i ' OLD STRATEGY,

" ECKLESS ROLL, THE BOY RANGER.

——».~...,.‘.. _. _

BY OLL COOMES

I

‘ NEW YORK'
 'BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS.

W \VILLIAM STREET. ’

 

firmed according to Act of Congress, In the you mug
BEADLE AND ADAMS.
a m once of the Librarmn or Coupon, M. Washa-

 

OLD ST E ATE GY

CHAPTER 1.
OLD s'rm'rmr.

Winn had fallen black, starless, wild. The purple moun-
tains had lost themselves in the double darkness of night and
stem. Nearer, over valley and plain, the low-lying clouds
brooded darkly, and the rising wind sighed fitfully, sweeping
up the valley, sobbing through the tree—tops, then rushing on,
died away in the mountain gorges in peels as of satanic laugh— ’
ter. The lightning quivered in lurid bars along the sky—now
leaping in its awful revelry, as it were, from mountain peak to
peak—followed by the deeptoned thunder in peels that seamen

,yt5 shake the earth to its very center.

Dobm deep in the gloom of the forest» that bordered the
north fork of the Platte river, near the mouth of the Sweet-
water, within the shadow of the Black Hills, 3 cheery camp-
fire was burning. Within its light two men were seated, on-

' gagedin conversation. Both were young, scarcely five-und-
tfienty. One was dressed in the style of garb usually worn
by the western hunter, the other in a garb half—civilized and
half-savage. The one had dark-brown hair and eyes,
a free, open countenance, and a form of strong physical

;‘ mold. The other had dark eyes, dark hair and dark features
was not so tall as his companion, hut heavier set. Bull]
possessed weapons of superior kind _and finish.

. The place selected by the young men for their amp wm

beneath a wide, arching tree, well calculated to protect them.

in _1 great measure, from the approaching storm; and h

_ ,muenee of this partial security they experienced no II-
. "was: and chatted on quite freely

 

A 10 ‘ OLD srna’mer,

“ We have every indication of a severe storm, Ralph," said
Henry Eustace, the man in the hunter’s garb.

“ Yes," replied his companion, Ralph Dickens. “But this
old pine will shelter us from the rain ; and, as to the red-
skins, we’ll have to trust to our own eyes and ears.” ’

“ Well, there are Indians in the neighborhood, certain; .but ,
I have no more fear of them than of the road-agents or mail: V '

‘ robbers who have their dens in these hills.” '

“ That’s true, Eustace; the robbers are our worst enemies,
and wouldn’t hesitate to cut a man’s throat for the rags on hh
back. It’s lucky that we met to-day; I haven’t seen you since
last spring when you were up here on a hunting expedition.
Haven’t been at Harper’s settlement for six months."

Henry Eustace turned his head to conceal the sudden flush .
that swept over his face, as Dickens concluded his last sex»
tence.

Ralph continued, as Henry made no reply :

“ I presume the settlement has improved since then ; I know
our place has more than doubled in its number of settlers in
that time." .

“ Yes, several families have been added to Harper’s settle-
ment this summer,” said Henry. _7

“ I guess I’ll come down to your settlement before a great ,
while and’ spend a few days with you, Henry. Just think how
unsocial we’ve been. Known each other for five years and I
live only fifty miles apart, yet see each other but once or twice . ‘
a year. But, by the way: how does Roland Rashleigh and
Edna Harper get on? Heard once they were married. Any
truth in the story ?”

“ Not a whit ” replied Eustace, trying to hide his embarrass-
ment; “ The report has reached our settlement that Rash-

‘leigh is the leader of a regular band of robbers, an :1 it is, .,
partly my business up here to inquire into the matter. laser V, K
the next time he visits our place he will be arrested.” 2;

“ Ha! ha I” laughed Dickens. “ That’s a good one on ‘
Maud, for all he’s as innocent as I am.”

And so the conversation drifted on between the two men,
for some time; and all the while the storm-cloud came troop-'
ing up from the north-west like a misshapen piratical \ i ,
waft. The lightning flashed brighter, the thunder rolled ‘; w

 

me man vnxrmmqursr. I!

'nearer and the wind roared louder. Presently the rain began

to fall in great drops that sounded like hail as it rattled down
among the leaves.

The conversation of the two men now ceased. Henry
EJstace wrapped a gum blanket around him, and then stretched
himself at the foot of their sheltering tree upon the ground,

' using his saddle to support his head. Ralph filled his pipe
with tobacco, lit it, and, rifle in hand, began pacing to and

I fro near the fire—performing the duty of guard while Eustace
slept.

, Wearied with his day's ride, and lulled by the steady roar

' of the elements, Henry soon fell asleep. How long he slept
he knew not, but presently he was aroused by a slight noise.
He arose to a sitting posture and gazed drowsily about him.

Was that reality that met his View? Surely not. He
rubbed his eyes and bit his lip to assure himself that he was
not dreaming. Yes it was. He could not drive the horrible
night away. There, before him, with leeriug and diabolical

. faces, stood five grim, stalwart and hideous savages !

Ralph Dickens was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment Eustace seemed paralyzed by the presence of
the savage (lemons standing there so grim and silent, each
'clutching the haft of a knive. But, he was not long in com-
ing to a true sense of his situation. Whether dead or alive,
\Ralph was gone and he was at the mercy of the savages.

. Quickly the questions flashed in his excited mind : V
' “ What was Ralph doing away? Why had the savages not
murdered him in his sleep ?"
l '_  No definite answer was suggested to his mind. He could
" not harbor the thought that Ralph was in league with the In-
dians. and had betrayed him, yet there was something wrong.
1 Henry Eustace was brave to desperation. He had often
contended with as many savages as stood before him in a hands
' to-hand encounter, and had proved the victor. Thoughts of
resistance now entered his mind. He felt for his knife and
pistols, but, alas! they were missing from his belt. .
i “ He! he I pale-face sleep heap sound,” said one of the I
savages, in bad English, as he read Henry’s disappointment in
1 not finding his weapons in his belt. I _
‘ :3 ,Indig'nant with rage at the savage, who emphasized his last

 

om manner,

V word by giving the young hunter a severe kick, Em taco
sprung to his feet with the quickness of a tiger, and, snatch-
ing a. tomahawk from the hand of the savage, dashed it into
his tufted head, cleaving it to the neck. .

The other savages now closed in upon the young hunter

with a frightful yell. Placing his back against the pine, Henry
determined to sell his life dearly. Swinging the tomahawk
aloft, he brought it down upon another tufted skull. Then
again he raised it and aimed at the head of another savage,
‘ but the latter escaped the blow by springing aside, and the
tomahawk flew from Henry’s hands several feet beyond his
reach. He was now completely at the mercy of the three re-
maining red-skins, who instantly sprung toward him with up-
lifted tomahawks to cut him down; but, at that instant, a
blinding stream of lightning seemed to leap from the edge of
the weapons, and savages and their intended victim fell to the
earth—stricken down by the hand of God.

Still the storm raged on with unabating fury. The camp-
fire burned lower and threw a dim, sickly light over the
ghastly scene of death. But see!

Out from the darkness of the storm and woods, into the dull
light of the camp-fire, issue a man and a dog. Pausing within
the circle of light, the man vieivs the scene of death before
him, with a half-solemn, half-triumphant expression upon his ,
face.

Let us try to describe him as he stands revealed in the light‘

of the camp-fire.

‘ He is a man of perhaps forty years of age, tall and erect at
the majestic forest oak, without a physical defect in form or
(suture; Broad-shouldered, deep-chested and lithe-Embed, he .
, a the personification of health, strength and activity. His
hair and whiskers are dark. The former is cut close to the
dead, the latter hangs low upon his breast, with the growth of V

were. Complete manhood is clearly marked in every feature. ., ‘1

In the full and rolling lips, affection is strongly portrayed;
dignity, decision, authority, perseverance and courage are por-

tnyed in the dark, flashing eyes, the nose, the expression of '_ '~

the mouth, as well as in the pose of the head. _  :
He is dressed in a neat-fitting suit of buckskin breechu; _ j
shirt and moccasins, while around his shoulders and hips he" ‘

 

was: man vnmnmoqursr. 18

wears capes of undressed ‘fawn—skin, finished ofi‘ around the
edges with bright yellow fringe. His head is surmounted by
a. close-fitting cap that bristles with innumerable numbers of
small, polished steel spikes, some three inches in length, and
sharp as thorns, while in the toes of his moccasins the sharp
claws of some wild animal are dextrously fixed. In addition
to the long, bright rille he carries, a brace of pistols, a long
‘ knife and a side—tomahawk are suspended in the highly-orna-
mented belt that girdles his waist.
Such is the appearance of Sol. Strange, or Old Strategy, an
be was more familiarly known upon the western plains, a
scout, a hunter, a trapper and guide, acknowledged, by all who "
knew him, to have no superior. ‘
The soubriquet of Old Strategy was given him, not on no-
eount of his being an old man, for he was just in the prime of
vigorous manhood, but from the fact that he possessed a. poo
culiar and natural shrewdness in circumventing the redekins,
possessed by few of his calling.
To the red-man Old Strategy was a bitter and unrelenting
. enemy; to the honest white man a warm and steadfast friend,
while both termed him an eccentric and living curiosity.
The savagw believed that he was possessed of two spirits,
\ one of which dwelt in the waters, the other in the air, and
that neither could be destroyed in the absence of the other.
Thus believing, and in order to distinguish him from others of
‘ their enemies, they gave to him the name of White Spirit.
The dog which stood at the scouts side was a crow between
7 the bloodhound and the wolf. His hair was gray and shaggy
‘ like the wolf's, his ears were large and drooping like the
' .hound’s
For years this dog had been the constant and daily com-
panion of Old Strateg , and to his keen instinct was owing
much of the scouts success in stalking the deer and trailing
. the savage.
' .»  Gazing at the prostrate forms before him for a. moment,
_ Old Strategy crossed his arms over his breast and gave utter
‘ ,anee to the Odd exclamation :
“ Holy, horrors o’ Gotham l“
V For a moment he continued to gaze at the motion]!- 1m
 than he turned and addressed his dog:

 

v 14 om STRATEGY,

§

.“ Sagacity, old boy, we're too late. Babylon’s fallen, and I
see cl’arly that we’ll spile for a fite with the reds. However,
the lucky dogs that wiped out these ’ere reds haven’t done
thar work up systummatikul, for nary a skulp have they lifted
But we kin do that, Sagacity; we kin do that, old boy'?’

So saying, the scout drew his knife and advanced toward
the prostrate forms, but, as his eyes fell upon the pale, up
turned face of Henry Eustace, the burning garments of a sav I
age, the melted edge of a tornahawk, he started back with a) i
involuntary shudder and feeling of surprise and inward awe.

“ Nary a skulp, Sagacity; nary a skulp, old boy,” he said,
addressing his dog; “they’re stricken down by a lightning-
bolt—by the hand 0‘ God, old boy. We mustn’t tamper with
His dead. They’re sacred dead, old boy. But—” r

‘ He advanced and bent over the form of Henry Eustace, and
' not until then did he recognize the young man’s pale features.

“ Ah, young man i” he exclaimed, solemnly, “ dead l dead!
dead! and stricken down by the hand 0' Godl Poor Henry!
poor Edna l” .

He raised the form of his young friend in his arms and
placed him nearer the waning camp-fire, upon an Indian
blanket. Then he tore open the bosom of his hunting-shirt
and placed his hand upon his left breast. A cry of joy es~
caped his lips as he did so, for he felt the young man’s heart
beating tremulously.

“ Not dead yet, Sagacity ; not by a long shot, old boy.
Only stunned by the lightning-bolt. Soon fetch him around]
ag'in.” r

The scout began to chafe the young man’s limbs and
temples, holding his head where the rain could fall in his,
face. His etl'orts to restore the young man to life were not in
vain. Soon Henry opened his ( yes and gazed into the face
of the scout with a wild, dreamy and unconscious look.

“ Where am I ‘i” he faintly articulated.

“ Ho ! ho! IIank, my boy l" exclaimed the scout ; “ you‘re rite

, hyar, on the sunny side 0’ thirty years—good as two dead men .
——’long with Sol. Strange, Spike-head, Old Strategy, White
Spirit, or whatever yer a, mind to have it—it‘s all the same- ‘ _
and here is old Sagacity, jist sp‘ilin' to munch fie throttle 0? I” .
live red-skin" u -

 

mm TRAPPER vmxrnmoqmsr. 13

The jolly voice of Old Strategy had quite a reviving influ-
ence upon young Eustace. He soon recovered from the shock \
he had sustained by the lightning-bolt, and was enabled to sit
up. He was greatly surprised to find Ralph Dickens still
missing from camp.

In as few words as possible, Henry recounted to Old Strut.
egy his adventure with the red-skins, including the mysterioul
absence of his friend Dickens. After he had concluded, the
scout asked :

“ Does Dickens live at your settlement?”

“ No. He lives up at Archer’s ranche.”

“ Do you know what he follers fur a livin’ ‘3”

“ He told me that he was in the employ of Archer.

“ Wal, I’ll bet he told ye a lie. Young man, ye've been the
victim of misplaced confidence. That feller’s in league with
the Ingins, and it war him that brought them ’erc devils onto
ye, and I’ll tell ye how I know it.

“ An hour or more ago I war seated under a rock ever yan-
der, lookin’ this way. All 0’ a suddint I see'd a lite wavin’
among the trees, and knowed it war some Ingin deviltry goin’

' on. New mark: that war the signal 0’ yer friend to his In-
gin allies, to come over and lend a helpin’ hand. He wanted
to take you alive, too, or he‘d never went to so much trouble.

,Hewsumever, I took it under my skulp to come over and look
V t * around for a chance at a red, but when the distance war
’ . measured I found my game war up. God, in His vengeance,
had saved me 0’ other duty than restorin’ ye to life.”
‘ ‘ “ For which I shall ever feel grateful to you,” said Henry.
‘ “ Jist so; but I'll tell you, boy, we‘ve got to git away from
’ - here. This spot is marked, and the fast thing we know we’ll

' .be spotted with a bullet-mark. The hills and plains are alive
with Ingins on the war-path. The devil has got among them.
Jist this morning I see’d a. party 0‘ over a hundred movin’ in

‘ i the d‘rection o‘ yer settlement. ’Spect as what we‘re needed

. thar this minute, or, at least, we will be afore we git thar.”

"‘ Then, fox~ God’s sake, let us be off 1” said Henry, rising w
his feet.

“ I am ready,” replied the scout. V ‘

‘ “ But I’ve a horse out here a short way at grass." .

“So much the better for you. I kin walk as fast as yom

\

 

i9 OLD STRATEGY,

Lam; bring him around, While I gather up the weapons and
hide them.” ‘ ,

Henry turned and went after his animal, while Old Strategy
btlsied himself in gathering up the savages‘ arms.

By this time the storm had cleared away, and now and then
the great round moon shone through a rift in the broken
clouds that went scudding across the sky.

In a few moments Henry returned without his horse. A‘
look of disapp ointment was upon his face.

‘ “ My horse is gone," he said. ' I

“ Nothin’ morc’n I ’spectet ,” replied the scout. “ Yer friend,
Dickens, has stole it. However, we can measure the distance
with our legs, so let’s be off. Come, Sagacity; come, let’s be
trampin’, old boy."

So saying the men shouldered their rifles and plunged into
the gloom of the forest.

CHAPTER II.
'rrmerD mun.

TEE course of our friends lay through a wild and broken
country.

Deep creeks and ravines, swollen by the recent ruins, yawn-
ing chasms and rearing canons intercepted their way at almost,
every step. Now and then the dusky form of a savage would
glide across their path with the silence of a phantom. But,
through the scout’s perfect knowledge of the country and
Sagacity’s keen instinct, they were enabled to move (n slowly
without running into hidden danger.

Several miles had been traversed, when, finally, they came
to alarge creek, a tributary of the Platte, which was greatly
swollen and proved a barrier to their progress. However,
Henry Eustace and the scout could not stand still and wait for
the water to fall, so they moved along its bank in hopes of ’
finding means to cross. I ‘

BeguCity began to show an uneasiness now that con ‘ eed

/ I J

 

I

m TRAPPER VENT}: moans'r. 11,

kt master that some danger was lurking around. Still min;
the utmost caution our friends pressed on. Presently they
came to Where a large tree had been uprooted by the storm,
and falling across the stream, spanned it flew shore to shore.
This our friends concluded to cross the stream upon, though it
was quite dangerous, for already the. tree Was swaying to and
fro, and it was liable to break loose in any moment by the
force of the rising water and the pressure of the floating de-
bris that was momentarily accumulating against it.

Old Strategy took the lead ; the two men and the dog
stepped upon the log and began to move across the roaring waters

At each step the swaying bridge threatened to break loose,
but brave, fearless and determined the men moved on. They
were more than half way across when their ears caught the
soft tread of moccasincd feet and the low sound of suppressed
voices. Sagacity set up a whining, but, alas, his master knew
too well his mute warning. The men stopped upon the log, "
and that instant four Sioux Indians arose before them on the
bank of the creek with triumphant yells; and, with tomahawké
upraised to cut them down, they disputed their passage to the
shore. '

In all his life Old Strategy had never been taken at such a die».
advantage by the red-skins. For once he felt himself at a. loss
to, know how to extricate himself and friend from the danger
staring them in the face. He dare not lift a hand to draw a
weapon lest he should lose his balance and in; mm the water.
Yet, something must be done, and that speedily, for the creek
continues to swell and the log is about~ to break from its meet-
ing. '

Retreat seemed the only practicable mode of escape, but the
idea had scarcely entered their minds when three savages ap-
peared upon the other shore, thus cutting otl‘ all possible
chances of escape to either side, while death by the seething
waters seemed inevitable.

“ Holy horrors o’ Gotham !" exclaimed the scout, in a tone
of perplexity. “ Things begin to look hazy, Hank, old boy."

“Yes; it‘s all up with us. The water will do what the
lavages don’t.” ,

“ Wnl, they say as what thar‘s hopes as long as that's life:
fl .0, why—look out, old boy! ’Stride the log, it : voin' PI

 

I

18 01$ STRATEGY,

Simultaneouly, the scent and Henry dropped astride the log
with their legs submerged in the water to the knees. They '
had scarcely done so, when there came a terrible crash of

v floating debris: one end of the log broke loose, swung round
into the middle of the stream and floated ofl' with our friends
upon it, while the savages, with yells and jeers, kept pace
with it by following along the banks on either side. i

. The situation of the two white men was as ludicrous as it

was dangerous. Seated face to face astride the floating logh
they could do nothing toward escaping. They dare not draw

a. weapon, lest, ere they could use it, a tomahawk would be

buried in their brains.

The savages Seemed to know that the pale-faces were at
their mercy, and took a fiendish delight in trifling with their

.: fears. Now and then they would hurl a club or stick at them,
which required considerable dodging to escape; and besides
thus being punished, they were in constant fear, lest the log
would roll over in the water, and the immense amount of
debris mat was still lodged against the upper side would beat
them down beneath the waves.

_ At the moment the log broke loose, Sagacity sprung into
the stream, swam ashore amid a shower of bullets, and made
good his escape into the forest.

Slowly and steadily the log with its entrapped riders floated
on. To the savages, the sport seemed intensely enjoyable, and
in their triumph, they berated the discomtited whites loudly
on their blindness in stumbling into their trap.

It was no question to our friends why the sawtges permitted
them to drift upon the stream, allowing them to keep posses-
sion of their weapons, and why they did not shmt them down

. without further ceremony since Old Struteg ', or White Spirit
‘1an been their most deadly enemy. Half a mile further down
the (reel; entered a long and narrow canon, where the watel

'Went rushing through {with such terrible force that even logs
had been shiwred to pieces on the sharp rocks in passing.

Willi this place an Indian legend was connected.

From the very earliest ages down to the time of which I
write, it had been called by the aborigines, Death’s Valley.
I'. Mitt] been said, and was sacredly believed, that the spirit of
In enemy who had been sent adrift, with all his appurtenances

 

mm mm warmers-r. ‘ 1!

cf war, upon the creek, and allowed to be slain by the invisible
hand that dwelt within the darkness of the canon, would never
return to haunt their hunting-grounds. Hence the savages'
great object in allowing the scout and Henry to drift upon
the stream. that they might be dashed to pieces by the great
spirit that dwelt in Death‘s Valley.

Much to the surprise of his companion and the chagrin of
the red-skins, Old Strategy produced a short-stemmed clay
pipe, loaded it, lit it with a lucifer match, and began smoking
asunconcernedly as though he had been seated in aborder bar-
room.

This act of deliberate coolness on the part of the scout
proved the means of opening a conversation between the savages
and their captives.

“ Waugh 1" exclaimed a savage, shaking his tomahawk
fiercely at the scout. “ Dog of a pale-face mus’ no smoke l"

“ The devil ye say i" returned the scout, sneeringly. “ It’s
none 0’ yer bisness if I do smoke.” I

“ Mus’ no smoke I" reiterated the savage, authoritatively. ,« i

“ Go to the devil, I say,” replied the scout “ I’m runnin'

' this pipe ’rangement now, and kalkerlate to i”

A few moments’ silence ensued, then the savage said:

“ Pale-face a heap big blow."

“ And seems to me that yer talkin’ a good deal outen your
mouth for a puke 0‘ an Injin.”

‘ " Waughl White Spirit bad dog. He soon sing nudder
tune. Let him listen. He hear the voice at Death’s Valley
call for him.”

" Let her call and be durned. Who keers Y"

“ Ugh l more brag."

, “ Lookee here, red-skin, I bet ye my skulp ’g‘inst yourn
that ye’ll whistle outen the other corner 0’ yer mouth store an
hour. Do ye say it’s a bet ?”

“ Pale-facc—”

“Hold on there, red-skin,” interrupted the scout; “ answer
my question. Do you say it’s a bet ‘3”

“ No," jerked out the savage, gruffly.

“ Go to the devil then, ye red coward l"

“ augh! pale-face sleep with eyes open—run into Inch:

the” »

 

OLD mm.

'“ Whew l" ejaculated the scout, “ thatfithat's a cutter; red
skin. I wish now I hadn’tsed any thing; howwmever, I dau
you to say it ag’in."

“‘ Waugh ! pale-face sleeps with eyes open—run into Ingins'
trap," the savage repeated, with a defiant leer upon his (high!
face.

" That's all, red-skin,” said the scout, laughing; " l kin re
member the words now. You may have occasion to hear ’m
whistle in yer ear More long."

“ W'augh I"

Here the conversation was concluded. The seont’s atten-
'tion wes now fixed upon an object of vital interest that ap
peared a short distance before them upon the water.

The moon was shining brightly, making every object upon
|he stream plainly perceptible for some distance, while the
savages on each side, not more than fifteen or twenty feet from
our friends, could but dimly be seen, owing to the deep shadow
of the trees that bordered the banks. But, the object thathatl
uttracted the seont’s notice, and to which he called Henry’s at.
tention, was a large tree, that was partly uprooted or under-
mined by the water, leaning out one? the stream at an angle a!
about thirty-fire degrees, and whose long, dark foliage was
trailing in the water.

Beneath this tree, through its dark trailing branches, the
scam. and Henry must pass.

A thought flashed in the quick, inventive mind of Old
Strategy the moment his eyes rested upon the tree, and moving
closer to Henry he held a short consultation with him in a
whisper; then he turned and addressed the red-skins:

“ Lookee here, red-skins," he said, “ hain't you ’uns nfmrd

.ihut ’em thar limbs will rake us oif’n this log and drown us?
I sw'ar it‘s dangerous."

The former spokesman of the red-skins, who was evidently
a half-breed, judging from the fluency with which he handled
the English tongue, at once replied: i

“ Must no git off—must lay close to log.” -

“ All right, red-skin ; but if we git raked 0an this log,
we’ll dadge under this floutin’ brush and stuff and git away
from ye, as sure as yer a horn dog." 

“ Waugh l no git away. Injin too cute. Must stay-on ‘_ V 

 

V   2.,
‘ “

THE 'rmrrnn VENTHTUOQUIST. SI

log-go through Death‘s Valley ; then no tr‘uhle Ingins‘ huntln‘o
groun’ more.”

“ Jist as you say; if we git drowned afore we go through
Death‘s Valley, it’s yer own less; we won’t be ’spensiblo for
what our spirits do arter we go under.“

The savages made no reply, but. set up a wild, weird chant-
ing of the death-song of the palefnces. The sullen mar 01
llhe water as it rushed through the narrow and rocky channe
cf the canon 'could be distinctly heard, announcing their close
proximity to the legendary Death’s Valley. And, of course,
a certain amount of singing and chanting must be done; cer~.
lain ceremonies performed, ere the victims passed through.

But the scout and HenryEustaee heeded not their superstitious
orgies. Their eyes, their minds, their very souls were fixed
upon the leaning tree and its low—hanging foliage that was
trailing in the seething waters.

A moment more and the tree was reached. Under the
shadow and depths of the foliage the log:r and our friends
«drift. A deep hush falls upon the savages for the pale-faces
are lost to their View in the depths of the trailing houghs.
And hark! two loud splashes and floundering in the water
reach their savage ears—then the floating log and debris
drift out from the shadow of the leining tree—into the bright
moonlight.

A yell o’f bafl'lerl triumph escapes the savages} lips, for Old
Strategy and Horny Eustace are missing from the log—they
are nowhere to be seen. Surely they have been dragged from
thelog by the drooping branches into the water and home
down by the mass of debris. The savages listen. True
enough, 6mm ZIw debris of logs and brush they km the strang-
iing cafe: of tlw unfortunate palefaces.’

The floating log was scarce a rod below the leaning lrol
when it swung round and lodged cross-ways in the creek. ‘l‘ho
savages could not have wished for any thing better. Eager (t
rescue their drowning enemies that their sufferings might be
prolonged, they threw aside their weapons and all together

'plunged into the creek—climbed upon the log and floating

mass and begun searching for their perishing enemies, whose
strangling noise they could still hear, though it momentarily
grew weaker and 

,.4“

 

     

23 ‘ on) grammar,

Thus the red-skins were busily engaged in the search, when
all of a sudden they were startled by a mocking laugh and the
fierce barking of a dog.

Looking up they beheld, to their horror and surprise, Old
Strategy and his dog standing upon one bank of the stream,
and Henry Eustace upon the other. The scout hold in each

w hand a. pistol leveled full at the heads of two savages, while

" Henry stood with drawn tomabawk, ready to cut the first one

own that attempted to spring ashore.
The savages were so stricken with horror, that, for a
moment, they seemed changed into wood, and in the language

of Old Strategy in relating the circumstances after-wan, “ The ‘

varmints war scart so bad that they turned white as ghOsts in
dog-days.”

“ Waugh 1" exclaimed the scout. “ Ingins sleep with eyes
’open—run into pale-faces’ trap.”

The half-breed uttered an indignant grunt, and was in the
act of leaping toward the scout when the latter foresaw his
intention, and in a firm and convincing tone he said :

“Don’t. move a step, red-skin, or you’re a dead dog. It
makes no difference to me whether you sail into Death’s Valley
alive or not. A. dead Ingin’s a dead Ingin, and if one 0’ ye
moves a-peg, I’ll let her slip.”

The tables were completely turned. ’I‘he whites had proven

masters of the situation, and seven frightened savages, who but
a few moments before had been so loud in their triumph, stood
gazing, like beasts driven at buy, at their conquerors.

seen.
In making the passage beneath the leaning tree, they made

such a. noise and splashing in the. water as would lead the.

savages to believe that they had been dragged from the log by
the trailing boughs ; then reaching over their heads they caught
hold of a large limb, drew themselves upon the tree and
Allowed the log to pass on. Then crawling along the body of
the tree, Old Strategy crossed to one side, where he was
joined by his faithful “ old boy ” Sagacity, while Henry crossed
to the other ide, thus completely outwitting the unsuspecting
red-skins, and drawng them into their own trap. I
“ I my, red-skins,” said the scout “How d’ye like yer

   

The manner in which our friends mode their escape is easily

    

 

 

 

m mr’pnn vnxrmmqmsr. ’ ‘ .23

change? 7 Do ye hear any thing 0’ the spirit callin’ ya at Death’s
Valley ?"

“N01” ejaculated the half-breed, savagely. “Good pale
face must no kill Ingins—Ingins jist in fun."

“ Hal ha! ha i" roared 01d Strategy. “That, red-skin, is
whistlin’ anuthcr tune, sure enough. So fur’s I’m consumed

, ye may go free, but the devil will soon git ych—liis satanic
majesty is arter ye at this moment."

“ Waugh! pale-face can no lie to Ingin," replied the half
breed.

,-But the words were scarcely uttered when a fearful scream,
such as might come from the lips of a (lemon, was heard, issu<
ing from beneath the floating 105.,r and debris upon which the
savages stood.

The savages uttered an exclamation of fear and superstitious
horror, and like so many frightened fiends, they plunged from
the log into the water and struck out for the shores; some of
them escaped into the woods, others were borne down by the
swift current and (lashed to pieces on the jagged rocks in
Death’s Valley. '

Old Strategy watched them in their headlong flight,his sides
convulsed with laughter, while Henry Eustace, startled with
wonder and sudden fear, stood gazing, rifle in hand, upon the
floating debris, expecting each moment to see issue therefrom,

, the beast or monster that had uttered that frightful scream.

The scout was the first to break the silence that followed

- the panic.

“ I say, Hank, old boy, that was a rcg'lur stampede.”

 “ Yes," replied Henry, with some emotion. “ But that scream

—didn‘t you hear it ‘9”

' “ Of course I did, old boy, and it’s not the fust time, either,
Haven’t yer ever hearn o’ the voice 0’ the Hidden Spirit ‘3”
“ Often.”
“ Wal, I kain't ’ccunt fur it in any uther light than that the
‘ meam we heard war the spirits voice."
“Quite a profound mystery. I declare that scream sent a
cold chill over me. It was unearthly.”
, “ Ho, ho, old boy; thar’s not a doubt in my mind but the!
-, other critters besides men and beasts dwell in these hills."
I,‘ ,“What do you mean ?"

 

24 OLD ETIIA’L’EUY,

“ Ghosts, or gt‘lblins, or spirits, old boy.”
“ I can't agree with you there, my friend. It‘s imposiblc.
Nevertheless, there is a mystery somewhere.”

\ " VVal, wal, time will tell,” said the scout, evasively. “ So
we mout as well drop the subject and be movin'. We'll have
I long tramp aforc I find a crossin' place ng‘iu."

“ Very well; I am ready.”
So saying, they shouldered their rifles, secured the Indians’
deserted arms and set off up the stream again.

CHAPTER III.
THE nonnnns’ mean

In the days of the “Pony Express,” which all far-western
men well remember, the organized bands of robbers for plun-
dering the mails and emigrant trains were quite numerous and
powerful, and, despite the vigilance of the military, held almost
undisputed sway over various portions of the road. They had
a regular chain of “ stations ” at intervals along the route, lo
cated in a wild and secluded spot, with relay-horses to carry
messengers from one point to another, with infornmtinn of an:
approaching wagon-train, and the probable value of the expected
mail. And often these despel‘udoes derived valuable assistance
from the dusky red-men under the leadership of some notorious
white renegade, who had been driven from the society of his
own race.

At the period of the opening or" our story, a substantially
built log-cabin, a. story and a half high, stood alone in a wild,
picturesque dell of the Rattlesnake Mountains, about four or
five miles from the National road, which near this pomt be
gins its south-westerly swerve through the great passes of the
Rocky Mountains. The glen in which the building stood was
so secluded, and the path connecting it with the main road so
tortuous and poorly defined, that none, not intimately con-
nected with the robber band that made this cabin their hem
quarters, could have dreamed of its existence while passing
the main road. t

 

l

rm; mama vammoqm. 25 '

the cabin had been built back against the face of aper-
pendicular'rock‘ in which the hand of nature had hollowed
out a stupendous cavern. This cavern had been selected by
the robbers as a store-house for their plunder and ill-gotten ‘
gains, and was connected with the cabin by means of a trap-
door in the ground-floor of the building. '

The time that we would show the readers through this
robber rendezvous, is upon the night in which the threats oo-
uurred as narrated in the preceding chapters. .

Let us first look over the lower or ground story. It is a
large and spacious apartment, furnished with a single door and
window. Rude tables and chairs are scattered over the floor,
I and weapons of every description ornament the walls. By the
open window, rifle in hand, sits a rough, burly-looking man
on guard, looking out into the stormy, starless night.

Now let us look elsewhere. We ascend the rude stairs into
the chamber. There we cross the floor and rap gently upon
a partition door. A soft and musical voice calls out for us to
come in. We open the door and enter. We start with won
der and surprise. A fair and lovely, yet delicate woman greets
us with a smile. She is young—not more than five-and
"twenty—with large and lustrous dark eyes—dark hair, a grace-
ful form, and with features as clearly defined as an ancient
cameo. Yet from the depths of her eyes there shines a (lull
, ,glow that tells us of some secret sorrow resting upon her heart.
At her side stands a beautiful child of some four summers, re-
sembling his mother much in features, and who timidly shrinks
from our approach. This fair woman and her child are
cleanly and neatly dressed, and the atmosphere around them is
pure and unconfined. As in the lower room, an oil lamp
lights up the apartment and shows us how neat- and comfortable
llhe lady’s room is furnished. Nothing is wanted to make it
‘ pleasant and cozy. Upon a shelf a small library of instruc-
A live books are neatly an‘angcd, with which the fair woman
’ amay beguile the hours of her incarceration, for it is evident, from
1 her pareworn looks, the heavy shutter at her window, which
overlooks a wild region or pass known as the Devil’s Gate.
and the huge iron bolt on the whim of her door, that she and
her‘childare prisoners. But, be that as it may, let us leave
them for awhile and go down-stairs and enter the secret chamber

   

1

fl 0) in STRATEGY,

 

The burly man on guard raises a large trap-door,’wh.ch ll ’
dextrously hidden from the eye by a couch of skins, and points
us to the dark opening. We descend a pair of stone steps into
\ dark and narrow passage which we follow along until we
come to a heavy door. Upon this door we rap violently once,
twice, thrice. A gmfl‘, stentorian voice growls through a wicket,
demanding the “ pass-word." We answer, “Eureka.” The
door opens and we stand within the robbers’ cave. It is aglow
with lights from numerous oil lamps fixed against the rocky,
walls. For awhile our eyes are dazed by the light that is
reflected from the sharp points of the stalactites that point .
down like fingers of fire from the great dome overhead.
Gradually our eyes become accustomed to the light; then we
recoil with an inward feeling of fear. Before us, seated at
rough deal tables, at cards and dice, are a dozen or more of
the robber band, rough, ferocious-looking fellows, armed to the .
teeth with the mOst deadly kind of weapons. Clinking glasses, .
loud words and deep oaths greet our ears. Outcasts of differ—
ent nationalities are represented in that company of desperadoes.
The bushy-brewed German. the bearded Californian, the fair-
haired Anglo-Saxon, New York gamblers, booted and spurred
and. reckless Texans and border ruflians—all are there with not
a few low-browed, serpent-eyed Indian half—breeds. All about _ '
the cavern we see various articles of plunder strewn in pro-
miscuous disorder. _

All unconscious of the storm-king’s fury without, these reck-
less men continue their gambling, thcir oaths and their drink-
ing until they become exhausted with dissipation, and are about.
to retire for the night, when there came a familiar voice at the
door, demanding admittance.

In a moment the door was opened, and a tall man, wearing a
slouched hat and military overcoat entered the cavern, his. drip-‘
ping garments showing that he had been out in the rain.

This new-comer into the robbers’ ranchc was a- man a!
perhaps five-and-forty years of age. He was tall and erect,
with ‘a well-knit form and features purely Castilian. Dark
hair that hung upon his shoulders, dark eyes that flashed iihe I) ‘
living fire, an expressive and sensual mouth shaded by a heavy
mustache, showed him to be a man of indomitable will, yet
of an evil and dissipated character. His movements were an - ;

 

ran mmn remnniooms'r. 2‘!

noiseless as the panther—his steps as firm as the massive tread
of the lion.
Throwing aside his hat and overcoat, with a freedom that
showed he was at home, a neat-fitting suit of blue velveteen
was displayed upon his muscular form. Around his waist was
a handsome belt, fairly studded with revolvers and bowie-
,knives, which gave him the air of a dangerous man.
Thus appeared Roland Rashleigh, or “Reckless Roll," as h
was usually called, the robber captain.
“ Good-night, captain!" chorused the robbers, as their chiet
’ entered their presence.
“Good-night to you all, but a devil of a. rough night it’s
‘been to me,” responded the robber captain.
“ A suit of dry clothes and a glass of strong brandy will set
you all right. Any news, captain, that—s”
“ Until I get the clothes and brandy, Joe Ogden, you need
ask no questions,” the captain replied. V
-“ Very well; here‘s a dry suit, Captain Rashleigh," called
out one of the robbers.
“ And here’s a bottle of the purest,” added another.
“ And here’s luck to you all,” exclaimed the robber captain,
. seizing the bottle and pouring its contents down his throat at
‘f a single gulp.
‘ “ Bravo, captain l" shouted his men, as he threw the bottle
from him and proceeded to change his drt'ss.
A. ‘ In a few minutes he had donned a dry suit, and throwing
' 9 , himself into a rude, but comfortable arm-chair, he said:
“ Now, boys, I’m ready for any question."
I . “Well, what luck, captain ?" asked Zeke Teters, a Texan,
' - with the true ranger swagger. I
“ Individually, I have had good luck, boys, for the fact is, I
~ ‘L, have about completed such arrangements as will end my single
,f blesscdness in a few days."
" Whew !" exclaimed old Jack Stokes, whose tongue had
grown thick with the effect of recent drains of brandy;
“ then you've rid ’self 0' a rival—that strip 0’ a boy, Henry Ens
tace ?” . 1
. -‘ ‘ f‘ By this time he is on his way to the Indian village," re~
plied the captain.
,' " That’s a good ‘un, cap'n, that’s a good ‘un,” ejaculated the

 

OLD STRATEGY,

old hacchanalinn “ S’pose you'll now make a 'pression an
that female gal‘s heart, eh ‘2”

“ I will,” replied the captain, with a laugh. t

“ Beats devil, cap'n, how ye ’ceed in bzness—old Jack
Blokes never could ’ceed worth a cuss—never had wife a hit—-
git one yit—be happy man—how git the boy, cap‘n ?”

“ I employed Ralph Dickens and a party of his Indians to 7
capture him alive, and take him to their village. He left the
settlement a few days ago, as a kind of a detective, sent by the
authorities at Fort Laramie, to search for the rendezvous of a
certain band of robbers whose den was thought to be some-
where in the Rattlesnake Mountains."

“ J ist so. Strikes me I know somethin’ 0' that ranche."
muttered the talkative Stokes. “ But when goiu’ to settlement
after gal, eap‘n ‘3”

“ To-morrow; and if nothing happens I'll he back in three
days. Dickens and two hundred of his Indians will be in the
vicinity to assist me in case of necessity. But, really, I had ,_
forgotten one thing. Snaky! Snaky i” /

In reply to the captain‘s call, a little half-breed, whose
weazen face, small black eyes and wide mouth gave him the‘
appearance of the reptile after which he was named, made his "
appearance. ‘

“ Snaky,” continued the captain, “I want van to carry a '
message to Captain Sherwood, of the Sweetwater ranche, im-
mediately. Can you do it, and not let the grass grow under
your feet ?"

“ He! he 1 me can that,” replied the half-breed.

The captain whirled his chair to a table, and towing a leaf ,

from a memoranda, dashed off a note with a pencil Having ‘ 

placed it in the hands of the messenger, who immediately set
off on his journey through the storm, the captain arose, and '
left the secret room or vault, and ascended the stairs into the .
chamber, and entered, without ceremony, the room in which the
fair woman and her child were confined.

The child was asleep when he’entered, and the mother he ., I "

ting by 'the bedside reading.

, “ Oh i it is you, father." the woman said. laying aside her book?  iv.

“Yes, Miriam." responded the robber captain. “Are we -’
V tarry that l have come i“

 

ma Tim-sum vrcx'rnunqms'r. ‘ 29

, “Oh! noffather, no! I am glad~—-so glad. Little Harry
has been asleep this long time, and I feel so lonesome."

" Well, Miriam,” said the young woman‘s father,“ you
have now been a widow four years, and I feel anxious to see
you married and settled down into a happier life. There is
no telling how soon or at what moment 1 may drop elf, and
then in case you are alone, you and your child will be thrown
helpless out in the world. I am anxious to see you married
andlivinga happier life, and I know of no one who lower
you more, and would make you a better husband, than Captain
Alf Sherwood.”

The eyes of the beautiful woman flashed like fire, and a
pallor of indignation swept across her face as her father con-
cluded his remarks.

“Father,” she said, in an emphatic tone. “ I will take
my own life before I will defame the sacred memory of Harry
St. Clair, my dead husband, by marrying that villain, Sher.
wood 11)

“Miriam!”

“Ohl father, father! for God’s sake have one grain of
pity—one spark of fraternal affection forine-—your only childl
You know that you brought all my sorrow upon me—now
don’t, for pity’s sake, force me to marry that wretch !"

' “ Miriam, this silliness has gone far enough. You will not
listen to wisdom or reason, therefore, I might as well say, first
as last, that you shall marry Alf Sherwood ! I shall maintain
you and your brat no longer l”

“ Father!” exclaimed the widow, pointing to her sleeping
child, “speak not ill of that child. It is Harry‘s—-”

“ And for that reason I hate it.”

 

'_ 7L “ Roland Rashleigh, you are a monster l"
' in . For a moment the father and daughter stood glaring a
 each other with flashing eyes. a terrible struggle going on

v ‘. within their hearts The father was the first to speak.

’ -“ Again I say, this silliness has gone far enough. Already
[have dispatched amessenger for Sherwood to hasten here
,, immediately. He will bring Father Lucas, the Jesuit mis~
" .sionary, with him to perform the marriage ceremony. You can
3 prepare yourself for the occasion, for I say you shall wed Alf
" Sherwood Until he arrives, I shall place a guard at your

 
    
 
 

30 ow summer,

door and double the look upon you. This impentive declare
tion I shall consider sufficient and irrevocable." And with
that the robber captain left the room, locking and bolting the
door behind him.

In an agony of sorrow, Miriam St. Clair fell upon her knees, v
and with tearful eyes upraised to heaven, she prayed long: and
fervently for the Father of ail to give her strength and nour-
nge for the coming ordeal—to watch over her and her child,
and guide them from the darkening shadows of ’ sorrow into
the bright dawn of eternal happiness.

How strangely her low, prayerful voice contrasted with ’he
loud oaths and ribald songs of the robber band in the secret
chamber below 1

CHAPTER IV.

HARPER’S SETTLEMENT

HARPER’s settlement was situated upon the great and

beautiful plain that stretches its unbroken length between the
Rocky Mountains and Fort Laramie.

A few years previous to the opening of our story, Ambrose
Harper erected the first cabin there, for the purpose of mtab-
lishing a trading-post with the Indians, who at that time were
at peace. Mr. Harper was a man of an adventuresmne spirit ;
had been born and bred upon the frontier, and naturally longed ‘
for its excitement and adventure; and as civilization gradually
pushed 'her conquests west, he was found moving,r on several
years in the advance.  .

Soon after Mr. Harper settled upon the great plains of
Nebraska Territory, he had the sad misfortune to lose his be
loved wife. But he was not left alone. Edna, his ’ouly child,
just budding into a glorious womanhood, proved the source
of great consolation, and the only cherished object of his love,
beyond the memory of his sainted wife. ’ / ,

In a few years, however, Mr. Harper found quite a number ‘
of his friends from the east settling around him, and the prairies
being converted into a state of cultivation. Among these new-
comers was Henry Eustace.

 

rm: rmm vnx'rmqmsr. "81

Not feeling at ease, surrounded by farms on all sides, Han-
per removed his residence from the settlement and rebuilt,
about two miles further west on the banks of a little stream,
which was bordered by a thin growth of cottonwood trees. In
this new location he had resided with his daughter, about two
years at the time of the opening of our story. There Henry
Eustace wooed and won his daughter’s heart, and there heaven
‘uad witnessed the young lovers’ betrothal.

On the second night following that of the terrible storm,
Mr. Harper and his daughter were seated alone in their cabin,
engaged in conversation. The former was scarcely fifty years
of age, with some silver among his light~brown locks, 'et his
form was erect and strongly-built—his movements as free as a.
man of thirty.

Edna was, perhaps, eighteen summers of age. A little
above the medium hight, With a plump, round figure, rosy
cheeks, nut-brown ringlets and laughing blue eyes, there seemed
nothing wanting in making the picture perfect. So, at least,
thought all those yoiing Nimrods that called at her father’s
cabin, and begged in vain for her hand and heart.

A light was burning in the room, showing how neat and
comfortable it was kept by the young maiden.

“ Edna,” said her father, breaking the deep silence that pre-
. veiled, “you seem troubled. Is any thing the matter 1’”

“Yes, father,” replied the maiden. “I had a visitor today
while you were absent—"

“ Who, Edna ?” interrupted the father, impatiently.

“ Roland Rashleigh.”

Ambrose Harper started up with the hot blood rushing
through his veins.

“And why does that villain’s visit here trouble you, my
child 5!" he asked.

“ Because he asked me to be his wife, father.”

“ And you refused him.”

“ Of course, father. What else could I do ?”

“ You could do nothing, Edna; but had I been here I would
have sent a bullet through the old robber‘s heart 1”

‘ .“Then it is well that you were not here, for blood would
' now be upon your hands."
“ It would have been the blood of a murderer, and no crime

 

 
  

   

82 cm) summer.

would have been done ; but, Why do yon allow yourself to be
troubled about that man ? He is unworthy a eimle thought."
, “ I know not why I am -trouhled, unleis ."t is a premonition
\ of coming danger.”
“ Oh, fie, Edna—" ,
Before the father could finish the sentence, the door was
dashed violently open and a negro hunter, belonging to the
/ settlement, rushed in, in the wildest excitement, rifle in hand.
“ Scip! Seipl what’s the matter ‘2” asked Harper, spr‘ug‘w'
to his feet, much surprised at the unceremonious intrusion.
“ Oh, good Lor’, massa Harper I" replied the excited new '
“ de Ingings, de Ingings are eomin’ !" /
“ What? Indians coming ‘9"
“Yes, massa Harper, dey’s eomin’—ten millions ob ’em l”
“ You‘re mistaken, Scip; your’e only excited,” said Harper,
smiling.
“ Lor’, no, massa Harper, I’s not ’staken—de Ingings am
comin’—a whole lot ob ‘em.”
\ “ How many do you think there are i’" _
“ Dar’s a hundred at least, fur dis nigger counted ’em.” * a:
“ Hark!” commanded Harper. _ ’f
All listened in breathless silence, and to their ears was borne ‘ a»
the distant report of fire-arms, mingled with the fierce yells of '
savages.
“ Gracious God !” exclaimed Harper. “ it is true! the Indians
have attacked the settlement 1” ,.
“ Yes, massa, and dar’s a lot ob ’em comin’ here, as true as '  l
Ps a born nigger. I see’d ’em and hurried on to tell you." :3 l
“ Oh, father! we are lost!" sohbed Edna.
“Cheer up, daughter, we must prepare to flee,” said the \'

       
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

 

 

 

 

 
       
   
   
   
   
   
 

father, but the words had scarcely left his lips when a Wild 1

war-whoop announced the near approach of the savages. 5

“Too late, father; they are come !" cried Edna. C

“ Then we must defend ourselves," replied Harper, (losing (

and bolting the heavy door. “Bring my rifle, Edna.” ,_ ‘ 1‘

The maiden hastened to one corner of the cabin and r0- ' i

turned in a moment with two rifles. F
“ I can use one, father,” she said, handing him his rifle.

“ By tigers! ’speets (lur’ll be hot time," said Scip, the negro,  _ 1‘

'0

 
 

" but dis chile feels like he could lick de whole caboodle." ',

  

 

 

TILE Tmm maeqmsr. at

I.“ . 

' -—.wrr *2?» .

“ You'll have the chance of trying it,“ said Ambrose.

“By jingo, massn Harper, tlat‘s whatl wants. Dis nig-
ger’s boun’ to han' his name down to posterior as de terror ob
de red-skins for all ages to come— Oh i”

At this juncture there came a violent crash against tho
door, accompanied by a deafening yell. The attack had be~ .
gun. For the first time since his residence upon the plains“
Ambrose Harper’s first struggle had begun with the red—skins.

With great presence of mind Edna sprung and blew out]
the light, that the savages might not know exactly where to
(aim their weapons, should they find an opening in the walls.

In erecting the cabin Mr. Harper had left nothing undone
in preparing for just such emergencies. The door and the
walls were pierced with loop-holes, and as the moon was

. shining bright without, it would be an easy matter to bring
the assailants under range of the rifles of those within.
_Again and again the savages endeavored to break open the
door, but their efl'orts were in vain.

“ What do you want, out there i’” called Mr. Harper, in the
Indian dialect.

“ Want in,” replied a savage.

“ What for i’" _

“ Soups, and white sqnaw.”

“ You will not get in, then; and if you don‘t leave we’ll

\ fire upon you.”y
'A mocking laugh followed the old frontiersman’s declara-
tion, and at the same time there came another crash against
the door that caused the whole building to tremble.

“ To your post. Scip, we must fight," said Harper.

“ Dat’s dc talk, massa Harper,” said the negro, springing to

_' a loop-hole; “ dis nigger-‘ll show stun ob dem Ingings de way

‘ “f 118 holy prophets went. I‘ll jis‘ bet I'll string a dozen ol) ’cm
" on a thread ob moonshine, an' punch (le whole wid a bullet.

. n 'Gollyl Car’s a. million out dar, as 1’s a born nigger—dart om

A less?"

.-' ” . This last exclamation was caused by the report of a rifle.
 Rind the death-yell of a samge.

7 '-It was Edna Harper who had sighted a red-skin througlu
loop-hole, and brought her rifle to bear upon him with a fatal
:08 ‘

' \

 

 

  

' \

om srmmor,

Edna was a brave and noble girl, and, raised upon tho
frontier as she had been, but few could excel her in the use
of the rifle. And now that she was‘ battling for her, home,
she felt that she was capable of performing deeds of prodigi-
ous valor—as other frontier damscls had done in other days,
when the red barbarians were thundering at the door of their
‘onely cabin for their lives.

The light of the moon enabled the besieged to distinguish
he moving forms of the assailants quite 1' -adin, and as they
were within easy range, asavage fell whenever a rifle cracked.

Like the “ Maid of Saragossa,” Edna continued to load and
fire with as much coolness and precision as her father, while
Scip, at each shot, would give vent to a triumphant shout, or
excecute some gymnastic performance, in order to demonstrate
the spirit of his feelings.

At each volley from the cabin, the red-skins would recoil
in great. confusion to the shelter of a fence or an outhouse,
but in a few moments they would return to the assault with
renewed strength and courage, only for a part of their num-
ber to fall before the withering [ire of the defenders.

Our friends could still hear, at intervals, the firing and yells
at the settlement, and they knew that they would receive no
succor from thence—that their salvation depended upon their
own efforts.

Ambrose Harper felt certain that they could hold the sav-
ages at bay so long as their ammunition lasted and they did

not fire the building. He ltnew too well that the scalping.
knife would seal their fate should they give themselves up to
the foe; therefore he resolved to struggle on, and if he must
fall, let it be with his face to the enemy.

The savages seemed determined to accomplish their unde'r- '
aking, else they were urged on to the attack by an irresistaa ,
ble power. Their object seemed to be to burst open the door,
and to accomplish this purpose, a battering-ram was made by
three or four of their party taking upon their shoulder a large

_ 'log and advancing toward the house, but ere they could reach

it, half their number would fall under the rifles of the wary

whites. Other savages would immediately till the place oil 1-

their fallen comrades, only to, meet their fate. / ’
And all the time that this bloody assault was going on, two

 

'\

m man mummooum. 85

persons might have been seen standing in the shadow of a
cottonwood tree about fifty yards from the cabin, watching the
conflict with a deep interest,

One of these persons was dressed in a peculiar garb of blue
velveteen, the other in the garb of an Indian Chieftain. ’ The
one was Roland Rashleigh, the robber captain, the other, the
chief of the savages that were besieging Ambrose Harper”!
cabin.

“ I say, captain,” said the chief, addressing his companion
in pure English, “ those whites in the cabin will never be
taken alive.”

“ Bah, man l” replied the robber captain,sneeringly. “ They
can not hold out another hour longer.”

“ At this rate, should they hold out half an hour longer,'my
braves will all be slain, and for what ‘B”

“ A thousand dollars I” hissed the captain. ‘

“ A thousand furies !” returned the chief. “ What is a
thousand dollars, compared with thirty men ‘8" _

“ Men I” sneerod the. captain. “ Do you call savages‘
m In

“ No difference, Rashleigh ; men or no men, I will not see
them all shot down for you, nor your thousand dollars I”

“ Then you will suffer yourself and thirty brave men to be
driven away by three whites, eh ?”

“ But they are fortified."

" And you are ten to one."

For a moment the chief was silent, then he said:

, “There is but one way, captain, that those whites can be
dislodged with the force I have here, and I dare not call away

any of my braves from the attack upon the settlement.”

: .“ And what way is that ‘2" asked the captain.

' “ Fire the building.” ’

." It will never do. The whites will suffer themselves to be
burntto death, rather than quit the cabin. I know old Hal-
mt.”

“ Then I will call my men away.” ‘

“ If you do, I’ll shoot you down 1” And the robber cap-

, . thin laidkhis hand upon the butt of a revolver; but heading
~ , him not, the chief placed an instrument to his lips and blew .‘

. shrill whistle.

 

fl om) STRATEGY,

In a. moment the remnant of his braves had gathered around
them with defeat written upon their faces. Of thirty, sixteen
were alive.

“ And now," said the chief, addressing the robber. “ If '
you say fire the cabin, well and good ; if not, I will with-
draw."

“ Well, fire it then,” replied Rashleigh. “ But remember——

"he girl, no gold."

The chief at once gave orders to fire the cabin, and with
reneWed courage the savages bounded away to apply the
brand.

While the main force held the attention of the whites to
the front of the cabin, the others crept around and fired it in
the rear.

Like a serpent, the flames crept up the dry walls and over
the roof.

The savages withdrew a few steps into the surrounding
forest to await the apearance of the defeated pale-faces.

The burning building lit up the surrounding gloom with a '
glare like the midday sun, and threw a weird light over the
demoniac features of the robber captain and the chief, who
stood with their eyes fixed upon the cabin door, with a dogged «
and impatient gaze.

Deeper and deeper into the walls the fire eat. Higher and
higher into the air the flames arose. Louder and louder the tim-
bers crackled—denser the smoke grew—faster the sparks flew up
into the inky darkness overhead. '

The firing of the whites within the cabin had ceased. ‘ No
appeal for mercy came to the listening ears of the savage de-
mons without—no sound at all, save the roar of the flames,
mingled with the wild scream of some startled night-bird.

The moments pass. The cabin is entirely enveloped in th
devouring flames. Hark! to that rumbling noise! All eye:
-—-those basilisk eyes peering from the copse—are strained upon
the cabin door; but, alas! the building crumbles to the earth,

 

 

 

 

a red heap of coals. Not a cry, not a murmur, told what the , _ 7 

fate of our friends had been—not a vestige of their roasting

bodies could be seen by those silent figures that move out like
phantbms from the shadow of the copse into the glaring light ,
at the burning cabin. .

/

 

 

mmmnmmnmmsr. _ I?

_“Roland Rashleigh l" exclaimed the chief, turning to the
 robber captain with a baffled look, “ your victims have
> M = , perished—the girl is lost i” _

" "‘ “ Yes; curse you, Ralph Dickens, and you have lost your
thousand dollars i”

“ Villain, and—"

The renegade did not finish the seJtence, for the enraged
robber captain dealt him a blow in the face that almost jerked
“ "a , 'Lim out of his moccasins and sent him describing a circle

through the air.

“That, to highten the color of your chiefship’s phiz,"
hissed the captain, and turning he glided away through the
‘ woods to Where a horse was hitched, with a saddle and bridle
upon it.
»_ y In a moment he unfastened the animal, and vaulting into
13:; 1 J ‘. the saddle, dashed away at a furious speed.

  

 

 

CHAPTER V.
on) srmmor mums wrrn AN anvn'm'm

INs'mAD of finding a place where he could cross over the
'«eck and join Henry Eustace, 01d Strategy was compelled to
' give up all hopes of crossing that night, and retreat into the
’ woods, on account of the water which overflowed the banks of
‘ . I the stream and spread out into the bottom some distance.

This was quite a disappointment to the scout; nevertheless,
he took it all in good part, and with his dog set off in search
K t of a place where they could pass the night in safety. This
‘ hey soon found in a kind of a cavern in a rock where an
I old hear had once had a cosy lair.

Trusting to Sagacity to keep guard, as he had done on many

similar occasions, the scout crawled into the cave, and throw-
’ ' ’ ing himself upon the ground, soon fell asleep. '
3 ' ' He had slept scarcely an hour, when the dark for of a

 

   
   
  
 

hard the sleeping scout. A’ knife gleamed in his claw-like
. hand—a murderous look flashed in his serpent-like eyed.

~ crouching savage glided from around the base of a rock to,

 

88 OLD s'rnn'uoy,

Slowly on the savage crept, so silent that he was almost in 
reach of the scout ere Sagacity detected his presence. Then 
with a howl the faithful dog leaped upon the red-skin, and “’
seizing him by the throat, dragged him to the earth.

Old Strategy was aroused by the noise, and springing up, 2. _
he crawled to the mouth of the cave to ascertain the cause of
all the disturbance.

The light of the morning dawn enabled him to see the
the dog was engaged in a desperate struggle with a red-skin

“ Ho ! ho! that’s it, Sagacity, old boy,” shouted the scout.
“ Shake him—wool him, old boyl Go in, dissect him inter
wolf-bait—oh, but yer a jewel—a trumppold boy—can run
faster, jump higher, bark louder, smell stronger. and bite
deeper, than any dog that ever scratched gravel from a moun-
tain-path, or squeezed the wizzen o‘ a red-skin l” /

The struggle was as brief as it was desperate. Sagacl‘v
proved the victor, though he had been severely punished by
the red-skin’s knife.

“ Brave old dog," said the scout, patting the noble anima. 1
upon the head. “ Saved yer master’s life ag‘in, old boy; but ' i
you are hurt, cut, slashed and slathered, old boy, and ye must
have yer wounds dressed and tied up. This varmint’s blanket.
will do fur the purpose,” and turning about he took the
blanket from the dead savage's hack. 7 '

As he did so, something while fell with a flutter from its
'folds at his feet. Stooping, he picked it up, and found it to
boa paper written upon with a lead pencil. As there was
hardly light enough to read it by, the scout thrust it into the
bosom of his hunting-shirt, and proceeded to bandage Sagaeir

-ty’s wounds, which he found quite numerous. ‘ '

It was broad daylight before he had finished his suzgical
operation, and pronounced Sagacity out of danger. He now A. L
drew out the paper, unfolded it, and read as follows: ’ i 5‘

“ September 3d, 18—. a,

‘51“ t ‘2 1

  

 

' ' ’ “ Rashleigh’s Ranche.
“CAPTAIN Ans- SHERWOOD:
 “ DEAR am: You will make all possible haste and come.
heretat 011043. Your marriage with my dau hter must be con«
,Iummated at once, or else all may be lost. I I am not mistaken, r
“and I know I am not, I saw Captain Harry St. Clairin flesh and -' '- ~'
blood w-day. He is in disguise and may run counter to our

 

 

mm mam?- vm'nfioqms'r. 3

lens. Should Miriam got wind of his existence; the devil will

6 to In], and you will die on old bachelor. Come immedi-
atdy, tad ‘sring “Father Lucas ” with you to say the words.
“ROLAND RASIILEIGH."

Had Old Strategy been confronted by a visitor from the

planet Jupiter, he could not have started as he did upon rend-
' ing that note. Wonder, surprise, indignation, fear and joy

swept across his swarthy face in a moment’s time, and for a

while it seemed as though some terrible weight. was hearing
\l.im down.

Pie read and reread the note several times, then carefully
folding it, he placed it in the bosom of his hunting-shirt

’ again.

The scout now turned his attention to the dead Indian,
“whom he readily recognized as one of the mcst notorious
half breeds in the mountains, and who, for years, had been a
Valuable tool in the hands or" the mail-robbers.

it was Shaky, the messenger whom Captain Rashleigh had
seat, but a short time before, from the ranche with a dispatch
to Cgptain Alf Sherwood.

“Wai, Sagacity, old boy," said the scout, addressing his

-' canine friend, who now more resembled a bunch of rags than
a dog. “ You don’t know what a glorious deed ye’ve 'd in
splittin’ the wizzen 0’ this red. Yer an indispensable Jewel,
old boy ; one thet allers ’ll shine inter the busom o’ my eye,
like the tail 0__’ n flamingo in a mud-puddle. Here, old boy,
is sumthin’ to take the bad taste out o‘ yer mouth.”

The scout drew from his pocket a few pieces of dried
hnfl‘alo-meat, and dividing them with his dog, he took up his
rifle and commenced retracing his steps to the creek, partaking
of his rude breakfast as he moved along.

When he reached the creek he found that it had falle
quite within the banks. Crossing oVer, he set otf on a bris‘i .
walk in high hopes of overtaking Henry Eustace. So easily

,; and rapidly did he move along, apparently without any ‘

 physical exertion of his own, that he seemed to be moving

‘ on invisible Wings, or impelled by some secret power.

Nownnd then a smile would wreath his face, showing that

some pleasant thought occupied his mind, and then, at times,

[his brow would darken like a storm-cloud, and his band

“would wander involuntarily to his belt.

 

sub emu-ear,

And thus, with the sunshine and shadow
ill sweeping across his mind, h: continued
with his faithful and wounded dog at his heels.

Noontide found him threading his course along a tortuous
and rocky path, leading up a dark and deep ravine in thcPla-sk
Hills. Presently he turned aside, and parting some wild eage-
hnshes, revealed the month of a cavern.

“ Home ag'in, old boy—horse from a foreign shore," the
scout exclaimed, as he threw his rifle into the hollow of is
left arm and ndvanued into the cave, closer followed 2);;
Sagacity.

This cave was the head-quarters o.‘ Old Strategy. Hen
' he had lived alone with his dog fer three years, unmolcsted

by the wily red-man, who regarded the ravine in which 1‘.
was located with a superstitious fear.

The cave was large and roomy, with a small opening I
overhead that admitted the sunshine, and allowed the smoke
to pass out when the scout found it necessary to have a 

A couple of withc chairs, some cooking utensils, a pallet 7
of the skins of wild animals, and a shelf witha few time.
worn books upon it, constituted the furniture of the apartment.

“Dinner the rust. thing, old boy,” said the scout, setting
asidghis rifle.

Going to one corner of the cavern, he took from the wall
a slice of dried venison and smoked bear‘s meat, and dividing
it with his dog, he sat down to his dinner and eat voracionsly.
When he had finished his rude repast he arose to his feet feel-
ing; much refreshed.

In a few minutes he was ready to resume his journey to-
ward the settlement again, not, however, hefore he had care-
fully washed and dressed Sagacity's wounds.

"Now, Sagacity, old boy,” he said, throwing the dog a
shoulder of hear's meat, and taking up his ritle. “I’m 01?
lur a long tramp, but, you’ll have to stay here. old boy, till I
come back. Yer health won’t admit o’ yer goin’ out, though
I hate most ort‘nlly to leave yer behind. But ye jist stay here
till I come back an’ we’ll have a rousin’ lime. Jist. go in, and
while away the moments onter thet b’ar‘s hump. ‘Go back,
Sagacity, go back, old boy; I hate to leave ya, but yet
health won’t. admit o’ it.” ' '

 

 

Hag

v

fifth-‘6

 

 

 

TEE rmemn mmmnoqms'r. '1 ‘41
\ .
I ’The faithful brute was loth to stay behind, and whirled
piteouaiy when he saw his master’s form receding in the dis-
tance.
The scout's course still lay through a rough and wooded
country, along the base of the Black Hills, yet he allowed no
trivial object to impede his [nogress

‘7: Two or three hours’ brisk walking brought him into a low,
I level and heavily-wooded valley, where not a breath of air
{a , was stirring, and where the sun shone down but and ,
' 'Scorching.

w,“ lWhile moving through this valley he was suddenly startled

by the “whirr” of a bullet in close proximity to his head,
and the quick tramping of moccasined feet approaching him.
Turning quickly, he discovered a powerful Indian. with the

_ smoke still curling from his rifle, and upraised tomahawk,rush-

i, ing toward him.

Quick as the lightning’s flush leaves its home in the sky,

 Old Strategy raised his rifle and fired. With a yell the sav-
 age fell dead, but the scout had scarcely time to realize his
' victory when he beheld, but a few steps away, another glim-
mering rifle-bartel—along which gleamed a pair of savage

eyes—leveled t'ull upon him. Quickly springing aside, the
bullet passed harmlessly through the space where he had stood,

‘. hat in changing his position the scout had brought a large
3‘ tree directly between him and the red-skin. This, however,

‘ he considered no ill luck, as the tree would afford him shelter

{.5 until he could reload his rifle.

 In a minute he had reloaded his piece, and had begun
 edging around the tree to get a view of the sawge, when, to
 his amusement and surprise, he discovered the tufted head of

V, the red-skin edging around the other side of the tree with u

" imilar object in View, that of getting a glimpse of the scout.

Both sprung quickly hack, but they miscalculaled the die
lance and came together so violently that each was thrown
forward upon his face. However. neither of them was long
in gathering himself up and placing the tree between them
again; and then began a series of maneuvering-s to dislodge
each other, unparalleled in the life of Daniel Boone or Lentil

Wetzel.‘

" ' The savage seemed to be acting only on the defensive, and

 

 
  
  
   
  

 

19 K . OLD srmmev,

made few attempts to draw his enemy out, while on the other
hand, the scout tried every artifice that his brain could invent,
but all to no purpose; the red-skin kept the same distance
between them, with as much case as timiin the air that inter-
vened between them pressed the savage away as fast as the
scout advanced.

Bqth were afraid to make a sudden dash around the tree
1hr fear of running under a tomulutwk, or against the point
- of a knife, and in case either one attempted to shoot the other,

the muzzle of his gun would appear around the tree so far in
advance of him, that the other would be out of the way as
soon as he got around; consequently it was a game at which
both could play with equal success.

Old Strategy at last came to the conclusion that he had
met his match, and he could think of no way by which he
could throw the savage of? his guard, unless it was by open-
ing a conversation with him. This mode of maneuvering,
the scout had found, on several previous occasions, was quite
a successful one, and he at once put it into force.

“ I say, red-skin, this is a plll‘ly hot day," he said, in the
Indian tongue, of which he was a master.

“ Ugh," grunted the red-skin, in reply. .

“ And I say you’re a coward,” the scout continued.

“ You dam weak squaw I” blurted the red-skin, aiming to
Show off his knowledge of the English vocabulary of pro-
fanity.

“I sw’ar you're a tough cuss, red-skin; you’re a reg’lu!
wind-bag, stump-sucker and pole-cat combined.”

“ You pale-face dog.”

“ Say, red-skin, w’at ye doin’ ’round thar ?”

“ Come see.”

“ Guess not, red-skin ; coolest round he-ar.”

“ Then stay.”

" Wal, I will, but how long he ye goin’ to tread soil 'round
that l‘”

“ Till git scalp."

“Ha! ha! ha l” laughed the scout, as an idea flashed in
his mind. “ I’ll bet you my gizzard ag’inst yourn thet you
don’t."

“ Good!" ejaculated the red-skin.

 

um TRAPPER VENTRILOQUIST. 4B

The scout drew his hunting-knife from his belt, and stoop-
ing over, he cut a tough switch that grew at the root of the
tree, about five feet long. Then replacing his knife in its
sheath, he took the switch in one hand and his tomnhnwk in
the other, and raising upon his tip-toes to gather force, be
brought the switch a furious cut around the tree about the
hight of the savage’s shoulders.

A cry of pain, such as might have been uttered by a
wounded panther, escaped the red-skin’s lips. As the weather
was extremely hot, the savage were no other garments than
a loin-cloth, consequently, his naked back was exposed to the
full force of the blow.

_ “ Say, red-skin, what's the ticket’round thar? Enny thing
r up, eh?”
“ Waugh! shut mouth,” replied the savage, with a groan.
“Did yer dad ever give ye a switchin’ when ye‘s a boy,
r red-skin?" .
“No,” replied the red-skin, still unconscious from whence
' had come the sudden and stinging blow.
 “ Wal, yer a dirty dog 0’ a red-skin, and I’ll hev to warn)
" , yer jacket fur ye,” whereupon the scout began warping the
, switch around the tree and the red-skin’s naked back nnd
 shoulders with such a vim that the switch fairly whistled.
L The red-skin set up a prolonged howling that increased in
.7 loudness at every stroke; and still to make matters more
f' painful to him, Old Strategy burst into a hearty laughter.
in This was too much for the the haughty spirit of Mr. Lo, so he
turned, with his back in a perfect ridge of wells, and the

' 7.,‘3 deer, bounded away under cover of the undergrowth.
The scout sent a random bullet after him, accompanied by
.1 V mocking shout, then, reloading his rifle, set off on hiSJOUF-x
.irney. But he had proceeded source a dozen rods when a yell
behind warned him of a new danger.
'Glnncing back the scout discovered the identical whipped

p In a moment he
V brought his rifle to bear upon them, but owing to their dodg

“ting, without effect.
_ Being a swift runner himself, the scout took to his heels

 

  

OLD STRATEGY,

     

 

loading his rifle as he ran; The race became one of great * 1
interest to both pursuers and pursued, and they were nearly
across the little valley or plateau, when the latter discovered
that his enemies were fast gaining upon him.

Just before the scout was a dense thicket in which he at
once determined to elude the red-skins if possible, if not, he
would give them battle.

Continuing on, he had almost gained the edge of the thicket
when he suddenly received a stinging blow between the eyes
that came near measuring his length upon the ground, and
that. caused him to behold a galaxy of stars that our astrono- V-
mers have nowhere mentioned in their works upon ,the 
heavenly bodies. I

Fora moment the scout was certain that his brain had '
been pierced by a bullet, but he soon had reason to change
his opinion for the better, when he became cognizant of a dull
buzzing about his ears. He had been stung by a yellow hor-
net. '

“Holy horrors o’ Gotham! if that warn’t a sockdolager,’ ’
yeller—jacket, old boy. I’ll give my bread-basket fora nest l” ,
exclaimed the scout, rubbing his eyes and plunging into the-5
thicket, “ but I’ll be skulped and skinned, if ye haiu’t poked V
a. bright idea inter my head as well as yer eu35ed javelin, old
boy." ‘ ,_
The idea presented by the hornet’s “ javelin ” to the scont’li
mind, was more forcibly impressed by the appearance of a
huge nest hanging on a bush but a few steps before him, and
a number of the ill-mttured little inhabitants frisking about
the door ready to pounce upon any intruder. '

Quick as thought, the scout darted by the huge hornetv .
nest, and concealing himself in the thick weeds and brule :-
within a few feet of it, awaited the approach of the red-skins. 
He had not long to wait, for in a moment they put in their _
appearance within arm’s length of the hornet-nest. At the .
same instant the scout reached his rifle forward and thrust the '.
muzzle through the frail domicile of the insects. ‘ 7 .

With a buzzing sound a perfect cloud of enraged hornet ‘
glided out of their demolished palace and settled upon t
unsuspecting savages—in their hair, in their faces and ey
Ind mouth and upon their naked backs—causing them

    
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
 
    
  
 
  

r

y'n“w_

1,7
S r'.

 

I lw..

 
 

 

 
   
       
   
     
   
    

I /

  

      
 
 
    
  
 
    
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
  
  
       
      
    
   
    
   
   

THE TRAPPER VEN’IRILOQUIST. 45

drop their weapons, and .then themselves upon the ground,
5d : and roll and squirm and yell in the wildest agonies of pain.

. And all the while they were umlere‘oingr this severest ofsnfi‘er-
M, if inga, Old Stratng sat within his cm‘el' witnessing the turn of

ye  the joke in a convulsion of laughter. But, presently, asingle
stray hornet wandered his way, and giving him a spat with

m liis"‘javeliu ” upon the end of" his nose, caused him to beat. a

‘ea sudden and hasty retreat settlementward.

nd ,. “ llorrors o’ Gotham! " exclaimed the scout, feeling of his

10- nose which immediately began to swell up like a maddenetl

L115  toad. “I’ll be husted into the middle 0’ next year if that

_ cussed rantankerous Wanderiu’ Jew 0’ a yeller—jacket hadn’ta
“‘5 dozen bearded jthellllS. I’ll sw'ar it won’t he long till a feller ,
lge ' couldn’t tell whether I had a nose stuck miter my head, or a

1”“ head stuck outer my nose. But thar's one thing sartin, and
mt. , that is, them 'ere three lilies 0’ the valley won’t foller me fur
er- one week anyhow. Whew! I‘ll go a land-title in Jarnsalem
it P: that their hides are fuller o‘ holes than my old boy, Sagacity,
ml; is full 0’ hairs.”

med ' Without further molestation, old Strategy pushed on .
old ,2 through the woods, though he momentarily noticed that he

. was following a larger nose than he was accustomed to.

out’sli’ “Devil take that yeller-jaelcet and hisjat‘elin! " he would

of a. ‘ omnsionally exelaim, as he trudged along.

and .
.bont ' 1-3

 

I

>rnet- .
ans
skins.

CHAPTER VI.

ansmcn’s nusn 2.2m men.

  

WHEN Henry Eustace found that Old Strategy could not
,ycross the stream, he concluded to continue his journey alone
T ‘toward the settlement, for some vague feeling which he could
not. drive away, forced upon him the belief that he was mo-
mentarily needed at home. This belief was strengthened,
hops, by the mysterious disappearance of Ralph Dickens,
hem he had always considered a friend, and his own capture
u' the red-skins. In all, taking into consideration the story

  

   

  

OLD STRATEGY,

 
  

  

of the scout’s seeing certain signals in the 11.113, replied to by
similar signals near the camp, it was certain that some design

was made upon the young hunter's life, through the agencies

of others than the savages.

Other visions than those of danger passed through the
young hunter’s mind, for there is always more or less sunshine
and shadow in every heart. There were visions of a happy
home, and the smiling faces of a fond old father and mother ‘
while down deep in his heart shone the vision of a fair young -,
face—the source from whence sprung all those bright hopes I"

i
it

. v-gt—wffim‘  g

 

of the future.

Harper’s settlement lay fully two days’ travel to the south-
east, but, pushing forward, young Eustace determined to make
- the distance, if possible, that night and the following day.

The night paSsed by and the morning dawned clear and
warm with its song of birds; all nature seemed greatly rc-
freshed by the recent rain. But the daylight brought an un-
easiness to his peaceful progress. ’

In the soft, yielding soil he discovered several fresh mocca-
sin tracks, all pointing toward the settlement, and his fears
were that they had been made by a. party of hostile savages 
moving upon the settlement; and if so, they would in all pro-
bability reach there in advance of him and take the settlers ’
off their guard.  — ,

Henry still pushed on faster than ever since he had made y,‘
this discovery, but as the (lay advanced he found that he was .
overtaxing his strength and was fast becoming exhausted, .
more with hunger than exertion, for he had had nothing to 
eat since the previous evening when he went into camp withxfipv‘
Dickens. However, he determined to press on and trust to fate}: -

It was about noon, when moving along a dark and narrow“:
defile between two hills thickly covered with stunted pines he}
found his passage blocked by a large bear seated upon his':

s-r,’ r,

 

 

    

,'

 

‘ THE TRAPPER VENTRIIDQIIYS'I‘. 

Turning around, Henry found himsell’ lat-e to [are with two
 fierce, burly-looking men, whom he knew, hy their dress and
weapons, were robbers, and who were totally unconscious, of

l the presence of the bear.

L “Hol hot by gor, Zeke l” exclaimed one of the robbers,

é “ here’s our game for the captain’s thousand dollars l”

‘y “Henry Eustace! as I’m a horn ’l‘exan l" exclaimed the
other desperado with surprise. ‘* Why, 1 thought ltalph Dick-
ens had him in a tint-shell. I sw’ar he thinks so, ennyhow 1”

“No, sir; I escaped from that villain’s power," said Henry,
showing no surprise whatever.

“ Yes, a. slippery one, youngster. by the sereamin‘ eammount
ye are; but, do ye know that thar’s a thousand dollars reward

— offered for ye by Captain Rashleigh, o' tlte Rattlesnake ranche?"

“ No. Why does he offer a reward for the i?" asked Henry.

_ “ \Val, ye stand atwixt the capting and old Harper's gal,

-: and he wants to oust ye ; so I don‘t know but what we might

as well hev the thousand as the renegade, Dickens, eh ’l‘eters!"

.7 ~ “ Sartainly, sarlainly, it’s all the same to Reckless Roll; so

‘ come, trot out here, my boy, and we’ll run ye over to the

ranche in a. jiffy.”

“ Not a step will I go with you, villains l” replied Ilenr ',
preparing himself for defense.

“ Wal, by gor, Teters, don’t that heat yet A pale-faced bog-
telling Zeke ’l‘eters and Belzy ’l‘rott, two of the best and
bravest tnen along the “route,” that he won’t do S()-tlll(l~SO.
« Come, now, hoy, know ye with whotn ye fool ?”

" I know,” replied Henry, snecringly.

, “ Then you know Ezekiel Teters and Beelzebnb ’I‘rott, two
of the best and bravest men along the great National. And
jye should know enufl" not to talk back to them. Now Come,
Mt, you are our game—jist a cool thoumnd dollars in you, sir,
lmd no mistake. Come,“ and the villain advanced with the
intention of taking hold of Henry, but the latter withdrew a
step and said: ,

l “Villains! if you lay your hands upon me, I will have
you torn to piecus l”

“ Hal hat hal" roared one of the desperadocs, “ hear that,
will ye, Bclzy? The boy t'ancies hisselt' n catamonnt. or a
, painter!” r

,J‘v-m

7—,
xa‘.

rump-W, J.“

J

-v ‘2

.B'vr

 

  
  

  

      
    
 
 
 
  
   
   
    
      
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
     

\ 48 OLD summer, 1 
At this juncture Henry heard it kind of a scratching sound

behind him,and he knew that the hear was either advnncing,r to- 1‘
‘wurd them or retreating, and he resolved to outwit the rob- 
’ ‘ bers, if possible, by a hold stroke. {,1
Turning and pointing toward the hear—which proved to '

be moving toward them—Henry said to the robbers:
“ Unless you leave here at once I will set my pet bear upon it

you, and make him tear you into shreds l” 4‘} 8,
“Oh! oh i” exclaimed the worthies, with sudden (our, :r 3‘ m
their eyes fell upon the advancing hear. ": w
“ Going?" exclaimed lIt-nry, following up his advantage. it.“
“Keep him back, Mr. Eustace, for God’s sake keep him {‘0‘
buck, and we‘ll fly l” exclaimed ’l‘eters, in a paroxysm of fear.  11-
“Be gone then—back, hruin t“ commanded Henry. 7
The robbers needed no further warning, but, turning, they (4,-
' fled with all possible speed ; and the last, Henry Eustace saw Ml
of the two brace tnen—-Ezeltial 'l‘eters and Bet‘lzehub ’l‘rott—— I" e;

,'..x :
t

they were flying over the hill with the speed of the wind.
Bruin, less obedient than the cowardly robbers, continued
to advance slowly up the path, but he showed no disposition
of being quarrelsome, and Henry felt no disposition to rouse
his anger, so he stepped aside to let the hear pass, but 714
turned aside also. Henry sprung back into the path nnd
rushed swiftly down the defile, and to his horror the bear .
turned and followed after him in a slow, shufiiiug trot.
Henry saw that the aniuml meant him mischief now, so he
mised his rifle and fired. The brute uttered a ferocious howl
lud rushed on with increased speed. ’
The young hunter was now in a precarious situation. Al-
most exhausted with fasting and mental excitement, he could
' make but slow progress through the ohstructing undergrowth
while the bear, maddened by his wound, went. crushing
through it as though it was but grass. .
On—on they fled. It'lomeutarily the bear gained upon the
r young hunter. He could hear his heavy t'oott'alls and quick,
irregular breathing, so close was he. Suddenly a score of rifles
ypeal out and the hear rolls dead upon the ground, while
Henr , overcome with exhaustion, falls fainting to the ground
and into the power of a score of savages that had been
waiting in ambush for him. '

as. finagw.
‘ m'
... S a

£1!

   

4.  I;

 

 

, TEE mum: vanrnmoqms‘r. 0

C H A P T E R V I I
THE ruorrrvns I»: run FOREST.

Comma and fuming with rage, Ralph Dickens, the rene-
gade chief, gathered himself up, and would have wreaked a
terrible vengeance on the author of his blacked eye, had that

?, worthy not been missing. As it was, however, he pacified his

; spirit by giving vent to a string of revengeful oaths, then went

out and mingled with his braves, who were standing about the

ruins of Ambrose Harper‘s cabin.

The chief addressed his braves in a few encouraging words
ifs-made them promises that he would never fulfill—told them
J{ithings that were not true, and revived their spirits pretty gen-
,;, erally. '
15L \ In a short time all their (lead had been buried, their
3?.WOunded gathered up, and they were moving away from the
'scene of their disastrous defeat.

Scareer had the savages disappeared in the forest on one
hide of the burning cabin, than three persons glided from the
b ‘forest on the Opposite side into the glaring light.

:23 They were Ambrose Harper and his daughter, and Sciprthe

fryBlack Hunter, as he was most generally called.

' [In building his cabin, Mr. Harper had ii is; :4 subterranean

' [passage from under the floor of his cabin to the banks of the

_, little stream a few yards distance; and through this secret

,Passage, the three had made their escape from the burning

ibuilding, out into the shadows of night.

. Tears were in Edna’s eyes as she looked upon the ruins of
.her home, yet she did not murmur against fate, but felt thank-
, ‘hlI to heaven that they were so fortunate as to escape with
’ltbeir lives.

' The question now was, where they should go to for safety.

l'he firing at the settlement was still going on, and they knew

from the confusion that it was being closely. besieged by a

shite number of red-skins. Consequently, it would be useless

.30, attempt to seek safety there. even should they run the gaunt

ht of the assailants ‘

it
y
g,


re: sweating

 

   
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
 

 

 
 

  
 

\

  
 

OLD STRATEGY,

 

Their only course was to flee to the mountain fastness, and
remain there until they could have time to go elsewhere. To
' Mr. Harper this seemed the most feasible course, and they at
7 once resolved to set oil“ on their journey.
They had proceeded but a short distance when Mr. Harper
came to an abrupt halt and said: '
“Edna, our friends are being sorely pressed by the red-skins
at the settlement, and it seems as though I am doing them an
injustice by going away.” ‘ i.
“I am sure, father, that if either you or Scip can render our 2,
friends any assistance, you may go, both of you. Ican go alone '
to the cave in Bear’s Hill,” the brave girl replied.
“ No, no, Edna, that would never do, my dear girl. If Scip .
will go with you, I will return and assist the settlers.” j
“ I's dc chile, massa Harper, dat’ll die before harm shall come 
to miss Edna,” said the Black Hunter. “Ye needn’t be ’fraid 5’
to trust her with old Seip, for he knows every hole an’ corner }
l
A

 
 
 

in de Black Hills.”

“ Then you may accompany Edna to the cave in Bear’s Hill,
and if the settlers succeed in driving the savages away before
morning, I’ll come after you to-morrow. In case I should not

7 come to-morrow, the next day you had better set off for Archer’s
. settlement and I will join you there in a few days. Go, and -
may God speed you.” r V

So saying Ambrose Harper took up his rifle and moved away \-
toward the besieged settlement, while Seip and his fair charge 
wcnded their way toward Bear’s Hill. 

Their journey lay through the forest, and although the 
moon was shining brightly, the deep shadows of the trees ‘3:
made it pitchy dark, and it was only by holding on to the ,3
Black Hunter’s arm that they were enabled to keep together. , 

The Black llunter was a shrewd and cautious backwoods- *
man, and as they moved along his eyes and cars were never oil
their guard. Several times he imagined that ‘he heard the soft,
pantherlike trend of a savage moving along in advance of them, K
but with his ritle resting in the hollow of his left arm, llu 7»
pressed on, ready for any emergency. 7

Suddenly, as they were passing through a darker portion 0!
the forest. t'iey were startled by the whizzing of_ a tomahawk

through the air in close proximity to the Black Huntersheadyi ‘

 
  
 
 
 
 

   

\

 
 

  

2;
r:
11, 7 name. But there was no response.
lie He spoke louder, then he shouted, but only the dull echoes
0t ,_ of his own words came back to his ears. ’
as Edna. Harper was gone.
,d . “ 0h, Lor’! Lor’l whar is ye, miss Edna ?" exclaimed the ne-
g; gro, gliding hither and thither through the darkness in a. par-
,y  ‘ oxysm of rage and sorrow. “Oh, Lor‘, dis nigger’s repetit-
:3  shuu’s ruined, shuah !" '

 For fully an hour the Black Hunter sought in vain for Edna,
,5» 7 or some traco that would lead him to the true knowledge of
as 927 her fate. Then he sat down and scratched his woolly pate and
{e j mumbled for some time about his lost reputation, and then fin-

 ally he arose to his feet and set off through the forest in high

   

\

    
 
 

'rnn 'rnarpnn vnm'anoqursr. 51

  

and the next moment the darkcy found himself upon the ground
struggling with a red-skin.

It was evident that the savage had aimed his tomahawk at
the head of the negro with such force that, missing his mark,
the tomahawk flew from his hand, and the impetus of the in-
tended blow carried, or pitched the red-skin forward against
the negro so violently that both fell to the ground.

Over and over the combatants rolled in the dark, neither of
. them uttering a sound nor a word. It was a. struggle in which
i the participants were equally matched—neither of them gain-

, ' ing any advantage over the other. But, suddenly, the Black
a Hunter, in rolling over, felt his antagonist melt, as it were, from
his grasp, and reaching down before him, he grasped nothing Y
but the empty air. With a feeling akin to horror, he realized
that he was sitting upon the brink of a deep chasm, up from
whose depths came the death-groan of the unfortunate Indian.

For a moment the darkey had forgotten Edna, and when his

thoughts recurred to her, he sprung to his feet and spoke her

    
     
   
 
 
 
    
    
  
   
   
 
 
    
   
   

th .4 3: it

 
 

‘ v hopes of running across Edna, who, after all, might have got
scared and run off while he was engaged with the savage.
But, hours of search proved unrewarded, and by this time
it had grown late in the night and the negro resolved to seek .
seine place of safety and rest until morning when he would
resume his search for Edna. '
Turning his face toward the south-west he set ofi‘ at a rapid
, pace, and presently he halted upon the banks of the Plath
j river, which he found-much swollen by the late rain.

 
       
     
     
   

  

\!

r n ’ one must,

Just before the negro, and leaning out over the river almost

~ parallel with the water‘s surface, was a large cottonwood tree

that had been partly uprooted by the water‘s motion.
Crawling out upon this tree, the Black Hunter ensconced

V himself among the thick branches and foliage with the purpose

of spending the remainder of the night.
Above and below .him the broad river lay bathed in the

" vhght of the moon like a bed of molten silver, and every object
upon its surface was visible for some distance, unless it the

along the shadow of the banks.
However, but few minutes had elapsed, when the negro dis—
covered a dark object, resembling a bunch of brush, floating

(out‘from the shore into the middle of the stream about two
. hundred yards below. This object became stationary when it

reached the center of the stream, and then it was immediately
followed by another and another, until a dark chain of brush
spanned the river.

Shortly after making this discovery, the negro happened to
look up the stream, when to his surprise he beheld a dim, blue
light waving to and fro among the tree-tops at the distance of
half a mile away. This, he knew, was an Indian telegraphic
dispatch, but its import he was unable to read, yet he knew
that it boded somebody no good.

While he was engaged in watching the moving light with
a deep curiosity, he was suddenly startled by the light dip of

' an oar, and peering through the thick foliage of the Lee, he

faintly discerned a canoe, containing two occupants, moving
down the river in the shadow of the east shore, and it would

» pass directly under the tree Where he was concealed.

Cooking his rifle for instant use, the Black Hunter awaited
he approach of the canoe, in breathless silence.

__ #mewnv M ,

  
 
    
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

‘Annunn- bum

M

x

   
 
    
 

 

  

TEE TRAPPER V ENTBILOQUXII'.

CHAPTER VIII.
EDNA‘n Anvnx'runes

[m as now return and look after Edna Harper.

The moment that the Black Hunter and the savage rolled
to the ground in each other’s grasp, a blanket was thrown over
Edna‘s head, and the next instant she felt herself lifted in I
pair of strong arms and borne swiftly away.

She endeavored to cry out, but the heavy fold of the blanket
completely stifled her voice. She struggled hard to free her-
self, but her efforts were as puny as an infant’s in the hands of
her unknown abductor.

, After she had been carried some distance, she was placed‘

half-suffocated, upon the ground, and the blanket removed from
her head. She raised her eyes and gazed at her cnptor. To
her dizzy senses he appeared a monstrous giant—tall as the
trees around them.

The giant saw that the maiden did not recognize him, and
looking down into her lovely face, upon which the moon was
shining through an opening in the trees overhead, and in a.
tone of admiration, he exclaimed:

“ Beautiful l”

Had an adder stung her to the heart, Edna could not. have

/‘

; finned with such a feeling of utter hopelessness in her heart

as she did upon hearing that voice. All her courage seemed
to desert her and a dull faintness came over her.
It was the voice of Roland Rashieigh, the robber captain.
A grim1 triumphant smile rested upon his features, a. savage
fight flashed in his eyes.
“ So I have you at last, Miss Edna," the robber said, after
,‘ew moments’ silence.
' I At once, all the quick and bitter fire of her womanly nature
Was aroused. No fear, no humiliation blanched her face now,
but . not flush suffused her brow and her eyes flashed with

tion. . .
“WI-em; r! me,cfied, clinch/13c her little hand, an if to

 

 
 

  

   
    
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
      
      
 
      

M 0m) srrwma r,

  

give emphasis to her words or strike the villain down.
is it that you treat me thus?”
He smiled bitterly, and replied:
“ I should think you would know. Because I am deter
mined that you shall be my wife.” V ED?

“ Then you are determined upon that which will never be '." ‘
. Edna replied, haughtily. . f

“ I thought so once to—night, when your cabin burnt down,
Miss Edna, for I was sure you perished in the flames. It is  “L
yet quite a mystery to me how you escaped, and had you not 7
returned into the light of the burning building after the 1n- ’1‘
dians left, I would never have known that you escaped at all.” ‘ 1“
As it was, you were seen by a lurking red-skin, who apprised ‘11
me of the fact, and in company with him, I set out to follow
you and your sable escort—"

“ Following like a blood-hound l” sneered Edna.

“Just as you prefer, miss,” Rashleigh replied. “But one
thing is certain, and that is, that you will regret that you re-
fused my avowal of love to—day."

“ Never 1” Edna fairly hissed. “ 1/ am mistress of my own
life if not my body l"

“ I admire your courage. Miss Harper, as well as your beauty,
yet you know not with whom you have to deal. Had you ac-
cepted my suit when I sought your hand, Harper’s settlement
would never have been molested, and you might have led a
difl'erent life ; now you shall be the unwilling bride of Roland  l
Rashleigh, the robber captain.”  1

“ Quite a distinguished gentleman you are,” Edna replied, '
sarcastically. “ Indeed, it would be quite an honor to be the  ‘
willing bride of a robber, was one certain that they would not
be made a widow within the year through the instrumentality

g..t.:~,w: W W...
a :4 =1 '9 5

KM“ m we ‘

‘f the halter of justice.”
“ I have no fears )f what you call justice, Miss Edna, i‘
or-—” ’ w
“ Have you no fears of God ‘2"
'\ ‘ The robber captain was fairly silenced by this question. It

recalled dark crimes and evil deeds to his mind—crimes and
' deeds for which, sooner or later, he knew heaven’s vengeanee‘
would punish him. To one it would have seemed that, for that
mmnt, Edna was the capmr, and could she have to

      

. y/ I
THE TRAPPER VENTRILOQUIST. L 55

i 3

     
      
   
    
   
   
    
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

preached him with all his wickedness he would have fairly
' ‘groaned under the staring accusations, for at heart he was a
base-born coward.
m- . After a few moments’ silence, he rallied his usual bravado-
spirits, and said, evasively:
3 3" V “ From an avowed purpose, I never allow myself to be
f lm‘ned by any fears whatever, Miss Edna." I
m.  " Do you propose talking here all night i?” Edna asked,
is  abruptly changing the subject.
M  “No, my impatient dear; I expect to be fifty miles from
j“. I“ here before daybreak. I have two horses just a few steps from
Lu" J here which we will ride. You see I have come prepared for
Cd , this occasion; and now, as you seem quite anxious, we’ll be
)W " on"
So saying, the robber captain seized Edna by the arm, and
led her to where two horses were hitched, pawing the earth inn
,6 patiently.

Assisting the maiden to the back of one of the animals,
Rashleigh mounted the other, and for fear that Edna might
,n . attempt to escape upon her horse, he took the veins and led it,
moving away toward the north.

Their course lay through forest, over a wild, broken region,
yet the robber captain seemed perfectly familiar with the we)
and galloped on at a goodly speed.

Edna was an accomplished rider, and found no difficulty in

'hy.

,e. 5

:7. 9 r:
Inez,“ 1M.

8
d ’ keeping herself easily and gracefully seated upon the animal's
back.
1‘  Rashleigh talked on incessantly, but the maiden replied, , ,

e :1 only now and then, in monosyllablcs. Iler mind was busied

a J with other thoughts than of being the wife of the robber cap
 min—thoughts of her father and the Black Hunter, of Henry ‘:
f; Eustace, her lover, and even thoughts of escape were strongly

~ ', entertained in the brave and noble girl’s mind.

I At heart Edna was sad, but her pride of spirit and courage

, Prevented her from revealing her feelings by her words, to the

A;  robber, whose sole conversation was in attempt to humble her

Spirit and soften her sarcastic and defiant mood. But as well

[insight he have attempted to silence the fury of a storm.

4 ...‘_For hours they continued en—sometimes at a breakneck .

 Nd, and sometimes in a slow walk. It was pitchy dark be

\

      
    
   
   
   
   
   

56 OLD STRATEGY,

neath the forest trees; so very dark in places, that one of the
riders could not distinguish the outlines of the other at two
yards distance.

Presently a small opening in the forest, where the moon
shone down_in dazzling splendor, was reached.

That he might gaze for a moment upon the features of his
beautiful prisoner, Rashleigh drew rein, and without turning
his head, exclaimed :

“ What a beautiful and romantic spot is this, Miss Har-
per 1"

There was no response.

The villain turned his head, and as he did so, a terrible
oath escaped his lips.

Edna Harper was missing from her animal‘s back!

In a. paroxysm of rage and disappointment, Roland Rash-
leigh ground his teeth and cursed his luck, cursed himself,
Edna, and even the dumb brutes that he rode and led. He
was the true picture of a baflled and enraged demon.

For fully five minutes he sat and swore, then he dismounted,
and leading the animals to the edge of the “ romantic spot”
he tied them to a tree, and started back along the course they
had come in hopes of finding his lost prize.

Searcer had his footsteps died away in the distance, ere the
form of Edna Harper glided out from the shadow of the forest
into the opening.

A smile of triumph was upon her face—a resolute and de-
termined gleam in her eyes.

But a few rods from the point where the robber captain
emerged into the opening, she had made her escape. While .
passing under a wide-branching tree, she threw her hands
above her head, and catching hold of a limb, held on to it
until her horse had passed out from under her; then, with all
her weight upon it, the limb bent gradually down until ln-r
feet touched the ground, and she was free again.

v The maiden lntd not thought of this plan of escape a min-
ute before she put it into execution; and perhaps she would
not have attempted it at all, had it not been a feat which she .
had often performed before in her childhood days, when she '
was the mistress of a gentle old horse, upon which she would
ramble through the forest, often climbing from thexfoithful ,

 

'rms mm  ‘ 57

bruta’s back into trees or swinging ofi‘ by a limb. Little did
she dream then, that her childish amusements and wild ram
\ blings were practical trainings that would be useful to her in
: after years.
.v ’ Crossing the opening to where the enraged captain ha]
: i hitched the horses, Edna unfastened them, and mounting upon
the back of one, and leading the other. she dashed away into
the forests‘ shadows just as Roland Rashleigh, defeated and
v»: " outwitted, made his appearance in the opening again, foaming
‘  with rage and savage threats.
' “ Curses an that girl, she has beaten me at last t—stolen, or
' I'nther taken, my horse right out from under me! But, I’ll
be even with you yet, miss 1" and he shook his clinched list
in the direction she had gone.
_ Edna, highly pleased, and yet. surprised at her bold feat
win outwitting the robber captain, dashed on at a rapid speed
_ [until she felt she was beyond his reach ; then she reined the
,miimals toa walk, that she could more definitely consider
,‘the course she was pursuing. But she had been changed
5around so often without making any note of the fact in her
‘ confused mind, that she found she was completely bewildered.
‘However, she pushed forward ag‘in, determined to allow the
robber no possible chance of finding her again, and in hope
of finding some place of safety.
. , As the night advanced and the moon sunk lower and lower,
in double darkness seemed to come over the forest, and it
,was 1only by trusting to the instinct of the animals that Edna
could guard against danger by plunging down some steep
*declivity or into some yawning abyss.
 A deep silence pervaded the forest, and as Edna rode on
Beneath its leafy arches, not a sound came to her ears save
the steady trampling of her animals' feet, and now and then
“M. ‘startled scream of a night-bird. Once, hewever, she was
pure that she heard the soft, panther-like tread of a savage,
“sud the animal that she was leading became almost unman-
f,geable, but from what cause she was unable to tell, for the
itchy darkness hid even the anilnnl from view.
“Presently she emerged into nu open plain where she \\‘:\I
~imlfled to see quite distinctly. Drawing ‘rein, she gnzed
\ ' t, her, and us she did so, she uttered a shriek of horror,

 

58 OLD s'rnn'rnev,

and jerked her animal back almost upon its haunches, for
'- upon the horse that she was leading, was sealeda grim, hideous-
lookz’ng savage, with a fiendish smile upon his dusky face.

In an instant; Edna sprung to the ground and attempted’ '
to escape back into the forest, but another savage emerged
from the woods at this juncture and seized and dragged the
poor fugitive back to the horses. She was immediately re-
placed upon her horse and a cord placed around her waist,
to prevent her from escaping in the dark as she had done
from the robber captain, and placed in the hand of the
mounted savage, who, leading her animal, set off toward the
Indian village, where they arrived near the close of the follow-
ing day.

Edna was placed in a small lodge prepared for her recep-
tion, and there, tired, hungry and discouraged, she burst into
an agony of tears. She had been driven to the furthest ex- ,
tremity of hope and fear—nature had been overtaxed, and she‘
gave up all future hopes in despair.

Alas, poor Edna!

C H A P T E R I X .
ou'rwxr'rme 'rma: RED-SKINS.

WHEN Henry Eustace returned to‘conscionsness again, be
found that he was being carried along upon a stretcher by
four savages, while in front and behind several others were‘
walkinu‘.

How far they had gone since his capture, and whither they
were taking him, the young hunter was at a loss to knomi
but still feigning unconsciousness, he permitted himself to '_
he carried along by the savages-who seemed to know thuC ,
he was overcome by sheer exhaustion, and who seemed _-
anxious that his life should be preserved for some future
purpose --—let he might riot be subjected to any immediate
hardships while his strength was so greatly reduced. ' . ._

As the shades of night drew near the savages went into 
camp, and not until then did Henry Eustace allow his cap 53 
tors to know that he regained his consciousness. ‘ "

I

O

 

THE TRAPPER VENTRILOQUIST.

A fire was struck and some venison roasted and given
the captive. He ate voraciously, and after he had finished
he felt greatly refreshed, and began to reflect upon his situa-
tion

In the mean time, the savages were holding a council as
to the disposition that should be made of the white man
Some were in favor of immediate execution ;others, of carry-
ing him to the village and there giving him up for public

7 . torture.

The night passed slowly away, and the following morning *
the savages set off with their captive toward the north-west.
Their course lay through a rough, mountainous region of
the Black Hills; consequently, their march was slow and
toilsome.

An hour before sunset they camped upon the banks of
the Sweetwater. Shortly after they were joined by a party
of three savages, the only survivors of the seven upon whom
Old Strategy and Henry Eustace had so gloriously turned the
tables on the night of the storm near Death‘s Valley, and
who readily recognized Henry with a gleam of vengeance in
their eyes.

Another council was now held, and by a majority of
three, Henry Eustace was doomed to die at sunset, by‘ the
scalping-knife and totnahawk.

The captive was taken and bound hand and foot to a large
tree, that stood about two rods from the river-bank, with his
face toward the stream.

The young hunter was too well versed in the nature of
the savage,' to show so much humiliation as to ask for mercy.

‘ Ho know that his petitions would be regarded as a mark of
cowardice, and would only add to the severity of his torture.

Like a brave man he determined to meet his fate without
a murmur, and like a Christian martyr, be commended his soul
at Gull.

. To die at sunset!

. Oh, how he watched the fast-declining sunl Never before
‘ had it shone forth with such radiance as now. and yet its g0-

ing (19w11’was to mark the sunset of his life. Thoughts of the

past, sad and happy, came crowding upon his confused mind.

He thought of his old parents who would watch for his now

 

  

OLD STRATEGY,

ing in vain, and of Edna, and then his heart seemed bursting
with grief.

To die at sunset! -

The minutes were gliding by, and the blood-red orb hung
low upon the horizon. Already the grim executioner with his
gleaming knife stood by Henry’s side with his arms folded
across his throbbing breast, and his eyes fixed motionless upon
the blue mountain-range that would hide the sun from the
view of the captive for the last time on earth.

Fervently Henry prayed to heaven for mercy, anxiously he
gazed up and down the river in hopes of seeing some one that
could succor him—deliver him from a premature death.

As the moment for the execution draws near, the savages
gather around the captive, chanting a wild, weird death-song,
and flourishing their tomahawks frantically about the captive‘s
head.

To die at sunset 1

The moment has come. The sun is down. The executioner
turns and advances toward the captive.

But hark !

Out upon the evening air floats a sound—the sound of a
human voice.

The execution is forgotten for that instant, and all eyes are ,

turned up the river whence came that voice.

Suddenly all are startled, for around an abrupt bend in the
river floats a canoe at the will of the current. In the drifting
craft is seated, or rather lounging, a man, who, with his elbows
resting upon the rim of the canoe, and his chin resting in his
palms, is looking unconsciously out toward the opposite shore,
and is singing in a clear and mournful voice:

“ Down the river. down the river

or ’l‘jme we float,

Down the riVer, down the river
1n Life's frail boat :

At the helm stands an angel,
Wearing a celestial crown,

Sent by (ind to guide our life,
In the current floating down," etc.

Henry Eustace heard the voice, and saw the reclining form
of the boatman with a mingled feeling of joy and fear.

The voice, and what he could see of the man‘s form, he
recognized as Old Strategys There was the undeniable and

/

 

  

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' ,7 TEE ’l'RAPl'ltlt vnx'rnuoquxs'r. 01

 Hmowned spike-cap, the peculiar fitting huntiyg-shirt and yellow
‘ fringed cape of the scout.
In an instant a profound silence fell upon the savages. They
' seized their rifles and crouched low in the tall butlalo-grass,
to wait the near approach of the dreadct “ \Vhite Spirit,"
whose name had already passed from mouth to mouth.

Henry saw the inuninent peril of his friend, and was about in
cry out and warn him of his danger, when a savage, seeming
to define his intention, placed the muzzle of his ritle against
tha captive’s temple, enjoining silence at the risk of having his
brains blown out.

There was no alternative but to obey, but Henry was per-
fectly surprised, even shocked at the carelessness of the scout
11: thus permitting himself to drift into the power of the
savages.

Slowly the canoe drifted on. The form of the boatmau

4 never moves, yet his voice rings out over the water, nearer and
clearer in its life-song, yet no music is there to charm the sav-
age breast.

Suddenly the signal is given for all the savages to fire, and
simultaneous a score of rifles peal out.

Henry closed his eyes to shut out the horrible sight, yet he
could not close his ears to the awful death-groan that came
from the lips of the thoughtless and careless boatman.

For many months past, the greatest object and desire of
every Indian in the region of the Sweetwater, had been to se-
cure the post of honor offered by his tribe to the one that would

’ take, and deliver at the village, the scalp of Old Strategy, or
' White Spirit. And now that he had drifted into their power,
’; and lay dead in his canoe, a desperate struggle or race was
3' made for the prize.
' “1 Leaving Henry without even aguard, every savage plunged
1' excitedly into the river, and struckout for the coveted scalp of
‘95 their enemy.
:' 4 But scarcely had the foremost savage reached the canoe than
f a yell of baffled triumph escaped his lips, for it was not the
. i'lifeless body of the White Spirit that lay therein, but the body
. triof their white chief, Ralph Dickens, disguised in Old Strategy’n
Jdothes. And, to still add to their surprise and horror, 3
, Epocking laugh greeted their ears, and, looking toward the

  

 

OLD STRATEGY,

shore whence it emanated, they beheld Old Strategy, well and
alive, and Henry Eustace free at his side, standing upon the
banl / with their rifles leveled upon 'hem.

D ermined to make still another effort toward the capture
of their terrible enemy, the White Spirit, and the recapture of
the young hunter, they started toward the shore with a yell of
rage, but, at that instant, an unearthly scream seemed to issue
from the water in their very midst. Panic—stricken, they
turned and fled toward the opposite shore—that hideous scream-
ing still continuing in their midst. '

In a moment not a single savage was to be seen, and Old
Strategy and the young hunter were out of danger once
more.

“ I say, Hank, old boy,” the scout said. “ Thet war a clever
trick I played them reds to save yer skulp.”

“Yes, indeed, replied Henry, somewhat agitated. “ But I
must admit that I am at a loss to understand how you accom-
plished your ruse so successfully.”

“ Ha! ha! ha 1" laughed the scout. “ Why, it was all very
easy done. In the fust place, I met yer fricn’ Dickens and
two of‘liis Ingins out here, and arter a few minits hard fi‘tin’,
I ’ceeded in saltin’ the pile down—”

“ You killed Ralph Dickens?” interrupted Henry, with
some emotion.

“ Wal, I guess I did, old boy; couldn’t help it. Done it in r
self-defense ; the devils pitched enter me like Bengal tigers,
and thenI went in outer ’em with a vengeance. Artcr I’d
laid ’em out ter cool, I shuttled on and soon I hearn aloud jab:
berin’ o’ red-skins, and knowed somethin’ war up ; so I slipped
up, and ter my surprise I foun’ out you war a “ cap,” and war

to have yer ha'r lifted. As thar war a’most too many reds to *
make a clash enter, I concluded ter play a trick on 'em, and V ,

draw their attention till I could slip in and give you a li§t.
So back I Went to whar the body 0’ the renegade war and
dragged it down to the river whar I found a canoe. Now, as ,
Dickens war a good-lookin’ chap, I thort as what I mightmase 
him otl‘ as myself, and went to work and dresSed him 11p in
my best cap and shirt, and fixed him .up in the canoe and sent .
it adrift. Then I crept along the bank to see how the charm .

would work, and I found it was a genuine success; the red!

I

 

'rmd mam vnn'muoqms'r. on

. thort they had a soft thing 0’ it, and went like li’tnin’ fu1 the
drowsy boatman. The rest you know. You’re all right, but
my huntin’-shirt and spike-cap—wal, they’re gone, thet’s all."

Henry Eustace was silent for a moment, then he asked:

“ Strategy, have you told me every thing you did in carry-
ing out your ruse upon the red-skins ‘1”

“ Why, lad, my mem’ry‘s good as it ever war,” the scout
replied, avasively.

“ But did you not hear a voice singing when the canoe
was drifting down ?” Henry questioned, with some curiosity.

“ Guess as what I did hear a score 0’ reds singin’ around
a chap ’bont your size."

“ But. did you hear no other ?”

“ Did ymt ?”

“ Yes. I saw the figure in the canoe and I was positive
that it was you, not by the familiar clothes, but by the voice
that came. apparently, from the lips of the boatman engaged
in singing a song that I have heard yaw sing before.”

“ Really! it must haVe bin the voice 0’ the Hidden Spirit,
the same that uttered that horrid scream and frightened the
red-skins away—their evil genius, old boy, their evil genius"?

Henry gazed upon the scout as though he doubted his as-
sertion, for there was something in his language that showed,
plainly enough, that he was evading the direct answer, and
he at once changw the subject, hoping that the future would
reveal the scout‘s secret.

By this time it had grown almost dark. The scout and
the hunter secreted the red-skins’ deserted arms, and then
moved on toward the settlement, which they expected to reach
t're midnight.

Their course now, after leaving the Sweetwater several
miles behind, lay along the Platte river, but, on account of

V young Eustace’s condition, their progress WDS slow and wearb
some. Had a canoe been at their command they could have
moved along much easier and more rapidly, and they would

,not have been exposed to so much hidden danger, for they

I I» had gone but a few miles when they discovered that their

footsteps were being dogged by a party of skulki'ng red-skins,
Who, now and then, they could see gliding, like shadows,
{tom tree to tree. Thus, our friends were compelled to feel

 

  

 

64 om STRATEGY,

,their way with extreme caution, lest they should run into an
‘ ambuscade. ‘

\Vhile the scout and hunter were moving along, the latter
suddenly uttered an exclamation of wonder and surprise,
and pointed toward the southern sky, where he had discov-
ered a dull red light. '

The scout shook his head ominously, for in the glowing
light he read the fate of Ambrose Harper’s cabin, and at once
communicated his fears to Henry.

“ For God’s Sake l" exclaimed the young hunter, “ let no
hurry fin'ward.”

“ Hark I”

At this juncture the light dip of an oar was heard in the
river, and, peering out upon the moonlit stream, they dis.
covered a canoe containing two Indians coming from the op-
posite shore directly toward where they were standing.

“They are going to land,” whispered Henry.

“Good ! and by old Crusoe we’ll charter that craft l"
replied the scout.

The whites crept to the edge of the bank and crouched
down in the grass.

Ina few minutes the savages landed. and, having made
fast their canoe. moved away into the forest.

Our friends waited until their footfalls had died away,

then they arose, stepped down the bank @110 the canoe, and i

in a moment more they were gliding uoiselessly down the
stream in the shadow ot‘ the bank.

Their progress was much faster than on foot: still they
could not ontdistance those shadowy forms that dogged their
steps.

Henry watched the light hefore him with the deepest in-
terest, while the scout plied the ours with the. utmost silence
and energy. V

Suddenly their ears were greeted by a sound resemhling
the click of a gun-lock. The scout ceased rouing and beat
his head in the attitude of listening. But all was silent as
the tomb.

“I snow, I thort I hearn the click 0’ a gun-lock, but I,

guess it war only a touch 0' imagination,” said the scout,
seizing the oars.

    
 

 

 

 

 

 

t l L ‘
THE TRAPPER VEN'I‘RI'LOQL‘IST.

“No, I heard the same noise," replied Ilcnry, “ and it
seemed to Come from that leaning-tree just ahead of us.”

The scout leaned forward and scrutinized the depths of
the foliage but saw nothing, so he drove the canoe forward
again.

“ Nothin’ in that tree, thet I kin see,” the scout said.

Before Henry could reply, the canoe was under the lean-
ing tree, and before it could pass out from its deep shadow,
a hand Was thrust down from the tree before our heroes”,
eyes, and a familiar voice cried out. in a whisper:

“ Halt, dnr, ole friends.”

It was the voice of Seip, the Black Hunter 1

“ Ayl Scip, old boy i” exclaimed the scout, in an undertone,
stendying the canoe, “gone to roost here, ch ‘1’"

“ Hist ! ole ft'ien’ l”'commanded the darkey; “ dar’s‘danger
below. Jis’ look through the foliage and tell dis nigger
what ye can see.” I

The scout and Henry parted the trailing boughs and
glanced down the river, as requested.

“ Wal, I see sotnethin’ down thar, sure as shontin," said
Old Strategy, “ but I guess it’s nuthin’ but some floatin’ brush
or the like.”

“ Dttt’s it. ’zactly l" replied Scip, excitedly, “ and dnr's n
Inging behind ebbery hunch 0’ (lat brush waitin’ fur some-
thing—Jspects as what it‘s yer scalps.” '

“Horrors 0’ Gotham l” exclaimed Old Strategy; “it that’s
the case we’d better haul up here, Hank, old boy."

“ Yes; and be quick, friends, for de debil am to pay to night;
massa Harper’s cebin’s burnt, and de poor young missis is
gone—dc good Lor‘ only knows whar, and dis Chile’s repent.
tion’s done gone." ‘

“ What’s gone with your reputation, Scip ‘2" asked Henry.

“ Oh, good Lor’, massa Hank, de young missus Harper war -
placed under my ’tection and de Ingiugs come in and stun.

. her right out from under my nose.”

“Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Henry Eustace, springing
frOm the canoe upon the log, “let us not tarry here, Strategy—
Edua must be rescued l" t

“Easy, Hank, old boy, easy," exclaimed the scout, rising to
his feet and placing his hand upon Henry’s arm, “ we’ve got to

 

OLD STRATEGY,

give em red-skins the slip before we leave here, or they’ll give
us some trouble You see they‘re ’speetin‘ us down in the
canoe and hev set a trap accordin’ to catch us; and if we
shouldn’t make our appearance below this tree soon. they’d
know to onct thet we‘d made our escape here, and then they‘d
teller us and maybe git us into some ditlikilty.”

“ 1 hope you don’t propose to run the risk of getting away
' l n this canoe, when we can escape from this tree much easier,
do you ?” asked the young hunter.

“ No; but I want to fix a ruse so that we can hold the at-
tention of the red-skins upon the canoe till we ’scape from the
tree.” '

“But how will you do that ?” asked Henry. _

“ I’ll show you in a minute, if you’ll loan me your coat and
hat to dress a wooden man with.” y

“ Of course I will,” said the young hunter, dotting his coat
and hat. “ I can go bare-headed and bare~backed as well as
you, my old friend, if it’s necessary for our gooc .”

Old Strategy took out his knife and cut a hough from the
tree, and setting it upright in the canoe, the brushy end down-
ward, he wrapped Henry’s coat around it, then placed his hat
upon the top, thus completing the figure of a man seated in
the canoe.

Having finished the ruse, old Strategy sprung from the canoe
upon the tree and allowed the craft to float out from under
cover of the foliage and down-stream at the will of the current.

“ Now, boys,” said the scout, “let’s git out 0’ this.” I

So saying the trio took up their weapons, and crawled silently
along the tree until they reached the bank. Then before

moving away they took a glance at their situation.

The canoe with its ruse was still flouting some distance .

Above the concealed Indians, who had not yet discovered the
Jeception of the coat and hat. Finding their way was open
(or a. safe retreat, they at once set ofi‘. As they moved along
the Black Hunter gave his companions an account of his ad-

ventures—of the attack upon Harper‘s settlement, the burning’

of Harper’s cabin, his struggle with the red-skin in the forest
and the silent and mysterious disappearance of Edna. When
he had finished his narration Old Strategy shaped their course
of pursuit accordingly, and then they moved on quickly.

    

 
 

 

 
  

 
   

   
 

 

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V8

’d L "

‘d  _ CHAPTER X.

y  RECKLESS ROLL IN A men.

2', ‘ NIGHT again at the .rohbers’ ranche. Lights are flashing in

the concealed chamber. Words are high, oaths loud and deep.
t- , Clinking glasses, shuffling cards, rattling dice are the sounds
e or the usual pastime of the robber band.

Roland Rashleigh is there, but he takes no part in the
Wicked sport of his men. But with darkened brow, upon
1 jyvhich is written “ defeat,” he paces to and fro across the floor
5 in deEp thought, now and then clinching his fists and grind-
t :ing out a terrible Oath of revenge. ,

l v. ‘ The robbers were too much absorbed in their games and

fliquor, to pay much attention to the trouble of their captain,

x  suddenly, when he halted in the center of the chamber and

~"‘g‘ave vent to a loud oath, all eyes were turned upon him.

i‘ “What now, Captain R311, you are in a stormy mood ?” v ,

‘tfisked Belzy Trott, one of the heroes of the pet bear. '
“ What now 7” hissed the captain. “ Why, the devil’s to pay l”

. ‘ “Hnmph! that's nothin’; you’re allers owin’ his Satanic

 ~Majesty," replied Trott.

' ' “Yes, and it always comes by my tmsting my affairs to such

I -,cowardly louts as you are.”

. < Belzy Trott and Zeke Teters exchanged glances as their

{I'lllnds recurred to their late adventure with Henry Eustace.

J “ Now,” continued the captain, “ I want every mother’s son

,  0f you to prepare yourselves for business tomorrow. I don’t
, "fpropose to trust my affairs in the hands of Ralph Dickens and

‘ , ‘the cowardly red-skins any longer, for, whenever they are

, =.{mr)stly needed, they’re away somewhere else}!

“ But how about the gal, captain ‘3"

g ‘ The robber captain’s brow darkened and his eyes flashed
like living fire. »

,V “ The girl! fury take the wench,” he exclaimed, “ I have had

a“ her in my power since I left here, and she gave me the slip,

9, fiend then stole the horse almost from under me and made her

 
   

 

vr

 
   
   
   
   
   

      
   
   

(.0 OLD srna'mor,

escape. But, I’ll havo her yet if it cost every one of you
lives, and then I’ll take her through a general taming process.
There is one thing certain: we have not got that White-faced ‘ _,
puppy, Henry Eustace, to contend with." , 

“There—there, captain," exclaimed Zeke Teters, “you’re, a
jist as badly mistaken as though you'd burnt your coat: Henry -;' 7
Eustace is not a prisoner, but as free as you are.” 

“ See here, villain l” roared the captain, “ don‘t tritie with 
me or I will .ug your ears right here!” '

“ All right, captain," replied 'l‘etexs, “ but, as true as you're
a born sinner, Henry Eustace is not a prisoner.” ‘

“ How know you that ‘3"

“ Because, Trott and me see’d him.”

“ That's so, captain, by gor it is,” responded Trott. '-

“ Then why didn’t you shoot him down?” , ‘

“ The reward, captain, we thought we‘d git that, so we con- *
eluded to capture him alive—” ' 5f

“ And allowed him to escape—to whip you both l" the cap- f
tain exclaimed, savagely.

“ No, by gor,” replied Teters, “ he escaped, that’s truepbul
if six friendly Ingins and a big pet bear hadn't come to his
rescue, we’d marched him off without ceremony. In fact. We 
come darned nigh lickin‘ Ingins, bear and all, and would, if i'. ‘ 
hadn’t been for Belzy breakin’ his knife in the bears side.”

“ Terrible affair l" sueered the captain. “ I doubt if you even
saw a friendly Indian or a pet hear." I

The two adventurers exchanged significant glances. ,

Throwing himself into a chair, the robber captain swallowed I?»
a glass of brandy, and then turning to one of his men, asked:

“ Stokes, hasn’t Shaky returned from the Swectwater yet ii",

“Not as I’ve seen,” replied Stokes. “ He’s had time, it's a
fact, to be back, but I expect Sherwood’s away somewhere and
he’s waitin’ on him.” ,

" That’s it; waiting is what plays the devil with all my cal-
culations. If all the machinery would work in unison, I
would have no trouble, but when one thing is set going, anothex
has got to stop. ,Hermfter, however, I calculate to dependom
no one, and if there's any loose screws I will know where to ,,
find them. As to Dickens, I shouldn‘t wonder if I have some
trouble with him and his Indians, for I upset his trotteu the

 

mmmnmrmmm.

other night in a very systematiral style, and I presume it will
warm his blood toward me.”

At this juncture the door at the entrance swung open and
the outside guard cried out, in a stentorian voice :

“ A messenger, captain, from the Ingin village."

“ All right. Show him down,” retumed the captain.

The guard closed the door and returned above, and in a
moment more he ushered a stalwart half—breed Indian into the
presence of Captain Rashleigh.

“ Well, Choc,” said the robber captain, addressing the half-
breet , “what news have you for me ?”

“ Good," replied Choc, handing the captain a folded paper.
, Rashleigh opened the message and read:

“ CAPTAIN Rasnmar—I’ve the pleasure of lnformin‘ you thet the

l is in the village and in my power, and if you’ve got a thousand

ollars to pay for that lick you give me t'uther night, besides the rec

ward, you kin hev her; if not, she’ll make a nice ornament for my
lodge. Come tu onc't. RALPH DICKENS.”

“ That is good news,” said the captain, “ but I’ll be hanged '

‘V if that is Dickens‘ handwriting; that’s certain. However, it
must be. That lick he speaks of might have unnerved him,
and I’ll go at once.”

So saying, the robber captain thrust the paper into his
pocket, donned his coat and hat, and in company with the
._ half—breed left the apartment. In a few minutes they were
._ galloping down the mountain road toward the Indian village. '
fl , At daybreak they entered the village. and drawing rein be-
. ’ fore the chief‘s lodge, the robber captain dismounted, and giv-
’ ing his horse into the care of a servant, entered the tent. He
_, ' was somewhat surprised to find Dickens absent, and his place
occupied by his second in power, an Indian chief of some n0—

: 'oriety.

r Upon inquiry Rasleigh found that Dickens was absent, and

 Could not return for several days, but the chief in whose pres-
»; cine he stood had been appointed to make the negotiation
»‘ With him in regard to the captive maiden.

1 The chief soon made known the terms upon which he would
1 give up the captive, and as Rashleigh knew it was useless for
 to attempt to induce the chief to deviate from the one
A“ price, he handed over the required amount in.gold.

This done, Edna Harper, pale and sorrowful, was led into

i l

 

 

70 OLD srm'rnev, “ ’

the presence of the triumphant demon—placed upon the back * .,
of a pony, and carried away toward the robbers’ ranche.

When they were fairly upon the road, Rashleigh began a
tirade of abuse and threats upon the weeping girl, who heeded
not his taunting words, but tried hard to overcome her weak
emotions before her strength should entirely fail. ’

Edna was naturally a brave woman, but her reverses and min- \
fortunes had fallen upon her so suddenly that it required some
time to regain her usual courage and strength. This facti
Rashleigh knew, and in the present case he made every endea-
vor to keep the advantage of her defiant spirit.

About sunset they reached the robbers’ ranche, and giving
the animals into the care of one of his men, the robber captain
conducted his prisoner into the cabin and up into the chamber
where his daughter, Miriam St. Clair, and her child were imf,
prisoned. ’ ‘ ,

“ This will be your home for the present, Miss Harper,” the 3; -'
captain said, leading her into the room,“ and my daughter here  ’ '
will be company for you, and there are books that you can
road. Your meals will be brought up to you, so you need ex;
perience no ttouble nor uneasiness.” ‘

So saying the villain left the room, closing and bolting tho " ‘
door after him, and hastened down to the secret chamber where 
he was welcomed, not only by his comrades, but by Alf Sher-i 
wood, the robber chief of the Sweetwater ranche.

“ So you received the message I sent you, Captain Alf? ‘
said Rashleigh, shaking his friend’s hand warmly. .

“ Message T” repeated Sherwood, “ what message? I ‘re- (
ceived none from you.” . "

“ Didn’t Snaky, my half-breed messenger, deliver a note to

1‘16. gr;

 

 

you from me ?” E ‘ ,
“ No. ‘I have not seen your messenger. I came here with k '._W
7.:t summons from any one." i 

    
 
  

“It’s providential that you did come, for I’ve something of
importance to communicate to you; but I fear some\ trouble ,2
has befallen Snaky, and in case there has, it will stand us in 
hand to keep on our guard should the message he carried fall .
into the hands of our enemies.” I V . ' \

“ Perhaps it would be prudent to send out scouts in search
of your messenger,” Sherwood suggested. ‘

m TRAPPEB VENTEILOQUIST. 71

M

“I! I hear nothing from him between this and morning
I will. But, come with me; I’ve something to say to you pfi.
vately." v

Arm in arm the two robber captains walked to the further
end of the cavem and seated themselves. Rashleigh opened

.. the conversation.

, ‘ 3 “To come right to the point, Alf, the fact is that. I have

Ll  seen Harry St. Clair in tlesh and blood. lIe is in disguise

. and in the immediate vicinity of this ranehe, and has no
doubt got wind of Miriam's being imprisoned here. If so, he
will give me trouble if she remains here much longer, and the
only way to guard against that is for you to marry her and
take her a wry immediately.”

A devilish smile passed over the brutal features of Sherwood
as he replied:

“ You are talking like a sensible man now, Roll; I’ve
been waiting three years to hear you say them few words. and
you may rest assured that I will not let a. moment pass with-

: ‘ out improving it. I am in ady at this moment for the cere-
 ~ mony. nnd—" » '

'I 'IDI'V‘

DOW

 

o m. “ But there is no one here qualified to perform the rites,”
e lurid Captain Rashleigh. r
r.‘  “Couldn't you manufacture a priest or missionary out of
.5 some of your men 1’”
'31 -  “ I could, but then Miriam knows every one of my men, and,
. it. might not prove a healthy wedding for you should she find
3, 3‘; out there were some sham about it.” ‘~
g ’  “ 'l‘lien\I‘ll go after Father Lucas at once. I‘ll be back to-
m  » marrow evening.”
I" “ Good!” exclaimed llushleigh; “and we'll have a doubh
i, . ‘ wedding, old frienc
‘ f1 “ Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Sherwood, “you are a, gay boy t
,f heap" and deserve much of this world‘s good; however i

g. ; v as we mean business, I must not tarry here, so good-night,
in  {Lacaptainf’
, f5 “ Good-night and safe return, Alf."
r "A ~With this short interview—in which they had plotted much
 ‘ evil—the robber captains parted, Shem'ood leaving the ranchn,
3' " "while Rashleigh returned‘ to the room where Edna and bin
Widowed daughter were confined.

 

      

  

OLD STRATEGY.

 

“ He found them engaged in conversation, but when he e5
tered they became silent.
' “ You seem much refreshed, Miss Harper," he said, with a
sinister smile upon his lips. '

“ I forgot my weariness when I saw what it noble companion
I had found in your daughter," Edna replied, with all her old-
lime spirit.

“ I am glad to hear that, Miss Harper,” said the robber
chief, “ and am happy to inform you that tomorrow evening

I shall make you my wife. And you, Miriam, will also he ; ‘
wedded to Alf Sherwood Sherwood just left here to bring ’V I
Father Lucas, the Jesuit missionary, to perform the ceremony; ,’ “
consequently you will both hold yourselves in readiness for the l  ‘
happy event,” and before either of the captives could make a  h
reply, the robber turned and left the room. - w

The moment their perseentor was gone, Miriam sunk
upon her knees and burst into an agony of sorrow. .
u y . y I ‘ . ‘
Oh, my God . so soon. so soon. I can never many that .
villain ; something lelis me that my lmsband lives l” she é;
solihed, her son) overflowing with grief. ' ‘

 

. . u

“ We must not give way to sorrow, Mrs. St. Clair,” Edna c
said, unwillingly; “ it will only add to our wretchedan and " .

trials. There is some mystery about your life which makes ’8‘

l

your burden of sorrow heavier than mine, but try your best. 6.:
dear lady, to overcome your emotions. It is a long timex-g
until to—mortow evening, and if we will go earnestly to work,.‘.})_ h
we may eti‘ect. our escape from here.” i '
" impossible, Miss Harper,” replied Miriam. / _ .
“ Nothing is impossible, Mrs. St. Clair. I have already 
loan a pissihle chance of escape, but it will require strength _  
and silence to accomplish it." i 
"l‘lie face of the \iiilow brightened. It was the first time
in l'onr long, long years that she had heard words of cheer, _
have and encouragement spoken in her ears. and they Fell ._ I
like all upon the troubled waters of her son]. Her long in»
prisonment. had reduced her physical and mental strength t0.
that of a child; consequently, she was quick to gather
and consolation from her mee and beautiful compankin’
kind and encouraging words. " ' 

   
   
   
   
   
  

    

 

in: mm: maximum ' 1‘8

I
a
)3 §
,3_ CHAPTER XI.
mu wmow’s STORY.

9 . . . .
I: ‘ IT was pltchy dark Without, but a bright light ‘ltzruo'
)2 , within the prisoners’ room in the robbers’ ranche. Little,
'm .9 Harry St. Clair had prattled himself to sleep, and his mother
,°_ ’ and Edna were sensed by his bedside conversing in :1. low
V ' I ione with as much fzuniliat‘ity us though they were sisters.
m u ’ n - . ' ' ' .- ,. '
a I \es,Edna, said the Widow, [)OIlllHlf, to hu slmpmg

Tboy, “if it had not been for my child I should have been
lk wicked enough to have taken my own life long ago.”

“ Then your child has been a blessing to you, Mrs. St. Clair,
. though I know not how great ha‘is been your snfiei'ing,”
«'eplied Edna. “For (me so young and sensitive us you,
surely heaven has something hem-t- in More. I know not
' what makes me think so unless it is inspiration; aid your
,child, (learilmly, hits enlisted my attention greatly, {or his‘
" ieyes Mid his features resemble those of Some one that. I have
“ Seen, but where and who I can not remember, and the more
I; r.) 'I try to think, the more my memory becomes mnfused.”

 “ Please, Edna, do out. allow a single thought in my be-
;i . Iinlf to trouble you. But, since you have taken such a deep
» ,gi‘ntevest in my welfare, I shall make known the tumbles of
_‘ iny past life to you, and perhaps it may be of value to one
 both of us hereafter.”

'  “ Yes, dear Mrs. St. Clair, tell me, by all menus. There
'  great consolation sometimes found in telling one our?!
5 ’la‘iais and troubles.” /

I; “ Well, I sludl touch briefly upon the ups imd downs of
‘_ ’my lite, and if at any time I have committal a wrong, in the
'- Dust. -I hope heaven, who has seen {it to :iilliet me, will l'o-r-
: isle lily transgression, and (it. me for a better life. But, to
my story :

hi: “ At a. period beyond my remembrance, I was deprived of
mother's love and care by death, and then I was placed
“rule hands of a widowed lady until I was twelve years old

 

   
   
   
    
 
 
     
 

 
 
 

 

  

OLD STRATEGY

 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  

when my father again took me back to preside over his
household. / a.
“ A short time after my return home, father had a difficulty bi
with a young man named St. Clair, in n h‘ch he fancied him- ht
self grieviously wronged: and swore a terrible vengeance upon
him. But, before he had a chance of retaliation, ‘he was a.‘
g drawn away to California by the great gold excitement, and h
F1 was placed in the care of my widowed foster mother. it
Time passed by and father sent word to me that he never 1
expected to return home again, and instead of sending for a
me, he told me that I would have to shift for myself. Of c
~ course that cruel neglect wounded my young heart seriously, 0
but I eventually overcame the blow and determined to go ll
out into the world and do for myself, since my father had
ordered it to be so. , I
“At the age of eighteen I married Harry St. Clair, the i e
man whom my father hated so bitterly. I loved Harry dearly, t
and since father had written that he would never return to ,' t
F
t
l

":1

the States, I had no fears in marrying even if he did consider
Harry an enemy. But, we had been married scarcely a year '
when I received a letter from my father full of threats and
abuse. He said that before another year passed over my,
head I would be a widow—-that he had sworn that he would l» I
take Harry St. Clair’s life, and he was determined to fulfill
his oath. F
“No one, Edna, knows the fear that preyed upon my
mind during the following year, not. only for the life of my ‘ ,
husband, but the babe that had been given us, for I knew
that my father Was a (lespe'ate man and would not hesitate
to slay my child should his vindictive and revcngcful spirit
lead him to take the life of his father. However, the year
ipassed by and I neither heard nor saw any thing of my heart-
’less parent. In the mean time my husband had offered his
service to the government as a soldier to tight the Indians _‘
that were making the overland trail a trail of blood, and"
was given the commission of a captain of volunteers, and, 
was stationed at Fort Laramie on duty. 

"4

,,r

 
   
     
       
       
   
     
  

I had my young babe to take care of. so I remained at homc‘ :
with_Harry’s mother, and waited and prayed for his return.’

    

   
  
  
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

t ' , ' .
t , t

m TWPER VENTRILOQUIB'I‘. 75
O
hi'l “ Scarcely a month, however, had passed, when I received

I note from Harry—which had been writen by a comrade—
ulty bidding me bring my babe and hasten to the fort, as he had
tim- been wounded in a tight with the red-skins and was not ex-
p012 pected to live. Had I not become SO terrified by the news
was and taken a second thought, it might have served me many
and hours of sorrow; but, as it was, I was deal‘ to all other pm.
her. testations save that of my dying husband, and with little l-larry
‘ver 1 hastened to Independence, in Missouri. Had I waited there
for a few days I might have gone to the tort with a military es.
0f con, but I could not wait, so I set out with a small party of
31y, emigrants, their guide, a. villainous-looking wretch, promising
go to see me safe at Laramie.
tad “ Our journey was a slow and tedious one; however, we

_ pressed on. The evening before the day on which we had
the expected to reach the fort, we camped in a small ravine in
‘ly, the open prairie. Stationing our guide on guard. we retired
to .' to rest at an early hour, hoping to sleep otl‘ our fatigue and
let“ gain strength for the morrow’s journey. But, alas! At the
tar ,. dead hour of night a band of Indians and white men. dressed
nd  land painted as such, dashed in upon us with a terrible yell.
ny  What became of the emigrants Ihave never learned, but 1
id and my child were taken prisoners, and alter sevural days’
ill-’1' .journey we were placed in this very room.

 V “ A few minutes after our deliverance here, to my surprise

        
    

‘5' ' Bud horror, I was confronted by my father. Then I learned
1)’ ' howlhad been deceived. My father was the leader of a
W '1 band of robbers that made their head-quarters here; he had
to ,  learned the whereabouts of my husband, and had written the
‘it letter containing the false news of my husband’s illness. and

 
      

1'  Gucceeded in leading me into his power through the aid of
1‘  Cur guide, who was none other than one of the robber hand,
is '.Se_nt-out expressly to lead us into the snare set by my father.

 
 

“ I begged upon my knees before my father to he released,
“but he only scorned my petitions, and told me he had other
: arrangements for my future life—that I was to be the wife ot‘
 501w Alf Sherwood.

“ ‘ You knew,’ said my father, ‘that I hated St. Clair, and
Without consulting my feelings you married him, and for you)
{Olly you must now suffer the consequence. As to St. Clair

 
      
  
 

 
  
    

 

'76 OLD STRATEGY,
I calculate to wring his heart with sorrow, and then lead it .. 
Into a snare as I did you and fulfill my oath of vengeance.’ ‘ _

“Never until then, Miss Harper, (lid I think my father pos~ .‘i
368591 of the heart of a. demon ; but now I know it From
some reason, I can not think that I am the child of such 8L f -
wretch, and in my heart I disown him as a father. '

“ Two years passed by—two years imprisoned in this room,
Edna—when one day a paper, published in St. Louis, was ,
handed me by my father, in which I read‘ an account of the qur- 
der of Captain Harry St. Clair and several of his men, in the 1‘ I
vicinity of Fort Laramie by the Indians while they were out 3"
upon a scouting expedition. This report was soon confirmed “i’
by my father giving me a. gold ring—which i readin recog-
nized as one I had given my husband before our ,lnnrriugc—
and a likeness of myself, which he said he had obtained of an
Indian who had taken them from Harry’s dead body. It was
all true beyond a doubt. ,.

“ God only knows what I suffered in the next six months
from the effects of this news. I only Wender that I survived
it at all. Since the death of my husband, as a prisoner, I
have been kindly treated. My wants have been amply sup-
plied, and I have become somewhat accustomed or reconciled
to my life of incarceration. In fact my child has been u source
of great consolation, for I never look into his eyes but I
can see the loving and magnanimous soul of his father looking .
from their depths. But oh, my God! it“ I am compelled to
marry Alf Sherwood the old wnuntl will be opened afresh-'—
my sorrow and misery will be tent'old greater 1 In the society
of my child, I would have been willing to spend the remain-
der of my days here, at least until he should have grown to —-. .
manhood, and been able to assist. me.” V

“ Then you have not the reveugeful spirit possessed by your
father, dear lady ?’ said Edna. . 
“No, no;Edna, I could not think of harming a hair of his t 
he“ .n r f

“ Then you are surely not his child, for it’s impossible for
an angel to be the offspring of a demon ; besides, you (let not _
resemble each other in form or feature. And do you have; ' «
think, dear lady, that your husband might possibly be

    
 
  
  
 
 

 

 

living 1’”

 

' g . 'rns TRAPPEB vnnrnmoqms‘r. 77

‘t f “ Yes, Edna; my heart often tells me so, but tL.en when l -
j _ take into consideration all the circumstances connected with
’ his reported murder, there is but little hope left.”

“ It may be the'case, Mrs. St. Clair, but from some reason
it has seemed to me, since I heard your story, that there in
much of sunshine in life for you yet."

“- Oh, you give me courage, Edna, you give the courage I"
the widow sobbed, with the light of hope and joy beaming in
r, ’ her tearful eyes. “ Perhaps heaven has sent you here to lift
 my burden; and oh, if we can only escape from here era to‘
, " morn-ow night, we will be saved t"

J " Edna turned, and walking to the little window looked out.

" ’ l The who.e heavens were overcast with a dark cloud, and away

’ off along the horizon the faint glimmer of electric flushel

were seen, accompanied by the dull rumble of thunder.

‘ “ My dear lady,” said Edna. “ There is not a doubt but

what we can escape if we only determine to do so.

There is a heavy storm coming up which will aid us greatly,

* .thongh We will have to expose ourselves to its fury.”

;\  “Better, far better, die by the will of God, than suffer death

 “ten thousand times at the hands of these robber captains,"

,said the widow, growing strong with hope.

 “ How high is this window from the ground, Mrs. St.

r ‘J Clair?” asked Edna.

T 1 “ About twenty feet, but the great trouble is, that it is

 directly over another window where a man is always kept on
guard."

V, “ This window is our only chance of escape, my dear lady,
 and if we attempt it, probably the storm will prevent our

i» being discovered by the guard. Shall we make the attempt,
  or not 1’” I
“‘3 “ By all means, Edna, though it will be a terrible risk, but
:1 am determined up-m a desperate stroke for my freedom,
7 and I feel fully strong to C:tl'l‘y out my determination."

' ‘ Not n tear dimmed the eyes of the beautiful women—not
pang of sorrow rested upon their hearts now. ‘ They
‘thought only of freedom ; and the firmness of their voices, the
‘fiuahing of their eyes, showed their unwavm‘ing resolve.

‘H No time was lost in making the necessary preparations. A
wnple of woollen blankets were torn into strips, braided and ‘

  
   

 

 

 

 

.

    
  
    
 
   

 

om summer,

   
  
 

  

made into a rope-ladder of sufficient length and strength. . This
labor occupied some two hours, but by the time it was ac-
complished, the storm was howling through the mountain and
around the robbers’ ranche like an enraged demon.

Dropping one end of the rope-ladder out of the window to
the ground, the other end the prisoners made fast to a. beam
overhead. All was now ready for the trying ordeal. _ _

It had been arranged that Edna was to go first and take .3
little Harry as she was the strongest, and when she reachedi ,
the ground Miriam was to follow. , ‘ ‘

The child was aroused from his slumber and made to un- ,
(lei-stand their intentions, and was instructed to keep perfectly _
silent. The little fellow seemed to comprehend the object in’
View and caught up the spirit of the dangerous undertaking \
With all the courage of a little hero.

 A shawl was wrapped around each of their shoulders, and
then in a low and solemn voice, Et na said: ‘

“ We are ready, Miriam l"  f

“ And may Heaven assist us,” breathed the widow. (

Edna turned, and creeping through the small open window, ' ‘ f;
stood out upon the ladder in the heating storm. Miriam was
in the act of handing little Harry out to her, when she heard
Some one ascending the stairs.

“ Spring back, Edna l" cried the widow, “some one is com—
ing up here i”

 

 

Quick as a thought Edna sprung back into the room and . “1
closed the window. Their first attempt had been foiled. “ ‘1‘
In a moment more the ascending footsteth d reached the 5-
door. A key was placed in the lock and turZed, the door :/

swung open, and Beelzebub 'l‘rott staggered into the room in a
beastly state of intoxication.

At first sight of the drunken wretch the women shrunk
back with a cry of horror, but they soon found that he was
as helpless as a child, and a new hope took possession of their
hearts as they mechanically glanced toward the door and saw,
it standing slightly ajar. The women exchanged glances, and
intuitively read each other’s thoughts. _

Trott staggered to the bed, and seating himself upon it, “
placed his hands upon his knees and gazed about the room; »

, with a drunken leer upon his face. ‘

 

 

   
 

 

 

 

; V door upon Trott and placed the key in her pocket.
‘ I ‘cautiously descended the stairs, and crossing the 10wur room,

THE TRAPPEH VENTRILOQUIST. 7“

“ One, two, thr’,” he muttered, “ guess all here; cap’n told
(hie) me come up ‘nd see (hie) that lmdn't’scaped. Guess ye
ain’t ’scaped, (hic) ch? All hero ain't ye——~one—two thr‘ ?
No, by gor, one’s gone (hie), the cap'u said tht" here——can’t
count but one boy aii’l'T-tn'o (hie) \rcniin, an’ cap’n said there
were [111" all togethet‘i— ladies (hie) l‘m Belzo (hie) huh ’i‘rott,
I’m guard t’nite, and drunk, too, but ye can’t (:ome‘t over me."

Miriam, who had Seen Trott drunk helin'e, could not refrain
from smiling at: his ludicrous language, while Edna turned
away with disgust. ‘

“You are in excellent spirits to-night,” said tilt! u-idotv,
aiming to test his senses.

“ Ho! ho! ho l” he laughed, “ eggsellent spirits in me (hie)
--goin’ to be big time t’-morry ; Reckless Roi! goin‘ (hie) to
marry off—cap’n (hie) gay dog—told me to lu-t-p walt'h out—~-
Belzy Trott’s putty (hie) drunk—by gor, this here sol" bet}...
goin’ to look a nap—nil here—one, two, tln"——hurr.xh for
cap'n Roll, he‘s a—”

The wretch did not finish the sentence. The words dim!
upon his lips as he sunk upon the bed and fell into a deep and
drunken sleep.

The prisoners knew that they had nothingr to hair from him,
and since he had informed them in his drunken revelation that
he was the guard (a drunken man never tells a falsehood)
'hey saw their way open for an easy escape.

Since it was getting late, no time was to he lost, in leaving
the place; so, taking little Harry in her arms, Edna led the

‘ way.

Passing out of the room, Miriam bolted and looked the
They now

plunged out into the night and storm.

 

OLD STRATEG Y.

C H A P T E R XII.
'rnE RECOM'PENSE.‘

THE night was a fearful one—black, starlcss and wild.
deafening with rolling thunder and roaring winds that swept
' through the mountain passes and drove the rain furiously inu
the faces of Edna Harper and Miriam St. Clair as they steppexl
from the door of tin robbcrs' ranchc.

Pausing behind a large rock to regain breath, the fugitives
now decided upon the course they should pursue to get. be“-
yond reach of the robbers ere morningr should lead to lhe’dis-
eovery of their escape.

They were about to move away, when their ears were sud‘
deuly greeted by the clatter of liOl'SUa’ hoofs coming up tnu
etony mountain road.

“,Be silent, Edna,” said Miriam ; “ it is only a couple of be-
nighted robbers returning home "

The fugitives crouched down behind the rock and awaited
the movements of the horsemen.

Soon they came wilhin earshot, and Miriam started with
an inward shudder of terror, asshc recognized the voice of
\one of the horsemen to he that 01' Alf Sherwood.

“ I say, Lucas,” she heard him say to his companion, “ it's.
lucky that Inn-t you on your way up here. We can have
the ceremony performed to-night instead of to-morrow night i" .

“ You seem in a devil ot‘ a hurry about that affair,” said
he who was called Father Lucas, the missionary. ‘

“Well, the fact otf it is,” replied Sherwood, “ we are in a
hurry about, my 'chding, for Reckless Roll declared that in
bud Seen llarry St. Clair in flesh and blood a low days ago_ .
Ind you know if he gits wind ’of Miriam’s whereabouts he
might spoil my future prospects." \

Miriam started and would have ultered a cry had not Some
Secret power held her speechless. For a moment her brain
,was in a whirl ; she seemed floating in the air—drifting away.
But, a sharp pea] of thunder suddenly aroused her to cousci ',
ousness. ‘ ‘.

 

 

 
 

 

 

   
 
 

THE TRAPPER VENTBILOQUIST.

“Oh, my God ! can their words be true?" she mentally
uked herself. “ Harry, my husband, alive 1”

Again she bent her car to catch the words of the robbers.

After a few moments’ pause she heard Sherwood’s compun.

7 km say:

“ Yes, St. Clair is an enemy to be feared, if he is alive.”

" thl, he is alive, or Reckless Roll would not be in such
a hurry about my marrying his daughter. Besides, he ha!
got several of his men and a party of Indians beating
around through the Woods in search of him.”

“ It's curious how the report got out about his being dead."

“ Well it did, that‘s certain, and was confirmed by an old
Indian bringing some of his rings and pictures to the rauche
here where they \rcre recognized by his widow.”

4 “Does Reckless Roll think that your marriage with his
daughter will prevent St. Clair from finding her ‘3” t

“ Yes; for I calculate to take her off up to the chctwnter.
You see Roll has been owing me for over five years the little
sum of live thousand dollars. I oth-r to conccl the debt. for
Miriam and one thousand dollars, but the captaiu wanted to
speculate a little and offered his daughter in lieu of the five
thousand. For three years we have been hanging on the dif-
ference, but to-night the captain conns to terms, and gives me
the widow and the thousand dollars."

“But. the widow has it. child; what'll you do with that,
Alf?”

“ Well, if Reckless Hull wants to keep it. “'1’ "M 300‘]:
but if not I will sell it to the A'apahoL-s [Dr H INDY 0" "V0
w-but here we are at the ranchc." ‘

As the robber concluded his remarks. they drew rein before

.the cabin. and distnonnting, hitched their hgrses and entered

'llc t'aliin door.

“ Now is our time, [-2 Ina," said the widow, whose Soul ill.
lobbt-rs' conversation had aroused ton desperatedetermination.

“ Yes," rtplicd EdnaV “ and why not appropriate those rob
bers’ horses; _\ou know all is thir in love and \rar."

‘9 True, Edna, i had not thought of the horses.”

“I Then let us be oti‘."

Without. further conversation the fugitives approached and

i meflfld the horwe.’ -

  

  

82 OLD STRATEGY,

Edm mounted herself upon one of them and then took
litttle Hurry up before her, while Miriam, with some dificu'lty,
mounted the other, a spirited animal.

In a few moments they were riding down the mountain
road, guided only by the lurid glare of the lightning. Their
course lay over a tough, broken country, and it was only by
moving slowly that they could keep the tortuous road at all

The rain had ceased to fall, yet there was every indication
of its bursting forth anew at; any moment.

Hopeful of emerging into an open plain, where their course
would be unobstructed, the fugitives pressed on. _ Presently
they drew rein upon the top of a slight eininenCe, and looking
back along their road, they beheld a number of lights moving
about; in the vicinity of the robbers’ ranche.

‘* Our escape has been discoveret 2" said Edna, “ and they
are searching for us.”

“ Yes," replied Miriam. “ They will miss the horses ulso,
and can easily follow them up by the hoof-prints in the
earth.” '

“Then let us move on," said Edna.
to lose."

So Saying they moved on at a brisk gallop, and after they
had traversed several miles they entered a broad plain. This
was quite a relief, and they at once quiekened their speed.

The storm had cleared away, and in the east the first
streaks of the dawn were visible.

The fugitives had begun to congratulate each otheron their

,nnrrow escape, when, suddenly, the sound of voices Were
hoard approaching from behind.

Glant’ing back they were enabled, by the gray light of the
early dawn, to see several horsemen comingr toward them at
n breakneck speed.

“ My God ! Bdrm, we are lost!"
it Voice ol' despair.

“Not yet, Miriam; not, yet." said Edna, Mit-ourn;j  
“ We will give them a nice for it anyhow. Forward ! Let
your animal have the reins. Ride, ride for your lil'e, (lent
Indy 1” , ’

With increased speed the fugitives' noble animals bounded
w. ay‘ over the plain. ' ‘_ I

“ We have no time

cried Miriam St. Chill, 25‘

 

  

   

_~MH

,9; , -4...‘ . ,5:

   
 
   
 
  
 
 
     
  
  
 

      

       
 

THE TRAPPER VEN'rBILOQUIsu'. 83

I Close behind could be heard the loud voice of Roland

‘ Rashleigh and his men as they came thundering on in pursuit,
shouting at the top of their lungs for the fugitives to bolt, and
threatening them with all manner of punishment when over-
taken.

But, the brave and noble-hearted women heeded not their
threats and commands; they continued to Josh on, speaking
words of cheer to their faithnt animals that seemed to have
caught the determined spirit of their ridets and were exerting ] '
every muscle in their behalf.

Both the women were excellent riders, and, although they
were seated in the robbeis’ saddles, as well as upon their horses,
they found no difficulty in keeping their seats.

The race became one of fearful interest to both pursue"
Lnd pursued. Mile after mile was passed over, and neither
party could see that the other had gained any advantage.

Day burst upon the scene. The sun rose over the eastern
hills. Its warm rays kissed the pnle cheeks of the fugitives
and infused at new life into their almost exhausted bodies.

Still they urged their animals on, yet they noticed that they

, were beginning to full. But, they knew thut the pursuers’
were failing also, for nlreud y, all but two had fallen some dis-
tance in the renr.
Far away at belt of timber rose up before the fugitives.
“ Oh! it" we can only reach that,” cried Miriam, pointing
to the timber. “ We will probably be saved 1” ‘
“We can try to reach it,” said Edna, in an unwavering
voice. “ And them are some hopes of escape, {or the rob— \
bers' horses are beginning to fail. Only your father’s and
mother’s hold their ground.”
\ A Little Hurry, who, during the night, complained of being
~ Vi cold, begun to grow thl‘lll under the ctfeet of the clear morn-
' ing sun, and enjoy his swift riding with childish delight

The rnce \vns l‘nst telling upon the animals of both parties,
with but little :tdvnntnge tlnti guilt in film!" of the fugitives
But the timber was now only it short distance away.

Suddenly a low cry of joy escaped Miriunt’s lips:

“ Look, Edna !" she said, pointing ahead. “There is smoke
curling up among the trees. No doubt a party of bunterg «
or friends, at least, are encamped there." '

 

 
   
       
   
   
    
   

aw mmr,

“ And it may be Indians," said Edna.

“ God forbid E" sobbed the widow.

"' We can hope for the best.”

" Look ! Oh, my God I we are test 1"

A stream with high, perpendicular banks up; cared, baton
them.

4' I It could not be crossed, and the fugitives could not turn/to 7
tithe: side for they were in the apex of an abrupt bend.

Upon the banks of the stream they drew rein with all their
bright hopes crushed to the earth.

A mocking and triumphant laugh that sent a chill through
the hearts of the fugitives, escaped the lips of Roland Rusty
high. /’ ' V

But it was his last. The next instant two rifles on the
opposite side of the stream peeled out like the voice of
doom, and the robber captain and his companion rolled from
their saddles to the ground. The other robbers in the roar
saw the fate of their chief, and, whirling about, beat a hasty
retreat.

In another instant two men emerged from the tzmher,
sprung down the bank, and, crossing,' the stream, approached
the fugitives, who, by this time, had dtsnmunted.

The men were Henry Eustace and Scip, the Black Hunter.

With a cry of joy Edna sprung forward and tell fainting
into the arms of her lover.

“ Edna, my love," he said, kissing her brow. “ You at:
safe."

I The maiden opened her eyes and gazed (lrcnmily about her,
faintly articulating the name of her lover.
' it was some moments before she had fully returned to con.
,scinusnnss and was enabled to stand without support. /
. Her first thoughts were of Miriam. But, Miriam had
walked away some distance alone, and, sitting doun, hunt
into tears.

Edna thought best not to disturb her. _

The Hitlt'k Hunter had passed on to where the bodies of
the fallen robbers lay, and, with the exception of tinle Harry,
the lovers were alone, free to pour words of love and M‘- into
each other's enrs—to enjoy that holy communion of hearts.

, “Poor Miriam! She was thinking of 6ther days—titty!

 

 

 

'rmc 'I‘HA'I'PER vrmmrioqnsr. 8!?

when she had born t‘rcc—tu-artctl and imppyns Edna u'as
now.

“ Oh, heavens!" she subbed. “ What. a terrible Me has
been miuc‘. Cut off in the bloom of life from the joys and

i
n  picasums of this \mrhi by its wicked subjects. 01.! that,
to t- . Harry was :tiive and \muid come to me now i I——"
Her sniiinquy \ras here intermplcd by the sound of Iimt.
it Steps, and, rising to her feet and turning almut, she found her
lelf face to face with OM Strategy, the scout, who had up
a proached from the forest unnoticed by any one.
_ ~' The moment their eyes met, a light nf recognition flashed
in them; Miriam, uttering n jnyfui cry, sprung forward into
_ the outstretched arms of the scout.
’ 1 “ Miriam !"
, .f ' “ Harry i”
 _ Were the only words that escaped their iins, as the lung
7;: ,parted husband and wife gathered each other in ouu fund
I J embrace. -
. ' Oiti Strategy, or Captain Harry St. Ciair, HS we will hen:-
;' .Ifter knnw him, was the first tn speak.
. V. “ Miriam, my angel wife; my days of tuii and search have
’T ' been rewarded.“
 I “And heaven has nnswered my prayers, (it‘fil‘ husband," the
,1. " wife replied.
‘25. , ~ “ Miriam, I knnw ynur suffering has been gmat." ‘
,L. V “ Yes, Harry, for I knew not but that you were dead ; hut

thiS. Harry, is marchihl," said Miriam, turning to itttic Harry,
Who at thisjuncturc joined them.

“ Our chihi, Miriam! my child! my buy !" cried the happy
hither, seizing the child in his arms and pouring it simu'cr of
fond kisses upon him; “my child ! my hny," he rcpt-amt, ‘ {
v; . never expected to hmk upon him ngnin i”

5. t ‘ At this juncture Henry and Edna came up to learn the
“ Cause of an much excitement, and were introduce] tn the
happy pair in their true names and relation to cnch other.

“ 0h, Miriam i” exclaimed Edna. “ I am so gind to see
you so hnppy.”

\“ And to ynu, my dear girl, I owe much of my hnppitwss,"
reiniicd Mrs. St. Clair. “Had it not been for your help and
filwumgament, I would never have 'cscaped from my prison."

 

   
 
 
 

 

  

    
 

80 our STRATEGY.

‘ “I say, captain,” said Henry Eustace, addressing his old
friend, the scout, ” your disguise has been a complete success.
I heard much about the death of Captain St. Clair, and never
heard it denied beyond a doubt. And new. if you will allow
me to ask questions—”

‘ Certainly, certainly," replied St. Clair.

“ Well, what was your object in disguising yourself so long ?” I

“ I will tell you. About the timedhat my wife had fallen
mo the power of Roland Rashleigh. I received a letter from
Vltim through the hands of an Indian. In that letter he in-
formed me that he had at last wreaked vengeance on me for
a past wrong—that he had carried my wife and child away
where I should never see them again, and informed me how
he had led them into his power. He said he felt perfectly
safe in telling me as much, for he was beyond the power and
rigor of the law. From that I knew he was a niail-rohber,
hiding away in the mountain-fastnesses from whence an
army could not rout them, and I knew that my wife was
there, also, but. where, it would probably take me years to
find out. Nevertheless, I determined to make the trial, and
in order to get. away from my friends and throw Rashleigh
ofl‘ his guard, I had the report started that I had been mur-
dered by the Indians. The story was afterward confirmed
by an old Indian finding a gold ring and likeness of my wife ‘
which I had accidentally lost. I had not intended that the

' report should reach the ears of my wife, but. it did, and how

no doubt cost her many hours of sorrow.
“Plunging into the mountain forest in the garb of a hunter,

A and changing my voice and manner of speech as you have

known me heretofore, I began the search for my wife, and ‘

" after four years my labors have been rewarded.”

L.

   
         
   
   

,At this instant, Scip, the Black Hunter, came running up

to where our friends were, and informed them that the roh- ; ' ‘

her captain was not dead, and wished to speak to Miriam be- '
fore he died-—-he had a secret to tell her. '

Miriam and her husband hastened to when: the dying
wretch lay. He had been shot through the left lungLand
life was so far gone that he could scarcely speak above a
whisper. «

w

 

 “Miriam.” he said, “ retribution has overtaken me at \

 

last.
that 1r
marri:
you \l
God i
to m(
- .let m
hatter
heart
at H
‘ ll

5 ' brot
 i win
;. The

r V
‘ rob‘
, w
  halt
I bar
 per

 [ht
. '3'

0

THE TnAeeEa \‘ex'riuLOQstr. ' 87 .’ a

old last. I am glad that yon litlt'e found your husband. I knew
regs, that. he was alive, and that is why I wished to hurry rout
we! 'marriage with Sherwood. Had you not made yourescape
low you would now be his unlawful will: and Edna Harper mine.
God isjust. Miriam, you have always been a dutit’ul child
to me, but I have been a demon instead of a father. But

:?” ' - .let me tell yer. i am not your father. Your Father was a

on better man than I am. In your infancy 1 had the wicked ‘
mi . heart to steal you from your cradle. Your true father lives

in- ‘9 at Harper’s settlement.

'0!» ~ ‘ His name is Eugene Eustaee. Henry Eustace is your

'13; ,‘ 'vbrother. This secret is true, us] call upon heaven to bear,

W .' Witness. I ask not your" fin'girenesa, l'or I do not (it‘St‘t‘VC it;

ly _ There is no hopes for my wicked Soul—J am lost—iost—J’

(l '  \Vith the last word, the spirit oi" Roland ltnshleigh. the

r, robber captain, fled to the judgment bar of God.

ll  \Vith tears of sorrow and joy in her eyes, Miriam turned

3 iflfiide to embrace her newtmmd hrnther. At last that little 4
) band of sufl'erers felt that the toil was over ntnl the rectan-

l  Dense won.

> After burying the two dead robbers, our li‘iends caught up
the riderless horses that were grazing near, and set nfi‘ tor
_\ ' ~Harpei’s settlement, where they arrived after two days’ journey.
57‘ Another happy meeting new took place—meeting of parents
‘ 17-" and children who had Stlifcretl'ull the persecutions of a frontier
“  life. ‘
1- t As to the slight mystery connected with the voice of the

_" ‘c rHidden Spirit, it can be explained in a few words, if the

 “cader has not already guessed the truth. Old Strategy was
‘ ‘  3 Capital ventriloquist, and had thrown his voice in places
’  Wheredt was impossible for a human being to exist, thereby
>1 Wiriking terror to the hearts of the superstitious red-shins, and
' "  Int. a few times puzzling his white eotnpaniom, as we have seen.
 ' laptain St. Clair hall one more trip to make to the Blurlc
""»_1iills. It was to get his faithful “ old dog.’ Sagacity, who

' .' PYOVed as faithful a companion to little Harry in his—the dog‘s .\
 ‘. "fold age, as he had to his master 3h his better days.
-. It was some time before Captain Hairy could leave off his
« ,’Mkwoo<h brog'ue, and on more than one occasion he wan
V mildly reprimanded for calling his wife “ Miriam, old boy.”

 

 

 

   

 

 

    

88 om STRATEGY.

The captain and his family remained at the settlement nut“
after Henry’s and Edna‘s wedding, and then they returned to
their old home in the East, when: they still reside in the midst
of a great circle of friends.

Henry and Edna have a pleasant home in the West, and are
\im happy parents of several bright-eyed girls and boys. ,

Ambrose Harper resides with his daughter, and is getting f
quite old. ’

Scip, the Black Hunter, slill resides at the seulement, and it
looking forward to a happy life in the kingdom come.

And now, dear reader, our story is ended. I hope the mo-
, moms I have spent With you have been pleasantly occupied.

md that I may hear you sa ': '

“ Come again.”

 

 

 

 

 

Young Pegple’g Hand~Books

Th. Dhnl Hand-Boob for Young Pawn]. no": I wldc rIn o of I h'ocu
dayted Io thfllr md. 1‘th tannin-u It oln tho clmpnt qud “I. 1.“)... £021 :Y:l?r;:|h:n3
buy the xluflkm for poynlur ‘ilcuhfinn. Rum volnmu H)" m .n "mm, "Hypo-I lid on 'rvc-‘Iil
cl prlu. Dy 1h puulJn-vm BEADLE AN!) AllAMS, 93 William Strut, NI- Volt

No. 1. —DIME GENTB’ LETTER-WRITER,

And PrIMchl Guido :o Compnniom amhrwn: lurml, mmleh, nuggen'wm Iml "do. {hr m. ul-
ol u“ chutes. un :-ll «cation; to] lmpvnpvr worth xmd exprulmm. ugnlnur I itl, lbrl‘
nan-m4. furmw: Ind Ibo I cvuuple :cliaruy of motion, plum-Janus», m. BI Lowa Lo
oIINb, .\l. D.

 

   

“NTINT‘I
COMPOSITION. —Tl:o "fut of a good Ian-r;1 n ollmra; “mum-Ital)“ Mun-mu: nun
‘lrfl'liunl was novice; Nu wk: of wmpoai- to parenn, iI-(nnnlluz 0| th‘n m: on.
m. m. | LETTERS 'u‘ RELATIONSHIP. l‘mnilv ‘.
\F; «I, ADVICE TOLETTER.‘VRITERS. n pundvnce: iu “mu mum-Le In pmpr
" l'r (5 0|: llll<l\’l12\’$. ‘
HERB OF PLEASURE AND FRIEND-

exnu- .lu m 1M7 1: IrrI. err

LETTERS ( F VARIOUS UCCASIUNK .
mum-m 0f rlmmcxrr: Inolbnr, In] I nml

pplicumn L-r a mum.-

   

 

DI l l'.
,‘l'TEPS 0F DOVE—Him. Ind nuggnuinnu; Inolhu, (or a clerk ~
I xl'clInumn‘ Ixuwx I lnrizlor dulurufiion uncher'. pIIco ; u rinngI val. fletiinlng
of unm-hmvnl; mum-r; nu] lmI-l-Hem o I nuninntlon: I girl Ayplyin: 10 pl. .. .
"NIH-Ill plmnnzal, ac. , n1l.u:Ipplicntion furngm-um-u' I Iulfln.‘
.lTThRS 0F DU'I‘YJH' TRUST,ETe.—“'hlll WRITINH FOR THE PRESS.
they are and how lo w ‘lu Hum; lunnn. Mr. fl IMI‘RIII‘KXZTIES 0F EXPRESSION,
Idv'ml from I lIdy to h" flirml; I mmplIiul-l PHRASKS, .‘lOT'l'UBh, IDXOMS, EN

No. 2.—DIME 300K OF ETIC’IUETTE.

Mn Lallu nml GIIullcuun; main: :1 guida In true zemillsv and an d-brndlnu‘ um! I ample" M
' ry In In: unan mm observance» of Ind-Ly. Mahdi"; uiqunu c-f the lull-Mum, “I IN
2 min: l'nrty‘ 1h: Mum-v l'Irly, um Cu-d Iml Chm Tuhln, or Hm'meu, n! In. Home (In-1|».
w", etc. Pray-rad prreul] fur the " Dim: Seriel, ’ by I Lommiuce at Tbrn.

alfll‘NTio

‘KT'fl/‘NCE INTO S()CXI‘TFY.—"OImlfr‘ncr v1. UN CONVERSATION.—ln ulefulner Ind [Ml
nuhl’ulmu; kindnus v .ruduumu: the harem ruulu; how to cvmpon yum-ell: dlrocllum

lumen. hnw m H at them. fur 3L

[7.x DR!I AND ()RNAUICNTS. -Tha vul~1 ON LETTER AND NOTE WRITING.— Pro
n>.|\'nr“"1l>hn attire; IlnH-Htily ln drul I pflfillfll Ind imlymprivllel n( mg “mg; zinc
mask of gm-d lrmwlinu. Mi directions fur a good ham-r.

UV VLJIT". INTRODUCTIONS. Evc —’Tho- "0W TO (GIVE AND HEFElVE INVITA-
law or polileueu I luv! .u kindnpu; wlmul 'l'lI)N§‘.—Gvnvml HIM-e in .m mun.

7' ll: an propcr; immducllana, prmulnutiurxnn.j O\' F IEHTAlNMEVTS.——Exiquenu 17' lb!

      

 

 

  
 

onc..nml rnrluL mbln how to In" I Inn-find how to N
EVENING PARTIES, DANCES, ETC."ThE el-l nervell; Ipe:IIl (firm-Hum.

lqnultu nl lyhe ballvro-un; gown] nllr'znlunr 03‘ PERSONAL CLEANLINBSR—A Imn‘ a

{or Hm anmo. the laborer; o‘- rcliginn Ind aspect fur ~F_
BAME‘ 01" CARDS, CHE‘S, Ere.~Wlun pro- on thank". pmmm (In. an»; on lure, Fur" b

Im- Ind Low can-(Loud; zcncnd rules of thol Ihinnndmnrrin-Je; [he lmuvflmma “hum.

“Inn; iho inbreeding uf fining or brIg— special mlrira to] dial; guncml Obi-1' hal-

(lug. , Ind cluling clupler.

No. 3.~DIME BOOK OF VERSES.
Eamprlsing th-nn Linc: nnd Mann", tor Law-n mud Frlendl: anvminr-I. Album Heron, GI
'v'enei, Birthday Linn, Ind pcflry fur “Tidall' UlnhlI Mourning, KPH-phi, m.

COHHVT".
EPl’l‘ PHSANDMOURZ‘IING VERSES. VI
all M nnd clnnr.
THE LOVER'S CA5“
(I This little, 'nlmnr ll Iveflluhle rub-l r" J
‘ (N fllRl‘H-‘u AND IN ‘. punitm. It in averyhudy’a yum. Iil IN 5'
'7") SE‘ D “’ITH FLOW .. ». bevnulunn. for old and ymng, In! Ith we I
‘ H V ND AFFECTIOS. male. I! will ha Inn-mud “HI I in”
i and used like I llictionnry.

5‘

Na 4. — DIME BOOK OF DREAMS.

mu Antillan Ind Mystery with J rmnplrl- inn-rpn-Iing leinnnry. Compllcd mm: d ..- 1

trvdiud Iourrnn .‘n! [M ‘ Dlme Sena."

OIINTINTH.

I" FMDUITTOEY. . I -F1\‘nrlnz Vhe Illwrnnhlul II" n n!dn~.r|

THE RUM I VCR or DREAMS.- imhml'fing‘ mu. :1 hrlw! in ‘heir rvv-‘l-I‘ir-t I
'1'“ l kin-II nn:l Ch'flnl‘leYL wilh tlw‘ DICTIONHIYOP DRE ‘ ~Cmmvrlvw‘vm
~' vucuou yin-d upon mam by Lhunnn mu mth nmupwo inlvvpynmiqn ‘19:”an ‘ w
‘uu-m ‘Hllhurilhq, mnl nnnalivn 0f the um pv»pnr.~d, mmrnclng the whole Al mm .
Muiuwn‘ (ulflllmml m "Iv-"I. “Ilhiw'lh.

I‘m: PHENoMENA or DREA\]5.-A phni - (if h In a vulume 'u'l of menu mu u a.

.inn’l vluvl on th' whim-I. zlvimvl nub J z‘epemll‘gm‘lwer. lifinz. \nfllggbzou:1,vgn
z-mg I , rI. 17m» ‘ v a

w'mlm 0! 1h nrnnma . w H: m-Innru m
y ' y, "I Y A arm.“ ad W" n quj‘?‘ ‘h o
In”.

  

VERSES FOR ALBUMF.

MOTTOES AN D COUPLER”

5T, VALEN l'lN'l‘l VERfiKw‘.

SRID A L A ND “ARR! AGE \‘ERS‘SISY
"R" .

 

  

    
 

 

 

  

>
7

 

   

 

   

 

 

Ii :I mun. ’
~ ram‘mnl: C ans‘u TESTHIQXV I ' wh- nmnm a! An w

 

Young People’l Hand-Boob.

 

No. 5.-DIHE FORTUNE-TELLEB.

.mPl-lllfli TH‘ ART 0! FURTUNI‘TILLING IOW 1'" IIAD Cllnm m
;

CON'IKNTI.
“NRC-TEK.LIN(; BY CARDS.-—D~I\ling! BY MEANS OF CABALIST‘C CAI-GU“
Hi- Cad. by Threw, Dialing In. Curd. 113i TIONS.
Bovcnl, Duhng (be Cur-is hy Fifloem, The] PALMI H ‘1 OR TELLING FORTUNE 5‘
Twutv-ouu (11min, The Luiiun Meliwd, Pm~i THE L J'” THE HAND.
lent, "an and ann, Anvlhel Method of FUK‘I‘UN . .l.l.ii\G BY TUEGROUNDSIN

Conwitin: “H (Tunis. To Know if ynu will A TEA 0R (JUI’Fi-‘i'. CUP.
Us: ynur \Vilh, The Engiilh Melimd of Cun- HOW TO. READ 3 UR FORTUNE BIT”
mi in the Cnnll. \YHIT" 1)!“ AN H-G. _

ENC 0 TELL A PEidON’S CHARACTER DREAMS A VD THEIR XNTERFRETA“

No. 6.-—DIME LADIES’ LETTER-WRITER.

with; die vatiuuu form: of Lucien u! Sihubl Dlyl, Love'und Fri" dsiiip, :1 Society, can.
ri‘NTIJ

.mv To WRITE AM) How NOT do WRITING FOR THE PRESS,
WRITE. ' ‘umzs rm Si'EL1.i.'G.
now To PUNCTUATE.CAPIFAL1ZE. Err. PROVEKHS MUM SIIAKSFEARI‘.
Lia. "i ms 011 cmwuwv. I’OETIC QUOTA'i‘iUN. .
LETTERS (IFSCHOULDAYS. worms ALIKi-J IN sucxn‘isu'r Dmn
LE'HERS rm FRXENUSHIP. [ ENT [N MEANING A N D SPELLING,
LETTERS 0F (7051”us AND LOVE. r EXPLANATION OF THE MOST common
LETTERS 0F socmr 1‘ ; mvn n'noss IS- A 1inva ATM» s ox: wmms.
nous- ‘ 1 FRENCH QUOTATIONS AND PHRAsu.
smNNl worms AND PHRASES.
I li‘ALIAN worms AND PHRASE.

No. 7.-Dth.‘ LOVEBS’ CASKET.

‘ Tmm. “d and. go Frimjgmp, Luvz, Courtship nmi Marriage. Enibncing Iltt ‘ mpifi
1" Mai Dictiuunry. etc.

cuhraxn.

“ENDSHIP.—in Peminthv, Be‘ (non Mani oi Harri-gee, The 'xmnusan, Pram“ ‘30..
And Wmnun, (ii-1a (,‘uxnmuniov fr-iper, LeL‘I uuu. The Bridumnidn.’1'he Bridegnom’m.
km, A \\'nrnm|g. Exulien: AuVi¢E, A l’l‘ixnu- ‘hu Bride, The Brixlvgromn, [he CGY‘NICIM'
1mm, Alluw Ilu imprupa mun...“ Sper'izil‘ Aim the Ceremony, The Wedding Bnnkrm,
to YuuuK Man, Sumuliing bo Amid, Liniinn-‘ “ ('nru’s ” or " Nu Cnrdn,“ Nate: Coup-n.1-
tries, Giiu, [sonata u! Love, Corral-undqu I lnrv. .

mvu—Tnu Dawn of Love, Lam’s Seurulh AFTER MARRIAGF —Somothing to be Ru.
mu, Callfilll‘lltefl, The Fim Conn: mllnu Twice. ’i‘w give Gui :n Liftbhximl, A T."

- I ‘ Wu ‘, A Wmnnn’l Wu“. ,n-l “ilh iiiu l’nnmrriwi.
(.4 of ,nvn by \\'umhnI Unwur-l MIS'CI'ILLANEUUS.—Launlp d the Hun!-
llw Ulijccu .ni‘ Mun”: L vc, How u- Avuid kcrcliiuf, LnnL'u n of the in. 1m in- 1
“mm”. I Hi..- L‘nue, Lump of Finger Rinp, ’e n.

NNJIU‘SHH’. mTi-e Dnnr [\jnr. Diselinwpd,fi‘v-' Anniwrnnriuzu \‘11. 'i he ' .
clglll: an aim: «g:- is Is lvrnper. ' “Md?” “Vc'i'nhfl- Ti" we )1 Crud
nut in he [in inn-Mi, Ti." “‘00in Time, '1 hi “'vdiiinl‘h) ir+=n Wedding, Silva! Weddiug‘
Prnpoani, Abkinq I'fllu . The Rigim n! r I‘n-I (.‘nl.I.-r mid nxr- ‘
nut. Exiguzefl. i‘rnpnml Rejueied, Brimking mfi THE LANGUAGE 0F FLOWERS.-—fl.m a
An EHENRPIHQI'L v if" file Yucnbulnry. Tin Vocabulny, p

“RRIAGl-L - 1'“. Proper Timc. Vanmu furnu’ Flam-rm, The Vowbuinry. IL-Srmému. w

No. 8.— mm: BALLROOM COMPANION.

“- iyL-‘nk in Dunn; Giving Ruin n' Fliqurlh’. llinu on P-ivnbu Purliu, roh‘vz: n
lan [AI-III, nus.
NWTEATI.

mqmm --Arun¢emrrm. anuw Prini v- SQUAfiK DARK P‘s—Wain Q! admin 0‘ Jan _

1hr hair r n hunting Aanmcm, Musk. Ru Qnmirilih The Nim- Pin, Th» i,~nn;4:n 'Tm

:iubmrvil. hidin’ Tolls”. (Smith-nun)» (‘almiwnieum Thl‘ Printv ilnporml. Tim, \:3

1mm. Tim Guam. griivin “PP” Thr Spnni-h Dunn, Ln Telugu-i
MASQT’ENA DFS. ROUND DANCER -Tim “Will: a Trifl- Ten
PROMENA DE CONCERTS. “'11!” in DK .ihiu Thu», \‘hiinriun or Mason; ‘
SOCIARLE‘S. W'ultz, "I'M Scimniurim, Th9 Pnlknflhv Gnu-Ir.
ORDER OF DANCING. Rvdn vn. Pnlkn ernwn, Elmeroiiiq Dania ‘
OFFICIAL RULES 0|" CONDUC f'. “nikn. The Vnnovinlm.

~('“I'twoo book: In for nio h I u] l-rflOflL-l: m vi.i be lent, poulpnm, .0 any Inch-n10:

‘ M n '
“m 'm‘ "'3'" "n" ” B'E‘DLE Ayn nuns. rum ; v
u wmu- 9M )4.er '

 

FAMILY HAND;BOOKS.

The Dime Family Serial (1403.1 to 5 inclulive) nim to supply it sinus of taxi-linnka and mnnnnll
flllnll (o- every person’s nae—tin: ()lll nnd line young, the lcnrned uml le unlanrned. They are a!
unneeded anue. Ench volume 100 Pumas, 121110., hunt pugqmni on receipt or price by tho publish-
"I, BEESLE AND ADAMS, 95 W illinnl Sinai-L, Nuw \ urk.

No. 1.-DIME COOK BOOK;
0:, tliu lionnewiie‘a Porkct Cmnpnninn. Embmlylng wlnil ls Imut )nmniC,moanrnclic:il,mefl

Excellent. Revised uni aulnrgcd mliliun. 100 mu mum. By Mm- “cm.

nuiucrs nun: cos-mus;

FREAD.—I’omto, Brown, Bran, Wilmer, Rye and lmlinn,  lnmi nnil Rye, Milk, Rising, Butter.
milk Brand, Brurni liiscnii nr Rolls Fruncli Rolls, Sodn Ilium”, etc. etc.

HUT “READ AND CAKES ‘smm, Corn, Jnlumy, Apple Julmuy, Griddle, Rirh Human,

‘uckwlumt, Rice Griddle, Curn (xriniilla, nud Tomntu Griddlc (likes, BulmocL, “11111.25, Mulliim,

'8 Frinm. Ryu Fritters, (elm, me.

TiILR. BREAKFASI‘ Insurrs.—Tonn,nry Tom, Buttered Tmut, Milk Tum, inn-.1 nné
"Wm ‘ ml)led. Punched nnd Builuil Eggs, Vi humu urns, innumy, 5 mp, may Pudding.
“mutiny, Bailing, Frving; uixwuu vnrlnusmntliudx lnrlrrqi in); mum.

Iinilu-l ‘3 ,rl, lax-35,1 Chaps, Veal l‘iu, Leg of You), Loin ol \ en), Snonidur 01‘ Veal, Cnivua‘
:_ rm 11.2.1.1 mm Liver.
' ‘U\' ,\lul.l.nu Chops, Chaps n Buefshmkn, Neck m‘ Multan, Shoulder of )intion, Leg 0!
null nr Mum", Sudan of mu, Mum“ Clllll'l-V'1ll’l5l‘l sn-w, m; or anI-, utr.

. 'k milks, To Fry Park, in; 1mm l’urk,Spnre 1:51.: n1 Park. 1'.) 15qu n llnm, my.
I‘m”; Sumo, lleml Chums, l' w Snnsngus, l‘icklu for llmns, Falling l'nrli, To Melt. Lnrll.

POULI‘RY AND GM 4mm nnd llnilml Turkey, In“: and 1mm ammo, Ducks, 1mm
Vuwl, (:hnkm Boiled, Fmv lirnilmlflrn ivrnnmu a Fowl, Chiclwn I’im '1‘” Wk Pia-Inns. etc-

Fl‘ili. —'l'n Fry Fresh Fish or Eels, liiikml Slimi, ’l'u Urnil Fruah ll‘iell, Fresh Codiinh, Snl‘ Cod
hi1, Umliiuli Bulls, Stewed 0) rs, Friml ()ysh'rs, l'it'kled ()yx'lors, (Ihnwtlnr.

NICE liRlCAKk AG'I' DIS! Frank Meat, Griiltllct, Clnm (l'l‘llllllkN, Oyster l‘nnmlws, Fla
Salli. Umlliuh Trust, Ri linlls, ll‘lllvd Multwn llend Cheese, A New Ila-atlas! Dink.

sows ' lli, Pen, Bonn, Split Pain and Barley, \‘ugulnblu nnd llice,’1‘umnto.
wanly lilfi'eram vuricl’ofl.

Cn,m]r fur Fish, Egg, l’luin Butter, Cranberry, Appl‘, Sweat.
ma, ('4- ery.

\vunti'vllva dill'rrunl vnrielics-

.#(;lirislnnu Plum Pudding, \ud eighteen oily r Help",

l‘nnr rel iincs.
CHOCUI '\'l

'4

 

 

 

 

    
 

  

   

   

 

 

   

    
    
  
 
 
  
       

—Elglil rocipns.

. Yuny-nne rrl'l ms.

l'u l il'klI! \ mum kinds of Vegdtublci and Full).
kt it,

  
 

3 illow tn ll
_ A l) ()Tlli‘l -FlSlL .

l'llE (7 \RVER‘S 3 NUAL.«I£unvml directions for Cnrving.

MISCELLANEOUS. —Clncken .mul Plum Pudding, l’nmtn Mullins, Um? thuil, 0th, “a.

No. 2.—DIME RECIPE 300K:

I Umnpnnion to tho Dime Cook lioolv. A nlrucwry {or the l’nrlor, Magi-fly Sick Roam, Talia
Kile!" A, Lurilcr, are. Reviswl llllll «ninrgull i-nlitiou- H)- 3‘ Victor.
EXI‘KAC"S FRHM C(m’TENTfl.
u—TH clmnw Carynls, i)lre\tions for Cnrpuls, To tlenn Turkey Carpets, Moll II
at ()il n: Spernnlmli from Curliets, am, To innke Sinir‘UlIerlS lxul.‘ (‘liunp (‘nrv
nah, m :m'cep Cnrpels, lluuau Clenning, tn f‘luun Imukingrglnsw‘, (hi l\inlil 1-
, Tn gin-nerve Gildili: nnd ulenu ii, To Inks Stains cut of Mnlmgnny, lo 'clcnn l
rhln, Lmnp, l‘llill, "'0 "Ullfill Mnholznny,’l‘o rclnuvu “rerun: iron: liuulis, l0 prurnni
’l‘.) clenn Silver-plnlwl CM) llosliclis, ’l‘n rclnm'u llnnt, Ilu‘.

'l‘lllC VURSERY AND Sltfh RUL , 1.7-ClLllliliiL' 01' lni’nuu, \an‘lxw Suddenly, Refill-.1 was M
3 01' infants, 'l‘wtliing, unlinn, \Vnrml in ( lvalI,

Nix'llt,0nnt‘uenl for Scurf In the llel_ ‘ ‘ ) _ x I
About. l'liil‘lrau, Hair. Cliilulrnn, limping Cuuzli, Dynentery, M A. lievar, lmrnl bore l‘hrnnt,
“cm A Curl! for Bun aids, Body in Flames, u! isnvuuly morn i‘lél‘iiu‘Ll.‘

150i“) WM: THE SIG .—v:\ Sl‘rnngllwning Jolly l’ur lil\'llll4l§, )llliiltvll (iislnlwl for lluwt‘l (‘mn

\lnls ur Cnnsnunlili'u Curses, Uhirken, liver. elm. Toast “Ulcer. Ricu_.lully. .Brullll Jelly, ('nlu-s"

\et. Broth, Pnumla, Buol’ an Wine Wlwy, \VnLex Gruel, Milk i’urrnlgzc, lhcc Grnel, Mrdhulu’

inn 5;, I . ‘

'Flll<l FOILET; THE l‘l,\lR.~——'l‘o remove Dlvml‘ruiIhA Cll‘lliilil I’nmmh,Tvnggs' Receipt {c
A. H in, liunduline {or the Hair, linir~cniling quillrl,'01l 1,1 unstifl. ‘ V

Tm: l‘r jl'l[.—'I‘u clean Ilia Tvelh nmi Gliilu,Qu|n|ne'lWilli inwdcrflrepnreii (/lmrcoul.Peiu
Clan 6n- l’mvllcr. Houmopnlhic Clinlk, (.‘nilln l’ilh lirliwlllfir, L'p bnlvr. '
' u. ‘\.\'D\‘,~'l'n remnve Stains from the Hnnils, lo unprovn tliu Hands and AHIN, Ointmeni
Gor in.- H nun, (:lmmml Hands. 7

Tllr] C1)\ll’LE,\'lHN.~Tn I‘Y"§(‘|’\'l‘ 1:. V»

Icclilet l’llllllllfs, K: lnr l‘nr Unnipluxlnn. ’

QUsH 'l'lbb', l’lfilll’ 'MES, ETC.-«Fncd l’owxlar, Pearl 1
manly ml-r- r-ci I s. ' .

CAI-{PL 1H; C‘l‘l ! filING.—Furs, “'nolcn, Silk, Gloi'cs,ll1l.vbanr, Lace, ,R‘nnnola, old." _ ’I

THE l{i'I‘(,‘llE.\'.—-"l‘o c in Fruir, l’curs, Quint-es, Berries, l‘ona, livllllfl, iomncnus, [1‘06 ' Corn, no
Pregame rrnit Jelllea iruxn Maid, ‘l'u prevail “ Grainiug," and seventy-five more rimth.

llELANL-‘E. ‘

gl)\\' ‘1‘) RI ARE BUTTER AND CHEESE.

RUCE‘S 0i" “'IN' MAKING. _ ,

MISCELLAN EOU To mend Cliinn. T’ :et rid of Backup and Cockvulues, lo mm Lab

2-9 mmul'ncsuru Cmdl”. To nth Broken; Gian. u i a hundred no" useful melon-

 

 

TIIE PUNK,
Curpab, '1' y e'
in, To mull
.- mmin
Orliivfignls: ,‘
Mulul in Unglu, Paste, lnk, llihl VLanlior.

 

 
    
  

 

  

 
   
   

 

nah for a Blotclied Fun), To rumova Sunburn, lilutc'nel,

 

uwdel‘, Rawlnnii'a Marxism! 0i}, and

 

  

 

Dime Family Hand-Books.
No. 3.-DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN,

‘ud Mnnnul for the Sick Rnom. WiLli Fumilv Dis-:m-us and their 'l'rentnwnt, Hint-l on Nursing
and Runrug, L‘Iiildrcu’a Cuinplliuu, l’liysinlogirnl Fuels, [lull-u hr llvnllli, liccipu fur Prqmring
wail-lumwn Cunuiwn, um, utiu, lummi upuu [lie unlimmy 0] Drs. “'Alllziilfi, lmpsn, l’uuuun
and nihch. Expruali l-repumd fur the lmne acricsi
‘l'nis :hnliiruhlc nun: in rmrixliurlg‘ liliad lo: PRACTICAL use in nrdinnry cum. ’l‘n xnollwnu and

nurse: in mm: nvuig on mm.- or in lllKk‘fl \\ here u pln'ainnn is lint lilwnyu m nimble—m ilmu

Isl“) wun in bllVr x mm,- ill :liuauuua wlwru Illc llill‘ l.‘ nut 01 u (“IIIIIIllQ'IA‘K‘d or “non: clmr-

lclul'm-illlfl lrunl ll pruvq u Cummxnm nml (l mu. li,‘ (unlrnir urn xls l‘nllnn»:

:3lx'l ' Dial ’ «Barbi!» ltuli. Durinlurud Shin, Dimmlels of Iliu lln’ Disorder! of Oil and
:wcnx i- uni , Di)- l'iniplas, Eryunmins, lnllnnmnuury lilnsli, lll‘ll. Mun:lv.,thllu and Rule Ruah.
CIlIiUlL ‘Hll, Scarli-l Fevur, l Ltcr. Wm: mid (Jurusi

HiLAlN AH) NERVE Ulsh‘ .A—Apu‘ilrxy nnd Pnlay,Cruvnp, (‘Mnlq-uy, Dropny of ll!
Bruin, Uiulm ‘ind Fninting, Ex L'HHHHI (.1 [he lirnin, Epilepsy, llicmugli, iiyilropiiohiu, Hull
nun ..r the lii'nin, .ucliulrJuw, anraluin. higlmnure, Sumtrokc, etc.

:s’ m: 'nna ’l‘liIlUA’l ~inllnvnzn. Munilm. I
HF 'llli CHE: Brunt. i Lung l’ever, l’Ienrisy. “

' l'lllfl Alilli).\ll.\AL ('AVl']'Y.~ ('rnmp in llu: Stomnrh, Colic. Cnsiirem‘i

lieurllmrn, lnllnnunntiun of the Liver, liidnvyu, Spieun, Slunmch and BMW»,

, i Sum-runniun ni' Urine. \‘wnlitiug.

ill" [HE t‘ ‘V HltAl. SYSTERL—i illnun. Remittth Fu’er, loiln, llnrnl rind Smilds,

nix.» ui Yr“..qu Minn-s. mm m Inmu, l'liiliiini ('umrr, ummm Fun, (warm-Ia,

Drmvnin: Iru'lw, Jana nnd AL-uc, 1",14...,irr.nnn ,Ainngumu mime, Mic-mien g, nup-

' ‘ mi'nlzi 51mins, Tm-tliw-lie, 'l'i’l-huid Fevur, rte.

—.\npnreuc Delilll lmln NI-Ximis Vuyoru, Appnreut Dcuh from

I Lightning, Ann-went [truth in) llnnging, liluuing'lrulu n Wound,

~m

    

 

       

 

 
    

 

    
  
 
     

      

 

ACCl I) .l
Climmul, A”
u unnu. l mnnmns, Slrmnnninni nmi (Tuninnl, ('luliiing (In Firr, Uysntting ofu Bunk.
.- V'l‘lllifl‘lifi TU l’iIISUN.-—Aninmnin nr Hnrlulmrn. Allliluullllll Wine, Turnir El ‘ Arun.
it, (‘urru‘ive bnblnnntv, lmgwumi. Ivy, em, Nitric, Nil, lmric. or Mulinlic A4 id, Nil" or .‘nlt
'wlur, (hian Acid, Opium. Luixdnnnm, Morphine, l’lunsic Acid, Spinniuh l-‘liel. Sirong Lye,
'trivli inc Slug ir uf [.l-ml, nnd nthers.
‘EA " HF CHILDREN Croup, Cniic, Diurriicn, Fever, Fitn, Spurn, limping-cough.

‘u-k (‘liilllrevn ltickeu, bcrulnln, Signs of Disenu.
RULES OF ME \L'I‘ll.
No. 4.— DIME HOUSEWIVES’ MANUAL ;

Or, Haw in Knep House and Order n Ilium", lluw tn Dyv, (‘Iennsn- und kennvnio; HOW to Cu)
Fit. mnl )lzilw Gnriuenla; How to Cultivniu l'lnnin nnd Finn/rim, How to Cure h-r Birds nnd
Hmwhnlil l‘n'ls, um, um. A Cmnpaniun m llIL‘ Dime “ (Junk " nnd " Rccipe " Boolu. By Mn.
M. V. Vic'n-n. This rnnlnnls are n: l'nlimvu:

HOW TU Klfil‘ll‘ HUCSE.- \‘wluni, “oust-hold Artirlvs. (‘uppvr \‘esluls, Blunkell, "mu.
Cleaning, To mnke 11 Cheap, Ens} und llnndsmnc (hair, A Tnilnl, 'J‘uiile, A Lounge, a Pair ol' 0‘-
guumus, \\'inr’nw Slimlu, A \\'naiialmul_ n “'nrdrnlm, An llmxr Ulnrn, n “'nrk-Tni .o, l‘iremmnl 0/
Funny Flowers, To "min! Rug, (Joninum Mats und Rugs, The (‘nru of Bah, Fenllien, Frullin
Beds, A Few l 'im, Se] [inn “0' paper linnginus, The bursary, Eirnping lrom Flru, Ami-lent.
(nun Hurumz v .' '

HUVV TI) 1“ AND (.‘LE

 

rent llcn

   

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I
s
1

     

(ivncrnl Dirertions. Scurlnt, (frimnnn, Pink, Mulder, Red,
[’urplu, LI r, Purple Slitle, Unmnion Sluie, lilnv, S lnc, Yellow, Ornnge, Nnniieen, (-‘run,
Brnwn, Uinnnnmn Color, mick, To Dye Straw numm mm.Mum-.0110.- m silk», Urnnge for
Silk, To Dye Franklin-rs, to Clem: Furs, 'l'n (,‘lnnn n Cunt, (.‘ruyu Slum Is, Staffs, etc., Cnrpetr, Wliiil
Luce \'1iil~i, Ki-l (v'lnvrs, lienllivrs lor Brain, How in “'nsli nnd lrnn, Nnrriving, Fnlding, Iraning,
run, ’1'“ pl'qmn: Stnrvli, Flnnr Starch, (ilue Skim-ll, Stunning Clnlhea, Sprinklinx Clutllex, l’nlding
)llh-H. lrnuing, Slnrcliink, T4) Clcur-Slnrrh Late, olc , lwninu Lin-«n, ('niirt-u, Flannel», ill-wk
l‘o Wmih uln‘tu Cnunturpnnru mui ('nliro inlm, Tn linlnre Luster lo Him-k billi, Black
-r for l’udrd Mourning Dream-a, lilnvk (Jon‘s, el('., To Reslure Dnrk Blue (or any otlmr Cal
nred) M k ur Rilibun, To chm‘li “'unl, Silk nnd Slim“;

“0'. "1‘0 C " ' ;\ N I) MAKE HARM ENTS.——A Urcn,5ummer Jnclieis, Winter Jackets, Airrom.
Cnp- 'ris, luln‘n'n Clothing, lnl'unlsY C ntliinir,( lu-icr oi l oiwru

li‘HV '0 TAKE CARE 0!“ l'LANTfi, FLOWERS, lint—Hun” Plan", Plants Designed In
Still-d ()vrr, i’lnnts l‘usigned fur Flnwuing, Pulling I‘Ianll fur “'inlt-r Car, linlbnus i‘lnwers '9'!
in“ llwusv, Uunwliu, Jilll-rlllclll, Gwen-house l’lnnt-, .‘liuxmlwue Ham-r: llirulxulnlnt rim Km, '17
l'l-«i-ri'e lhliliu Runts, 'l'o l’rnlm't Tunder Plants Luit Out, Cnnipout fir l'nuirg l’luliln'TL

1 Monthly Rusm, (h iinma, ('lindrcrs fur Walls. T - . lull l‘lou-
' limpinn Lil , Dnlilius, Lilims, an tilt-n, (h w ' (.merv, Axpnrngb
Quincy, Tn ()hluin hlfl'nrenl. Flown-n from tl-r Sumo Mid liliglil.

“(MN TO TAKE CARI“. Ill“ BIRDS AND H( ——\Vlieu and [low in Pn,‘
I ' tuuiinu ul Hie Cuge,1“nml \VllllQ Pairing, Nuin nnd . Isl Buxu, Fund while licnYlllj:
c. e r Young, in”... “r llulrhing, MW in Feed Tim“, '1'” “ring tin: Young Um}: up by liund, I'imld
fur Ynnuy Birds, Geriuun Push- fur (‘nua Binin.’ln kcrp lnn)‘ insects, To Diuinguish xii: bu,
Hacking Bird, Ainerirun Yullnw Bird. liulliincn «.

DIS 'ES UF MINUS AND THEIR TREA FMENT.—Mnlt'ng, Swelling or Inflnmumtinm
Th. Surl‘eit,’l‘lie my, the Husk, Hgg-bunnd.

No. 5.—DIME DRESSMAKER.

Inlrndnctiou, The Ciifllge, \anwt 0: Bmiy, The Sierras, Mourning, Veglizn Trifict, tiblmn
Traveling Tuim, Clonk-mukiuz. Baum-u. I‘nlh-rns fur (Hitting 0m. D Wurki Mun-rial- nn
\Inplumenu, Pnrcliuso of Materials, Dictionary of Millinory nnd Dru-marking, Technicnl Terms 11'
Dru-making and Millinery, Lac-en and Exn‘ormdvrii-s, Cnlorn, Flowers, elm, Cnrbailla in Marringu.

‘3‘" Thu booku Ira lnr sala by :11 nuwulrnleis: or will he lull post-nnid to an ' “drug 1
mipt of prlco, ml alun IACI, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. EIme 98 Wu. 3.. N. Y.

 
 

 

  

   
 

 

    
  
 
  
 

 
         

   

 

     

   

   

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DIME

STANDARD

DIALOGUE

    

For School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments.

N01. 1 to 91 inclusive. m» 9'. Popular hi-l was ml Drums in mh hnnk rim-n volume 100

1 xhopzigun,nxu1mat

 

n.1,unrutciiitvi'yricu,micunu.

Beadle & Adams, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y.

 

Those volumes have been pmpnrwl with n-spvrin
hung iuinnteil to ni‘hnuls nnd llll‘lhl’s \Vllll ur willn
6115i AND YOUNG PEUHIJC (if Luxury rL't‘Jmi

thur bmiim in (ha nmrliet, M, :\n\' price, conmiu no uumy uwiul nnd .wniinbio dialogue: unddrun

‘frf wit, pnthql, huuiur and Buntiuwnt.

I rulZ-ruuto tn lhrir nvnilnhilily fin Exhibitinru'
ml the inmitnm M n stilt: null mnnul 1.. ' '
h “min null i'mnnlvv. It iwl 'r In ilsminm in.

  
  

    

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 1.

Martin: of the “Tu-pg. For nine you“: limit-a.
Bailing a Live Englinhmnn. m m..- i...;.a.
uuo‘a Curmintiun. Fur male and faraniu.
anhinu. For two indivi.
Tim Rehumnl. For nix bars.
\Vhirh will you Chomh-i Fur twohnvs.
This Quuun .r my. Fr-r th inn. “aria.
giro Tegn-l’nrty. ‘2?!“ l...” mu...
true . comm in mum Life. it ~ .
Mm. Snitlleu' Cunhtnimi. “MM n mm"

For nml l mu I Hi 1-.
1n. Miaiiuu ufthsb'pirits. my. y‘uung‘l: if; i

DIME DIALO

The Genius at Liberty. 9 miles um! i (amide.
Cimierniln: or. The Littln (Hus! Slimwr.
Doing: G'H’d ninl Snying 13ml. Sui-mil rlinrnrtorl.
The Golda" Rule. Two mules unil two lunlnlv
Ph‘e Gift of “its i"niry Queen. Sererul funnies.
.I‘nxun in Mud Dane Fur. For two qlmrm turn.
The Country Aunt'l “unto the City. Mr nev-
ernl characters.
‘he Two Rolllfllll. For two main.
1 ryinz the Chm-curs. For tiiru-u will".
The Ha [IV Familv. For nm‘erui ‘nxlihtlll.’
Thu 1 ubow. F0" lvvarni :lm'nctcri.

DIME DIALO

rh- Mny Qnaen. Y‘nr rm entire srlinnl.

l'en ltufvnn Convention. For ten fvmniel,
Keeping flnd Cumpnnv. A Fnrce. Fur livu mnln
Courting Under Difficultiaa. 2 initial, 1 1mm u.
Nltlnnnl Repruentntives. A Burimluu. 4 nmiul.
[unplug the Draft. Fur nuilmruln inning.

DIME DIALO

“9 F'OII King. For ten or more remns.
Starting in Life». ’I hung mules null twu fi-mnln‘u.
Funh. It. »e "mi Chm”. 1-m- thrvuiiltlu uni.
DH" an Jonn. For tit-n mules ninl O’lllrl'lllllik'.
The iny. A Flurnl mev. For six liit a girls.
The Enchanted Princeu. 9 nmlesfiu-vornl it‘lllfllI‘s
innur to “'hum Honor in Due. '1 males, l forum].-

If?“ Grntlu Client. Forseveml lnulrs. mm fr'nxllv
rcnnuiogy. A Dilcussion. Fur twenty nmics.

DIME DIALO

no Tim-e Gunmen. Fnr nrhnol nr nrlnr.

Sentiment. A "Three Persun" ” ‘:| 11!-
him the Curtnin. For mnius nmi fwnnlM.
he En. l‘i Society. Fm bays nnd n tv mm.

 

 

 

lluhnnhhing.
'I'n. SrrrelnfSuC

I’nrtix'el nnlmn.

'nr tlm-o lpl‘nkpn,
Youer Aiuprivn. rm rnnlcs run! two Annular.
Juso »hinu'n Destiny. Four l‘mnnlen. (\lil'limll-,
The <‘uli\ of the Dual. Fur thrvu main-pent."-
Dugnmtiim. For thn-e mule llu-llht'l‘.

'l‘ha lrnnrnnt (?nnlnnn-lril. For two lmy‘

Tho rm Yuung Min. Furtwu "mt...

The YenrN lh-rlmninz. l'.’ nannies "ml 1 "mm
Thu Viiiagcr with {)nu Gautluninn. Fur gig)”, {w
Innh-s and on: mule.

GUES, N0. 2.

How to Write ‘ Pnpnlnr’ Stories. Two mnth
The New unri this ‘lhl. Fur two llllllui.

.\ Si-nuntinn nt Lnnt. Fur (wn nmlu.

The llicenhnrn. For two males.

The Thrau him] of Scium‘r‘. Fur four main.
Thu Ohi Lndy's “'iii. Fur fnnr Innivn.

The Little l’hii st-pllcfl. Fur twu iiliiu girl].
How to Find nu Heir. For five Inuit-i.

The Virtual. Fur nix young indie».

A (‘mmnhini Erlngue.
The PI: ii: nipeting. Finmnlu nnrl nnafomnlo.
The English Trawler. For twu mule-n.

GUES, N0. 3.

Th» Gnntesl Conk. For two mnlnl.
Fnr two millL-l l l two {om-l“.

'i‘hc Twa ltomnuu. For two Inn -.

’l'hn Smue. Snr-md scene. For two main.

Showng the \\'hitu anthor. 4 "mini, 1 r.-m.r.M

Thu linttin Call. A ltuuitatlvm For and main.

GUES, N0. 4.
The i‘xtnhh‘otown Volnnhu-r. 'l mnlen, i ’flmli~
,\ Sr. Ilr (rum “ l’nul l‘ry.” Fur fuur innit-n.

no ('Irllrml. Fnr three main and on» icinnla.
Iii-a, Chick rind Brown. For thin-u- little uirln.
r1... liicht \Vm'. ACullnquy. Fur two hoyl.
\\'hnt (ill! Yn- er Snys. Fur two nmlu.

'I‘he (‘rinws n Dress. A Coiloquy. Fin-twat»)...
l'lu Ruwuni of Bunsvulvlu‘e. tor [vur unilen. ‘
The Lem-r. Fur two mulch (

 

 

 

Kinslerpicru.

 

 

arms, N0. 5.

Puttan nn Mu. A Cnilnqliv. For two mnlel.
The Straight Kink. For vaurn] lmyl.

Two lllcfltl of Life. A Collnquy. For tan girl;
Extrm-t {ruin Mnrino Fnlicm.

Mn-trv-Mnnn-r. An AciingChnrmin.

 

Elnmilmth'l Dav. I-‘ormaverni Iemnlo clmructon
ruling in “ Trays " Fnrsevenzl "Air's.
“0501mm!!qu Tribunal. Farten hm.
norm Tommie. Sn’vernl mnim mid funnier.
How Not to Got an Answer. For twa females.

The lQix Virtues. For six \nnntr llhllf‘fl.

Thu Irishman at Home. Fur two inniul.
Fullllnmtlrlu anuircments. Fur thrun pith.

A Bevy of Va (Eyel). For uightor inn littia girl-

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 6.

The “MYTth RPM 3 gum-t.
1.9)," P-Idt under Difficultiefi. Fur five main.
win-m Tall. For a who]. ulmol.

nmnn’n

:gh

All in not Gold thlt Glitters. Niki. and tannin. Sun!» Cinnl.

.hc Gannon- Jaw, For six main.

“ow-s For mini... m and hunt».

 

Mn!.- and (musics. Tim Twn (‘nun<elnm. Frr thno mnqu.

Tha anurirl nr Fully Fur n numb: r often-mug,
Aunt. Betly‘l Remix. Four Itnmh-I nml two mliu.

u so?“ female! and two milieu. The Lihnl Suit. For two for-ml“ turd an. nub,

Far I number of hows.
Chriltmnl Flirie'l. For laurxl littiogiu. J
Tho Three map. For we nnlw,

   

in MM

25m Lwn luggan For [Lurlecll x'u-ml-r.
a anrilt—cluld in («dry-13.11 lv
my years hence. ' l

way to Windham. Far n10 'Il.AieJ.

un-ln. A poetic ‘lfl'lsllfle at worl‘. 'l‘wu Lu v. :

X
The ‘Olugiaa. A (lollcquy. BU: an”; nmlum
Haw to gut. rid OfB born. Fo- x-eml buyl.
Bonrdlng-Ichool. TWOmJ:L ’«x-I'. two fan.qu
Plea. for the pledge. F x .‘o mnlon.
Thu llla of dram-drip ' For threw buyl.
Erna pridl. A coll< py For tm' {mun-a.
.‘hu my Jenni-:3... not aumerom umlul.

35418 DIAL

:9 fairy School. For “.1 number of girlr.
£8 curollln ot’tic *. Thme girl» am‘. two boys.

mm: bul enthusimal. For :hrse l' u.

zirl ofthe Purlud. For three r 5 .d.
.e fuwl ubellton. ‘l‘wu males and one l‘amuln.
b‘UW but euro. Several mr'gu and mo (amides.
Candlu’avelocl la. a... mule luv an: lam-lo.
ghefiguraa. Bar auvernl sxnnll chil~‘rcn.
.tzn txlal OfP-‘wr Slcpcr. For suv: \ boy].

-

'3,

Jlmc School Starlet—Malamute.

DIME D1~ LJGJES No. 7.

,A\___._.._._.....,
‘ Two new: ul' “4‘. Colluva. For two {umnlfi
'l‘h - rights of munlc. Fur lwu Irma en.
- n can. A q ry m vzrsu. 'l'u'ugirlfi
l 'l‘nu \VJllldrbu ml; mi Fur tum malt».
U -Iue ta lilc we mun. rue mama.
: E1glun‘clucl.. lr‘ur um I. gum.
‘ l‘x illmm. A cullcqny. l r hm boys.
l Unut‘tn'o upcnswe, km lu'u: Hus.
f “Aunle and bile Emu!“ Fur .wu pcranns.
i Little red ri-ung tum-ll. 1-2;: {we mnulcv.
. Nuw nmuicntiun u! .m H rum. I .uiJ ,:irln
i Culou uuuiihn. A Cuiiuallf. Aur lwonnhn.
K} J25 :10. 8.
v -\ plmlogmpll. \l l
L_\‘ [or u neril inn m'wmnl. l-u' glrlg
lull in iliguitv. ‘ :girli, six lmyr.
u vll. .xpwtmium. 1v." m» 1...”.
PL.) ‘. (ncluml. Five l'cnmlcumd four mules
Clvrf'. '\ fur Lhe heath-41. Um! mule, um.- {mm-Q
A h.“ Law. For lun'vl‘r s.
UE-ual'. Fur ten {mlmlcl .md me man.

~A and {m flu.

BIKE DIALOGUE .‘30. 9.

advertising "m belt). 332‘  number if l'enmlm.
morch to inglmd,greellzig. rf to boys.
he old and the new. Four fumalr' Jnc mnlu.

Gholco of "Eden. For evolve Hula boy!-

The hip-dog. For t-ru (sundae.

{A‘he vlctlm. For {our females andona mniu.

'.,"ue dueling. For twin buys,

' 'Ele lnw hllosophy. For femalua marl mnch
1300M nation. Fa: mo f. unlei.

Thu lm- or llumnn kimlnnll. Fur two l'unlllh
hpwlul children. Fur u min-l “1100].

ll. mus mm Cneiuu.

l‘uriul-uma nml Antitli-xs.

The now ulmlnr. For '| mlmbar nl' g‘rln.

'l'hu nelf-Inudn Int—n. For I‘lll'm: mnlul.

Thu May uuen (No a) Fur n ncluml.

Mrs. luck nnnl’s ec"!.‘vu_\'. 4 lmyn :md
Slmultl women be gi'n \ the Dullull F0 wyn.

LUIS DIALOGUES No. 10.

I‘D. Mark Twain's shoe. One male. one lemnlu. '

 ald flag. School fastian Far thrae buyu.
The cayrtof folly. For mun girls.
Hm: hVDE- For ll: be]: Am atrzlrls.

dill. For mun-mun mnlu nu females
The llghl of lava. For two bayr
The flower chlldren. For f rn‘;.a glrll.
She deal uncle. For thus boys.

A (luau-ion. For iwo boyn.

#

A panacea an we dereitl‘ul. ‘ur all mm.
A a conundrum fnml y. For mule llnl l’nmnlo.
Cum): llctly. ’l‘nrea male: and four fumnlnn.
{.uk mud the bean-talk. For fivg ennructers.
he wn ta do ihmd not, to do it. 3 fetnul
How to uc-unu b. ‘lthy, ulc. Mal: and l‘enmlu
The only lrus llx‘ . For two girls.
Clnulc colloqulus. " two buys.
I. Gustavus Vnm a; Crintiarn.
'l‘auuorlnuo and 3 wt.

'l‘hu I‘chsnml. lv‘vr n Dchlni.

The Irue wny. Fur th‘le buys and on. girl.

A pmnllcnl life leu m. For three girll.

The In ink [Ul‘l lhv MtlJler. for lwn bu .
177G»H76. Sch-ml f. uvm. FT two glrln.
Loni lmmlre tr)": Vi t. L) Innln’t niul '1 tannin
\Vltchen in tho rrenvn. Far il- ‘-. nml :l bo)|.
Fronclunnn. Cum“. him-em: | «Annual

DIME DIALOGUES No. 11.

Fur two little glrli.

Vii";

[“lsilit‘fllhic dissipation.
A school clnmdn. For tun hay: and twf
Jt-nn lnualxlw'n "Soup 5.! Swen." So! i
A dnbnta. lfur Mir buys.

H and Dick‘s lawn. For linen boyl.
School chnrnulr, with tnblanu.

A very queItL-Imbl nary. For tun. boy
A gull. For thr a nulu.

The real gentleman. Fur two boys.

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 12.

r . Nfl‘fll‘ll‘ chnln'lf‘n.
1r Bovvrul (
. For lwuuir .

r s hurithc. For two lroyl.

. Two males nnJ l'unr lamnlcl.

Tho flower-gnulon fulrlp-I. For five llttlu zlrln.
:91nlmn'n nuvel. ’l‘hrucmnlvamul hi‘n feiunlus.
Sivan: of the \Vldons. Fa three girl;

Ankoe msnrnnrn.
bird‘s" lvnnlud ‘

A wully nnl. tn gnuern mu. Tm chariot-n.

lI-nv ta Ina u-ngo. r\n lll'lln: churn-Iv.

'l'he vacation pr . Four 5 mid with".
'l‘hnt nnughty bu- Thren farm a: mad I mnlc.
hl‘ul-L‘up. Aw ntlmg rhnrndo.

All ll nut gold 'h it ulitterl. Arllnz proverb.

Si: trmult glurin mundl. Acting dun-Ade.

DIME DIALOGUES NO. 13.

Fur lllre'e minimal.
‘or several females.

vn o’clock ln the mominvr.
Kn lndlgnutlnn meeting.
Won Ind behind the menu. Sin-oral chnrncl’x.

'71" WIND“ ho . A nmnbernrhnyl nml tench".
Blue Bard. :lr-u place. For girln and buys.
‘M Io bid u it learns. Fm levernl chnrnctun.

curbnoxu moral. Fnr hm mnlu Md female.
a“ II. For paler-ad uhmuon.

Worth. not we: tlt. For (our boys and n luck‘

31-. men word In lull. For uwul lull».

'l‘ha shaping bunty. For 1; who .

8n innocent intrigue. Two rlnlu nndn mm
lrl Nuhly, tho fonuno-hllcr. For Him {Hg

Buy-kl}. For uvorll lmla bay». . '

 

Moth" ll dud. For nun! um. [Illa -
A pruunl u) 

For "albeit-ll

 

 

 

Dime School Series—Dialogues

 

 

'— .___,____.._

    

W

‘ DIME DIALOGUE} No. 14.

Din. Jenna Jonel. Tlirco gout: and two Indian.
in) burn geuiiu. For Iniir gel-u.
Mort. than one immiur. Fur {i-ur gent: undlndy.
ho on I’lll iii is Iicl l‘ur tlirei- Killd.
(The right nut t.) he :l pnupcr. l‘ur two bays.
- oinnn nature \Vlll mu. Fur n gii-ln' ncliool.
Iluueilict null biicliulur. For two boys.
_lle out will ilrvuu. Fur live Irriolll.
Iliu surprise puny. I‘urlll litllu girls.
Apructicnl delnuufll’nllvn. l’ul‘ tlim boyl.

  
 

Uuii .Liulwu, lllt.‘
Huw l0 iu.il:u Hm! iLlJ linmvy.
A cunt lusivu ll!";lllimll{. l‘ul' 1W0 Klrlh

A \vnmnli‘h lillnilnui-w. Fur u”... gun.
ltuin‘u Wurli \‘l‘i-iiiiwinm-n) Fm [Mir gun".
’l'lm nitnl inislulm l-ur two 3min}: Indies.
E}i:lllli|lll\l5\1. l‘ui 4H0 gent ninl one lady.
Retribution. Fur n iiuuntiur ol Wyn.

 

 

.ir lwu boy].

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 15.

The fairivn' eurnpnrle. Numerous rimruciuru.
A lint-L's Purpluiiiu. Fur nix Ki-ntluincu.
'A. name lulu. for tn 0 lnilieii ninl (mu gout.
I‘ll“ Lwnl than: is in uuuli. A number ol boys.
(ii-nilmncn nr munku For two buyn.
no lllllu pliiiuti-puci. For two littla glrll.
Aunt I’oll) ‘u lumnn. liar four indies.
’ivinil—iull. Ailing riinriule. Fora number,
\\ ill it pny'l l‘ur twu boy.

 

 

1i. n‘i nun-w \\l,:ll inn lu-nr. Iii-r nil-do 1mm
A. Kiel. ruw. I‘l'l llirwli inn.

'I'Iiu cliivl'n run-min. Iii ' n-i, imi- 1m. "mi",
'Imnig m 1mm. l-nr um mu .i...r.».ru....
'l'lin lurcluui-iS. i riilili-x. hm hm lmli
'1 ln- int \\ lilllilll. 1n. n\\ n- r. Sewn.) .li.
Numrnl uuiutlioii. 1' hr thrcu unlit-mun.

'l‘li. lull :il lm. F--r niiuiciniis ninlu. '4

 

 

  

curl

DIME DIALOGUES No. 16.

'1: llv Ann. For {our lniliu Imtlnnu zentieimul.
in. llil‘v‘lll: n: the wlu-ll. lwr )1 school.

The Wm my did. Mr six indies.

’l‘lic buy wlm wml. Fur nix gautlemen.
Gurnl-ln’ iiuy. A mlluquy. For three girls.
The m. w u mun. For three buyxt.

Tllu imcsiigniin,‘ cunnnitme. Fur niu- l-dien.
A “ owner” in rnguen. Fur {our buys.

 

'i'i~.~ i...” pr in. nuuk mm. ‘ 1:... r...- rim.
'11... i.~,.n.-r.. A runnni- .u- z... i.ii.- girls
liiux-‘u rum-uni. l'ur in \wr lll|llr in”,
filming. in. ('Iinrmlr. ‘l‘lrr I('\ l'llll iliurm'turl.
'l‘miiini; ln-r It'llullll’s. l-nr lilillluluun whalan
T...- iwrni in u lint ...- um.» i. 'l'nn :lrll.

’1 Lu ulu unu 11w huu'. Fm gentleman Ind Judy,

 

DIME DIALOGUES No. 17.

[.1er! 701.1(5’ snnciinn un LilAmnfl'K".

To be happy you mult be goud. For two litilu

Klrla iiud one boy.

Villle‘lCl‘ll‘ glory. For n lievy of boys.

lie litila rrenreninkrr. For two little girls.
"lint xinrt! irirnilii. For two little girls. _

Murtlm Wuliingnm tv-n party. For five: lull.)
Kll’ln ii; old-Lime Cillflllllld

The uril tlirru in in ll. For tum young ban.

Wise nnil fooliin liltlu girl. For two girls.

A child] inquiries. l-nr llllllll Clllld and number.
'1“: ranking club. For two girll and others.

low tn (in it. For two lmyn. V

A liuinlml vean i.» Colllfl. li‘or buy and girl.
071". trust} .03. For several niiinll b0) I.

Above ilie al.‘ a. l'or lwu llnllll girls.
his true llel’oilln. l-‘ur three little hnyu.

Give us little bun; n clinncu: The story of'tlivo
plum pudding; I‘ll be n innn;  llttlo girl I
right: flpi‘flth; Julinny'n opinion of grinni-
mothers; The bonstiug lion; He now: “1:?
rest; A auuill boy’u View of coruI; Robby II

 

Iél‘lnxill‘ Nubnily's iliiiil; Ni.tl‘.nznt grandp-
(imy I; l.lll|u Imy'i \iuu‘ nl llnw (minim-u.
(llscm ri-il Aiimrll ii; I iuli- L'irl'n iii-w; l.lt-
‘18Inn‘fiulirtl'llfil’l“HM; A uni. lw-y'n .....-k.
at; The iiiirlnlijli! lnurdri'; lini My Ki lu‘u um:
and ll“mun: llnw ilu- lll|l1_\' “inn; A lu I
olunrvnnunn; ’ll:.- imw hlulf; .r\ inuilwr‘n
law; This i'rmunin‘ glory; lluliy'lnilu ; Juiih
llillliign on the immnl. new. w..~u,ulugni..r;
rum )i-nlurilny; 'l'lw i'liiclii-n'l “ruin: 1'; Th.
lirir nppnmu; Dd-llu-r mi 1min mil; llnn't
mum. 1.. in- Klilill; (Inly a urunlirn li-Ilnw;
'I‘Iiu luu liulu ruliiiin; Ila slow ti ruiiiluiiin;
A nnnu-nn- ul . .llIll‘ lmy’ulw Iuiunlinn; A
cliil4l‘n4liwirc; llngih; 'I lie pililiii i'nt: liub.
I‘IlHll; ('nluinn) l.i|Llo l lintlvrbnx; \l'hrr.
nru Hwy: A in ‘5 Nut; ’l'lia iwnniv nu.“
Going ti Kr‘linnl; i\ lnlrrlllllg liuili. l‘Im {yr
of “ill-llul‘: l\ {uni-V; ll: llm uuiiliglil; ’l‘li.
new ini-l rug; 'l‘l‘o llllli- miniuinn; idle Bun;
I’mtvry-mun; Tlu‘ll und llvu‘.

 

 

 

   

   

 

 

DIME DIALOGUES No. 18.

Fnirv wishes. For several clinriicterl.
Nu rum- wiilinur n tliurn. 2 males and 1 female.
Ton greulv bv liall. For tlireu mules. '
Ono urn-il'tur‘n deserves nnmliur. For 6 lndiel.
Clfllll‘ldl‘; Melinda. For 3 boys rind l lady.

lm imw scholar. For snvernl buyl:
The little intercessor. Fur fuiir lmllefl. '
Alli-:Cntlfinu- For 3 gentlunien and 3 indium.

(£in a rim; n linil nnine. Fur luur gentlemen.

Slll'lllyvllinv \t‘lfllli‘fi. For six l-ulu girls.

Lust L‘lnirii. . ur, llle may» ruwngu. For In:
llu’l'ullli ('llru‘m'lx'lh‘.

A litlle tramp. lr‘nr three little lmyn,

lluril lllllml. Fur ‘.' puntlniuvn and 4 Indian.

The JI‘IM'H wr-ll Wurtli learning. For two uni"
nml KW’I lnmulua.

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 19.

An mrfiil mylt-rv. Two (eunilus nuil two iiinlen.

Cniimutninnt, For firi- little lioyl. '

‘VIIO nru th mini-l For turn... yuum! It'll“

Culiforuin uncle. Three innlel ninl thrue funnier.

Be kiinl m the pnnr. A mug lolkl’ nlay.

How people are iii-urenl. A “ duel.”

Mnynr. Acting: clmmde. For {our tbnrnctim.
a unioka fiend. For {our boyl. V

l kindergarten ilinlo uo. Forn Christin-I For
tivnl. Panonnud y uven duration.

“1 nu olltndv. For Ilim girl;

 

 

The rvtiiiu-nl ‘llllllilclfillfl. For fnur liuliel.

ltiviiioiiilrer llt‘lmllll. For tlirw innli-ii.

,\[ml.-rii eullll'illluli. ’l‘lmie lnrllurl .inl one lemnld.

Mnil with {w |l.l.i'll lur l-'ur threw iiinlul.

The fair, '5 \\ ni‘uiiig. Ill‘cfil iii-2w, li'ur lwu girl;

Aunt Euiiim'n oxivurinimit. Fur Irvr-rnl.

'\|"‘lniunn uturiuuu H (i. ’l‘un folilnlml nnrlune mull.
'u 1 un- iu iu-rl mgr rim nmn. Fa nut
and two {clllllli'm L r a“.

An old-fulilnnml duct.

Tho Auction. For numeral)! chine“.

 

   

"-0"

u»...

Dime
I
The wrong vmm T'xr-n mnlvm nml Lhm fun-Ll:
Anunuun c .115. F .r lu'o hula glrln.
Ned's pres-ml. Fur l'uur boys.
.7 ulgu not, Fur Icnulxer mrl mm «1 uholan.
' ~ For (our liulu lulu-I.
For Lwn bm'a.
enmy. ’l‘wo mnlus'nnd lhru femnl I.
C nIlJu‘l Y-E‘Ill Engliah. For 3 man and) .uumle.
A lllllu Vusurim. 1""! six llulu girls.
"50M." For three buyn.

001 arias-Dialogues.

33m nib—ins 325,310. 23. ,

An nlr caule. Fur five mule! and lb". fomnld
Cin mnnnrn and cuuntry hum. For Inn-"w
mu] one lmy. - r
The |llly dlnputo. an lwu zlrll nntl lmclnn
NM. um- then! For lullrnmlu charch
l“vm‘-prlll£. liur numeroul clmrurur .
Kerpiug bonnieru. Two {em lel and lime rm‘n.
A run.- mr good. One lunlynml twn genllumen‘
l'he ueduluu: wise-nun. for ma malu.

DIME DIALOGUES. No. 21.

For nwvrrnl. .

A momsaful .lnnntlnn Mrly.
For thu: mulul Ind

0.". "Idem out of daugur.
Ulree finnnlvl.

Lillie Rev] liming Hood. Fnr twn children.
ow sh» made him urupnm. A duct.

The hnuse an the lull Fur bur Emu-lei-

Evllloncc 9nan n. Fur two males.

\Vnnh and wealth. Fur (on; fomalu.

Wsmrfall. For uvnml.

Mark lluszingn’ mum. For (nut Hillel.

Clud relln. Fur levvrnl children.

Too much for Aunt :Wnllldn. For lhree fermion

Win ngninat m‘e. 'I‘lzree {rnlulu kimono m

A nudden remvvryi For three mllzl. '

’l'hell-mide strutngam. Forloun‘em..leu.

Cmmtin_ chickgm before they won. hutch-d.
For :uur males.

‘ ,

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 22.

'50 Dark Cupld'. or. the mlsmku ul‘ 3 murning.
For lhruu gentleemu | mul twu 1. lies.
Tlm; Swarm-well: or, a brolhgr's leuon. Fur
twa mnle| nnd two (eumlex.
Illgh nrt; or the naw mnnln.
grams: udveuxuml. For two bnyn.
‘ ’I lupper. For fuur gir
A pmrliunl nxmnpllficnlinu. Fur two bnvs.
Mmuieur 'l'hlej in Aumrlcn; or, Yankee V:-
Freuchmmz. For fuur bu".
D-xxy’: diplomacy. (flew-1M anvl‘lncidenl all.’
A Frenchman; or, the mnwlnednunt. er twu
ladle» and «mu xnmleman.

For two glrln.

l'imnin's bnnquet. Fur n numbcrolerll.

Bu}: will be boys. Fur {we b0 I And one glr‘.

A rainy «lny; or, the m~lmol~glr philosophtn.
Fur Ihrw young ludlvh

God i: luv". For a number of nebula".

The way he managed. For '1 mnlu. ‘2 (entlr;

qulungo. \‘nrluu clmmuerl,whiu ydotla' .

wha.
The little donor. Fortwo tiny sirlh
A lumb‘ revungc. Fvl’ {our lmyl.
A May For thrae linla ulr I.
Vrnm ll) . hlhne mum ridicule“. For 1‘ m1l9~
man not 1mm. Forfiva boys.

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 23.

Blwh Hunl’a rl-merly. For 8 fe rnlaml mule. '
Hm“ Schmidt’s racnmmvml. Fur two nmlu.
Clloerv nml Urumhle. For cwn l tlle hm ,

The phunluul doughnuln. Fur nix Ismnlui.

A bear garden. Fur lhreo mnlec. two {undel-
o lvusy been. For four lmle glrll.
Me. For numerou- churnclul’l.
time. Fur lwn litlla girll.

 

r or nix malal.
Cumpany manner: un-l hoan impolileness.
two malel. two female: nml 1W4! children.
y, Fur two little hays.
Unlnnunulu Mr. menl For 1 mule,6 {cu-Alan.
TLII rul cost. For two girls. l

Dan it pnyl '
For

Domh rem). 9priu< llml rhnructerl Ind ndjumin ' V
Drum nnd geld. Sun-l charuxen, malt um

"IX ‘3.
(‘anluuud Millet Forthree millet, two {mm
lznomnve vs. juslite. Foreleven vulu.
Pudzmll ull. Mu' mur fomalu.

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 24.

Th. godnleu nl llberlv. Fornine \‘nnmz ludlu.

The zllree uracu. For lhrua luLlc wrls.

I'll. mull: director. Fur ueven null“.

A “range neural. Furllwuu ulrll.

Au unjust man. For four male

The lllup girl’s v'cnry. I nnlo. 3 fi-mnlot.

[he psycuumutinr. 9 gentleman, ‘1 Luke'-

Mm' A n I word 1'”? ll. l’ v' {Our Indira.

Wui mlml. A n nub» c.Inmu'n, bulb "WM.
‘uuud an: film magma n. Seven ynun~ '

m noelnllna hf tho vlelertnhlua nml lo: mlner-
llllfis- Fm- an hum uml two ul-mlam n.
v. ouch wuuhl have. 6 little bnys a. v. the!-
’ne t'nr'mgh ‘lle elundn. For four lull“
«ml in "and. Fur frmr mulel.
Tm hours. For mnlvc linlo mm.
In dnorl Ind out. For five little hays.
Dingqu Fur nun male nnd {unr fomalu.
Tl). pound of (lull. ll‘er thch boys.
’I um of m. paddlnn. 1 mixed chunk".
words. For 9 number of boys.
A blond. For I numer ol’ little glrll.

B'

The «ban book: are told by Newtd‘ulerl e1 wh re or wlll b0 MIL” dd  I
My: umipx charm, 10c nfiurh. E m‘ 5 I P .'  ’

3mm 0 was, mung". os wrung; pay}.

The fix lmn'! men. For all 130on
Ilmn you lmnnl Lln- nvwal
’l‘hu true queun. Twn young glrll. ‘
A ullghl mistake. 4 mulch, 1 law, “to,
erul nuxnlnricl.
any mld llmy. Ten little fallown. r
Th .2 nld mm Mung. 'l rentlumln, I um. er ' ,
’I'lml frnshl mnl. 3 lmllvnnnd l enllemnn.
IUulln-r Hum-q and her hnusehn d. A w
iclluul [nncy dreu dime.“ Ind tun-tic.

mxn DIAT.OGTIES, No. 25.

The true use nl‘ wealth. Far I wholo "label.

Gmnrucr. I" r numemuu clung-tars.

Pu! ynursel! in his place. For two buys

LEW: wi-o lxwull. Fm- four linlu girl‘-

The rrwnpmlnm. For five PM“.

Cram-ya: wmmug. raven-l :lurnflen.

luluurlzy :be hull of Illluvtlu. Two mil”. 1

A urnokai wav Inn-lo “night. On. panama
luul an. lad . ‘ /

Haw to “ bun ln ” young hunt. TIM lull.
and one gunman. V ‘ 3

 

 

0’ AMA:

 

DIME SPEAKERS—50 tovgpiljgggggwigiach Voluml.

 
   

 

DIME AMERICAN SPEAKER, No. 1.

 

Young Amnflen,
.rx.1..my..:\\‘ Engtnn
Hm. 1,: mu .\1. a law,
N ‘ nu Hm lmlllvfiul-b.
T: huh m mug“.
In lqnmnlrllru,
Unmuxmy, ‘
.n u .qmlily vufmnn, , _|»‘ I.
' Ll u-lrr “I 1h. [two In ‘\_A|rr “In D
'Hn- {mi 1 wrung w If, 1 -\ Kl u- mg w-l.
Tu "mm; “menu's, \1 .Im .14 .h_
Tr...“ mm, NW),
'1' m myllcry nx‘llfe,
1' m up! mm down ,
".u: Lu!" put.

A. \Vnd'lmgflun,
I‘m. HJli-Hmhly,
nu. u.qu an),
5011‘s.: a
Lin-m
. be mu,

 

 

 

 
 

 

{hurt

 

   

 

  

.v “M; .H . mm.

A m rm} m-n,
[L‘nu n.wr my ‘.- hJufll,

rlr rui'ring and nn‘g, J J.-h -n'u‘A urnuun,

l‘lm uuulm.
.‘. n. |1v.l'l"fl,

Tm. them-a. (v Ann. . u. L. ,
I", 

 

., .u' “th unhumw'.

 
  
 

,
\l 1‘“! n 

And Wu M van,

. rent Iivu l-nporI-h-‘do
1 m “Him.
. umu

  

 

lnu- u urn,

.Inmp “er, «lulu. .u , .-
. . “ml-mu” .
.lmyml (nu \m...‘ 4 m'L...- 1‘...
U u, .n-l‘m ,
v, |.,‘\‘v'u‘um .x-Mm,
Ju‘. Inuu‘. u;._v‘.1u(| u unurncd,
w v n4 \rppful>l ~13 Lu} ...,

‘\' nllJ x,

 

 

 

 

m .m m «n

      

 

  

w,
1.»: ‘wlliun of 18m,

‘LH‘,\\_A\1 x_ , mum-.1
-ummw.

DIME NATIONAL SPEAKER, No. 2.

1' I? m an“ Inn-anu, {T-cu'n! h“ j.»- 'v,

   

 
 

0 |r mumry‘n mum, Human ‘1 c. u awn,
'n' m nmmumn'n Inuor- ’ H mm 21 ‘ ‘_
1"“: I; . h ‘ 4'! pr

Tm.) mm vrm v. m
Ln! me CH Him: weep, [ m n m.
(I cvu-nryn day, w'L- an! i-

1'-u m I hm: \rh ml, L‘ w

     

mu.

I “lem- m-ll, , .m,
an. ,. ulur'nlignily, ,

 

Iv-I Hf rr Inn-l,
A hrm rAllll\1\‘.l, ,
Smhiluyol'k‘nrmmnity, 1":
The true higher hm, U r. ,

The one gmu new], (m m- a mhorh:um-,
'1“: :hip and that bird, liuhnw MI Hm. Cm

 

v‘n

   

 

 

my.v
HI.\.-an.~1r.l ?Ofly,
a .r .lu-u‘u-l,
Nun-um vx m-Hrl,

.1 :mJ. LAJH, Hm In-L .n r}, u, ‘
rum ye Aral-[Arm 11., big)",
\In. lirwzn In”: lmll.
H W Lu' L.wHI‘.(
1‘ mr‘ u! thl mm", {I n : mm.

 

[h v w- HI .I ,r Hun,
mumme h.m..4.,

uhwv-rwt': nu"
mum I“. m. Luz.
l' ,1; rm;

. “dlul L‘ tuusl,
H. m- ul dc,“

 

 

\ H leh‘L «I‘m.
, m My ul um mun”:

 

my

 

l_\'!rl| ~n;.. In. .Al mm”.
'[L-L, lullu‘ w‘vm‘xm‘
,\l m mm L)..- luumn,
'e u: Aug 124.13.

          
      

on.

 
 

DIEIE PATRIOTIC SPEAKER, N0. 3.

Am-rlm to the world, 1"” PW} v'l "went,
1 a of uuuulry, 'ni‘h w  .,

a H! IaU-prurrvn- U:|fd‘..'$ ‘ u ix,
(MM-me, [um I. v. m- .
A, Kn uuckinu'n nppeul,‘. liligw l»iur General,
venue.” \lrmlfmfi, Th! 4m".

'l'u mm; is Iruuon, Uniun . ynru npuuchu,
Tue ulniu u “I” Uni ‘Hy

April 15m,334u, mr ru' u m
' .a win: at nu,

1 4: yrociqun Latin“,

    

 

   

L a ,: uu myl 4:,

Elihrvwn-l rm the war Pup.
Au hiuuzlv common-J, \ ’l‘uxnw Enhzium,
Zuxy min}, Hm! I» be u n 0 mm,

1' u ’r ‘ U: hull ‘t ‘M.
.“° “HP N ‘ "w ‘2'" "‘ ‘...--u.1|m...or'.

   

 

    

Hm: u‘r -mr, 30.1. l’ulT'I ‘ I
' 'nMa 1 a man, Pr u-L_ pqivnuw‘).
IA. \Vnnl'n mh , “erlllllul,
: . , ,-.. u ‘ l,
umtnIanmk, “2“: mm mm“

 
  

'1 - m-o and Juhu‘, , .
L1 qxpmcu, Vv I: AM

L-‘uuuy Mu,

 

[H'Uwv M Mr flu,
[21", Lira ||r-r'1.ilreSI."‘r at" Mr vm‘ :‘ u. m,
\\V-.rw»1n(l..r l‘uiun. ,
I...“ mu-mw ur bkyhun‘

‘

liner-1:. I my mum,

 

‘
K'u; Cu” 71.

mmlu unz. .;1_
11h: vqu v! pguca,

DIME COMIC SPEAKER, No. 4.

A unnznr wu,
“'nwl'l trip to IUchm’d, ('tmlh‘ firm.- mu‘. No. a.
I'nrudy,

'l‘im mnunhhflnk,

l .Illwmml inturunc,

\ wrumn on the (wt,
lyldduz Juan,

’I‘Im fishm’ mm,
Jinan U'Lilm.
\tv .chulur “kc! t'rnrimu :umflru-Meknn ‘ V
,W‘uu is my appuumul [llnAmudA-vn L4“ .1 u.

 

1. r .
l'Im Mar~ M n v ".4 true,

Frudnm t‘m w'a'r-‘wohfi

thy ..r Chunmu pr
erts,
ankav Dan" nrmxon,
« rum-u I‘m.
all um I:. , Tm, 1min“: .. \\'II’\'.
New hm n' ‘1 (‘w A fun-imnn’.‘ n-ibuu,
“mun, n..- nm.‘ umvn,
llmlir rMh-wlrul.
'l'la “ 5pcu-A leh'.

A. Dvu

 

   

 

 

 

 

mun] I‘nmplpfl-r‘h

I":|ruwvl| w u... hum...

 

u ulmnl.

\h. L’sdulinhm u wlh,
|'.|l.~ M n h u,
ITh.- .M. m"; Huh,

 

\ D'Ilrw (er-Mu
Lurluro mu 9 .m. NM.

NM DIME ELOCUTIONIST, N9, 5.

I. Pnltcxruq n' Tnv: EVI'VI‘X‘AT'fij.
All“ m ¢||u.|C'|.|L1-HI;‘ILHVLJ -.- u want.
A I'le‘s 'lnd oh:--r\‘vlu ms. '
1L Tm: Ant or Ullnunv.—§V "Myl-
nf Iha Pusinns. Tr:|:uynl|1;\ (Irv; ill"
Hunk-tiller .B\|!‘A'Hnur\‘.- I . VI -
y mun. .‘I-nlnd -r~
Melnrh 1y. .
qumrnc. C rump. [Ln-urn,

cum-n-ux‘hnz.

  
   
  

 

     

  

   

'mr,
Pridn. onuawv, “mum, (I
hurhidlinr. Am'r'uiugz. hfmx :. h Yr-r'nmiz
Azr xx.g,l-hharniuz.Judmng.}ppr;~ .M r
I Xinl, Hum-Inning. Teaculnu‘. l :uj- “IUIH‘L.
1“'L'uimr, Dlsluiu mt. llrfulixn ' muting, “z:
Uenduncaflr‘nnur linn,H‘ e Den-We. [.nvg. I
a. Givlnz,\\'nn-1Ir, A. mimn.m,l_.rmn_u a,
“H “in, Porunnainn. 'l'nn ‘ n Irnmilng,
“mama, slum. mmcum, Aug“, cm.

 

 

 

 
   

 

Tux (‘mwnu-w Euvvwn or IV
um‘mmu m n. "Hulk-vi l)
. “rupl’lu'v'

SC", "I.
“unma—vmmwrc
“'wvll and l‘hrux-I.
l'reriqinu. m nm-l -1 v... s”
h-nzthurSuuanrmt‘lmmmJ my, ln-n
Figurvn ul' . puerh: Hn- I‘lerIliu n, Ilw Nur:
linll‘ tlm l‘rnpnsihun, leu (Inninumlwu, LL.
10:! n ui'vu. Um I'vrnmvl n

SIC“. [\Z LHI'KHSRWATIV VIPV‘PWIQIV“'24W3|
pm Yuma —- Tmnliiion. .\ I'M-11m L U: '
runner. Sulilaquy 1-" Hmmr; m n n xvi
Linc :III; the (31111 nml Rv-llnnm‘; NM “1 l
(‘hnrgez ill-wry of A Ufa: Hm Huulc
Bella: Hyrm; Macbeth mnl lhu
Hummu fiyllloquy; 0M Thing:-
wnhi; King VViHilm Rufu

   
        
     

 

 

 

   

 

 

hauler ‘

       

Fun nm‘ Mulik: Imam-"le- at ()nlmo.
5-4. V. Ouannusa o: Goon Awnom

  

Dime School Series—Speakers.

DIME HUMOROUS SPEAKER, N0. 6.

A Ind awry, I

A tragic at vry,
Cuts

I) v\V, Jr.‘s lm'lures,
Exu nn-i echu,

How the mnuey goes,

July orntxon,
if you menu no, say no,
Jo Buns on [cup yunr,
Lay u! the heupecked,
Lat Skiunur’s elegy,

'Mutrlmmiy,

Nutlling to do,

'inuuhic women, .Olll Uuudlc‘s umbrella,

Umid~ll:vlill’c,
Uouiivh ix'lahcye
Srhln :iic t ‘
Hose:- bzgluw’s :»

IUId Grimealn sun,

:“ Puddle your own cu-
nus,"

Parody on “Araby’:
duughtcr,”

‘ ’mztry ruu mud,
Aiming or onion, liluu-ni-do-ri’s Fourth at'l Right nnznus,

The wa-nrpom.

Thu 3 (ml,

'l‘lic rhu-unuker,

Stiuntific incturel. I
The Lucr, -

[he cuckwy,

The cudfish,

Fate ULSergnunt Thin,
Tha ures’ qunrrul

The lln‘llll (iucxol’, ’

'l’hv wulcrlnl l.

Tu u.» bnchalon’uu'fil I h I

luugnn,

Unitul Sum-n Prpsitienh", '

.nn vmuhzhuc , ‘Vugnrics of pnppiny, min»

lluln

The hurp of u thnnnmi
strings,

The izmni llm I‘L‘pllitfi,

-'l‘|.:: iumrch In .‘ll-Scnu',

'l‘ln- in) sterivlm gucat,

Thu pump,

tilhlsiilm,

‘nnt l uouirlu'l be,
Ynnh c .iumtm Aluddm
Zc Malian-Luv,
193i}. ,

DIME STANDARD SPEAKER, N0. 7.

rizl we live in,
s cluhns.
Aullmns nl uur iiherty,
The re. muqucrur,
The titucn’a huritnge,

lmly,

Thu muclnmic,

Nuturv a: Nature’s God,

The modern good, [sum
Ossimi’s midi-9:4! to thr
Independer hull—X777
John Burns, Untlyahurg,
No sect in heaven,

Mia! Prude’u tea-putty,

Hon.J.i\I.Stuhbs' views
on the situation,
Huus Schwnukhaimar on
womuu'ssufi‘ruge,
All for n uomiuutiun,
Old Ocean, [50“,
The surmise aeu,theu1n-n
The nturhnngiud sqmnllcr
Silly where you hrlunu.
Life’s whut you make it,
Vthrc’n my mnne) ‘
,S rah frhm conneiuncu,
Nirn‘l rolution tonal-let)!
Th3 limit. to happiness,

‘The pnwu’ M nlillcu,

The beneficwcu of the
Suri'rngr, hen,
Dream of the revving,

I’l‘hu an iivun,

The true buhulur,
Judges not iuilillihle,
lfnumiciun,

The Bible, .
Tim pursn and the sword
My ruu'nlry, v

[rrium ‘i'ruu mural courage, ~

'HuwCyrus laid the cubicllustubility of mecchi'ui : \thc is wur?

l'l'he yretlieat liuud,
Parmioximi,

Liuie $4133th miller,
The net: i,

l’Fu-guy thoughts,

[The laldlen' mun,

Law,

The idler.

The unbuiiever,

iAgrieuliure,
I‘ulfllld,

h

[qua-r.
he people niwuya con-
01' | lur,
ml mutrin,
mm,
The lllnrney stone,
'l'hn nlulinni 4.1 “mm,
i‘ins broken huuxhuld,

l
Musi

DIME STUMP SPEAKER, N0. 8.

Guod-nntura u blessing,
Sm‘mou from hurd-uhell
’l'uil-eunlers, [Buntiu,
The vulim of numey,
Metenrh: disquiiitiuu,
liu sure _\‘uu me right,
We ui'gund rheur,
‘Crniuhe‘d l‘olhu, lilii‘uw,
’I‘uuxint; a in a nu l i u u
Fnrmcvs, [er-untry,
The truu greatness at our
N.l£uglnnd & tile Union,
The unseen mule-field,
Plan for the Republic,

DIME JUVENILE

A hoy'n philosnphy,

Hoe out your ruw,

Six-yenr-nlrl'n protest,

'I'he unicidal out,

A vnledictiou,

Popping corn,

The editor,

The mime, in rhyme,

Tho fairy shoemaker,
hntwn ieurued,

Tale of tlm tropics,
, Bromley’n speech,
Thu name, ucond extract
The fishur‘s child,
Bhnklpenrluu scholar,
A Muiden’l palm of ill»,
mixture,

Playinghuil,

Ah. wh) ,

Live for slum-thing.
Lay n! lhu hen-peckrll,
'i‘hu mum" ring,

\Vulf and lamb,

Lion in luv»,

l-‘rnxs risking for a king,
Sick linu,

Cnuntry and tnwn mice,
Mun nnd woman,
“mm,

The LUIliQ-Plflll‘lfl‘,
Litiiu thing

A Bni-y’s noxioquy,
Repentunre.

A pleu for 2512!.
Humbug patriotism,
Night unur Ch . mu,
Short legl,

 

hth . .‘

Shrimp: on umuumonu

Auierivu, [i:iilucy,
“Night 0! "union" A
Life’s iuusut,

Human nature,

L-iw rs,

W: ‘ sufillu inriinnn,
Ann.
.VIiseIu-sul wnr. [liberty
A Lay Sermon,

A dram",
Astrnnmnicul,

The inonn, [7.2115,
‘1)uties of Amaricuu citi~
ITlm mun,

blzicii.
A mutiu-r's wurk,
The xunm,
“'lw rulw.
A Nllrvll .xtnry,
A liltlv «'ur upmulL-ut,
()ue guml tum Ilriorven
My \ireuui, [nuothen
Rain,
1’“ new-r use tobacco,
A mosnir,
The oh] bnnhelnr,
Prxxver to light,
Lit: 1: im,
Angelina's lmnent,

Mercy,
Choice of hour»,
Poor Richard’l In ingl,

 

J

Johnnyshrinnpsun boot» The ocean storm

Butter,

My llein-mh Lee,

’l'hu rnru,

The pin nnd needle,
The mudrru Puritan,
linllxorlnlily of the was,
(lcuui-nlion,

Human. and during,

A nbot at the dumuwn

Temptations: of cities,

lirui‘eu resolutinm,

Tim“: is no druth,

Lieu,

A lv-uiu‘ni «morning,

A qurluunu'u niinue?
n

l in lluhnll “(Ann Unjuu )mtruxml nrqul

Thu mlmtuur couchumn,
The will wuter mun,
Permunrm:y at Slum,
Liler u! nx-ccch.

.lulm ’l‘hmnimun'l dnu’u
iIume-clunuiufl,

It is nut your Lulineu.

SPEAKER, No. 9.

How the run-u becnmo Nuthin]: (u do,

Hununiy but policy,

Heuvvu,

llo fur the fivldr,

li'unliil u on the brain.

0n Shnughnin,

A smile,

Cuslbiuucm

Hmumopnthic mup,

Nusa und eyes,

Mult, [com

A hund‘mi yvnn

Elm] inndmuu and hi
it: e wruwns, rn:

Snufliel on eieltriEityr"

The two crudlel, ’

Du thy lillln, doi’t Willy ‘
Little pul- ' "

Win uuod Tom . MM I

 

.11

u‘ 10$;th

:3sz School Series—Speakers.

DIME SPREAD-EAGLE SPEAKER, No. 10.

‘10» Dmtur‘s oratinn. ISpenking fwr tho Ibex-HI, Drum-hran nvrmors, H 'I‘mvntI r0.
“Ram Van hiring-IN nb,‘ Unlung a shweut, Szhmturl’sphill-oneda, "uing In Ihc Ituofi
Josh Billingl': nd 1 ice, {Then and now, “ Wonmn’l rkghh‘.’ manons.
I hard-shell ssrmun, Jonh Btllinzs’ lsetnring..Luko Luther, >lighllp‘ mixed,
llama, Dmlllll' Dom istar’n unn‘t‘ ’I‘hu bug, The «(hoe-neck“,
ha lquuxer, Unmiunmenn, Jurk S an”, Old huchuloru,
Noah md tha devil, “:er “Vrl, haw Lnulnnd tragedy, Wmnnn.
\ ‘2 A‘l-Iur’n luck. Dan Brynnt'n Ipmh, 'Ehu nmlunl hnchulur, ’l he Niun Ninml,
' ififznltltln Ad»! uhnl. A CuI-rrell View Jncuh Whiuln’n spueub, l‘uuph: will tu|k,
‘3 Dlmntion and ’nmdin, Original Maud Ifluller, Jurkl promo-than», Hwnrkhunmr’s hull,
Bial'modon’. di ndrnnt Nobody, r 1A wunl n ith Knooka, “'lxn uonkln't hu fln’n,
‘ 3mm; “gun, I‘rnin of circumstance; Snt Luulluuud, Ilhvn't du-peml nn and“
smhnhna Bon 1mm, "Un u ndv in-e. A mule 11.», fmri.‘ mm of h. n r.
.A‘sluct of mucus, 'l'ha itching pdm, Juah Billing: on Luz«.’l‘lu Amflcuu ensign

DIME DEBATER AND CHAIRMAN‘S GUIDE, IO. 11.

 

_ '[.. _nr,arn\u snnr.n'.Ԥummnry. an-liminmy m'gnuim- )Iiscvflnnmul, _
'5 Isa . like :unl usulnlmu, 1»L~cun1nMAN’s cumin} tun, Ercntnmm .q Faun"...
Formation m‘, Ordinary meetings mu] I‘l'l‘illIHntlll urgzxnizn- 'l'llu) decorum "Nebula,
Tnnntilmiun u‘ xuaexuhlh-n. Hun. Hum to n rhnlrmnn.
KyJ—ma uf, l‘lm organizathm. [The nrduf nf hminru, I xv.——nunu.
_ Rules uf gyvernvnpnt, Onlur ul‘ humncn and Lunsulurmg repuus, l‘n’£{)\glb‘l“li {Pf-I1: : ' ‘
lmles of unler proreedings, yen, e ., HC |_ s l n: 3923 us
Local rule: ordom’e, mm " Question." Howlm auln'inmn' monom,  band“ In lunmunlry
fillbjecu for dimmiun. 1 it run be trented, .jThn dnu older} I con- -lhe wnrrh-r, untu-
“-—|10W to Dr- nus. "I‘nc " Question." How mdvr‘m: quclnuns, mun, on you}!
Vhy then: In"! few good 1... be cumider d, Culmmtlcrs, _ Drunk-n m hm ‘
‘ . 3 ' debt-turn, ‘ {‘-hu to [he flmr, ‘Uhjnvlsufn ramnnltw, l. [a the rrnthm: o!
{3.rnflquinites to omtor- ,. ts of n » u-u‘xer nl"l'huir;mwcrn, wnrkl n! in nun tub.
,; in! means, ugnimt the c Mir. [low nnnml, cumlcnmml!

all“ I‘m“: hf debate, Cu] ling yen and M31, When nut tn a”, II. Are hm) vra n heu-
'- hu rhotnric of dehnto, Interrupting n mm, lulu)- uf cult-r and pro‘ efit 01 I mum to lo-
[Ilfll'u to nburve, Urmmitnlinm n1 holib» n'ulurc, ciclv!
° "WWW"! Pfe' erul‘n-e Ismlies, (‘un- lluw tu rppnvt, I v.—uuunn<m Asp
’ m “1 vvntinna, Annunl or The cunnnluu o! the I
* 9"“ 9' mum-AI. Gvnernl Anembliu, nholc, lL-mn.

PMMAI‘“.

DIME EXHIBITION SPEAKER, N0. 12.

“0 mm of the dny, Tim criticn) moment, Crnvulnflo, “"lfll "0 In in “I! Ii!-
“I’Ienlhen Chm“, The run nnd tlm want, All hull! '1‘ lul'hll‘t“
0 land wu lure, I: thum nny lllnm‘ in lt!‘llxnnnri nnlnn of “Iona, \‘\ lmt l wuh,
V at” “Ind”, ‘ Are m: a nation . I rit a} fivrfiivllellvll) (’1"g"lm“’;"m.Eflfi
‘ ‘ V‘ ' V t I 0
=n‘s'l“.:».“:.’.;i:"°"* m'.?3"'f.3'$}rx'ihmy, $3111??? “" "V" Sflll‘rnzn.
“A pin for Imdel. Thu pnlriat’schoice, 501M 0’ “INN 1," an'!“ "'9'
. 1' Stanislaus leivn- The fight nf the o l. Munifelt destiny, A.YI|VIHW o! mnnuun,
- P” P :i h
_  “30 I'W-‘iNY: The crowning glury. Let h nlunv! LINN “WEI? a. k,
"'V“ "R )3 The pumpkin, Distoncerlml candhlnte, Hun: Dunner \ urea
r “mm nlien ndv, When You’re down, Mnull Mnllur After ding, f l h
' I curse of one man W‘hnzkngi-mdhui«lanai Hunn Breltnmn.’ r} vkumn I001 Inc 0.
r WW". ~ The right nf nautmmy, What is true huppmm, Mary n'l the tnins,
11" "a"? of PM“ The muinnnl flag The lriuh vf It. A pm- A fluid In tho mm»,
0314), Our tnw tuture, , Ody. My “Ml” AdOIDh“

DDIE SCHOOL SPEAKER, No. 13.

' Pom": «mm. on ku-eflm’ M n, m.» (Inuit! were], jrho mldnlyht «an;
' 'llln Buxurdy‘. hull. Thu ummuu of flw ('ixilnm‘vxru mum, Ilmhfqu vuw_
’ a unwngvnlnl to" deep, 'l‘ha (rm-urnllun-nn, l|)()Ih\ lxtq-n—daltwdh
'll'unlnou. Rwy um], 'Thu (mgk pu. {mum former,
' V! for mlnothhm, 'l'lu- IIfVl'IUll‘ (night, unnun! rf‘uuon IIICKI Hm hurl,
' WM! and nligiuul In». \ much, A vr)‘ rm IMO, I m world,
~l ' y. 'l‘luruww'd th- truo Ir- Thu Innhmh. llvnntlfnl thoughts,
Md nfiaw of file bltor, ( “TIMI llnl, A plctuvu o! “In,
nrmvI Arinm-nmv. m| Wu, H.) trnc tn youml‘
"Mint: 6! polltla, darnnurin'mlmn’. dunth u whom wall In gm )0!an mun,
‘ J'lxq ,mnt nomnumn, (mmsuipkhm, thunk}! True ispnumg,
"Ith and which» A rnlmuonhe, R'Molnnnn,  m mm'u-I ol autumn.
I (“l-arming“, ' Sever mhnl, \‘lwllk nut hnnhly,
Manna-Inn. Th!- H‘bla. Amnaze,
” The Inn lay o! (In Mln-‘Chrlllli‘nnity var bul-‘Tha e'wrnnl lit,“
‘ ' * “rel war , .IV: or gum ,
mm. I'm“ '1‘” u. m' y lovcn, The mm: of an hour, Thailanth

 

 

Dunc Séhool Scrlca—Spcnk‘ u.

DIME DIALECT SPEAKER, No. 23.

um): L'mlmbe b any, My Birth-€16“
T‘w : n ' -:uLu).1LnucLAcd Blip—2.300,
i" ' ' Ls.

7;: Nt'z‘sd.
I, :

 

041': um.“ d. mum. A
rm; w“.an 4.5mm.
\ :n u— Lu"(vr In W

L) se .31. m 312:} In

        
        
    
     
   

g 4. K
P..‘ 0'} 2 th .' an -6
n.4u'. I} ""L

   

 
  
 
 
  

hp”: vi

i‘w‘zm .\ In."

 

.2. n. - “wt Green'a
A pundit awry. ‘ uumn,

DIME READINGS AND BECITATIONS, No. 24.

fun Iri-hmm‘u pa,- in: (In.
num‘ :' Ru: er s:
n. “gutting—- (1 turn Tnv

I”... Hum} a::‘ u we Emu
1!“,

km and 5‘: mi,

     
  
 
  
      
 

,W‘uen we can ("The
} ‘

   

 

 

(rm ‘,f C vrmL, ' 1 'riL \' z  ep-x'e.

Mm. la! .\1 r. 1:r..z,‘. ;. _h

J an Reed. 1 9-.

In (“Lanna IC i. n - . nges. '
(811(L, J v.“ 1‘ wpey Pl“ . 2.222

hum Mann's nub I l a] nun - '1" n m, 'y nup- Jtu M
1: MM, .. . h, A :um- - lihxt, L "um.

Ir; 1'11! nu quelii n :An n "viii-J: Cu 1.21.: The mum . >A: em; a uni.

 

"m “M; s uk‘m‘a u.«vu;¥:r.d¢.,u, I

 

.-.| L”. uu,‘ (4:1.3',

  

a r Thc 1h we bun an; mid by New-deal“: everywherc, or '31} 21 sent, paltry], ‘- fl
“1... on texeip‘ u! prim. m mum min.

smut AND “AIR, Pow-huh. .8 Wmlu. LY.

 

 
   

  
    
 

 

 

  
     

 

A €3.31? 3*”

 

,/
Dime School Scrub—Speak“ ta,

 

m_ “M.

DIME DIALECT SPEAKER, Na. 23.

Du 2’s Inn'- do lnllt‘r,
The Mishlulppl nnrucle,
Van tn lulu tour“: in,
Dune hum wt Mary hat

gut,
PM ()‘Fluhertj an vm~
mnu‘n rights,

Thu hums rulers, how
they “ spukm,”
Hemkluh IL on
Molhm'wlu-luw,
HA: didn‘t. null Lhu fun”,
f’hu Lu: “my of Frunh

lin'a kite,
i would 1 were u ho)

tgam
I pathe’tic non-y,

on

DIME READINGS AND BECITATIONS,

Pu Irinhmm‘n pano-
rama,

The lightning—rod ugvnt

The tragedy at {our we

l 5:,
Ruth and Naomi,
Carey of Canon,
Dullian,
J--hn Reed.
Thu brukemnu
elm-ch,
l‘uuun Moonh'a lur-
Him-“L,
Arguing the quantiun
"m W0“: and the can.

u

All about a bee,
Scnndal,

A durk side View,

Tc tser my,

0n urniug German,

Mnry’a :hnmll vile lamb:

A healthy discnurse,
l‘ohius In to spcak,
Uhl Mrs. Grimun,

A parody,

\lurn uml anti,

liill Umlurwuud, pilot,
llld Urnuluy,

l‘he pill paddler’a orn-‘Our
ll.)umlreur_\-‘n wisdum,
lust l’luin luuguugu by truth-

lil m,
W irlder
words,

Grun’a

The dim uld forest,
Rasher at home,

The Sergcuui‘a story,
David and Gullah,
Dreaming ul. four-core,

Rum,

Whv ahnuld the rplri
o mums) h» proud!
Thu rumlug mustache,

Thu unglneul'a slnry,

A xnudidnlu for prenl-
dcnl,

Run cull,

Latest Chinese outrugu,
Tho munitan destiny 01

um Irmumm,

Peggy Ml (2mm,

Sprnya from Josh Bil-
Hugs,

De ciruunnancm ob du-

Illiwuliou,

‘Dur’a nullin now under

de nun,

A Nauru religious poem,
l

vlnlm
mun delights,
r. ndidme'u View",

{ul June,

when the cuvu come
home,
The donation party,
'l'ummy Tn“,
A Mlchlgnnder
Frnute.
'01. one to spare,
Ina. llrgezy’a
lunch,
Rurk of men.
J. ('Jl‘snr Pompey
Squuuh’n sermon,
Annie’s lichzt,

in

pink

An nrconlion to tho The nawshuy,

 

faunlly,

PM'G corretpondenu.

 

My neighbor'l d
Condensed Mytho on;
I’lctue,

Thu Noreidu,
Legends of Altk‘n,
The nave-pips lrnueay

A dokeuu": druhhlel,

The cumng mun.

Thu illignnt nflair nI
Muldunu‘n, \

That little baby Tr
the corner.

A genuwiua lulercv

An im’ilntiun to
bird nf liberty,

The crow,

Out We“.

No.%

Death of th‘ uwd sqnlu

Meir: tog Shuaid,

At Elberon,

The cry ufwomnnhood,

The judgment dly,

Thu hum bubbla,

Curfew mun: nox rln.
:u-nlght,

The swell,

'l‘he wnter mlll,

Snm’n letter,

Foutuepa of thy dud.

Chuiw

An cuu'y on check.

0' 7' The nbuve book: are sold by Newldenlcrl everywhere, or wlll be sent, pmt-pald, to u‘
dam. on receipt of price, 10 canu each.

BEADLE AND ADAHS. Pubuahen. 98 William it... N. Y.

 

 

 

DIME POCKET NOVEIJS.

Puma-m SEMLloNTELY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.

19 The Specter Chief.
99 The War-Killer.
91 Wild Nat.

9a 01d Kent thelhnger.
9t Onevl ed Tn per.
95 Cedbo 11, the py.

90 The Black Shlp.

91 31 logy];

31 T Myatic Canoe.
I9 Th Gnldan Harpoon.
88 The Scalp King.

M 01d Lute.

N Bainbolt, Ranger.

‘0 The Huge Hunter.

41 wild Nat, Trapper.
a L nx-ca .

00 a Wh te Outlaw.
« The Dog Trailer.

0 The Elk Kln .

6| Adrian, the Hot.

(1 The Ian-hunter.

4! The Phantom Tracker
40 Hoeeaaln 8111.

ID The Wolf Queen.

[1 Ten: Hawk Trailer.
u 11:. Mm Chlef.

II The Black Wolf.

5‘ Arkanau Jack.

u Blackbeard.

I. The River Rifles.

H Hunter Ham.

DI Cloud-nod.

M The Tana Hawka.

O. Herclleaa Mat.

01 Had Ant’ony’l Soon"
0. Lucklaal Tr- per.

0. The Florida cout.
u The lalnnd Trapper.

I .
leck.
- e.
arid.
I The Yellow Hunter.
10 The Phantom rider.
'1 Delaware Tom.
1! Silver R1119.
II The Skeleton Scout.
N Little Rlflo.
'II The Wood Witch.
1. Old Bull, Trapper.

 

 

11 Scarlet Shouldarl.

18 Border Rifleman.

19 Outlaw Jack.

80 Tiger-Tall, Seminole.
81 Death-Dealer.

a, Kenton the Ranger.
83 8 cter omman.
BIT a Three Tripper].
85 Kalaolah.

u The Hunter Hercules.
8'1 Phil Hunter.

as The Indian Seout.

89 The Girl Avenger.

90 The Rad Hermite".
91 Star-Face the fill r.
on The Antelope Boy.
in The Phantom Hunter.
94 Tom Plutla. Pilot.

05 The Red Wlaard.

96 The Rival 'I‘rappere.
91 The Squaw Spy.

OB Dnaky Dick.

99 Colonel Crockett.

100 Old BoarPaw.

101 Redlew.

109 Wild Rube.

108 The Indian Hunton.
104 Scarred Eagle.

105 Nick Doyle.

106 The Indian Spy.

101 Job Dean.

108 The Wood Klng.

109 The Scalped Hunter.
110 Nick the Scout.

111 The Tax“ T1 or.
119 The Croaaed nlvea.
118 Tiger-Heart.

11‘ Marked Avenger.
115 The Pearl Fir-tel.
116 Black Panther.

111 Abdlel them-anger.
118 Cato.t e Cree er.
119 Two-Handed h at.
190 Mad Trail Hunter.
191 Black Nick.

199 Kit Bird.

193 The 8 :hr Eldon.
19‘ Giant etc.

195 The Girl Captain.
196 Yankee Enh.

191 Sllvenpur.

198 S uatter Dick.

199 T a Child Spy.

130 Mink Coat.

111 Red Plume.

189 Clyde, the Trailer.

 

133 The Lent Cache.

13‘ The Canulel Chief.

135 Kuraibo.

138 Scarlet Moecuh.

181 Kidnapped.

1:8 M1111 of the Moun-
h

n.
139 The Scloto Scoutl.

141 The Mule Chief.

149 Boone, the Hunter.
HI Mountain Kale.

1“ The Red Seal er.
145 The Lone Ch of.

146 The Silver Bugle.
141 Chin a, Cheyenne.
148 The angled TralL
149 The Unlean Hand.
150 The “In Indian.
151 The Branded Chi“.
159 Billy Bowl-

118 The Valley uk
16‘ Red Jacket.

116 The Jungle Scout.
156 Cherokee Chief.

151 The Bandit Hermit.
1671 The Patriot Scouta
159 Tha Wood Ranger-
160 The Red F00.

1111 Beautlful Unknown.
16! Canehrake More.
16! Hank, the Guide.
1“ The Border Scout.
165 Wild Nat.

100 Maid of Wyoming.
161 The Three Captlvu.
108 The Lon Hunter.
16’ Border Law.

110 The Lifted Trail.

111 The Trader Spy.

119 The Fore-t Specter.
11! The Border Face.
11‘ Border Vengeance.
1'15 Border Bea-is.

1‘10 The Sena of Liberty.
111 The Loat Bride.

118 Keeteea.

119 The Tonkawl Spy.
180 The Prairie Scourge.
181 Red 1.1 htnlng.

189 Brave eari.

188 Night-Hawk Kit.

186 The Red Outlaw.
181 The Swamp Scout.

 

188 The Shawnee’a F00.

1811 Mohawk Nut.

190 Old Jupe.

191 The Prairie Blflee.

199 Old Kyla, Trailer.

193 Big Foot. the Guide.

19‘ Red Brotherhood.

195 The Man in Green.

196 Glue-Eye, the Great
ShoL

191 The Prairie Trappera

19! Black John.

199 Keen-Knife.

900 Had Skipper.

901 The Young Spy.

909 The Indian Avenger.

90! Rival Lieutenanle.

904 The Swamp R111".

905 The Balloon Scruta.

906 Dacotah Scourge.

901 The Twin Seoutl.

908 Buchkln Bill.

909 Border Avengera.

910 Tim Bumble‘a Charge

911 The Shawnee Scout.

919 The Silent Slayer.

913 The Prairie Queen.

914 The Backwoodlmel.

915 The Prisoner of La
Vlntreaaa.

216 Pele: Smith.

911 The Witch of the
“r'ellowlah.

918 The Prairie Plraha.

‘219 The Huaaar Captain.

9-20 The Rad Spy.

991 Dlek Darling.

999 Multan; Human.

“193 Guilt or Not Guilty

9‘14 The utlaw Banger.

995 Schuyklll Range".

996 On the Deep.

991 lrona.

998 The Mountaineer.

999 The Hunter’a Eacape

980 The Golden Bell.

981 The Swan: Rider'-

931 Jabel Haw .

93! Maelaaolt'a Daughter

98‘ The Mad Hunter.

936 The Reefer 01’76.

918 Anklope Aha.

931 The ‘lunter’a Vow.

938 .‘ha Hunter’a Pledge

939 Rattlepate.

M0 The Prairie Bride.

TH! NLLOWING WILL BE ISSUED IN THE ORDER AND ON THE DATES IN DICATED:

“1 01d Grinly, the Ben- Tuner.
I‘D‘ragoona.

m The Dnahln
M4 Dnahln‘ chk.

g}  Coomaa.

Frederick H. Dewey.
Ready October 80 .

Read October 16:11.

'45 Old Oroaallre. Bv Captein Charlea Howard. Ready November 14111.

848 Ben Bramble.

MT The Brigand Captain.
.48

Old Strut .

The ’1‘
I58 gebrn Zack.
I54 he Mall-(ed
855
“6 0 Boy Spy.

. year (at Noe.) ".50.

By Henry J. Thomaa.
By Albert W. Aiken.

Meueng
he Brethren of the Count. By John
By 011 Cocmaa. Ready April lbth.

For sale by all Newadealara; or aent poet-paid: alngle numben,

Oll Coomaa.

0r.

Ready November 91th.
Ready December 11th.
Ready December Nth.

B W. J. Hamilton.
’50 era. By auph E. Badger, Jr.
.51 The Rival Hun era. By Edward 8. E1111.
.5. exnn Scout. By Harr Hanard. Ready ebruary mh.
By W. J. Haml ton.‘ Read
By Herrick ohnaloue.

Ready January 8th.
Road February uh.

March «1:.
Ready Maul: 181.11.
8. Warner. Ready April lat.

Ready January 59d.

By Captain Bruln Adama. ReusiSeptember 18111.
By C. Dunning Clark. Ready October

ten cum; le month. (1!Noa.).1.15

BRAD“ All) “All, Publlahen, 98 Will“. Itmt. New York.