just as the su rior
weight of the enemy‘s fire was beginning to te l, and
the carabineers were retreating to the edge of the
wood, a sudden rattling volley on the left of the enemy
sur i-ised friend and toe alike.

T en Etioles heard a loud, rin ing 'ell, followed
by the crashin of dry sticks; an Jac ' Carroll, fol-
lowed by the esperate i'nflians of the dragoons of
l‘icardy, came swooping down the allied line, rolling
them up in conquion, and sending them reeling
back a second time.

But Carroll's reinforcement was too small to be
of much avail. The enraged cuirassiers, at length
perceiving its insignificance, and burning for re—
venge, came down again, fiercer than before.

Then it was that Etioles, with a sudden change of
demeanor, abandoned the fight.

“ Sauce qui pent!" "‘ he shouted, at the top of his
voice, turning his horse. “Save yourselves. Fol-
low me!” i

The craven cry from a commanding officer will
determine the issue in man a fight. In this in-
stance its effect was imme late. Without an ex-
ception, the carabineers turned and fled, an! the
in an dragoons followed, with singular unanimity.

Carroll, who was even then flushed with his tri-
lllil )h and shouting out encouragement to his men,
win e he fired his p stol at the enem , was warned,
by the sudden silence in his rear, that something
had happened. He looked round and found him-
self alone in the wood, with the Austrians and Eng-
lish trotting forward and firin at him. The bullets
whistled round him, and he fe t that he was a mark
for a hundred enemies, while his comrades had de-
serted him!

He had brought down his reinforcement from
camp, exgectin to find his friend Gerald in dan-
ger, and e ha seen not a glimpse of the young
captain. Even in the lmmincnce of his presen
danger, a deep conviction of treache came over
him. He remembered the train, whic he had no
time to trace, the powder-mill, Etioles‘s sudden flight,
and the stout cuirassier roaned aloud in his ony.

“Gerald, my boy, my 0y, ye’re doomed. t’s a
cursed trick.‘

Then, as a sudden thought struck him, he shouted

out.

“ No, by the holy cross, he shall not die."

The enemy came closer, the bullets rattled about
him, one cut his sleevebgnother passed through his

hat; still he seemed to heedless of danger.

A big cuirassier rode at him with drawn sword,
shouting:

“ Surrender!"

The next moment Carroll fired his remaining
pistol in the man‘s face, turned his horse, and tore
away in the direction taken by Le Borgne, followed
by a rain of bullets. ,

“ There‘s a man to fire the train,“ was the thought
that flashed through his mind. “If I can cut him
off Gerald may be saved.”

he wood was safely passed, and he tore his
horse's sides with his 6 urs, as he strained up the as-
cent to the ridge of DOigny.

“ Mother of God! I‘m right!" muttered the cuiras-
sier, as he leaned over his saddle-bow at full speed.
“There’s the track."

Sure enon h, in the sandy soil before him, were
the tracks 0 a home at full speed, fresh and recent.

Carroll followed them like a sleuth—hound. He
heard the shots and shouts dying away behind him.
Then came a volley and a shout J ram the left, and he
looked hurriedly up.

There, on the edge of the ridge, close to the
powder-mill, the French horsemen were clustered,
firing at the English and cheering deflantly.

He looked bac , and but a single soldier was fol-
lowing him. The rest were coming out of the woods
in a c ose mob, charging up—liill at the French. He
heard abngle-notc out e ridge, and in a moment
ever horseman had vanished, while their shouts
coul be heard dyin away in the distance.

The English and ustrians pressed on with louder
shouts than ever.

“ God have merc on your souls," said Carroll,
hurriedly, as he gal oped on. He had taken in the
whole scene at a glance.

A moment later he had reached the wood, and
caught sight of what he had been e t .

Le Borgne, erect on his horse, wit a car ine held
like a istol, pointing downward, in his ' ht hand,
sat stl as a statue, near the ed 9 of the ri e, from
whence he could command a ll view of the
by the wder-m A and the crowd of enemies.

“ Ho d!" shouted Carroll wildl , as be rushed at
the sergeant. “ Where is cunt and 7"

Le Borgne started and turned round at the voice.

The start gave Carroll time to reach him, and he
demanded:

“ What are you doing here?"

“Waitin to fire the train‘," said. the sergeant
gri . “ the English dogs all round the mill. “

He eaned over and inted the muzzle of the car-
Bine info a broad, shadow heap of black powder as

e s e.

“ ut tell me, in God’s name," cried the Irish of-
flcerarselzing his shoulder, “where is Count Dea-
mon '

Le Borgne, with a sudden effort, flinched awafi
from the other’s grasp. Then he looked at Carro
with the expression of a demon.

“ Asleep by the mill,“ he said, and he laughed!

*“Sauvc qui pout!" literally, Save himself who
can. “Every man for himself," is the
gambit in times of desperate peril, when m

caabe done.

 

 

There was a sudden report, and a bright, broad
flash, up from the ound. Both horses scorched
and terrified rea wildly and sprung ackward.
The bright flash ran on through the woods with
amazing velocity, like a broad ribbon of flame. Car-
roll, as his horse came over backward, can ht a
glimpse of the black mill, with a crowd of so diers
round it. Then the animal fell back on him, crush-
inv him, and a broad white sheet of flame shot up,
filling the whole atmosphere with fire; trees were
torn up and sent sailing through the sky, and the
air was full of black fragments, shooting outwar ,
from a common center.

A fearful crash as if heaven and earth were. rent
asunder, followed close on the flash, and Carroll fell
back, stunned and senseless.

The powder-mill had blown up.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
1.00me ova-n ran nun.

ON the same afternoon when these events occurred,
a numerous train of horsemen was a proachi the
Chateau Dillon from Tourna . At tge head 0 this
train were two officers, bot old, both wearing the
uniform of marshals, but of ve different appear-
ance. There was no mistaking 1 e erect. figure and
keen, hawklike profile of old Cormontaigne, as alert
and active at Sixty as a man of thirty sitting in his
saddle as if he had grown there. lis companion
was of a very different appearance, and worth more
than assing notice. . .

Ha he been standing erect he would have meas-
ured several inches above six feet and his frame was
cast with the bones of a giant. This colossal frame
was, however, distinguished and marred by gent
co ulency, and was at present half-sitting, alf-
rec 'ning, on the soft cushions of an open litter,
hun between long, sprin poles, and carried by
two orses, each led by a ragoon.

The face of Marshal Saxe, for it was he, was
marked with the deep lines of suffering and his
cheeks hung in flabby folds on either side of the
square jaw and resolute mouth of him who had once
been noted as the handsomest soldier in Europe.
Maurice of Saxe, at the head of the armies of
France, and on the eve of the greatest achievement
of his life, was a dropsical invalid, unable to mount

a horse since leaving Paris, and who had been “tap- .

ped,” in s cal hrase, only three dalys before.

Yet, in spite 0 his suffering and b oated frame,
there were still traces in his lion~like face of the
beauty about which empresses and gueens had quar-
reled, twenty years before, and or which poor
Adrienne‘ Lecouvreur had wrecked all her hap
ness. The profile was as perfect as ever, and t o
fierce blue e e shone with all its old luster, in spite
of the mist t at crossed it at intervals, when spasms
of suffering caused the firm lips to close like a vice
over the clenched teeth.

At present he was conversing ea erly with Cor-
montaigne, and had forgotten his 511 erm

“ You say that the youth is the same w 0 was re-
cently promoted?"

“ I say nothing of my own knowledge. The name
is the same. He was sent to report to me, with a
squadron of carabineers, and the orders tame the
day previous, to send him to that post, with t ose
wretches."

“Strange,” muttered Saxe. “ What can the young
man have done to merit the king's anger, when he
has just promoted him f”

Cormontaigne shrugged his shoulders.

“What would on have? His majesty takes
strange fancies. esides, there is a certain person
here who seems to take wonderful interest in hh
fate since the order came",

“ Who is that?"

“ Le Normand d’Etioles."

f A strong expression of disgust crossed Saxe's
ace

“ Tate dc cochnn!“ he muttered. “That sharper.
who goes about trying to force cards on the man
that will not play.”

“Softly, my friend, softly! The game is not over
'et. There are too many interested in its success.

be king is expected here to-morrow, and the court
comes with him.” '

“I know it. I wish they would stay at Paris, till
we settle the business with these English."

“They will not. His majesty is emulous of
the example of his ancestoxs Henry IV. and Louis
XI He wishes to be ca ed Louis the Great.
Well, the smiles of beaut ' are the fitting rewards of
valor. His majesty n s a Helen to his Paris. You
will see he will get one."

“ Let him," said Saxe. impatiently. “ What has
all this to do with Count Desmond?”

“That is a mystery. Etioles displays a wfigrml
{Storest in him, and yet, my faith, ‘d swear ates

m.39 ‘

“ Where is Etioles now?” demanded the marshal,
suddenly.

“ At t e mill, with Desmond. After I had sent the
young fellow oiI accordin to orders in conscience
troubled me. i’arblen, onsieur le he:i I
could not find it in my heart to leave him there, th
fifteen pardoned galleyvslaves, in face of an enemy
who nught try the effect of a hot shot, just for sport~
on the rotten shed. I sent Etioles to him, With a
force sumcient to furnish tremolo, and to keep him
informed of the vicinity of e enemy."

“ What said Etiolea to that?"

“ Parbleu, he jumped at the offer."

“ And you sent Mm to help Desmond?"

“Certainly. What of it?"

“Sim ly this. If you wished to kill him, you have
takeHn t e right course.”

lt ow?il

\

Cormontaigne looked disturbed and anxious. 'I'he\

old soldier was as simple as a child,th

‘ Adrienne Lecouvreur, the atest tragic aotrmo
of her day, and a most beauti ul 'oman. The story
of her hapless love and self-sacrifice for the then
brilliant and successful soldier, Maurice of Sue, foo
whose advancement she gave up all that a woman
holds dear, is one of the most mournful pages of the
history of the age of Louis XV. It has been -
ed in the tragedy of “ Adrienne Lecouvreur. h
which, in our Own days, Rachel and Ristori have won
some of their greatest triumphs. Matilda Helm
andothorshave e-ayed the aametnak lathe, *0
lab herniation “ Adrienne the m"

 

ailhkx

 

12

The Irish Captain.

 

genius as an engineer. Saxe was a veteran courtier,
as well as a General.
“ You say ou think Etioles is Desmond's enem l“
“I say not ng. I am not certain. He seem to
be. The "saluted as if they disliked each other.

“ My infant," said Saxe, with a grim smile, check-
ed by a spasm of pain, “I know thee by heart.
And know more. Etioles is Desmond‘s enemy,
because he believes Desmond—“

Boui l i l l l l l

The marshal started up’on his cushions and every
man in the escort jumped half out of his saddle at
the tremendous sound, like a clap of thunder burst-
ing over their heads. The ground trembled and
rocked as if under an earthquake, the horses shook
and snorted with terror and every one turned pale,
as that awful crash told in a moment the fate of the
powder-mill.

A huge white column of smoke rose in the air
over the trees, at a distance of less than a mile, for
they had passed Ithe Chateau Dillon during their
finversation, and were approaching the pond of

lmlfi
In the midst of the white cloud were numerous
blaek objects, shooting through the air in diverging
circles, and even as the looked, great beams, s )ars,
trunks of trees, broken ranches, and other ob ects,
came sailing overhead, and crashing down through
the trees into the road all round them.

“ Ah, ban Dim .’ what is that?" cried Cormon c,
with a groan of unutterable horror, as soinet ing
crashed ( own in the sand road with a heavy thud.’
and splashed red blood a round it.

C‘rash .’ crash .’ crack .’ (had!

The horrible shower continued for several seconds,
to he succeeded by a stillness, the more awful be-
cause of the previous peal and crash.

Then the awe-stricken soldiers, with white faces
and compressed lip, looked at the dreadful ruins
around them.

Beams and branches were not all that had fallen.
The most fearful sight of all was seen in the black-
ened and bloody fragments of the carcasses of men
and horses, blown to a distance of nearly a mile by
that tremendous explosion.

For a while no one spoke. Cormontaigne trembled
all over.

Maurice of Saxe was the first to regain his com-

ure.
9‘Elfove on, Monsieur le Marechal," he said, grave~
“If we are too late to prevent a catastrophe,
we may at least save some of the victims, if any are
left alive."

Cormontai e silently, as if by mechanical im-
Bulse, raised is hand to his hat in salute, and urged

is horse forward. The trembling beast, slowly, and
with evident a prehension, began to m0ve on, step
3 step, past t e ghastly-looking objects that strew-

the way. As for the marshal, he carefully
averted his eyes from the spectacle, practiced as he
was, for he had a tender heart.

Not soSaxe. Phie atic and cool b nature, and
somewhat selfish wit al though not 0 trusively so,
he leaned over from the litter, and carefully in-
spected the fragments of bodies as he passed.

Suddenly he uttered an exclamation.

“Hein! Cormon ' 0, there is not (1 French bod
here. They are all n the Austrian uniform, an
there‘s a scarlet coat.”

Arrested by the voice of the commander-in-chief,
Cormontaigne looked, and was compelled to admit
that 8 xe was right.

“I see itall " d the senior marshal, with rapid
intuition. “ esmond has stationed a man at the
end of the train, about which you spoke to me; he
has enticed the enemy round the mill, and blowfl'
them up.”

“But should we not have heard firing)“ objected
the other.

“ No, for whatever firing they did must have been
behind the ridge, and lost in the forest toward Brus-
sels. The English are advancing. In a few days
they will r ach our lines. Then they are ours."

It was curious to note how the details of it terrible
tragedy became, to the mental vision of the ambi-
tious Saxe, only the incidents of a great plan. S ecu-
Iating on the English advance, he seemed to orget
all about the slaughter that had just occurred.

The cavalcade moved on, and presently turned the
corner of the road, and came in sight of the pond of

ign .
As they did so, a small troop of horsemen, black as,

negroes came slowly forward to meet them at the
edge of the pond. From the rider‘s head to the
horse’s foot, every man was as black as ink, save for
red streaks here and there, that told of recent
wounds. The horses were clean shorn of tail and
mane sorry spectacles, staggering as if drunk.

“ ho, in God‘s name, are you?” hastily exclaim-
ed Cormontai e, as he gaze at the figure of him
who seemed t ie leader.

“The Baron d‘Etioles," answered the other, in a
husk voice “with all that is left of the garrison.
We d not ee far enough when Le Borgne fired the
t‘raain, and several were iurt by the wrecks and the

Marshal Saxe inte sed, with the stern question:
“ Where is Count esmond ?"

The baron pointed across the pond.

“ The pieces are near Brussels, 1 think,” he said.

CHAPTER XXII.
rm: sums.

JACK Cannon. came to his senses, to find the red
flare of sunset shining athwart thin clouds of smoke,

at streamed up from the ground all round him,
while a scorch pain in his neck caused him to
writhe upon his e bow with a man.

He was lyin upon a bed 0 white ashes, above a
scorched and lackened ground, and all round him
a low, red 1m: of fiame was creeping outward in a
circle, for th dry grass was on fire, and the air was
suffocating with smoke. Bewildcred and stupid,
the cuiraasier tried to rise, and found that his leg
was caught in something which lay on it, heavy
and inert. lixertin all his stren thin ades rate
dort,he wrench it out from neath w at he
recognized as the carcass oi his horse, and staggered
to his feet blinded and suffocated.

Ilsthick coat and boots the bud gauntlets and
heavy uniform wig which e wore, had saved him

‘te-aarimuburnaand athickpoolof bloodthat

 

 

lay by the horse, had still further checked the fee-
ble fire in the scanty wood-grass; but all this he did
not recognize.

Only he remembered a terrible explosion, and
woke to find himself in the midst of flames, chok ng
and burning to death.

Halfcrazed, and frantic w th u ovemabie ter-
ror, lie stag ered and ran forw he knew not
where, and y good-fortune, took t e way to the
o n field, and found himself on the cool sandy

dge. where there was no grass to feed t 0 fire.
Moreover, a cool breeze was coml over the open
country, doubtless drawn by the suct on of the great
explos on and fire. The poor cuirassier opened his
garched and burning ll , and breathed in dee

raughts of that pure, elicious air, which he ha
never till then learned to value rightly.

Then he sunk down on the cool sand, and endea-
vored to collect his thoughts. At first, he could
hardly tell where he was, or how he came there;
but gradually, as the cool air revived his faintin
frame, he recalled the circumstances that preced
the explosion, and wondered how he had esca .
Also he remembered the diabolical lau h with w ich
Le Borgne had said as he fired the tr n:

“ Asleep by «he mil !"

Where was Le Borgne? Where was Gerald?

As he ruminated, Carroll‘s eyes grew dark and
ominous. He slowly rose to his feet and stretched
his limbs, one after another, feelin every part, to
find if he was seriously injured. he examination
convinced him that he was quite sound still. Then
he. smiled.

“Gerald Desmond," he said raising his clenched
hand to heaven, “ye may be cad, my ownboy, but
if there‘s a man is t, this side of hell, that did ye the
treason, I swear by the ho] cross I‘ll send him
where he belongs for this day 3 work, if sword and
hand last Jack Carroll.”

He looked to his weapons.

Defiled and soiled with dust and ashes, as they
were. sword and pistol were alike unharmed. Even
the cartridges in is pouch had been saved from the
fire by their thick leathern casing.

Carroll did not know that, from head to foot, he
was as black as soot, with the horrible dust of the
burnt powder. If he noticed any thing, he did not
heed it, so set was he on revenge for Gerald's death.
From the first, he had suspected a lot; what, he
did not know. Now, he had fathom its full atroci-
ty in the words of Le Borgne:

Asleep by the mill!

A , and blown to atoms ere this, doubtless.

“ ever mind," he muttered. “First reven ."

Griml?Y and deliberatel he loaded pisto , and
placed t in his belt. e had it still clutched me-
chanically in his hand, since he fired it at the Aus-
trian cuirassier.

Where was the man who was then following him?

He looked round. Nota soul was to be seen on
an side. All was still.

hen he strode over the low belt of flames, and
entered the wood, seeking for his dead horse.

The fire had burned itself out around the carcass,
and a bed of white and gray ashes took its place.
Now that he was collected and cool, Carroll could
see the cause of his salvation.

His horse in falling back, had sheltered the rider,
and taken the full force of the explosion and frag-
ments, bein com letely disemboweled, with one
leg torn off elow t e knee.

A little way off lay another horse, similarly shat-
tered, but not so badly, and beside it the body of a
man.

The Irish cuirassier uttered a sava e malediction
of disappointed fury as he looked at t e 

“ Thor- mon diooull" he growled, with c enched
teeth, “ the bound is dead, and has escaped me."

It was true.

The body of Le Borgne, with the whole side of the
head beaten in by a heavy beam which lay on the
ground, was stretched (:0 d and (lead, covered with
black dust and crimson stlflns, a fearful object.

Carroll turned away. Even the stout cuirassier
sickened at the sight. His heart softened, and more-
OVer he was too ood a Catholic to retain revenge
against one punis ied in such a manner.

“ God has judged ye, Le Borgne,“ he said. “Ye
fired the train yourse f. Woe be to ye, if ye miscal-
culated the distance.“

Then he left the wood with slow, heavy ste s, and
advanced toward the site of the powder-mi with
deliberate caution.

He knew what he had to see there, but he had
steeled his nerves to the Hi ht. A few minutes later
it burst on him in all its g lastly completeness, and
even he was taken aback. -

Where the great, black powder-mill and white
tents .had been, in the thibkets of a dense pine—wood
now was a bare empty waste; a deep pit, excavated
by the action of, the wder, a few shattered stumps
0 trees, sticking u mm and there out of the sand,
and nothing else. ut around this void waste, in a
radiatin circle of death, was a picture of horrible
destruct on seldom paralleled. .

Trees were not on y laid in rows but splintered in
fragments, and stuck fantastica ly up in spiky
pieces, at every conceivable an le. The pond was
covered with broken pieces of t e wreck, some near-
ly at the other end. ‘

Worst of all were the horrible sights near by. The
ground was covered with the torn and bloody car-
cusses of men and horses, blackened with wder~
dust, and not a single body unmutilated. see the
cuirassien had expected. He was looking for some-
thin else; traces of the horse and rider he knew. At
last e found them.

Twined around the stum of a la tree, whose
top had been snapped 0 like a p pe-stem, was
Gerald’s brass halter-chain. He recognized it in a
moment. In the halter was hanging the head and
nackof a ay horse. The thick tree had sheltered
so much rom the explosion, but the bod was scat,—
tered in horrible fragments all over the .l-slde.

The cuirassier turned awa in horror and his eyes
fell on something that m e him shriek out like a
woman.

At the very foot of the stump, covered with blood
from the ban ing horse’s head lay a black silk mask,
that had fal en there, miraou ously preserved from

the explosion. .
With shaking an rs he raised the little mask.
“ Oh. Mother Heaven!" cried poor Carroll.
she wore to-day,

“'l'bhcrownlitthmaakthat

 

she's been here again to warn him, and they're both.
in iory together! Ochonei Ochonei"
e18. echoes from the blackened ruins repeated the

soun

It was too lain. Gerald and Therese had been
shattered to a ms in the e losion, be and a doubt-

Sick and trembling, the I h cuiram r cast him
self to the earth, face downward.

He was all alone now.

CHAPTER XXIII.
m occur or mquar.

Tm: camp before Tournay was all alive with 10 .
Cannons were gizfis in a loud salute, the ban I
played the old y t air, “ 0h, Richard, oh, man
rot, ' the whole army was under arms, in longhsglita
teiing lines of horse and foot, for the king an
riveddin camp, and a grand reception had been pI'O‘

pare .

A train of carriages, driven by servants in brilliant
ilveries, advanced at a foot-pace the lines of
armed men surrounded by the brilliant uniforms of
the Black Musketeers. A little arm in itself, six
thousand of the finest heavyv cava ry in Europe.
eve rider six feet in h ht‘, be celebrated New»
du oi, or Kin ‘s House old, followed the Huake~
teers, in a bro and imposing co umn.

Marshal Saxe, in a low basket carii , was await.
ing the king, and welcomed his ma esty, with re-
spectful regret that his disease had preventede
from coml to meet him.

The dull, l-tem red face of the king was un~
usually gracious t iat day. He was posi ively kind
to the invalid marshal, and enjoined him stric ly not
to neglect his health.

“ On you, Monsieur le Marechal,"he said, “now
depgnds the safety of France. You are too precious-
to e “

It was the longest tripeech his ma esty had made
for many a year, for ouis the We Beloved had a
grain deal of the oyster in his dull, commonplace-
sou .

Consequently the marshal felt that the kin trust»
ed him implicitly, and his face grew brig tcr,in
sphwtoguhifh m d i kl Th ki h

u passe veryquc . e n,wo
was ever self-indulgent, was ti with his igurney
from Douay, and retired to his quarters, refusing to
hold a review.

That ni ht there was to be a “ little supper,“ and
his majes was reserving himself for it. Businem.
might, an did, wait for p easure.

About noon, a number of brilliant officers, in full:
uniform, rode up to a lar e marquee, not far from
Saxe‘s quarters, and l t eir horses outside, while.
they entered in a bod Orderlies were in wait-
ing, and every now an then one issued from the
tent, and went dashing away full speed, with a letter
in his belt.

“What are they doing in there?" asked a young
volunteer of Clare‘s horse who had lounged over
from his camp, near by. The young man's accent
was foreign, his dark face quite handsome, and he
looked e from recent illness. He was speaking
to a t carabineer, on' duty, who was also watching
the tent with great interest. .

“ It’s the court of inquiry, about the explosion,"
said the carabineer, looking down at the slender
frame of the other with some disdain.

“ What explosion ?" asked the Irish volunteer, in'

nocently.
“Wh , how lon have you been in camp?" do,
mand the carab neer, in a tone of wonder, “not

to know that?“

“ Half an hour,” said Cavanagh, for it was he,
simply.

“ , for example, that is different. When did
you come i”

“In the king‘s train. I have been in hospital."

“ Ah, sick?’

“No wounded!"

“ Indeed?"

The b' soldier's tone was more respectful.

“ Guns ot wound?”

“No, rapier. A little affair—you understand?"

The carabineer softened instantly.

“ M poor comrade, thou art in luck, to get well in
time or Our next battle. I hear the Ln lish are ad-
vancing, with a number of Dutch an Austrians.
Thou art in luck.“

“Thanks. Now tell me about this explosion-
What is it i“

“Did you not hear aloud report yesterday, while
on the march here f”

“We heard something, but we took it for the
siege-gins."

“It was the powder-mill of Doiginy. Some of my
comrades were there, with two 0 cers of ours. The
English drove them in, when they were patrolling,.
am they blew up the mill and all the English, too.
My faith, it was a dear rice the paid, though."

‘How? Were an 0 them kiledr"

“Several, and More or less scorched. The»
senior officer, an Irish count, recent] appointedi
through some court favor, was drunk, t ey say, an
fast asleep by the mill. Of course he was blown to.

ieces."
p The young volumeer started.

“What was his name?“ he eagerly asked.

“ Count Desmond. He’s no loss, for the other
officers had made up their minds to get him out. I
understand“.

Cavanagh hstened intently, and his lip trembled.

“Comrade,” he said, simply, “Count mond'
and I were volunteers in the same squadron. Do
not belie him when he is dead."

The carabineer flushed slightly. He had all a
Frenchman’s tact and consideration for others‘ feel-

ings.
‘I pardon, comrade," he said, “I did not
know mt. There was another Irish officer killed
there, they tell me; a brave fellow, too, one of your
re ment. ’ht ed I

vanag urn e.

“ Not J acik Cafi~i-ol§‘itlooé" he said, brokenly. “ He
wasm on at or ren ." '

“I 0 not? know the name," said the soldier.
“This one was a huge man, with an enormouared
mgalflgd it " laid Cav with a " I‘m
dialogs.de “via-Sack(Earl-abroad.»~~

_'<  rswzsgr-‘vnegqruc m

'i
1/

 

 

 

H-

\I

 Irish. Captain.

13

 

 

There was a short silence. Then the young volun-
teer turned to the other.

“Comrade, you said Count Desmond was drunk.
Do you know this of your own self t“

“ Certainly, no," said the carabineer, hastily. “It
is but report."

“ Friend,“ said Cavaiiagh, eamestly, “ I am but
one man inst a crowd, but I will venture my hfe
the report is a lie. If you hear it from any one who
says he knows it, tell him that Will Cavanagh, of the
Third sqluadron of Clare‘s Horse says that he lies,
and wi prove it on him with any weapons he
pleases.“

The bi carabineer stared a little, but he said:

“ I wiif Contradict the report in future, comrade.
You knew this Count Desmond well?"

“ He and Carroll were my only friends, and I know
'aelther ever failed to do his duty.“

Then he parted from the carabineer, and walked
lsowa with drooping head. He felt inexpressibly

ne v.

 

“ Lieutenant the Baron d‘Etioies, to be examined,”
said the orderly on duty.

“Monsieur le Baron will be seated,“ said Mar-
shal Cormontaigne. the president of the court.

Etioles advanced and took his seat. He was unin-
Lured b the explosion, having been a long way off,

at hisliair an mustache had been sing and dis-
figured by the blaze of the burnin forest, where the
bushes had taken fire from the if wrecks, and he
looked pale from the shock.

The marshal questioned him closely about the
skirmish, and his orders to Le Borgne, and his an-
swers were in the main correct.

At last came the question:

“ Where was Count Desmond during the fight?"

Etioles hesitated.

“ I had rather not say, Monsieur le Marechal.
The count is dead.“ .

“ What is your cause for hesitation, monsieur? '

“ I do not wish to injure the memory of a deceased
officer, who was, moreover, in my own squadron.“

“The court appreciates your reluctance, mon-
deur, but at pl esent we are endeavoring .to ascer—
tain the trut . I gave the count certain orders
transferred to me. 1 would ascertain if the were
obeyed. I repeat, where was Count Desmon ?"

“ Asleep under a tree by the mill."

“ How—asleep when a fight was in progress?“

“ Asleep so soundly that the shots failed to waken
him."
“ How was this? When did be fall asleep?"
“ I do not know, Monsieur le Mai-echal. left him
watching me as I rode into the forest, and he was
unable to sit his horse at the time.“

“ How—did he seem sick?“

“No, monsieur; only sleepy. On his feet, proba-
bl , he would have staggered. As it was, he nearly
ta 1 off his horse. “ ’

“ Monsieur le Baron," said Cormontaigne, gravely,
"do you know that you imply something serious?’

“Remember, marshal, I begged to be excused
from answering." _

“In one word, sir, answer
to say that the count was runk on duty? Yes or
no.“

“Yes, Monsieur le Marechal. Almost all of the
men we relieved in the camp were also drunk. It
was my principal reason for patrolling, for I feared
the enemy might come in on us unprepared."

” Did any 0 younmen notice the same thing?“

“I think so, mom'ieur."

“That will do. You can retire, baron. Call the
senior sergeant, if he is alive, who belonged to the

rt ."

"Etlbles bowed and retired. He had lutted his
revenge. Wereliis eneni ' still alive, be 'new that
he had ruined him as a 80 (her. Dead, he had caused
his name to be dishonored.

Col-inoiitaigne looked gravely round the board.

“ Gentlemen, if the boron was not in error, we
have a disagreeable duty to perform; no less than
to censure the memory of a dead officer, and cause
his name to be stricken from the rolls in disgrace.
Here comes the sergeant.‘

Sergeant Poirier, the sonic scoundrel who had
been found 1) Gerald, two nights previous, dead
drunk, by the ' hted candle in the straw, was now
lshered in. ,

The snrgeant had donc his best to clean up since

e explosion, but he had not the advan e of a
{hoange of raimcnt, like his commander. e still

ked pretty dirty. and his red and bloated counte‘
Mace was a. perfect index to his character.

Dormontaigiie eyed liiixi sharply.

“ What is your name? ‘

“ Baptist/r Poirier."

This was said with a hiccup. The sergeant had
already managed to procure liquor enough to make

ilainly. Do you mean

v .. avpy- 
What is your rank :-

P“So:irgeant of the Fifth squadron, dragoons of

near ,"

“‘ Whiz-e were you when the explosion took
t ace?"

“ Ridin for in life, by the pond of Doign ."

“ d ygil see ount Desmond, during the fight?"

“ N0, monsieur.“ -
I “ 1Were you, or any of your men, drunk on that

q 19

XI de.i i," said Poirier, valiantl . “ We had
hem drinking, but all the brandy in he storehouse
was spilt in the pond by the captain, and we only
hal one home hidden away. One bottle of brandy
:phldn‘t make two men drunk. you know, Monsieur

Mitrechal." 1 w

" ‘wo men—had on no more it camp. ”

“ y 9“ Your excellflncy, eiHM-lWO to 93$," bowe-

“ Had vou roul- bottles of brandy, sign?

‘ Yes, monsteur, I scorn to lie.“ "

’ ' When did you lain see Count Desmond? asked
Comiontai 9, use; a lung pause of silent thought.

“ When ieubenant Carroll took the watch and
wont to visit the pickets on the Tournay mud. The
count went to his tent to sleep."

“ Who led you into the fight?“

“ Lieutenant Carroll; monsieur. He accused us of
bel drunk. and made us follow him and char e a
who e uadron with eight men. We were g to
get out, fore we‘d been lo in. Then the baron
called out. Suave qui my :33 we ran “'51- 3°"
 first train a little too soon,

 

“ You can go, sergeant. Orderly, report him a
prisonerto the officer of the guard, as you take him
out.

The sergeant‘s face fell as he went out, but he
said to the orderly. with an air of trium h:

“ I shall not stay lon , comrade. ereare too
many heads in danger f Itell all I know. Your
marshal is an old fool.“

Cormontaigne, on his part, said to the assembled
officers:

“ Gentlemen, I think we have heard enough. The
whole party was clearly drunk, except perhaps
Lieutenant ‘arroll. Let us make up our report.“

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
moan: aroma-ms.

A LARGE and handsome chateau stood on the
5"‘ltlllllt of a gentle hilla few miles from Tournay.
:2 was the same at whose doors Gerald Desmond
had left the young and beautiful Therese Le Nor-
mand on the night before the ill-fated e lesion.

lnt e large saloon of the chateau, picturesque
and old-fashioned in its furniture, the same beauti-
ful lady whom we have mentioned before, under
the name of Madame Antoinette, was walking up
and down, in a manner expressive of great agitation,
while near her the enigrnatical Arouet was seated at
a table, quietly sipping his coffee.

Madame Antoinette suddenly stopped in her walk,
and spoke to him in a manner expressive of great
nervous irritation.

“ Arouet, you will drive me mad with our cool-
ness! Have you no heart, no pity? Th s horrible
news has completely unnerved me, and you sit there
as composed as if nothing had hap ned."

“ On the contrary, madam,"sad Arouet, uiet-
lg, “it seems to me that I am the greatest oser.

y the unfortunate death of this oun man I have
lost ten thousand francs, out of w ich should have
made twenty, in time.“

“ Money money. still money!“ she exclaimed
impetuous . “ Heavens, what a strange com und
you are! ith a brain such as no man in urope
can boast of you are tied down with a load of
avarice that the veriest bourgeou mi lit be ashamed
to own, Are on not rich? Does iis loss disturb
your sleep? ave on not plenty still?"

“It is precisely or that reason, ma chere, that I
do not rave. Thank Heaven, I am a philosopher—
in a velvet coat. None the less, I maintain that I
have lost more than on.“

“It isfalsc,"sbec ed with flashing eyes. “Have
I not. lost, my peace 0 mind forever? Did not I
send him here, did I not advance him- and make
him the envy of the court, and has it not brought
his blood on my soul? And, oh, he was so youn
and handsome, and he loved me, Arouet, he lov
me for myself. Have I lived among these false
cowards so long, not to know that every one is sel-
fish at heart, as sclflsh—ay, as selfish as you, with
all your genius? One worships me because he fears
my wit, and another because he sees in my ac-
cursed beauty the signs of future power of which
he may reap the benefits by befriending me now.
Only he loves me—no—did love me for myself, not
knowing who I was, not caring, trusting with the
grand faith of a noble nature in me whom he in-
vested witb virtu I never shall seas—woe is
me! And this bra e, sim le young night, peer to
the great Bayard himse f, I have sent to an in-
giorioltfis death for my sake. Can I never forgive
m as 2'"

ie thin, sarcastic lip of Arouet curled.

“I think you will, ma chere. Well, be it so. You
say nothing of your sister-in-law, my pupil. She too
has disap ared. Where is she?"

“IIapp er than I, Arouet. Therese was wiser.
She saw his nature, and loved him from the first mo-
mont she saw him. What if she did wander off to a
sudden death. She died with him. For her fate I
airinot to blame."

Arouet rose, with unwonted dignity.

“ Pardon me, madame, you are."

L; 3’10?“ .

lior tone was indi ant.

“Explain yoursel , nionsieur.“

“Simple enough. You took such an interest in
this youth, that you availed ourself of the foolish
passion of Therese to send er out here to watch
over his safety. A pure young rl, the onlygood
member of a vile family, is left a one in a house of
servants, between two contending armies, to watch
over a soldier. Why did y‘u not keep him in Paris?"

“You know. none bet r, that his life was not
safe an hour. Etioles, Richelieu, all those who are
interestcd in seeing me in power, feared that his

irosence might ruin their schemes. I sent him
{here to be safe.“

“And Therese—Why should she be exposed to
danger?"

“Because she Wished it. You do not know what
this love is. Arouet, you, who have no passion, noth-
ing but mi intellect of ice.”
1i Arouet quivered slightly, and compressed his thin
pa.

“You have reason," he said, quietly. “Yet, I
swear to you, madame, that if by giving up all my
hard-earned fortune I could bring ack' my pupil to
life, I would go back tomorrow to be the lackey to
great men I once was, before I conquered indepen-
dence, and made even nobles fear the pen and
tongue of truth and eternal justice.”

The shrivéled face of the old man glowed as if
withinspiration, as he spoke with unwonted energy,
and its yellow, cadaverous hue warmed slightl .

adame Antoinette stopped and held out her

white hand.
“Let us not uarrel, Arouet,“ she said. “You
, at least. You hide your heart

tell me the trut
well old friend."

“ hould I not?" he answered bitterly. “ Do you
remember when De Rohan‘s ackeys avenged the
sarcasm with sticks, that their master‘s to e was
too slow to retort? Two years in the Basti e is an
education to craft. Let it s. Therese is gone.
Desmond is gone. We mu bu our (lead in our
hearts and live on. You, too, will?' loam selfishness
in time. To-night you are invited to the ‘ little sup-
per' of the king. t is the crisis of yourfate."

“ What if I will not go?" she said.

“ You will," he said, fri dly.

:: And why, if I do not c eon—:0 m

Because you are necessary France, pro-
gress, to humanity."

. I“. 4i ..w
.‘ [nail-‘2" “52,,

 

“France rogrem, humanit 1" she echoed, bit~
terl . “Wilfthey give back elife I have sacri
fl , the love I have lost in him?"

“One can not have every thing," he answaed,
icily. “You are too exacting, ma chm; you can
not have two lovers forever, and the one you will
have is too jealous to brook rivals."

She was about to answer, when the door was.
thrown open, and a servant announced in a loud
v0ice:

“ Monsieur le Baron, madame.“

Etioles entered the room with a ra id step, fol-
lowed by several servants, and abrupt y addressed
Madame Antoinette in a harsh tone, saying:

“80, madame, I understand that m sister has
disa peared from the chateau. Is this rue!"

“ one should kn0w better than you,“ she replied,
sarcastically. “I am told that you were on duty in
the direction in which she went. ‘

“Very good, madame. Then allow me to inform
you that in that.‘ direction, yesterday, happened a
ten1ble explosion. If she went out to carry a mes-
sage to our lover, he and she are buried together.
Do on ear?“

“ 0 what end do you tell me this, monsieurf"

“ Simply that you may know that he is deadf
Eirdlame. So perish all that attempt the honor-o ‘

o 68.7!

“ Then you mean to say that you had ahand in
his death? ’ asked Madame Antoinette,with a strange
glitter in her eyes.

h He came up closer to her, and fixed his eyes on
ers.

“ You know I did," he said, in a deep, grating
whisper. “He is dead. Now, refuse, if you dare,
to do my will. Your name shall be trumpeted from
one end of France to the other, and there will be no
coronet to hide that shame. "

For a moment it seemed as if Madame Antoinette
would strike the baron in the face as he stood before-
her. Her face grew white as death, and her eyes
glared dangerously.

Then she too leaned forward and spoke in a whis

per:

“ You have owned it. Best content. To-nigh!‘
the end will be accom lished. But you, you who
would sell your honor or money, take care float pot
a) e not cheated of the .“

Without another word she turned and swept front
the room with the port of a ueen, leaving Etiole!
standing doubtfully looking af er her.

He was roused by the aha p metallic voice of
Arouet. ‘\

.“ Hols, mon baron, you look tho htful. Red
tran uil. The game is ours. The litt e supper wil
deci e the case."

Etioles turned round sav ly.

“Old meddler," he hisse , ‘ you were his friend.
How do you like the loss of your ten thoust
francs?"

“ My dear baron," said the other, tran iiilly, tak‘
ing snuff, “I never repine at losses till t e game is
over. It is not finished yet. We are partners lit
target.) Why siliiould Fe truimpi) each fther‘s best
ca y uarre rig? own t satyn position
for a motile] husband like you to be 8 in, but
courage. The coronet will ide 'a mult tude of—“

He whispered the last word with a mocking leer.

The baron stamped his heel. uttered a furious
oath, and rushed from the room.

Arouet laughed sardonically.

“ He’ll not quarrel with me,” he muttered

CHAPTER XXV.
A “um: scram."

Wrrmx sound of the guns of Tournay, but shel-
tered from missiles b an intervening eminence,
steed the huge, rambl rig Chateau Gauram, occu-
pied by his majesty, with all his retinue.

The Chateau Gauram had been the residence of‘

werful barons in the middle ages, who had fenced
t with massive walls, turrets with pointed roofs, a
great square donjon, with extensive outworks, sur-
rounding the whole with a broad, deep moat, which
opened into the river Scheldt. Their successors in
more civilised da 's, had converted the fortress into
a palace fit for a , and which indeed required a
kingly income to render it habitable, so vast was its
extent. For the king of France and his court there
was room and to spare. The old line of the curtains
was now broken by huge windows; the turrets were
only used for side staircases; and the grand hall. a.
hundred and m feet uare, by fort in hight, was:
turned into a -room lazing with ghts.

On the night of the king's arrival in Tournay there
was to be a “little on per," at least such was the an-
nouncement at first, at it became whispered about
that the “ little supper " was in reality to be a
entertainment, as ar as numbers and feasting went,
while its private character was to be maintained by
:he fact of the visitors being all masked and in dom-
noes.

It was true that the enemy was positively re
ported as advancing, and that every now and then
a shell from Tournay dropped near the chateau,
while the siege-guns kept up a regular, tho h slow
cannonade. St ii, the danger was not se , for
that night at least, and its proximity added just
sufficient spice to the entertainment to render fig
charming.

Just about sunset, and horsemen began
toarrive. There were but few of the former, for
most of the court ladies were lodged in the palatial
extent of the.chateau; but generals,'colonels. and
cagtains, dukes, counts and bare were galloping
in yscores from the army aroun passingu the
long avenues of gleamin cu era. on
their horses, holdin tore es that would be lighted
as mass it was da .

A short distance from the chateau rose a little
bill, by the side of the Scheldt, which commanded
an extensive view of the count toward Brussels.
0n the summit of this hill, in t e crimson rays of
the sunset, a low baske was stan and
beside it a little group of horsemen.

The handsome dissi ted face of Richelieu, the»
king‘s favorite, the peg and youthful features of
the Duke de Grammont, and several other officers-
of note, were to be seen there, around the hel lem
bulk of the old marshal, who seemed to be exp -~
ing something to them, pointing frequently at the-
prospect below.

 

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explaining the position to Richelieu, who was in
turn to report it to the king.

“ Yonder, monsieur le duc." said the old marshal,
“ you see the Scheldt winding awa to the sea. In
that large curve lies the bridge of olone, behind the
arm '.’

" lye it the only bridge?“ asked Richelieu, keenly.

“By no means, monsieur. There arc six others,
of pontoons."

‘ Still, we shall fight with a river behind us. That
will be awkward in case of defeat."

“ Monsieur le duc, we shall not be defeated. Be-
sides it is too late to change our position on the eve
if a battle."

'l‘dglontinue, monsieur le marechal," said Richelieu,
oo .

“On the right of our position, monsieur, you see
the village 0 Antoine, by the river. In the center,
and close to it, is Fonteuoy. On the left, and drawn
'back, is Gauram and the wood of Barry. You see
we are drawn up in a half moon, swelling outward a
"little. Fontenoy is the key of the position, and I
defy them to take Fontenoy. It is covered with
works fit to def any army in Europe. Marlborou h
would have fai ed to take it, with any sort of e-
Tense.”

Richelieu nodded.

“ I see, I see. And Antoine?"

“It is ually strong, and one continuous intrench-
mentto ontenoy. On the right we are absolutely
safe."

2: go far, so good. Now the left.“

he wood covers the flank, and there is a heavy _

'redoubt there, also one near Fontenoy."

Richelieu looked keenly in the direction indicated.

“Between Gauram and Fontenoy, are more any
works?”

Saxe hesitated.

“ To say the truth, monsieur 1e due, I could wish
"we had time to 'ut one more redoubt there, but the
enemy are too c ose. Otherwise the position would
be absolutely impregnable. The approach is en-
flladed by the two redoubts, and the ground is diffi-
cultinfaurrowed by ravines. The reserve will be drawn
up bind the gap, and we must trust to French
valor to defend it.’

Richelieu smiled slightl and shook his head.

“ The crisis will come t ere.

“ I own it. You see the whole position."

“I will re rt it to his majesty, marshal. Have
you a safe p ace for him?"

“ At the mill and chapel of Our Lady of the Wood.
It is a hill behind Fontenoy and commands the
whole field. Will his majesty e there?”

“Without fail. Good-evening, marshal.“

The group broke up as the sun set. and Richelieu
. filloped to the chateau, while Saxe drove down to

e army.

It was a strange sight to a person standing on the
top of the bill, as the darkness crept on, and espe-
cial] to one knowing the state of th ngs. Below in

 

 

Do you not think so?" }

of the Irish brigade. From under his black mask
rose the curling points of a huge red mustache, the
ends of which came nearly to his eyes, though they
seemed to have been sadly thinned and scorched by
some recent tire.

He stood in the midst of the crowd, gazingintcntly
at the masked lady on the king’s right han .

Hanging on the arm of this gigantic cavalier was
a lad , in a white domino faced with yellow satin,
andt e jetty curl that stra 'ed out from under the
hood of the domino at one Side, showed that the lady
had consulted her brunette complexion in her choice
of colors.

As the king entered and his party became visible,
this )lady uttered a low exclamation from under her
mas '.

“Mon Him, 0‘ ext Antoinette .’ 0' es! rim.“

(llcavcns, it is Antoinette! It is all over!)

The tall cavalier pressed her arm warningly.

“One must not speak yet,” he muttered, under
his breath.

It was true. The silence of the band seemed to

' be intentional, for the king turned his head and

spoke a few words to an obse uio s courtier behind
him, who bore-a long gold stic in is hand.
As gold stick stepped forward the yellow, shriveled

‘visage of Arouet, without any mask, was seen to

ap ar close to the elbow of the lady in the white
an yellow domino.

“ Chut,.ma cite/la," he whis ered, hastily. “You
are trembling so that you wil ruin all. It is fated.
Orig can do no more. After all, whatever is, is
ri t."

he lady put out a small white hand and grasped
the old courtier by the sleeve with nervous haste.

“Where is he? ’ she whispered, in a low tone of
lalnxi‘ety. “ Not here, for heavens sake! He loves

er. ’

Arouet elevated his shoulders to the side of his ears.

“What matter? Others have loved and lost.”

Here there was a low hiss around them, warning
them to silence.

Gold stick was clearing his throat to speak.

“ Mesa-tears et mesdumea," cried the functionary, in
a loud, shrill voice, “b ' the order of his gracious
majes , Louis, King of ‘rance, and in order to show
his ma esty‘s consi eration for the most fascinating
and beautiful lady in France, I have the honor to

1 announce to,you that his majesty has been pleased

' this day to a

point Madame Jeanne Antoinette Le
Normand d’E ioles to the position of first lady of the
palace to her majest the queen."

There was a low an of interest but gold stick
had not finished. He gave a loud “item.” and pro-
ceeded.

“And whereas his majesty wishes none but ladies
of the highest rank as well as beaut to attend near
his own sacred person, he has been p eased this day,

i by letters (patent, signed with his own gracious hand,

the istance, glittered the cam -tlres of the covering .

army and far away in the gat ering darkness were

the twinkling lights of the Allies, who had been i
. king‘s side removed her mask, and disclosed t

slowly arriving during the day, and taking up their
position op site the rench.

0n the ot er side the occasional sullen boom of a
cannon from the trenches before Tournay told of a
second army already in action, and yet, between the
two, careless and joyous, the Chateau Gauram was
.all ablaze with lights, while the sweet strains of the
numerous bands told of the festivities going on in
sight of the contending forces, so to speak.

As the darkness advanced the cuirassiers
lighted their torches, and sat patiently on their
horses on each side of the long avenue, watching
carriages and horsemen dash up to the principal en-
trance. The court of the chateau was crammed
with led horses, and such crowd was there that the
carriages were compell to drive out when they
had deposited their loads, and wait in the garden.
In short, it was one of those grand “crushes,” of
which we in America have but little idea, and only

ssible under the unlimited expenditure of an abso-

ute monarch. -

The grand hall was already nearly full of guests,
and the open doors disclosed beyond it, the long
vista of the old uard-rooms, armories and cha x.
now turned into anqueting rooms. At the en of
all was a little oratory, about twenty feet square,
now to be used for secular pu ses, for in that
little room was laid out the gned cause for all
this festivity, the “little supper" at which only the
king and a few intimates were to sit down.

In the hall, meanwhile, the guests were promenad-
ing to the sounds of sweet music, and waiting for
the opening of the ball. The gentlemen were all
masked, but in uniform, and there was little diffi-
culty in recognizing persons. The ladies, with few
fuiueptionsgzi wore dominoes, and were thus effectual—

Presentl there was a bustle at one end of the
room, an, the kin made his a pearance, with a
small train of court ers, all unmas ed. His majesty
was accompanied b a lady in white satin, covered
with folds of cost y lace, and fairl scint‘ lating

ht as she walked, so profuse were t e orn cuts
0 diamonds which she wore. She alone, of all the
train, wore a white satin mask, above which her
bright golden hair was thrown back in a coronet-like
wave, gathered in a comb set with diamonds, and
falling down over her statuesque neck and broad
white shoulders in a profusion of ringlets, undis-
'flgured by powder. The lady was tall and stately,
.and her bare arms, rounded and symmetrical, were
Minded with bracelets.

Beside her im rial beauty of form, even though
her face was hi don, the king looked small and mean
in urc. is court dress, covered with jewels,
coul not save him from appearing as a foil to the
lady at his side.

At thc.entrancc of the royal party there was an
instant hush over the hall. so that a- pin ht have
been heard to drop. The musicians, who ad been
playing a march, stopped sudden] , for they had
not received the to at a up the royal
anthem. In fact, for a moment, the silence e

one.
on gradually arose a low. whispered bun among
all the vast crowd.

“Who is she? Whocan she be?"

Noticeable dmong the crowd near the entrance of
- the was a man vast Light and Herculean
bamawaorethc ormofgrecnandscarlct,

   

‘-. '  .-.
Adam we.

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and seale with the seal of France, to create Jeanne

Antoinette Le Normand d’Etioles, nee Poisson, to be,
and I hereby announce her as

MADAME LA MARQUIS]: or. Pouranous.”

As be pronounced the last words the ladygyfthe

e ea-

tures of Madame Antoinette! At the same moment,

gold stick slinaled to the band, and eve piece in

e hall struc up the old air written by enry IV.,
Then, at a silent but well-
understood signal, evei mask fell from the faces
of the company, and a uzz of conversation arose.

The only exceptions were the tall cavalier and his
fair charge. They remained masked, and the man
was look n eagerly over the heads of the crowd, as if
in search 0 somet ing while the lady clung to his
arm, trembling violent y.

Presently, however, over the music, rose the
sounds 0f,excited voices in the center of the hall,
and a disturbance seemed to have taken place
there. There were cries of alarm:

“ He’s dead." “No, only a faint." “ Carry him
out." “ Give him air." ‘

The lady by) the side of the gigantic masked cava-
lier 1spoke to im in a tone of low but eager entreaty.

“_ onsieur Carroll, for God's sake, 0 see him. t
is he! Bon Dion 1 know it must be e, and he has
recognized her. is heart is broken."

Carroll. for the reader has doubtless reco nized
our old friend i re this, hesitated, and observ :

“ But ou—who will take care of ou?" _

“ ha will I,"said the sharp v0 es of Arouet in

“ Charmante Gabrielle."

‘1 tones of unwonted gravity. “Go, brave Irelan er,

 

and rescue thy comrade. I doubt it is another, how.
ever,’ or I mistake my brave prote e."

Carroll bowed hastil , resigned t e lady to Arouet,
and strode through t e crowd with gigantic steps,
parting the people as if they had been children. In
a few moments e arrived at a little open espace near
the dais, on which the court was station , and be-
held a strange scene.

In the center of a circle, on the floor, layt Baron
d’Etioles, shakin from head to foot in a violent fit,
while above him, ooking down with a face of deadly
pallor, was the noble figure of the lost Gerald Dea-
mond, supgosed to be dead.

Desinon was in full uniform, more splendid than
ever, but his face wore the look of a man who has
just received a mortal wound.

Carroll looked up at the dais. ‘

The ki was contemplatin the scene with a sar-
castic s e, as if he to t pe eccly satisfied with the

result.

A little behind him Madame de Pompadour, for it
was indeed that brilliant and guilty woman, had
fallen into an arm-chair and was slow] swaying a
feather fan backward and forward, w th an air of
serene carelessness, while she contemplated the
scene.

Carroll looked at her earnestly. He had too often
heard her described not to recognize in the guilty
mistress of the king the angel an idol of Gerald s
vision, the mysterious Madame Antoinette. He de-
voured her with a fierce hun gaze. Carroll was
a devoted friend, Irish to the kbone, who loved
and bated with the lame fiery intensi ; and at that
fiomfiezt’the oxecratod the fine lady to 0 bottom of

s e .

There shout, cold as ice, her face not in the mask
of cold caronterythat she was doomed to wear for-
ever after, without a 6% of feeling' either for the
husband who lay all seem , before her,
or the other and no nature that she had just
Itabfi to the heart. Risen from the dead. as ho

 

to her, for she had never believed him alive.

till that moment, nothing seemed to astonhh or
move her.

But the keen, hungry eyes of the Irishman, watch‘
ing her whenbthers were looking elsewhere, beheld
one sign which caused him to turn away with a
short, fierce Ian 11 of satisfaction.

“Ye feel it, 0 ye, ye cursed light 0‘ love?” he
muttered, savagely.

He had seen a little drop of blood on the white
chin, under the closely-compressed lips.

Madame Ponipadour had bitten her lower lip
through and through!

CHAPTER XXVI.
'rns PLUNGE. -

I'r seems about time that we should go back a
little, and explain how it. was that Gerald Desmond,
left asleep within a hundred feet of a burstin pow-
der-mill,
had been nearly a quarter of a mile off, had received
such injuries.

Our readers will have likewise begun to suspect,
in all probability, the identity of the lady in the white
and yellow domino; and it seems just that we should
ex lain the circumstances.

e left Therese seated on her little chestnut mare,
and regarding, with astonishment and deli ht, the
sleepin form of Gerald Desmond, whom s 8 had
believe en aged in the fight beyond.

Therese Normand was a very foolish young
lady, it must be confessed, for she had fallen des—
perately in love with the handsome Irish count,
who, on his part treated her with studied coolness,
and ardentl loved her sister-in-law, a married wo.
man, in all innocence, believing her a pure and per-
fect maiden or widow he knew not which. Therese
knew lperfectly well that she could have shattered
all ths bright portrait with a word, for she was
doomed .to see, powerless to revent the vile clan—
destine intrigues by which adnme d‘Etioles was
forced upon the king by her own husband, assisted
by an infamous family,who hoped to profit in world]
fortune by the sale of their ionor. She krew a
this, and et forbore to speak that word, from an
innate de cacy, the more remarkable in this girl,
surrounded as she was by vicious and dishonorable
influences ever since s e left the convent in which
she was educated.

But Therese Le Normand possessed one of those
rare natures of purity, that onl seem to retain the
good they are taught, rejecting he evil. The lessons
of the good nuns ad left her strong against all evil,
and she had moved amid the atmosphere of avicious‘
court, pure and uncontaminate. Out of the foul
mine had come a lustrous diamond.

Now she (gazed on Gerald with a singular mixture
of love an fear. The love was wholl unselfish.
She knew him surrounded by enemies, w 10 saw that
Madame d’Etioles was inclined, in her caprice, to
mar all their plans by an indiscreet passion for a
handsome youth, who might arouse the jealousy of
the king, and cause him to relinquish a pursuit he
entered on but coldly. Her own brother was head
of those enemies, alarmed still more by the extra-
ordinary ains taken by madame to advance her
protege. 0 do this, she had not scrupled to use her
power with her royal lover, and Etioles had only suc-
ceeded in his counter-scheme by the influence of his
fellow-conspirator, Richelieu. These courtiers wished
gm king employed and amused at any hazard.

therwise, be m ght take it into his head to govern,
perhaps to interfere with Richelieu and his clique,
among them Etioles.

Therese knew her brother was planning Gerald‘s
destruction, by what means she knew not at, but
she dared not awake Gerald. And meanw '19 the
battle was growin hotter in the forest.

She was saved rom the necessity b the conduct
of the count‘s horse, which frightened ier excessive-
ly. The animal strained at his halter-chain, reared
and plunged round the tree, and at last in his efforts
lashed out one of his hind feet, and kicked a shower
of sand and gravel over the sleeping officer, stinging
him sharply.

In a moment Gerald was on his feet, awake and
collected, and coming to his senses with the readi-
ness of a soldier who 3 used to night alarms. There
were no rubbing of eyes and yawning, but instead, a
fierce burst of anger at the horse for waking him, '
which he threw a handful of gravel at him wi
spiteful vehemence, bringing the beast to order at
once.

The next moment the sounds of the firing below
caught his ear. He started, turned, and found him-
self face to face with Therese. .

“ Mademoiselle Le Normand!“

“The same, monsieur le comte. For Heaven‘s
sake, come away with me. They are fighting below,
and our people are bein driven back.‘

Gerald started and loo eddowp.

As he did so, Le Borgne dashed out of the wood,
and went galloping up the ridge to fire the train.

“ What oes that mean?“ the young captain mutr
tered anxiously.

Le rgne had hardly disappeared in the wood on
the ridfiia, when Jack Carroll came tearing out near

followed by the dragoons, and dashed
down-hill into the tight.

A moment later the retonded page of Etioles
came runni to them, or face white with frantic
terror. She ell at Desmond‘s feet.

" My God, nionsieur le comte, do you know what
they are going to do? In a moment more, they will
pic; up the mill. Lo Borgne has gone to firstho
m H

Gerald‘s face fiw pale and his eyes glittered.

“ What train. y? Quick. what train?"

“The train in the woods to the mill," faltered tho
pretended boy, ashy pale. “ It is all planned,
monsieur. {hey are to wimp put here and entice
theEnglish f 110 . on thfimhcre-andour
man across the pond, the mill will be blown into
the air. My God, monsieur, here they come. We
have no time to lose. Save yourself.

Gerald hesitated only a moment. One rapid
glance round. He shook his clenched fist savang
at Etiol as the baron. with a mob of follow
thunde past at that very moment in a cloud
dust, not sec' anyth in the hu and blinding
confusion. W th loud I ate, the list; we
streamin up the hill in pursuit. Then, with a
muttered curse of fiery rage at treacherous
trick he had been subjected to he strode to Theresa,
plucked im- off her horse with caps-mm

ad escaped unharmed, when Carro , who '

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and ran along the ridge to the edge of the water.
carrying the 'rl and followed by Giannina, who was
shrieking an crying with useless terror.

A moment later he stood by the deep black pool,

with Therese in his arms and looked fiercely round.
The English had reached the mill, and were riding
round it, waving their :words and shouting with
triumph. Several were rushing toward the little
cup of three by the edge of the water shouting,
Surrender!" .
Gerald cast a glance across the pond. Etioles and
his mob were streamin r along the other side, spur-
ring frantically, and all-out a third of a mile from
the mill. Then he spoke to Giannina harshly, for
the moment was one of supreme danger, and he
thought her a boy: '

“Silence, you cowardly hound! When I leap,
follow. ”

Still he stood by the bank, watching, and careless
of the cuirassiers firin at him.

Ila was wttclzingfbr t eflush of the train.

Presently he saw a ser lentine ribbon of lightning
come tearing through t e dark wood beyond the
mill. It disappeared behind the shed, and at the
same instant t iree figures plunged down headlong
into twenty feet of water.

‘

CHAPTER XXVII.
sAvnn nv warn.

DOWN into the cold depths of the pond plunged
Gerald and his two companions, at the very instant
of the explosion. With the coolness and self-com-
mand of a veteran, the soldier had waited for that
moment. H he leaped sooner, he would have
risked coming 0 the surface while the explosion
was taking place. A moment later, and the air would
have been a sea of flame. The exposure of an lm'll
of surface to that fiery blast meant utter annihila-
tion. standing as he was, not two hundred feet from
the mine.

Down down, into the. dark depths he plunged
perpendicularly, the bank being at its steepest, the
water at its deepest. Therese was clasped in his
arms, nearly iiiseiisible. and Graniiiiin, the, false
p e, was at his side. The water roared in his ears
as ie went down, and it seemed an age to the diver,
as he descended, never so slowly as then.

The bubbles were still circling above his head, not
six inches from the surface, when a tremendous
quivering shock took place. Gerald felt as if he
had received a stunning blow in the chest, knock-
ing all the breath out of his botlly, and heard the
heav ' crash that told of the exp osioii. Down in
the (ark water, it sounded like the will of ten
thousand thunders, bursting close to his cars." So
fearful was the shock that he became partially in-
sensible.

And then succeeded an awful silence, broken, af-
ter a while, by successive dull blows, that vibrated
through the elastic medium from every direction,
far and near, as the fragments of wreck were scat-
tered in the water.

Then, slowly, slowly, his breath nearly spent, he
felt himself rising to the surface, till, with a sense
of ove )owerlng gratitude, his head rose out of the
water, Just lonfi enough for him to take breath, and
he found himse f going down again.

The reason was ve simple. His cuirass and
sword were carryin rhim down, when the elastic
rebound of the exp osion had caused him to rise.
But he was an old swimmer, and a vigorous man.
Mereover, he was not ten feet from the bank. By
desperate eiiorts he managed to swim that ten feet,
almost under water, and felt in his hand the soft
clay of the embankment. His fair ch e seemed
to be now uite insenslbie, and offer no hin-
ilrance, by c ng or otherwise, to his efforts.
Once havin his hand on the bank, the rest was pas-
Iible. ' Di his fingers into the clay with desper—
Ite tenacxty, ie succeeded in drawing his head out
of the water, and allowed himself to hang for a
moment, while he (panted to recover his breath.
Therese, not weighe down as he was, floated mo-
tionbsa beside him, her face pale and lifeless, her
eyes closed.

Then the soldier cast his eyes round, and shud-
dered at the peril he had cseaiwi.

The water seemed to be covered with wrecks, for
his eyes, close to the surface, met nothing but spars
and trunks of trees, or the horrible fragments of
human bodies.

A little way off, he heard a splashing and struggl-
in , with tho rgiiug shrieks of a drowning erson,
half-choked Eylwater. He saw the arms of he un—
fortunate page tossed wildly in the air, and realized
for the first time that the boy could not swim. And
he could not save him!

Even had he been able to leave the senseless The-
rese, he knew that he could not rescue a drowning
person, incumbered as he was with armor.

What was to be donei—for the boy was evidently

linking.
Has 3 whirling round, in some vague 0
lion of elp, his end received a blow from some-
shnrp, and he found that the jagged, splintered
e of a large had floated close to him.
ith iapi ecision he pushed Therese closeto the
W, on he arm that was clutching theclny, and
we a powerful above with his left hand to the spur,
if“ as the boy’s head came to the surface, uttering
‘ -"'“o.dt‘clii“3i" r h h ted. it t 1 li
espar ‘ osou as wen
slowly through the water. toward the digsvgnigg

one.

Hohad no time to see more, for at that moment
his hand Ill pod from the treacherous clay, and
down he won with Therese under the water.

‘ Recent e rimenta made with large bells and
other loud soxii:ds on the lake of Geneva, Switzer.

land. demonstrate that, cont to the general
opinion, shocks are transmitted 11 water with
renter intensity and to tor stances than

hro h the air. An expl n of suflciont force to
shake ho earth would therefore be plainly heard in

1: water, even if the chief plan of its strength
' This note thong

htnocelsary
gihonuthor for the benefit of those who might

 

The Irish Captain.

15

 

But he was too close to the bank to be in any seri-
ous danger now, and soon regained his old position.

 

 

l of making a stron cord, were athered and knotted

Finding that there seemed to be no holdin -plnce. :

that was not subject to the same dan ers, ie, be-
thought him of a plan, which he instant y adopted.
Slowly and cautiously digging his fingers into the
bank to retain his place, he caught hold of the
loosened hair of Therese with his teeth, so as to sus-
tain her head and leave one of his own hands free.
It was his left, and with it he managed to pull out
his sword, and raise it out of the water. Then, hold-
ing it by the blade, he struck the. sha point into the
soft embankment, and felt safe. 31m having it
there, it was an easy matter to drive it deeper and
(he er, till it was buried nearly to the hilt, and af-
fori ed a firm hold.

Then he had time to look round for the boy, and
to his delight, found that the latter had seized the
iiece of wreck and was lying half across it, ex-

austed, but safe.

“Thank Heaven!“ ejaculated Gerald, fervently.
“ Havinf: done so much for us, God will not desert
us sure y.”

The water was Cold, and his situation irksonie.
Therese, was still senseless, and to all appearance
dead. His hold on the rapier, though secure, re-
quired a constant muscular effort which became.
more and more distressing momentarily. “’hen it
relaxed, as it must at last, he must go down. More-
OVer the weight of the iiisensible girl was becoming
like and small as it was when halt sup orted in the
water. The bank was far too steep to c imb, except
by digging fingers and toes in its sides, and he was
too utter y exhausted to do that. Still the young
soldier despaired not. He had accomplished much,
and he determined on more yet.

First he shifted hands on the sword, and allowed
Therese to sink lower in the water, so that only her
face was out. Twining a tress of her hair on the
hand grasping the sword, he was enabled to rest a
moment.

Then he turned and shouted to the boy:

“Pierre! Pierre! Whatever your name is, hollo
there! Answer!“

b Tilie boy slowly rose on the spar, and feebly called
ac ':

“ Here, monsieur, nearly dead."

“Bali! you’re, worth twenty dead men 9 ," cried
Gerald, scornfully. “Don‘t be a coward, (ltd. Listen
to what I say. 1 our life and mine depend on it."

f “hilt'es, monsieur," responded the seeming boy,
ee v.

“ (Yome, come,” summon 'our courage, Pierre. I
saved your life by shoviiigt iat beam toward you.”

“ I)i( you, monsieur?“ asked l’iei‘i‘e, starting.
Then he rose up with more alacrity than he had yet
shown.

“Was it really you, monsieur, that pushed the
beam this way?"

“Of course. What. of it?"

Pierre threw a beaming glance of aflection and
gratitude at his dcliverer.

“Oh, monsieur le comte," then you have saved
me twice. Now, I am ready to die for on."

"Nonsense," said Gerald, sliarpl '. ‘ No drivelin ,
Pierre. I don't want your life. want you to he p
save mine. Be a man. Don’t behave like a girl. One
girl is enough to take care of.”

In spite of the cold and exhaustion, a crimson
blush came over the face of Giannina at Gerald‘s
words. This girl was a bad, brazen cleature or she
would not have been the mistress and too of the
villain Etioles, and yet there was something of the
an e1 still lurking in her debased nature, which
wa ened to sudden life at that moment. She saw a
brave, noble oun man, at whose destruction she
had conniv , an who, when her villainous lover
deserted her in the very moment of peril, had saved
her life. Now, in his unsus icious innocence, he
could not even rec nine the t n disguise whic hid
the sex she had dis onored so often; and Gian ' a

‘felt a thrill of debasement in the thought that if he

had he would have des ised her.

From that moment 3 e seemed a changed be _

“ Be tranquil, monsieur," she said, with sud en
calmness. ‘ I will obey your orders as well as I
know how." '

“Good,” said the young count, cheerlly. “You
are on that lece of wreck. Look round. Which is
the nearest 0 our”

Giannina loo ed round.

“The nearest is that broken tree. I can almost
touch it." .

“ Good. Now die in the water with "our
hands, and urge ur 5 ar there. So, very we . It
is a heavy piece of tlm r, and will hold us all. Get
on it. Now turn the lece you just left toward me,
1take good aim, and 8 love it this way with all your

orce."

Giannina did as she was bid, and the rugged spar
came 10 ling through the water, slowly but surely,
t-iilGera 's outstretched hand fell upon it. In an-
other moment he and Therese were resting on it,
and he uttered a fervent thanksgiving.

He was stopped b a warning ‘Ma " from Pierre,
who made a rapid n, pointing up to the top of the
bank, that some one approached. cowered
under the bank in dead silence. Gerald listened
with intense curiosity. He dreaded it to bean en~
orig; He hardl dared hope it was a friend.

ey heard ncgly the clatter of accoutcr-
meats, as a man cast mself heavily down on the
earth, and a well-known voice ed out:

“Ochonei Why did ye die, raid? did ye
die? I‘ll never see your like again—ohone n roe!
Olfl'iidimiii d ’ ch ki Cam

en 0 eep, o sobs of poor ll
broke on the stillness. Ge raised his h
Hea‘yenkin thanllltfulness. mm; to

“ac Cairo saved tooiGod beenvery
merciful.” ’ ' has

Then be elevated his voice, c ing:

“ Help, Jack, help, if ye ever oved me. We’re all
in the water, and tooweak to get up the bank."

In a moment the cuirassier was on his feet with a

stcntorian yell of dellfiht.
ringiflb hi And he ain’t

. hurrooi
dead. at all, at all onl ,the murdering
thieves! the dirty imkex’rsi We'll give them
Carroll before we‘ve done, for this day's work.”
Amidst all his exclamations, he was running up
and down thobmhpmparlngto help his kinda
withtho reading-atmoldainpdgner. Piece:
lib own bolt, and ovary thin unable

1

l
i

in haste, the de hted Carro
Irish lilt all the while.
Ten minutes after the whole

humming an old

rty was on the

‘ bank, gathered round the insensib e form of Therese.

Long and .perseVifi‘lllg Were their efforts, at last
crowned with success, for she opened her eyes, and

§ sighed just as darkness set in.

A: d almost at the same moment they were star-
tled by the sound of a horse’s feet, coming from the
rum' 3 of the mill.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
uonsnwn mom.

Is the gathering shadows of evening they could
distinguis that the approaching horseman was
mud‘led in along roquelaure, and rode a little fat cob.
From the absence of clinking weapons, it was evi-
dent that he was a civilian.

Gerald uttered a joyful exclamation as,'_he distin-
guished the well-known outline.

h“ Monsieur Arouet, it is you? Thank God. for
t at!"

“Who is this thanking God for being blown up?" asks
ed the high, sarcastic voice of Arouet, in his c nlcal
manner. “ It seems to me that he has not le t you
much to be thankful for, except life, and that is not
to be envied, if one is crippled.“

Carroll looked up with amazement.

“ Who the divil are ye, ye blasphamin’ haythen, so
ye are? It’s little your hi'e’s worth if ye hold thim
opinions. Doesn‘t the raste tell us to be thankful
for our marcies, and vent we saved ourselves
alive, when a hundred poor cr’atures were blown to
smithereens before our eyes?"

“ An Irishman, by the sentiment," exclaimed
Arouet. “I can not see thee in the dark, my brave
fellow, but I‘ll swear ’tis an Irishman one of that
nation of giants that lets the priests lead them all by
a hook in the nose."

Carroll was about to reply angrily, when Gerald
laid his hand on his arm, and whispered:

“ ‘Tis a friend, and he does not know us. Flash."

Then turning to Arouet, and disguising his voice,
he asked: 4

“ Who are you, monsieur, and what seek you .9"

“If I were to mention my name, friend, you would
all know it, for it has made Europe ring. At pres~
cut. I am plain Francois Arouet, and I am search-
ing for the remains of a little investment, which, 1

‘ fear, has departed to the skie s.”

Arouet spoke in his usual cynical, sneerlng tone,
but there was an under-current of anxiety in his
manner, as he continued:

"Who are on, messieuis? Have you, like me,
come to view t ese horrible ruins! Are you French
or enemies?“

“If we were enemies, monsieur, you would not
have been safe so long,” said Gerald, smiling.

“ Oh, I do riot know," said Arouet, carelessly. “ I
am a non-combatant and not liable to seizure. So
much law I learned in the days of in youth. But
if you are French you must know whe er any were
saved from this explosion besides Etioles and his
troo i.”

“ at?" asked Gerald, eagerly, “were they
saved?” '

“For exam le, what a question!" cried Arouet.
mockingly. ‘ Is the Baron d’Etioies a man to be
blown up? More likely to blow up others, as I fear
is the case. Yes, he is safe. But have you seen or
heard anything of the commander of the post, one
Count Desmond l"
si“Have you a great interest in the count, mon-

eur?"

“Eh, pm'bieu, I should think so. If he is dead,
33dth thousand francs are gone to the skies, in-

“ Well, monsieur, he lives, and I am he."

Arouet uttered a shrill “ cacr—r-re mm," and bun-
dled oi! his pony in less time than one would have
believed ibie. The next moment he was hug-
ging Ge (1 with an impetuosity that belied his pw
vious cynical tone, crying out:

“ If brave boy, ,it is thou indeed better than
fifty t ousand francs to old Arouet Thanks to the

God, that even the priests can not hide from

be people."

“ ut, Monsieur Arouet," said Gerald, vely,
“ you know not who else is here. saved by same
merciful God."

He related in a few brief words the arrival of
Therese the explosion, and their escape, and con-
signed the young lad ' to the charge of her old friend.
just as she recove her full senses.

Two hours later, a party of four people on foot,
surrounding a lad on a little ny, entered at 5.
remote wing of t e Chateau uram, which had.
been amiimed in advance by the grand chamber
lain as the residence of the “court historiogrr
pher," during the king‘s s at Tournay.

The lady was taken on er horse, and tenderly
handed in o the anteroom by old Arouet, who lock.
ed the door when his friends were adm1tted.

“It is well- fortunate, my friends ” said Amulet
rubbing his hands, “that I conciud
king by a (lady), and that his mama allowed it.
Otherwise, I ould not have heard. e explosion
and ridden over to inquire about if? and you would
not have been saved so nicely. As t is, nameme.
you are all dead, till I give the word. For you, mon-
sicur le comtc I have your word and bond to obey
my orders. or on, my pupil, I trust to your
honor. For you, onsieur Carroll, I know you will
not dibo madomoiselle. I know win
not speak. Hold, my friends, I iuw a plan which!
wiilnot tell you yet. It is supposed on are all
dead. Itisbest ou should seem so,
night. Meanwth the historian to his
room and to spare at our service."

While he was upon ng, the old muemnn was
bustling about from one room to no r, repuing
quarters for his unexpected visitors. L , as he
haduid hehad room and to spare, though tu- on,
for the chateau was nearly live hundred feet long.
smiths soon had them comfortably settled for the

l“ftwillthus not behardforthereudarto at
tint wunooordingtotho‘wllylchmctAgIt,

 

 

it

 

 

16

The Irish Captain.

 

 

r

made their a rance at the “little supper,“ to
which we can erefore return.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
ms Alum.

Housman Anon-r was, before all, an intriguer
and it need not be wondered at that he concealed all
knowled of his little lan from Madame Antoi-
nette on fie day of the “ ittle su per." .

He had fitted out Gerald an Carroll, with the
more readiness that the bagg e of the former had
been discovered, almost un n ured, in the \ oods
near the site of the old camp, where it had been
several hundred yards from the explosion sheltered
b woods. Tzue, the animals were all killed by the
s but the heavy leathers trunks had protect (1
their contents from the straggling grass fire, and the
uniforms were unhurt. '

Business-er in all things, Arouet had drawn up
an exact account of his expenditures, for which by
made Gerald sign an acknowledgment, which the
soldier readily d d to oblige this strange compound
\f op te qualities.

In t evening the all went to the “ little su r,"
as we have seen, an raid soon found himse sep-
arated from his companions by the crowd.

The young omcer w sin a strange state of mind
when he arrived at the ball. All da long, since the
previous midnight, he had sle t t e deep sleep of
utter exhaustion' and his facult es, before confused,
Vere now quite c ear.

Prominent over all other feelings was a burning

ire for revenge on the persons who, he was satis~
fled, had attempted his life b the basest treachery.
Carroll had explained to in all that was before
obscure, and he realized that Etioles was at the head
of his enemies. He ‘ id not yet know the full extent
of the plot, nor its causes.

In a state of fiery but suppressed excitement be
entered the hall that evening. He had not seen he-
rese all day; the wily Arouet havln carefully kept
them asunder till the moment for eparting. when
nothing between them but a formal salutation,
before 0 hers. Gerald was far from suspecting what
Therese had done for him. Carroll. in all his confi-
dence, had avoided mentioning her name. The loyal
Irishman was jealous of the smallest detract on
from the ity of the lady he adored as a superior
bein , and raid was too modest and simple to sus-
pect er of any such thing as a passion for himself.

Thus, when the crowd swept him away from his
fliends, he had but one objec in view, to find Etioles
ard to punish him. He wandered here and there
in the crowd, searching for the uniform of the cam-
bineers and whenever he saw such an officer, he
came close to him, and tried to ascertain his identity,
in s ite of the masks worn by all. Many times was
he gin iuted, and still he went from one to the
other, he found himself close beneath the royal

when his attention was attracted by a scrap of
conversation between two officers of Musketeers.

“ It is understood. The king proclaims her to-
night. He has taken a new mistress at last, and La
Tournelle is fo otten."

“And who is t, this time?”

“The little Poisson, the butcher‘s daughter, who
married Etioles, nephew of Le Normand, the farmer-
general.“

“Her! 316716“! why, she is not even noble.”

“The king will make her noble. Pompadour will
be revived. You know the old title has been in abey-
ance for long."

“ But was there not a lover, somewhere? Some
Irishman? I heard so.”

“ Paroleu yes. I ought to remember him. Etioles
and the duke set three of us on him and his friends,
and we got the worst of it. I limp yet from the
thrust I got then."

Gerald felt a thrill of excitement. He recognized
the voice of his old antagonist, St. Foix. What did
all this mean? He did not turn his head, but contin-
ued listening intently. St. Foix uttered a low, mock-
lng laugh, as he continued:

Yes, morblou, but Etioies was too much for him.
They say he was blown u in hat mill, by Etioies‘s
orders. He is a in fe ow, tioies.”

“ Swim .’ I shoui think so. The king must make
him Governor of India, at the least, to heal hls
wounded honor."

Both the Musketeers burst into a scornfnl laugh at
this, which instantl died away, as a low, smooth
voice said, close to t em:

“Take care, messieurs. You are jestlng on seri-
ous “:11,  led sharpl d 'a d beheld the

w ee roun n
pastrariatocratic featuresy of Richelieu, unmasked,
while beside him he recognized with fierce exultation
the figure of Etioles.

The Musketeers, overwhelmed with confusion,
bowed low and backed awafii muttering incoherent
excuses. Gerald, his mind a whirl of confusion
was et sensible of a sudden bush in the hall and

up, saw the entrance of the king and the
scene we have described ending with the pro-

clamation of the Marquise e Pompadour, and the

disclosure of the face of Madame Antoinette.

Then the whole truth burst on him at once and
he realized that the el of his dreams, the idol of
his heart, was none ot er than the wife of Etioles,
and the base creature who had sold her honor to the

echanically he followed the exam 1e of the rest
and unmasked. As he did so, his Kerce lare of
mortal anguish and hate his eyes 0 Etioles.
Its effect was immediate. \

The baron uttered a hoarse cry, his eyes distended
with horror and he fell to the floor, shaking in an
attack of epi y. In the midst of the confusion
that followed, Gerald stood stupidly-staring at his
foe, conscious of an thing but a dull sense
of pain. 0 was awaken by the voice of St. Foix.

' Monsieur, I arrest you, in the king‘s name."

Richelieu looked at him, smiling sardonically.

.——.—

CHAPTER xxx."
11!: oanxa of summer.

Tn nd ofhea nshadbeenro ~ inces-
mirmfiymdylfifm mo . of 11th
Mam. m5, announcing that a gene

 

“takingflace in front and around the village of Fon-
noy.

In the apartments of the royal historiographer, at
the extreme left wing of the Chateau Gauram, a
young omcer of carabineers was sitting, in an atti-
tude of deep dejection, listening to the sounds of the
cannon. It was none other than Gerald Desmond,
under arrest since the evening before, on charges
preferred by Richelieu.

Near Gerald, aclng up and down like a caged
tiger, listening the same cannonade, was Jack
Carroll, also under confinement.

The Irish cuirassier‘s offense was that he had in-
terfered when his friend was arrested, and had
almost drawn his sword in the presence of the king.

“ Ah, bad luck to yei" growled Carroll, furiously,
as a more than usually heavy discharge shook the
windows of the Chateau Gauram, “it s fine times
ye're havin', all to yerselves out there. And to say,
when the ould b ado gets face toface with the
cursed Sassenachs, or the first time since the Boyne,
we're both tied here like two hos ital nurses, listen-
ing to the guns and waiti for t e stretchers. Ah,
Gerald, Gerald, 'twas a b day for us, when ye went
out roaming beyond bounds in the forest at Fontaine-
bleau, and saved the life of that painted jade that’s
betrayed us both."

Gerald made no answer. His head sunk lower and
lower. At that moment he wished for nothing in
the world but death on the field, and even that was
denied him.

“ And that Etioles, too," continued Carroll, bitter-
ly; “to think that the mean scoundrel who sells his
own wife for court favor, should now be on the field.
when we‘re here. Oh, but the day of reckoning will
come yet, for us two! We've both been fools, I worst
of all , to ve the dog his life, to lease that sister,
that ook so pure. Ah, diuoul.’. I”

The stout cuirassier shuddered all over with strong
fu , and his face grew purple. Carroll, too, was
disl lusionized, for he had fallen down and worship-
ed Therese, and now‘he felt that he could not but
suspect that she was soiled by that foul and corrupt-
ed court. Sister to Etioles, sister-in-law to Pompa~
dour, what else could she be? Carroll groaned in
agonyI at the thou ht.

To is surprise, erald looked up for the first time.
His face was pale as death, but he spoke ill a low,
firm voice:

“Sir John Carroll, don‘t presume to connect with
this plot the thought of Mademoiselle Le Normand.
The man that illsinllates dishonor to her, lieu."

As he sEioke the last word, he slowly rose up, and
stood loo ng at his friend with a fixed and menac-
ing stare.

As for Carroll he fell back several steps, petrified
with surprise. his was so great as to mas r even
his indignation at the tone assumed b Gerald.

“Holy Mother of God!” he ejacu ated, “are ye
stark wild? when ‘twas only two days ago ye tr‘ated
her like a—"

“I know it,“ said Gerald, interrupting him; “ but
since that, Jack Carroll I’ve lived ten years."
“Ten years?" said Carroll, innocently.

’twas only forty-ei ht hours, Gerald.“

“ Carroll,” said esmond, solemnl , “ a man may
live ten ears of suffering and ex ence in a night.
I have one that since m arres . Listen. When I
entered the hall/of the C ateau, last night, I was a
boy, burni for revenge on Etioles. I thought he
was my riv in her love; I dreamed she was a prin-
cess I; thought of every wild thing that a young
man‘s brain could think of; I thought of everythin ,
except the truth. I heard St. Foix and his com e
talkin of the king’s new mistress, and a moment
later ound who i was. In that moment, I found
that I had 10ved—what—a woman of the street,
driven to vice by want?—a woman sinning for love?
No—a creature 21gb in every gift of God and man,
beautiful, talent ,rich,.yet-—a purchased mistress
to a thin without brains or beaut , king though he
be, foul by a hundred low intl gues before, and
selling horse f to this creature 'or a rice! In that
moment, Carroll, with a flash ike lglltning, I saw
Therese Le Normand, in my mind's eye ure as an
angel ill the midst of a foul family, all saw that
she had loved me. And 1, tool that I was had
thrown away a diamond, in the darkness of my
ignorance, to clutch at a corpse shilling from its
own putrefaction. Let it pass ack, let it ass.
My e es are open at last. Let t em strike me rom
the l st. Let them degrade me and shoot me. I
have fallen below disgrace in loving that woman.
But, Jack, never brea he a word against Therese
Le Normand. She is too goodfor any of us to speak
of. I'll stake my every hope of future salvation on
hen purity. "

He turned away, and sunk in the at arm-chair
again, and a deep silence reigned in t e room. Car-
roll was com letely sobered and silenced before the

eater grie of his friend.

After a little while longer, the cannonade became
less frequent, and they could hear the distant rattle
and growl of volleys of musketry. Carroll began to
fidget about again. _

‘ An attack," he muttered. “ 0h, Hol Mother
if we were only there! Where the div can old
Arouet be? He romised to do all he could to get
us out for the ba tie."

Gerald made no answer and Carroll pursued:

“ I wonder who the ould chap can be Gerald? He
seems to be mighty powerful about t is coort, any-
way. D'ye min how grand he spoke to the officer
that was taking us to t e prison, when he asked him
who‘d be responsible for our safe-keeping if he
turned us over to him? ‘I will,’ says he, as if he‘d
been the king himself. ‘Is that enough, monsieur?
Tell it to Rlchelieu, to the king himself, if you
please.’ And St. Foix bows to the ground, and says,

“ Sure

 

" There is some confusion existing in the contem-
porary histories as to the exact date of the battle of

ontenoy, arising from the change which occurred
about that time from “old style" to “new at le,"
or from the old Julian calendar (so called from ullus
Ctesar, it‘s romuigator to the G orlan calendar,
as rectifi by Pope re ory. “ ew style " was
adopted finally by most uropean nations in 1752,
but some confusion still exists amo the historians
of that century as to date on accoun of the change.
We have taken the 11th 0 May, 1745, as the best an-
thenticated date, by “new style," for the battle of
Fontenay. Under old style it was 27th of April.

 

‘If you are re nsible, all is well, mmsieur,‘ and
the ould chap es us of! without another word."

Gerald rose listlessly, and went toatable, on which
lay several books.

‘Do you really want to know who he is?" asked
the f'oung count, in a tone half absent, half melan-
cho y. “ long suspected it nowI uncertain. Look
there, and you will not wonder, for we are befriended
by the atest mind in France."

Carro i looked at the book which Gerald had
thrown open on the table. It was acopy of Racine‘s
tragedy of “ Andromache," and bore on the fly-leaf
these words:

“ Francois Maria Amet m: Von-runs."

Carroll started.

“ Valium!"

“The same, monsieur" said the sharp voice of
the great author himse f, just behind him. “ You
have been a long time finding it out but, in faith,
I‘did not lie when I told you it had made urope
nng-Vi

“But on called ourself Arouet," said Carroll,
gazing u idly at t e other, who had entered so
softly, tha they had not heard him.

“Arouet is my patronymic," said Voltaire, smil-
ing; ” that is to say, ’twas m father's name and I
took a surname, like the old mans, which be-
come somewhat well known. But ou seem de-
pressed, gentlemen. What think you I bring you
good news."

Carroll dropped on his knees before Voltaire, and
shouted out: ‘

“Oh, Monsieur Voltaire, I always said e were a
blackguard for talking bad of the prastes, ut by the
holy cross, if ye'll on] tell me I can get out of this
I’ll swear ye‘re a glut eman, with the last breath of
me , so I will."

Voltall‘e laughed heartily at the cuirassier’s queer
conceit, and spoke with unusual kindness.

“ Even the devil, that your priests terrif on
with, is not uite as black as they paian him
in their illunl nations, my friend. You may find
Arouet de Voltaire better than some of the priests.
I have been to Madame de Pomgadour for you—nay,
do not start up and frown like t at, mad lrelander—
I am Voltaire, that did not uail before de Rehan,
a prince of the blood. Smoot thy face, or I say no
more."

Carroll‘s frown changed to an expression of puz~
zled respect, as the fra figure of the poet and phi.
1080 her seemed to swell to his own vast dimensions,
at t e first sign of menace. The hi cuirassier bow-
ed low before the demonstration 0 pure moral and
dauntless courage in a feeble invalid and he said:

“Monsieur de Voltaire, I apolo ize: but I do not
like to owe favors to a king’s mis ress."

“ Ah, ball 1" said Voltaire contemptuously. “You,
with your airs of virtue, are. you a pure virgin? Out
on your creed that curses a woman for doing what
all men do! Which Would you rather, sta here, and
be shot in the mornin for treason to t ekl'n , in
dl'awin on a king'so ccr, or go out to a fielg of
honor, hrough t e kind intercession of madame 1e

uise? ’

Both Carroll and Gerald were silent, and the latter
looked at Voltaire in a sort of bewildered way.

“Madame has her faults,“ continued the great
poet, cwlically. “ So have we all. What would
you? e take the world as we find it. We have a
fool-—speak low, messieurs—for our kin . He needs
guiding. The good ueen is another foo ,and riest~
ridden at that. 'l he 'ing hates her. He mus have
mistresses. He will have them. We have iven
him a woman of wit, mind, and soul, one who oves
art and letters, one who loves France, one whose
first act has been to raise letters, in my person, to
court di ity. Well this lady, who has sacrificed
her 2 name for rance, progress, hiloso hy, has
unfortunately been the means of b nging ywo en-
tlemcn to harm. Messieurs, she is not a stone, his
woman, and if she were, there is an all el near her,
whose tears would melt a stone. Fina y, the ki
has found that others value her, and he sets a big
price on this new-found treasure. He will grant her
any thing. She has risked all I asking jar your
panic/1. The kin is jealous, but e has granted her
this. You are re eased from arrest. Here are your
orders to re rt to your sts. If you behave well,
every thing s possible. A ter the battle, you will both
be tried in the king's chamber, by the king himself.
is that enough?”

He handed them two folded papers. Each opened
his own. Gerald‘s ran:

“Captain Count Desmond is released from arrest
for one day, and will report for duty to the Duke of
Richelieu, at once. Loms R.“

Carroll's was as follows:

“ Lieutenant John Carroll, of Clare‘s Horse, is re-
leased from arrest for one day, and will report for
duty to his colonel, at once. Lows R."

Both were signed by the kl himself, but the
orders were in the handwriting o a lady. Voltaire
smiled cynically.

“ You soldiers are strange beings. Your eyes gilt-
ter with I10y, because I have brought you-a chance
toget ki ed. Go, then.”

 

CHAPTER XIII.
on rm: m.

Tm: Duke of Richelieu sat on his horse, almost
alone, about a hundred yards from a little hillock
surmounted b a mill, which commanded aview of
the whole bat le-fleld of Fonteno .

Close to the mill. and surrounded by a glitte
staff, one might see a fat dappie-gray horse, wi
docked tail, on whose back was bed the mean
little figure of the king. By his sh? on a horse of

t welght and bone, towered the coloaal form of
e leaning slightlguforward on a huge pillow,
whic was placed on saddle-bow.

The,old marshal‘s face was contracted with pain,
for his position in the saddle was a positive torture
to him, and at the moment there was no excitement
to make him forget the pain. In fact, there was,a
lull in the battle. ’

The king sat on his horse cracking jokes, for the
danger seemed over. Thrice the Eu lish and Dutch
had assaulted Fonteno and Anto e, thrice had
they fallen back in co usion before the murderous
fire of a hundred and twenty pieces of cannon, be-
hind heavy earth-works. Now there was a pane in
the carnage. .

 

 

 

  

“nu/WW Wm ‘ , -'. _
._._._____.,._l__.__ *7

A'_‘

 

 

 

‘*."M>uv '. ,

The Irish Captain.

, 17

 

 

“Fl done, nwnaleur 1c maredlal," said the king,

ayly, “ your English, about whom you make such a
fuss, are not much of fighters after all. See how
quiet they are.“

The marshal smiled a painful smile.

“Yes, your majesty. They are preparing an at-
tack elsewhere.“ I

“ Let them come," cried Louis scomfully. “We
will cut them to pieces with our ’Musketeers alone.
Wh , where is our wit, the brave Richelieu? He
abs. 1 make us a song about them."

“Richelieu looks grave your majesty. Perhaps
he is afraid,” su ested the young duke of Biron,
pointi at Riche eu. "

“Ric elieu is thereb my orders, monsieur 1e duc,

said Saxe, turning his iontllke face on the you top
in calm disdain. “If all y0u gentlemen o the

court had his brains, his majesty would be well
served, better than now.“

Louis laughed long and loud at the little retort.
The k' was, for once, in a ood humor. He was
elatedug being in a battle, an finding it leasant, so
far, thanks to Saxe's precautions in keep up; him out
of the fire. He felt like a hero. There was no

danger et.

“ Amish, let us sing,“ he cried, and forthwith the
complaisant courtiers struck up a gay drinking song,
somewhat broad in its allusions, wh ch was caught
up by the household troo in the rear, who stood
b their horses or loung on the grass, while the
c nkin of bottles told that they were enjoying
themse vea. The Musketeers, near by, trolled out
the jolly chorus:

“Touketi din-don ma Marlo,

Touketi din-don: ma iemrne, ma p‘tite verre.“

While the whole force of the Mariam du Roi was
gayly singing in the lull of the battle, a couple of
officers on horseback came galloping up from the
bridge of Colonne at the rear.

One of them, a tall, bony man, kept on without
stopping to the left, and was seen to reach the Irish
bri e, whence a rent cheer soon went up.

8 other broug t his horse on its haunches in
front of Richelieu, and silently saluted. It was Ge-
rald Desmond.

Richelieu looked coldly and steme at him; de-
manding: _

“ Who sent you here, monsreur? You were under
arrest." '

Without replying. Gerald handed him the king‘s
order, which the duke read with afiparent wonder.
Having finished, he handed it bac to Gerald, and
stared silently aft him. "0 I I'm

Present] is ace so he a r e.

“ If it is 3the king‘s order it must be obeyed. Who
gave it you Y”

“ Monsieur de Voltaire. "

Richelieu elevated his shoulders with an expres-
sion of ill-temper. _

“He will be meddling, this scrrbbler, and madame
believes in him. Well. I suppose I can make ou
useful. At all events you mayas well be kill as
an one else."

‘ That is certain,“ said Gerald, ffigidly. “ Before
the da is over you may be [ilad of the life of even
an Iris man between you ant death.“

Richelieu looked at him with more interest.

“ What do [you mean?" he said, quickly.

“ I mean t at the battle is not begun yet,“ said
Gerald. “ E lish troops don’t stay still long under
repulses. As left the Chateau Gaurarn, I could see

their lines forming, between Fontenoy and the
Wood of Barry.”

Richelieu started.

“ Do you can that? How many lines?"

“ Three, all red, but there are Highlanders among
them.“

“ One can not see them from here?"

“ No, the ravines hide them.”

Richelieu looked doubtfully at the young count.

“ Do you know you‘re a fine-looking soldier? It‘s
a ity you and I are enemies, monsieur le comte.“

‘ I see no need for it," said Gerald, boldly. “ You
gen lemen of the Pompadour clique ive yourselves
a t deal of trouble about a SOl( tor of fortune,
w 0 has nothing left but his honor. Do you seriously
think, monsicur is due, that Gerald Desmond would
condescend to use his influence with the mistress,
even of a king, to forward his fortunes at your ex—
pense? I swear to you, before God and in presence
of the cneruy, that I would not hurts. man of the
whole cabal now, not even Etioles, the crawling
worm. Let him fatten on corru tion, I‘ll none of it.
I would not stain my sword wit his vile blood. I
should be compelled to break it."

Richelieu looked at him with wonder and some re-
spect.

" You are a bold man, monsieur le comte, to ad-
dress me like that. "

“ I am a desperate man, monalmr le duo, with but
one wish left—an honorable death. You have lent
the power of the first houses in France to crush me.
Show me the way to an honorable grave to—day, and
I will say, ‘Thanks.’ "

“ You are young to wish to die. I am fifty, and I
find life sweet.“

“ Should I wish to live," cried Gerald, lndlgnantly,
“when you have dishonored my name by also ac-
cusations, so that all the glo I may gain on the
field will not avail to shield me rom . c Jun-martial,
at which Etioles will bring a dozen perjured men to
swear away mv reputation? There is but one way
to save it, and that way is to die in arms in sight of
the army."

Richelieu raised his hat. His selfish, callous heart
was touched by the desperation of this young man.

“Monsieurlc comte,’ he said “ I am very sorry
we have been enemies. As for tloles, you. mistake.
He, um some one. yestcrd 1y mmning. Now, he is
nothing. [Tu p of is played. Take the word of Ar-
mand de Richelieu for this: Do your duty to—difi,
and you have made a friend of an enemy. After ,
France is first.’

He was interrupted by the boom of a. heaeviy gun
from the redoubt of Fontenoy, almost imm lately
followed by one from the opposite fort of Barry.

Richelieu broke off, and assumed in a moment the
demeanor of an officer on dut cold and severe.

“ Honsieur lo cOmte," he “ gallop down and
see what they are firing at. come back and

H

Illa tl minted, and than dashed of! full
Ayuloadseemedtohavebeenlifted

still they mowd on.

 

from his heart by the words of Richelieu. He no
longer felt the depressing consciousness that his
every step was over pit ails. Such a sense will
render the bravest man either timid or desperate.

Richelieu walked his horse up the hill, and Saxe
came to meet him. He h Biron make some jest-
in “remark to the king, to which his majesty re-
p :

“ I am sure the marshal will do all that is neces-
sary but I shall stay here.”

“ Well, duke, what is it?" asked Saxe gravely.
The ain had rm his face, to be replaced by an ex-
press on of anxiety.

“The crisis is coming," replied Richelieu. “The
English are massing their forces to pierce between
Fontenov and the wood. Count Desmond has seen
them formi .“

“ Count esmond!" ejaculated the marshal.
“ \Vh , he was under arrest. Who has released him?"

” Midame," said Richelieu, quiet] . “She has
filled in two of the blank orders from t e king. in her
own hand. Carroll is out, too."

“I am glad of it."

“ Humph! So am I, for reasons.”

“.What reasons i"

“ That we shall want every man we have to fill the
gap between our redoubts."

‘ Then you think they are coming, seriously?"

“ I know it. The are in three lines."

‘étlgleiver mind. ey will find it hard to pass the

a l

“Marshal, they will pass them. Listen."

First one un, then another, thundered from the
redoubts, a ut a mile apart, that covered the ga
in the French lines. The two redoubts were wra
in white smoke, which hung in a dense cloud a ve
them, through which the red flashes incessantly
darted, answering from right to left.

Of the enemy nothing was to be seen or heard, as .
t

ye .

“Order forward the French Guards” said Saxe,
sudden] . “Stop, have you sent an ofiicer to recon-
nolter?‘ '

“Count Desmond has gone."

“Good. Send him to me when he comes back."

“ I will if he comes,” said the duke, emphatically.
Then he bowed, and dashed away.

 

Gerald Desmond gallo red down the slope of the
little hill with the windrni l, and found himself in low
ground. Before him there rose a gentle slope, which
shut out any further view till he had mounted it.

,Spurring his horse—a splendid dap is gray, cross-

bred between the heavy ormandy c arger and the
recently imported Barb—he soon reached the top,
and saw before him the whole panorama of the En-
glish forces. -

A shallow ravine, the remains of an old sunken
road, ran down into a plain below, which was cov-
ered with troops, against a bac round of green,
dotted wirh the white tilts of an ense wagon-

ram.

Across this plain, and within ashort distance of
the broad ravine, came steadily marching three lines
of infantry, in the stiffest order of- parad with
slo (1 arms, in perfect silence. The redou ts on
eit 1er fiank were firing at them without repl , but

Even as rald looked, sev-
eral gags appeared in the front ue, as a salvo of
cannon- ails swept through them. Ere he had time
to notice it, the gaps closed, and the line moved on
without a pause.

Bright scarlet coats, with white faci were in
the front line, the second, and rt of the d; but
on the flanks amd the dar laids and waving
tartans of the lg nd regimen chief of the
{Emails Black-Watch, to receive its baptism of ood

a. ay.

Without beat of drum or sound of trumpet, the
English attack pressed silently, grimly forward.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE cor.an or manner.

Gan.an Dasuosr) paused but a moment to look at
the English line. then dashed forward along the
crest of the broad ravine to reconnoi er more close-
ly. The nearer he drew, the more was he struck
with the imposin appearance of the English. He
noticed, in t reir ront, and already sheltered by the
low ridge, six brass fieldv ieces, bright and burnish-
ed, drawn by hand with ong re s, the cannoneers
marching grimly alongside wit stolid faces, as if
they were passing in review.

Looking over the plain behind the long lines of
infantry, he could see the gleaming sabers of a
strong force of cavalry, drawn up in equally stiff or-
der and halted, as if to watch the fight.

6 could not hel a certain feeling of apprehen-
sion as he turned his gaze once more down on the

 

infantry. .
Part of the first line had already red the ra-
vine, and in order to pass, had been pelled to

break into a column of the breadth of two full
battalions. The plain below was still swept b a
fearful fire of round shot from the French redou ts
of Fontenoy and Barry and, in the midst of this
fire, the second and third lines called a halt, to allow
time for the first line to break. 0

By this time, the young captain had arrived at
the edge of the ravine, so close that he could almost
disti tab the features of the enemy bel0w.

Sti and silent as if on Parade stood the 10 111188
of gre ers, each line our ranks doe . e offi-
cers had not even drawn their swo a. Instead,
they mrrled canes, and with these they were P0109
mg calmly to their men, as they gave the usual
parade orders:

Eyes ht! What are you doing, Private Jones?
Dress up, s rrahl Steady! Frontl’

Boom! boom .’ bom.’ went the guns at Fontenoy,
31111:; by batmrm and the iron swept like a storm
through the scarlet ranks. Not a movement or
tremor was seen. Again the stern orders rung out,

Close up! Eyesrlg t!" and silentl the menshlftc
ed over and closed up the pa. dark tartans
of the Highland regiments ormed a heavy cloud on
either flank, and naturally they w most
to the fire. Gerald looked at th m, and saw be-
hind them along train of dead bodies on the plain,
marking the track they had come. They were

gaggle? gig, with than Iguaketa at an m, resting
a s an exposed to

the storm of canal. Mthout Bin '
The young gave a shudder-ache looked.

   
 

 

“ My God!" he muttered, " whatwill Girl-oops do
when they meet those men? Not a regiment in
France would stand like that, under such a fire."

The first line had broken, and was ow a broad
column, solid and massive, filling the ollow wag;
from side to side. The second line was beginning
follow. The third stood patiently waiting to turn.

Its men had ceased to close up at last.

Like the Highlanders. they stood u doggedly,
with ordered arms, and met their deat without a
murmur. The only moving figures among that
scarlet line of 'm statues were the mounted offio
cers, who walke their horses u and down in front.
Every now and then one was illed, or a horse felli
dead under its rider. If the'latter was not slain or
cri pled, he remained in front of his men.

ot a straggler could be seen going to the roar.
Where the wounded fell, there they lay. Discipline
had turned these men into iron.

Suddenly Gerald started, and looked at his watch.
He had fo¥otten the lapse of time.

He foun that he had been watc the English
attack for an hour and a quarter. t was almost
noon, and the third line was at last breaking into!
column to enter the ravine.

He turned his horse, and rode along the edge oi
the ravine. It was pack d full of troops from end
to end, the tall grenadier caps of the En lish and the
towering black plumes of the Highlan ers mo
on with the same regular swaying motion. The
tramp of the marching column echoed from _Iide h
side of the hollow way, with a more solemn and im
posing sound than if they had been accompanied by
albthe blai'e of martial music. pod

rim si ent, om nouso vengeance, tram stead
lLv on the “ Column of Fontenoy."

With a sense of ove wering anxiety, Gerald
dashed the spurs into his orse and flew to bringthe
newsto Richelieu. When he was within a hundred
yards of the head of the column, the fire from the n~
doubts ceased

He knew the meaning of that. _

The whole of the column was at last in the hollow
way, and out of range of the French guns. Von»
geance was coming.

Again he lanccd the sides of his charger, and tore
alo . He was at the head of the ravine at last, but
not fore the enem . Before he could t there,
he saw their field arti lery emerge from t e mouth
of the pass and go into battery om the crest of the
dividing rl e, behind which was the French army.

A momen later, they opened furioule

Gerald utters a we of anxiety. W at if he. had
stayed too long? e feared he had, for he must
passagrough the English battery to get back to his

men .

Nay, worse than that.

Be ore he can reach the head of the ravine, one,
two, three broad lines of men stolidly tramping
along, haVe eme ed on the upland!

f HtsI must pass y their flank, within a hundred
ee

Setti his teeth, he spurred his horse for the last
time, an shot away ah . A moment later, he was
abreast of the fourth of these solid battalions, and
glanced down the rigid and perfectly dressed lines.
of white cross-belts, on scarlet, below the tall white
and gold fronts of the grenadier caps. Four ranks
were there, each as straight as a plum-line, with
gleamlr¥ muskets sloped back, shaven faces looking
grimly orward.

Nota man turned hishead as the French ofilcer
galloped by.

A general officer on a gra horse gave him a care
less glance, as he passed, en turned to his men
“airless “h... “L am. sir

0 one mp ee our men ,
You‘re not in the militia. x(Elise u .“ \

Gerald galloped on t the column, through the
batterly,_and out into t 0 plain, unchallenged. Notc
man argued to notice him.

They were after higher game, in the terrible Col
umn of Fontenoy.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
'rns: mrsn BRIGADE.

A snoop of ofiicers was gathered in front of
Irish Bri ads, talking to each other in low ton on r
gestlcula in with the a pearance of sup ex-
citement. he were t e colonels of e different
regiments an conspicuous among them was the
gray head and mart al figure of Lord Clare, senior
colonel and brigade commander. Dillon, who led
the first regiment of foot, was talking earnestly to

run.

“ We ought to be closer up, in lord. It’s my be-
lief that t e blackguards are eh‘ind the hill now.
Hark the firing from the redoubts has stop?
Yes told ye so. See the gtms oing into bat ry
on the crest. The time has come. ’

Bang! bang! bang!

Three clouds of white smoke, three red flashes
from the crest of the swell, announce that tht enemy
have reached the French center, and commenced
their attack.

Below them, in the lain between the mill and the
ravine, are arranged camps of French infantry,

ng's Own is on the right, Aubeterre next,
then Courten, then the four battalions of the French
Guards, last the scarlet coats of the faithful Swiss.
The Irish are drawn far back, nerr the wood of Bar.
11, abreast of the mill where the king is stati med.

‘ There 0 the Guards at them,“ cries an omoer.
“ Now you see fun, gentlemen.“

Two of the four battalions of French Guards undo
denly started forward at quick—step and swept over
the tgrain, toward the battery which had ust opened. .
As ey moved, three more guns went nto battery
on the lefglofthe lish,andbegantcfire.

A wildc eer broke from the Irish brigade at the
%Their blood warmed as the battle opened.

ntly, out of the En lish battery comes a.

apntmfl' t at]; l:les “1 ts} gallop. They see

in e n o e uards, wav his.
hat, and a second cheer bursts out. inc

Every one can see that this horseman is a Frvmh
officer for he wears the white coat and crimson fac-
ings o a carablneer.

‘ Whoop! hurroo! Gerald Desmond, by the Holy
Cross!“ yells a voice from Clu-e’s regiment. :n a.
wilder yell goes up from the impatient bflflzfiand:

arlotousmov tot Th 
  K

18‘

Thilfiéh Cavem-

 

 

A:

 

 

Lord Clare rides back and holds up his sword,
shouting sternly:

“Steady, Irish, steady! You’ll have work soon
enough! Silence in the ranks!”

Like rebuked school-boys, the soldiers fall back
into the ranks, and only a hoarse murmur of impa-
tilfnce gives token of the smothered fury that rages
-t ere.

Patience, old brigade, your turn is coming.

Gerald Desmond is seen to dash up the hill and
salute the marshal. Then they see that Saxe throws
awa his illow from the saddle and gallo s of! to-

wa An oine. Now all eyes are turnei on the
French Guards. Steadily they sweep Oil, quickening
their pace to a run. Up the ill they charge in the
face of the artillery, With a loud cheer. - A rattling
volley, the cannon are silent, the crest is crowned,
aid over the hill go the Guards, in a line of fire and
smoke.

Again the savage murmur breaks out from the
Irish bri adc. The Guards are out of sight.

Then, rkl Whatisthat?

A sharp sound, like a clap of thunder, so close
and loud, so true and regular, it seems impossible
that it can be a volley.

But it is a volley.

One, two, three, four cla i Then a silence as of
death. A moment later, t e hill-top is covered with
flying figures, as the French Guards, scattered and
ruimlng for their lives, come streaming down the
hillside, a disorganized mob.

Again the regular red flashes, again the white
clouds, and the liberated guns reopen on the fugi-
'tives.

Then silence. No more shouti now. The Irish
tr: silent too. They know their t e is coming at

t

A moment later, the English I are limbered up,
and come tearing down the hi toward the French
lines in the plain. The latter are all in commotion.

The Kin '5 Own and Aubeterre are running to the
center on t c double— nick, to meet the enemy they
have not yet seen. T e crest of the hill is again bare.

And then, on a sudden, a yell of such deadly fero-
city that the blood curdles to hear it, bursts from
the Irish brigade; for over the hill, rank on’ rank,
in scarlet, white and gold, comes the column of
Fontenoy, moving down to the plain with a solid

tramp.

After that one yell, a silence as of the grave, as
the men, with pale, set faces, com ressed ips, and
eyes flashing with fury, p the r arms and wait
for the word to advance. e sight of that lordly
column has struck the conviction to every heart that
no wild attack will shake it. It must be met with
discipline as iron as its own.

Now the King‘s Own and Aubeterre come sweep-
ing on at a run. Courten, the Swiss, and the remain‘
der of the Guards are before them burnin to
avenge the defeat of their comrades. n come th
lines. Biron, and the young Count de Chabannes
are gallo ing along in front, frantically urging the
men to " ee the ranks dressed."

The impos ng order of the English has taught
” their foes a lesson of discipline.

On go the French, at a run, breaking into cheers.

The Column of Fontenoy moves on at funeral
time silent as death. Something in that solid front
checks the French. Their pace slackens without
an order, the cha e lessons to a trot the trot to a
walk, and at last t ley come to a de stop at fifty

ces from the English. The ofl‘icers dashing along

he front, sensible of the sudden halt and silence,

turn, and find themselves face to face with the Eng-
lish ards and the towering black plumes of the
H' h anders.

e French, without a word of command, dress
up their ranks, in imitation of their unmovable
foes, and the English column halts. Then the two
lines stand looking at each other with a fixed stare.
OrAe {polls as if there were nothing but eyes there.

n t en—

A strange thin occurs.

Milita life is ull of formal courtesy and its in-
stinct 0 habit, stronger than nature, breaks out
there.

Facing the death that looks from those lines of
eyes, the high-bred nobles who are officers can not
forget their manners. The full uniforms of both
sides increase the illusion. It seems only a gigantic
parade.

De Biron and Chabannes on one side, Albemarle
and Churchill on the other, mechanically raise their
hats and salute each other. In a moment every
officer in front has followed the example.

Following that a. dead silence, broken by an Eng-
lilsih colone ,‘ who rides out, removes his hat, and
0 es:

“ Gentlemen of the French Guards, please to fire.“

A French officer bowln , answers: .

“ We never tire first. F re you, gentlemen.“

The compliments were over. Death only re-
mained.

Down came the front rank of muskets in that for-
mal column to a level. One, two, three, four! Like
sin le claps of thunder each of the four ranks deliv-
erefi its flre amid a rattling fusilade from the French;
and when the smoke blew aside, the French line had
vanished in a mob of dying men and fugitives.

Without shout or cheer the Column of Fontenoy
moved randly on down t e hill, and debauched in-
to the p in, while before it fled in confusion several
re ments of the flower of France.

he Irish brigade murmured loudly, and gnashed
their teeth wit rage, but the Column of Fontenoy
moved on. .

Gerald was with Richelieu near the king, who had
ceased to jest. The English cannon were firing

rain. and the balls whistled too near to be pleasan .
Gerald saw the sweat rolling down the face of the
king. After all, these En lish were worth more
than he had thought. Riche eu begs his majesty to

‘Lord Charles Ha Lieutrcolonel of the Foot
Guards. Carlisle has bored to throw discredit on
this story as to the form of words used, which he
insists were more banteriri‘ilg, on the testimon of

_ a supposed letter Charles Ray, wrl en
’ afterthe battle, but his letter is at least of more
dfiiabgfulmzuthenticit than the famousdstoryéeflrst
to ,wowu esena wro un-
-dOl' "Wt Sue. [gammy truths, it is
manger than fiction, and we insert it without apol-

 

retire across the bridge; that, his sacred person once
assured, he would answer for the battle. The king
sa s obstinately:

‘ No, I stay here.
ing them."

In fact, at that moment the King‘s Own and Au-
beterre char ed the left flank of the column cheer-
ing loudly. ‘ilently a single battalion wheeled out
from the English, delivered another of those wither-
ing volleys, and both regiments were scattered to the
winds.

The Column of Fontenoy moved on.

A little more and it would he at the mill, the
French army cut in two, the king a captive, if some-
thing was not done.

All officer comes galloping from Saxe. The king
must retire over the bridge, or the battle is lost

“ No," says Louis, obstinate-1y, “ I know he will do
all that is proper, but I stay here."

But the ‘olumn of Fontenoy moved on.

Richelieu beckons to Gerald, and dashes away to
the carabineers, who are drawn 11 near the Irish.
The are detached from the king‘s ousehold.

“ his must be stopped somehow," he mutters.

A few moments later, the solid gray squadrons of
the carabineers trot ponderously orward. The
earth trembles under their tread and at the sight of
the horsemen the great column halts. Gerald finds
himself in front of his own squadron, and sees
Etioles in command. He rides up, with pale face
and set teeth. Even the battle can not extinguish
his disgust and hatred for the man.

“Go,” he says, imperiously, pointing to the rear.
“ This is my squadron.”

E ioles, pale and haggard from his recent shock,
obe s silently, and the line thunders down.

S ent and motionless stood the Column of Fonte-
no . till the horsemen burst on them with a shout.

en rung out another of those awful volleys,

and rider and horse fell in hea is, rolling over and

over to the feet of the rigid nglishmen. Gerald

found himself almost alone one minute, the next,

gallo ing instinctively back in a knot of fugitives.
he c a 6 had failed.

Towar the mill, relentless as fate, the Column of
Fonteno moved on.

Now s outs are heard in front, and the bulky form
of Saxe comes galloping back. All pain forgotten,
his lion-like face lows with excitement. The battle
has cured him. e is bringing back reinforcements
from F0 teno and Antoine. The regiments of
Vaisseaux an Hainault are coming, and presently
open fire on the column. There is no more shouting
and enthusiasm now. The business is too serious.

Vaisseaux and Hainault in turn are swept by those
withering volleys, and break and fallback. But they
rally a little way off and retain their ranks.

The English halted (it last.

Saxe sat on his horse and watched them, then
turned to an officer near him. The column was then
within three hundred paces of the wall.
h“10rder forward the Irish Brigade.“ said the mar-
s s .

At this moment Richelieu, followed by Desmond,
galloped u to the king, who sat, with his face

inched an white, watchin the battle. In spite of
is obetinacy, he was tremb lng all over.

“ What news, monsieur?“ he asked, anxiously, of
Glfrlald, as Richelieu galloped past toward the mar-
s a .

Gerald’s eye was sparkling with excitement. He
had seen that the E lish were halted. He had also
seen the whole of the aison du Roi standing idly by
their horses, not a hundred yards back, with a strong
battery of artillery. And Gerald had a soldier‘s e e.
He forgot that he addressed the king of France. 6
only saw France in peril, and a chance tosave her.

“ at news!" he cried. “ The battle is ours
sire. Order up those guns that stand idle behin
the mill. Charge with the Maison du Roi, surround
gleniytvlth our troops, and the day isours. Look,

re .“ '

As he spoke, a tremendous yell attracted their at-
tention to the left of the army, and a magnificent
si ht burst on them.

he long line of the Irish brigade, in beautiful
order, was sweeping down on the right flank of the
English column, be lind the white and green stand-
ar 3 that proclaimed their joint allegiance to France
and Ireland. The two wings of Clare's Cuirasslers
rode on either flank, and the foot regiments charged
in the center.

For the last time pealed the sharp volleys from
the Column of Fontenoy, but not with the old
crusllin effect.

The ad met men of sterner stamp at last.

Wit a wild yell of ven eance that rose high ane
the roll of musketry, t e Irish B ade charged
home—ragged with gaps of dead men, ut invincible.

Amoment later t 0 mass column was rent with
the cold steel, and Clare‘s orse buried their long
ragiers at last in Saxon bosoms.

erald turned to the king, quivering with excite-
ment.

“ In God‘s name, sire, may I take the ns?"

The king hesitated, tremb ed like a lea , nodded.

Away went Gerald like the wind, and found Riche~
lleu grinding his teeth and watching the column,
whic was now wrapped in flame and smoke, telling
of a furious contest.

“ Well i" he cried, in a tone of fierce inquiry.

“ His majesty consents."

Richelieu wheeled round, and sped toward the
Maison du Roi, spurring like a madman.

Baily! ban .' bang! bang]! l .'

Four bro flashes four clouds of white smoke,
and the column of ontenoy was plowed in twain
with a horrible gap, piled with rows of corpses.
The reserve battery went into action at pistol-shot
distance, and every shot told.

A moment later, down thundered the heavy squad-
ron of the Maison du Roi on the front of the column.
Then came Aubeterre, ourten Hainault, Norman-
gy, King’s own, Penthievre, the Guards, Csrabineerscl

usketeers, Swiss Guards and all, beaten troops an
fresh, charfii together all round on the devoted
column of on noy torn with the artillery strug-
gling with the Mad brigade of Irish; and the day
was won. .

The Irish Brigade had turned the wavering scale,
and the column of Fontenoy was annihilated.

Richellouboohonod to Gerald androdeuptothe
‘9

See, my own regiment is charg-

 

 

 

king as he sat on his horse, the ground before iiim
covered with captured standards, a sullen crowd 01'
prisoners standin by.

“Sire,” said Richelieu, “I have a favor to ask
your majesty.” ‘

CHAPTER XXXIV.
moms in: murmurs.

IN amagniflcent boudoir in the Chateau Gauram,
reclining on a sofa of ivory and blue satin, lay
Madame de Pompadour, surrounded by every luxury
that heart could wish but wearing an expression of
anxious care on her ace. The wealth of the king
had transformed an old-fashioned turret chamber
into a miniature of her boudoir at Pan's; her dress
was exquiSlte, her sition assured, her beauty in
its mum, and yet e Marchioness of Pompadour
loo ed anxious and unhappy.

What was the reason? '

The booming reports that momentarily shook the
Windows of the chateau answered the uestion.

Fontenoy was still in ‘sus nse, and shat I“
She capture of a French ing, the fall of Pompa-

our.

Near the marchioness was Therese Le Normand
seated by a window, her face pressed ainst thl

ne, watching in silence. Every now an then aha

urned away with a weary sigh, and looked at the
Pompadour, with a moumful, desolate look. Then
you might see that her eyes were dry, her cheekr'
ushed with a feverish glow.

The next moment she would start and turn, t<
look out a in with the same hungry, desolate loch
which she ad worn for hours.

So the two women waited for news of the battle.

At last the hot cannonade ceased, and silence fol.
lowed. Therese turned to her , sister-in-law, and
spoke for the first time.

“T?hey have stopped, Antoinette. Is the battb
over " l

Madame had raised herself to listen.

“ How can we tell? I wish I were a man. Oh, ft
is maddening to lie here and listen, and listen, and
know that one's fortune depends on others. I wish
I were a man."

Therese shuddered.

“ And go out there? Oh, heavens, no. I was not
thinking of that."

“Of what were you thinking then mademoisellef“
demanded the marchioness, sharply. She felt in-
censed against eve one, in her gnawing anxiety.

“ l was thinking 0 Gerald Desmond," said Therese
simply and solemnly, “and wishing I were dead if
he were killed.”

Madame started u and began to ace the floor.
As she walked, her ace was very a e and t, but
she tore her handkerchief apart w th a nerv a mo-
tion. Therese watched her, quietly. '

For several minutes neither spoke. At last the

marchioness turned on her, excited] . speaking in a
low tone of exasperation, very rapid .
“What would you have, you, with your airs of
virtuei Am I to lame for every fool that falls in
love With me? What do you want me to do? Have
I not stretched in power to its utmost limit to send
him to the field 0 honor? The kin left me without
a fareWell, simply because he is jea ous. What more
can I do? S eak then. Do not sit there, with your
solemn eyes ook g reproaches you dare not utter!
What can I do?"

“Nothin now, God help us both. He may be
dead, for a l we know."

“And he may not," interrupted madame, impa-
tienay. Her face grew very pale, however.

“ ell well, what would you, if he comes back?
Quick, give it a name. I swear todo it, if only to rid
myself of your haunting eyes. Pardieu, Therese, I
shall hate you next."

‘:I do not wonder," said Therese, her dark eyes
filling with tears for the first time. “He is not the
onl one you have injured."

1 adame de Pompadour looked at her with glitter-
n eyes.

51 understand you, mademoiselle. I have injured

on, too I su pose, with the whole house of Le
thigmitipd, in t e person of your sainted brother. Is

1 ‘9

Therese drooped her head before the thrust. There
are moments when modest, shame-faced virtue is
abashed by the bold front of shameless vice. And
poor Therese felt that she was indeed disgraced in

he name she bore.

Suddenly she burst into tears, and fell at madame‘s
feet sobbing out:

“ch Antoinette, do not think me hard like the
rest. Iknow your temptations. Not 1011 have dis-
 me, but my own brother, Etio es. But, oh,

ntomette, grant me but one boon, only onel If he
comes hack—if he comes back—send him awa , send
me away send us all awa from this wick place
where live in torture daly. I do not blame you,
Antoinette. We are different. The cod nuns made
me unfit for this court, where every 1 ling is worldly.
You are happy here. Do send me away, and him
also, or they will make him had too."

The guilty marchioness looked down at the fgirl
with a strange expression. The anger in her ace
gave way to a look of deep pain and mortiflcation at

he artless words of Therese. Every one was a stab
through her brazen mail. She turned away and
walked to the window, whence she gazed out over
the landscape in silence.

Bitter thoughts crossed her mind. Potted and
caressed by the court, the first lady in France; yet
here was a little creature that she had tender] loved
in her way beggln to leave her forever, 3 win
in every art ess wo a repuggance that she ooul
not conquer, and asking her send away the only
man that had ever loved her trul . for fear of con-
tamination. Great and powe fu she was, she
felt that two people at least deep her. She had
read it in Gerald‘s eyes before the dais. She read it
in the words of Therese, now.

Then, as she gazed from the window, she became
sensible of something neither had noticed. Guns
had been boom again durl their conversation,
and she heard a cop, inceasan growl in the far dis-
tance, rattling louder and louder momentarily.

Presently a long train came streaming down the
road, men on foot, men on horses, wagons, all com.
ing rapidly toward the chateau. in advance

one
0 their
the moat. Ho

 

were several human, at full speed, stragan
after the other, according to the en
horses; and the foremost was close gm

. ‘ .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ch

The Irish Captain.

19

 

 

came thundering over the drawbridge, and a great
bustle ensued, as the guards ran out and clustered
round him. There was scant discipline in the Chateau
Gauram, for the king was away, and the queen was
not there.

The hussar seemed to be telling some story of the
field, for he gesticulated violently, frequently point—
ing up the road; and the crowd in front of the draw—
bridge grew .ater, while the anxious watcher
heard confuse cries from below. Madame de Pom-
padour turned pale. It does not need a veteran to
read the signs of a defeat. The train of fugitives
came rollin on past the chateau, the growling rat-
tle of mus ’etry came nearer and louder, and the
guns fired furiously.

Madame threw up the window and leaned far out.
The sounds came plainly to her ear from below.
Suddenly the hussar cried: ’

h “ Sauce qui peut.’ The English will be here in an
our."

Then he turned his horse and galloped away on
the road to Paris, joining the stream of stragglers.

I- The marchioness turned, with lpale face, to con—
front Therese, who had come 0 ose and heard the
last words. ‘

“Allis lost!“ she whispered, huskily. “We have
been defeatedi"

To her sur rise, Therese thrust her aside, and
listened, her ace earnest, intent and hopeful. The
young girl clutched the arm of t e Pompadour with
an unconscious force that buried the soft fin crs in
the flesh like claws of iron. She looked e one
inspined, as she cried out:

‘ It b false! Hark to the firing! It come: 110
mm. I have heard that sound before. The day
is not lost. He is there. Itell you, Antoinette, we
are not defeated yet.” ‘

Then the nature of the little one, modest and
shrinking in ordinary times rose to ts true sub-
limity in peril. The lood of the old race, that was
degraded in Etioles, reasserted its old heroism in
Therese, as she repeated:

“Antoinette, it is but the crisis. Victory hovers
aloof, but she cornea!”

The marchioness had lost all her courage. Trem-
bling and tearful she sunk at the feet of Therese.
They had changed natures.

“ Oh, Therese, God grant it!” she moaned. “ Only
prove our words true, and I swear to do anything
you h. I swear on 11'in alvation.”

h Wlith gleaming eyes herese held the crucifix to

er i .

“ Sigsear it ain,” she said, eagerly.

Madame de ompadour kissed the crucifix.

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
'rns 'rwo nonsauax.

Tun the two women staid by the casement, one
erect, proud, looking toward the l of smoke that
hungh over the_ distant field 0 Fontenoy, like a
prop etess awaiting inspiration, the other crouched

at her feet, clinging trembling to her hand, desolate,

des irlng.

T e din of that distant conflict grew louder and
louder till it seemed as if the air was never to cease
quivering, and still Therese stood watching without
a tremor.

Suddenly madame felt the hand she held contract
like a vice.

The firin grew louder a moment, died away again
and over t 8 air came the distant echo of wild an
Ion continued cheering, which grew louder and
ion er, till it Over wered the firing, and the latter

died away in a fit 11] cannonade.

Therese kept her eyes on the road. The strefim of
strag lers had stopped short. They had hea the

es ng.
Madame de Pompadour clun to Therese and
looked wonder-ingly up. The gir ’8 face seemed to
shine with inspiration, as she stood with her ii 8
apart, her eyes fixed in a stare of intense, unwin .
eagerness on the road.
he marchioness, sensible of the hush and cheer-
ing with a wild hope at her heart slowly rose up,
in) staggered to a chair, into which she sunk help-
ess.

She was amused b a sharp cry from Therese.

“ (Pat lui .’ Que disje? ’

(It is hei What said I?)

As she spoke, the distant cheering came nearer
and nearer. The long stream of straggiers vanished
from the road into the fields on either side, and. two
black‘dots could be seen coming rapidly down the
road from the Bridge of Calonne.

The black dots changed color as they came nearer.
They were horsemen on gray horses, dark with
foam. As they came the road was cleared before
them as if by magic, while the cheering grew louder
and louder. .

Now the watcher can see the horses straining
 between an avenue of shouting stragglers in
the aid. The nearer they come the more rapidly
they seem to fly. Now one can hear the clatter of
the orse-hoofs and see the uniforms of the riders,
the tter of cuirass and bridle-bit, the white coat
with crimson~and~gold facings.

A moment later and the drawbri e is covered
with a black sea of heads, and the c ateau rings
w‘th the cheerin , as the two horsemen come shoot-
1 1" over the g .

' doogb opens behind and Voltaire bolts in, wav-

his ha
mg‘Rejoice, madame, victory is ours! Richelieu and
Cougt Desmond are coming with the news. They

are ere."
Mada e de Pompadour burst into  Therese
gays nev a word, but leans hungrin m the win-

0 .
Thunder of hoofs on the drawbridge, a clatter be-
low, as gicéiaelielu and Gerald pull up on the pave-
me t an own.
Therese tux-Ids to madame with burning e co, disre-
gard'ii‘imeoltaire. She sweeps upto her an clutches
er .

“ We have won, " she whispers. “ Remember your
oath. Send him away.“

The marchionepa looks at her with a half-fright-
‘Onod air.

“Iwilltzs God hears me. He shall go with Vol-
taire to rlin "

Then comes 3 clatter of spurs on the stairs, a noise

in the auteroom and a servant o s the door with
m taco. "Mouseigneur eiieu, madame."

/

 

“ Admit him," says madame, straightening up I
with an eflort. I
Then Richelieu and Desmond enter the room. i

“ Madame la Marquise,” says the duke, with a pro— ’
found bow, “I have the honor to present the com- 
Eliments of his majesty and to inform you that the .

nglish are beaten an in full retreat, having lost ;
nine thousand men and forty cannon. I have also
the honor to resent to you my aide-de-camp, Mon- ,
sieur le Com D’Esmonde, whom his majesty has ,
promoted on the field for gallant conduct. Made- ‘
moiselle Le Normand, will you kind] take charge of j
the count and carry him tothe sa con? Monsieur
de Voltaire will stay. I have business with him and
madame."

What has come over Therese, the inspired heroine,
that she trembles and blushes like a school-girl, as
she advances to Gerald’s side and timidly whispers:

“Will monsieur be pleased to accompany me?”

Aiidehat ails Gerald, the fpale, desperate soldier
of the morning, only longing or an honorable death?
He too is con used as he offers the young lady his
hand and conducts her into the saloon, but one thing
they all notice. He neither looks at, nor bows to,
Madame de Pompadour, the first lady in France.

Richelieu closes the door and .comes back, the
courtly smile gone from his face. It is serious and
dignified.

‘ Look on, madame," he says, abruptly “and
you, Voltaire old scribbler of verses, I have changed
my mind to- ay. You, with all your wit, monsieur,
don’t know what a sold er is. I tell you, that young
man must not be sacrificed. Henceforth I am his
friend, for he is brave as a demigod. You think
that nothing, rhaps. Had you been with me to-
day, you wou d have changed our mind. Brave i
meagre not picked up on every ush. He must be i
sav . '

“ Monsieur, monsieur, who wants to hurt him?"
cries Voltaire in a peevish tone. “Parbleu, not i i
for I have in him an interest of twelve thousan
francs, for which I expect inter ”

“Aha, old usurer, ’ said Ric elieu, mockiugly;
“ so you have been speculating again. Parbleu, you
would not have given much for your investment at
one time today. Well then, we are in accord, but
what sa 3 madame? Is she willing1 to help save
this foo ish youth who stands in t e king’s light
to go away from here? That is his only safety, re-
member.’

“I have considered " said madame, in a low tone.
“He has no better f end in you than me, monsieur.
Monsieur Voltaire is going to Berlin. The king has
granted me so much. The count can go as his secre-
tary of legation.”

oltaire kneels to kiss her hand.
“ Grant but one favor more, madame, and I am

happy.”
‘ hat is that?"

“Twenty thousand francs of income " whispered
Voltaire. “ In a few years Monsieur e Comte will
be able to pay his debts to me.”

She smiles coldly. ,

“What is the amount, up to to-day, interest, usury
and all?"

Voltaire whispers a sum nearly double.

“ You shall have it to-night," she says haughtily.
“ Prepare for your journey, monsieur. e news of
Fontenoy will lease his majesty of Prussia."

Voltaire bac s out, and Richelieu is left alone with
madame.

“ After all, madame ” he sags, cynicali , “two
lovers are a oangerousluxury, one is a kgig.”

Madame answers bitterl : -

“ You put me here. C’oynsequently you are the
“master yet. My turn will come when my power is
are .”

 

 

r

 

CHAPTER xxxv I.

A EAST! WEDDING.

Two large travel carriages are waiting before
the principal ate 0 the Chateau Gauram, which is 2
all ablaze w th lights, echoing to the‘ strains of 1
bands, the buzz of aiay conversation and laughter, '
for a magnificent b is given in honor of the vic-
torv and all the world is there, or at least the court.

he kin has been raciously pleased toap int
Monsieur oltaire em assador to Berlin, an his
excellency is receiving his credentials before depart-
ing. There is a buzz concerning the embassador
and his secretary, a fellow nobody knows, exce t
that the king gave him the cross of St. Louis on t e
field of Fontenoy. ‘

While the chateau is full of guests and music the
little chapel at one end of the north wing is lig ted
up, and a priest and acolytes are waiting there with
an air of expectation.

The king’s apartments open into this chapel, and
a roup of people are gathered in the king’s cabinet.

is majesty himse f is there, with a puzzled,
weary expression of face. Madame de Pompadour
is near him. Voltaire and Richelieu stand befOre
the kin and a little retired, are Carrol], Cavanagh,
and red-faced Sergeant Poiiier, the latter ,with an
tomtputated arm, bound up in white, looking ready
ro .

P

Richelieu says to Carroll: .

“Take the man away. It’s in Etioles was kill-
ed, or this plot would have cost m his life now.
Friendb‘you have saved yours b telling all. ."

AsP rieris taken out me do Pompadour
addresses the king:

“I knew your. majesty‘s magnanimous soul.
would revolt at the foul plot against Count Des-
mond, whom ou have a inted to the post of
Score of ation at rlin. It recompenses
me fort edan or incurred in requesting your mag-
esty‘s pardon orhim who had unwittingly oflen -

on

e king grunted, and darted a suspicious glance
at madame, as he peevishl said:
e a at fuss about this

“It seems to me you In
Irishman, madame. One woul think you are in
love with him. Richelieu and you are in plot togeth-
er, I believe.”

‘ We are,” says madame, boldly. “and I will tell
your majest the cause. The count is a rson
we both In. and my sister, Mademoise Le
Normand, is greatly attached to him. The count is
toopoorto wed her,and we wishto see them united.
The is our reason for urging his appointment "

so”. 1'18le

The kingb htensu ,an :
“ Mademoigleail  enough forboth.

 

 

it isagood match. Let them be sent for. I wish
I '9!

1I’lgoking keenly at madame he continued in a
w er:

“111 see if your story is true, cherie—I do not
trust you yet."

 

“ Mademoiselle, I have only one word to say.
Farewell."

“ Farewell. Do you depart so soon, then?“

“ This very night, for Berlin, by the king‘s order." .

“ Then I can but wish you a fgood journey, count.”

She stands in the boudoir o madame. in ial in
her dark beauty, for she is attired for t e ball.
Gerald bows low before her, and then lingers awk-
wardly. Therese is very pale.

"Mademoiselle," he begins, “ I was going without
sa. ' —I—I find that I cannot go without saying—"

{here he breaks down. Therese does not uttera
word, but seems very busy examining the lace on
her handkerchief.

“ I was about to sa , mademoiselle," he continues,
more coherently, “ t at I did not know until today
what I owe to you."

“ To me? N othingl”—trembling excesdvely.

“ Pardon, mademoiselle. Carroll has told me how
fiou exposed your own life at the bursting mili' of

oigny to save mine.”

“ But ’twas you saved me there, Ger—monsieur,"
she says, lifting her eyes a moment, and droppin
them with crimson cheeks. “ I’m sure—had t no
been for your courage and coolness then—I should
have never—never seen the light again."

Gerald is silent awhile, then he speaks with a cor.
tain gravit of demeanor that shows he ha made
pp histmin toasolemn duty, and isabout to per-

orm .

“Mademoiselle Therese Le Normand,” he says,
“I am about to do a thin that will lower me in your
esteem, and get I owe it in honor to you to tell
the truth. ademoiselle a. few months ago I saw
and loved one whom—I w ll not mention again while
I have breath. I thought her a pure and perfect be-
Ivlilf, and I found when too late that I had loved a

e thing. Mademoiselle, I met you on the second
time I saw her, and you saved my life y a timely
warning. A second time I met vou, and again m
came to warn me. In my m passion fora
woman I slighted the warning, and met—ruin.
Mademoiselle, my unishment now islmthat, loving
youasI do more t n my life, recogn 'ng in you.
the real angel which I fancied in her, I see that I
have thrown away the whole 11:3)me of my life
and in slighting you have m e you hate me.
know that I deserve it, and I bow to your decision
mademoiselie; when I am far away from you I will
pm that you maybe happy; I am self-doomed to
soli 'y despair.”

He was retiring slowly when she rose up eagerly.

“What do you mean?" she said, in a low tone.
“1 hate you! Are you mad or mocking me? Is it
that you hesitate to ally same like yours to the
dishonored house of LeNormand that you
like this to hide your real motive? Oh, monsieur,
you might have spared me that blow. I never in‘
jured you."

She sunk back weeping on a couch, and somehow
in a moment Gerald was beside her. He looked at

? her shaking form a moment with an appearance of

doubt half-frantic, then threw himself at her feet,
and cried out: ‘

“Let them call me a fortune-hunter. Let them
sneer at me as they like, I will do it. Therese
Therese, Inot only ove ou,I offer lyou m hand
and heart. Reject them you will. shall eserve
it for daring to aspire to an heiress like you. But
you shall not doubt I love and honor you more, in
your puritfi and truth, than if you owned for your

ouse the ourbon itself."

Therese looked at him between her fingers.

“Do you mean you love me, and offer to wed a

5 girl whose name is tainted with—"

It‘s not exactly fair to say what Gerald did here.

Enough that he met her eyes full and read their so-

. cret.

 

Voltaire opened the door and hustled toward two

ple, who were sitting at opposite sides of a very

arge boudoir as if they were strangers. He looked
pe lexedas esaid:

“ am very sorry, count, and you, mademoiselle,
bpt his majesty is in a ve strange humor to-
night, and he insists on nothing less than that you
two shall be immediately married together, and
leave for Berlin tonight."

The old gentleman is somewhat amazed to hear
the count answer, coolly:

“Very well, Monsieur Voltaire, I am extremely
happly and thankful to his majesty. I am ready."

0 taire looked from one to the other with a quini-

cal rin.

“6hel Ohei So it is understood. Well, I can
tell you one thing, monsieur, that is majesty does
not order this to oblige you, so much as to get rid
of both of you."

“I know it. But the result is the same. For
me, I never wish to see France again. I take to
Berlin all" the land has to offer to me when I take

herese.
“And I will follow you to the world’s end," say:
Therese.”

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
A man A‘I‘fléxANm%'
“A I “ an, Paussn, JULY —, 176.

“ Madame la Iarqutu de Mpadour.

“Mann AND my unit rennin—According to
your desire, I write to you at the earliest posalbb
date, with news of my mission. It has been entirely
successful, and his ma esty of Prussit has been
more than gracious, txvely caressing toward me.
He is, there is no oubt, a man of the test
powers of mind, and a magnificent warrior, t as a
guest in a dra -room he has several faults.

articularly, he tea execrable French verses,
and plays on a flute in the most lugubrious la,
racking to the nerves of even a philosopher. “The
Prussians are, be 0nd all things, and instead of all
things, good 501 ers. Cabbage and beer seem to be
their only food,and one must take a large-shd
augerandhoreaholointhair ifhowould
getthem to understand a stacked, t. Thain.

 

20

The Irish Captain

 

in , is more French than Prussian. He even
ha his own tongue, ,and speaks nothing but
French. Yesterday we signed the treaty, which
I said you herewith, by embassy courier, with dis-
pa es.

“And now for our little Secrets of Legation and
his young wife. I must so? thn Count Desmond
is a man Of the most vsri talents, and I congrat-
ulate on on having induced the king to a point
him. tween ourselves. it was just as we His
majesty of France is jealous, and the sight of one
who was a rival, even defeated, is not cable,
near one. It was lucky for us all that Et oles was
killed by those Obliging English. As for madame la
comtesse, it is enough to say that Therese Desmond
is more lovely than ever was Therese Le Normand.
She seems very ha8p , and the count is ridiculous]
in love with her. a y’one point do I quarrel wit
him and her about. either will ever mention your
name. IfIs akofit, both maintain an obstinate
silen and can not induce them totalk of you.
either n praise or abuse. I can not think that this

Y is even common gratitude to one whose favor has
done so much for them as you have. Still, asa
philosopher, I laugh at them both. Isuppose it is
some notion they ave of honor. Degn madam, to
accept the assurance of my unbound devotion.

I “ Your very humble servant,
“F. ARODET DE VOLTAIRE.“

“VERsAnmns GRAND TRIANON,
. . Aryans-r —, 1745.

“ Mr,
“ Monsieur dc Voltaire,

“Moder Extraordinary from France to

Pmsda, at Berlin.

" MY DEAR FRIEan—Your letter doesnot surprise.
and yet it pains me. Send me nomorc di rceablc
news. I never wish to see the count or erese
again, and yet I love to hear of their harpiness. Re-
member how I cursed that man’s 11 e for saving
mine remember that he loved me when Therese
10V him, and judge if it is not a foolish thing for
you to drag my name before them. If they do owe
worldly p rity to me, is it not a torture to them
to be remin ed, that they owe it to me) Ispcak
glam, my friend. I have sinned with In ' eyes 0 en.

on shut yours, and protemlto be a ree-thin er,
when you are, after all, but a bigot to your own
deism, as superstitious as any priest. I have chosen
my lot. World! splendor now, and a name of dis-
grace to poster ty when I am gone. Meanwhile, I
shall try to please myself by making Gerald and
Therese happy. If they do not thank me, I know I
do not deserve it. I am but paying them a debt I
owe them, which I beran to pay when I forced them
to marry each other, I spite O his modesty and her
scrnnles. Let them live In Berlin and be happy.

“ This will be brought to you by a special messen-
ger of thecourt, recommended to me by the Duke
of Richelieu. H0 is an Irish gentleman, of that
regiment recently disbanded. wish you to s k
for him to his majesty of Prussia, as a fine cigggr,
who is anxious to enter his service. His name is
CarmlL

“Send me all the good news of my proteges. Let
me know their waiits, butdnéaver  of me to them.

“Receive, Inons eur an ear end the assurance
of my distin uished consideration. ’

“ EANIIE ANTOINETTE DE POEPADOUR,
“Nu POIEsON."

 

 

THE END.
B dl ’ 0' Lb
ea 9 s we I rary.
1 A Hum men. B Philip s. Warne........... 100
2 THE DARE-DEVIL. y Col. P. In raham..... . 100
8 KIT CARsON, JR. By Buckskin m . . . . . . . .  10c
4 THE KIDNAPPER. B Phili S. Warns . . . . .  inc
5THEFIREFIENDs. yA. .Morris............10c
6 WILDCAT BOD. By Edward L. Wheeler  , . 10¢

a DRATH-NOTCH, TIIE DESTROYER. Oll Coomcs.. 10c
8 THE HEADLEss HoRsEHAN. By Mayne Reid... 10c
9 HANDY ANDY. By Samuel Lover . .. 10c

10 VIDOCQ, THE FRENCH POLICE SPY. By himself. 100

11 MIDsHIPHAN EAsY. By Capt. Maryatt  10c

1". THE DEATH-SHOT. B Capt. Mayne Reid .. . we
13 PATHAWAY. By Dr. . H. Robinson.  . . 10c
11 THAYENDANEGEA. THE SCOURGE. Ned Buntline. we

15 Tun TIGER SLAYER B Gustave Aimard. . ., . 10c
16 THE WHITE WIzARD. y Ned Buntline  . . .. -10c
17 NIGHTsuADE. By Dr. .l. H. Robinson . . . . .. . 10c
18 THE SEA BANDIT. By Ned Buntline . . . . . .  10c

19 RED CEDAR. By Gustave Aimard .  . 190
90 THE BANDrr AT BAY. By Gustave Almard... 10c
21 THE TRAPPER’s DAUGHTER. Gustave Aimard . 10c
22 WHrI-ILAw. By Dr. J. H. Robinson . .. . 100
23 THE RED WARRIOR. By Ned Buntline
24 THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. By Gustave Aimard . 10c
a THE GOLD GUIDE. By Francis Johnson. . . . . 10c
26 THE DEATH TRACK._ By Francis Johnson . 10c
27 THE SPO’I'I‘IR DETECTIVE. By Albert W.Aiken.. 10c
28 Tm-FINGERID JACK. Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 10c
Q‘TIGHR DICK. THE FARO KING. P. S. Warne . me

I) GOGPKL GEORGE. By Joseph E. Barvlge . Jr . 100
81 THE NEw YORK SHARP. By Albert .Aikenu 10c
82 Show or XALI. By John D. Vose .  . 10c

33 OVERLAND KIT. Bv Albert W. Aiken . 10c
84 ROCKY MOUNTAIN ROD. By Albert W. Aiken. 10c
85 KENTUCK, THE SPORT. By Albert W. Aiken . Inc
as INJUH DICK. By Albert W. Aiken . . . . . . . .. .
I? THE HUNOHHACK. By J. H. Robinson... 10c
$ VELVY‘ HAND. Bv Albert W. Aiken. . 100
89 THE RussIAN SPY. By Frederick Whittaker. 10c
40 THE LONG HAIEED ‘PARDs.’ J. E. Badger.Jr.. 10c
41 how DAN. By Albert W. Aiken. . . .
42 THE CALIFORNIA DETECHVE. A. W. Aiken. . .. 10c
4‘1 DAKOTA DAN. By Oil Coomes .  . . 10c

  

44 OLD DAN RACKDACK. By 011 (‘oomes . 10c
45 OLD BULL’s EYE. Bv Jos. E. Badger, Jr . 100.
46 Bom- BEN. By 011 Coomes . . . . . . ... 10¢
47 PACIFIC II. By Joe E. Badger, Jr....  . 10c
48 IDAHO TON. By 011 Coomes. . .. 10c
49 TH». Worm. Duos. By Albert W. Aiken. . .. . 10¢
50 JACK RAREIT. y Jos. E. Badger. r . 100

“mu BIPIIISIMEI~ :3:
a. m- J I. d  no
‘l-I-IAH‘MAKEPPA. gvAlgenWAiken... 10¢

 

57 THE SILENT HUNTER. By Pong B. St. John... 10c
H. 0 0c

58 SILVER KNIFE. By Dr. J. binson . . . . . .. 1

59 THE MAN FROM TEXAs. BV Albert W. Aiken. 10c
60 WIDE AWAKE. B\ Frank umont . . . . . . . . .  10c
61 CAPTAIN SEAWAxr. By Ned Buntline . . . . . . .  10c

62 LOYAL HEART. By Gustave Aimard, . . . . . . .. l -
6‘! THE WINGED WHALE. BV Albert W. Aiken... 100
64 DOUBLE SIGHT. By JOE. E. Badger Jr.  . 10c
65 THE RED RAJAH. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 100
66 THE SPECTER BARQL'E. By Ca t. Mayne Reid... 100
67 THE BOY JOCKEY. By Josep l E. Badger, Jr... 10c

i 68 THE FIGHTING TRAPPER. By J. F. C. Adams. 10c

69 THE IRISH CAPTAIN. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 10c
70 HYDRARAD. I? Dr. J. H. Robinson. .  1
71 CAPTAIN COOL IADE. By JOE. E. Badger, Jr.. 100
72 THE PHANTOM HAND. By Albert W. Aiken . 10c
73 THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CRoss. By Dr. J.
H.Robinson....  .. .  100
74 CAPTAIN or THE RIFLES. Capt. Mayne Reid.. 100
'75 GENTLEMAN GEORGE. By Albert W. Aiken... 10c
76 THE UEEN’s MUSKETEERS. B Geo. Albany. 10c
77 THE sign or FRIsco. ByA bert W. Aiken. 10c
78 THE MYSTERIOI'S SPY. B A. M. Grainger.... 10c
79 JOE PHENIx. By Albert '. Aiken 00
80 A MAN or NERVE. B Philip S. Warne.  100
81 THE HUHAN (TIGER. y Albert W. Aiken..... 10c
82 IRON WRIST. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery.. 100
83 GOLD BULLET SPORT. By Buffalo Bill 
54 HUNTED DOWN. By Albert W. Aiken  .. 10c
85 THE CRETAN ROVER. By Col. P. Ingraham  10¢
86 THE BIG HUNTER. Author 01‘. “Silent Hunter." 10c
87 THE SCARLET CAPTAIN. By Col. Delle Sara. .. 10c
88 BIG GEORGE. By Jose hE. Bad er, Jr . . . . . .. 10¢
89 THE PIRATE PRINCE. y (.‘ol. P. ngrabam. . .. 10c
90 WILD WILL. By Buckskin Sam . . . . . . . . . . .. 100
91 THE WINNING OAR. By Albert W. Aiken.  100
92 BUFFALO BILL. By Major Dangerfield Burr .. Inc
93 CAPTAIN DICK TALDOT. By Albert W. Aiken. 10¢
91 FREELANCE, THE BIICCANEER. By Ingraham . 10c
95 AZHORT, THE AXMAN. By AllII'OnV 1”. Morris. 10c
96 DOUHLE DEATH. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 100
W BRONZE JACI. By Albert W. Aiken  .. 100

98 THE ROCK RIDER. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 10c
99 THE GIANT RIFLENAN. By 011 Coomes .. .. 10c
100 THE FRENCH SPY. By A P. Morris . . . . . . .. 10c

101 THE MAN FROM NEW \onK. By A. W. Aiken. 10c
102 THE MAEKED BAND. By George L. Aiken .. Inc
103 MERLE, THE MUTINEER. Col. P. Ingrnhnm.. Inc
101 MONTEzUMA, Tm: MERCILEss. By In rahnm. 10c
105 DAN BROWN 01" DENVER. ‘ ByJo-s. E adger.. ICC
109 SHAHUs O‘BRIEN. By Col. clle Sara . . 100
im RICHARD TALDOT OF CINNADAR. BV Aiken. 10c
108 THE DUKE OE DIAMONDS. By Fred.Whittaker. 10c
109 CAPTAIN KYD. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm . 10c
110 THE SILENT RIFLEMAN By 11. W. Herbert . 10c
111 THE SHUGGLER CAPTAIN. By Ned Buntline. 10c
11:! JOE PHENIx, PRIVATE DETECTIVE. By Aikon. 100
113 THE SEA SLIPPER. By Prof. J. H. ingraham. 10c
111 THE GENTLEMAN’ FROE PIKE. By P. S. Warne Inc
115 THE SEVERED HEAD. BV (.‘ant. F.1Vhittaker. 10c

' 116 BLACK PLUME. THE DEVIL ON THE SEA. By Col.

P. lngraham .. .. .. .. 100
117 DARLING DANDY. By Major Dangerfield Burr. 10c
118 THE BURGLAR CAPTAIN. By J. H.1ngrahnm. NC
119 ALAnAMA JOE. By Joseph E. Bad or, Jr.... 19c
1'30 THE TEKAN SPY. By Newton M. (urtis. . Inc
121 THE SEA CADET.
122 SAUL SADDERDAY. By Ned Buntliue .. .. . 100
1% ALAPAHA, THE SQUAW. By Francis Johnson. 100
194 ASSOWAUM, THE AVENGER. Francis Johnson. 100
125; THE BLACKSMITII ('iI'TLAw.

127 SOL SCOTT. THE MAsKED MINER.
128 THE CHEVALIER CORsAIR. By the author of
“Merle. the Mutineer.” . .  ..
129 MIssIssIPPI MORE. By Edward Willctt. . . .. 100
130 CAPTAIN VOLCANO. By Albert W. Aiken. . . . 100
131 BUCKsKIN SAM. By Col. Prentiss IngrahnnL. 10c
132 NEMO, KING OF THE 'l‘RAuPs. By Capt. Fred.
Whittaker...  ..  10c
133 RODY, THE ROVER By William Carleton... 10c
131 DARKIE DAN. By (‘01. Prentiss Ingrahnm. 10c
185 THE BUSH RANGER. By Francis Johnson... 10c

136 THE OUTLAW-HUNTER. By Francis Johnson. 1% [ 2110 Tu; MAgxxn MysTEInr. By A. P. Mo

J 137 LONG BEARD, THE GIANT SPY. By 011 Coomes. 1

‘ 1:13 THE CZAR‘s SPY. By Pb

138 THE BORDER BANDITs.
139 FIRE-EYE, THE SEA HYENA.
140 THE THREE SPANIARDs. By George
141 EQUINox TOM. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr..., me
142 CAPTAIN CRIMSON. By Major Darfierfleld Burr 10c
' 09. H. onstery.... 10c
144 HUNCHRACK or NOTRE-DAIIE. Victor Hugo. 100
145 PIsTOL PARDs. By Wm. R. E su-r  . 10c
14": THE DOCTOR DETECTIVE. By eorge Lemuel 10c
147 GOLD SPUR. By Col. Prentiss lngrahnm. .. 10c
148 ONE-ARHED ALF. By 011 Comm-s 100
119 THE BORDER RIFLES. By Gustave Aimard.. 10c
150 EL RUDIO BRAVO, THE KIM! OF THE SWORD-
MEN. By Col. Thomas Hover Monstery. . 10c
151 THE FREPBOilTERS. B
152 CAPTAIN IRONNERVE.
15:1 THE WHITE SCALPER. y Gustave Aimard. 100
151 JOAQUIN. THE SADDLE KING. Br J. E. Badger. 100
155 THE CORsAIR QUEEN. By (‘01. P. Ingreham. 100
156 VELVET FACE. By Major Dangerfield Burr. 100
157 MOURAn. THE MAMILUKE. By Col. Thomas
Hoyer Monstery . . . . . . . 100

By Francis Johnson. me
By In raham 100

‘ 158 THE DOOMED DOZEN. By Dr: 'Frank.Powell..: 10c

" 164 THE KING‘s FOOL. By C. D. (‘iark

R.Urban    .
167 THE MAN OF STEEL. Bv A. P. Morris. 10c
168 WILD BILL. THE PIsTOL DEAD SHOT. By COL
Prentisslngraham.. .   .  10c
169 CORPORAL CANNON. By 001. Monstery..  10c ‘
. 170 SWEET WILLIAH. By JON. E. Badger Jr  100
171 TIGER DICK. THE MAN cr THE IRON KART.
By Philip S. Warne. ‘ . . . . . . . . 16c

159 RED RI'DIGER. By Ca t. Fred’k Whittaker.. 190
160 SOEI' HAND. SHARE, y William R. Eysier.. me
161 THE WOLVEs OF NEW YORK. BVA.W. Aiken. 100
162 THE MAD MARINER. By Col. P. Ingraham 10c
163 BEN BRION, THE TRA PPER 0; PT: IN: or. RED-
PATII. THE AVENGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 10¢

00
165 JOAQUIN. THE TERRIBLE. By JOE. E. Badger. 10c

= 166 OWLE-r, THE BORDER PRINCE. By Septimus me

172 THE BLACE PIRATE. By 001. Ingraham.... 100
178 CALIFORNIA‘ JOHN. 8 Albert W. Aiken . . . . .. 10c
174 PHAKTO" KNIGHTS. V Capt. F. Whittaker.. 10c
175 WILD BILI.’s ’l‘RUIIP ARI‘. BV Major Burr. 100
176 LADY JAGUAR. By CaptMarkailton. .. . 100
177 DON DIADLO. By Col. Prentiss lngraham. 100
178 DARK DAus con By Major 8. S. Hall. 100

' m Como. nu Comer. Prof sanderneovo'. we
no 0:.» in. By Joseph E. BadéerJr. .. 0c

'alkcr.. 10c ;

ustave Aimnrd.. . 10c I
V Marmaduke Dey 10c |

 

BY (‘01. Prentiss Ingraham. 100. ‘ 243 THE mumps SHARP.

By II.Ainsworth. 19c i 947 ALLIGATOR IKE.
126 THE DEHON DUELIST. By Col. T. H. Monstery. 100 I «w; Mom-Am. N”.

l

l
5

l

y
I

 

e’ 267 THE WHITE SQUAw. By 03m Mayne Reid. 100

181 THE SCARLET SCHOONER. By COLIngraham. 10¢
182 HANDS UP. B Wm. B. Fystcr  10c
183 GILHERT. THE UIDE. By 1'. Dunning Clark. 10c
184 THE OCEAN VAHPIRE. By Col. P. lngrahem. 10c
185 MAN SPIDER. By A. P. Mon-is .. . .. .. 10c
186 THE BLACK BRAVO. By Buckskin Sam..  10c
18? THE DEATH‘e-HEAD ('I‘IBASSIERS. Whittaker. 10c
188 PHANTOH MAzEPPA. Major Dangerfield Burr. 10c
189 WILD BILL’s GOLD TRAIL. By P. In ham. 100
190 THE THREE GUARDSHEN. By Alex. name. 100
191 THE TERRIHLE TONKAWAY. By Buckskin Sam. 10c
192 THE LIGHTNING SPORT. By Wm. R. Eyster. 100
193 THE MAN IN REP. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 10c
194 DON SGHHRERO By ('aptam Mark “iiton . 10c
195 THE LONE STAR GAMBLIR. B ‘ Buckskin Sam. 10c
196 LA MARIOI-‘ET. BV Albert . Aiken...  10c
197 REVOLVER Ron. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr... 10c
198 THE SKELETON SCHOONPR. By P.1ngraham. 10c
199 DIAMOND DICK. By Buckskin Sam. .. . 10c,
200 THE RIFLE RANGERS. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 10c.
201 THE PIRATE OF THE PLACERII.  Badger. 10c:
202 CACI'Us JACK. By Captain Mark 'ilton. . .. 100‘
203 THE DOCDLE DETECTIVE. By A. W. Aiken. 100
204 BIG FOOT WALLACE. B Buckskin Sam  10c-
205 THE GAEHLER PIRATE. y("«.l. P. Ingraham. 10c
206 ONE EYE. THE CANNONKER. By \‘rhittaker.. 100
207 OLD HARD HEAD. B Philip 8. Warm...  me"
208 THE WHrrE CHIEF. y Craft. Mayne Rtid.. 100
£19 BUCK FARLEY. 14y Eda-a Willett.... .. 1
210 BUCCANEER BEss. By Prentiss Inmaham .. 10c
211 THE UNKNO SPORT l‘y (‘a t.Whittaker. 100
2 2 THE BRAzos IGERs By Buc skin Sam. . 10c
THE ‘ AR TRAIL. By Ca tain Mayne Reid.. 100
THE Two COOL SPORTs. Wm. R. Eyster. 10c
PARsON JIM. By Captain red. Whittaker. 10c
THE (‘ORsAIR PLANTER. B (‘01. In raham. 100
THE SERPENT OF EL PAsO Bucks n Sam. 100
THE WILD HUN'rREss. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 10c
THE SCORPION BROTHERs. By (‘a t. Wilton. 10c
THE SPECTER YACHT. By Lo . P. ngraham. 10c
DESPERATE DUKE. By Buckskin Sam.  1
BILL, THE BLIzzAKD. By Edward llett... 10c
CANYON DAVE. ByCa tain Mark W1 ton . 10c.
BLACK BEARD. By ('0 . Prentiss Ingraham.. 10c-
ROCKY MOUNTAIN AL. By Buckskin Sam... 10c-
MAD HussARs. By Ca tain Fred. Whittaker. 10¢
BECKNHOT BEN B aptain Mark Wilton. 10c
THE MARooN. By apt. Mayne Reid . . . . . . .. 10c
CAPTAIN C(‘TSLEEVE. By William R. Eystpr. 100;
THE FLYING DUTCHNAN OF 188‘. Bstpt.
Frederick Whittaker  .  . 100
THE KID GLOVE MINER. By Col. Ingraham. 100
ORSON OXx. THE MAN OF IRON. By Isaac
Hawks. Ear-Detective .  . 1
THE OLD BOY OP TOEnsTONE. By Joseph E.
Badger,Jr  .   . .1
THE HIYNTI‘RS' FEAST. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 10::
235 BED LIGHTNING, THE MAN 0!" CHANCE. By
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham .  . . . . .. 10¢
2'16 CHAMPION SAM. By (“01. Thos. II. Monstery. 100'
237 LONG-H/IRED MAX. B Capt. Mark Wilton. 10c,
m8 HANK HOI'ND. By A. .Morris. .  100
239 THE TERRIBLE TRIO. By Buckskin Sam.... 100

§ ’9 i§§ §§§§§§§§§§§§§§2§§§

210 A COOL HEAD. B lsaac Hawks . .  100
241 SPITI'IRE SAUL. y Joe. E. l Edger. Jr . . . . . .. 100
212 THE FOG DEVIL. l‘y Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 10c

I‘y Bufl'nlo Bill . . . . . .. 100
244 MERCILI-zss MART. Dy l‘uckskin Sam. . . . . .. 100

245 l’ARRANPA I‘ILL. Ty ('a t. Mark Wilton 10c
‘246 QUEEN HELEN. By 001. rcntiss IngrRham. 10c
By Capt. Fred. \\ hittaktr. 10c
I‘y Edward Willett. . . 100

B)’ Badger. 10¢ " 249 ELEPHANT TON. Iy Jr‘s. E. I‘ad P. Jr... . 103.
250 THE ROUGH RIDEEE. I‘y l‘ucksk n Sam. .. 10c
100. r 251 TIGER DICK vs. IRON DEsPARD. By ane. 10¢

25? THE WALL STREET L‘Loon. By A. 11'. Aiken. 10c
253 AYANKPE COSSACK. By ( 'R t. F. 11 hittaker 10c
254 GIANT JAKE. I'y Newton li .Cnrtis.  10c
255 THE PIRATE PRIEST. By Col. 1’. Ingraham. 100
256 DOUBLE DAN. THE DAETARD. Buckskin Sam. 10c
257 DEATH-TRAP DIGGINGS. l y Joe. E. I’adger. 10c
25‘! BULLET HEAD. By Ca tai Mark Milton  100
259 CUTLAss AND Cncsa. y Col. P. Ingrabam. 10c

10c
261 BLACK SAM. By Colonel Jo Yards . . . . . . . . . .. 10c
262 FIGHTING TOE. By COLT. H. Monste  . 10c

2m lRoN-ARHED ADE. By Capt. Mark \1 1 ton... 10c
264 THE CROOKED THREE. B5 Buckskin 8am. .. 10c
265 OLD DOUBLE-SWORD. By .a t. F. Whittaker. 10c
266 LEOPAPD LUKE. By Capta n Mark Wil'nn . 10c
$8 MAGIC MIKE. By William E ster
269 THE BAYOU BRAVO. By Burks in Sam .. 100
270 ANDRos. THE FREE ROVER. By Ned Buntline. 10c.
271 STONEEIsT, or BIG NUGGET BEND. By Capt.

MarkWilton..... . .  .. . . 10::-
272 SETH SLOCI'II. I‘y Cafitain Fred. \‘i hittaker. 10c
273 MOUNTAIN MOEE. B ' llth kin Sam . . . . . . . .. 10c
274 FLUSH FRED. By E ward Willett  10c

275 THE SHUGGIER CITrER. P-V J.'D. Conroy. 10c
276 TEKAs CHICK. BV (‘aptain Mark 'Wilton. . .. 10c
277 THE SAUCY JANE. VATEER. By Capt. Fred.

Whittaker. :  .  . .. 
278 HERCULES GOLDsPnR. By Capt. H. Holmes. 10c
279 THE GOLD-DRAGON. BV Wm. H. Manning... 10c
280 BLACK-HOSE BEN. By Philip S. “'arne. .. 10c
281 THE SEA OWL. By (,ol. Prentiss Ingraham. 100-
282 THE MERCILEss MARAUDERE. By Buckskin

2m SLEEK SAN. By Joe. E. Badger Jr.  .
294 THETHREE FRIGATEs. B Captiilihlttaker. 100
285 LIGHTNING BOLT. Bv pt. Mark Wilton. 100
286 PIsTOL JOHNNY; or. One Man in a Thousand.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr,
287 DANDY DAVE. By Buckskin Sam..... 
238 ELECTRO PETE.the Man of Fire. By A. Morris. 100:
289 FLUSH FRED's FULL HAND. By E. Wil tt.. .. 10c
290 THE LosT CORV' TTE. By Ca t F. Wh ttaker. 100
291 HORSESHOI HANK. By Cap . Mark I‘ ilton.. 10c,
292 hEiogEgioann, the Boss Bonsai-out. By JOE.
. a ger. r. . . . . . . .
293 STAIPEDE STEVE. By Buckskin Sam.   10c
294 BROADCLCTH BURT By Capt. H. Helmet... 10c,
295 OLD CROSS-EYE. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 10c
2‘6 DUNCAN, THE SEA-DIVEII. B G. St. George. 100
207 COLORADO RUDE. BVBm. Manning. . . . . .. 10c

' M LOGGED LEE. By Edward Willett. . . . . . . . . .. 103

A new um every Wednesday.

Bonnie's Dune Library is for sale by all -

Newsdealers. ten cents per copy. or sent by mallet
receipt of twelvecentseach. " 4..

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BEADLE’SrHALF-DIMErLIBRARY.

B Y 0LL coon El.

“6 Kit Bondy. Detm‘tiu; or, Silver Star, the Roy KnigbL
Iii Kit Bandy in Ti:an or. The Young Mustang".
.08 Kit Iiundy’a Catch; or, Th- Bov Hortulrl.
m Kit liundy’a 'ilght Bower; or,li..hy Sam.the Boy Giant
Kit Bundy‘a suoo «~r, Liitio Buckskin. the Centaur.
i419 Kit Band)“- Sliok gale-Qt 0". Uld Tom RIM“?-
(Itil kit iiondy‘a Deliverance; or. Banner Bul-
880 Kit Ilnudy’a i’urfl; or, Daimlleu Dan, the Freelanoo.
791 Kit Handy Ilattled nr,1‘heluiantGinnt.
.795 [tit Iiundy ill lied ulu: or, The Young “'hirlwinl.
1:99 halt IIundy‘a lllg Run-tie: uhSnddle Kins: Sum-
04 Itlt Bandy-hi Brigade; or, Dan, illt‘. Mountain Guido.
I kid liauiiy’a Brigade III Arizona.
9 hit liundy‘u o'tur Engagement.

92

98
58 Jack Drew. the Nellie-is. or, Enlo Kit the Bo Demon.
89 Juok Drew‘a Drop; or, Llitls llurrium‘, thii y Captain.
99 Jack Drew In Deadwood; or, Pro-peel. Fate.

.7 Keen Knife on Guard; or. Anti-lop. Abo, tho BoyGuldo
.1 Keen-Knife. the Prince ol'tho l'rnirioo.
5 Val-bond Joe, tho '1'»ng Wandorln Jon.
I. The Doll. Spy. ‘
‘1 Lori-o Jack. thn Young hill-tong".
58 The Border Kln : «,11ioSothn.
:1 Del-wore Dick. t Young Ranger”.
i 4 llnwk-e o llorr the Young Tn?" Ranga‘
“Ito toBo In e ov,The elm"
: lure hot let ,th. I ltloinan.
Sour-Foo. Saul. tho SI on! Hunter.
8 0M Dolitnry, tho llormit Tnp'of.
m  To“: tkito Tu;- Torrur+ '
o 1 or, an oin I Cnfl
.98 LittleWIidIl-r, tho “Kiri: Prairie Noma .
.88 The Parson Detective; or Tho Littlo Rang».
on The DIi-gulaed Guide; or, him Rovon,tho mm.
0 Dare-Devil "all, the Young Prairie Rongor.
O Mini‘lhin like, the Boy Shamahootor.
.890 Ittie Foxfire, tho Bo Spr; or, Old Caiob Arhoehh
' 00 he 8k Demon; or, ainbolt, the Rang".
4 Whine Ing Joe, the Boy Ranchoro.
409 llereuleot wr, Dick, tho Boy Ranger.
I? ehi'oot loae, the Tramp Dstoctlvo. .
457 Wingedi’oot Fruit 0?. 0M Polor Soul.
'I‘nlnnrne Ton, the ill; Trappor Bay.
489 Stone ull liob, the Boy Troian.
“9 Blun ring Boa-Ii. the Hnrmii Boy‘l'roypo
.5! Don linrr. tho i’luinl Freelance.
6‘") Norway Nela, the Big Boy Mountainoor.
:78 Hithlnnd Ilurry the Wlsard thlanian.
P. or Jack. tho tectire Sport.

BY T. J. YLANAGAN.

909 Iii-hi nion Dore. the Pl 0
9 a‘ho Yo,un Cowboy Contra-lino. .me“
Thine Two . idahip-en; or, 'l‘hojCoraoIn-Cliaur’o “rat
4' no.

BY DAN DUNNING.

I” i’r  ’t ’5'?’ it. Sm" lmi'f Spy’n mm 11.
L‘Mun no te nvnci at. r

875 Detective Duvii‘a Cloae n It: ' o m
884 Farrel Fox nnd Ilia Girl Ferret.

893 Farrel, Fox'a Sweep-Stalin.

li‘ GEORGE 0. JnKI.

l
8: Git Thur iiwney th Unknown.
Git Thur Iiwney’a 10420.

51. The Demon Doctor; or, DOItiliolii, the Kid Dot-euro.

581 Douhle~Cnrve Dan, the Pitch-r Dotoctlvo.

i” flute; Lao Slum Dotoctivo; or Owooy in a Now Rolo.
Itcher Iletoetive’a oil; 01, Don’t Double Play.

016 The Ocean Dotootlvot or. The LootCrniIo ofthe Black Door.

881 The Pita-her Detective’n Ton heat Tuaoie.

786 Lb", the Thoroughbredt or. at“ on Every Ska.

77. iron “and. the Charmed Detoctlvr

851 Uncle Sam's Detective In Chicago.

BY “'11. G. I’ATTEN.

699 Violet Vane: the Valrot Sport: or, Th. Jubilee oi Jarlriown
008 Violet Va e .I Victor’s or. The Jasper City Cloan Out.
“’3 violet II I. lily, the no Farris.

205 Violot 'uno'a \Liiw: or. T a Crafty Detective’a Cralt.
794 Violet ‘vnne‘a \Ienzennve; or.’i‘he “'ipo-(lut.

80 Violet \ ane'a \ erdiut; «r, The Game at Coiiin City.

4| Violet Vane. the Vuuirilniuint \‘idocq; or, S tort VI. Sport.
5. Yiolot \rnlie, the Vanqula ml. or. The Liie . (magic.

68 V Ioiet \ une'a Vii-Ion; or, The Fii-ry lland oi'Fntc.

:48. The Dina-mid Bporl x or, Tho Duuhi- Fm oi Bed Rock.
“I. (In turn .dyater¥ : or.l"iw in One.

iui IN I] "are the .rwrl {mm iienror.

“8? 01d Bomb-hell, the Rimgor Detective.

«04 Iron For", the \lm of Fire: or, Among the Vultum.

019 The Boy ’l‘rurnp Drier-the: or.1‘ho Douhio GripWitui-oa
641 Iii-mnl Duvc‘n Diindy I’m-(i: nr.ThuCiuetoCapt. Claw
Mb Round Boy 1" rnnk. the Young Amateur Detective

.6 Wild Vulonu, tin- l.m»e.Ranu Rider.

:141’” Mlury the Man from Miamurl.

7

«~44

74 (‘lour- irlt CHI, ill“ Never Far-Die Detoctu'.
99 Hum Sherliluu, th.‘ Sucrot Svl'vii'e Spool"

80“ Cowboy “tout the Ranch \iusmt.
.20 Nobby Nut, tho Te'ulerfooi Den-Clive.
SIG Sharper Stoke": Double Deni.
7 Spotter lioli In New York.
‘08 Spotter llob'a II owery Rocket.
i 81' (‘01.0!\' EL DELLE SARA.
0. he Lion ofthe Ben or, The Vallod ind .
’3. "I lie-Monti; or. Th‘o Gambler’a Biz Ganyio.
: BY CAPTAIN FRED. WIIITTAKEB.
\ l he Ion-Cot; or. The Witch of Dan'sn
I The Dumb P. e: 0 Th 1) ’ .
as out. Darling. t . roif. E:pro(:eR-iiaerl.um.h
.e nee on | or. Tho Children oftho Chaeo.
154 ho Sward III-tern or, The Land oitho Ila hant Eldon
159 The Loot Contain: or, Skipper Jab" Cotlln's 8min. '
.00 The Boy Bedouin—3 or. Ths Brothsrs of tho Pins-ad loloa'
.14 “'oli'lnng. tho Robber oi the Rhino.
$.49 Milo Router tho Animal King: or,Ronnd tho Wiri‘.
'05 The Tiger Tninert or. Ths Leap:- ot‘thii huh.

“I Bhok Nit-k. the Demon Kid".-
.95 California Joo’n “'ur Trnil.

, BY CAPT. J. F. C. ADAMS.

(I4 liregon Sol: or, Nlrk WMMH'I Roy s”,
“40 Giana-Eye. Hu- Grvai Shot ofthe Wm.
54 all llilzel. the WV Trapper.
“ Nick W'liiillea‘o Pet: or. in The Valley of Death.
0 The White lmlinn: or. The Scout oft o Yn'flom
0 Oil II ’I Oniiin: or,Ths Groanth in the woo“;
l LIII‘III. Jo. the Terror of the Prairie.
Burk ltuekraini or, Bess, the Female Tra nor.
7 (Did Grilnly and ilia Peta; or. The Wll Hunt!“
ht-houle Ligu or, Osooola, tho Flrobralid.

\

 

T e t, “union; or The Undornonnd Conf
Tho “I. King: or. Tho Human Thundaiooi'

t

. ’v’il. MIPS;

BY '1‘. C. ilAIlBAUGII.

28 Nick 0' the Night: or, Thr‘ Boy Spy 01'“.
87 The Hidden Lodge; or The Lililv iiuntor.
4? Nightlu ole hut i-v. 'i'm- i-‘nresiCa ifllll‘.
64,5”...(13' “ck; or, ‘hr- ()uilnws oi the )regon Trail
82 Kit liurei’oot. the Wood-Hawk; or, (lid [’0de a,
94 Midnight Jul-I. ; ur, 'l‘iw liny Trapper.
106 "Id Front” Ihr Guide; or, The “'hitr Queen.
123 Kiowa Charley the White Muahnzer.
189 Jud e Li’nt‘il Jr.t hr. The Ht- ' Viui'mnto.
155 Gal. Trigger, the S‘nvrt; ur,T a Girl Avenger.
169 ’l‘orliiulo ’I‘oiu: or, njun .lacli Frnm Red Cora.
138 Neil Temple, the lturiler‘iioy; or, 'l‘hi- .\l:id Hamel.
199 Arkunfiuw : or. The Qua. n oi Fate's Rovougo.
207 Navajo Nick. the an Goid Hunter.
215 Captain Bullet; i-r, Litiiv Tonkimi‘s Crusado.
till l’lucky I’hll; or. Ron. tho: Ru 1 Jen-bet.
841 Hill liruvo: or. The knuizm‘ n! the Rockies.
255 Cunt-In Anoll ) me Rina—Pin of BowiP.
867 The Iinokakln Detective: or. Tllr King of Rood-oputo.
’79 "Id “’lnoh; nr, The But-Ruin lu-operadm
994 D 'nnmli.e Dani or, The Bowie liimie of Cochotovo.
909 The Mountain Deter-tire: or, 'l‘b Trigger Bar Bully.
816 0“ I'Irlipoe. Trump Card of Arlwnn.
3‘6 The Ten I'Il'dli "l’. The Terror oi Take—Notion.
880 “In Benoon: or. Tho Queen of the Lavao.
.45 i’ltileao Matt; on Red Thumlorhoit’l Socrot.
I56 Cool ham and Par": 0* Tho'i'orrlblo Six.
3“ Velvet Foot, ivllII Indian Detoctlro.
3"“ Captain Outlaw: or, ’he B-*ccanoor’r Girl Foo.
896.Rough Rob or. Tho 'I win Champion: of Blue Diana.
41! The I‘llken .naoot or,’l'ho Rmc Ranch Robin.
418 Felix Fox. the Boy Spottof: or. The Gold Gang of New York.
4“ Texan Trump. ins Border Rattler.
‘80 I’ll“ Flinn, the New York Fox: or.'l‘hi- Mystery oiRoom Si.
445 The City \ umnlreo: or, Red Ruirr‘s Pigeon.
491 One Again-t Filly; or. The Lut Man of Keno Bar.
470 he Boy shadow; or. Felix Fox’s Hunt.
47? he Exooiaior hport: or. The Wuhlngton Spottrl.
499 flingle Night, the Ono-Eyed Sport.
50. Ion. the Night Ferret.

 
    
    
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
       
     
   
 
 

g“ ‘hl'twmli-S y Dunlap c h t: id Gong.
eat e or. he .ot an: o

59“ and the Boweg‘ S‘haduwo.

538 the Dock Ferret.

548 Double: or, The Rival Boy Detouttvao.

558 ’a Deanurute Cline.

568 . the Boy ‘v'iiiorq; or, The Gang of Throo.

578 (Iowa: or. lindcer chk’a Stop Gomo.

53. Drop: or, The Man from Jersey.

594 Street-Si r Detective.

610 r. tlu- Gold . ark: or. Tony Sharp on (hard.
626 pion l’nrda: or, The Lucllor at Silver Bar.
687 the Dock Bur Detective.
645 Yemeni Sharp.
658 the, Bov Beagle.
6% Boy lluaiier: or. Shadowing the Shadow".
0 the Boy :‘luaiclan Do-irctive.
701 red. the. Camera Sharp.
; I; ' wi'ikeI LPen, tin- Qgflki'f ‘City Ferret. B
any .tio "wine-ht otort \'i-'.or Trn in l Como.

74” y lulu, thv Brli lioy Detective. ’ pp I ‘
754 Inka, this Iloan Bur Shadow.
76!! ed. the Boy on Guard: or. The Camp Spidorl.
780 am. the Wizard
3: new"? i M ri.
, v ry or" t or, one: .0."-
897 ‘a Big iiounoe. ’
905 ll get, the Be“ Shadow.
991 on Denver.

By CHARLES HORRIS.
118 Will Borne", the Boy Dstoctxro.
:3: gr“ "only; this Boos 1guy.

(-ayune «to: or, icodemnl the Do Dob:

180 Detective Dick; or, Thu Horn ih Raga.‘ w
149 Illudaonle Harry, the Bmthiark Detect!“
147 \"ill Wildfire. the Thoroughbred.
15' Black "eon. Will Wildfirr’a Racer.
157 Mike Merry th Harbor Police Boy.
169 Will “'ildilre In the “'ooda.
lilii Billy Bnmnge. the Railroad Bo ~.
170 A Trump Card: or. Will \i‘iid rs In. “an...
174 Bob llockottt or, Myxteriea ot'New orh.
179 llol'i Roch-ii. the llnnk Runner.

 '{lle‘lllilddlt‘ll I‘: and; or. Will Wildfire’r Revenge.

‘ ‘rei a ynr . iiw .iie Boat Bov: or. Tho smug".
139 “Oh Iloekt‘tt: or. Drlwu to the “'ail.
196 Shlldowed or. Bob Rockett‘a Fight for Lilo.
206 Dark I’iui . thu 'l‘igvr King.
212 Ila-him: Dave. the Dandy Detective.
290 Tom Tnnm-rt or. The iilnck Sheep oi tho Flori.
995 Rum Cliuroonl tho Pruinium Darky.
 :I‘I'nd'low Barri thrdhioaavnuor Boy.

0 ‘wo .loo in": or, Shenandoah Rlll nod III. on .

85% Dick Dual-away: or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago. a I
269 The \ ouna Slim-poi oi. Roiilckiug Miko’i Hot Trail.
274 Jolly Jim. ilw llvioclli'o Apprentice.
299 Jolly Jilli'a Joh; or. Tllv \oumz Detertlvo.
293 Tim \Vitter-ili-undt or. The Ynung Thoroughbred.
805 ligulmwny, 0i'llukitt.: or, A Writer-n Lad in Quakor City.
3*], Ralph Ready, illflt Hotel Boy Detective.
8.1.1 Tony Thorne. the Vauahnnd Detrittivo.
858 The lleportor-Deteotl rot or. le Flyer'o Dillard.
887 Wide-Awake Joe: or, A Boy oi the Timon.
879 Larry. the Lox-elem or. ’l‘iw. Biumis oi the Boulovard.
403 Firefly Jiu-k. the River-Rut Dolor-tire.
“ii The Loot Finger: or. 'l‘lu- Ruin“.me Cashier.
42“ Fred l’lyor. thi- nt'i nrh-r ilotet-tlvr.
482 Iuvlm-lhlo Locum. the Pinkerton Ferret.
45” “HIV Brit-k. the .lollv Vagabond.

ii Whir-Awnké Jerrv. [Mm-tire; or Entombed Allro.
479 Dotootive Doll 0: qr. ’l‘lw Mvstorv of Frank Hearty.
48! ‘l'ilil I’ll-k "1‘0 'PN or. How He Fought for Honor.

501 lioota. the Boy Fireman : or. Too Sharp for tho Sharper.
bill: The Secret ' m-x-Ioe Boy Detective. -
MM Jlmmv the Kid: or. A anh Amour Waive--

627 Tom rune oi Arkimanrt or.Thu- Wolfln the Fold-
655 I'lm-lay Paul, the Roy Speculation

Ml? Bob and Hum, tho Dali-v Detedivpa.

709 The (‘unlbotone Don-olive: or. Harry Holo'a Big Foot
75'? Deter-five Frunla’a ii‘i't-ep-iiinkril.

969 Neil Nor-Inan. the (v‘vulnln Broker.

831 Turkey Billy. the Si inn-’«m—uu Di-twtira.

917 Flu-ii Lightning, the Mountain Mun-0t.

BY AlJt-lcli'i‘ w. AIKEN.

‘lI 'I‘Ile‘Tfi'fl Detective—i or Thi- Fortunes of B
76 ADE (Will. the Crow-Killer. ' - 0‘“, an].
79 So] Ginger. tlw Giant Tranm-r.
.983 Joe lliioi. of Angela iiurl "In Boy Paul.
447 NVI‘W \ or].- Nnt. A Tale ul'l‘rlckn and Trnpo in Gotham.
45“ Even Engliind Nick: or. The Fortunoo of: Fondling.
4“ h‘illlblo' Vick. tlw (‘ircuii Prince.
498 1 no- 'l‘i-il. tne Arlwnn Sport.
‘19 Cool Colorado, thv Half-Brood Detectivo
‘18 Cool Colorado in New York: or. The Cowboy“ “(LI

IIY CAPT. ALFRED ll. TAYLOR (J. 1‘. I.

191 Bull’an Hilly. the Bar Ruliwhaclror.
194 Bulnlo Blil’o lieu hr. The Gomblor Guido.

 

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents, by all NM

BY J. W. 0830’.

469 The Rival Gin-to ofNowhnr‘.
498 (‘nl'tui- Burr. tho Man from Hard Loch.
537 (Did iiux-kcwe. tho Siom Shadow.

504 Powder Phil, tho Boy Minor. or, Tho In MON
3:: l'i'i‘ihy l’i’rh'ilt'i “'3 "1‘2"" “mu-lit} um uni
. e . n n a n , o . who
«as l’lur-ky aul,t a Bar r53“ '. ,
3:} golii'li'iuni 'i’i'"~"' eowl“)!- .miiockl. any n. 3......

r o ua on a u t or.
998 Gold-Duot lion’o Slop-Shot. .

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER. ‘In

I Yellow-tone J nck; or, The how.

48 Block John the Rood-Agent: or. o Outlaw!“

66 Hurricane Dill; or, blunt-nit Sam and "la Pod.
119 Muotnn Sun-Lorfl‘ha King of tho Plains.
186 NI hind. "wk 'it; or, The Douzhtor of tho I“.
144 Da niiy Lance the Boy Sport.
151 Panther Poul: or,Dsinty Lanoo to the Boat-o.
160 The liluek Giant: or. Dainty Lanco in Joopoldy.
108 Dead] ' Dnoh or, Fighting Fin with Fire.
184 The 0, 'l‘rn lens; or. Dainty Llnco on tho I“
908 The no I'nrdot or. Dainty Lane. Uninoako.
.Il Crookeiiycale, tho Caliban o! Colootlol City.

10 Tho Rom-ion Wolf; or, Th Motif-I .
819 The Black Itider’; onTho Hom-Thlovoo’ I“
.85 Did Double Flat or, Tho Stnniro Gill“
8“ The King oi‘tiu- 'oodut or Dnnlol Bouillon“
449 kit Fox. tho Bordor Bo Douala,
685 Chino-pin Dan, the oi Trailer.
6?? Chlnennin Dnn’o Recon Truil.

(‘ hincnpin Dnn’a "one Stretch.

69R 0 d l‘rnzy, thi» Man “'lthonta Hood.
. chi-llonrt Lutr'a Legno .
71R nglit-lleurt Luie’a Lnat rnil.
728 Silu-rlilnde. the filial-hone.
729 Niven-blade, the Hull-Blood: or, The Bordor M‘-
?89 Silverblnde, the Hostile; or,The Border Ioogh’o'l".
748 Silverblude the Friendly; or,'l'he Border Boogio'ohu

IIY C. BURNING CLARK.

1.50. inP l or,'l'i Bo 8 ottholoontoh.
"0 Th“ “Dz: njnh 1;” onhrlnto of tho Block M

BY LIEUT. II. D. PERRY. U. B. I.

110 The Boy Runaway; or The Bnconnoor oitho h.
130 The Eco Trollergror. A ow Woll Kopt.
19. Captain Kit: or, he hiyotel'y o! Montofl hut.

BY JACK FARRAGUT.

815 Ned, the Cnhln lion or, Tho Witch oi tho M
.90 The Don Boreereoo: or. Tho Boy Skin-or.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.

1'8 Blue Diok' or, The Yellow Chloi’l Vongnco.
87 The Lnnd i’lrntea or, 1m. Loan. or ril'o isi-a.
.7 The lie] looo lion 3 or. Backwood- Bot

.89 The Go] -aeeker Guide! or. Tho Loot no“

BY BRACEBIIIDGE nuns

89 Inland Jill: or. The Pet of tho Fain“ .
I 91 The Capt nI u of the (ll-ha or. Tho luv-i A“
101 Jack llorhnwoy in New York.

I i SOELLAN [0 US AUT-OBIs .

4 The “'lld-lloroe ill-tern. By Capt. ano a
Prod-rich Whittokor.
9 Adventurer of Baron Sin-channel.
l. Gulliver’o Troveio. B Dar-sun.
14 Ainililln; or, Tho Wonde ul 
10 Robinson Cruooe. (91 lllnatrnt ona.)
18 Sindhnd the Sailor. His Saran Voyagoo.
9’ I‘ll? 50. Sci-mutt ".1110 Boy Roblnaoa Oruoo. h J.-

wio. .
88 The (Mean Bloodhound; or, Tho Bod Phi. olitho
Carrth By S. . Piorco.
80 The Boy Clown: or. The Arena Qnooli. Dyl' am
{it Ned “'yltle. the lioy Scout. By Tana Joe .
51 The ltoy IliI‘e-t nr. Tho Underground Comp. By A.C.lrono.
95 The Rival lloverat orI Tho Froobootota oltho Um
By Lieut.~(lvi. Haultlno.
98 Robin flood. the Outlaw“ Earl; ".11:on Noni“
wnod. 8 Prof. Glider-icon.
105 Did Rulie. the Hunter; or,1'ho Crow Cantivo. no”...
Hamli‘iiondllfimoo. In, C or n,
119 T e. n outer: or, 9 an M, Mg...
194 unit]. the Texnn; or, Tho Young Olimpia, p, a...
eflflh.
198 The Young l‘rivnteert or, “no Fir-uh Stronghold. )-
Ha'rry Corendiah.
I43 iliinrp lining or, The Advontnroo ot a [floodi- ~y. by J:
Alexander Patten. i
99'? Dinky Darrell. 'I‘ra : or. Tho Groon haploifioYot-
lowntone. Bv Edward room. '
961 Forum- Fenrnaught the New Y irk Boy. G. La“.
:60 Klilli’iihctibo Guide: MD"! Crochtt’l Tull
B ill i . . anon.
.98 Ridnitl'i'iw. the Onto-Eyed Trappor; or, Tho Md“ 0'.-
Bv Ca thin Cnmatoc .
817 Post‘th 13(2ng the Lively Lad from Loodviih. D, u...
tenant ro orne.
D’fl Thgiflkymlilgteo'flvel or, A Boy’s light for Lilo“ Iloooo.
B oior c o no.
350 Ryed Ralph. {he lllver Roverl «.11.. nsiurs a.
By Ned Bunillne.

 

 

4
9
I
-i

Ven‘Q. .
865 i . ' R the Boothlacli Dotoctivo. A. I m
3&1  1‘::: or. lion’u Donhlo Match. 0 H. m
8?" Cnili‘ornin Joe’o First 'I'rnii. By M

Hover Manitory.
i}: i‘i"i}l°"l?"s"£i‘" “i; ci‘icim‘?‘ ” " " ""“""
‘ e no . r o n anon
on Comanche mail" “a m. Three lnvinclhioo. I,
Honrv J. Thom-a.
‘83 The Cowho Duke. ‘ By Edwin Mob For-t.
:3: ‘A'r'ifil “ill? At loud Iv D;rld Fungi.“ I m
' 'nte- allow om. v.n .~
on n. umi {denim-'- Double. 3. Ger-“Carlton. ‘
721 Maverick Moon. the Arizona Dustin: or.de
l'rlmu l‘wsa. By Will Llnnliro.
809 Don Danton, tho G-ynt from Denver. BY Inn; K"... of.
.14 l‘l.S.“'oro.:.$u¥lc}(‘;rm. p ' u  c E M
:09 fer-en «more. y.-
830 The a5": 1 odror- In it...» Alley; or, can... u
of Numhuv Snell. Br lion D. llullidnv. >
981 The (‘hir-agn Ilrlllnmor’l I‘c-nl. By 1.0.!“
811 lining:- Charlie. the (‘nt’ao I'uw Sport. by 31‘
ll 0‘ “-
ROI llilly Rrinr. the Swamr Fox. By Chou. P.
879 Blur-Hle Bill, the Sapphire Fprtt: or.“
fire’l Lone Hund. By Kim Kano.

A New lune Every Tneoilny.

The Half-Dime Lilirnr Ia tor Ialo n a. rt
oontopor oopy,arlonthyunil  

c. ,

  

 

’ l.’ U" I l I. . .. w-u . . .. -. .‘ . t, .
' ’r‘“. r' " 1" ‘ \l "" . - r  . SM“ n,“_.'r.;§,-,¥,3§r7l.$l’i§fMart;l§,l»z.:,)\;gzi_':fii4guMU

 

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WIT AND HUMOR OF THE BENCH AND BAR. 48 pages.
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 M0THER~m-LAW~ BY “331°11‘03" Illustrations by BOUNG’ED; on. 1131: ADVENTURES or AN Unmet! 
Hopkins. 88 pp., Paper, 8vo. JOHN CA] 1!. Illustrated. Paper, 8vo. ‘

   

 This is one of the most humorous ltortee of the any. Every man and .
Van-n lathe country should read this aeriocomio experience of a man with THE QUIET YOUTH; OR. JUST LIKE HE UNCLE. B PM

lbmother—in—law. who made home torrid for him. and how he succeeded, after 'rOP. ” Illustrated. Piper, large 8vo.
my attempts and failures, in getting rid of her. ‘

 
   
     
 
      
 

, BEANWHACKER'S TROUBLE; on, NOT A Brr Lm an
W3 FIRST BABY; on; THE INFELIOITIES or 01m H EY- UNCLE. A sequel to .. Just Like Big Uncle.» BY Jon
/ noon. By the author of “ My Mother-in-Iaw.” etc. I luso K CARE“. Illustrated. Paper, large 8”. ' .

   

trated. Paper, 8vo. . W .
m. in a witty and charming narration of a young married couple. It pre- DEACON WGLES AND HIS LIVER PAD- 3' wml
Fm vividly the first attempt. at a young hmhand at housekeeping. WANDER. Illustrated. 64 pp., Paper, 8vo. I
. . " v This book is a humorous record of the Deeoon‘e frantic With“
m V IN   A. WIFE.  the author 0f " Our mum; enemy of the hum race—the dreaded Lxm PAD.

, First Baby," etc. 64 pp., Paper, 8vo. ‘ . . 4}.
’l'hieetory It not founded on fact. but there b so much comical human THE KNIGHTS OF PYTHIAS SHOWN 01" B, “ml '

        
     
     
     
   

    

. nature in it that truth couldn‘t make it any boner. It should be me by evory‘ TOE" Illustrated Paper, 8‘70. “ Don’t make any mb
. ' hodyoontemplntlng the great lottery of marriage. Laugheth illustrated by take. ” .
WWorth. ,
\ _ JOINING THE GRANGERS; on, EXPERIENCE or We.
{FARMING FOR FUN; on, BACKYARD GRANGEns. Br " Batcx- Dom“, By the author of u My Motherbhw.» “
‘ my Illustrated by Thomas Worth. Paper, large Svo. pp” 13mm ‘ _ '

   

, A laughable story. The experience of Timothy Budd and his wife at city - ‘ ,,
gardening in mm of fun; and thoulnnde whoread it will exclaim: “I‘ve DRY GOODS .DRUMMER. Br Ton Women. 88 pp., 1036» -'(
been there I" ' I This b one of the funniest of all the Laughing Serial. and its (unpaid lib

r .lPARSON BEECHER AND we ‘ HORSE. Br “Bummer.” mfimfifibfimfinfini’figfi’f;$3,?“ "° W“

Illustrated by Thomas Worth 96 pp., Paper, large 121110. _ 2 3
Thiahathorouahly enjoyable hook. hrimlnlottreeh. hulllu‘nt humorand TRIP OF THE SARDINE CLUB- BY “ BMW!“ 93 P30,

' mum. situations. the author claiming it to he the but at u- m hm 16mm Profusely Illustrated by Thomas Woflh; _ :
“productions. . Thu hook is full of fun nd sentiment. giving peraonal observation. fl. 3
Mortal reminiscence: of lace. on the Hudaon between New York an“

_ FEED DOUGLAS AND HIS MULE. Companion to “Person “my. - ,
m” “d m"m 33' a” “m’ “m' mwmd' BCRAPES or FARMER SKOOPENDYKE. mm In
" huge ' ‘ ' ° buys a Billy Goat. He Gives Widow Snug; u-Sleigh-ride

hamrydtbbtomitdealawnhpeoplewho“me”andwll .
blouth popul- who-“varmotmmom mammal“ El“ Experienc" With D“ Bungle- '3‘“- w.“
. etc., etc. Paper, Svo. 80 pages. . ' .

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I » x Hustler Harry. the

.1. ' . _‘ I

H BEADLE’SrDIMEruBRARY.

- Midshed Every  Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers

 

a

 

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER. JR.

928 Old Sobersides, the Detective of St. Louis.
9% White-Horse Wheeler, the Revenue Detective.
918 The Double Edgel Detective.
907 Maverick Mark. the Man from Nowhere.
898 Silky steele. the Stay-in Sport.
'34 T e Spotter-S ort s N ctr—Tie Party.
870 High- Vater am; or. Silver—Tip Std.
362 Riata. Rob. the Range Chain mm.
855 The. C \hov Chief‘s Sure-S at.
848 The Rival Bed-Hut Sports.
887 Curly Kid. the Cheyenne Sport.
824 The 801. Hand DFtt ctive.
815 The Soft R-md’s Clutch.
Em Dan Du 2n the Soft—Hand Sport.
- 796 The Frisco lletectlve’s Thug‘Tangle.
1% Sam Cary. the Rive: S .,rt.
‘ 80 The Dead Spt rt‘s Dou lr‘.
(71 Prince John. Detective S eclal.
763 Dandy Don, the Denv r etectlve.
754 the Man from Tex ; or, Dangerfield. the
Doctor Detective. ,
I 744 Swee takes Sam, the Silver Sport.
720 The cret Sir or, O.d Halcyon.
712 The Man 01 Silk. .
m tam Bob. the Brant from Butte.
698 ent Kasson, the Preac er Sport.
683 Bob Breeze, the Rounder Detective.
675 Steel Sorry, the Sport in m Sunrise,
668 Solemn Saul‘s Luck Strt ak
661 The Get-There Sharp.
651 SilValip St ve, the Sky 8cm r from SisKiyou.
645 Gopher Gabe, the Unswn De -tive.
686 D y Darling, ective.
627 Mosshack Mose, the Mountaineer.
617 The Grip Sack .Sharp’s Evon up. -
597 Big Bandy. 1h" lLl'igatlier of Brimstone Butte.
Sandy sends. the Sharp from Snap City.
576 Sliver-Tonguod Sid: or. Grip Sack Sharp‘s Sweep.
564 The Gl-ipSack Sharp; or, The Seraphsof Sodom.
555 GripSack Sid. the Sample Sport. -
547 the Buried Detective; or. Sn l’s Six Sensations.
541 Major Magnet, the .‘Iiun of Nerve.
585 Dandy Dutch. the Dem rntor from Dead—Lift
527 Dandy Andy, the Diamond Detective.
514 Gabe Gun). the Grizzly from Ginseng.
501 Solemn Saul. the Sad [an from b‘an Saba.
495 Rattlepate Rob; or. The. Roundhead's Reprisal
488 The Thorn nbred Sport.
474 Daddv Dee. -Eye, the Dermot 01' Dew Drop.
4 Owl Rough and Ready, the Sage of Sundown
Dutch Danathe Pilgrim from Spitzenberg.
443 A Cool Hand: or. Pistol Johnny’s Picnic.
488 Oklahoma Nick.
,483 La hing Leo; or. Sam‘s Dandy Pard.
(26 The host Detective: or. The Secret Service Spy.
416 Monte Jim. thelltamc Sheep of Bismarck.
=09 Rob Roy Ranch: or, The imps of Pan Handle.
10:: The Nameless Sport.
895 Dec dly Aim. the Duke of Derringers.
N? D ll‘K Durg. the Ishmael of the Hills.
M Captain Crisp. the Man with a Record.
"867 A Royal Flush; or. Dan Brown‘s Mg Game.
860 Jumping Jerry. the Gamecock from Sundown.
855 Storm Steve. the Mad Athlete.
851 Nor‘ est Nick. the Bonier Detective.
S45 Masked Mark. the Mounted Detective. «
81D Spread Eagle Sun. the Hercules de Hunter.
831 Chispa Charley. the Gold Nugget rt. .
817 ‘rank Lighttoot. the Miner Detective.
202 oke Homer. the Boss Rmstabout.
Ill Pistol Johnny; or. One Man in a Thousand.
$8 Sleek Sam. the Bowl of the Mines. '
257 Death Trap Diggings: or. A Man 'Way Back
249 Elephan Tom. 0 Duranlzo.
‘ 841891tflm . King of the Bustiers.
883 The Old 20y of Tombstone.
an Pirate of the Pincers: or. Joaquin's Death Hunt
1w Old ‘49; or. The Amazon of Arizona.
170 Sweet William. the Trapper Detective.
155 Joaauin. the Terrible
154 Joaquin, the Saddle King. ‘
141 Equinox Tom. the Bul’ ' of Red Rock.
119 Alabama Joe: or. The ‘azoo Man-Hunters.
:05 Dan Brown of Denvar: or. The Detective. '
Big George; or. The Five Outlaw Brothers.
71 Captain 0001 Blade: or. Mississippi Man Shark.
67 The Boy Jockey: or, Honesty vs. Crookedness.
50 Jack Rabbit, the Prairie Sport.

' BY was. a. PATTEN.

.10 Fire-E e. the Thug’s Terror.
01d ht-Hawk, the Crook Shadower.
The Prin e of New York Crooks.

r 756 Old Burke, the Madison Square Detective.
747 Jennie-voice Dan 5 Double Disguise. .
git): gaggle??? n :1? 133°“ Dec 1) tectl

e- e a e \vsvs n- k e vs
no Donnie-Voice Dag: the Go-i't one Detective.
3 i‘iifi”"°n'.i”m

cane . the Cowboy Hotspur.‘
an Old True Blue, the Thur ,

_ an The Giant

 

541 Aztec Jack. the am Nomad.

% g??? 013"" "'° “it”? “osmium
a n am one. 03- mm .

71 Ol Dismal. t e Ran e Detective.

whey Sport.

BY GEORGE C. JEN“

,  The Arizona Detective.

Silver Sam. the Shasta Sport.
The Silver Sport‘s Double.
'%e MCGUISZO Detective.
- e Hayseed tectiVe. ‘

on. th Twister Detective .
Cord e V

“Pt. Tommi“
, “Wm

lamps '

 

‘1“ WILLIAM R. nits/rut.

916 Two Dead-Square Sports.

902 Soft Velvet. the Man trom Sandrock.

891 Genteel Jim. Sport-at—Large.

881 The Clublnan-Crook‘s Cat's-paw.

867 The Frisco Sport. 4

852 The Stra: ger S ort‘s Shake-up. I

828 Kirk King. the an from Kirby.

818 Gentleman Dave. the Dead Game Sport

783 The King-Pin Tramp.-

767 The Sport of rilver Bend.

718 Once Bedrock‘s Big Bounce.

707 The Rival Rovers.

687 Double Cinch Dan, the Sport With a Charm.
677 Mr. Jackson, the Gent from Jaybim.

659 Gilt~Edge Johnny; or, Roldan and His Rovers.
50 Luck Lester’s Lone Hand.

634 Old andcart‘s Big Dump.

622 The All Around Sports.

603 Desert All. the Man With the Cougar.

590 Gentle Jack. the High Roller from Humbug.

1578 Seven Shot Steve, the Sport with a Smile.

568 The Dude Detective.

.558 Hurrah Harry. the High Horse from Halcyon.
r 549 Belshazzar

Brick, the Baillfl'. 01! Blue Blazes.
588 own. the Sport WithaScar.

508 The ude from Denver. . ,

478 Pinnacle Pete; or. The Fool from Way Back.
459 Meier Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives.

429 Ha r Trigger Tom of Red llend.

402 Snapshot Sam; or. The Angels‘ Fiat Racket.
396 The Piper Detective; or, The Gilt Edge Gang.
375 Royal George, the Three in One.

356 Thr e Handsome S orts; or, The Combination.
333 Derringer Dick. the an with the Drop.

268 Magic Mike “1e Man of Frills.

229 Captain Cutsleeve: or. The Little Sport.

214 The Two Cool Sports; or. Gertie of the Gulch.
182 Hands Upt or, The Knights of the Canyon.

160 Soft Hand. Sharp: or. Th” Man with the. Sand.
145 Pistol Panda; or, The Silent Sport from Cinnabar

BY NED BUNTLINB.

657 Long Torn. the Privateer.

633 The Sea S y.

621 The Red rivateer; or. The Midshipman Rover.

513i Fire Feather. the Buccaneer King.

517 Buffalo Bill‘s First Trail.

861 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot.

122 Soul Sabberday. the idiot Spy.

111 The Smuggler Captain: or. The Skipper’s Crime.
18 The Sea Bandit: or, The Queen of the Isle.
16 The White Wizard; Or. The Seminole Prophet.

BY JACKSON KNOX-“ 01d Hawk.”

838-011 Grips Still Hunt.

8% Detective Walden 5 Web. .

778 The Butler Dctective‘ or, Old Grip’s Grip
770 The Showman Dete i ve.

702 Old Grip. the De't'ctivs.

740 Capt Vin Clew, the Fighting Detective.

782 The Hurricane Detective. -

648 Castiemaine, the Silent Sifter.

616 Magnus. the Weird Detective.

em The Drop Detective.

595 "Wellborn. the. Upper Crust Detective.

562 Joram. the Detective Expert.

574 Old Falcon ’2: Double.

561 The Thug King- or, The Falcon Detective‘s Foe.

Falconbri e. t. e Sphinx Detective.

Old 1“ icon s Foe: or. The Detective's Swell Job.
\515 Short top Ma‘s. the Diamond Field Detective.
509 Old Falcon. t e Thunderbolt Detective.

501 Springsteel Steve. the Retired Detective,

4N T c Dl-tectlve’s 81%.
485 Rowiock. the Ear r Detective.

477 Dead-arm Brandt.

457 Malnwaring. the Salamander.

462 The Cincus Detective.

451 Griploc‘k. the Rocket Detective.

444 The Magic Detective: or, The Hidden Band.
424 Hawk Heron‘s De uty. ’

886 Hawk Heron. the alcon We.

BY J. o. cownnicx.

752 The Bus t Sport of Daisy Drift.

626 Ducats .n t 1e Nabob Sport Detective.

612 Sheriff Stillwood. the Regulator of Raspberry.
598 The Dominic Detective.

591 Duke Daniels, the Society Detective.

580 Shadowing a Shadow.

565 Prince Paul. the Postman Detective.

557 The Mouutain Graybeards: or. Riddleo‘ Riddle.
519 Old Riddles. the Root};o er

499 Twilight Charlie. the ad port.

478 Gilbert of Gotham. the Steel-arm Detective.

43% Rainbow Rob. the Tulip from Texas.

4 Kentucky Jean. the 8 rt from Yellow Pine. .
422 Blue Grass Burt. the old Star ive.

890 The Giant Cupid: or Cibnta John’s uhiieo.

BY EDWARD WILLI".

488 Flash Fred: the River Shim:e t

888 The Canyon King: or. a on his Head.

348 Dan n. King of Crosscut.

837 Old Gabe the Mountain Tram .

327 Terrapin ck the Wildwood. tectlve.

315 Flush Fred’s Double: or, The Squatten’ [some
$8 Hemlock Hank. Tough and True.

298 Logger Lem: or. Lift in the Pine Woods.

289 Flush Fred's Full Hand.

274 Flush Fred, the Mississippi Sport.

848 Montana. Nat. the Lion 0 Last Chance Camp.
222 Bill the Blizzard: or. Red Jack‘s Crime.
209 Buck Earle . the Bonsnaa Prince. .
120 Mislulppi one; or. a Strong Man's Sacrifice.

mt oansm Karim 3m .
II? The White Squaw.
284 The Hunter‘s Faust.
21* The Wild “entrees; or._Tho Squat”.
fl ~

Ill) The Rifle Ran m;.or..Ad
vanilla 

74‘
  '.

 

BY COL. PBEN'I‘ISS INGRAIIAHI.

911 The Blue Blockader; or, The Coast Grayhotmd. I

906 The Cuban Cruiser.

854 Tue Ocean Gipsy.

EPA The Wild Steer Riders;or, Texas Jack‘s Terrors.

810 The Rival Monte Cn‘stos.

805 The List of the Pirates; or. Dorm Driven.

801 The Water Wolves’ Detective; or, Tram the

Grave Ghouls.

791 The Coast~Raider‘s Death-Chase.

748 Arizona Charlie, the Crack-shot Detective.

704 [nvisinle Ivan the Wizard Detective.

685 The Red-skin Sea Rovrr.

679 Revello. the Pirate Cruiser; or. The Rival Rover!

672 The Red Rapier; or, The sea Rover-’3 Bride.

662 The Jew Dr tcciive: or, The Beautiful Confld.

640 The Rov r‘s Ret ibution.

635 The Ex Buccaneu‘: or. The Stigma of Sin.

625 Red Wings; or, The Gold Seekers of the Bahamas.

315 I'l‘he filé‘fiu‘iicanemwm Wings 1 11 Deep
10 ‘he over;or, ie 0 t e

605 The Shadow Silver Ship. ‘

600 The Silver Ship: or, The Sea Senate of ‘76.

593 The Sea Rebel: or. Red Rovers ortbe Revolution.

59.7 Conrad. the Sailor Spy; or. True He'ants of ‘7‘.

581 The Outlawsd Skipper; or, The Gantiet Rule.

560 The Man from Mexico.

553 )ia.k Monte, the Mutineer; or. The Branded Brig.

546 Th Doomed Whaler: or. The Life  ’

'530 The Savages of the Sea.

524 The Sea Chaser; or, The Pirate Nobb.
510 El Moro, th- Corsair Commodore. =
493 The Scouts of the Sea. ' ‘
457 The Sea Insurgent: or. The Consph'ator Son.
446 Ocean Ogre. the Outcast Corinth
435 The One-Armed Buccaneer. ‘~'.
430 The Fatal Frigate; or. Rivals in Loren-d Wan.
399 The New Monte Cristo.
The Convict Captian.

% Afloat and Ashore: or. The Corsair Conspirator.

369 The Coast Corsair: or. The Siren of the Sea.
364 The Sea Fugitive: or. The Queen of the Coast.
311 The Sea Desperado.

836 The Magic Snip- or, Sandy Hook Freebooters.
3:5 The Gentleman irate; or. The Casco Her-mill.
318 The Indian tmccaneer: or. 'I he Red Rovers.

307 The Phantom Pilate; or. The Water Wolves.
255 The Pirate Priest; or, The Gambler's Da hut.
246 new Helen, the Amazon of the Over

‘85 (1 Lightning the Man of Chance. ‘

234 Black Beam.= the Buccaneer.

220 The Specter Yacht; or, A Brother's Crime.

210 Buccaneer Bess. the Lioness oi’ the Sea.

205 The Gambler Pirate; or. Lady of the Lagoon.
198 The Skeleton Schooner: or. The Skimmer.

184 The Scarlet Schooner: or. The Sea honest
104 Montezuma. the Merciless.

108 Merle, the Mutineer; or. The Red Anchor”

I]! PHILIP 8. WARNE.

803 Dan Dirk, King of No Man‘s Land.
58% Captain Adair. the Cattle Kin .
567 Captain Midnight. the Man 0 Craft.
5‘4”? ggggtack to Ba'fk Pads.
am ion me.
uck, the Centaur of the Plains.
472 Six Foot Si: or, The Man to “ Tie To."
431 California Kit, the Always Jn Hand.
404 Silver Sid; or. A “ Daisy " Blufl.
380 Tiger Dick's Pied : or, The Golden W

338 Jack Sands. the Boss of the Town.
539 Three of aKind: or, Dick. Despard and theSpa‘
251 Tiger Dick vs. iron Dos .
807 Old Hard Head: or. W rlwind and his Mars.
171 Tiger Dick. the Man of the iron Heart.

114 The Gentleman from Pike.

80 A Man of Nerve; or. Caliban the Dwarf.

54 Always on Hand; or. The Foot-Hills

29 Tiger Dick. Faro King: or. The Cashier's 01"

4 The Kidnapper; or, The Northwest W

BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON.

823 Hotspnr Hugh; or. The Banded Brothers.
811 Heavy Hand: or. The Marked Men.
8115 Silver-Plated 801, the Montana Rover.
291 Horseshoe Bank. the Man of Big Lua.
285 Lightnin Bolt, the Canyon Terror.
276 Texa - Ch ck the Southwest Detective.
271 Stoneflst. of Big Nugmt Benn.
266 leopard Luke the in o! Horse-Thieves
$3 iron-Armed Abe, the unchback W
as Bullet Read, the Colorado Bravo. ’
887 innfifiaired Max; or, The '
g; ape boltJ Bern'ilhe Mw-Hltxlzllteiof Id 0. -.
nyon ave, . clone e 0111! ..
2.19 The Scorpion Brothers; or. Mad Tom
at: Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide.
194 Don Sombrero the California Road Gent.
175 Lsdv Jamar. the Robber Queen.
BY 0.1.]. “03188.
619 Kit Ba & Co . the V
148 Mm... 1... i... seen...
99 he Giant Kinsman: 0r. Wild Compute.
43 ota Dan. the Reckless W.

BY con. Talon.“ 3.; nm‘.
3'5 Walonsllm: 'The' loam. at the“,
150 E1 Ru o-Brevo. £1an the Sword-Inca.

BY all. sorts. Wanna. .

   

        
      

         
       
       
       
       
    

        
 
        
   
   
 
   

    

 

   
   
   
     
 
    
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
     
 
    
    
    
    
     
  
  
    
  
 
   
   
    
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
     
 
      
   
  
  
    
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
   
    
      

  

 

Ten Cents a

Copy- J
W

lllllll  ‘ * fl «  lllll
5 Bill  f  # [llMll

“ luleis linlalu.

Each Number.
Complete.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\

 

 

 

 

 

 

984 Buffalo Bill's Life Raffle; or. The Doomed 822 Buffalo Bill's Best Bower: or, Montebello the 653 The Lasso King’s League; or. The Tigers of
Three. BY COL P. Ingraham- Gold King. By Col. Prentiss lngralmm. Texas. By Colonel Pfentiss Ingraham. ‘
979 Buffalo Bill's Relentless Trail. By Colonel 820 White Beaver's Still Hunt: or. The Miner 649 Buck Taylor, the Saddle King. Buffalo Bur. ‘
Prenuu Ingraham, Marnuder’s Death-Track. By Buffalo Ulll. gm“ “1' scouts, By COL P, Ingraham,
973 The Dread Shot F0 . 816 iufl'alo l’iill's Rod Trail; or, The Road-Rider 344. nurmlo mn's Bonanza; or, The Knights of
. l’laJns. By Col. “2‘? 25'6de Pard‘ 0‘ the Remmde 8 Run Down- By 001- P- Ingraham. the Silver Circle. By Col. 1’. Ingrahnm.
. . 812 Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knell: or, The Red Hand 9 K'n - r M ntebeuo, the Mag-um-
gm 13:31.0 ggynsmgn‘ég‘ccxlggz' ogkaégPaBleggig: Riders of the Rockies. By Col. P. Ingrahum. 63 Zghet.Gollg. Surfing: 'Bm?
hflm- . ‘ 07 “'1” Bm- the Wild “‘3‘ Duals“ “K'- The Girl 629 Buffalo Bill's Daring Role; or, Dnredeath
9" Buffalo Bu” Blue Ben Bngwe; or, Sun‘ Mascot of Moonlight lVllne. By Buffalo Bill. Dick, King of the Cowboys. By Leon Lew”
‘ flower Sam or Shasta. 13y col, 15 Ingraham. 807 Wild Bill. the “lid “est Duelist; or, l‘he Girl 599 The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pat-d. of the
‘ .966 Buffalo Bill's Volunteer VigilanteS' or Thel gqangtlllnmph' the COWboy Chief. By Bug- Plums. “y Burtalo Bi“.
l M sterlous Man in Blu . B' ‘ ') ' -. a“ ' 517 Buffalo Bill‘s First Trail: or, Will Cod , the
[min e ) Lo" 1' Ingrd 794 Buffalo Bill's “'lnnlng‘ Hand; (11‘. The Masked pony Express Rider. By Ned Bumlme}:
950 Bumuo Bill at. Bay: or, The Gold Seeker's flgfli’lfif the Comm“ “my” B” CO" P' 414 Red Renard. the lmllnnd Detfictlgezfl or. l’f‘l‘lle
“’ 1"(‘l fCl o. ' ualo .
Doom' By COL P' Ingmham' 787 Buffalo Bill's DeaiShot:or.'HleSkeleton Scout GO d Lu“ W S ,0 O Ora ) ,
943 Buffalo Bill’s Block Game- or The M t d ~ .. . ‘ ... . . 401 The One—Armed Pam; or, Red Retribution in
M! f m 0’ l l , Gun 8 of the Lololado. B) Lol. llmntiss Ingralldm. Borderland By Buffalo Bm
“:5” ° 9 ‘8’ and' B” CO" P~ 1mm” 781 Buffalo Bill’s Brand; or, The Brimstone q ' . ' h B ' ,
936 , Brotl‘lerhood. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 3‘7 T :“Wézarguggfifhfimv 0’" “I “9 93‘9"
BE II “0 Bm 3 Rule“ Pard: 05 The G°ldl777 Buffalo Bill‘s! Spy—Shadower; or, The Masked . .' v '
comers of the Big Horn. 13y (,ol. P. Ingra- ., . ‘ 394 \V hlte Beaver. the Exile of the Platte; or,
ham Men at Grand (unyon. By (,01. P. Ingraham. A wronged Maws Red Tm” By Bunalo
' , ""3 R ffrlo Bill's B.n; r, C d' u the Rescue. - '
927 guffalo Bill‘s Bluff: or, Dusky Dick, the H 1;; 114mm 1103.18} 0 0 3 ‘ o 0 Bill. " '
port. By (,01. L Ingmharm 769 Puma“ Pm“; qwmpqtqkw Or The “film out of}- Buffalo 1311 s Prlxi, or,h0ath-bound to Custer.
, H " . » r. )  -( , . o .-. j. ""155 nvrt .m.
9214$ggi§103y1313018 Bgefingélarblhggihazflvet 131118 at Last Chance. By Col. brentlss lngrahzlm. .320 Rims; :51.“ plpdbéi dm. The ngue of
. ' ' . ' 70:. Buffalo Bill's Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam. uni-e. 13' col. 1’. ln'rr; helm.
9‘5 52:?12  flax}: iggm“ns?°gt; of; (fo' “5' "0L 1”“‘ml55 1“*~’"‘“"”‘- 319 mm Bill) the \V'lllrl\:lrld of the West By
gnmfi’m'_ ‘ er' 5 0' ' m 761 Zuffalo Bill's Mascot; or, Tim Donih Valley Buffah, Bin. ' ‘
Victim No. 13. By Col. Prentiss Ingrallam. 3m TE _ .. .
v . . - was Jack, tho Prallie Rattler, or, The
909   Red mum!" By 757 {luffalo Illigll‘s‘ 11)!)L11l.»19:tflf. 'Il‘hv Illvsnemdo “8- Queen or the Wild Riders. 13y Buffalo Bill.
r r . “Gnu” y 3‘" Ten ‘55 “gmmm‘ 213 The Pil'rim Fharp' or The Soldier‘s Sweet-
?“ ficflcaklhiflg/IZnTEFllfilnyrrf/‘ffigkgr' Senélfimfif‘ 750 iui’fulo liill's Big Four; or, (.‘uster's Shadow. l’l“:ll‘l. Lily Buffalo lli'll, Government Scout
In‘u'mam‘ ’ y ‘ ' By t‘ol. Prentiss Ingraham. and Guido.
. ._ . , _. 74: Buffalo Bill's Flush Hand; or. Tnxas Jack's1 189 Wild lml's Cold Trail; or. The Des rate
, 900 Suggshgllgrfmlgvh  Bravos. By (‘01. Prentiss Ingraham. Dozen. lly Col. 1”. Ingrallam. De
. ‘ ~ , , . ,, ,' 739 Buffalo I’llll's lllinll; or, The Maskcd Driver 175 Wild lllll's 'T‘rulnljl Parr]; or, The Indian
895 3:37:11: 23;} zofiecllfiénagiyangina]: 19"“‘3 of Death's Canyon. lly ('ol. l’rl-ntiss Ingra-i Heiress. B‘y Col. l’l'cllli;~‘s Ingrallam.
" ' ' ““m' 'lm \\"ll 1"]! x v v » .
I . . ., . Y . l 1- ll .1 , th llstol Dmd Shot. or, Dagger l
880 BTilrralo gnu: Ingge—otalgelipr. The Pledbed 73:. lzumllo mm and ms Mom- Mon: or, The Don'sDoublv. liy Col. Prentiss lngraham.
wee. y 0 ' ' "bid mm. ““mn Hm"! RWMH‘ 2y (7“1‘ Phlmiss 11mm“ 158 Buffalo l'iill (‘hiof of Sl-(vllt‘r or The Doomed '
882 The Three Bills; Bufi'ulo Bill, will Bill and ham. Dozen. l:y'lh~. lvmnlc'l'ow'o'll. ' ‘ ‘
 gang-115°?» Bi“; “r' “‘8 “WW ”‘ “madam” 731 “Will” “‘11'5 788551”; 0" Silk Lasso Sflm- 117 nurrlllo Rill‘s Strange Pard' or Dashing
- y 0' ' ,Ingmham', “y CUI‘ Pmmiss Ingmmlm' . Dandy, the llotspur of the Hills. 'By Major
844 Buffalg» Bill S iuckskm Br‘aves: or. The Cardin?! Buffalo Bill’s linily Guard; or, The Still Hunt 1). llurr.
Que-2n 3 Last une. lly tol. l’. Ingrahamw of the Hills. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahum.  93 “Uffnlo um. um Bllrkskjn ' King. or, The
869 Buffalo Bill's Roar] Agent Round-Up; or. The 72:! lhlffalo Hill on the \Var Path; or, Silk Lansol Alllazon of the \\'est. Hy Major Dangerfield -.‘~
Mysterious Masked Man in Black. By Col. Sam. the Will-0'—the-\’Visp. By Col. P. [11- liurr. 
P- Ingmham- _ graham I 83 lold nullot Sport: or, The Knights of the a
863 Buffalo Bill's Death-Charm; or, The Mall 116 Bulfan Bill's Scout Shmlmvors: or. Emor- UV't‘l'lulld. By Buffalo Bill. ’
With the Scar- By Col. Prentiss lngruhmn. ald bid of Devil's Acre. By Col. P. lngrahaml 52 Death Tl'allol‘, the Chief of Scouts: cr. Life
857 Buffalo Bill's Royal Flush; or, The Pony In. 710 Buffalo Bill Bllilil-d; or, The Ilesorter Dos- and Love in a. Frontier Fort. 15y Buffalo
der's Lentil-Run. By Col. Prentiss Ingm- lwl'zulos Defiant-v. By Col. 1'. lngruham. 13111.
ham' 697 Buffalo Bill's tuckskln Brotherhood: or, V ‘ , , ‘
851 Buffalo Billis Double Dilemma; or, The Great 099mm: 1'0 11 11°?“ Trim- U-V COL 1’- ln'l NE“ ISSI‘ES ’10 COME'
' ’, Scout's Big Three- “3' COL 1’. IIIKI‘nhflm. : gmm‘m- T] D m [985 Tho Long-Haired Pards: or. The Tartan! of ‘ "
345 Buffalo Buys Redskin Ruse; or. Texas Jack's 691 Buffalo Bill's Blinlinrail:  .lo  or; the Plalns. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 
Death Shot. By (fol. l’rlrlltisa lngraham. l ‘Uf nhf‘ "Pult‘neflt. B)  lghlfidmgmfl Tron “3.1M. the Swordmasten By Col. Thos‘ r,
839 The Ranch Kin;r Pealmfllot; or. Texas Jack'si 082 flutgcmt . (’T‘ (0 1‘11 - 3 81ml lloyCl' Monstel'y. 
Proxy" BY 3" a 0 5 ’ ‘ " ' . .‘ m7 Shmlrach the Sport Detective' or The Secret - 1’
830 Buffalo Bill's Boys in Blue: or, Th:- llrilnstoneim'l Buffalo Hill 9 swoop: or. the King of the Seven By John w‘ 05b0,]. mglfl

Mini-s. 13y Col. Prentiss Ingruham.

. (1'. Bl t- it. By Col. P. Ingraham.
31“ q n m The Cowboy Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas. 988 Rocky Mountain Rob. the California Outawg 5'

826 Buffalo Bill's Sham-Shooters; or, The Surgeon' 658

Scout to the Rescue. By Col. P. Ingraham. I By Colonel Prentiss Ingrallam. ‘ By Albert w. AikmL

 

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