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THE LONG TRAIL

A LEGEND OF THE FAR WEST.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

NEW YORK :

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET. v

 

    
 
 

 

    

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BEADLB AND COMPANY. ,
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Southern Dim'lct of New York.

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1g of the first stone could have opened the way for the second,

  

_THE LONG TRAIL.

CHAPTER I.

THE SEA DOW.

 

 

Ye who love the haunts of nature,
Love the sunshine of the meadow,
Love the shadow of the forest,
Love the wind among the branches.
And the rain-shower and the snow-stein.
And the rushing or "rent rivers.
Listen to these wilftrsditions—Hnwnas.
On day in the spring of 1820, a singular occurrence took
place on one of the upper tributaries of the Mississirpi
The bank, some fifteen or twenty feet in hight, descended
qmte abruptly to the stream‘s edge. Though both short: ware
lined with dense forest, this particular portion possessed only
several sparse clumps of shrubbery, which seemed like a breath-
ing-space in this sea of verdure—s gate in the magnificent
bulwark with which nature girts her streams. This green

area commanded a view of several miles, both up and down

stream.

Had a. person been observing this open spot on the after-
noon ot' the day in question, he would have seen a large bowl-
der suddenly roll from the top of the bank to bound along
down the green declivity and fall into the water with a loud

'spl Lsh. This in itself was nothing remarkable, as such things

are of frequent occurrence in the great order of things, and
the tooth of time easily could have gnawed away the few
crumbs of earth that held the stone in poise.

Scarcer five minutes had elapsed, however, when a. sccon
bowider rolled downward in a manner precisely similar to It:
predecessor, and tumbled into the water with a rush that re-
sounded across and across from the forest on either bank.

Even this might have occurred in the usual coursefo!
things. Stranger events take place every day. The loosen;

  

10 THE LOST TRAIL.

although a suspicious observer might naturally have asch
why its fall did not follow more immediately.

But, when precisely the same interval had elapsed, and I
third stonefollowed in the track of the others, there could I).
no question but what human agency was concerned‘in are
matter. It certainly appeared as if there were some inw'nt in
all this. In this remote wilderness, no white man or Indian
would find the time or inclination for such child’s play, unless
here was a. definite object to be accomplished.

And yet, scrutinized from the opposite bank, the lynx-eye
of a veteran pioneer would have detected no other sign of
the presence of a human being than the occurrences that we
nave already narrated; but the most inexperienced person
would have decided at once upon the hiding-place of him who
had given the moving impulse to the bodies.

Just at the summit of the bank was a mass of shrubbery
of sufficient extent and density to conceal a dozen warriors;
And within this, beyond doubt, was one person, at least, con
cealed; and it was certain, too, that from his hiding-place, ho
was peering out upon the river. Each bowlder had emerged
i'rom this shrubbery, and had not passed through it in its

downward course; so that their starting-point may now be

considered a settled question.

Supposing one to have gazed from this stand-point, what
would have been his field of vision? A long stretch of river
—a vast, almost interminable extent of forest—a faint, far-oil“
glimpse of a mountain peak projected like a thin cloud against
the blue sky, and a solitary eagle that, miles above, was bath-
ing his plumage in the clear atmosphere. Naught else?

Close under the opposite shore, Considerably lower down
than the point to which we first directed our attention, may
be descried a dark object. It is a small Indian canoe, in
which are seated two white men and a female, all of wlunn
are attired in the garb of civilization. The young man near
the stem is of slight mold, clear blue eye, and a prepossess
ing countenance. He holds a- broad ashen paddle in his hand
with which to assist his companion, who maintains. his prox-
imity to the shore for the purpose of overcoming more deftly
me‘opposition of the current. The second personage is t
  squmshouldered Irishman, with massive hm;

 
   

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A canoe on Tue MISSISSIPPI. 15 ‘

arms like the piston-rods of- an engine, and a broad, goodne,
tux-ed face. He is one of those beings who' may be aptly
termed “ machines," a patient, plodding, ox—like creature who
takes to the most irksome labor as a flail takes to the sheaf:
on the threshing-floor. Work was his element, and nothing,
it would seem, could tire or overcome those indurated mus
ties and vice-like nerves. The only appellation with which In
was ever ‘(nown to be honored was that of “ Teddy."

Near the center of the canoe, which was of goodly size
and straight, upon a bed of blankets, sat the wife of the
young man in the stern. A glance would have uissipated the
slightest suspicion of her being any thing other than a willv
ing voyager upon the river. There was the kindling eye and
glowing cheek, the eager look that flitth hither and yen, and
the buoyant feeling manifest in every movement, all of which
expressed more of enthusiasm than of willingness merely.
Her constant questions to her husband or Teddy, kept up a.
continual run of conversation, which was now, for. the first
time, momentarily interrupted by the occurrence to which we
hat/e alluded.

At the moment we introduce them, the young man was
holding his paddle stationary and gazing ofi‘ toward his right,
where the splash in the water denoted the fall of the third
stone. His face wore an expression of puzzled urprise, min-
gled with which was a look of displeasure, as if he were “put
out " at this manifestation. His eyes were fixed with a keen,
searching gaze upon the river-bank, expecting the appearance
of something more

Teddy also was resting upon his paddle, and scrutinizing
the point in question; but he seemed little affected by what
had taken place His face was as expressionless as one of
the bowlders, save the ever-present look of imperiurhable good
humor.

The young woman seemed more absorbed than either of
her companions, in attempting to divine this mystery that Leo
so suddenly come upon them. More than once she raised hm
hand, as an admonition forTeddy to preserve silence. Finally,
however, his impatience got the better of his obedienee, and
M'hroks the oppressive stillness:

“And what does ye mew of' it, Miss Comer W;

  

 

 

  

1’ ' m Los'r nun.

Harvey l’” he asked, after a few moments, dipping his paddle
at the same time in the water. “ Arrah, now, has either of
ye saan anything more than the same bowlders thcre ?”

“No,” answered the man,“ but we may; keep a bright
ook~out, Teddy, and let me know what you see.”

The Irishman inclined his head to one side, and closed one
lye as if sighting an invisible gun. Suddenly he exclaimed,
with a start:

“ I see something now, sure as a Bally-ma-gorrah wake.”

“ What is it 1’”

“The sun going down in the west, and tilling us we’ve no
time to shpare in fooling along here.”

“Teddy, don’t you remember day before yesterday when
we eame out of the Mississippi into this stream, we observed
something very similar to this ?"

“ An’ what if we did, zur? Does ye mane to say that a
rock or two can’t git tired of layin’ in bed for a thousand
years and roll around like a potaty in a garret whin the floor
isn’t stiddy ?”

“ It struck us as so remarkable that we both concluded it
must have been caused purposely by some one.”

“ Me own opinion was, ye remember, that it was a lot of
school-boys that had run away from their master, and were
indulging themselves in a little shport, or that it was the bears
at a shindy, or that it was something else.”

“ Ah! Teddy, there are times when jesting is out of place,”
said the. young wife, reproachfully; “ and it seems to me that
when we are alone in this vast wilderness, with many and
many a long mile between us and a white settlement, we
should be grave and thoughtful."

“ I strives to be so, Miss Cora, but it’s harder than paddling
this cookie-shell of a canoe up-shtream. My tongue will wag
jist as a dog’s tailivhen he can’t kape it still."

The face of the Irishman were such a long, woe-begono
expression, that it brought a smile to the face of his compan-
ions. Teddy saw this, and his big honest blue eyes twinkled
with humor as he glanced upward from beneath his hat. '

“ I knows yees wage for me, Misther Harvey and Min

, Dora, ivory night and morning of your blessed life, but I’m
M your prayers will do as- little good for Teddy as till

a. w—rtvm 

  

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TEE case: on A 11mm 18

inch-warrant did for Micky, the praist’s boy, who stole the
praist’s shirt and give it away because it was 10n——”
, u  I”

From the very center of the clump of bushes of which we
have made, mention, came a white puff of smoke, followed
immediately by the faint but sharp report of a rifle. ".‘ke
bullet’s course could be seen as it skipped over the surfat‘e of

he water, and finally dropped out of sight.

“ What do you say, now ‘2” asked the young man. “ Isn't
that proof that we‘ve attracted attention ‘3”

“ So it saams; but, little dread need we have of disturbance
if they always kaap at such a respictable distance as that.
Whisht, now! but don’t ye saa those same bushes moving?
There’s some one passing through them i Mebbe it’s a shadow,
mebbe it’s the divil himself. If so, here goes alter the
imp I”

Catching up his rifle, Teddy discharged it toward the bank,
although it was absolutely impossible for his bullet to do more
than reach the shore.

“ That’s to show the old gintleman we are ready and ain't
frightened, be he the divil himself, or only a few of his chil-
dren, that ye call the poor Injuns l" x ,

“ And whoever it is, he is evidently as little frightened
as you; that shot was a direct challenge to us."

“ And it‘s accepted. Hooray! Now for some Limerick ex-
ercise l"

Ere he could be prevented, the Irishman had headed his
canoe across stream, and was paddling with all his might
toward the spot from which the first shot had been fired.

“ Stop 1” commanded his master. “It is fiiolhardiness, on a
par with your general conduct, thus to run into an undefined
danger.”

Teddy reluctantly changed the course of the boat and said
nothing, although his face plainly indicated his disappoint
ment. He had not been mistaken, however, in the suppo.
sition that he detected the movement of some person in the
nhrubbery. Directly atter the shot had been fired, the bushes
were agitated, and a gaunt, grim-visaged man, in a half-hunter
Ind halticivilized dress, moved a few feet to the right, in.

manner which showed that he was indifi'erent as to whether

 

  

  

1‘4 meoer

or not he was observed. He looked fOflL as if to ascertain
the result of his fire. The man was very tall, with a face by
no means unhaudsome, although it was disfigured by a settled
scowl, which better befitted a savage enemy than a white
Friend. He held his long rifle in his right hand, while he
drew the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth a
the canoe.

“I knew the distance was too great," he muttered, “ bu
you will hear. of me again, Harvey Richter. I’ve had a 1
dozen chances to pick you off since you and your friends
started up-stream, but I don‘t wish to do that. No, no, not
that. Fire away; you can do me no more harm than I can
you, at this moment.”

Allowing the bushes to resume their Wonted position, the
stranger deliberately reloaded his piece and as deliberately
walked away in the wood.

In the mean time, the voyagers resumed their journey and
were making quite rapid progress up-stream. The sun was
already low in the sky, and it was not long before darkness
began to envelop wood and stream. At a sign from the
young men, the Irishman headed the canoe toward shore. In
a few moments they landed, where, if possible, the wood was
more dense than usual. Although quite late in the spring,
the night was chilly, and they lost no time in kindling a good fire.

The travelers appeared to act upon the presumption that
there were no such things as enemies in this solitude. Every
night they had run their boat in to shore, started a fire,
and slept soundly by it until morning, and thus far, strange
as it may seem, they had suffered no molestation and had
seen no signs of ill-will, if we except the occurrences already
related. Through the (lay, the stalwart arms of Teddy, with
occasional assistance from me more delicate yet firm muscle!
of Harvey, had plied the paddle. No attempt at conceal‘
‘ment was made. On several occasions they had landed a
the invitation of Indians, and, alter smoltingvand presenting
them with a few trinkets, had departed again, inpeaoe-nd
good-will.

. Not to delay information upon an important point, we my
rm that Harvey Richter was a young minister who hedon-
wfintly been-appointed misionaryto'the Indians. The ow

 

 

 

 

 

  

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members of his denomination, while movements were on {on
concerning the spiritual welfare of the heathen in other parts.
of the world, became convinced that the red-men of the
American wilds were neglected, and conceding fully the force
of the inference drawn thence, young men were induced to
ofi‘er themselves as laborers in the savage American vineyard
Great latitude was granted in their choice of ground~— ln'in,‘
’ llswed an area of thousands upon thousands of square miles
over which the red-man roamed in his pristine barbarism
The vineyard was truly vast and the laborers few

While his friends selected stations comparatively but a
short distance from the bounds of civilization, Harvey Richter
decided to go to the Far North-west. Away up among the
grand old mountains and majestic olitudes, hugging the rills
and streams which roll eastward to feed the great continental
artery called the Mississippi, he believed lay his true sphere
of duty. Could the precious seed be deposited there, if even
in a single spot, he was sure its growth would be rapid and
certain, and. like the little rills, it might at length become the
great, steadily-flowing source of light and life.

Harvey Richter had read and studied much regarding the
American aborigines. To choose one of the wildest, most ’
untamed tribes for his pupils, was in perfect keeping with his
convictions and his character for courage. Hence be selected
the present hunting-grounds of the Sioux, in upper Minnesota
Shortly before he started he was married to Cora Brandon,
whose devotion to her great Master and to her husband would
have carried her through any earthly tribulations. Although
she had not urged the resolution which the young minister
had taken, yet she gladly gave up a luxurious home and kind
friends to hear him company.

l There was yet another whose devotion to the young mis-
sionary was scarcely less than that of the faithful wife. We
refer to the Irishman, Teddy, who had been a favorite sol mat
for many years in the family of the Richters. Having fully
determined on sharing the fortunes of his young master, it
would have grieved his heart very deeply had he been let}
behind. He received the announceth that he was to be i
 00111an of the young man. with an. expression «1
modnifluuat’hb enduredhioloy. g ' ,:

  

  

    

to ‘ mmos'r run.

“Be jebers, but Teddy McFadden is in luck l"

And thus it happened that our three friends were ascending
one of the tributaries of the upper Mississippi on this balmy
day in the spring of 1820. They had been a long time on
the journey, but were now nearing its termination. They had
learned from the Indians daily encountered, the precise loca-
tion of the large village, in or near which they had decided
o unke their home for many and many a year to come.

After landing, and before starting his fire, Teddy pulled tht
canoe up on the bank. It was used as a sort of shelter by
their gentler companion, while he and his master slept out-
side, in close proximity to the camp-fire. They possessed a
plentiful supply of game at all times, for this was the Paradise
of hunters, and they always landed and shot what was
needed.

“ We must be getting well up to the northward," remarked
the young man, as he warmed his hands before the fire.
" Don’t you notice any difference in the atmosphere, Cora ‘2”

“ Yes; there is a very perceptible change."

“ It this illigant fire only keeps up, I‘m thinking tnere’ll be
; considerable difference afore long. The ways yees be
twisting and doubling them hands, as if ye had hold of some
delightsome soap, spanks that yecs have already discovered a
difference. It is better nor whisky, fire is, in the long run,
providin’ you don’t swaller it—the fire, that is.”

“ Even if swallowed, Teddy, fire is better than whisky, for
fire burns only the body, while whisky burns the soul," an-
swered the minister.

“ Arrah, that it does; for I well remimbers the last swig I
took a’most burnt a hole in me shirt, over the bosom, and
they say that is where the sowl is located.”

“ Ah, Teddy, you are a sad sinner, I fear,” laughingly ob
Served Mrs. Richter, at this allusion.

“ A std sinner! Divil a bit of it. I haven’t seen the day
for twinty year whin I couldn‘t dance at me grandmother’l
wake, or couldn’t use a shillalah at me father's fourteenth
vwoddin‘. Teddy sad 1' Well, that is a—is a—a mistake,” md
*the injured fellow further expressed his feelings by piling on
’ 1» fuel until-he had a fire large enough to hovel-ousted s
battalion of prime beeves, had they been'spitted  k '

    

 

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Darkness at length fairly settled upon the weed and stream;
the gloom around became deep and impressive. The inevi
table haunch of venison was roasting before the roaring fire,
Teddy watching and attending it with all the skill of an ex-
perienced cook. While thus engaged, the missionary and hi!
wife were occupied in tracing the course of the Mississippi
and its tributaries upon a pocket map, which was the chief
' guide in that wilderness of streams and “tributaries.” Who
could deny the vastness of the field, and the loud call for la-
borers, when such an immense extent then bore only the
name of “ Unexplored Region !” And yet, this same head-
water territory was teeming with human beings, as rude and
uncultivated as the South Sea Islanders. What were the
feelings of the faithful couple as their eyes wandered to the
lefi of the map, where these huge letters confronted them, we
can only surmise. That they felt that ten thousand self-sacri-
ficing men could be employed in this portion of the country
we may well imagine.

As the evening meal was not yet ready, the missionary
folded the map and fell to musing—musing of the future he
had marked out for himself; enjoying the sweet approval of
his conscience, higher and purer than any enjoyment of earth
All at once came back the occurrence of the afternoon, which
had been absent from his thoughts for the hour past. But,
now that it was recalled, it engaged his mind with redoubled
force.

Could he be assured that it was a red-man who had fired
the shot, the most unpleasant apprehension would be dissi~
pated; but a suspicion would haunt him, in spite of himself,
that it was not a red-man, but a white, who had thus signified
his hostility. The rolling of the stones must have been sim-
ply to call his attention, and the rifle-shot was intended for
nothing more than to signify that he was an enemy.

And who could this enemy be? If a hunter or an adven-
ltner. would he not normally have looked upon any of hi!
em: race, whom he encountered in the wilderness. as him
ftiends, and have hastened to welcome them? What could
have been more desirable than to unite with them in a coun-
try where whites Were 50 scarce, and almost unknown? Wu
K not contrary to all reason to suppose that 'a- hermit a"

 

:3 THE Los'r nun.

misanthrope would have penetrated thus far to avoid his bro-
ther man, and would have. broken his own solitude by thus be-
mying his presence?

Such and similar were the questions Harvey Richter asked
himself again and again, and to all he was able to return an
answer. He had decided who this strange being might pos-
sibly be. If it was the person suspected, it was one whom
he'had met more frequently than he wished, and he prayed
that hemight never encounter him again in this world.
certainty that tho manhad dogged him to this remote spot in
the West; that he had patiently plodded after the travelers
for manya day and night; that even the trackless river had
not sufliced to place distance between them; that, undoubt-
edly, like some wild beast in his lair, he. had Watched Richter
and his companions as they sat or slumbered near their camp-
fire—these, we may well surmise, served to render the mis-
sionary for the moment excessively uncomfortable, and to (lull
the roseate hues in which he had drawn the future.

The termination of this train of thought was the sudden
suspicion that this very being was at that moment in close
proximity. Unconsciously, Harvey rose to the sitting posi-
tion and looked around, half expecting to descry the too well
remembered figure.

“Supper is waiting, and so is our appetites, be the same
token in your stomachs that is in mine. How bees it with
yourself, Mistress Cora i”

The young wife had risen to her feet, and the husband was
in the act of doing the same, when the sharp crack of a rifle
broke the stillness, and Harvey plainly heard and felt the
whiz of the bullet as it passed before his eyes.

“ To the devil wid yer nonsense l" shouted Teddy, furiously
springing forward, and glaring around him in search of th
author of the welhnigh fatal shot. Deciding upon the quar
er whence it came, be seized his ever-ready rifle, which he
had learned to manage with much skill, dashed 011’ at thc
top of his speed, not heeding the commands of his master,
nor the appeals of Mrs. Richter, to return.

Guided only by his blind rage, it happened, in this instance,

‘lhut the Ii'islunan proceeded directly towaid the spot where
' ‘M hunter baJ concealed himself, and came so very neu that

The K

 
   

 
   

   

 

 

mm! AND rm: Hunt». 4!
me latter was cow gelled to rise toA‘t feet 5‘ supe being
trampled upon. Teddy caught the ominn at a tall form
tearing hurriediy through the wood, as if in terror of being
caught, and be. bent all his energies toward overtaking him.
The gloom of the night, that had now fairly descended, and
the peculiar topography of the ground, made it an exceedingly
difficult matter for both to keep their feet. The fugitive,
catching in some obstruction, was thrown flat upon his face
but quickly recovered himself. Teddy, with a shout of exult ,
atlon, sprung forward, confident that he had secured their
persecutor at last, but the Irishman was caught by the same
obstacle and “floored” even more completely than his env
any.

“ Bad luck to it !” he exclaimed, frantically scrambling to
his feet, “ but it has knocked me deaf and dumb. I'll have
ye, owld haythen yit, or me name isn’t Teddy McFadden, of
Limerick downs."

Teddy’s fall had given the fugitive quite an advantage, and
as he was fully as fleet of foot as the Irishman, the latter was
luable to regain his lost ground. Still, it wasn’t in his nature
to give in, and he dashed forward as determinedly as ever.
To his unutterable chagrin, however, it was not long befow
he realized that the footsteps of his enemy were gradually
hemming more distant. lIis rage grew with his adirersary’l
gradual escape, and he would have pursued had he been oer. /
tain of rushing into destruction itself. All at once he made a
second fall, and, instead of recovering, went headlong down
into a gully, fully a dozen feet in depth.

Teddy, stunned by his heavy fall, lay insensible for some
fifteen or twenty minutes. He returned to consciousness‘with
a ringing sensation in his ears, and 'it was some time before
he could recall all the circumstances of his predicament
Gradually the facts dawned upon him, and he listened. Every
thing was oppressiver still. He heard not the voice of his
master, and not even the sound of any 0'. the lenizens ‘ot the
Wood.

His first movement was to feel for his rifle, which ’ he has!
, brought with him in his descent, and‘whichhe {C and clone I!
hand. In the act of rising, he caught the sounds! s foot-

,Itap, ondvisaxvhat the same instant, the outlines of‘a'W

  

  

  

    

I) was near mm

that he knew at once could be no other than the man whom
he had been pursuing. The hunter was about a dozen feet
distant, and seemed perfectly aware of the Irishman‘s presence.
for he stood with folded arms, facing his pursuer. The dark-
ness prevented Teddy’s discovering any thing more than his
enemy’s outline. But this was enough for a shot to d(- it:
work. Teddy cautiously brought his rifle to his shoulder, and
ifled the hammer. Pointing it at the breast of his adversary
o as to be sure of his aim, he pulled the trigger, but there
was no response. The gun either was unloaded, or had been
Injured by its rough usage. The dull click of the lock reached
the ear of the target, who asked, .in a low. grufl‘ voice:

“ Why do you seek me? You and I have no quarrel.”

“A purty question, ye murtherin’ haytheni I’ll settle with
yees, if yees only come down here like a man. J ist play the
wolf and belave me a sheep, and come down here for your
supper.”

“My quarrel is not with you, I tell you, but with your
psalm-singing master—"

“ And ain't that mosey?” interrupted Teddy. “ What’s

' mine is his, and what’s his is mine, and what’s me is both,
and what’s both is me, barring neither one is my own, but all
belong to Master Harvey, and Miss Cora, God bless thtir
souls. Don’t talk of quarreling wid him and being friendly
to me, ye murtherin’ spalpeen! J ist come down here a bit, 1
say, if ye‘s got a spick of honor in yer rusty shin."

“ My ill-will is not toward you, although, I repeat, if you
step in my way you may find it a dangerous matter. You
think I tried to shoot you, but you are mistaken. Do you

_ suppose I could have come as near and missed without doing
JD on purpose I To-night I could have brought you and you!
master, or his wife, and sent you all out of the world in a
twinkling. I’ve roamed the woods too long to miscarry at a
dozen yards.”

Teddy began to realize that the man told the truth, yet i
can not be said that his anger was abated, although a strong
curiosity mingled with it.

I, ‘ “ And what’s yer mison for acting in that shtyle, to as good
‘ 5 man as iver asked God's blessing on a sunny morning, and

whowonldn’t tread onone ofyer corns,that is,“ ye hit

 

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A stem 1N 1m: wrwnnnasa 21

by. isn’t all cores, like a toad’s back, as I suspict, item the
manner in which ye leaps over the ground.” '

“He knows who I am, and he knows he has given me
good cause to remind him of my existence. He can tell you.
if he chooses; I shall not. But let yoursef and him take
warning from what you already know.”

“ And be the same token, let yourself be taking warning
A: sure as I’m the ninth son of- the seventh mother, I’ll--

The hunter was gone!

CHAPTER II.

THE ADVENTURES‘OF A NIGHT.

Tax echoing rock. the rushing flood.

The cataract’s swell. the moaning wood;

The undefined and mingled hume—

Voice of the desert never dumb l

All these have left within this heart

A feeling tongue can ne‘er lnipart;

A wildered and unearthly flame,

Asomcthing that‘s without a name.—EI"K‘BI'CK Sum

Wrm extreme difliculty, Teddy made his way out of the
ravine into which purposely he had been led by the hunter.
He was mu of aches and pains when he attempted to walk,
and more than once was compelled to halt to ease his bruised
limbs.

As he painfully made his way back to the camp he did
a vast deal of cogitation. When in extreme pain of body,
produced by a mishap intentionally conceived by another, itil
but following the natural law of cause and effect to feel a
certain degree of exasperation toward the evil-door; and, an
the Irishman at every step experienced a sharp twinge that 03-
times made him cry out, his ejaculations were neither con
ceived in charity nor littered in good-will toward all men.
Still, he pondered deeply upon what the hunter had said, and
was perplexed to know what could possibly be its meaning.

The simple nature of the Irishman was unable to fathom
the mystery. He could not have believed, even .had Ha.qu
Richter himself confessed to having perpetrated a Brine or'e

 

    

8% THE Los'r man.

wrong, that the minister had been guilty of any thing In.
etent, to give cause of enmity. The strange hunter whom
they had’ unexpectcdy encountered several times, must be
some crack-brained adventurer, the victim of a fended
wrong, who, most likely, had mistaken Harvey Richter fur
mother person.

What could be the object in firing at the missionary, yet
.khzg pains that no harm should be inflicted? That was
miller impenetrable mystery; but, let it be comprehensible

or not, the wrathful servitor inwardly vowed that, if the man
crossed the path of himself or his master again, and the oppor-
tunity ofl’ered, he should shoot him down as he would a wild
animal.

In the midst of his absorbing reverie, Teddy suddenly
paused and looked around him. He was lost. Shrer
enough to understand that to attempt to extricate himself
would only lead into a greater entanglement, from which it‘
might not be possible to escape at all, he wisely concluded to

\ remain where he was until daylight. Gathering a few twigs
' and leaves, with his well-stored “ punk-box ” he soon started
a small fire, by the light of which he collected a sufficient
quantity of fuel to last until morning.

Few scenes of nature are more impressive than a forest at
night. That low deep roar, born of silence itself—the sad
sighing of the wind—the tall, column-like trunks, resembling
huge scntinels keeping guard over the mysteries of ages—~the
silent sea of foliage overhead, that seems to shut in a world
of its own—all have an influence, peculiar, irresistible and
sublime

The picket upon duty is a prey to many an imaginary
danger. The rustling of a leaf, the crackling of a twig, the
flitting shadows of the ever-changing clouds, are made to us-
lume the guise of a foe, endeavoring to steal upon him nna«
wares. Again and again Teddy was certain he heard the
stealthy tread of the strange hunter, or some pro“ ling
Ipdian, and his heart throbbed violently at the expected
pneOunter. Then, as the sound ceased, a sense of his utter
loneliness ca’me’over him, and he pined for his. old home 1:
Gates, which he had to lately left. I

' K'fieinu'm wan, which came Minty through the 

    

 
 

 

TEDDsz BLUMBEBB DISTURBED. ”

of the boundless woods, reminded him that there were other
Inhabitants of the solitude besides human beings. At such
times, he drew nearer to the tire, as a child would draw near
to a. friend to shun an imaginary danger.

But, finally the drowsy god asserted himself, and the
watcher passed off into a deep'slumber His last recollection
was a dim consciousness of hearing the tread oi something
near the camp-tire. But his stupor was so great that he had
not the inclination to arouse himself, and with his face buried
.n the leaves of his bushy conch, he quickly lost. cognizance
at all things, and floated of into the inimitable realms of
sleep—Sleep, the sister of Death.

He came out of his heavy slumber from feeling something
snufling and clawing at his shoulder. He was wide awake at
once, and all his faculties, even to his anger, were aroused.

“ Git out. ye owld serpent!” he shouted, springing to his
feet. “ Git out, or I’ll smash yer head the same as I smashed
the assassiu's, barring I didn’t do it i"

The afl‘righted animal leaped back several yards, as lightly
as a shadow. Teddy caught only a glimpse of the beast, but
could plainly detect the phosphorescent glitter of his angry
eyes, that watched every movement. The Irishman’s first
proceeding was to replenish the fire. This kept the creature
at a safe distance, although he began trotting around and
around, as if to seek some unguarded loop-hole through which
to compass the destruction of the man who had thus in-
vaded his dominions.

The tread of the animal resembled the rattling of rain~
drops upon the leaves, while its silence, its gliding motion,
convinced the inexperienced Irishman of the brute’s exceed-

:ineg dangerous character. His rifle was too much injured to

06 of, use and he could therefore only keep his precocious foe
at a safe distance by piling on fuel until the camp-fire burned
defiantly.

There was no more sleep for Teddy that night. He had .
received too great a shock, and the impending danger was too
Imminent for him to do any thing but watch, so long as dark;
m and the animal remained. Several times he thought

' ’ was evidence of the presence of another many.»

' so discover‘it, s‘n‘d ‘flhally believed hehad  misth

 

  

rm: Los'r 'rnan.

‘ It was a tiresome and lonely occupation, this incessant

watching, and Teddy had recourse to several expedients to
while away the weary hours. The first and most natural was
that of singing. He trolled forth every song that he could
recall to remembrance, and it may be truly said that he awoke
echoes in those forest-aisles never before heard there. As in
the pauses he heard the volume of sound that seemed quiver-
ing and swaying among the tree-trunks, like the confined air
In an organ, he was awed into silence.

    

“ Whist, ye son of Patrick McFadden; don. t ye hear the V

responses all around ye, as if the spirits were in the organ
loft, thinkin’ ye a praist and thimselves the choir-boys. I be-
laves, by me sowl, that ivery tree has got a tongue, for hear
how they whispers and mutters. Niver did I hear the likes.
No more singin’, Teddy my darlint, to sich an audience.”

He thereupon relapsed into silence, but it was only momen
tary. He suddenly looked out into the darkness wh‘icl.
shrouded the still watchful beast from sight, and exclaimed

“ Ye owld shivering assassin, out there, did yees ever hear til
how Tom O’Reilly got his wife? Yees never did, eh? Well
thin, be aisy now, and I’ll give yees the truths of the matter

“ Tom was a. great, rollicking boy, that had an eye gouged
out at the widow Mulloney’s wake, and an ugly cut that
made his mouth six inches wide: and, before he got the cut,
it was as broad as yer own out there. Besides, his hair being
of a fire’s own red, you may safely say that he was not the
most beautiful young man in Limerick, and that there wasn’t
many gals that were dying of a broken heart for the same
Tom.

“ But Tom thought a mighty sight of the gals and a great
deal more of Kitty McGuire, that lived close by the brook as
yees come a mile or two out of this side of Limerick. Tom

was possessed after that same gal, and it only made him the '

more determined when he found that Kitty didn’t like him at
all.
one who said he wasn’t would get his head broke.

“There was a little orphan girl, whose father had gone to- .

Ameriky and whose mother was dead, that was found one
light, years before, in front of ‘old Mrs. McGuire’s door. 5110

He towld the boys he was bound to have her, and any a

   
 
 

runabout the some users Kitty; and the owld~ woman not . ‘

  

     

   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 

TOM o'nmLLY's conn'rsrm'.

mt

to her out of kindness and brcught them up together. She got
mg "to be jist as ugly 9. looking a gal as Tom was a ma 1. Her
11d hair was redder than his, and her face was just that freckled
kc that yees couldn’t tell which was the freckle and which was the
in skin itself. And her nose had a twist, on the ind of it, that
er. ; made one think it had been made for a corkscrew, or some
tit machine that you bore holes with.

_ “ This gal, Molly Mulligan, used to encourage Toni t'
he  come to the house, and was always so mighty kind to 1.1m
an l that he used to kiss and shpark her by way of compinsaling
,e, '. her for her trouble. She used to take this all very well, for
m- . she was a great admirer of Tom’s, and'always spoke his praise.
as,  But Tom didn‘t make much headway with Kitty. It wasn’t

, oflen that he could saa her, and when he did, she was mighty
n ] 9am, and was sure to have the owld woman present, like a
:1, :‘ dumb-waiter, to be sure. She come to tell him at length that
I 5 she didn‘t admire his coming, and that he would greatly
i] l plaise her if he would make his visits by staying away alto
[l ' gither. The next time Tom went he found the door locked,
r and, utter hammering a half-hour, and being towld there was
ad  no admittance, he belaved it was meant as a kind hint that his
tt ; company was not agraable. Be yees listening, ye riptile?

t, l “ Tom might have stood it very well, if another chap
3 3 hadn’t begun calling on Kitty about this time. He used to
,3 go airly. in the evening, and not come out of the house till
t, j \ after midnight, so that one might belave his visits were Wei
9 ‘ come. This made Tom feel mighty bad, and so he hid

' behind the wall and waylaid the chap one night. He
.t - would have killed the chap, his timper was so ruflled, if the
3 man hadn't nearly killed him afore he had the chance. He
I paid all night in the gutter, and was just able to crawl home
a 1, next day, while the fellow went a-courting the next night, as
g .. if nothing had happened.

r a “ Tom begun to git melancholy, and his mouth didn’t up»

 
 

pear quite as broad as usual. Molly Mulligan thought he
had taken slow poison and it was gradually working through
his system; but he could ate his pick of praties the same as
iver. But Tom felt mighty bad; that fact can’t be denied,
1 and he went frequently to consult with a praist that'liyed near
this ind of Limerick, and Who was knowed to cutup a‘trtck

      
        
 
   

u m LOST mm.
or two during his lifetime. When Tom came out one day
looking bright and cherry, iverybody belaved they had been
conspiring togithcr, and had hit on some thavish trick they
was to play on little Kitty McGuire.

“ When the moon was bright, Kitty used to walk to Lim-
erick and back again of an evening. Her beau most likely
Went with her, but sometimes she preferred to go alone, as '
he knowed no one would hurt such a bonny little gal as her--
selfi. Tom knowed of these doings, as in days gone by he
had jined her once or twice. So one night he put a white
sheet around him as she was coming back from Limerick,
and hid under the little bridge over the brook. It was gittlng l
quite late, and the moon was just gone down, so, when she
stepped on the bridge, and he came out afore her, she gave
one shriek, and like to have fainted intirely.

“ ‘ Make no noise, or I’ll ate ye up alive,’ said Tom, trying f
to talk like a ghost. ‘

    

st

0!
b1
’1‘
t]:

“‘ ‘ What isht yees want ?’ she asked, shaking like a leaf, 3 t
t

‘and who are yees ?’ ;

“ ‘ I’m a shpirit, come to warn ye of your ill-doings.’

“ ‘I know I'm a great sinner,’ she cried, covering her face
with her hands; ‘ but I try to do as well as I can.’ ,

“ Do you know Tom O'Reilly ?' he asked, loud enough to 
-be heard in Limerick. ‘ You have treated him i'...’

“ ‘ That I know I have,’ she sobbed, ‘and how can I do
him justice 1" ‘

“ ‘ He loves you.’

“ ‘ I know he does?’

“ ‘ He is a shplendid man, and will make a much bittsl ..
husband than the spalpeen that ye now looks on with favor. ,

“ ‘ Shall I make him my husband ?’ ' l

x
l
1

other man marries yees, he’ll murder yees the same night!
“ ‘ 0h l’ shrieked the gal, as if she’d go down upon the
round, ‘ and how shall I save meself i”
“ ‘tBy marrying Tom O’Reilly.’
“ f Is that the only way ?’
“ ‘ Ay. Does yees consint ?’
> “ ‘, I do; I. must do poor Tom justice.’
".Will,.ye many him this same night?

 

 
 
    

' 8!

u
w
’I

a
o

'h

..-,.-.._.....,., x> -

u
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mu “sow” or m: mm. )1
“ “Phat I will.’
“‘ Tom is hid under this bridge; I’ll go down and bring
him up, and he'll go to the praist‘s with yees. Don’t ye shtir

‘ or I‘ll ate yees.’

“ 80 Tom whisked under the ind of the bridge, slipped oi}
the sheet, all the time kaaping one eye cocked above to sue
that Kitty didn‘t give him the shlip. He then came up an(

poke very smilingly to the gal, as though he hadn‘t seen her
fine that night. He didn’t think that his voice was jist the A
name.

“ Kitty didn’t say much, but she walked very quiet by his
"Ride, till they came to the praist’s house at this ind of Lim-
erick. The owld fellow must have been expecting him, for
before he could knock, he opened the door and let him in.
The praist didn’t wait long, and in five minutes he towld them
they were man and wife, and nothing but death could iver
make them different. Tom gave a regular yell that made the
windys rattle, for he couldn’t kaap his feelings down. He

; then threw his arms around his wife, gave her another hug,
"‘ and then dropped her like a hot potato.

For instead of, be-
ing Kitty McGuire, it was Molly Mulligan! The owld praist
wasn'tso bad after all. He had told Kitty and Molly of
Tom’s plans, and they had fixed the matter atween thim.
‘t‘Wal, the praist laughed, and Tom looked melancholic!
than iver; but purty som he laughed too, -and took'thc
~praist’s advice to make the bist of the bargain. Whisht l”
Teddy paused abruptly, for he heard a prolonged but fain".
halloo. It was, evidently, the call of his master, and indi
cated the direction of the camp. He replied at once, and
without thinking one moment of the prowling brute which

I might be upon him instantly, be passed beyond the protecting

circle of his fire, and dashed off at the top of his speed
through the woods, and ere long reached the camp-fire of his
‘fi'iends. As he came in, he observed that Mrs. Richter stiL
"was asleep beneath the canoe, while her husband stood watch-
‘lng beside her. Teddy had determined to conceal the partic-
ulars of the conversation he had held with the offlcloul

- . tumor, but he related the facts of his—pursuit and mishap, and

s
1

’0! his futile attempt to make his way back to camp. AMI
Us,th wowed themselves by the file, andthe 

 

 

” THE LOST TRAIL
was soon asleep. The adventures of the night, however, at
{acted Teddy’s nerves too much for him even to doze, and he
therefore maintained an unremitting watch until moming.

At an ’early hour, our friends were astir, and at once
launched forth upon the river. They noted a broadening of
the stream and weakening of the current, and at intensls
they came upon long stretches of prairie. The canoe glided
closely along, where they could look down into the clear
depths of the water, and discover the pebbles glistening upon
the bottom. Under a point of land, where the stream made
an eddy, they halted, and with their fishing-lines, soon secured
a breakfast which the daintiest gounnand might have envied.
They were upon the point of landing so as to kindle a fire,
when Mr. Richter spoke: , -

“Do yo" notice that large island in the stream, Cora?
Would you not prefer that as a landing-place ?"

“I think I should.” '

“ Teddy, we‘ll take our morning meal there.” ,

The powerful arms of the Irishman sent the frail vessel
swiftly over the water, and a moment later its prow touched
the velvet shore of the island. Under the skillful manipula-
tions of the young wife, who insisted upon taking charge,
their breakfast was quickly prepared, and, one might say, al-
most as quickly eaten.

They had new advanced so far to the northward that all
felt an anxiety to reach their-destination. Accordingly no
time was lost in the ascent of the stream.

The exhilarating influence of a clear spring morning in the
forest, is impossible to resist. The mirror-like sparkle of the
water that sweeps beneath the light canoe, or glitters in the
dew-drops upon the ashen blade; the golden blaze of sun-
hine streaming up in the heavens; the dewy woods, decked
here and there by the blossoms of some wild fruit or flower;
the cool air beneath the gigantic arms all a—flutter with the
warhling music of birds; all conjoin to inspire a fee'ing
which carries us back to boyhood again—to make as young
once more.

As Richter sat in the canoe's stern, and drank in the influ-
ence of the scene, his heart rose within him, and he could
scarcely refiain from shouting. His with, also, seemed to

    

iii?

  

 

 

   

more sno'r AT run HUNTER. N
partake of this buoyancy, for her eyes fairly sparkled as he
glanced from side to side. All at once Teddy ceased pad-
dling and pointed to the left shore. Following the direction
of his finger, Richter saw, standing upon the bank in full view,
the tall, spare figure of the strange hunter. He seemed occu-
Die] in watching them, and was as motionless as the tree.
trunks behind him—Po motionless, indeed, that it required a
second scrutiny to prove that it really was not an inanimate
object. The intensity of his observation prevented him from
observing that Teddy had raised his rifle from the canoe.
He caught the click of the lock, however, and spoke in a
sharp tone:

“ Teddy, don’t you dare to-—”

His remaining words were drowned in the sharp craek of
the piece.

“ It’s only to frighten him jist, Master Harvey. It‘ll sarve
the good purpose of giving him the idee we ain‘t afeard, and
if he continues his thaiving tricks, he is to be shot at sight,
as a shaap-stalin’ dog, that he is, to be sure.”

“You‘ve hit him I” said his master, as he observed the
hunter leap into the woods.

“ Thank the Lord for that. for it was an accident, and he’ll
l’am we’ve rifles as well as himself. It's mighty little harm,
howiver, is done him, if he can travel in that gay style.”

“I am displeased, for your shot might have taken his life,
and—but, see yonder, Teddy, what does that mean?”

Close under the opposite bank, and several hundred yards
above them, was discernible a long canoe, in which was
seated at least a dozen Indians. They were coming slowly
down -stream, and gradually working their way into the cen-
ter of the river. Teddy surveyed them a moment and said:

“ That means they’re after us. Is it run or fight ?”

“ Neither; they are undoubtedly from the village, and w
may as well meet them here as there. What thian you, dea
wife i" -

“ Let us join them, by all means, at once.”

All doubts were soon removed, when the canoe was hmdod
directly toward them, and under the propulsion of the many

stimulating”. came likes-bird over the surfaceof the
 'A few rods away-its speed was slackened, and.

  

  

 

N THE LUSI TRAIL

hem approaching closer, it made a circuit aroma m
Voyageurs’ canoe, as if the warriors were anxious to assure
themselves there was no decoy or design in this unresist’mg
surrender.

Evidently satisfied that it was a bona fide afi‘air, the Indian-I
swept up beside our friends, and one of the warrizrs, munch-i
ing out his hands, said :

“ Gib guns me—gib guns.”

“Begon'ah, but it would be mighty plaisant to us, if it
would be all the same to yees, if ye’d be clever enough to let
us retain possission of ’em,” said Teddy, hesitating about com-
plying with the demand. “They might do ye some injury,
ye know, and besides, I didn’t propose to—"

“Let them have them,” said Richter. The Irishman re-
luctantly obeyed. and while he passed his rifle over with his
left hand, he doubled up his right, shaking it under the sav-
age’s nose.

“ Ye’ve got me gun, ye old log of walnut, but ye hnin’t got
me fists, begorrah, but, by the powers, ye shall have them
some of these fine mornings whiu yer eyes want opening.”

“ Teddy, be silent I” sharply commanded the missionary.

But the Indians, understanding the significance of the
Irishman’s gestures, only smiled at them, and the chief who
had taken his gun, nodded his head, as much as to say he,
too, would enjoy a fisticufl“.

, When the whites were defenseless, one of the savages
/vaulted lightly into their canoe, and took possession of the
paddle.

“ I‘m highly oblaiged to ye,” grinned Teddy, “ Rir me arms
have been waxin’ tired ever ‘sin’ I l’arned the Injin way of
driving a canoe through the water. When ye gets out o’
breath jist ax another red-skin to try his hand, while I boss
the job."

The canoes were pulled rapidly upstream. This settled
that the whites were being carried to the village wh.ch was
their original destination. Both Harvey and his wife were

_jnther pleased than otherwise with this, althc ugh the mis-
Honmy would have preferred an interview or conversation
“lit order to make  and intentions know» 
m at Whilst they displayed of them

 

m

egysevmn. on: . .i

 

 

  

m mums vnnmen. ‘ a

'lmguage. He overheard words exchanged betwt on them which
were as easy to understand as much of Teddy’s talk. They
must he, therefore, in frequent communication with white
men. Their location was so far north that, as Richter plausi-
bly inferred, they were extensive dealers in furs and peltriee,
which must be disposed of to traders and the agents of the
American Fur and Hudson Bay Companies. The Selkirk or
led river settlement also, must be at an easfly accesslble (lis-
once.

It may seem strange that it never occurred to the captives
that the savages might do them harm. In fact, nothing but
violence itself would have convinced the missionary that such
was contemplated. He had yielded himself, heart and soul,
to his work; he felt an inward conviction that he was to ac-
complish great good. Trials and sufferings of all imaginable
kinds he expected to undergo, but his life was to be spared
’until the work was accomplished. Of that he never experi-
enced a uoment's doubt.

Our readers will bear in mind that the period of which we
write, although but a little more than forty years since, was
when the territory west. of the Mississippi was almost entirely
unknown. Trappcrs, hunters and fur-traders in occasional
instances, penetrated into the heart of the mighty solitude.
Lewis and Clark had made their expedition to the head-wa-
ters of the Columbia, but the result of all these visits, to the

'civilized world, was much the same as that of the adventurers

who have penetrated into the interior of Africa.

It was known that on the north-west dwelt the warlike
Blackfeet, the implacable foes of every white man. There,
also, dwelt other tribes, who seemed resolved that none but
their own race should dwell upon that soil. Again, there
were others with whom little difllculty was experienced in
bartering and trading, to the great profit of the adventurous
whites. an the satisfaction of the savages; still, the shrewd
traders knew better than to trust to Indian maguanimity or
honor. Their reliance, under heaven, was their tact in man-
aging the savages, and their own goodly rifles and strong
Irma. The Sioux were among the latter class, and with the.
it was destined that the lot of Harvey Richter and HI wit

,‘Ihouldbecast. V

 

  

88 True LOST TRAIL.

The Indian village was reached in the course of a ouplo ,

of hours. It was found to be much larger than Richter could
have anticipated. The missionary soon made known his
character and wishes. This secured an audience with the
leading chief, when Harvey explained his mission, and asked
permission for himself and companions to settle among them.
With the ludicrous dignity so characteristic of his people, the
chief deferred his reply until the following day, at which time
he gave consent, his manner being such as to indicate that he
was rather unwilling than otherwise.

That same afternoon, the missionary collected the dusky
children of the forest together and preached to them, as best
he could, through the assistance of a rude interpreter. He
was listened to respectfully by the majority, among whom
were several whom he inferred already had heard the word
of life. There were others, however, to whom the ceremony
was manifestly distasteful. The hopeful minister felt that his
Master had directed him to this spot, and that now his real
life-work had begun.

CHAPTER III.

THE JUG ACQUAINTANCEB.

With that dull, callous, rooted lmpudence,
Which, dead to shame and every nicer sense,
Ne‘er blushed, unless. when spreading Vlce‘s snares,
He stumbled on some virtue unawares.—-Cnunemu..
A YEAR has passed since the events recorded in the pre-
ceding pages, and it is summer again. Far up, beside one of

those tributaries of the Mississippi, in the western portion of

what is now the State of Minnesota, stands a small cahin,~

such as the early settlers in new countries build for them-
selves. About a quarter of a mile further up the stream is a
large Sioux village, separated from the but by a stretch of
woods through which runs a well-worn foot-path. This ar-
rangement the young missionary, Harvey Richter, preferred
lithe! than to dwell in the Indian village» While laboring

    

    

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TEDDY AND THE INDIAN. 3‘

with all his heart and soul to regulate these degraded people.
and while willing to make their troubles and afflictions his

‘ . own, he still desired a seclusion where his domestic cares and

enjoyments were safe from constant interruption. This ex-

' plains why his cabin had been erected at such a distance from

his people.

Every day, no matter what might be the weather, the ruler
donary visited the village, and each Sabbath afternoon, when
possible, service was held. This was almost invariably at-
tended hy the entire population, who now listened attentively
to what was uttered, and'otten sought to follow the counsels
tittered by the good man. A year’s residence had sufficed to
45!! the respect and confidence of the Indians, and to con-
nnce the faithtul servant that the seed he had sown was al-
ready springing up and bearing fruit.

About a mile from the river, in a dense portion of the
wood, are seated two persons, in friendly converse. But a
glance would be required to reveal that one or these was our
old friend Teddy, in the most jovral and communicative of
moods. The other, painted and bedaubed until his features
were scarcely recognizable, and attired in the gaudy Indian
apparel, sufficiently explains his identity. A small jug sitting
between them, and which is frequently carried to the mouth
of each, may disclose why, on this particular morning, they
seemed on such confidential terms. The sad truth was that
the greatest drawback to Harvey Richter’s ministrations was
his own servant Teddy. The Indians could ,not understand
why he who lived constantly with the missionary, should be
so careless and reckless, and should remain “ without the felt ,"
when the good man exhorted them in such earnest language
to become Christians. It was incomprehensible to their minds,
and served to fill more than one with a suspicion that all was
not What it should be. Harvey had spent many an hour ww-
Teddy, in earnest, prayerful expostulation, but, thus far, to u
purpose.

For six months after the advent of the missionary and 3:1
Wife, nothing had been seen or heard of the strange hunter
when, one cold winter’s morning, as the former was returning
born the village through the path, a ride was discharged, and
Ills. bullet whiued within an inch or two of his eyes. He

3.

 

34 Tumor mm

might have believed it to he one of the Indians, hail ‘he an
secured a. fair look at the man as he ran away. He said
nothing of it to his wife or Teddy, although it occasioned
him much trouble and anxiety of mind.

A month or two later, when Teddy was hunting in the
woods, and had paused a moment for rest, a gun was dis
that'ng at him, from a thick mass of undergrowth. Certain
hat the unknown hunter was at hand. he dashed in as before
letermined to bring the transgressor to a personal account.
i‘eddy could hear him fleeing, and saw the agitation of the
undergrowth, but did not catch even a glimpse of. his
game.

While prosecuting the search, Teddy suddenly encountered
an Indian, staggering along with a jug in his hand. The sav-

age manifested a friendly disposition, and the two were soon ;

seated upon the ground, discussing the fiery contents of the
vessel and exchanging vows of eternal friendship. When
they separated it was with the understanding that they were
to meet again in a couple of days.

Both kept the appointment, and since that unlucky day
they had encountered quite frequently. Where the Indian
obtained the liquor was a mystery, but it was an attraction
that never failed to draw Teddy forth into the forest. The
effect of alcoholic stimulants upon persons is as various as are
their temperaments. The American Indian almost always be-
comes sullen, vindictive and dangerous. Now and then there
is an exception, as was the case with the new-made friend of
Teddy. Both were afi‘ected in precisely a. similar manner;
both were jolly. \

“ Began-ah, but yees are a line owld gintleman, if yer face
does look like a paint-jug, and ye isn't able to lay claim to
one-half the beauty meself possesses. That ye be,” said
Teddy, a few moments after they had seated themselves, and
before either had been affected by the poisonous liquid.

“ I loves you l” said the savage, betraying in his manner of
pcech a remarkable knowledge of the English language. “ I
think of you when I sleep—I think of you when I open my
eyes—J think of you all the time.”

“ Much obleeged‘; it’s meself that thinks and mediates upu

your beauty and: loving qualities all the time, barring that h.

V t

     
 

    

é ’ m wmsxrme. 
which I‘ thinks of something else, which is about an the limo
—a.ll the same to yer honor.”

“ Loves you very much,” repeated the savage; “love Mister
Harvey, too, and Miss Harvey.” .
1 “Then why doesn’t ye come to hear him preach, ye toes
I l of the wilderness ‘3”
“Don't like preaching."

3 “ Did yees ever hear him ‘2"

“ Neber hear him.”

i “ Yer oughter come; and that minds me I’ve never mum y!
Round the village, for which I uxes yees the raison ?”
“ Me ain’t Sioux—don’t like ’em.”
“ Whinever yees are discommoded with this jug, p’raps it
wouldn‘t be well for yees to cultivate the acquaintance of any

, I? one except meself, for they might be dispensed to relave yeel

‘ g of the article, when yees are well aware it’s an uisy matter for

: us to do that ourselves. Where does yees get the jug ?"

“ Had him good while."

“ I know; but the contents I mean. Where is it ye secures
! the vallyble contents ‘2”

“Me get 'em," was the intelligent reply.
’ “That’s what I’ve been supposing, that yees was gitting
; more nor your share; so here’s to prevint,” remarked Teddy,
‘ us he inverted the jug above his head. “ Now, me butternut
i friend, what ’bjections have yees to that ?”
i] “All right—all be good—like Miss Harvey ?"

Teddy stared at the savage, as if he failed to take in his
question.

“ Like Miss Harvey—good man’s squaw—t’ink she be good‘
woman 2”

“ The loveliest that ivcr trod the uirth—hless her swute
Soul. She niver has shpokon a cross word to Teddy, for all
he‘s the biggest scamp that ivcr brought tears to her eyes. it
there be any thing that has nigh fetched this mild sinner tc
his marrowhones it was to see something glistening in her
eyes," said the Irishman. as he wiped his own. “God Hist
Miss Cora,” he added, in the same manner of speech that he
had been wont to use before she became a Wife. “ She might
like any man glad to come and live alone in the wilderness
'id 1161'. It’s rueself that ought to be ashamed to come away-

 

 

 

a, run near mu.
and Pan her alone by herself, though I thinks even a wild band
would not harm a hair of her blissid head. If it wasn’t fox
this owld whisky-jug I wouldn’t. be l’aving her,” said Teddy,
indignantly.

“ How be ’lone i—Mister Harvey dere.”

“ No he isn‘t, by a jug-full—barring the jug must be well-
llgh impty, and the divil save the jug, innyhow: in )"
uti‘. it’s impty.”

“' Where Mr. Harvey go, if not in cabin ?" asked the an ‘
lg“, betmying a suspicious eagerness that would have beta
ohm rved by Teddy upon any other occasion.

“ To the village, that he may preach and houhl converse
wild 'em. I allers used to stay at home when he’s gone, for

fear that owld thaif of a hunter might break into the pantry '

and shtail our wines—that is, if we had any, which we
haven’t. Blast his sowl—thut humor I mane, an’ if iver I
mull him, may I be used for a flail if I don‘t settle his ac
counts." r

“ When Mister Harvey go to village ‘2"

“ Whin he plaises, which is always in the afternoon, whin
his dinner has had a fair chance to sittle. Does ye take him
for I michunic, who goes to work as soon as he swallows
his bread and mate ‘r" said the Irishman, with omcial dignity.

“ Why you not stay with squaw ?”

“ "l‘hat‘s the ruison," replied Teddy, imbibing from the ves-
sel beside him. “ But you will plaise not call Miss Cora a
alaqu any more. If ye does, it will be at the imminent
risk of having this jug smashed over yer head, either the
whisky is all gone, which it very soon will be if a plug isn’t put
into your mouth."

“ N ioe woman—much good."

“ You may well say that, Mister Copperskin, and say no-
thing else. And it's a fine man is Mister Harvey, barring he
runs me purty close once in a while on the moral quishtion.
I’m af’eard I shall have to knock under soon. If I could but
slay that thaif of a hunter that has been poking around here,
I think I could go the Christian aisy; but Whin I thinks of
“at man, I foals like the divil himself. They’s no use trfin’

tabs piouswhin he‘s around;so pass thejugifyedtl‘l "

mm to tight meseli'."

A—'—~—~ Av--——~,...._4_. A. a.

eras-8:.

 
 

.F’d

E.’£

  

wb

“3 ’ ’ TEDDY GROWS Y‘UGNACIOUS.

"He by} man—much bad," said the savage, who had I»
] odved an account of him from his companion.
“ I promised Master Harvey not to shoot the villain, excipt
it might be to save his life or me own: but I belave if I had
, the chance, I’d jist conveniently farpit me promise, and let me
 gun go ofi‘ by accident. St. Pathrick! wouldn’t I like to have
- I e shindy wid the sn‘akin’, mean, skulkin’ assassin l”
“ Does he want kill you ?” '
“Arrah, be aisy now; isn’t it me master he’s ailer, and
) what‘s the difl‘erence ? Barring I would rather'it was mesell‘,
that I might sittle it gintaaly wid him ;" and ’X‘emw. “ squar-'
,ing” himself, began to make threatening motions at the In-
dian’s head.

“ Bad man—why not like Mr. Harvey ‘3” said the savage,
paying to attention to Teddy‘s demonstrations.

“ There yees has me. There’s s0111e*bing atwt. en ’em,
though what it might be none but Mr. Harvey himself knows,
’les it mought be the misthress, that I don‘t belave knows a
word on it. But what is it yer business, Mrt Muhoganv 1”

‘ “ Mebbe Mr. Harvey hurt him some time—do bad with
him,” added the Indian, betraying an evident interest in the
subject.

“ Begorrah, if yees can’t talk better sinse nor that, ye‘d Dist
put a stopper on yer blab. The idea of me muster harming

. any one is too imposterous to be intertained by a free and in-
lightened people—a fraa and inlightened people, as I used to
spell out in the newspapers at home. But whishtl Ye m

' a. savage, as don’t know any thing about Fourth of July, 9'
all the other afl‘ections of the people.”

“ You dunno what mebbe he done.”

“ Do ye know ?” asked Teddy, indignantly.

i i “ Nebber know What he do—how me know ?’

‘ “ Thin what does ye mane by talking in that shtylef ‘

F warns ye, there’s some things that can’t be passed atween a!
and that is one of ’em. If ye wants to fight, jist you lay

- that again. I’m aching for a shindy anyhow: so now s’pou

, ye jist say that again.” And Teddy began to show unmistak-

i, i'eble signs of getting ready.

 , V “ Sorry—didn't mean—feel bad". .

" “Oh bluney Why didn’t ye stick to it, and 1m gm .0

,‘ ’

,.

 

 

urn—hr

.»\ ,
A'a’éw‘y’ '

 

 

33 m nor nun.

 

A chance to express meself 1? But all’s right; oily, be m
and don’t say any thing like it again, that’s all.
the jug, to wash me timper down, ye know."
By this time Teddy‘s ideas were beginning to be confused,
and his manner maudlin. He had imbibed freely, and wss
[myng the consequences. The savage, however, had scurCely
taken it swallow, although he htld made as if to do so severe"
times. His actions would have led an inexperienced persn

  

   
   

Pass along '1

to think that he was under the influence of liquor; but h ,,

wns sober, and his conduct was feigned, evidently, for some
purpose of his own. Teddy grew boisterous, and insisted on
constantly shaking hands and renewing his pledges of eternal
friendship to the savage, who received and responded to them
in turn. Finally, he squinted townrd the sun.

“ I told Mr. Harvey, when I left, I was going to hunt,-and
if X expects to return today, I thinks, Mr. Black Walnut, we
should be on our way. The jug is intirely impty, so there is
no occasion for us to remain longer.”

“ Dat so—me leave him here.”

“ Now let’s shake hands agin nfore we rise."

The shaking of hands was all an excuse for Teddy to re-
ceive assistance in rising to his feet. He balanced himself a
moment, and stared around him, with that aimless, blinking
stare peculiar to a drunken man.

“ Me honey, isn’t there an airthquuke ngitntin‘ this solitude ?"

he asked, steadying himself against a sapling, “or am I stand-

ing on ajug ‘9”

“Dunno—mebbe woods shake—feel him a little—earth
must be sick," said the savage, feigning an unsteudiness of the
head

“Begorrah, but. it's ourselves that's the sickest," laughed
Teddy, fully sensible of his sad condition. “ It‘ll niver do I‘ ‘
return to Master Harvey in this shtyle. There‘d be a com-

mittee of investigation appointed on the spot, an’ I shouldn't
pass muster exeipt for a whisky-barrel, och hone l"

“ Little sick—soon be well—then shoot."

“ I wonder now whether I could howld me gut straight;
enough to drop it bufiier at ten paces. There sits a bird in:
tint tree that is grinning at me. _ I’ll t‘sch him bitter any

i
i

F

 
 

     

 
   
 

, waikness.

TEDDY BENT 0N FISHING. a

The gun was discharged, the bullet passing within a few
inches of the head of the Indian, who sprung back with a
grunt.

“A party good shot,” laughed Teddy; “ but it would be
mythor tiresome killing game, being I could only hit them as
run behind me, and being I can‘t sun in that diriction, I’ll
give over the idea, and turn me undivided attention to fishing.
Ah, divil a bit of difference is it to the fish, whin a worm I
on the right ind, whether a drunken man or a giutlcman ilr
at the other.”

The Indian manifested a readiness to assist every project of
the Irishman, and he now advised him to fish by all means,
urging that they should proceed to-the river at once. But
Teddy insisted upon going to a small creek near at hand.
The savage strongly demurred, but finally yielded, and the
two set out, making their way somewhat after the fashion of
a. yoke of oxen.

Upon reaching the stream, Teddy, instead of pausing upon
the bank, continued walking on until he was splashing up to
his waist in water. Had it not been for the prompt assist
ance of the Indian, the poor fellow most probably would have
had his earthly career terminated. This incident partially
sobered Teddy, and made him ashamed of his condition. He
saw the savage was by no means so far gone as himself, and
he hewailed his foolishness in unmeasured terms. V

“ Who knows but Master Harvey has gone to the village,
and Miss Cora stands in the door this minute, ’xpacting this
owld spalpaan ?” '

“ No go, till artemoon,” said the savage.

“ What time might it be jist now ?”

“"l‘ain’t noon yit—soon be—bimeby.”

“ It’s all the same; I shan’t be fit to go home afore nigl
whin I might bist stay away altogither. And you, Mr. Cop
perskin, was the maans of gittin‘ me in this trouble.”

“ Me make you drink him ?" asked the savage. “ You not
ax hr jug, eh? You not want him i”

“ Yes, begorrah, it was me own fault. Whisky is In.
Its illigant perfume always sits me wild MIL
meter Harvey was belaving, whin he brought me here, that I
wouldn’t be drinking any of the vile stuff. for the good nii’n

  
   

  

 
 

I

. lib

mmmn.

that I couldn’t git none; but, what’ll he say now! Kim
“was I drunker at Donnybrook, and only once, an’ that was at
me father’s fourteenth weddin’.”

“ Don’t want more ?”

“NO 1” thundered Teddy. “I hope 1 may niver see not
taste another drop so long as I live. I here asserts me am-
clent honor agin, an' I defy the jug, ye spalpeen of a harba
[in what knows no better." Teddy’s reassertion of dignity
Was very ludicrous, for a tree had to support him as he spoke;
but he evidently was in earnest.

“ Neber gib it——il‘ don't want it.”

“ They say an Indian never will tell a lie to a friend," Mid
Teddy, dropping his voice as if speaking to himself. ‘ Do
you ever lie, Mr. What’s-your-name ‘9”

“No,” replied the savage, thereby uttering an unmitigated
falsehood.

“ You give me your promise, then, that ye’ll niver mrnish
me anither drap ‘3”

fl Yb."

“ Give me yer hand.”

The two shook hands, Teddy’s face, despite its vacant ex-
pression, lighting up for the time with a look of de.ight.

“ Now I’ll fish,” said Teddy. “ P’raps it is best that ye
‘ave these parts; not that I intertains inmity or bad-will to-
ward you, but thin ye know hello! yees are gone already,
bees you ?”

 

The Indian had departed, and Teddy turned his attention 1

toward securing the bait. In a‘few moments he had cast the
line out in the stream and was sound asleep, in which eondt
do. he remained until night set in

    
     
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    

 

 

  

‘ nothing but gladness and sunlight into the household.

 without speaking. She was in "that 

 

 

C H A P 'I‘ E R I V.
AN omnons RENCON'mn

“ I will work him
To In exploit now rich in my device.
Under the which he shall not choose but fill."

his sun passed the meridian, on that summer day in 183'; I
and Harvey Richter, the young missionary, came to the door
of his cabin. intending to set forth upon his Walk to the Indian
Village. It was rather early; the day was pleasant, and as
his wife followed him, he lingered awhile upon the steps, loth
to leave a scene of such hoiy joy. j

The year which the two had spent in that wilderness had
been one of almost unalloyed happiness. The savages, among
whom they had come to labor, had received them more kindly
than they deemed it right to anticipate, and had certified their
esteem for them in numberlcss ways. The missionary felt
that a blessing was upon his labor.

An infant had been given them, and the little fellow brought
Ah!
none but a father can tell how precious the blue-eyed image
of his mother was to Harvey Richter; none but a mother can
realize the yearning affection with which she bent over the
sleeping cherub; and but few can enter into the rollicking
pride of Teddy over the little stranger. At times. his mani-
festations were fairly uproarious, and it became necessary to
check them, or to send him further into the woods to relieve
himself of his exuberant delight.

Harvey lingered upon the threshold, gazing dreamin away
at the mildly-flowing river, or at the woods, through which
for a considerable distance, he could trace the winding path
which his own feet had worn. Dora, his wife, stood beside
him, looking smilineg down in his face, while her left hand
toyed with a stray ringlet that would protrude itself from
beneath her husband’s cap. ' '
' “ Cora, are you sorry that we came intothis wild  i"

The smile on her face grew more radiant, as she shook '&

 

  

  

'TRELOSTTRAIL

state, in which it seems an effort to speak—so much so that
she avoided it until compelled to do so by some direct ques-
tion.

“ You are perfectly contented—happy, are you 1?”

Again the same smile, as she answered in the attirmative by
an inclination of the head. - '

“You would not change it for a residence at home with

our own people if you could ?” '

The same sweet denial in pantomime.

“Do you not become lonely sometimes, Cora, hundreds of
miles away from the scenes of your Childhood?”

“Have I not my husband and boy ‘3” she asked,’ half re-
proachfully, as the tears welled up in her eyes. “ Can I ask
more ?”

“I have feared sometimes, when I’ve been in the village,
that perhaps you were lonely and sorrowful, and often I have
hurried my footsteps that I might be with you a few moments
sooner. When preaching and talking to the Indians, my
thoughts would wander away to you and the dear little fellow
there. And what husband could prevent them ‘9" said Harvey,
impulsively, as he drew his wife to him, and kissed her again
and again.

“You must think of the labor before you.”

“ There is scarcely a moment of my life in which I don’t,
but it is impossible to keep you and him from my mind. I
am sorry that I am compelled to leave you alone so omen. It
seems to me that Teddy has acted in a singular manner of
late. He is absent every aflcrnoon. He says he goes hunt-
ing, and yet he rarely, if ever, brings any thing back with
him."

I “ Yesterday he returned shortly after you left, and acted so
oddly, I did not know what to make of him. He appeared
Very anxious to keep me at a distance, but once he came close

fumes ofvliquor then I was never more mistaken in my life."
“Impossible! where could he obtain it 1‘” ‘\

was; nevertheless his manner and the evidence :of his own
' math ved it beyond all doubt to my mind. You have

 

enough for me to catch his breath, and if it did not reveal thr ‘
2“ The question I asked myself and Which Ix’conld" not}

 'ow set, hei’s every afternoon abOut going atnyiin m

 
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

 

 

  

4i

 

moors memoir.

 

, , weeds. Such was not his custom, and I think link“ it oer-
: thin some unusual attraction calls him forth. -'
“ What can it all mean ‘3" asked the missionary of lime. '.

“ No; it can not be that he brought any of the stuff with hill.

and concealed it in the boat. It must have been discovered"

“ Every article that came with us is in this house."
“ Then some one must furnish him with it, and who no'-

on it be ‘3”

“ Are there not some of your people who are addicted t:
the use of liquor ?” ' '
[ “Alas! there are too many who can not Withstand L.»
tempter; but I never yet heard of an Indian who knew how
to mice it. It is only when they visit some of the ports, 0'
the Red river settlement, that they obtain it. Or perhaps 1
trader may come this way, and bring it with him.”

“ And could not Teddy have obtained his of such t
man ?”

“There has been none here since last autumn, and then
those who visited the village had no liquor with them. They
i always come to the village first so that I could not avoid
learning of their presence. Est me see, he has been away
since morning ?"

“Yes; he promised an early return."

“He will probably make his appearance in the course of
an hour or so. Watch him closely. I will be back "sooner
to-day, and we shall probe this matter to the bottom. Good-
by In '

Again he embrwed his wife, and then strode rapidly across
the Clearing in the direction of the woods. His wife watched
; his form winding in and out among the trees, until it finally
‘ ' disappeared from view; and then, waiting a few moments
onger, as if 10th to withdraw her gaze from th( spot where
lhe had last seen him, she finally turned within the house to
Ingagc in her domestic duties.

1 The‘thrifly housewife has seldom an idle moment on her
hands, and Cora passed hither and thither, performing the nu
g. merous little acts that were not much in themselves, but col.
lactively were necessary, if not indispensable, in her houstr
hyohi, management Occasionally she paused and bent own
1 Bit child,'th'at lay sleeping on the ‘.ed, m: it fiks s fond

 

 

  

 
 

q, ‘ mnos'r'rum

eqqldnot restrain herself from softly touching her lips to its
own, although it was at the imminent risk of awaking it.

An hour passed. She went to the door and looked out to
see whether Teddy was in sight; but the woods were as si-
lent as if they contained no living thing. Far away over the
river, nearly opposite the Indian village, she saw two canoes
crossing the stream, resembling ordinary-sized water-birds in
he distance. These, so in harmony with the lazy, sunshin}
afternoon, were all that gave evidence that man had ever in
vaded this solitude.

Cora Richter could but be cheerful, and, as she moved to
and fro, she sung a hymn, one that was always her husband’s
favorite. She sung it unconsciously, from her very blilhesome-
ness of spirits, not knowing she was making music which the
birds themselves might have envied. ' 4

All at once her ear caught the sound of a footstep, and
confident that Teddy had come, she turned her face toward
the door to greet him. She uttered a slight scream, as she
saw, instead of the honest Hibernian, the form of a towering,
painted savage, glaring in upon her.

Ordinarily such a visitor would have occasioned her no
surprise or alarm. In fact, it was rare that a day passed with-
out some Indian visiting the cabin——either to consult with the
missionary himself, or merely to rest a few moments. Some-
times several called together, and it often happened that they
came while none ‘but the wife was at home. They were al-
ways treated kindly, and were respectful and pleased in turn.
During the nights in winter, when the storrp howled through

the forest, 9. light burned at the missionary’s window, and.

many a savage, who belonged often to a distant tribe, had
knocked at the door and secured shelter until morning. Ordi
narily we say, then, the visit of an Indian gave the younL,
wife no alarm. I
But there was something in the appearance of this painted,
sinewy savage that filled her with dread. There was I.

 
   

treacherous look in his black eyes, and  sinister expression. 

visible in spite of vermilion and ocher, that made her shrink 
from him, as she would have shrunk frcm some loathsomg,

monster.

' V  Eh! Wider may have surmised, he was another   '

   
  

in

Daubdil or Mahogany, Who had left Teddy on purpose to Visit
the cabin, whde both the servant and his master Were absent.
In spite of the precaution used, he had taken more liquor
than he intended; and, as a consequence, was just in that
reckless state of mind. when he would have hesitated at no
deed, however heinous. From a jovial, gwd-natured Indian,
413 the. company of the Hibernian, he was transformed into a
lullen, vindictive savage in the presence of the gentle wife of
Harvey Richter. He supported himself against the door and
neemed undecided whether to enter or not. The alarm of-
Cora. Richter was so excessive that she endeavored to con
ceal it.

“ What do you wish ‘2” she asked.

“ Where Misser Richter?"

“ Gone to the village,” she replied, bravely resolving that
no lie should cross her lips if her life depended upon it.

“ When come back ‘1’”

“In an hour or so perhaps.”

“ Where Ted '1‘"

“ He has gone hunting.”

“Big lie—he drunk—don’t know nothing—lay sleep on
ground.” y

“ How do you know? Did you see him ?”

“ Me gib him fire-water—much like it—drink good deal——
tumble over like tree hain’t got root."

“ Did you ever give it him before ‘2” asked the young wife,
her curiosity Supplanting her alarm for the moment.

“ Gib him ofiiu—gib him every day—much like it—drink
much.”

Again the wife's instincti '9. fear came back to her, and be

A enormous VISITOR.

r endeavored to conceal it by a calm. unimpassioned exterior.

1/

‘u
M

“ Won’t you come in and rest yourself until Mr. Richter
mums ?" ‘

“ Don't want to see him,” replied the savage, ull'cniy.

‘f Who do you wish to see then?"

“ You—\t’ink much of you.”

The wife felt as if she would sink to the floor. There 
 éthing in the tones of his voice that had marinaded:
got-tithefint. She was almost certain this savage inth ' \
PM “' P" new that he knew the miiéionary himneif the 

 

 
  

   

‘fi mmstrmn.

She-glanced up at the rifle which wts hung, aLove the  V
place. It was charged, and she had learned 'how to sea j
since her marriage. Several times she was on the point of 
springing up and seizing it and placing herself upon the do: {
fensive. Her heart throhhed wildly at the thought, but she 

finally concluded to resort to such an act only at the last [110- ‘1
men..- Sho might still conciliate the Indian by kindness, and "

iler all, perhaps he meditated no harm or rudeness.

“Come and sit down then, and talk with me awhile,” said ,
she, as pleasantly as it was possible.

I The savage stumbled forward a few feet. and dropped into
a seat, where he glared fully a minute straight into the face
of the woman. This was the most trying ordeal of all, es- '
pecially when she raised her own blue eyes, and addressed
him. It seemed impossible to combat the fierce light of those
orbs, although she bore their scrutiny like a heroine. He
had seated himself near the door, but he was close enough
for her to detect the fumes of the liquor he had drank, and
she knew a savage was never so dangerous as when in a half-
‘lntoxicated condition.

.. “ Have you come a longdistanee ?" she asked.

“ Good ways——live up north."

“ You are not a Sioux, then?”

“ No—don’t like Sioux—bad people.”

“ Why do you mine then in their neighborhood—in their
country ?”

“ ’Cause I want to—come see you.”

‘5 You must come again—”

At this juncture, the child in the cradle awoke and began ‘
crying. The face of the savage assumed an expression of '
ferocity, and he saidpabruptly: '

“ Stop noise—me tomahawk if don’t.” _ i

As he spoke he laid his hand in a threatening manner upon , '
his tomahawk, and the mother sprung up and lifted the infant 

in her arms for the purpose of pacifying it. The dreadful
threat had almost unnerved her, for she believed the savage-
lwwld carry it out upon the slightest pretext. But before;
that tomahawk should reach her child, the mother mustw  I
 the earth. She. pressed it convulsively to he!
 1'» aw  “8 40ml .5?“ Vita-1999," P931.“

 

    

  

mvnr‘s orro'n'rnun nerve-n. I

  

  its eyes in slumber and then some impulse ' prompted
'o‘f  her to lay it upon the bed, and to place herself between it
lo. (‘ 9nd the Indian, so that she might be unimpeded in 'her move
“0' ! merits if the savage should attempt harm to her or her oil‘-
10. l spring »
m 3: Several moments now passed without the Indian speaking
The interval was occupied by him in looking around 1112
m : room and examining every portion upon which it was possi
" ble tAL- rest his gaze. The survey completed, he once more
to fixed his scrutiny upon the young wife, and suddenly spoke
’06 in his sententious, abrupt manner.
is. “ Want sunkin eat."
Ed , Tnis question was a relief, for it afl'orded the wife an op
se I portunity of expressing her kindness; but, at the same time,
{a it caused a more rapid beating of her heart, since to procure
{b 1 what was asked, she would be compelled to pass out of the
1d ' door, and thus not only approach him much more closely
1f. than she was willing, but. it would be necessary to leave mm

alone with her infant until her return.

She was in a painful dilemma, to decide whether it was
best to refuse the visitor's request altogether or to comply With
it, trusting to Providence to protect them both. A casual
glance at the Indian convinced her that it would be dangerous

,k i to thwart his wishes longer; and, with an inward prayer to
God, she arose and approached the door. As she passed near
him, he moved and she involuntarily quickened her step, until
she was outside. The Indian did not follow, and she hurried
m on her errand.
,f She had gone scarely a yard. when she heard him walking
‘ across the floor, and detected at the same moment, the cry of
‘her infant. Fairly beside herself with terror, she ran back
m the house, and saw the savage taking down her husband’s
m f rifle. The revulsion of her feelings brought tears to her eyes,
Ind she said :
ff I wish you would go away, I don’t like you.”
. ‘,‘ Kiss me-Lden I go !" said he, stepping toward her.
’ V “Keep away! keep away 1" she screamed, retreating to
the door and yet fearing to go out I I u _‘ '-
:1,“ mg—tomahawk pappoose 1” said the sewage, placing
it‘hn’d ripon’uie  ‘ ' - -

_.-.

 

"vwssse

 

 

 

 

   

  

 

C 'mn mar mam.

r The young wife placed her hands over her face and Iohbed
aloud. She did not hear the cat-like footstep of the savage}
as he approached. His long arm was already stretched forth
to clasp her, when the door was darkened, a form leaped into
the mom, and with the quickness of lightning, dealt the sav-
age a tremendous blow that stretched him limp and lifeless
upon the floor.

“Move a limb and I will kill you l" shouted the young
nissionary, his face all ablaze with passion.
harmed you i”

“ No, no, no, Harvey; have you not already killed him?”

“ Pity that I haven't. He is not fit to live.”

“ Dear Harvey, you are carried away by your passion.
restrain yourself.”

Woman-like, the only emotion of Cora Richter was that of
nommiseration for the poor wretch that had been stricken down
by the hand of her husband. She saw the blood trickling
from his face and knew that he was dreadfully injured. The
missionary, too, began to become more calm and collected,
and yet, while regretting the occasion, he could but think he
had done his simple duty to his insulted wife. Had he been
prepared as he entered the door, he would have shot the sav-
age dead in his tracks.

Harvey picked up his rifle that lay in the middle of the
floor, and approached the prostrate Indian. Alter pushing
and shaking, he gave signs of returning consciousness, and at
length arose to his feet. His nose had bled copiously, and
one eye was “closed,” as if he had been under the manipula-
tion of some pugilist.

Do

The wife brought a basin of water, and ofi'ered a bandage, 

vwbile Harvey proffered his assistance. But the Indian, with.
out speaking, motioned them aside, and made his way out the
floor. 0n the threshold he paused a moment and looked
back—and that look Harvey Richter will remember to his dy-
ing dny.

Both breathed freer when he had gone. They then looked

11!) each other's faces a moment and the wife sunk into her but- »
band's arms.

‘.‘ o w."  99*. d9 fight. Cora?”

‘ “ Yes ‘

;" oh. yes; mt.   who,  91 It

     

 

A. s ._...Ns 17...,

“ Cora, has he ;

   
  
    
 

  
 

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ho 

   

mnr‘s mxmm D
You have made an enemy of that Indian, and he can never

be made a friend."
“ Such is often the result of doing your simple duty. Le!

m,therefore trust to God and say no more about it. Ah!
.here comes Teddy."
The In‘shman at this moment entered the door. He was

Itill under the influence of liquor though he made ludicrous
shorts to conceal it. The wife found opportunity to commu-
nicate to her husband all that had been told her, tefore the
conversation had progressed far. The peril which she had
so narrowly escaped decided the missionary to be severely

_ just with his servant.

“ Teddy, where have you been?”

“Won‘t that spake for itself ?" he replied,hol'ding up a
handsome string of fish. “ Begun-ah, but it was mighty pa )1'
luck I had hunting.”

“I should judge you had discovered something unusual
from your strange actions."

The face of the Irishman flushed scarlet, and his condeinn
was distressing. “ Teddy," he continued, “I am displeased at
the manner in which you have acted for the last week or two.
Had it not happened that I left the village sooner than usv‘tl
to-day, most probably my wife and daughter would have been

’ killed.”

The fellow was comp "tely soberedi

“ What is it ye say, Mister Harvey?”

“ For several days you have failed to return in the time ynu
promised, so that I haVe been compelled to leave them alone
and unprorected. This allernoon, an Indian came in the house
and threatened the life of both my wife and child—”

“ Where the (livil is he ?” demanded Teddy, springing up

I’ll brake ivory bone in his body.” .

“ He is gone, never to return I trust"

“ Be the powers! if 1 could but maat him-4“ ~

“ Do not add iitlsehooi to your conduct. He said that you

ltd he have met constantly and drank liquor together."

The expression or blank amazement was so genuine and
laughable that the missionary could hardly repress a smile. He
(hit that his last remark was hardly fair. Teddy finally bunt
01' '

  

  

,m LOST'TRAII.

 
 

4 V

x

 

y‘f’j’l‘was that owld Mahogany copperskin; but did I in!

’xpact he was up to sick a trick and he would niver have Paved

me a-fishing. Oorah. oorah I” he muttered, gnashing his teeth ‘

together. “ What a miserable fool I have been.
here and insult me mistress after professin‘ the kindest regards.

He to come

i

<

May I be made to eat rat-tail files for potaties if iver I trust 

ed-skin honor again I”

“ It strikes me that you and this precious savage had be-
mine quite intimate.
would have left us and lived with him altogether.”

The tears trickled down Teddy’s cheeks, and he made at -
swer in a meek, mournful tone:

“ Plaise forgive me, Mister Harvey, and Miss Cora Yeee
both knows I would die for yees, and it was little I dr‘amed of
a savage iver disecrating this house by an ungentlemanly act.
Teddy never'll sarve yees the like agin."

“ I have no faith in the promises of a man who is intern-
perate."

The Irishman raised his hand to heaven:

“May the good Father above strike me dead if I iver swal-
low another drop I Do yees belave me now, Mister Harvey?”

“ You must not place the reliance in your own power,
Teddy. Ask His assistance and you’ll succeed.”

“I'll do so; but, ye sea, the only mill where I could get
the cursed stuff was of this same Indian, and as I politely
towld him I’d practice wid me gun on him if he offered me
anither drop, and, as I’d pick him off now, utter this shine,
as quick as I would a sax-pent, it ain’t likely he'll bother me
“gin.” ‘

I suppose in a few weeks longer you}

“ I hope not. but I have the same apprehension as Com ‘

that he will return when we least expect him. We must
manage so that we are never both away from the house at the
some time. It is now getting well along in the afternoon.
Teddy; you may prepare your fish for supper.”

The Irishman obediently moved away, and the young min
tasty and his wife were left together.

  

 
 

  

matron . It

CHAPTER V.
eons!

Alas, alas, fair Inez, .
She went away with at ng

In sounds that sang Farcwel., Farewell
To her you've loved so long.—H00n.

Ammss or watchfulness is sure to succeed the accent ’
phslnnent of an enemy’s designs. The moment danger is

7 is over, then the most vigilant preparations against it are

made The burglar knows better than to visit the same house
two nights in succession. He is wise enough to wait until
time has lulled the inmates into fancied security.

With such an interest at stake as had Harvcv Richter. one
may well believe that no precaution was neglected which could
operate to defeat the designs of the savage whom he had
driven in anger from his door. He changed his hour of
visitation from the afternoon to the forenoon. Teddy needed
no admonition against leaving the house during his absence.
He kept watch and ward over the house as if he would atone
by vigilance for past shortcomings.

The missionary had dwelt long enough among the Indians
to gain a pretty accurate estimate of their character. What
troubled him most, therefore, was a conviction that the savage’l
revenge, though delayed for ten years, for want of the conve«
nient opportunity, was sure to be accomplished. He might
have gone immediately to the north or east, there to remain
with his own tribe until convinced that the moment had come
to strike the blow—a blow which no human influence, no
personal danger, no suffering, could persuade him from inflict
ing upon the ofi'ending white man. ‘

But there was no certainty even of delay. Did the savage
believe the moment to strike propitious, he would be ready
for the trial. Even then, he might be skulking in the woods;
with his black eyes fixed upon the cabin. 'It will be, per-
ceived, that, did he contemplate the death of either of the
parties concerned, he could have compassed it without dim-
eulty. Opportunities offered every day 'for‘the fatal bullet to
 its mark; but them” to the Indian“: so put

 

    

    
 
 

 
  
   
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 

 

      

‘ with

a  Los'r man.

that he contemplated a far sweeter compensation than death
itself. Whatever that might be, time would be sure to de-
Ielop it, and that, too, at the moment when least expected.

This fear became so ever-present and troublesome, that the
missionary made it known in the village, where he could
command the services of half a hundred warriors. A dozen
at once made search through the woods to ascertain whether
the savage was concealed tnywhere in the vicinity. One of
 chanced upon a tra.l, which, after following some dis
lance, was lost in the river. This, however, he pronounced to
be the trail of a white man. The suspected Indian, evidently,
had tied, and no trace was discovered of him.

Another source of annoyance was opened to Harvey. Since
the shot at Teddy, nothing had occurred to remind them of

the-existence of the strange hunter, whose mysterious warn-

ings had accompanied their advent into the country. Richter

could not believe that the man had left altogether, but re-

garded his actions with considerable equanimity, as it was
apparent that his warning shots were intended rather to
frighten than to kill. Harvey never would converse with his
wife about this white foe, and had cautioned Teddy not to
allude to him in her presence. The missionary had a strong
hope that, some day, he would be brought face to face with
this stranger, when an explanation would be secured and the
annoyance ended. He therefore repeated his warning to the
Irishman not to shoot the hunter, unless compelled to do so
to save. his own life; but rather to use every effort to secure
him and bringhim to the cabin.

About a week otter the occurrence narrated, Teddy went
fishing, leaving the husband and wife together. He followed
the shore of the river about a half-mile downward, when he
settled himself by a huge rock that projected a few feet into the,
water. He had Just thrown his line into the stream, when
he heard, the crackling of bushes behind him, and, turning,
any. the hunter, walking in a direction parallel with the river,

. with  bent, asif in thought. Apparently he was un~

mphjouaofthepresence of any one. _
,  at once sunkdown to screen himself as he watched
mmvemssst, mashifqemat .0: all. .xiisinnejof.,pétién°°
himselflhat lie  mas hire at home; hid 

 

 

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; only the arms that natu e had furnished him. Still, here-
1'3 palved that the man shotld be secured, if possible.

A TUSSLE WITH THE HUNTER.

  

“ Amh, now, be aisy l” he whispered, “ and you may catch
a fish that didn’t nibble at yer bait. Whishtt but do‘ye m
him ? But isn’t he a strappin’ follow, to be sure—a. raal
Shank ten foot long, with claws like an alligator l"

The hunter walked but a few rods, when he seated himself
upon a fallen tree, with his back toward the Irishman. Thl.
was the coveted opportunity. .

“ Yees have got the fellow now, Teddy, barring yees haven‘t

got him at all, but that ain’t saying ye won’t get him. Be
aisy now, and don’t get excited! Jist be as wise as a rat
and as still as a mouse, and yc'll catch the oatamount, if he
don‘t catch you, that is." ,
' These self-admonitions were much needed, for the fellow
was all tleinulous with excitement and scarcely able, to re.
strain himself. Waiting a few moments until he could tone
down his nerves, he commenced making his way toward his
Victim. He exercised extreme caution until within a nod.
when a twig snapped under his foot. He made ready to
spring, for he was certain of being discovered; but, to his
surprise, the hunter made no motion at all. He evidently
was so absorbed in some matter as to be unconscious of what
was passing around.

Slowly and stealthin Teddy glided toward the man, until
he arose almost in the standing position, not more than I foot
distant. Then slowly spreading out his arms, so as to in-
close the form of the stalwart woodsman, he brought them
together like a vice, giving utterance at' the same time to an
exultsnt “whoop.”

“Yer days of thramping this counthry, and alarming pace-
sble inhabitants are done wid, Mister Anaconda. So jis‘
but] over gracefully, say tin Ave Marius, and consider your
Ielt‘ in the hands of Gabriel sint for judgment." ‘

All this time Teddy had been straining and hugging at. the
hunter as if determined to crush him, while he, in tum, had
taken it very coolly. and now spoke in his gruff bass voice:

u ht go P1 ‘

f‘Let. go! Well noug'taats“‘impudint 5’6 wk?! A! it;

 new“ ".weuld We; hook w ,“na an. on

  
   

  

       

,i.

a rm: LOST 7mm.

    
    
   
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
       
   
     
   

 

  

linker, whiL he had got hold of a sturgeon. Be alsy now:

. . . . . in
I'll squaze the glzzard and liver 1v yetog1ther,1f ye duem'tg ' ~

-s
yield gracefully.” 1: mt
“ Let go, I say! Do you hear '2" .5 W

“ Yis, I hears, and that is the extint—" r]
Teddy’s next sensation was as if a thunderbolt had .b‘ll’fll I H
beneath his feet, for he was hurled headlong full half a to? 135.
wer the head of the hunter. Though considerably bruised  4d
he was not stunned by the fall, and quickly recovered ‘
Scratching his head, he cried: 1 ho,

“ Begorrah, but yees can‘t repute that trick l" making a rush i mg
toward his antagonist, who stood calmly awaiting his onset. ‘ mil

“ By heavens, I’ll give you something different then i" said i. '
the man, as he caught him bodily in his arms, and running  we
to the edge of the river, flung him sprawling into it. The ‘ WE
water was deep, and it required considerable struggling to M
reach the shore. ‘ T“

This last prodigious exhibition of strength inspired the ;_ as
Irishman with a sort of respect for the stranger. Teddy had  wi
found very few men, even among frontiersmen and Indians, 5p
who could compete with him in a hand-to-hand struggle; yet, i F5
there waslnow no question but what he was overmatched, and 4‘ w
he could but admire, in a degree, the man who so easily han- l
dled his assailant. It was useless to attack the enemy after c]

. such a repulse; so he quietly seated himself upon the shore. Q
“Would ye have the kindness, ye assassinating disciple of
the crowner’s jury, whin yees have jist shown how nater ya
can dishpose of a man likes meself, to tell me why it was you
run so mighty harrd whin I took once before after yees!
Why didn’t ye pause, and sarve me then jist as ye have done?
I’d jist like to knew tha, before we go any further wid this
natter."

“ It wasn’t because I feared you !" said the hunter, turning
sullenly away, and walking into the wood.

“ Farewell i’ called out Teddy, waving his hand to“ ard
him. ‘f Ye’re a beauty, and yees have quite taking ways will
,0; but it wouldn’t be safe for me to find yees lurking about

the cabin,“ I had a- ‘rifle in me hand. You‘d have “trouble

a his; a when 011' as” ye flung mé’é ,..Be .5399“, b?” m"

any sane  News rn m s  wanes,

  

  
  

_A mom ms 55

 which I niver had, that that fellow could draw the Missimippl
5 lap-stream if he was fairly hitched on to it. Ah, Teddy, you
 ain’t much, either all," he °dded, looking dolefully at his wet
‘ garments. ,
m“ , Teddy had been so con. pletely outwitted that he was un-
1‘ 3‘, 5 wi‘ling any one should know it. so he resolved to continue
“at H‘lsning emu his clothes were thoroughly dry, and until he
‘ and se :ured enough fish to repay him for his journey. It was

‘ed  near the middle of the afternoon, and, as he had remained at
15!. l home until the return of the young missionary from the vil—
’L  Inge, there was nothing to disturb his labor, or sport as it
2;“ 5 might be called, except darkness itself.

{n During this same afternoon, Harvey Richter and his wife
‘ g  Were sitting on a bench in front of their cabin. The day was

it]:  Wann, but, as the bench always was shaded, it was the ordi-
; nary resort of the young couple when the weather was sultry.
: The missionary had been reading, but the volume was laid
he  aside, and he was smilineg watching his wife as she‘sported
ad I with the boy in her lap. The little fellow was in exuberant
:s’ i spirits, and the ‘parents, as a matter of course, were delighteJ.
"L' 1 Finally he betrayed signs of weariness, and in a few moments
Id ' was asleep in his mother’s arms. '
“7 i “ I think it was a wise thing, for several reasons——that or
3’ Changing your hour from the afternoon to the forenoon,” said
‘ the wife.
if “ Why do you think so?"
a “ We all feel more wearied and less inclination at this time
I; 0f day for work than we do during the earlier hours. We
could then be little together, but now nothing interferes with
3 our afternoon‘s enjoyment of one another’s society.”

I
i
i “ That is true; but you see the Indians are more likely to
1} be olf fishing or hunting during the earliu part of, the day.
They have willingly conformed, however, to the change.”
“I think it is more in accordance with your own disposi
“on,” smiled the wife, “is it not ‘2" ‘
“ Yes; I am free to admit that my lazy body inclines to
quiet and rest utter partaking of a hearty dinner, as 'I have
‘ ' ream a: a this early stage in our nvm’hop
'fll tthe when we become tinny or forty years elderP'“

    

  
   

 

  

  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     
  
 
    
   
   
       
     

   

53 m LOI'l‘ mm.

“ I refer only to the temporary rest of the lody and mind'
ouch as they must have after periods of labor and excitement “I
Such rest the youngest as well as the oldest requires. Ba 2’",
careful, Cora, you don’t drop the little fellow l” i

“ Never fear,” laughed the mother, as the youngster woke in,
and commenced several juvenile antics more interesting to l
the parents than to any one else.

“ I low lively l” remarked the proud father. “ It seems to

me I never saw a child at his age as bright and animated.” ,
And what father does not hold precisely the same opinion 1

of his young hopeful? 'm
“ Look l” exclaimed the mother, “ some one must be coming

to see you.” he

An Indian woman was discernible among the trees, walking m
along the path at a rapid walk, as if she were greatly hurried.
Her head was bent, but now and then she raised it and wi
glanced toward the cabin, showing that that was her destina- ho
tion. in,

Passing from the shadow of the. wood into the Clearing, the
missionary reengnized one of the worst women of the tribe.
She had scoffed at his preaching, had openly insulted him, and
during the first month or two had manifested a disposition
approaching violence. To this Richter only answered by
kindness; he used every means to conciliate her good-will, to
but thus far with indifferent success. Her husband, The-au- m
o-too, a warrior favorably inclined toward the white man, I
was thoughtful and attentive; and the good minister wondered '
that the savage did not restrain these unwomanly demonstra- I la,
tions upon his squaw’s part. m

She approached with rapid step, until she stood directly in
front of them. Harvey saw that her countenance was agi. Pu,
sated. i ‘ 1“
“Well, At-to-uck," said he, kindly, “you seem troubled “L
Is there any thing I can do for you P” ‘

" Me ain’t trouble," she answered, using English as well as g; .,
her very imperfect knowledge would admit. “ Me ain’t tron. a:

 

lilo—me ain‘t." g .
“ Who ‘may'it be then 1" ' . I, ' , *‘l 7-
“ Them: Hoof—1.: much tmuble. I Sick—in woods-ed}.— § '

Width” ‘

   

m sqoaw’s nmmon. 5‘.

“ail, “What do you mean, At-to-uck ?” asked the missionary,
1‘ ,ihis interest strongly awakened. “ Has any thing hefallen
i your husband?"
‘ “ He fall," she answered, eagerly, catching at the helping

1“ i, word. “ he fall—much hurt—die—die—won’t got well."
w ’ “ Where is be?”
' She spun around on one foot, and pointed deeptr into on
w 1 oods ‘ He dere—lay on back—soon die.”
i “ And he wishes me to see him ; is that it ?“
m  She nodded her head vigorously, but made no answer for a \
moment. Then she suddenly broke forth:
‘3 “ Send At-to-uck to git good man—hurry—berry hurry—

he die—won‘t live. The-nu-o-too say hurry—die soon-
‘8 Won't see good man—Riher." ,

‘1' Harvey looked at his wife. “ What must I do, Cora? ll
will not do to leave you, as Teddy may not return for several
3" hours, and yet this poor Indian should be attended in his dy-
ing moments."

3° “ You should go, Harvey; I will not fear.”
“5' He turned to the squaw in perplexity.

id " How far away is The—au—o-too ?"

in

“ Not much far—soon find—most dead.”

’y “ It may be,” he said in a low tone, “that he can be got

“1 to the house, although it would be no easy matter for us two

"‘ to bring him."

‘1' , “I think your duty calls you to the dying man.”

3d “ I ought t9 be there, but I tell you, Cora, I don’t like this

‘9" ‘ leaving you alone,” said he, impressively. “ You know we
made up our minds that it should never occur again."

in “ There must he occasions when it can not be avcided, and

{i’ this is one of them. By rcfhsing to attend this man, you may

\ not only neglect a great duty, but incur the ill-will of the

Whole tribe. You know the disposition of this woman.”

The latter, at this point, began to give evidence of agitation,

mi} md to remark in her broken accents that The—au—o—too was

“fa dying and would be dead before they could reach him. The

.  “Monet-y, in sore perplexity, looked at his wife. I .

‘ J ' “ Go," she said, or rather signified without speaking, .

I“! .'_l.,” he said, rising with an air of  9006

 

 
 
   

    

   

  

   
 

"I; mnos'r'mur.

“ I trust you never will." ' - .

He kissed the infant. embraced his wife and then signified
ft the squaw to lead the way.

“ Keep up a good heart,” he added, turning, as he moved
away.

The wife smilineg nod 'led her head but said nothing. It .
:,Ii.l not escape the notice of her husband that there were .,
Ears in her eyes, and he half resolved to remain with her ‘
after all, but the next moment he moved on.

The squaw took the well-beaten track, walking very rap-r -
ldly and often looking back to see that she was followed. 
Her strangeness of manner the missionary attributed tohcr
excitement regarding her husband. Several times she exhib-
ited hesitation, and once or twice muttered something that was
unintelligible to him. '

‘ When they were about half-way to the village, she paused.»

“ Well, At-to-uck, what is the matter now ?”

* “ Mebbe dead.”

“ Oh, I hope not," he answered, cheerfully. “ Do you turn
on here 1’”

She answered in the affirmative and asked him to lead the way;

“ No; I am unaequainted, and you ought certainly to know
where to find your dying husband better than I do." ,

She tack the duty of guide upon herself again, and ad-
vanced but a rod, when she abruptly paused: “Hark! hear r
groan? Me hear him.”

Harvey listened intently but heard nothing. Knowing that
the hearing of the Indians is marvelously acute, he believed.
the squaw had heard sounds of distress; but, instead of quick-
oning her steps, she now moved more slowly than ever. ,

" Have you lost your way, At~to-uck 1’”

“ No,” she answered. in a significant voice.

The suspicions ot the missionary that had been slumbering
Core now fully roused.

“ What do you menu then ‘1’”

‘ The squaw turned full around and gave a leer which, if
’possible, made her face more hideous than ever. Without
thinking Harvey caught her by the arm and shook her sharply.
. “Explain this, At—to-uck. What is the meaning of this!“
“Ho-hm! big fool. Them—044x) hunts-no  ” I 3r

 

 

   

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A sharp reproof arose to the missionary’s lips, but deeming
it would b lost upon such a person, he mere‘y turned his
back upon her and walked away. She called and taunted
him, but he was the last man who could have been roused to
anger by such means, and he walked, with his arms foldedg
slowly and deliberately away ‘oward the path.

It had not occurred, as yet, to the mind of Richter that an
thing more than a simple annoyance to himself was comer]
plated by this proceeding; but, as he resumed his steps home 3
ward, a suspicion flashed upon him which almost checked the
beating of his heart. “ God save it Nng so i” was his men-
tal prayer, as he hurried forward. A moment later he was on

‘a full run.

The afternoon was well advanced, ‘vit he. soon caught a
glimpse of his cabin through the trees. Refers this, however.
hehad detected the outcrics of his infan', which struck him
as a favorable omen, and he abated his speed somewhat. But,
as he came into the Clearing, his heart gave a {treat bound, as
he saw his child lying upon the ground some distance from
the house. His anxiety was so distressing that he. dashed by
It into the cabin.

“ Cara, Cora, what is the matter? Where have youconcealed
yourself? Why this untimely pleasantry ?”

He came out again, caught up the infant and attempted to
soothe it, all the time looking wildly about in the hope of see
ing the returning mother. ,

“ Conn! Cons !" he again called in agonizcd tones, but the
woods gave back only the hollow echo. For a few moments
he was fairly beside himself; but, at the end of that time, he
began to reason more calmly. He attempted to persuade him
self that she might return, but it was useless; and with I. sort
of resigned despair, he looked about him for signs of the man
nor in which she was taken away.

The; most convincing evidence was not wanting. Tho
groundwas trampled and torn, as if there had been a violent
struggle; and, inexperienced as were his eyes, he detected the
unmistakable impress of a moccasin upon the sott earth. and

flip the grass. The settle, too, was overturned ard the baby
:hyinthegmss as if tossed there bythe a1ofsomoathel

’.n,'-" 11W;

 

  

   
 

     

CHAPTER v1.

THE LOST TRAIL.

“hm ni ht—the skies were rlondiels blue,
And all around was hushed and still,
Save addle of the light canoe,
An wailing of the whippowill."

On that sunny afternoon, the fish in a particular locality d
I tributary of the Mississippi did not take the bait very well.
The spot to which we refer was that immediately surrounding
Teddy, whose patience was well-nigh exhausted. There he
sat for several tedious hours, but had secured only two nibble!
at his line, neither of which proved to be any thing more.

“ Begorrah, but it must be they’se frightened by meself, when
that ould scalliwag give me a fling into the stream. Jubers!
‘wasn't it done natelyl Hallo l there's a bite, not bigger, to be
sure, than alady’s fut, but a bull-pout it is, I know." '

He instantly arose to his feet, as if he were about to spring
in the water, and stood leaning over and scanning the point
where his line disappeared in the stream, with an intense in-
terest which the professional an‘gler alone can appreciate. But
this, like all others, proved a disappointment, and he soon set-
tled down into his waiting but necessary attitude of rest.

“ A half—hour more of sunshine, and then these same
'pants will be the same as if they’ve niver saan water, barring
it’s mighty seldom they have or they wouldn’t be in. this dirty
eondition. Arrahl what can be the m’aning of that i”.

Faintly but distinctly through the long stretch of woods
came the sound of his name. It was repeated again and again
until the Irishman was convinced beyond all possibility'ot
mistake. -

“ What is, up now?" he asked of himself as he drew in his
line. “That is Mister Harvey’s voice sure, and he is calling

' in though he was in a mighty hurry. Faith, and I must not

' linger! If any thing «Maid happen whin'I was away I’d fésl'  -
 '11 old Boney at Waitherioo whin he lost the day an‘ his _ .~
. ., ,, .

The line was won stowed away, and Teddy 

 

 

 
  
 

 
 

 

M.

 

  

  

A scam. 91

at, a half-walk and ran in a homeward direction. He had
gone about a hundred rods when he paused and listened.
Clearer and more distinctly came his name in tones whose
earnest entreaty could not be mistaken. Teddy rose on his
heels and made reply to the hail. to assure his master, if possi-
ble, that he was approaching with all speed.

The lrishman’s words were yet lingering in his unut’h,
when another and more terribie sound reached his tars. 1.2
was that of a suppressed, half-smothered woman's scream-“a
sort of gasp of terror. It was so short and so far away that
it was impossible to tell its direction. He stopped, his heut
beating like a hammer, but he heard no more.

“ God protect me, but there’s something gone wrong at -
the cabin l” he exclaimed, dashing forward through the w 106
at a reckless rate. A 'few moments later it came in view, and
he then saw his master walking to and fro, in front 01 the
house, with the child in his arms. His manner and deathly
pale face confirmed the forcbodings of Teddy’s heart.

“ What’s the matter, Mister Harvey? What‘s the matter!”

“ That Indian has carried Cora away I" was the agonized
reply.

“ Where has the owld (livil carried her l’” very naturally
asked the Hibernian.

“ I do not know! I do not know! but she has gone, and I
fear we shall never see her again alive.”

“ May me owld head he scraped wid u scalping-knife, an’ me
hands he made into furnace-grates for being away,” ejaculated
the servant, as the tears streamed down his cheeks.

“ No, Teddy, you are not in the least to blame, nor is it
my fault,” impetuously interrupted the missionary.

‘ “ Till me how it was, Mister Harvey.”

The husband again became composed and related what it
already familiar to the reader. At its close, Teddy dashed
nto the house and brought out his rifle. V

“ I’ll murther that At-to-uck, be me sowl, and then I’ll mur-
1her that hathyen assassinamr, an’ iverybody th at gits in me way.
Be the powers of the saints and divils, but I’ll murther s‘mp-

, hodyg May the divil roast me if ‘I—"
y ' " ‘f‘Hold 1” said the missionary, who by this time was him
   .f‘ The first. Nib: attended to is pursuit .i‘s

  

     
  

 

    

 
 

,,
é
must {notlme a second. We can never ‘rollo'w them Junele
through the wood. Hold the child, while I go to the villag‘c
and get some of the Indians to help us.”

Teddy took the child that had cried itself asleep, and tho
misuionary started on a full run up the river. When he
touched the settlement, it required but a moment to make his
errand known. A dozen warriors volunteered at once, for
these dozen would have laid down their lives for their faithful
instructor. Many. of the squams also gave utterance to dis-
mal howls upon learning what had befallen theirpale-faced
sister. Had the missionary chosen to tell the part taken by
At-to-uck in the affair, it may be reasonably doubted whether
her life would have been spared. But he was not the man to
do such a thing. Knowing how anxious Teddy would be to
participate in the pursuit, he secured the wife of one of tho
Christian Indians to return with him, and take charge of the
boy during their absence.

At the time of the missionary’s visit, the chief and his
principal warriors were absent on an expedition to the north.
Although holding little interest himself in the mission of the
minister among his people, he would undoubtedly have led a
party to the search for the audacious savage who had abducted
the reSpected white woman; and, had he been overtaken, a
swift and merciless retribution would have fallen upon the
transgressor’s head.

Harvey Richter deemed it best to take but a. few Indians
with him. Accordingly be selected five that he knew to be
skillful, and with them hurried at once in the direction of his
cabin. He saw with a sinking heart, as he returned, that the
sun was already low in the horizon, and the woods were be-
coming dark and gloomy. Teddy was at his post chafing like
a confined lion.

“ This woman, Teddy, will take care of the boy, so that
you may join us in the search."

{ “Bliss you'for that! It would be the hardest work of mo
1158 to, stay here when I thought there‘s a. chance of gitting is

Tim LOST Titan.

Which at that thaiving villian. Oh, if  could, only git howid '

cg gimgyopnjm l’ave a piece or, him pig . enough 30' on
' " ‘I'think' there’s little steroist  6f \fi'mw

 

 

 

 

l.
I.

pl"
ll

Fi"<

U QQ'QQ

cit-lawn:

mum:

 

 

 

 

 of, the gamers brought tidings of , the lost one. I,

 

  

m 'rmn. nxscovamsn. 

I: glimpse of him. We must rely upon these Indians to take
the trail and follow it V the end.” ' y I '

“They‘re like the bm ads in the owld country, barring they
go on two legs an’ lion's. stick their noses in the ground, nor
howl whin they git on trail. They’re mighty handy to hove
around ye at such a time as this, if they be savages wid only
\ spark of Christianity in ’em not bigger than a tobaccy pipe.”

“It will be impossible, I think, for the savage to concel.
races of his flight, and, if there be any chance of coming up
with him, these men will surely do so." I

“ But suppose Miss Cora should be tomahawked and—”

“ Don’t mention it,” said the missionary, with a shudder.

While these Words were interchanged, the Indians had em
plqyed the time more profitably in solving the meaning of the
footsteps upon the ground. A slight whoop announced the
trail’s discovery, and when the missionary turned, he saw the
whole five gliding ofl‘ in a line through the woods. They
went in “Indian tile,” and resembled a huge serpent making
its way with all swiftness toward its prey.

Our two friends started at once after them. On the edge
of the Clearing Teddy asked, abruptly:

“If the haythen comes back to the cabin while we’s 
gone ‘1"

“ Impossible! he can not.”

“ Spowsen he hides his track in that manner, he may take-

,a notion to gobble up the little boy."

“ He would not dare—"
Nevertheless, the remark of his servant alarmed the mis-
sionary, and he hesitated. There might be foundation for

.what had been said. The savage finding the pursuit too close

to escape with his prey, might slay her and then return
Itealthily to the cabin and dispatch the boy. It would not do
tn leave him alone with the Indian woman.

“ I can afford little assistance in the hunt, and will remain
behind. Hurry on, Teddy, or they- will be too far away for
you to follow.”

The Hibernian shot ofi,‘ through the trees, at a rate that
Ioonexhausted him, while Harvey Richter returned within his
Chin, there to keep company with his'great woeuntilthexy

 

  

 

K

‘ An Indiai m the trail is not likely to permit any trivial
cause to turn him aside, and the five Sioux made rapid pro-
gress so long as the light in the wood allowed them to do so
This, however, was a comparatively short time; and, after
progressing fitfully and uncertainly for several hundred yards,
they finally drew up to wait until the morrow.

The trail, instead of taking the direction of the river, as
its pusuers believed it wou.d, ran precisely parallel to it
30 long as the savage kept away from the stream-~that is, at
long as he did not take to a canoe—his trail could be followed
with absolute certainty, and he be overtaken beyond doubt.
Impeded by an unwilling captive, he could not avoid a rapid
gain upon him by his pursuers; and to escape certain capture,
he must either abandon his prey or conceal his flight by re-
sorting to the river.

It might be, and the pursuers themselves half believed,
that the fleeing Indian did not fear a pursuit by any of
his own race, in which case he could make a leisurely es
cape, as the unpracticed white men could not have followed
him for a. half-mile through the wilderness. If this were
really the case, the Sioux were confident of coming upwith
him before the morrow’s sun should go down.

[THE LOST TRAIL.

The Indians had paused but a few moments, when a great I

tearing and sonnnbling was heard, and Teddy came panting
upon-them.
“ What he yees waiting for ‘1’" he demanded.
“ Can’t go furder—dark—wait till next day."
“ I’m sorry that yeer- didn’t stand it bitter.
ways further meself it yees ’ll be kind enough to show me
the trail.
' ye're too much tired."
“ Too dark—can’t see—wait till sun."
“ Oh! begorrah ! I didn’t understand ye.
[it a good start on us, won‘t he though?”
“ Ain’t Injin—whz‘te man J”
“ A white man, does ye say, that run off wid Miss Cora
Two of the Indians replied in the affirmative. '
Teddy manifested the most unbounded amazement, and

“ Tired out it”

The Injin 'il

Br 3 while, could say nothing. Then he leaped into the air.

struck the sides of his shoes With Us fingers, and mum:

Icangosomov

But, yees don’t pant or blow a bit, so I can’t think .

 
     

 

 

c_-tw~4. Ly ‘ Aw,“

  

 

   

_w

‘1’

wamrwr

it,

 

r yees can’t tell both from which.
‘ (lex- lhe sight of me gun.”

‘ night.
them aside from it until their work was completed, or it was

 

Mivmh. A. _

' his revenge. and oh, he has succeeded how well

 

A EAL’I' TILL Home.

Cg.

'It was that owld hunter, may purgatory take him ! Him

' Ind that owld Mahogany, what made me drunk—blast rhia
,' Bowl—have been hid around in the woods, waiting for a

chance to do harm, and one is so much worse than t'olher
Och! if I but had him un-

Thc spot upon which the Indians and Teddy were standing
Was but a short distance from the village, and yet, instead of
returning to it, they started :1 small fire and lay down for th;
They were upon the trail, and nothing was to turn

utterly lost to them.

Teddy was more loth than they to turn his face backward,
but, under the circumstances, he could not forget the sad,
waiting husband at home. So he returned to the cabin, to
make him acquainted with the result of their labors thus far.

“ If the Indian only avoids the river, he may be overtaken,
but if he takes to that, I am fearful he can never be found."

“ Be me sowl, Mr. Harvey, but thim savages says he‘s not
In Injin, but a white man, and yees know they can not be
mistook, fur they‘ve got eyes like hawks, and sinses sharper

' than me only needle, which, begorrah, hasn’t got a point.”

“ Can it be that Bra— that that hunter has done me thi
great wrong ?” said the missionary, correcting himself so dex-
tl‘ously that his servant failed to observe it. “ Has such been
the revenge that he has been harboring up for somany years?
And he has followed us these hundreds of miles for the pur-
pose of striking the blow l”

“ The owld haythen assassinatorl The bloodthirsty beast,
the sneakin’ dog, the dirthy jail-bird, the—"

“ He has not shot either of us when we were at his mercy
for the purpose of lulling us into security, the better to obtain
I"

The. strong man, whc sui’l sat in the front of his cabir,
Where he might catch the first sound of returning footstepl,
lbw covers-l his face, and his whole form heaved with emo
(ion. Teddy began to feel uncomfortable. He arose, walked

7 ‘9 9nd 11'0. and wiped the tears from his own cheeks. Do-

!Pi'fl his We, however, he recognized in the exclamation. or
 I're'ference'to some mystery which he had 10nd

 
 

  

       
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
     
   
   
   
 
      
       
     

“ m LOST mu.
Inspected, but which had never been cleared up. The mil»
sionary must have met this strange hunter before this encoun-
ter in the wilderness, and his identity, and the cause of his
deadly enmity, must, also, be known. Teddy had a great
curiosity; but, as his master had repulsed his inquiries upon
a previous occasion, he forbore to make any reference to it
He walked backward and forward until the good man‘s enu‘
ion had subsided somewhat, and‘then he said:

“ Good Master Harvey, the owld cabin is so lonely wid the
form of Miss Cora gone, that it's meself that couldn‘t very
well stay here till morning. So, wid yer leave jist,I’ll return
to the Injins, so as to be ready to folly the trail bright and
sirly in the momin’."

“ And how do you suppose I feel, Teddy ?”

“ God save us! It can be no worse than meself.”

“ I am willing that you should go.”

The missionary had need, indeed, for the sustaining power
which can come only from above. The faithful Indian wo-
man remained with his child through the night, while he,
with bare head, and hands griped together, paced backward
and forward until the morrow’s sun had risen. How he
prayed and agonized in spirit during those long, laner hours,
God and himself only know. ‘ When the day had fairly
dawned, he entere; the house, lay down wearily, and slept a
“long and troubled sleep."

With a heavy heart Teddy made his way back through
the woods to where the Indians were congregated. They
were seated around the camp-fire engaged in smoking, but
lid not exchange nor utter a syllable. They all understood

each other, and therefore there was no need of talk. The ’

lrisnman seated himself beside them, and joined an hour or
two in smoking, when they all lay down and slumbered. '
All with the exception of Teddy, who could not sleep. Us
rolled hither and thither, drew deep sighs, and took new pt
sitiens, but it availed nothing. The events of the past day
had driven sleep far from his eyelids, and he soon gave over
the iefi‘ort altogether. Rising to a sitting position, he scratched
his  (which was significant only of abstraction of thought),
 meditativer into the smoldering-embers. i *

, smeared th'u‘s an idea sudden‘lY'came “"h‘m'm 
r .

 

g

won—"~—

'YHH‘

q

mnv’s mvanm. 87

‘  him instantly to his feet. The I let that it had not

occurred to the Indians he attributed to their inferior shrewd
uess and sagacity. He recalled that the abduction of the

" young wife took place quite late in the afternoon; and,as she

must be an unwilling captive of course, she would know
enough to hinder the progress of the man so as to afford her
friends a chance to overtake them. Such being the case, the
hunter would find himself compelled to encamp for the night.
Ind therefore he could be but a short distance away. The
more the Irishman reflected, the more he became convinced
that his view was right; and, we may state, that for once, at!

 

‘ least, his supposition had a foundation to stand upon.

l The matter, as has been evident from the first to the
? l‘fiader, rested entirely upon the impossibility of following the
r trail at night. Thus far it had maintained its direction par-

allel with the river, and he deduced that it must continue to
L do so. Such being the case, the man could be reached as
: Well during the darkness as daylight.

Teddy concluded not to awaken the savages, as they would
hardly coincide with him. So he cautiously rise to his feet.
,‘md walking around them, made off in the darkness. He
was prudent enough to obtain an idea of the general direction

, b“are starting, so as to prevent himself going astray; after
i Which be pressed the pursuit with all possible speed. At in-
: lel'vals he paused and listened, but it seemed as if every thing
‘V. “(Naming himself was asleep. He heard no sound of animal
 01' man. He kept his eyes flitting hither and thither, for he
d hopes of chancing upon the camp-fire of the abductor.

in the woods. If they be of any extent, it requires extraor.»

 It is always a difficult matter to keep one’s “reckoning”
1

; d“litry precautions upon ‘he part of an inexperienced person

‘ ‘0 prevent himself from 'eing lost. Should he endeavor to
“ave-1 by night, it would be almost a miracle indeed if he

» Willi! save himself from going totally astray.

. Teddy had every disadvantage to contend against, and he .
um journeyed a half-hour, when his idea of his own po-
“011' was just the opposite of truth. As he had not yet be-_

fem aware of it, however, it‘perhaps was just as well as if

ghad'committed no error. Hewas pressing titratiard, 
um peculiar impeding feeling that it was only necessary to

 

  

 

 

” mnoe-rmn.

do so ultimately to reach his destinatkn, when a stat 11h
glimmer caught his eye. T;ddy stopped short, and his heart
gave a great bound, for he believed Th’efill-important oppor-
tunity had now come. He scanned the light. narrowly. but
it was only a flickering point, such as a lantern would give
It a‘ great distance at night. The light alone was visible, lat
no tlame. It was impossible to form any correct idea if lb
ocatiou, although, from the fact that the nature of the WW?
must prevent the rays penetrating very far, he was pretty ca
Iain it was comparatively close at hand.

With this belief he commenced making his way toward it,
as movements certifying his consciousness that a mis-stfip
would prove fatal. To his dismay, however, he had advanced
out a dozen steps or so when the light disappeared. and be
round it impossible to recover it. He moved from side to
side, mrward and backward, but it availed nothing. and he
was abom. to conclude it had been extinguished, when he re-
treated to his starting-point and detected it at once.

Keeping his eye fixed upon it, he now walked slowlv. but
at the same point as before it disappeared. This, he raw.
must arise from some limb, or branch, or tree interfering. and
it only remained for aim to continue advancing in the same
line. Having proceeded a hundred rods or so. he began to
wonder that he stilt tailed to discover it. Thinking he miyht
be mistaken in the distance, ne went forward until he “as
sure he had passed far beyond it, wuen he turned and looked
behind him. Nothing but the din) figures of the tree-tr .anfl
rewarded his gaze.

Fully a half-hour was spent in wanderlng to and fro in the
mrtlicr efl'orts to locate the light that nad caught his eye, and
he finally sought to obtain his first stand-point. Whether bu
succeeded 'or not Teddy never could tell, but he never saw
nor learned uny thing more regarding the camp-tire to which
he was confident he had been in such close proximity.

About th-s time, which was in the neighborhood of mid _ V
night, Teddy made the discovery that he Was lost, and, like 0 ‘, j
sensible person, gave up all efforts to right himself: He w. .
I9 Varied that he did not awake until daylight, when to
Ins aroused by the five Indians. whose trail-hunt led In. 0

the 's‘pot where he lay sleeping;

 

  

m mu. LOST. ID

The trail was now followed rapidly for a half-mile when, as
the pursuers had feared all along, it made a sudden bend to
the river, upon the banks of which it was totally lost. Not
to be bathed in this manner, a canoe was produced with which
three crossed the river. The entire day was spent by these
upon one bank. while the two other Indians and Teddy pur-
sued the Search for traces of the hunter's landing upon their
"we side of the stream. Not the slightest evidence was dis

overedthot he had touched shore after embarking. The man

had escaped. and even the eagle-eyed Sioux were compelled

v on the second night to return to their village with the sad an
nouneement that the TEAL! wns Los'rl

x

CHAPTER VII.

A mERNIAN’B SEARCH FOR THE TRAIL.

“ Ohi let me only breathe the air.
The blessed air that‘s breathed by' the»;
And. whether on its wings it hear
Healing or death. ‘tis sweet to me."
. AT the close of a windy, blustering day in 1821, two men
' were seated by a camp-fire in the depths of the wilderness of
the north-west. The wind howled through the branches with
a moaning sound sueh as often heralds the approach of bitter
cold weather; and a few feathery flakes of snow that sailed
: along on the wind, proved that the season of storms was close
at hand.
The fire was built down deep in a sort of gorge, where it!
heery, crackling blaze could not be seen by any one until he was
early upon it. The men sat with their pipes in their mouths,

 

' 5 dently feels at home in his new situation.

heir rifles beside them and their feet toward the fire. From
 ppeumnces they were on the best of terms. One of them

needs no introduction. as he is our old friend Teddy, who evi-
The other is I
-f' not; much the same buildelthough somewhat older. His
.- ‘zbe. when it is not concealed by a. heavy, grizzly heal-dds
 covered by numerous scars, and the harder of one eye h
 a

 

 

 

   

:0 THE ms'r mam

.i.
disfigured from the same cause. His dress and monument!
betray the hunter and trapper. '

“ And so, Teddy, ye‘rc sayin’ It war a white man that took
away the missionary‘s wife, and hsin’t been heard on since.
Let me see, you said it war nigh onto three months ago,
warm it ?"

‘ Three months, come day after to-morrow. Begorrah, but

it’s not I that‘ll l'orgil that same (late to my dying day, if, in pd

dude, I forgit it at all, at all, even whin somebody else will b\
wearin’ me clothes.” _

“It was a dirty trick, freeze me if it wasn’t; but you can
dun find a white man to do a mean trick, when you can’t a
copperskin; that you may set down as a p’inted fact,
Teddy."

“Ibelavcs ye, Mister Tim. An Indian is a poor mean
thing at the bist, an’ their squaws—kah ! they are the dirtiest
beasts that iver jabbered human lingo; an’ their babies, I
raaly belaves, is caught with a hook an’ line in the muddy
creeks where the catfish breed ; but, t‘ur all that, I don’t. think
they could have been equal to this piece of wickedness. May
the divil git howld of his soul. Blazes, but won't there be
a big squeal in purgatory when the divil gits howld of him I"
And Teddy seemed to contemplate the imaginary scene in
Hades with a sense of intense satisfaction.

“ But it’s powerful strange you could never git on the traih
[don’t boast of my own powers, but I‘ll lay if I’d been in
the neighborhood, I'd ’ve found it and stuck to it like a blood'
hound, till I‘d 'vc throttled that thievin' wretch.”

“ The Sioux spent the bitter part of the day in the s’arch,

an’ ineselt‘ an’ siveral other savages has been looking ivor 17

Iince, and none of us have got so much as a saint of his shoe
had luck to him.” !
“ But, Teddy, what made him do it ‘2" asked the trapper, :
turning his keen, searching eyes full upon him. '
“ There's where I can’t answer yeeS.” .
“ There be some men, I allow, so infernal mean they’ll do
I mean thing just ’cause they like to do it, and it might be
he's one of them.”

“ It’s meselt‘ that belaves he howlds some spite agin MW I L
Harvey for mmething done in years 33 me, and has taken thi ; -

   

 

 

 

 

 

  

sol:

go) ’

nt‘
in w

 

crf

 

 

 

H as,

I

 

TEDDY nm rm; TRAPPER. 71
manna of revinging himself upon the good man, as I am It!"
niver did one of his fellow-creatures any harm.” '

“ It may be there’s been ill-blood a long time atween ‘em,
lmt the missionary couldn’t a done uothin’ to give the repeat]-
yliion cause to run off with his wife, ’less he’d run off with this
hunter's old woman before, and the hunter was paying him
(hr it.”

“ Git out wid yer nonsense i” said Teddy, impatiently. “ I
couldn’t been a great deal, or if it was, it couldn't been done
purposely, for I’ve growed up wid Mister Harvey, and kuowed
him ever since he was knee high to a duck, and he. was at-
ways a boy that did more praying than fighting. The idea
of his harming any one. is pre-poe-te-trous. After the lmythen
‘had fired at us, the good man actilly made me promise not
to do the wretch hurt if the chance was given me; and a
mighty foolish thing, for all it was Master Harvey who towld
me, fur I’ve had a chance or two at the spalpaan since. Oh
blissed Virgin, why didn’t I cut his wizzen for him whin I
could have done it—that is, if I could !"

“ And you’ve been huntin’ ’im these three or four month!
be you ‘3”

“The same, yer honor. huntin' constantly, niver losing a
day rain or shine, wid Indians an’ widout ’ein, cold, hungry
and tired. but not a day of rist."

“ Freeze me then, if you haven't got grit. Thar ain’t many
that would track through the woods that ar long. And yo
haven‘t caught a glimpse of the gal nor heard nothin' of her ?"

“Not a thing yet; but it’s meself that ’xpacts to ivery
an ‘n

{In course, or ye wouldn‘t keep at the business. But
I'pose, my friend, you go on this way for a year more—who
then ?" ' ‘

“As long as I can thravel over the airth and Miss Cont
isn‘t found, me faat shall niver flnd rest.”

The trapper indulged in an incredulous smile.

“ You’d be doing the same, Tim, if yees had iver laid syn
on Miss Cora or had iver heard her speak,” said Teddy“
as his eyes filled with tears. “ God bliss her! she was worth
3 thousand such lives as mine—"

i “ ’t say nothin’” interrupted the trapper, endeavor-ll.

 

  

    

    

THE LOST TRAIL.

to conceal his agitation; “I’ve l’urned years ago what thnt
business is. The copperskins robbed me of a prize I’ll never
git agin, long afore you‘d ever seen one of the infernal be
tugs.”

“ Was she a swateheart ‘3”

“ Never mind—ne'er mind; it’ll do no good to sp. Ik of ".
Dow. She’s gone—that‘s enough."

“ How do you know she can‘t be got agin, whin—”

“ She was tomalmwked nfore my eyes—ain’t that enough '3"
demanded the trapper, indignantly.

“ I axes pardon, but I was under the impression they had
run away with her as they did with Miss Cora."

“ Hung ’em, no! If they’d have done that I’d have chased
’em to the Pacific ocean and back ngin afore I’d give ’em up.”

“ And that’s what mcself intends to do regarding Miss
Cora.”

“ Yer see, yer don’t know much about red-skins and their
devilments, and, therefore, it‘s my private opine, insrcad of
getting the gnl, they‘ll git you, and there‘ll be the end on’t.”

“Tim, couldn’t yees make the s‘urch wid me 1*" asked Teddy.
in a deeply earnest voice. The trapper shook his head.

“ Like to do’t, but can’t. It’s time I was up to the beaver
runs this night and had my traps set. Yer see I’m compelled
to be in St. Louey at the end of six months and huin’t got a
day to spare.”

“Mister Harvey has money, or, if he hasn't, he has friends
in St. Louis, be the same token, that has abundance of it, and
you’d find it paid you bitter in the ind than catching poor, in-
nocentbeu'vers, that niver did yees harm."

“I don’t foller sich business for money, but I’ve agreed to

' be in St. Louey at the time I was tellin’ you, and it‘s ullers 8
{'int of honor with me to keep my agreements."

“ Couldn’t yees be doing that, and this same thing, too ?"

I“ Can‘t do’t. S‘pose I should, git on the trail that is lost,
an yer tell me how fur 17d have to roller it? Yer sec I’ve
been in that business afore, and know what it is. Me and

three others once chased a band of Blackfeet, that had carried ;
of! an old man, till we could see the peaks of the Rocky,

Hpnntfineand git a taste of the breath of wind that coma
down fi'om their ice and snow in middle summer.”

 

 

 

952K

, “1—,

 

 

 

 

m mama’s OPINION. fl
“ Didn’t yees pursue the subject any further ‘3"
“ We went fur enough to find that the nimble-footed dog!
had got into the mountains, and that, if we wanted to keep
our ha‘r, we’d only got to undertake to t‘oller ‘em than 80
we just trumped back agin, havin’ our trouble for nothiu’.”
“ Wasn‘t that about as poor a business, for yees, as this be

>flu‘ me, barring yecs was hunting for an old man and l‘u‘

Hunting for a young woman ‘3" .

“It warn’t as fooliSh by a long shot, ’cause we war on (h g
hail all the time, and kept it, while you’ve lost yours, and
have?“ be able to find it agin. We war so close more nor
Once that we reached their camp-tires afore the embers had
died out, and from the tops of two, three hills we got a glimpse
on ’em on thar horses. We traveled all night a good many
tunes, but it done no good as they done the same thing, and
We found we war further away, if any thing, next morning
than we war at sundown. If we’d ever lost the trail so as
not to find it, we‘d guv up and come home, but we never done
that nor never lost more nor an hour in lookin' for it. You
lee," added the trapper, impressively, “ you never have found
the trail, and, therefore, there ain‘t the shudder of a chance.”

“ Begorrah, yees can't blame us whin we trifld to the bis‘.
"f our indeavor to find it and wasn't able.”

“ Yer done the best yer knowed, I s'pose; but why didn'
four on ’em divide so as to let one go up one side the river
and one t’other, and the same way down-stream. Yer don’t
8’pose that feller was able to keep paddlin‘ forever in the river,
d0 yer? and jist so soon as he landed, jist so sure would out:
Of them Sioux find the spot where he touched land, and fol-
ler him to his hole.”

“ Begormh, if wees had only thought of that l"

“ A Sioux is as cunning a red-skin as I ever found, and it!
fist my on'me every one of 'em did think of that same thing
but they didn’t try it for fear they might catch the varmlnt
They knew their man, rest assured o’ the. ."

Teddy looked up as if he did not comprehend the meaning
of the last remark.

“ 'Cordin’ to yer own showin’, one of them lnt‘arnal compel»
pl: was at the bottom of the hull business, ard it's like u not
Women knowed about it. too, and didn’t want 0 catch the golf

  

i u m LOST/ mm

9‘ There's where was are mightily mistook, as Pat McGulrI
laid whin his landlord called him honest, for ivery one of

them same chocolate-colored gintlemen would have done their

bist for Master Harvey. They would have cut that thaif’s win
zen wid a mightyigood will, I knows."

“ Mebbe so, but I don’t believe it !" said the hunter, with In
incredulous shake of his head.

1 “ Would ye have me give up the s’arch altogethex 1’”

“ Can’t say that I would; howsumever, the chance is sub,
and ye’d better go west with me, and spend the winter in l’nming
how to trap fur beaver and otter.” ‘

“ What good might result from that?”

"‘ None, as I knows on.”

“. Then it‘s meself that thanks yees for the offer and respectful- '

ly declines to accept the nomination. I’ll jist elict meselt to the
office of sherifl' an’ go about these regions wid a s’arch-warrim
in my shoes that’ll niver let me rist until Miss Cora is found.“

“ Wal, I ’spose we’ll part in the momin’ then. As yer am
this are the first time you’ve got as fur north, I’ll say I think
you’re nearer the trail than yer ever war yit.”

“ What might be the reason for that ?” eagerly asked Teddy

' “ I can’t say what it is, only I kind 0’ feel it in my bones
Thar’s a tribe of copperskins about a hundred miles to tho
north’ard, that I’ll lay can tell yer sometkz'n’ about the gal.”

' “ Indians? An’ be what token would they be acquaint
with her ‘2”

“ They‘re up near the Hudson Bay Territory line, and be a
harmless kind of people. I stayed among ‘em two winters and
found ’em a harmless lot 0’ simpletons that wouldn’t hurt a hair
0’ yer head. Thar’s allers a lot of white people staying among

! rem.”
I‘ a “ I fails yit to see what they could be doing with Miss Com. ’

“Mind Itells yer only what I thinks—amt what I knowt.
It‘s my private opine, then, that that hunter has took the gal
up among them Injins, and they’re both living than If that
be so, you needn’t be afeard togo right among ’em, for It)!

only thing yer’ll have to look out fur will be the same on: "

hunter hixnse ."

’ /  remark made a deep impression upon Teddy. He Id’ 
Imomfl his pipe, and gazing into the glowing embers. as l’; }

 
 

 
 

 
 

 

 

 
  
 

 

“—-‘

  

 

 

i

   
 
 
 
 

 

  

ms Anvrcx 1:0 mar. 
he could there trace out the devious, and thus far invisth
trail that had buflied him so long. It must he confessed that
the search of the Hibernian thus far had been carried on in a
Manner that could hardly be expected to insure success. He,
had spent weeks in wandering through the woods, sleeping
upon the ground (1' in the branches of some true, fishing for
twhie in some stream, or hunting for game—impelled 011“ (ml
til the time by his unconquerable resolve to find Cora Richu-

ind return her to her husband. 0n the night that the five
853m: returned to the village, and announced their abandon-
ment of the pursuit, Teddy told the missionary that he should
nevm' see him again, until he had gained some tidings of his

beloved mistress, or had become assured that there could be

“0 hope of her recovery. How long this peculiar means of
hunting would have gone on, it is impossible to tell, but most
PTObably until Teddy himself had perished, for there was not
the shadow of a chance of his gaining any information of the
1Mt one. His meeting with the trapper was purely accidental,
and the hint thrown out by the latter was the reason of set-
ting the fellow to work ’J the proper way.

The conversation was carried on for an hour or so longer,

_ during which the trapper gave Teddy more advice, and told

him the best manner of reaching the tribe to which he referred.
He cautioned him especially against delaying his visit any
longer, as the northern winter was almost upon them, and
Should he be locked in the wildemess by it, it would be al-
most impossible for him to survive its rigor; but if he'
should be among the tribe, he could rest in security and com-
fort until the opening of spring. Teddy concluded to do as

his companion advised, and, after more unimportant conv: r-
‘sntion, both stretched themselves out by the camp—fire and

lie t. ,

East as the earliest light was breaking through the trees,
the trapper was on his feet, rekindling the fire. Finding
met this was completed, that Teddy stlll slumber-ed In
brought him to his senses by several t’omibleapplicatious wl‘
his foot.

‘ “Begomhdt’s meself that’s thinking yees ’av a miglty
m my‘of coining- upon one unawares, barring it’s the.
"In!" as a kick from a wild horse. I was dr’aming list this

 

  

 

'N m Los'r run.

of a blast of powder in a stone quarry, which exploded undu
me feet, an’ sint me up in the ship‘s rigging, an’ there I hung
by the eaves until a lovely girl pulled me in at the front (’00:
and shut it so hard that the chinking all fell out of the . tgs,
and woke me out of me pleasint delusions.”

The trapper stared at the Irishman increduously. thinking
him demented. Teddy’s gaping and rubbing of his eyes with
his fists, and, finally, his stretching of arms and legs, reassured
Tim of the fellow’s sanity, and he added:

“If yer hadn‘t woke just now, I’d tried ef lemmin’ ye.
over the head would’ve done any good.”

“ Yees might have done that, as long as ye plaised, fur me
sconce got used to being cracked at the fairs in the owld
country.” .

“ I thought yer allers lived in this country." I

“Not always, or how could I be an Irishman? God phase
I may niver live here long enough to forgit owld Ireland, the
Gim of the San. What’s the matter with yees now ?”

The trapper having wandered a few yards from the camp-
fire, had paused suddenly and stood gazing at the ground.
Teddy was obliged to repeat his question.

“ What is it yees have diskivered ?"

“ Sign, or yer may shoot me.”

“Sign 0’ what 7”

“ Injins, ye wood-head! What else could 1 mean i"

Teddy now approached and narrowly examined the ground.
His knowledge of wood-cred. had been considerably increased
during the past month or two, and he had no difficulty in lis-
tinguishing the imprint of a moccasin.

“ Look at the int‘arnal thing i" exclaimed the trapper, in dis-
gust. “ Who’d a thort there'd ’vc been any of the warmints
about, whin we took sich pains with our fire. Why the chat.
didn’t send a piece of cold lead into each of our bread-taskctt
is more nor I can tell. It would’ve sarved is both
right." ‘

“ P’raps thim tracks there was made fornenst the night, and
that it’s ourselves that was not here first.”

“Don’t yer s'pote I know all about that!” demanded the
trapper, savagely. _ “ Them tracks was made not more'n than
other hours ago.” v

 

  

 

 

   

 

... .__. ,s-.. A

 

 

. Dining captive.
I ‘W in a network of briers and brambles. Canning

TEDDYOIIA‘I’ILIL. fl

 

As he spoke, Tim turned and followed it a rod or two, and
then, as he came back, said:

“Ef I had the time I'd foller it; but it goes just t’othel
way from what I want to go. I think like ‘nough it leads to
the village that you want to find: so if yer’d like one of 'em
to introduce yer to the rest on ’em, drive ahead and muko his
acquaintance. Maybe he kin tell yer something about the

31." r

Teddy determined to follow the trail by all means. H
partook of the morning meal with the trapper, exchanged a
pleasant farewell, and then the two parted never‘to meet
again.

The footprints were distinct and easily followed. Teddy
advanced with long, loping strides, at a gait considerably more
rapid than his usual one. He indulged in curious reveries as
he followed it, fancying it to he an unfriendly lndlnn with
whom a desperate collision must inevitably take place, or some
friendly member of the tribe, of whom the trapper had told
him, that would prove a boon companion to him. All at
once he reached a small, marshy tract, where the trail was
much more palpable; and it was here that he either saw or
fancied the toes of the footprints turned outward. thus demon-
strating that, instead of an Indian, he was following a white
man.

The Hibemian’s heart throbhed at the thought that he was
upon the track of the strange hunter, with all probability of
3Vertaking him. It caused his heart to throh violently to re-
flect how close he was upon the critical moment. Drawing
a deep breath and closing his lips tightly, he p'essed on ready
for the conflict. 1

The trail continued as distinct as ever, and the pursuit suf-

' I‘ercd no interruption until it entered adeep swamp into whicL

Teddy hesitated to enter, its appearance was so dark and 1': r-
hidding. As he gazed into its gloomy depth-4, he was almost
certain that he had discovered the home of the hunter. That
at that moment the criminal was within its confines, where
pcrhaps the beloved Cora was imprisoned, a miserable and
The thought maddened him, and be pressed
forward so rashly that he soon found himself completely as

  

  

  

'8 A mom or run us want

withdrawing into the open wood, it suddenly occurred to him.
that if the hunter had passed through the thicket, there wu
no earthly necessity of his doing it. He could pass around. '
’md, if the footprints were seen upon the opposite side, it only
remained to follow them, while, if they were not visible, it
s-ertilied that he was still within the thicket and he could shape
his actions accordingly.

Teddy therefore made his way with patience and can
around one end of the thicket. He found the distance more I
considerable than he at first supposed. It was full an hour
before he was fairly upon the opposite side. Here he made a
careful search and was soon rewarded by finding unmistakable
footprints, so that he considered it settled that the hunter 'had
passed straight through the thicket.

“It‘s a quaar being he is entirely, when it’s meself that
could barely git into the thicket, and he might have saved his
hide by making a short thramp around, rather than plunging
through in this shtyle.”

Teddy pressed on for two hours more, when he began to
believe that he was close upon the hunter, who must have i
traveled without intermission to have I eluded him thus far. '
He therefore maintained a strict watch, and advanced with
more caution.

The woods began to thicken, and the Hibernian was brought
to a standstill by the sound of a rustling in the bushes. Pro-
ceeding some distance further, he came upon the edge of a
bank or declivity, where he believed the strange hunter had
laid lawn to rest. The footprints were visible upon the edge
of the bank, and at the bottom of the latter was a mass of
heavy undergrowth, so dense as effectually to preclude all 0b-
Iervation ,of what might be concealed within it.

It was in the shrubbery, directly beneath him, that Tedd  . ,
believed the hunter lay. He must be wearied and exhaustet
and no doubt was in a deep sleep. Teddy was sum, in hit
enthusiasm, that he had obtained a glimpse of the hunter’s
clothes through theeinterstices of the leaves, so that he could \
determine precisely the spot where he lay, and even the posi— ‘ 3
tion of his body—so eagerly did the faithful fellow's m'shel ' .
keep in advance of his senses. ,A
" Md newness the all-important question as to m h!

 

 

 
    
  
    
  
 
 

    

 

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    

 
  

1m cucuus A TARTAB. 79

 

lim- Ihtmld do. He might shmt him dead as he dept. and there
V"! .8 little question but what Teddy would have done it had he
Ind. not been restrained by the simple question of expediency.
my The hunter was alone, and, if slain, all clue to the where-
3, 5‘ abouts of Mrs. Richter would be irreeoverably lost. What
“M L tidings that might ever be received regarding her, must mm"

l‘mm the lips of him who had abducted her. If he muld de
11" prester wound the man, he might frighten him into a (Smiles
0“ . lion, but then Teddy feared instead of wounding him merely
3‘" , with his rifle, he would kill him altogether if he attempted to
‘1 a shoot.
ble V After a full half-hour’s deliberation, Teddy decided upon
[ltd his course of action. It was to spring. knife in hand di-

rectly upon the face of the hunter, pin him to the ground and
int ' then force the confession from his lips, under a threat of his
his life, the Irishman mercifully resolving to slay him at any rate,
118 after he had obtained all that was possible from him.

, Teddy did not forget his experience of a few months be-
to fore when the hunter gave him an involuntary bath in the
V5 3 river. He therefore held his knife firmly in his right hand.
“'- ' Now that he had concluded what to do, he lost no time in
“1 carrying his plan into execution.

He took a crouching position, such as is assumed by the
m panther when about to spring upon its prey, and then drawing

‘0' L his breath, he leaped downward.
A yelping howl, an impetuous scratching and struggling of

 
   
   
   
   
   
     
    

Id the furious mass that he attempted to inclose in his arms, told
4'9 Teddy that instead 01 the hunter, he had pounced down upon
’f an innocent, sleeping tear!
b" It was well for the Irishman that the hear was peaceably
inclined, else his search for the lost trail might have termi-
‘  ‘Inted then and there. l‘he brute, after freeing itself from its
- ‘ incubus, sprung off and made all haste into the woods, leav-
I“ hlg Teddy gazing after it in stupefied amazement. He rose

   

30 his feet, stared at the spot where it had last appeared and
than drew a deep sigh, and sadly shook his head.
“ I say nothing! Be jabersl it's meself that can‘t do jug.

flee to the theme!”

    
     
 

.___.—

m we «and in his cablndoor,‘ about an 

 
 

    

    

60 ’m 1081' mam.

afier his great loss, gazing ofl‘ toward the pith which led to
the Indian village, and which he had traveled so many, many
times. Sad and weary was his countenance, as he stood, at
the close of the day. looking into the forest, as if he expected
that it would speak and reveal what it knew of his beloved
gunner, who was somewhere concealed within its gloomy
’siepths. Ah, how many an hour had he looked, but in vain
i‘hv forest refused to give back the lost, nor did it breathe or.
Word of her, to ease the gloom which hung so heavily upon
his soul.

A ilmifall caught his ear, and taming, he saw Teddy stand-
ing before him. The face of the Irishman was as dejected
as his own, and the widowed man knew there was scarce
need of the question:

“ Have you heard any thing. Teddy ?"

“ Nothing, sir, saving that nothing is to be learnt.”

“ Not my will, but thine, oh God, be done i" exclaimed
the missionary, reverently, and yet with a wailing sadness,
that proved how unutterable was his woe.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE TRAIL OF DEATH.

These] kclihoods confirm her flight from hence;
Thereft re, 1 pray you. stay not to discourse,
But mount you prescmly.——SHAKSPRABI.

TEE trapper, after separating from the Irishman, pursued
his way through the woods wit“ a slow tread, as if he were
deliberating some matter with himself. Occasionally he mutc
tel-ed and shook his head, in a manner that showed his cou-
science was getting the better of the debate, whatever it
might be. Finally he paused.

“ Yas, sir; it’s a mean piece of business in me. ’Cause I
want to catch a few beavers I must let this gal be, when she

' has been lost to her husband already for three months. It’s
“generous, and can’t be dam!” he exclaimed, emphatically.
"'What'ifl’ does lose a few p’elt'rles when they’rebringmg

 

any
, at
:ted
vcd
my

‘E I
.0”

Id-

ed
re

- the part he was acting.

m mnnn's masons. 01
melt at good price down in St. Louey? Can’t I mud to d.
It, when there’s a gal in the matter ?”

He resumed his walk as slowly and thoughtfully as before.
uttering to himself.

“ If I go, I goes alone; least I don’t go with that Tedc‘y,
for he'd be sat-tin to lose my ha’r as sure as we got onto a
trail. There’s no calc‘latin' the blunders of such a man. How
he has saved his own scalp to this time is more nor I can
tell, or himself neither, for that matter, I guess. I've been
on many a trail-hunt alone, and if I goes—if I goes, why, in
course I does l" he added, impetuously.

The resolution once taken seemed to afford him unusual
pleasure, as it does with us all when the voice of conscience
is a monitor that is heeded. He was tramping toward the
west, and now that the matter was decided in his own mind,
he paused again, as if he could better debate other matters
that must necessarily present themselves.

. “ In the first place, there’s no use of going any further on
this track, for I ain’t gettin’ any higher the gal, that's pr tty
sartin. From what that Teddy told me of his travels, it ox“
be that she’s anywhere in these parts, for if she war, is
couldn’t have helped l‘aming something of her in all this
time. There’s a tribe up north thai I’ve heard was great on
gettin' hold of white gals, and I think I’ll make a s‘arch in
that direction afore I does any thing else.”

Nothing more remained for Tim but to carry out the reso
lution he had made, and it was characteristic of the man that
he did it at once. Five minutes after the above words had
been muttered, he was walking rapidly along in a northern
direction, his rifle thrown over his arm, and a beaming ex-
pression of countenance that showed there were no regrets at
He had a habit of talking with him-
self, especially when some weighty or unusual matter obtruded
itself. It is scarcely to be wondered, therefore, that he be-
came quite talkative at the present time.

‘ I allers admire such mlvcntur’s us this, if they don’t
bring in any thing more nor thanks. The style in which I’ve
received them is allcrs worth more money nor I ever made

' trapping beavers The timeI eotched that little gal down -.
can the Osage, that Ind been lost all summer. Ithaughtha

I

 

 
 

    

fl m mrm

_ mother would eat me up afore she’d let us go. I believe I

grinned all day and all night for a week after that, it inst
me think I was such a nice feller, Maybe it’ll be the ssm'e
way with this. Hello ,”

The trapper paused abruptly, for on the ground before him
he saw the unmistakable imprint of a moccasin. Asingle
fiance of his experienced eye assured him upon that points
. “That there are Injins in these parts is a settled p’int with
use, and that red and white blood don’t agree is another p’int
that. is settled. That track wasn't made there more nor two
hours ago, and it’s pretty sartin the one that made it 'ain‘t fur
away at this time. It happens it leads to the north'ard, and
it’ll be a little divarsion to foller it, minding at the same tinie
that there’s an Injin in it."

For the present the trapper was on a trail, and he kept it
with the skill and certainty of a hound. Over the dry leaves,
the pebbly earth, the fresh grass, the swampy hollow—every-
where, he tbllowed it with unerring skill. ‘

“That Injin has been on a hunt,” he muttered, “and is

ing back home agin. If it keeps .in this direction much
longer, I‘ll believe he’s from the very village I’m hunting after.
Heighl there's something else up. l”

He suddenly checked thimself and began snufling the air,
as though it was tainted with something suspicious.

“ I hope I may be shot if there ain‘t a camp-tire within
twohundred yards of where I am standing.”

He looked sharply around in every direction, but saw no '
'thing of the camp, although positive that his olfactories could
not have deceived him.

“ Whether it belongs to white or red can't be said, eartin ;
but it’s a great deal most likely that it’s red, and it’s just
r about as sortin that that Injin ahead of me has gone pretty
close to the camp, so I’ll keep on follering him.”

A short distance further he became assured that he was it
close proximity to the fire, and he began to useIextreme can
fiO'n in his movements. He knew very “ell how slight an
'lnadvertence would betray his approach, and a betrayal was

 

 

almost fatal. Advancing some distance further, he suddenly I L

name in full view of the camp-fire. He saw three Indians
 wound 'it,.unoking, and appearing as if they had jun

  

 
 

 

 

 

m an) .m HARMIOAN. I

finished their morning meal. It seemed, also, as if they set!

discussing some matter that deeply interested all. The nuun‘
bling of their voices could be heard, and one of them gestio
ulated quite freely, as though he were excited over the confer-
ence. There was not even the most remote possibility that
What they were saying was of the least concern to the trap-
per; and so, after watching them a few moments, he moved
cautiously by.

It was rarely that Tim ever had a mishap at such perilous
times as these, but to his dismay something caught his foot .
so dcxtrously, that in spite of himself he was thrown flat
upon his face. There was a dull thump, not very loudI it is
true, but he feared it had reached the ears of the savages
He lay motionless, listening for a while. but hearing nothing
of their voices or footsteps, he judged that either they had no
suspicion of the true cause, or else had not heard him at all.
He therefore rose to his feet and moved on occasionally glanc-
ing back, to be sure he was not pursued.

The trapper proceeded in this nnmner until noon. Had
the case been urgent, he would not have paused until night-
fall, as his indurztted muscles demanded no rest -_ he could go
a couple of days without nourishment, and experience little
inconvenience. But there was no call for haste. Be there-
fore paused at noon, on the banks of a small stream, in quest
of some water-fowl.

Tim gazed up and down-stream, but saw nothing that
would serve as a dinner. He could have enticed in fish or
two from their element, but he had set his heart upon' partak-
ing of a bird, and was not willing to accept any thing else
Accordingly, he began walking down the bank of the creek
in search of one.

In such a country as was Minnesota forty years ago, th
difficult matter would have been to avoid game rather than to.
find it. The trapper had searched but a short distance, when
he caught sight of a single ptarmigan under the opptsite
bank. In atwinkling Tim's rille was raised,and,as it flashed
forth its deadly messenger, the bird made a single struggle,
And then floated, a dead object, down the current.

Although rather anxious for his prize, the trapper, like
«we hnnw  day, wu‘not willing to receive a"

 

  

  

84 m Los'r TRAIL.

The creek could
be only of inconsiderable depth, yet, on such 4 blustering day
he felt a distaste toward exposing himself to its chilling clasp
Some distance below he noticed the creek narrowed and

skin so long as it was possible to avoid it.

made a curve. At this point he hoped to draw it in shore
with a stick, and he lost no time in hurrying to the point.
Arrive.) there, the trapper stood on the very margin of the
water, with a long stick in hand, waiting for the 01 portunc
moment. He naturally kept his eye upon the floating bird.
as any animal watches the prey that he is confident is coming
directly into his clutches.

From the opposite bank projected a large, overhanging
bush, and such was the bird’s position in the water, that it
was compelled to float within a foot, at least, of this. Tim’s
eyes happened to be fixed intently upon it at this moment,
and, at the very instant it was at the point named, he saw a
person‘s hand flash out, seize the ptarmigan by the neck, and
bring it in to shore in a twinkling.

Indignation upon the part of the trapper was perhaps as
great as his surprise. He raised his rifle, and had it already
sighted at the point where he was confident the body of the
thief must be concealed, when a second thought caused him
to lower his piece, and hurry lip-stream, to a. spot directly op-
posite where the bird had disappeared.

Here be searched the shore narrowly, but could detect no
sign of the presence of any person. That there was, or had
at least been, one there, needed no further confirmation. The
trapper was in no mood to put up with the loss of his dinner,
and he considered it rather a point of honor that he should
bring the offending savage to justice. That it was an Indian

,he did not doubt, but he never once suspected, what was
true, that it was the identical one he had been following, and
' who had passed his camp—fire.

In a few moments he found a shallow portion of the creek,
across which he immediately waded and made his way down
I the bank, to where the Indian had first manifested his pres
ence. Here the keen eye of Tim at once detected moccasin
prints, and he saw that the savage had departed with his

{prize

 

 
 

'M was no dimculty in following the ms. and a.

 

.—
A

3

..._.u-~_.Db

    
   

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
    
 
 

man or run runs. 35

trapper did so, with his long, loping, rapid walk. It happened
to lead straight to the northward, so that he felt it was no
loss of time for him to do so.

It was morally certain the savage could be at no great dis-
tance; hence the pursuer was cautious in his advance. The
American Indian would rather seek than avoid an encounter,
and he was no the to be despised in a. hand-to-hand contest
The trapper was in that mood that he would not have hesi
taxed to encounter two of them in deadly combat for the pos ‘
session of the bird which was properly his own, and which ‘
he was not willing to yield until compelled to do so by phys-
ical force. ‘

About a. hundred rods brought the trapper to a second
creek of larger size than the first. The trail led directly into
this, so he followed without hesitation. Before doing so, he
took the precaution to sling his rifle to his back, so that his
arms should be disencumbered in any sudden emergency.

The creek proved to be of considerable depth, but not suf-
ficient to cause him to swim. Near the center, when it was

' up to his arm-pits, and he was feeling every foot of the way

as he advanced, he chanced by accident to raise his head.
As he did so, he caught a movement among the undergrowth,
and more from habit than any thing else, dodged his head.

The involuntary movement allowed the bullet that was
discharged at that moment to pass harmlessiy over his crown
and bury itself in the bank beyond. The next instant the
trapper dashed through the water, reaching the shore before
the savage could reload. To his disappointment and chagrin.
the Indian was gone.

Tim, however, was not to be baffled in this manner. and
dashai on as impetuously as before. He was so close that
he could hear the fugitive as he fled, but the nature 01' th
ground prevented rapid progress upon the part of either. and
it was impossible to tell for a time who it was that “"15 gain
In .
g1 There's got to be an end to this race some time,” muttered /
Tim. “0;- I’ll chase you up the north pole. You’ve stole my '
dinner, and tried to steal my top-knot. and now you shall

hue It or I shall have yours." ,
For some time this race (which in many respects renamed

 

  

    

as m LOST mun.

that of Teddy and the strange hunter) continued, until the
trapper found it was himself that was really losing ground,
and he sullenly came down to a walk again. Still, he held
to the trail with the unremitting perseverance of the blood-
hound, confident that, sooner or later, he must come up with
he fugitive.

All at once, something upon the ground caught his eye

I. was the ptarmigan, and he sprung exultingly forward and
picked it up. It was unharmed by the Indian, and he looked
awn Has a tacit surrender, on the part of his adversary, of
the matter of dispute between them.

At first Tim was disposed to keep up the pursuit; but, on
second thought, he concluded to partake of his dinner, and
then continue his search for his human game. In order to
enjoy his dinner it was necessary to have it cooked, and he
busied himself for a few moments in collecting a few dried
sticks, and plucking the feathers from the fowl and dressing it‘.

While thus occupied, he did not forget to keep his eyes
about him, and to be prepared for the Indian in case he chose
to Come back. He discovered nothing suspicious, however,
and came to believe there was no danger at all.

At length, when the afternoon was well advanced, the
trapper’s dinner was prepared. He took the fowl from the
blaze, and cutting a piece with his hunting-knife, was in the
very act of placing it in his mouth, when the sharp crack of
a rifle broke the stillness, and he fell backward, pierced
through the body by the bullet of the Indian whom he had
been pursuing.

“ It’s all up I” muttered the dying man. “ I am wiped out
at last, and must go under l”

The Lost Trail had been the means of Tim, the trapr
“Hovering what prove] to him the trail qf death!

 

 

    

; :d

 

arm.

mnutsum I

CHAPTER IX.

THE DEAD SHOT.

And now ‘tis still i no sound to wake
The primal furi‘st'! awful shade -
And breathless lies the covert bra e.
Where many an ambushed form is laid
1 see the red-man‘s gleaming eye,
Yet all so hushed. the gloom profound
That summer birds flit heedlessly.
Aud mocking nature smiles around—Lust.

In: years have passed. It is the summer of 1825. In tint
comparatively brief period, what vast changes have taken
place How many have come upon and departed from the
stage of life! How many plans, intentions and resolutions
have been formed and either failed or succeeded! How sunny
governments have toppled to the earth, and followed by “ those
that in their turn shall follow them.” What a harvest it has
been for Death!

The missionary’s cabin stands on the Clearing where it was
first erected, and there is little change in its outward appear-
and, save that perhaps it has been more completely isolated
from the wood. The humble but rather massive structure is
almost impervious to the touch of time. It is silent and de.
sorted within. Around the door plays a little boy, the image
of his mother, while some distance away, under the shadow
of the huge tree, sits the missonary himself. One leg is
thrown over the other, an open book turned with its face
downward upon his lap, while his hands are folded upon it,
and he is looking 03' toward the wood in deep abstraction of

bought. Time has not been so gentle with Harvey Richter.
‘ I‘hcre are lines upon his face, and a. sad, wearied expression
that does not properly belong there. It would have required
full fifteen years, .in the ordinary course of events, to have
bowed him in this manner.

The young man—for he is still such—and his {ittle 'noy an
the only ones who now dwell within the cabin. No tidings
or tenors have reached him of the fate of his wife, who was
. anally taken from him four yen: before. The W

 

88 ms. 'Los'r rnsrn

Teddy is still searching for her. The last two winters he has
spent at home, but,each summer he has occupied in wander-
ing hither and thither through the great wilderness, in his
vain searching for the lost trail. Cast down and dejected, he
has neve: yet entirely abandoned hope of finding traces of
her. He had foilowed out the suggestion of the trapper, and
visited the Indians that dwelt further north, where he was in.
formed that nothing whatever was known of the missing wt-
man. Since that time his search had been mostly of an sim-
luss character, which, as we have already stated, could be pro-
ductive of no definite results.

The missionary had become, in a degree, resigned to his
fate; and yet, properly speaking, he could not be said to be
resigned, for he was not yet convinced that she was entirely
10st to him. All traces of the strange hunter seemed irreeov-
erably gone, but Richter still devoutly believed the providence
of God would adjust every thing in due time. It is true, at
seasons, he was filled with doubt and misgiving: but his pro-
fession, his devotedness to his work, brought him in such close
communion with his divine Master that he trusted fully in his
providences.

On this summer afternoon, thoughts of his wife and of the
the trange hunter occupied his mind more exclusively than
they had for a year past. So constant and preoccupying, in-
deed, were they, that he once or twice believed he was on the
eve of learning something regarding her. While engaged in
reading, the figures of his wife and the hunter would obtrude
themselves; he found it impossible to dismiss them, so he had
laid down the book and gone off into this absorbing reverie.

An additional fear or presentiment at times haunted the
mind of the missionary. He ,believed this hunter who could
'esort to such diabolical means to revenge himself, would seek
to inflict further injury upon him, and he instinctively looked
upon his‘ boy as the vulnerable point where the blow would
be likely to fall. For over a year, whilciTeddy was absent,
Richter had taken the boy with him, when making his daily
visits to the village, and made it a point never to lose sight o!
him. During these years of loneliness, also, Harvey Richter
had hunted a great deal in the woods and had attained go-

in'rksbleflskill in the use of the rifle—an accomplishmm fi'

    

 

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

    

  

m can an: m aux. O

which he had reason to be thankful for the remainder of his
' , life, as we shall presently see. On a pleasant aflemoon, he
frequently employed himself in shooting at a target, or at
Imall game in the lofty trees around him, until his aim became
IO uzerring that not a warrior among the Sioux could excel
him. It may seem singular, but our readers will understand
as when we say that this added to his popularity-—aml, in I
manner, paved a way for reaching many a heart that hitherto
had remained unmoved by his appeals.

The year preceding, an Indian had presented the missionary

{5 with a goat, to the neck of which was attached a large cow-
 bell, that probably had been obtained of some trader. Where
the animal came from, however, he had never been able to
, v tell. It was a very acceptable present, as it became a com-
 panion for his Charley, who spent many and many an hour in
sporting with it. It also afforded for a while a much-valued
luxury in the shape of milk, so that the missionary came to
regard the animal as an indispensable requirement in his house-
hold.

The goat acquired a troublesome habit of wandering off in
the woods, with an inclination not to return for several days.
From this cause the bell became useful as a signal to indicate
the animal‘s whereabouts. It rarely wandered beyond near-
ing, and caused no more trouble than would have resulted
| from a cow under the same circumstances. For the last few
3‘ weeks it had been the duty, or rather privilege, of Charley to
if _ bring his playmate home, and the child had become so expert
that the father had little hesitation in permitting him to go out
for it. The parent had misgivings, however, in allowing him
to leave the house, so near dark, to go beyond his sight if not
‘ Jhcyond his hearing; and for some time he had strenuously re-
hsed to nermit the boy to go upon his errand; but the Iittltv
~ fellow plead so earnestly, and the father‘s ever-present appre-
§g . hensious having gradually dulled by their want of realization
; - he had'g'iven his reluctant consent, until it. came to be consid
‘ cred the special province of the boy to bring in the goat every
‘ _ evening last before nightfall.
: The attemoon were away, and still the missionary sat with
  hands, gazing absently oli‘ in the direction of the wood.
V' hoboyatlength aroused himbynmningupand asking:

  

 

   
  
 
 
 
 
   
    
   
    
    
  
 
  
  
 

 

 

 
 

    
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
       
      
    
   

   
  

go ,mnonmn.

“Father. is it getting late. Isn’t a time to bring nos; 

fink

home i” .30“,

3‘ Yes, my son. , do you he if the bell i” I}

‘ Listen 1" ' pm
l‘he pleasant tam ,t-lz'nk came with faint dist'mctness am of

the still summer air. 31111

“' It isn’t far away, 11y son; so run as fast as you can and . chi

ain't play or loitcr on me way.” ' 3%

The child ran rapidly across the Clearing in the direction r m
of the sound, shot into the wood, and, a moment later, had ' ryi‘
disappeared from sight. . this

The father still sat in his seat, and was looking absently to~ , ‘
ward the forest, when a startled expression flashed over his ' we
face and he sprung to his feet. What thus alarmed him? ' 11 on-
was the sound of the goat-bell. wt

All of my readers whohave heard the sound of an ordi-
nary cow-bell suspended to the neck of an animal, have ob- tot
served that the natural sound is an irregular om——that is, 'po
there is no system or regularity about the sound made by an on
animal in cropping the grass or herbage. There is the clap-
per‘s tink-a-link, tink-a-link—an interval of silence—then the 3m

 

 

occasional tink, tmk, tink, to be followed, perhaps, by a repeti- ' if
tion of the first-named sounds, varied occasionally by a com- A
pound of all, caused by the animal flinging its head to free it- ' re
self from troublesome flies or mosquitoes. The bell in ques- ‘fl.
tion. however, gave no such sounds as these, and it was this fact m
which filled the missionary with a sudden, terrible dread. ‘ a

Suppose a person take one of; these bells in his hand, and p1
give a steady, uninwn-upted motion. The consequence must be ' ‘u
a regular, unvarying, monotonous sound, which any ear can j u‘

distinguish from the natural one caused by the animal itsel£
It was a steady tink, tink, tink, that the bell in question sent
forth. -

'l‘he missionary stood but a moment; then, dashing into
the house, he took down his ever-loaded rifle and ran in the
direction of the sound. In his hurry, he forgot powder-horn
Ind bullet, and had, as a consequence, but a single charge in
his rifle. He had gone scarcely a hundred yards, when he
encountered the goat retLu-ning home. One glance showed
lute w- oo lull to its neck, while that omi‘nonsfifiik.

     

61

um mums Imus“.

   
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   

a} ‘ gut, tink, came through the woods as uninterruptcdl'y as be
 re.

7 The father now broke into a swifter run, almost losing his
45 presence of mind from his great, agonizing fear. The picture
of the Indian, whom he had felled to the floor, when he in
sulted his wife years before, rose before him, and he saw m,
“d ’ child already struggling in the savage‘s merciless 'Irasr

' Nearer and nearer he approached the sound, until he student}
3" ’ mused, conscious that it was but a short distance away. Hzr ;
M1 3 rying stealthily but'rapidly several rods to the right, the whale
3 thing was almost immediately made plain to him. ’
' Two trees, from some cause or other, had fallen to the
’3 ground in a parallel direction and within a yard of each
n other. Between the trunks of these an Indian was crouched,
_ who held the goat~bell in his left hand, and caused the sound
" “V which so startled the father. The savage had his back turned
toward the missionary, and appeared to be looking in the op-
posite direction, as if he were waitingr the appearance of some
one.

While the firther stood gazing at this. he saw his boy come
Ito view about fifty feet the other side of the Indian, and, as
if wearied with his unusual hunt, seat himself upon a log.
As soon as the boy was visible, the savage—whom Richter
'recognized at once as the same man that he had felled to the
'floor of his cabin, four years before-«called into use a little
_'common sense, which, if it had been practiced somewhat
' Sooner, must have completely deluded the titther, and accom-
P lilished the design meditated. If, instead of giving the bell
the monotonous tink, the Indian had shaken the clapper irreg-
. nlarly, it would have resulted in the certain capture of the
L Child, beyond the father’s power of aid or rescue.

1‘ ‘ The missionary, we say, penetrated the design of the In.

[lien almost instantly. Although he saw nothing but the he \d

find top-of one shoulder, he recognized, with a quick instinct.

i'lhc villain who had felt the weight of his hand years befu'o,

. " And who had now come, in the fullness of time, to claim his
‘Ql'evenge. Directly in frontof the savage rose a small‘bush,
"Which, while it gave him a view of the 'boy, concealed him-

‘; born the child’s‘obsemtion. ,
 memo-m Indian seemed tobotolurethehoywith

' O
.

uu.H.t-Y

 

 
 

 

    
      

D2 mms'rmam

his reach, so as to secure him without his making an outcry
or noise. If he could draw him close to the logs, he would
spring upon him in an instant, and prevent any scream, which
assuredly must reach the father, who, with nis unerring rifle,
would have been upon the ground in a few moments. It
was an easy matter for the savage to slay the boy. It would
not have done to shoot his rifle, but he could have toma-
hawkell him in an instant ; hence it was plain that he desired-
ouly to take him prisoner. He might have sprung upon his
prey in the woods, but there he ran the risk of being seen by
the child soon enough for him to make an outcry, which
would not fail of bringing immediate assistance. His plan,
therefore, was, to beguile the little fellow on until he had
walked directly into the snare, as a fly is lured into the web
of a spider.

This, we say, was the plan of the Indian. It had never
entered into his calculations that the goat, after being robbed
of he‘r bell, might go home and tell a tale, or that there were
other ways in which the boy could be secured, without in-
curring half the peril he already had incurred.

The moment the father comprehended what we have en-
deavored to make plain, he raised his rifle, with the resolve
to shoot the savage through the head. As he did so, he re-
called the fact that he had but a single charge, and that, as a
consequence, a miss would be the death-warrant of himself
as well as of his child. But he knew his eye and band
would never fail him. His finger already pressed the trigger,
when he was restrained by an unforeseen impediment.

While the deadly lifle was poised, the boy stretched him-
self up at full length. a movement which made known to the
father that his child was exactly in range with the Indian
himself, and that a bullet passing through the head of the
savage could not fail to bury itself in the little fellow’s body.
This startling circumstance arrested the pressure of the trig.
ger at the very moment the ball was to be sped upon its
errand of death. -

The missionary sunk down upon one knee, with the inten-
tion of bringing the head of the savage so high as to carry
V the bullet over the body of his boy, but this, he found could
 done without too seriously endangering  aim? Es

 

A onsrnm-ra autumn 98

(luv a head from one side of the tree, and then from the
other, but from both stand-perms the same dreadful danger
threatened. The ground behind the tree was somewhat ele
vated, and was the only spot from which he could stcure a
Stir View of the bronze head of the relentless enemy.

Two resorts Were at the command of Richter. He mud
save the tree altogether, and pass around so as to come upnr
he savage from a (lirferent direction ; but this involved c't-lny
turing which his boy might fall into the Indian’s powu and
be dispatched, as he would be sure to do when he found that
‘ne father was close at hand; and from the proximity of the
two men, it could hardly fail to precipitate a collision between
them. The Indian, finding himself at bay, could not fail to
prove a most troublesome and dangerous customer, ur armed,
as Richter was, with weapons for a close encounter.

The father might also wait until the boy should pass out
of mnge. Still, there was the possibility of his proceeding
directly up to the spot where the savage lurked, thus keeping
in range all the while. Then the attempted rescue would
have to be deferred until the child was in the hands of the
savage. These considerations, passing through Richter‘s brain
much more rapidly than we have narrated them. decided him
to abandon both plans, and to resort to what, beyond question,
'was a most desperate expedient.

The Indian held the bell in his left hand. It was suspended
by the string which had clasped the neck of the goat, and,
as it swayed gently back and forth, this string slowly twisted
and untwisted itself, the bell, of course, turning back and
forth, The father determined to slay the Indian and save his
son by shooting this bell!

It is not necessary to describe the shape and make of the
common cow-bell in general use throughout our country; but
it is necessary that the reader should hear them in mind in
order to understand the manner in which the missionary [no-
pcsed to accomplish this result. His plan was to strike the
he‘ll when in the proper position, and glance the bullet into the
had q 27w mayo I ‘

The desperate nature of this expedient will be aecnat once;
Should the gun-be discharged when the flat side of the.de

in turned toward him, the ball would pass through, and

\,

 

  

 

u m LOST TRAIL.

most probably kill his child without e'ndangerizg the lib A!
the Indian. If it struck the narrow side, it- accomplished
neither harm nor good; while, if fired at the precise moment.
and still aimed but an inch too low, the hell would most
likely be perforated. . Consequently, it was requisite that the
title be discharged at the precise instant of time when the
signal brass was in the correct position, and that the aim
hould be infalliny true.

All this Richter realized only too painfully; but. uttering
In inward prayer, he raised his rifle with a nerve that knew
no faltering or fear, holding it pointed until the critical mo« .
men! should arrive. That moment would be when the string
was wound up, and was turning, to unwind. Then, as it was
almost stationary, he fired

No sound or outcry betrayed the result; but, clubbing his
rifle, the father bounded forward, over the trees, to the spot
where the Indian was crouching. There he saw him in his
death-struggle upon the ground, the bell still held fast in his
hand. In that critical moment, Harvey Richter could not
forbear glancing at it. Its top was indented, and sprinkled
with white by the glancing passage of the lead. The blood,
oozing down the face of the savage, showed how unerringly
true had been the aim.

Something in the upward look of the dying man startled
the missionary.

“ Harvey Richter—don‘t you know me, he gasped?”

“ I know you as a man who has sought to do me a wrong
that only a fiend could have perpetrated. Great Heaven!
Can it be? Is this you, Brazey Davis ‘3” V

“ Yes; but you've finished me, so there isn’t much left.”

“ Are you the man, Brazey, who has haunted me ever since
we came in this country? Are you the person who carried
away poor, dear Cora?” ~

“ Yes—yes l” answered the man, with fainting weariness.

Such, indeed, was the ease. The strange hunter and the
Indian known as Mahogany were one and the same person.

“Bmey, why have you haunted me thus, and dcxn me
this t wrong i"

“ can not tell. When‘Ithougiit how you took her in

" h, Meade me crazy when I thought about it” I mail. '

 

    

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

 

m HUNTER'S DYING CONFESSION.

hie her thorn you, but I wouldn’t have dared to do that i’
you hadn’t struck me. I wanted revenge then."

“ What have you done with her ‘?” _

“She is gone. I haven’t seen her since the day after i
seized her, when a band L. Indians took her from me, and
went up north with her. They have got. her yet, I know, for
‘ have kept watch over her, and she is safe, but is a clot!
\risonei.” This he said with great ditllculty.

“ Brazey. you are dying. Iforgive you. But does ytm
neurt tell you you are at peace with Him whom you have
offended so grievously ‘3"

“It‘s too late to talk of that now. It might have done
years ago, when 1 was an honest nnm like yourself, and before
I became a vagabond, bent on injuring one who had never
really injured me."

“cit is never too late for God to forgive—"

“ Too late—too late, I tell you i There I” He rose upon
his elbow, his eyes buming with insane light and his hand
extended. “ I see her—she is coming, her white robes flout-
mg on the air. Oh God, forgive me that I did her the great
wrong 1 But, she smiles upon inc—she forgives me i I thank
.hee, angel of good—"

He sunk slowly backward, and Harvey Richter eased the
' head softly down upon the turf. Brnzey Davis was no more.

 

CHAPTER X. \

CONCLUSION.

Hesrt leaps to heart—the sacred flood .
That warms us is the some;

That good old mun—Ills honest blood
Alike we frankly claim—Srnuouu.

TEE missionary gazed sadly upon the imtninute form before
him. He saw the playmate of his childhood stricken: down
in death by his own hand, which never should have taken
human life, and although the act was justifiable under the
circumstances, the good man could but mourn the painml no~
unity that occasioned it. The story, although possessing
I, “sic interest, was a brief one. Brazey Davis, as ho had

    
 

  

I. - mm Los'r mu.

always been :enned, was a few years older than himself and I
native of the same neighborhood. He was known in child-
hood as one possessing a vindictive spirit that could never
forgive an injury—as a person who would not hesitate at any
means to obtain revenge. It so happened that he became
desperately enamored of the beautiful Cora Brandon, but be-
coming aware, at length, that she was the betrothed of liar-
Vey Bruisted, the young missionary in embryo, the disappoint-
ed lover left the country, and was never heard of by the mis-
sionary until he made himself known in the singular manner
that we have related at the opening of our narrative. He
had, in fact, come to be a sort of monomaniac, who delighted
in annoying his former rival, and in haunting his footsteps as
if he were his evil shadow. The abduction of his wife had
not been definitely determined upon until that visit to the
cabin, in the garb and paint of an Indian, when he received
the tremendous blow that almost drove the life from his body.
Davis then resolved to take the revenge which would “ cut”
the deepest. How well he succeeded, the reader has learned.

The missionary’s child stood pleading for an explanation
Lf the strange scene before him. Loosening the bell from
the grasp of the dead man, the minister took the little hand,
and, with a heart overflowing with emotion, set out for his
cabin. It was his wish to give the hunter a Christian burial;
but, for the present, it was impossible. These dying words
rung in his ears: “The Indians took her man me, and went
up north with her, where she now is. and safe I" Btu-used
thought! She was then living, and was yet to be r:- oer
,to his arms. The shadow of death passed away, and a great
light illutninated his very being. The lost was found!

When the missionary came to be more collected, he con-
cluded that this must be the tribe of which/Teddy had once
spoken, but which had been visited by him without success.
The prize was too great to be intrustcd in the hands of another,
Ind Harvey determined to make the search in person, to settle,
if possible, once and forever, the fate of his beloved wife.

He soon proceeded to he Indian village, where he left his
boy and gave notice that he should not be back for several days.
He then called on of the most trusty and skillful warriors

‘ side, and asked for his company upon the eventful journey.

 

m LOST one FOUND. 93

The savage cheerfully complied, and the two set out at once
It was a. good distance to the northward, and when
night came down upon them, many miles yet remained to he
passed. There was little fear of disturbance from enemies,
and both lay down and slept until daylight, when they were
immediately on their way again.

This journey through the northern wilderness was umnrie.‘
by any event worthy of record, and the details would be in.-
interesting to the reader. Sullice it to soy that,just as the
fourth day was closing in, they struck a small stremn, which
pursued a. short distance, brought them directly upon the vil-
lage for which they had been searching.

The advent of the Indian and missionary among them cre-
ated considerable stir, but they were treated with respect and
consideration. Harvey Richter asked immediately for the
chief or leading man, and shortly stood in his presence. He
found him a short, thick-set half-breed, whose age must have
been well-nigh three-score yenrs, and who, to his astonishment,
was unable to speak English, although many of his subjects
spoke it quite intelligibly. He understood Sioux, however,
and the missionary’s companion acted as interpreter.

Our friend made a full statement of his wife’s abduction,
years before, and of the assertion of the dying man that she
had been taken from him by members of this tribe, who had
retained her ever since. The chief waited some time before
replying; he seemed debating with himself as to the proper
course to pursue. Finally ‘ie said he must consult with one
of his warriors, and departed abruptly from the lodge.

Ten minutes later, while the missionary, with a painfully-
tbrobbing heart, was gazing around the lodge, with that mi-
nute scrutiny of the most trifling objects peculiar to us at
such times, he caught the sound of returning footsteps, and
turned to the lodge dom. There stood the Indian, and, directly
beside him, his own lost Core!

The next day at noon, :1 camp-tire might have been seen
some miles south of the northern village of which we .‘JWQ
made mention. An Indian was engaged in cmkmg 3 Dim!
of meat, while the missionary and his reclaimed jewel, sit-
ting, side by side, her head reclining upon his shoulder and
lb hem! denying with her hair, were holding delightfu.

 

N I Tanzmvr run.

communion. She looked. pale and somewhat emaciated, ht
these years of absence had indeed been fraught with suffering: ,
but the old sweet look had never departed. It was now
changed into an expression of perfect joy.

The wife’s great anxiety was to reach home and see the
child she had left an infant, but who was now a frolitksoms
boy, and she could hardly consent to pause even when night
,vertook them, and her lagging limbs told her husband-how
xhausted she had become. Cora never had suspected tho
.dentity of the Indian and the hunter, until on that sad day
when he sprung from behind the cabin and hurried her off
into the wood. There was something, however, in his look
when he first felt the weight of her husband’s blow, that
never left her remembrance. While hurrying her swiftly
through the wood he said nothing at all, and at night, while
she pretended to sleep, he watched'by the camp-fire. It was
the light of this fire which had puzzled Teddy so much. On
the succeeding day the abductor reached the river and em-
barked in his canoe. A half-hour later he leaned over the
canoe and washed the paint from his face and made himself -
known in his true character, as Brazey Davis; her former
lover. He had scarcely done so, when an Indian canoe
rounded a bend in the river, and, despite his earnest prov
testations, the savages took the captive from him, and carried
her with them to their village, where she had been ever since.
Retained very closely, as all prisoners among Indians are, she
had heard nothing of Teddy’s visit. She was treated with
kindness, as the destined wife of a young chief ; but the suit
for her consent never was pressed by the chief, as it is in an
Indian’s code of honor never to force a woman to a distasteful
marriage. The young brave, with true Indian pertinacity
could wait his time, confident that his kindness and her long
absence from home would secure her consent to the savage
alliance. She was denied nothing but her liberty, and he:
prayers to be returned to her husband and child.

At this point in her narration, an exclamation from the In~
nian arrested attention. All listened and heard but a short
distance away: \

“ Begomh, Teddy, it’s yersel-f that’s entitled to a mi)“ 
atria. as yous have been on a mighty long tramp, and W;

 

non AGAIN N

Many thing but a country that is big enough to hide
the Atlantic ocean in, wid Ireland on its bosom as a jewel
The chances are small of yees iver gitting another glimpse of
heaven-+that is, of Miss Cora’s face. The darl‘nt; if she’s
gone to heaven, then Teddy McFadden don’t care how soon
somebody else wears out his brooches—that is, on the pi esump-
tion that St. Peter wil‘. say, ‘Teddy, me lad, ye can inter an’
make ycrsclf at home, to be sure 2’ ” .

The husband and wife glanced at each other significantly at
the fellow rattled on.

“ Wait a moment,” said Harvey, rising to his feet, and
carefully making his way in the direction of the sound.

It was curious that the Irishman should have paused for his
noonday rest in such close proximity to our friends ; but, he
had learned from a trader who had recently visited the Red
River country, that there was a white woman, beyond all
question, among the tribe in the north, and he was on his
way to make them a second visit.

The missionary found his servant seated by a tree Teddy
looked up as he heard a footstep. It seemed as if his
eyes would drop from their sockets. His mouth opened wide,
and he seemed, for the moment, confounded. 'Fhen he recov-
ered his presence of mind in a measure, and proceeded to
scratch his head vigorously. That, with him, ever was a sign
of the clearing up of his ideas.

. “ How do you do, Teddy ?" at length the missionary said,
after having enjoyed the poor fellow’s confusion.

“ Faith,but ye sent the cold shivers over me. I: it yerself,
Mister Harvey, out in these woods, or is it yer ghost on the
s’arch for Mlsthress Cora? I smnctim lS thinks me own ghmt
is out on the s'arch widout me body, an' I shouldn’t be surprised
to meat it someday. But I‘m mighty glad it‘s yorsclf an‘
not yer ghost, for, to till the thruth,I don’t jist like ghosts—
they makes a body feel so qunm in the stomach.”

“ Come with me; I have an lndian as company, and you
may as well join us."

The Hibernian followed, a few paces behind, continually
expressing his astonishment at seeing his master so far away
from home. He did not look up until they were within a to!
pace. of the camp-fire, when Richter stopped from befmhin.

 

I. m Los'r mun

“Save us! save usl but if there isn’t the ghOWst of Mt-
Cora come to haunt me for not finding her store i” exclaimed
Teddy, retreating a step or two in genuine terror. “ Saint
Patherick, Saint Pether, Saint Virgin Mary, protict me! I
didn’t mane to get dhrunk that day, ye know, nor to make a
[rind of--”

“ I am no ghost but my own self. Teddy, restored to as;
husband in safety. Can you not welcome ms t"

“ Oorahl Oorah l“ and he danced a moment in uncontrtil
able joy. Then he exclaimed: “God bliss yer own swan
self 1” taking her in his brawny arms. “ God bliss you! No
ghost, but yer own swate self. 011,1 feel like a blast of pow.
der ready to go of? !” And again he danced a singular com-
mixture of the jig and cotillion. much to the Indian's amaze-
ment, for he thought him crazy. “ I knew that I should look
upon your face again ; but, till me where it is yees have come
from ‘3" he finally subsided enough to ash.

Teddy was soon made to understand all that related to the
' return of the young wife. When he learned that Mahogany,
with whom he had so often drank and “ hobnobbed,” was only
the hunter disguised, who was thus plotting his crime, the
Iiishman’s astonishment can hardly be described. He was
irritated, also, at his own stupidity. “ That Teddy McFadden
iver should have been so desaved by that rascal of purgatory l“
he exclaimed; but, as the evil man had gone to the great tri-
bunal above, there was no disposition, even in Teddy's heart,
to heap curses on his memory.

A few days more, and the three whites passed through the
Indian village on their way to the Clearing. The joy of the
savages at the return of their sweet, pale-faced sister was
manifested in many ways, and she once feared they would
never allow her to leave them and go to her own humble
home. Finally, however, they reached the Clearing, and, as
they walked side by side across it, opened the door and sat
down within the cabin, and the fond mother took the darling
boy in her lap, the wife and husband looked in each otha’s
hoes with streaming eyes, and murmured, “Thank God!
think God l” v

 

 

  

 

STAN

DIME

DIALOGUE

         

   

,7 '-

DARD

S

For School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments.

x“. l to ’1 lneluelve. l5 to '35 Pnpnlar Dinlmn anrl Dremal in eeth book. Each volume I”
“no pagan, eeut poet-pmd, on rea—ipt of price, tun cenu.

Beadle & Adams. Publishers. 98 William St" N. Y.

 

'l'heee volnrnee have hen repnred with eeperlal referent-e to their eveilehillty Inr Exhlhltlowe.
in ndegrdyto Irhnule nnpl‘nfirlofl thh or without the furniture of A I‘llflaflulll lulled tn SOHO:

AN OUNG PEO

of every use! both mele qul i'enutla. It is 1an to eunrne tlmll

her boolu in the market, at nny price, contain no meny ueel'ul nud eveileble dieloguu uddrun.

be
A
i.
lel, pethoe, humor eud untimeut.

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 1.

   

Meeting of the Mule-
Belting e Live Eng men. For three ht-
TM'. Cornnllion. For mule end female.
Faehion. For two lndiu.

The Reheereel. Fur eix be e.

Which will you Channel or twolmye.

The Queen of Me". For but little 'iI'lI.

The Ten-Pnel)\ For imir indie»

Three Scene- in “'eddui Life. Meleand iemnle.
Mre. Snlfllee‘ Cnnieuion. For mele and female.
Tlte Minion oi the Spill“. Five young lmli-e.

For nine young lndioe.

     

liobnobhlng. For live I eelrere.

The Secret of Succeee. 'or three I eekerl.

Your: Americn. Three melee two {em-lee.
Jane inu'e Dutiny. Four iern ee, aneinnle.
The oily of the Duel. For three maleepeeken.
Dogmntilm. For three mele Ipeehere.

The] ornnt Coaloun ed. For two hoye.
The net Ynnn Men. For two mnlee
The Yenr'e Rut: oninz. I? female mi 1 mg‘
The Village with One Gentleman. For eigh; 1.
i malee end one mele.

 

 

 

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 2.

'l'he Celine »! Llherlv. 9 males and l female.

Cinderaile or, The um. Glue Slipper.

Doing Go and Saying Bod. Severn] cheraetere.

The Golden Rule. Two melee and two femulnl.

The Gift 0! the Fairy Queen. Sever-l femalee.

‘l‘ekun in and D In. For. For two hum-tore.

The Country Auut'e Villtw the Cl y. For uv.
erel chant-ten.

The Two Romane. Fol two melee.

Tryin the Chery-ten. For \l’ll’cl melee.

The i-fit py Family. For levernl ‘ani nele.’

The bow. l-‘o- eererel ehernctere.

How to ‘l'rite ‘ Po nlav’ Starlet. Two melee.
The New uni the (ill. Fur two mnlel. "
A Sen-Minn nt Lani. For two mllnlt
The Greenhorn. For two melee.
The Three Men of Science. For font mule.
The Old Lnd ’ Will. For {our melee.
The Little lh'l en here. For two little girl-I.
How to Find an eir. For five melee.
The Virtnee. For le young ladle.-
AhCqunuhinl Eclozue.

e ubllc meeting. Fiverneleeendonefemllhv
The Engl'uh Treveler. For two melee.

 

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 3.

file Mev Queen. For en entire uhool.

Dre-e Ref-rm Convention. For ton femalee.
Keeping Bed Compeny. A Fercn. For five main.
Jonrtin Under Dillieul ee. 9 melee, I fem-l0.
.Netlon Reprmntetiv . A Burleeque. I melee.
.Iieeepln‘ the Dre“- For numermn melee.

 

 

The Genteel Cook. For two melee. ~
Masterpiece. For two mnlee end tw> {em-ill. \
The Two Romene. For two melee.

The Same. Second eeeae. For two Melee. .
Showing the “'hite Feather. e null-e. I (mele-
The Bettie Cell. A Recltetlve. For one

1mm nmomms, no. 4.

The Front King. For ten or more "none.
Martin-in Lilo. 'l hree melee antl two iemelee.
'eith, n nnd Charity. Fur three little girie.
Derb en John. For two melee and onofn-nmle.
The liey. A Florel Fencr. For eix lilt 0 girls.
The Enchanted Prince-e. 9 melewmveral feynelea
onnrto Whom Hon"? ll Due. 'l melee, 1 female
The Gentle Client. Tureevelnl mnlee,one female
?hrunolozy. A Diecuuion. For twenty melee.

DIME DIALO

'l'lle Three Gnneee. For echnoi or nrlor.
Lentiment. A “ Three Per-0nd ” e re.

Ielllntl the Curtain. For me ml feman

he Ete Pl Society. Five boy: and n tougher.
‘xeminatiorl Dey. Foreevernl iemalo chunk”.
rulan in “ Turn." Fnr uvorel mnlel.

ha School Boy- Tribunel. For ten boys.

\ Lam Tongue. Severnl melee and female!-
How Not to Get u: Anew". For two iemelee.

 

 

The Stuhh'etown Volunteer. ! main, 1 knelt
A Srrne from “ Paul Pry.” For tour ml".

l'lie Charme. For three melee end one iemnle.
Bee, Cluck end Broom. For thrn-e little (irle.
The Right Wny. ACulloquy. For two boys
What the Leaner Save. or two main. ;
The Crimee oi Dre-e A Colloquy. l'or tenaan
The Rewnrti of Benevolence. l‘or {our melee.
The Letter. For (we mulel.

GUI-IS, N0. 5.

Potting on Al“. A Cnllnan. For two ml;
The Straight M‘vrk. For eevernl lit-ye.

Two ideee of Life. A Colloquy. l‘ur ten girl. l
Extrert from Mnrinn Feiievn.

Mn-trv-Mnnoy. An Amine Charade.

The ix Virtuee. For tlx vnunzledlee.

The riehmen In. Home. For two melee.
Faehlnnnhle Raquirementl. For three rifle.

A Bury a! PI (Eyee). For eight oeleee littleglrk}

 

 

DIME DIALOGUFS, N0. 6.

The WeyThey Kept eSerret. Mele end femalee.
‘hb Poet nnder museum... For five melee.
William ml. For a hole eehool.

omau’e Rlzhte. So on Iomeleeanrl two melee.

e Generone Jew. For elx melee.

The Two Conneelon. Fnr three melee.
The Vnteriee of Folly. For n number olferne'lq,‘
’tunt Beuy’e Beeul. Four ielnele and two melee-

The Llhel Suit. For two fernnlee end one end-l
Saute Clone. For a numher of be“. v
Chmtmne Falrlee. For sever-l little 513D. I

 

fil ie not Gold that Glittere. Mele end {em-lee.
For theeemelee and one home.

The Three Run. For we mite

t
.J

 

   

 
 

Dino School Serial—Spenan and Dialogues.

 

Dara wat’n do matter.
The Mlniulppl mintch
Van tn “dc (mm. In,
Date Innu- vol. Muy In!

gun,

Put (S‘Fluharn an wo-
man'n :ignu

y flu home rnlen, how
they “ npuku,”

duckinh anwn on
Mothers ilvlnw.

lie didn't It'll lhu fnrm,

the hue nury 01 Frank—
lin'u kiln,

, wunld l wvra n boy
Again,

I pnthelic Itory,

I'll. lrlohlmn'l pinn-

rnml
I'll. lighcnlng-mll “9M.
. his tragedy u {out w

u,
Ruth and Nnmnl,
Carey 0! Canon,
Bnhiu
Jahn find.
The Mull-mu
church,
Pulun Moolh’o lur-
A mn‘xmtzh !
rgn in: a quell rm,
Jim Wolh Alul I!" all,

I‘

 

A new muthar huhbmd.
Bread "n Hm mum. Fl
Fornimt the Ichutlnta.
fill-mom’s usual.

Twem ' doll-ml I Mann.
Aunt mm mm. For
malt.

   
  
  

Gland-nu Gluinblrmn’n

Bflfl’lbnll’dorl. For nylon: churncfin.
A lively nlurnann. For nix males.

For two Inulu and on. fun-la.
Whm uncll Wuuld do. For I‘: llul. glrln.

The nil-concerted lupemnturnlln.
and nudiunce “ vnl u.’

nu” Ind nun] girl gnndchlldnn.
0' Thu Ibo" booln I." Iold by Now-duh» number-,0! will be um, pound], 09‘
nun-l, on ml" or pun. 10 man nah.

Imus AND Anna, rum-hm. as mm.- u.. t. f"!

All about I bu,

Send“,

A duh Ilda vlaw,

Tu got-or vny,

On anrnlnx Gamma,

Mury’l Ihmnll vlua lamb
hunllhy tllicnul‘l',

Tozllns I n In speak,

()l-l Mrs. Grim“,

A pnrudy,

Mars and mu,

Bill Undurwood, pllol,

Ohl Grantley,

l'he pill peddlor’l orln
tiun, J

Wlddar Grun’l Int
wordn, l

Tho dlm old (on...
Ruhar at home,

Thu Serguum‘n nary,
Dnvhl and Gall-h,
Dreunlu' II. human,

Rum,

Whv Ihnnld tho aplrll
o mortal ha proud!
Thu cumlng mmncho,

Tho onzlnur‘c “My,

A mndldlu fur pud-
dznt,

Rn“ cull,

An Mulla- to th
fumlly,

Fuzzy Mn-Cnn
Spray: hon

Ill. .mnh nun.

lump,
Iiliwntlnn.

Dnr'u nullln new under

(ln sun

A Negro'yellglonl pogm.

'l’llnl. vlolln

l'lcnic dull Jug,

Our 0 Andltl‘ulu“: vlewn,
nndrenry‘u VII-(hm,

Plri n lnnpzulgu by truth—

Inc,

\ BIKE READING! AND RECITATIONS,

Whan thc can: some
home,

The donntlnn party,

Tommy Tn ,

A Michlpndu in
'anoo.

NM. one to span.

Mu. Bruxy’l plnk
lunch,

Ruck dug-I.

J. Cue-«r Pompey

nmh’l nnuon,
Annla’l filth“,
Th‘ ulwshoy,
Pu’n eormpondtncc,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 31.

For olx llul- glrll.
:r (an! lumnlu.
For two nmlu.

Fur eluven nnlu.
chm lunmlu And one

’ For on. malt.

promo. For-“M

 

A turn of tho tldn.

A lruo
A

l‘ha bubbles.

I Medlcln: lot rhunm-llz.

{amula uhnnclau.
owns-bun".

lhall! in-

De circumsuncu ob de

 

BM! DIALEO! SPEAKER. No. 23.

Lute-t Chlnue anti-ago,
The Inn-iron dufiay 9!

My Mkhbar’n lap,
Condensed Myth-do“
flux.
a 'ueldu,

Th «If A! d
a slave-pi "A;

A dokelor’l (ht-w... ’

The coming: man.

l‘lm lllignnt ml! at
Mnldoun’l,

Tluu llrla baby round
the tanner,

A genewlnn Inlaoncsr

An lnvilnllun m A,
hlrd of liberty.

The cruw, .

Out wait.

No. 24.

Death of th’ cm! quH

Main mg Shnald,

AI E1 'on.

Thu! cry 01 womnhnpd

Thu 'ntlgment day,

The urll bubbll,

Curfew mun not I'll.
w-nlght,

The "will,

Tlm water mm,

Smn’l Iatlor,

meep- emu dud.

Cnully.

An my on much.

Nolhlng llkc mmlng. For n numb! tit-uh.
For Iwu llflle girll.

For two “culled put

mm.‘ W
Th“ boa]: Agent. For three m-lol undone $-

mn a.
The wall taught lemn. Fur llvo llltlo be”.
For lhru IIIII). lad

For three lam-kl.

pllod m-Inphyslcl. For tlx m

h

n.
llnvslnmphny dnl. er flu null-n nut that
, u.

     
   
   
   
 
    
   
      
  
  
  
   
  
    
     
   
    
   
  
    
  
  
 

 

 

      

 

DIME POCKET NOVEIJS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MON TIILY

II The Boy Pioneer.

3" Cannn, the Guido.
38 The Heart Enter.

41) The Huge Hunter.
41 Wild Net, Trapper.
42 Lynx-ca .

‘3 The “'11 te Outlnw.
N The Dog Trailer.

45 The Elk King.

‘6 Adriun, the Pilot.

(‘1 The Mulrhuntar.

48 The Phant-Im Trucker
49 Mecca-in liiil.

50 The VVuli' Queen.

51 Tom Hawk, Trailer.
I9 The Med Chief.

is The Black Wolf.

H Ark-mu Jack.

55 Blackbeard.

Id The River Rifles.

81 Hunter Ham.

58 Cluudwuod.

59 The Ten» Hawh.
60 Mercilel: Mnt.

61 Mad Ant’ouy‘e Scout!
6‘) Lucklees Tra per.

63 The Florida .cout.
64 The Island Trapper.
65 Wolf-Cup.

66 Raltlinz Dick.

67 Sharp-Eye.

68 lmniluud.

69 The Yellow Hunter.
'10 The Phantom rider.
71 Delaware Tom.

72 Silver Rifle.

73 The Skeleton Scout.
N Little Rifle.

'lb The Wood “'itcll.

76 Old Rufi', Tra per.
'17 Scarlet Shoul erl.

78 liarder Riflenmn.

79 Outlaw Jack.

80 Tiger-Tail, Seminole.
81 Death-Denier.

82 Kenton. the Ranger.
83 S ecter Horseman.
84 T re Three Trepperl.
85 Kaleolnh.

86 The Hunter Hercules
8‘1 Phil Hunter.

88 The lndi-n Scout.

89 The Girl Avenger.

90 The Rid Hermitees.
91 Star-Face. the Slayer.
9-2 The Antelope Buy.
93 The Phuutum Hunter.

 

94 Tom Pintle. Pilot.
95 The Red Wizard.
96 The liivul 'l‘rappon.
97 The Squaw Spy.
98 Dusky Dick.
99 Colunel (fruckltt.
100 Old Bear Paw.
101 leluw.
ill? “'ild Rube.
1011 The Indian Hunterl.
104 Scarred Eugle.
' Nick Dayle.
106 The ludiun Spy.
107 Job Deun.
108 The Wood King.
The Senile llunter.
110 Nick the Scout.
The Texas Tiger.
The Crneeed Knivel.
‘ Tiger-Heart.
Muelred Avenger.
The Peuri I’iruteu.
Bluck Punther.
Abdiel,the Avenger.
Cato, the Creeper.
Twodlanded Mut.
Med Trail Hunter.
Bluck Nick.
Kit, liird.
The Specter Riderl.
Giant. l’etu.
The Girl Captain.
Yankee Eph.
Silverepur.
Squaw-r Dick.
.. The Child Spy.
Iii nit Chat.
Red Piume.
Clyde. the Trailer.
The Lott Carlie.
The Cunnibul Chief.
. Kuraiho.
Srarlet Mnccruin.
Kidnapped.
Maid of the Moun-
tuin.
The Scintn Scoutl.
Border Reneg: e.
The Mute Chief.
Boone, the Hunter.
Mnuntnin Kate.
The Red 3 pm.
The Lune, Chief.
The Silvi-r Bugle.
Chinuu, Chm v nue.
The Tangled Treil.

141
112
“3
l“
145
116
147
1.15

 

N9 The Unseen llund.
150 The Lone indium.

151 The Branded Chief.
15‘) Billy liowlege.

153 The Valley Scout.
154 Red Jacket.

155 The Jungle Scout.
156 Cheroker Chief.

151 The llendit Hermit.
15:4 The l'utriut Scout-
159 The “an-.1 Rungerl
160 The Red has.

161 Beuutli'ul Unknown.
11)? Cencluuke More.
163 I‘iunkY the Guide.
164 The "(irtlt‘f Scout.
165 “Wild Nat.

166 Mild of “'ynnvlng.
161 The Three Captives.
168 The Lout Hunter.
16’ Border Law.

170 The Liited Trnil.

1'11 The 'l'rndvr Spy.

172 The Forest Specter.
173 The liordrr Files.
174 liorder Vrnucancz.
1'75 Border licesie.

176 The Sons 0! Lilwrty.
177 The Lost Bride.

17S Keeteea.

179 The 'l'nnknua Spy.
lhO Tile Prairie Scourge.
181 Red Li Intning.

159 Brave leari.

IE3 Night Him-k Kit.
1194 Muatnnu Sum.

1"5 Hurricmvc- 8:11.

1136 The l‘lwi Outlaw.
m The Suunip Scout
18!! The Shuunee'e

1E9 Mohawk Nut.

1‘30 Old Ju e.

191 The l’ruirie Rlflt‘l.
199 Old K312, Treilrr.
193 lllg Foot. the Guide.
194 Red lirvtherl’mnd.
195 The Mun in Green.
196 Glnu-Iiyc,1lie Greet

r UL
197 The I’rniiieTrnpperl

1148 lihich Juhn.

1‘.v9 Kern-Knife.

1W Mud S} i) pvr.

:(ii 'i he Ymmg Spy.

:in '12.. lndinn Awnger.

I ‘Jiili lliVel Lieutenant;

 

AT TEN CRATE EACH.

70-1 The Swnmp Riflol.
Q05 Tl :- Balloon Sc: utl.
QUG Dncoteh Scourge.
20'! ’l he Twin rcouu.
108 Buckskin liill.
‘109 liurdur Avengers.
‘110 Tim liunuhle’n Charge
‘11] The Slum nre Scout.
91‘) The Silrnt Sluyer.
‘11.: The Prairie Queen.
‘214 The linckwooc‘uneu.
‘215 The Prisoner of LI
Vintreue
1'16 I’rlvg Smith.
‘117 The “itch ol the
“'nllowish.
'118 The Pruirie Piratel.
919 The Hun-r Cnpuin.
2:0 The Red Spy.
2‘21 Dick Durling.
1‘92 Muutung Hunters.
‘2'23 Guiltyor Not Guilty
Ni The ()utluw Ranger.
7‘15 Schu} kill Range".
‘11’6 On the Deep.
'11)“. Iron.
W8 The lilnuntelrwer.
'l he Iluntrr‘e Escup.
'1 hr (inlden lielt.
1 The menp Riders.
" anu linult.

‘13!) The Reotur of ’76.
5'35 Antrlopc' Mm.
‘131 Thu Hulitri"! Vnw.

‘14‘2 Durhinu Iirnponnl.

‘143 “'iil-u’-the Vt'ilip.

'24-} Dullimr Dick.

“5 Old Crrrlrflre.

m lien Rumble.

1747 Brivnlid Captain.

948 Old Sitntrpy.

9.19 (mi)- Iiuir, the Chief.

'210 '1 he I‘rairie Tigerl.

'251 The Rival Hunterl.

‘25? The. Texan Scout.

955% vam Zack.

954 Masked Messenger.

‘155 The Brethren oi the
Count.

256 The Boy Spy.

THE FOLLO‘VING WILL BE ISSUED [N THE ORDER AND ON THE DATES INDICATED:

557 Tehle. the Trailer.

258 The Bay Chief.

259 Tim, the Trailer.
2150 Red Ax. The Indian Giant.

fltil Stella. the S 13'-
2ti2 The \Vhlte

'268 The it

271 0n the Trull.

272 The Specter Spy.
For sale by all Newedeaierl; or Ieut post-yum '

on year, (96 Non), $9.60.

venger.
263 The Indian King.
264 The Long Trail.
266 Klrk. the Gulde.
 '1: e Phantom Trnll.
2d). The Apache Guide.
2“) K [Full Mlfilerh
r. een .ye. t e an er.
270 Blue Brit. the Glllcf.
ny Edwnrd s. Ellie. .
By Major Lewis VF. Car-on.

By 011 Cnmnre.
By C. Dnnuin

By N. C. lrvn.

By Seelin Robins. Ready April 99th.
Read ' May 13th.
Clark. Reudy May 'I7tb.
_\' Paul Bibhe.
Ready June 94th.
By h111§0f Lewis W. Cll'lt n. Ready July 8th.
By N. vm ium Bueteed. Rrudy July m.

Rudy June 10th.

By Edward S. Ellie. Rudy August 5th.

By Mrs. Ann S. Stephonn.
By Edward S. Ellie.

By the nuthnr i-f“Seth Jnnee.”

Reudy September 80th.

Read“ Ortnber 1411:.

By Harry Huzurd.

m Lewie Juy sum.
By .lmnel L. Buwt‘li. Randy October ‘INth.
Reedv Nnvembi-r 11th
lieady November 75th.

Iingle numbers, ten i'vuil , ix month, (13 Nag), .135,

andy August 1911..
Ready September 1’

d.
Reed) September 16th.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Palm-here. 98 William Street. New York.