Pocket Serie- 5 111 I t d
No.271- BEADLE S TXK'atci.

 

 

 

  
   
    
   

ON THE T RAIL:

  

(m,

 

TIM l'il'F'l‘ON, THE TRAPPER. I

 

BY EDWARD s. ELLIS.

  
     
 

NEW YORK: ,
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, ,‘
9s WILLIAM STREET.

".1th according to Act. of Congress, 1n the year It?" {:3
BEADLE AND COMPANY.
m clerk‘s Office of the District Court of the United mm» {In

Muthern District 0! New York

 

  
  
   
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   

ON THE TRAIL.

 

 

E ' CHAPTER I.
j , A SEORRT on me mom. ' ‘

An experience of eighteen years as a member of the do-
tective police force has given me a knowledge of crime

‘ and criminals such as is possessed by few of my brethren
in the profession; and the success I have met with in
working up diflicult “cases,” has earned for me 3 name
such as few of those have attained who have been in the

R service far longer than I have. ‘

;' Late one rainy night in April, [I was sitting alone in my
ofllce in Blnnkton-street, straightening my accounts, which \
had been untouched for over six weeks, while I was en-
gaged in New Orlenns‘in trapping in forger who had been "’ r .
‘operating’ in New York with a high hand for the last ten '-
months. The dexteruus penmnn and villain was at ‘that
moment meditating upon the way of the trnnsgressor in

~ one of the‘most secure cells of the Crescent City. 4' , 
A great deal of labor was necessary to get my books in , l

3« shnpe, and when the city clock boomed the hour of mid-
night, I was still absorbed in the work.

The rain had been falling unccasingly since morning m-
til its desolnle pnttering upon the pavement-without and
route to seem like silence itself. Occasionally the dull
trump of“ timtstep was heard for a moment us it was op— ‘
posite my door. My lmhits‘ were such thathno mutter

lhow intently ot-cupied with the matter in the hand. Icould_

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10 THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

never become insensible to what was occurring around me.
I heard every footl‘all, noticed the slightest increase or di-
minution in the fall of rain, the soughing of the wind, and
'the faint distant call of “Fire 1”
I suppose it was near one o'clock, when I raised my
‘ head, and \vith‘the knowledge that the footsteps which
had passed my office at intervals of five minutes for the
last hour and a haifwore th‘oSe ‘of‘lhe same person. Some
' {one was slowly pacing back and forth, manifestly meditat—
ing upon him who was seated within,» while the latter was
as busily occupied in meditating upon him who was
without. ' ' '

I tipped back my chair, lit my cigar, and listened.
Tramp, tramp, tramp. came that step out of the Weary
pattcring of the rain, until directly opposite my door it
paused for'a moment, and then tram‘ped onward until it
blended with the unceasing rustling again.

“That for my sake!” I muttered, as I drew my re-
volver from my breast, and placed it in my trousers pocket,
and then quietly unfastened the door. Placing my feet on

“the desk in true American style, I once more tipped the
chair back, placed my'hsnds in my pocket, and puffed
nwsy at my Havana.

‘ Had I kept a record of the number of times that my life

’ has been attempted by the gentlemen who considered them-
selves aggrieved at my actions, I havelittle doubt that it
would not be credited by my readers. What claims I once
possessed to good looks Were effectually spoiled ten years
since in Charleston, South Carolina, by a burglar, who
sent a; slug through both checks. I limp slightly from a
y‘nep gash received“ from one of the same persuasion in Bil-

imoro‘ and there are sundry other scars, not worth the

' mentioning, mementoes of my varied nnd eventful life.

My impression, on the present occasion, was that the
'mun who was so deliberately reconnoilering my door had
no other ohjn-ct then my life. It is not a practice with me

to boast, but I am safe in saying that this suspicion,-
uuountlng to a positive beliefi did not occasion a single

1 .

 

   

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11

additional pulseybeat. _ I, in common with my professional

brethren, had become used to this thing long since. ,
'I‘he hesitntion of him, whoever he might be, when 01%

posite my door, showed that he was in doubt whetln-r to

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

enter or not. The lateness or the hour probably made him
doubt whether I intended leaving the office before moru~
ing, and not willing" to yield his prey, he was debating
,whether to ‘enter and settle the question, or to wait som
ithcr opportune time. '
As it was my wish toyrcturu to tny family, I decided tc
"mpt my friend within; and, to do this,I very vigorously
cleared my throat just as he was by the door-step. IIe
stored and moved,but halted a few steps away, and then
returned. My chair was behind the door when it opened—

’ the exact position which I wished.

The next moment. there ‘wns a sharp double rap, and
cocking my revolver, I called out:

“Come in l" /

A' moment's fumbling at the lock, and then it slowly
opened several inches. He was searching for me without
success. —

“Come in! come in! man alive, why do you stand out-
side 2”

The door was now pushed open, and an extraordinarily
tall and attenuated person stood before me. He was c‘lad

‘ in oil-skin coat and pants, and a turpaulin, with an appen-

dage like a l-lavelock, that was joined beneath his chin,‘and
concealed all his time except a pair of large gleaming eyes,
and an immense moustache. I serutiuized him as closely
as was possible, but he was a stranger to me. We had

. never met before.

He stood looking straight at me, with one hand upon

J the door and the other hanging by his side, as if he were

calmly revulving in his mind the‘hest method by which to
annihilate me. ‘ ' '
“Am I the mun‘you wish to see 3"
f‘Yes; I‘ve a word to say to you." ‘ -

' “Be so kind, then, as to shut the (1001';le is raining
quite heavily. Will you take a seat?"

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12 v THE PRAIRIE TRAIL
He never once tonk his eyes from me, but appeared to
be looking directly through me at something that was
erouehing behind tny chnir. He shoved the door to, and
r then seated himself on the other side of my desk. [It-re
he sat for n. moment, still eyeing me with an intentness that.
tnntle me suspect his soundness of mind.
Stillwntching him, I leisurely pufl'et away at; my cie-tr.
My visitor was evidently waiting for tne to question hint

I htttl resolved that he himself should state the objet'l of  1
this interview. Fully two minutes we sat surveying each I

other, so far as the fumes from my cignr would permit;
then he broke silence in a deep, rich buss voice.
“You're the detective, ain't you 't‘”
“Do you think I resemble one i"
“Humphi no, not tuuch, but: ye are one for all that."
“What reason have you for thinking so i"
“I don't think so; I know .so. I'm too old to be fooled
in that wny. You needn‘t tlenyit." 4
“Ilnve I attempted to do so?"
I could not avoid smiling nt the earnest manner of my
' guest. It was as if he had htitl n snare to catch me in a
' ' falsehood, and thS exulting over his success.
“ Vets ; I think you have. Your name is Pelton,
to» "’
'I‘he manner in which. this was uttered, said: “Deny‘it
11 gen thtre."
“You ttre certain of that, -I nmke no doubt.”
» “Yes, sir.”
' “Will you please spell it for me ?”
“P-e-i-t-o-n. Alu‘nm Pollen—that's your name."

V

“It ism am! to inform on that on are mistaken-
Y, Y y Y

_ that is not my nztnie."
'I‘he fierceness of his glare seemed to increase.

“What is it, then '1’"

3 “Be so kind as to favor tne with yours, and then I will
let you rivht upon the‘poiut that. seems to occttsiunvyon so

much trouble."
It ,  "9
Smith I"

he laughed. “no objection to that-—

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

w,_

/‘/

‘8. e.

l

   

  

  

v .; a»~-, _.-_,..,_.,___._ <<

5/

to me was Evan Grimke.
" treacherous fore-finger several times, and then calmly lit

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

“John Smith, I presume!
fore." ,

“No: Jnke Smith." .

“AM that’s a “tile more definite. I have then to say
that you were not very far out of the way regarding my -
name. It is not Pelton, but Pellmm~Abrzim Pcllmm."

“No dilference—I knowed you; yes I did. Did you

‘ =ver see me before i”

“I can’t say that I have. You have takenmther l
strange time to introduce yourself."

“See here," snid Mr. Smith, as if the thought had just
struck him, sitting bolt upright in his chair, and glaring at
me in such a manner that the gas jet was directly between
his eyes; “I've got something to tell you."

“I believe you started out with that observation. As it
is getting Well into the’ night, I will be,ohliged to you if
you will let me know what it is at once.” 1

He now dropped his gaze to his hand, which was daily-
ing upon the desk. Looking at the member, I saw thnt‘
the second finger was gone, and he was employed in writ-
ing with his index finger. He was doing this nbsently. as
a man will whitlle or whistle when engaged in ‘deep reve-
rie, never dreaming that he was revealing his own identity
by the action. One moment was sufficient for me to de-
tecl his given name.
ittyl'E, and the three letters that followed were van, mak-
ing unquestionably the mnsouline name Evan. Tie next
that followed was a 0, but it required several minttes yore
I could make» out the remaining letters. Finally I suc-
ceeded, and discovared that the gentleman sitting hel‘oro

1 followeal the motion of that

18
I have heard of you be-

nnother cigar. There was no mistake in the matter. I
read it as plainly as if it were written in black and white'

before me,’ but I deemed it best for the present to withhold .

the knowledge I had gained. 1

Suddenly he raised his head. end fixed his keen, glitterc
in; eyes upon me. , , I
“I’m running I greet ’03! of risk in doing this."

I

The sweep of his finger made a cap- I

 
   
 
 
   
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
     

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l4 \ THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

“Then Pd advise you not to do it."

“Yes, I will!" he cxclnimcd with n sortrof desperation,
no he shoved his tnrpaulin back from his broad brow, and
folding his hands above his head, tipped his chair back,
and once more ccnIrcd his gnzc npnn Inc.

“Yon know 'lhe \ansing Bunk up town, I s'posc i”

'I signified that I did.

“\an, thnL‘s going to be cracked to—night."

“How do you know it?"

“ Never you mind how I know it. It’s going to by
done, and I should think that's enough."

, “ Why didn’t. you'go to the police with this information?"

“’Cuuse I‘m wntrhed—I duresn't. They didn’t, think I
had any idea of you—so I give ’cm the slip. Have you a
mind to go with me to the bank ?"

‘ ’ “I don't know us I can, Mr. Grimke"—-

4“W11:\t the—” *

“Tut, tut, no swearing. Never mind, Mr. Evan Grimke,
how I obtained your mime. Perhaps you not such a strun-
ger as you imagine. I» don’t care about accompanying
you. Good night." I

This I judged to be the criticn} second, and held my re-

‘ volvcr ready. Mr. Grimke waited a moment, as if undo-
cided whzt to do. Finally, he opened the door and went
out.

   
 

  

M7?“

M???” 

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THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

CHAPTER II.
THE reensonnssxox.

Whether Mr. Evmt Grimke waited 'nntil I appeared on
the outside or not, I have no means of knowing. I hurl
reasons for believing that the information he had communi-
cated to me was correct, and , determined to do what I
could to frustrate the intended robbery, provided it had
not been already committed. 2

The appearance and manner of the man forbade that I
should put any trust in his honesty. No doubt he was as

deep in the plot as those whom he wished to betray. Some

fancied injusticeat their hands had doubtless determined
him to “peach” on his Companions. and it was my wish
to make him believe that I did not intend to act on his in-
formation, in order that he might be thrown ofl'Ihis guard
and entrapped at the same time with “mothers. \ p v

It so happened that I kept my account with the Wal’sing
Bank, and Mr. Bonfield, the President, as well as Downl-
ton, the Cashier, were both friends of mine. The former
was my hrother-in-law, and our families were quite inti-
mate, so that aside from my obvious duty in the matter, I
had'a personal interest in preventing the acaomplishment
ofthe great wrong. Mr. Dowallon, in years before, lntd
been a “special,” and on more than one occasion we had

a ' n t ’
, worked together in some scheme like the present. Perhaps

Mr. Grimke knewflthis, and it was the principal reason he
he designated me as the one to receive his confession.

As I stepped out in the cool night air, and locked the
door behind me, I saw the storm was “batting. The city
clock clanged the hour of two, and drawinlar my overcoat
tightlyeround me, I hastened onward toward the resi-
dence of Mr. Bonflel'l. Were any mid intended upon the

Walsing Bunk, most probably it had'alread‘y‘been necoln- ' ‘

 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     
   
 
 
     
   
   
    
   
 

 

16 THE [R \IRXE TRAIL.

plished. My only hope was that the burglars might still

be secured, as it was not probable that they would leave
the vicinity so long as they deemed themselves 5qu against
interruption.

Fortunately Mr. Dowalton‘s residence was within a. few
dunrs ot'lhnt of Mr. Bonfiehl, and it required but a fmv
miuult-s from melto nrousc both. Tin hitter would have

/ nun-h preferred my procuring severnl policemen, hut I as-

" sored him we could manage the matter alone. Bringing
the keys with them, and each providing himself with a
trusty revolver, the two followed me through a by-slrcet
tin-t dehouched into Broad way, within 3 doses sods of the
bunk. ‘ '

The min by this time had entirely ceased, and out of
the glare of the lamps, the darkness was so intensa that w 0
could have scarcely picked ourvwny, had each of us], not
been pvri'cctlylnmilinr with it. There were very feV' pe-
dcstrinus hluoad beside the regular police, who seeme-l ra-
ther, curious regarding our presence at this “ Witching
hour.” One of them stopped me, and it was not until I
opened my bull‘s eye. and flashed it into my face, that he
recognized me, and allowed us to pass. In the neighbor-
hood of the bank I came upon another policeman, whose
assistance I requested in a small piece of business.

“ Have you noticed anything unusual in the neighboro
hood of the bank ?" I asked. V
V “I have been here only since one o'clock, but I have
had my suspicions up. About shelf hour ago, when I was
walking by,,I heard somebody whisper to another, and
caught the footslep of some one, as it he were walking on
tiptoe.
ed, but couldn‘t hear anything more.”

“I think there are burglars at work, and if we are care-
ful we may bag the whole lot of them." ‘

We consulted together a. few moments to determine our
course of action.
the keys nn‘d enter, the policemnn following closely be-
hind, while lhe. two hank omcers were to stand on the-tout.-
fish, and shoot whoeverfiuned forth. I gave them both

I I

I’ve been by there a, dozen times since and listen-

It was finally agreed that I was to take ‘

 

 

 
 

    
    

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THE Piumm TRAIL. , 17

this station, for I observed that they were excited and
treinulous. and consequently could not be relied upon for, ‘
the more delicate and dangerous duty. Mr. Downlton had ‘
nltlllllbrlly lost the “ nerve" he possessed years bcl'ore.
Smite one might whisk out. ere we could prevent him, and
they could therefore try their hand upon him.

Giving my porting admonition in a low voice, I inserted
the. key and cautiously unlocked the door. Instead ol
pushing it gradually back. I gave it a sudden shove, by
which means I prevented its squeaking. nnd betraying oi!
approach. Just within the door we paused and listened
All was darkness and silence.

The door of the vault containing the safe Wns still clone,
and the buglnrs might be within that, busily at work. ,
Telling the policeman to remain where he was, I went on
tiptoe behind the counter and approached the iron door.
As I did 50,1 caught the gleam of a light through a slight
crack, andI‘knew at once that we had come upon them.
They were there, and, as I have already remarked, it only
remained for us to “brig” them. ‘

'l‘hey lmd not entered by the door, as that \was undis-
turbed. They must therefore have come through a win-
dew, and had then forced open the door of the venlt. It
was an easy matter for me to close and fasten the ‘massive
door, and entomb them until we were ready to release
them; but, before doing that, I,wished to obtain it glimpse
of the burglars while at their work. ‘ V .

Pulling the door back, I flashed the bull's eye into the
vault. The picture thatl there saw is photographel upon
my memory forever. The safe door was open, and two
men were kneeling'before it. One had his side toward me _
and the other his back. The former was simply viewing
the tempting wealth of the book, while the other was g-tth-
ering the glittering gold, shining silver, mid crisp bank 
bills into estrang, capacious sack. '

’l‘hht momentary glimpse was suflident to impress the
features of the man upon my mind. [fl encounterel him »
twenty years from that date, I was sure I should recog.
nise h'un. ~ Re Was handsome beyond all question. 'A fine

/

 

 
     
 

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

Roman nose, dark curling hair, and ruddy. clean-shaver:
flute, were the noticeable points that riveted my attention
at first. ’ As the light from my dark-lantern was thrown
upon him, he turned his startled gaze toward me, and I
observed his fine expressiva eyes. His jztw fell, as a man‘s
will sometimes do when affected by excessive terror. and I
observed that he had fine even teeth, excepting the upper .
front, which had one missing. '-
“ Surrender, or your lives shall be taken " i,
As quick as lightning, the man whose back was townrd‘ l
me dropped into the floor out of sight. The othvr in-
smntly followed. The movement was so unexpected to
me‘thnt when I discharged my revolver both had disap— i
pcarcd. I ‘
.“ Quick! out doors with‘ you!" Lahouted. “They
have undermined, and we may catch them yet."
lHendlong we rushed out doors, each receiving a shot
Tram the revolvers of our friends on the outside. who, for-
tunately, wore so excited, that they fired wide of the
mark. ’
“ Where is the termination of that piece of work ?”
' asked the policeman, at a loss what course to pursue.
I confess I was somewhat bewildered, but I deemed it
must come from across the street, and throwing the light of

 
       
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
     
 
    
  
   
   
  
    

 

, ” my lantern in that direction, I ran rapidly to the opposite ,
side. Here I was confronted by the face of n large brick .8“
mn’nsion, between which and 'the adjoining buildings  :Fg
there was but a small alley—proof poaitive that I was ‘ ("3
wrong. bri‘
_ All this time the policeman was running hither and yon, .
' springing his rattle at intervals, and then listening for some , imgt
. sounds that might betray the whereabouts of the burglars.  t? I
, ' It required but a few moments for several “blue coats" 16"
' to gather, who, quickly comprehending the difficulty, sepa- 
' rnted,aml'resorted to all menus to intercept the robbers, e
and prevent their escrrpe. 0p?
By thistime some ten minutes had elapsed, sufllcient‘ to \ r
insure their safety. The birds had flown, and it was 'use- 2mg;

 

r , -\ leu' to attempt to search further] However, I allowed
‘. x, i ,

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THE seamen TRAIL. 19’ i ' ’

them to continue the hunt, while I entered the bank with \
, Bonfield and Downlton, to ascertain the extent of the rab- '
bery. ‘

Great as had been the surprise of the‘burglars at my on-
trance, they, or rather he who was holding the sack, was
sharp enough to carry the contents away with him. It took
but a few moments to see that over fifty thousand dollars
had been abstracted—la haul sufllcient to allow the opera.-
i' tors to lie on their cars for awhile.

I confess I felt considerably chagrlned at the ludicrous
'l’ termination of our scheme for capturing the two burglars.
I recalled an experience very similar to this, and I should
have reflected upon this common means of entering banks.
Had it occurred to me I should have winged both of the
gentlemen, ere they could have dropped out of sight. ‘

As soon as matters had become somewhat quieted, I
prepared to descend and trace out the work of the robbers.”
Taking the lantern they had left behind I sank doivn about‘
six feet, proving that if I had sprang forward, and fired
down the opening, I could not have avoided woundingg
either one or both. tooping, I found an excavation of »
sufiicient size to admit my body without difficulty, and
alone; this'I commenced at once to grope my way.

There was little danger of encountering any human ob-
Stl'ut‘tiun, but I proceeded very cautiously, frequently pans;
ing and listening, but hearing nothing to excite suspicion.
Twenty yards brought me to the surpice again—this time ‘
directly beneath the floor of a large frame building, that a
brief examination proved to he uninhabited. Upon emer - _
ing into the room, the whole thing was made plain. Here,
in this house, the burglars had. rendezvoused and began \
their work. The room and the one ,adjoining’ were piled
up with the dirt that had been brought out of the mine,
the basket in which it was carried lying directly by the
opening through which I had just come. ” I. _
\ I searched for some evidence or clue to the identity
of the burglars, but there wasnothing to be foundiand
«‘nuiting'sure that there was no stray paper-oi telLtelo in-

 

 

20 THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

strumcnt, I again deseended into the ground, and gropcd
my way back to the bank.

Here I found the officers engaged in ascertaining the
exact amount that had been taken. The cashier found it
fifty eight thousand four hundred and eighty dollars. Tue
ani‘c had not been broken open but unloekod. The combi-
nation of letters and figures that defy the most ingenious,

.wcre not used by the cashier, but a complicated key,
:‘which he believed as safe its it was possible to make any
human Invention. The door was closed and the key ap-
plied. It was found to work as well as ever. 0n the
floor lay the key which had been need by the burglars.
\ It was a perfect fac simile in every respect, even to
the com bination of steel and brass used in their compo-
sition. 1 ,

“ Have you discovered no clue ?" I asked. ,

“Here is something that I picked up on the floor," said
Mr. Bonfleid, handing me what appeared to be the torn
edge of a letter. I glanced at it, and folded it away in my
pocket-Wok. .

“And here is something else that lay behind you‘" said
the police .oificer, handing me n pen-knife, which I placei‘.
carefully uway‘in my pocket. Both were precious relicl,

 

' destined to assist in unravelling the strangest experience of

my life

 

CHAPTER III. '
u- an.

Before, returning home, I gave the polic‘emen and the

‘ bank‘omcers tin/accurate description of the man that I had

recognized in front of the ante, and instructed them to see
that no means were left untried for his capture. This
' done, I made my way homcward, and entered the house
just as it was growing light in the east.
7 I’ was Vconsiderably’worn out and exhausted from the
inborn of thopsst week or two, “and needed a thorough

   
  
 

  

 
     
  

    
   
 

'OC-O

l3

so
[h

    

 

m/fl,

success.

I

21
I slept
soundly until noon, when, as I had directed, I was awak-

THE ‘PRAlRIE TRAIL.

rest, before undertaking any new "cases."
cited. My wife informed me that Mr. Bonfleld and two
other men had called to see me, she directing them to cull -
again at two o'clock. These “two other men” I know
well enough were "brethren." ‘
After pnrtnking dinner and enjoying social communion
Wrilt my family for some time the door bell rang, nud the
next moment Mr. Bonfield and two men entered. The
latter I recognized as Hancock and Dubois, two of the‘
best “ specmls" in New York. They had come to consult
with me, as the bank president was determined that It
should undertnkn the case, slight as were 'the chances at
A remmi of ten thousand dollars was to be an-
nounced in the evcmng and morning papers, and I was as‘
sured that one-half more should be mine, it'I succeeded in
ferreting out the culpttts. The outgoing trains from all the
depots were watched throughout the dayrbut no one an.
swering the description or my man had been seen. The
California steamer left the next day, and the European mail '
took_ its departure on Saturday. Arrangements had al-
l‘endytbeen made for subjecting every passenger on each of-
these to the scrutiny of the officer. ' I
,At first, I was disposed to decline undertaking the mat-
ter. I had been away from home almost continually for
the last ten months, and/had resolved on a vacation, so to
express it, of a week or two. My wife and children, dur-»' '
ing the former time, had necessarily obtained very little
attention, and I was now anxious‘to make amends. {Isn-
cock and Duhois united their persuasions with those of
the president, and finally I, consented. r The detectives ,
told me to call on them whenever I wished assistance, mn‘
they took their departure with Mr. Bontleld.~ , 4
Left alone, I acquainted my wife with my conclusion,
who took it in the mild, pleasant way that she accepts
everyd‘eeisiou of mine, und‘then’going to my room, I set
about exmnining the articles I had brought from the bank
with me. The first that I scrutinized was the knife. This
was small and beautiful, end to my delight, I detected on

    

' 22‘ THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

the ornamental slip of brass in the centre of the pearl

' handle the initials/of some person-—unquestion=tbl_v the
owner. There were three capital H’s, cut almost as
neatly as the engraver would have done it, from which I
strongly suspected the owner was a man of education.
There was no other clue, am- indeed could there be any
expected. '

With considerable interest I drew forth the slip of paper
from my pocketrbook. This proved to be the lower right-
hsmd corner ofa letter, and contained simply a. portion of
two Words—the last. three syllables of the word “respect-
fully.” and “don,” which was manifestly the termination
of the,man‘s name who wrote the lever. I turned the
paper over and over, but there was nothing else upon it,
and I saw that the grounds upon which I was to begin my
Work were now before me.

'The next proceeding was to subject the writing to a
minute examination. It was peculiar—sharp, angular and
not very legible. The penman, whoever he might he,
would find it a. WOI'kbf extreme difficulty to disguise his
chirography His characteristic style would show itself
in every word._ The only question now was whether the
writer of this letter was the man who owned the knife. Of
this there could be no means of determining; but, without
any tangible reason, I suspected it was. It seemed to me
as though , “don” was a very natural termination for a

.- n‘ame beginning with “II.” '

' Upon going into the streets in the afternoon, I found
' the nowshoys on almost every corner, announcing the
“Great Bank Robbery. " together with the reward of tun
thousand dollars. I purchased a “Post,” and was stand-
ing on the steps‘ot the Astor House, reading the startling
lccount, when some one touched me on the shoulder. and
looking up. I encountered the glowing face of,Mr. Bun.
field. President of the Wolsing Bank.

“We’ve caught him I" was his delighted exclamation.

“ Who l"

“Your man—the burglar."

“Ahl that is indeed fortunate. How was it i”

    

 
 

‘. ..—~n I

 

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. s:

“ He, was just taking the Hudson River care when Han-
cock nabbed him. He tried to play the innocent, but it
was no use.”

“ Where is he?" .

“ They have him around at the station house await-
ing your arrival to identify him. You can accompany
me?"

“Yes,” I replied, folding up the paper and following
him. “Has any. of the money been recovered?"

“N0; but I think there is little doubt but that we will
lay hands upon it. You see the major portion is in bank
bills, and any one will be very liable to detection if he at-
tempts to use it.” '

“ Had he no baggage with him ?"

“Yes; a black valise, which Hancock searched.”

“And the result?"

“Nothing, except! some linen and under-garments. You
see he wouldn't think of carrying the money away with
him.” , i

It was plain that Mr. Bonfleld was determined that the
man arrested on suspicion should be the burglar: and no
one else. I said little more until we arrived at the station.
house, when the arrested man Was pointed out to me. One,
glance sufliced to show that he was not the burglar, al-
though he did truly bear a strong resemblance to him.
He had the nose and the hair, and in, addition a pair at
natural‘ luxuriant side-whiskers, which could hardly be
expected to have grown in the last few hours. ,

“Mr. Pclhmn," said he, “ I trust .you will speedily re-
lieve me of this annoyance, as I am anxious to reach Ad-
bany tonight." '

"It afl’orils me pleasure to say that this man is innoi
cent,” said I. “ He is one of the proprietors of the Levitnt
House, where I have frequently met him.”

The gentleman was thereupon released, and thanking
me for my speedy arrival and prompt assistance. and we:
cepting good-naturedly the apologies of the ofli-sials, he
took his departure in the best of humor.

I left the station-house an;hour later, and was just up:

    

  

 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
     

I, my
a 'v

24 THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. y I

poslte Barnum's Museum (the old building), when some
one called my name, and turning around, I met the red
face of Downlton, the Cashier. who was panting from the
Icvere exertion he had undergone to overtake me.
“Well, what's the matter now ?"
“ We‘ve got him this time, sure.”
“I really hope so. Who arrested him ‘t"
‘ \ . " A policeman at the Conrtlandt Street Ferry. He had
a ticket for Philadelphia." ' ‘
“Was there any evidence found upon his person !"
I “I can’t say that there was, but there seems to be no
doubt but that We have caught the b‘p‘d'at last. He's con-
fessed it !” whispered Downlton, with genuine cxultntitm.
“ Ah! that puts a new face upon the matter. That is
hetter success titan I anticipated."
I “(his better than any of us dared hope. It makes a
lucky thing for the policeman who arrested him. Ten
' tlImtsnnd dollars doesn‘t grow on every hush."
We hastened rapidly to the station-house, as the an-
nouncement that the man had confessed the robbery made
_ me quite anxious to see him.‘ As I entered, and the indi-
vidual was pointed out. to me, I indulged in a laugh which
was not understood by the triumphant policeman who
was guarding his prey. The person was tall, lantern-
jawed, with 9. sallow thee and yellow hair, and was so in-
'_to;:iented that he required assistance to maintain his per- ,
puntlieular; ‘ 
More for amusement than anything else, I requested an 1
examination. He gave his name as Jarvis Jinks, and
‘ Itnted that he lived below Philadelphia. upon his farm of!
anthousand acres, but during the winter he made his her e ' t
in the city. When asked whether he had been engaged" Q
ylnunny l'Obbcry during the pnst night, he stated that he
. 11nd robbed eleven city banks without the help of any
other person, and, furthermore, he had their combined
specie in his pantnloons pocket at that moment. - I
Being asked to produce it, he opened a capaeions purse
and slowly eonnted out four large «uppers, which perform-
> once was greeted-thy aloud laugh by those around. A:

s .
A.

‘WHK -__..._

1
l
l

  

‘ without any success at all.

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

It was evident that he was a miserable, verdant youth, he
was simply locked up until he could recoVer his senses,
while the discomfiled policeman, who was now the butt of
his companions, stole quietly.ont and was making his way
back to the Cum-llnmlt Street Ferry.

0n the morrow the California steamer sailed, and ac-
qainting the captain with my wishes, I stationed myseh

' by the gangway, where I was afforded a view of each pas-

senger as he came on board. . _

I recognized several of them as old ofi'enders and ne- ,
qnintances, but still failed to see my man among them. I
did not forget that, he might disguise himself so that to
the superficial observer he would be an entirely difl‘eren;
person,‘ but I was sure I could penetrate any Yell that he
might use.

   

When the plank was withdrawn, I passed all through /

the steamer. scrutinizing the face of every man who bore ,
the slightest resemblance to the one whom I was seeking.
The result was as before.

I went through the same performanCe on Saturday, be-
fore the European steamer left the port, but there was no
man who could have possibly been taken for the»bur:lur.
What I relied most upon was his eyes; I was sure I
could detect them among a thousand. Besides, I had '
notiCed that the man had very square shoulders, and was,
beyond question, very muscular. ,

Asa consequence, I scrutinized all square-shouldered
men more closely than others, but, as I have already stated,

/

The search of the’outgoing steamers and trains was m‘ain- ‘

‘tnined tor several Weeks, when the case was entrusted to

my hands, and l was told to ‘do what I could-Aha. is, if I
could do anything at all. i ‘

I believed, from the apnearance of the young man whose
face I had seen on the night ot the robbery, that he was s
gsmblervwho had been driven into this greater crime'from
heavy losses incurred at the gaming-table; and as the bra
hsbllities were that he wis still in the city, the proper places

\

\

t

 

 

so , 'rnn Pn'mtm TRAIL.

for me’to search for him were those frequented by such
characters.

The first week or so I expected to see nothing of him. as
he would be sure to keep out of sight; but on the third
week I began to entertain some slight hopes of coming upon
him.

I need scarcely say that I was thoroughly diisguised my-
lclf; as it would have been hardly sate for me to entrust my
person in certain quarters that I often visited. had any of
the inmates suspected my identity.

During all this search, I kept on the lookout for Mr.
Grimke. He was the mine to explore, if he could only be
found. ,

There was little doubt but that he oeuld put me on the
track that would lead me to the destination toward which I
Was so blindly groping.

 

CHAPTER IV.

A GLIMMER OF LIGHT.

About two months after the bulk robbery, I was mak-
ing my way home late n'ne night, and was crossing the
Park in front of the City Hall. When in about the centre
' of the area, a. low whistle attracted my attention. and turn-
ing around I saw u tall figure, enshroutled in n leng over-
cont (although the night was quite Warm) and n slouched
hat, leaning against one of the trees. I looked at him a
moment to see whether his signal was meant for me. He
instantly repeated it, and jerked his head hat-kwards as an
r invitation for me to approach. I did so, and immediately
recognized Mr. Evan Grimke.
“Been looking for me, hein’t you t"
“Yes; I‘ve been anxious to come across you.”
“L'll‘n’t anything about the robbery 7"
“Nothing at all."
“Ho! ho! he!" he laughed, his shoulders twitching
now-ml nt ea‘ch exclamation, “You think I know’d some-
thing about it, don‘t ye i" '

int
‘30

ift

1
call
“101

l

, "c
1 and
t is h

6

g Called to me.

 

   

THE Pnsmmmsm

“I have not the least doubt that you do."

“You want to arrest me i”

“ I have no proof nguinst you, and I cannot therefore
Bee what good would be accomplished by doing so.”

“Just 'xnclly what I was thinking. I see there’s been
ten thousand dollars reward ofi‘ered. Ho! ho! they’d '
like to find it out.” ‘

“ Yes; if you can give any information that will avail
anything, you have a chance to make something."

“I s'pose all you want is to get started right—that is,
you can foller up the thing yourself? You've done such
work nfore."

" Yes;" I answered. quite deliberately, for I saw he in-
tendud to make a revolutionp “Yes, 1 only wish to be

‘ put on the trail."

lie commenced humming a tune to himself, and topping
the toe of his boot with a rattan that he held in his
fingers. Finally, he raised his head in that sudden jerk;
ing way that I had noticed on the first night of our sc-
qmtintnnce. '

“ Wlmt’ll you give me if I put you on the track 2'}

“ A thousand dollars." ‘

“Pugh! won't do it.” ' 

“ I will give you a thousand for simply importing the
information, assuring you that you will run no risk in
timing so.” ‘

“ That‘s the most you ofl‘er i”

“ Yes, sir." -

"Then there's no use of talking," he replied, makings.
if to move away.

“All right; good evening." '

I turned on my heel and walked u-fcw steps, when he
my hiufi‘ repulsion of his attempt to extort,
money had taken him by surprise. . ‘

“See here," said he, in on (iii-hand, familiar manner;
“can't you do something decent?‘ You give most thous- ,
and dollars, and just'pocket the other nine yourself. That
is hardly this fair thing." . t ‘ ‘

“I will agree that in one your information leodoto‘ the

/ /

  

 

' v

i

as / THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. \ '

recovery of the money, you shall have one-half the offered
reward—five thousan-l dollars. If we simply catch the
thief, hut fail to get the money, I will double the amount I
promised an moment ago; but, under any circumstances, I
shall pay only a thousand dollars down, and I «lo not
promise that unless I deem the infornnttion to be fully
‘worth it." ’

While I was speaking, I observed that Evan Grimke
kept looking around him, as if fearful of being seen by
some person.

“ Don't ‘you feel safe i”

“I'll be hanged if I do."

“You remain here until I am out of sight, and then
come to my oflice. I _will await you there."

r"I‘hnt'll do," he said, motioning for me to leave.
be there almost as soon as you will."

I crossed into Broadway, and looked back tmvnrd the
Park. I cannot be certnin, but I thought I saw Evita
Grimke and a man still tnlier tln'm himself in earnest con-
VL-rsntion. I moved rapidly on, and when I reached my
oflice in Blnnkton-street, the footsteps of my friend were
close behind me. I lmd scvlrcely entered when he pre—
Isenteil himself, and the next moment we two were locked
together. _ »

“Have you concluded to accept my ofl'er ?"

“I don't know; it seems like an imposition.
ought'to give me fifteen hundred any way."

“ Can’t think of it." . ,

He again lowered his head, and mused n moment. and
then threw. his chin up as before. ,

“ I'll

You

“‘Spose I should give you the man's name, would you .

consider that worth it thonsnnd'dollars?"

“By no means; ,that could benefit me in no conceivable "

Way, unless I knew where to look for him.”

“’Spose I should tell you his name, and where he had v

gone; would that be enough to bring me the thousand‘dol-
lots 3"

“Ya; if you will‘do that. I will give you my check
for the smount.” ‘

l

\ \



I

5‘?! A

c0—

fill
Eng
D1.

of

 
 

THE PRAlRlE TRAIL.

“Well, sir, the name of man who broke Into tue bank,
and whose face you got a glimpse of on that nightfll
, Herudlm."
, “ His first name i"
' “ Herman."
“ Ilas he a middle name 3”

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
 
 
 
   

s t “I believe he has, although I can't give it. It be-
! gins with Li, so that his full name is Herman Ht Hern-
don.”

I wrote the name on a piece of paper.’ This corres-
ponded with the initials upon the knife-handle, and proved
I that the slip or paper in my possession contained the ter-
mination of his name, and was a. fair specimen of his '
l handwriting. This was quite an important step in the tes-
timony, but the most important was yet to come.
a ‘- And now his whereabouts ?"
1 i "I can't tell precisely." i \ ' ,
- “ As near as possible, then."
it I held my pencil ready, as if I were taking down the
e figures in a simple sum in addition, but it would’ he did!-
:- cult to express the interest I felt. I It seemed as if he
d were purposely dallyiug with my feelings, but I main-
tained an appearance of perfect calmness. I was con-
vinced that the man had giVen me the true name of the
"1 bill‘glur, and was sure he intended to tell nothing but the
the simple truth, At length be repeated the one word: . , l}
“ Currants." ‘ ’
id I started. That was the word that had been lingering
'41 my thoughts for the last fortnight. Without being able

     

bu ‘ to adduce any self-satisfying reason, I had indulged n

V  strong suspicion that the man for whom we were search-

de ‘ ing was hundreds of miles away, rapidly nearing our El-
’ Dorado. ‘ l ‘

ad ‘* “EVery steamer, and all the outgoing trains havo been

31- ‘ watched for days after the burglary, but nothing was seen
' of him." ‘ /

ck “Because he didn’t take the steamer.“ ‘ .

 
 

t

“Did he then go on a sailing vessel i’i’ ‘
i a. “No, sir'; he took the Overland route—starting the

     

'I

  

l
\

 
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

  

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

' very next morning after the job was done, and teaching
St. Louis two days afterward.

“He must have been well disguised, then?"

“No, sir. If he had expected you, would be on the
lookout, he might have. taken the pains to have litmkml on
s moustache or side-whiskers, but he wasn’t afraid of the
ordinary policeman."

~ ’ “ It‘s a pity that some of them are so obtuse.
does the young man belong ’t‘"

Mr. Grimke looked up with a very knowing; grin.

“ I View that doesn't come in the agreement."

“No.” I laughed at. the manner in which I had ovor-
reaohod myself. “You are sure, then, that he overtook
the overland route '1" '

“He went from St. Louis to Independence, Missouri,
where he took the final start about two weeks ago."

‘580 late as that. Why did he wait so long?"

"Don’t know,” was the answer, in the same Significant
manner as before. “ ’Spose he thought there was no need
of hurrying, and he might as well stop on the way and
enjoy his money before he went out among the prairies
and mountains."

W here

'r“Why, did he not take a steamer to the Pacifle‘

coast 3" I

_ “He knew they would be watched a. little too close,”
‘snsyi’ered Mr. Grimke, with a leer that “showed he was
aware I had taken that special duty to myself.

“He displayed his prudence by avoiding them, for he
Would haVe assuredly been taken."

“That's exactly what he thought. as he knowed some:
bOdy besides the rcg'lar p’lice would be there."

“Do you think he will aim for San Francisco or Sacra~
mento City l”

“ Hardly at them plat-es will be apt. to be troubled in the

same way with the steamers, though maybe he‘ll go there I

after awhile." ‘
“That’ certainly is very satisfactory infornmtion," I re-
marked, genuinely pleased at the knowledge I had obtain-

 

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. '31

El.
 ed. The best thing for me to do will be to take the
3 ’ steamer that sails to-morrow."

vii “'Spose it would. I came aeross the plains some two
i years ngu, and I can tell you it's mighty risk)r business.
2‘ Tin-re be little too many Indians that are anxious for a
l ‘ 1 u n n

4 man s scalp to make it pleasant I think Herndon wdl

find it as dangerous as if he had tried the steamer.”

I had really gained all the information to which I was
entitled by my agreement, but I still pnrleyed with my
visitor in the hope of drawing something more from '

A, ._-._L..‘ .. .‘L r .4

-‘ V him, especially as he Seemed in no hurry to take his de-
i pnt'lurt'. : _
7~ if.“ “This young man must be quite skilled in the business."
1‘: I remarked in a matter otLl‘aet manner. '
"3, “Seems he's got ahead of you."

“He must have been at such things before i"

“Cun’tsny,” he replied, with his characteristic impu-
denoe. '

“If he gets himself ofl" free with this, he can afiord to
retire on what he has made."

“Just ’xactly what. I was thinking; and that re-
minds me that I have complied with my part Of the
bargain." '

“You have, and it now remains for me to do my part.
To whom shall I make the cheek payable ?"
~. “'l‘o Jake Smith, or bearer."

“As that isn‘t your name, I will simply make it the
bearer." ' I

I filled out the order for a thousand dollar on the Wal-
ling Bank; and Mr. Evan Grimke, after turning it over in
his dirty fingers several times, as if he doubted its genu- '
lneness, remarked : t
p- “Don't ’spose now that 'ere Walsiug Bank was busted
E v by that pile that was taken out 7” r
5‘

 

I
l

 

“ Oh! no; it can stand seVeral like it."

 

“ Your money wasn't took, now, was it?"

'1: “If you will call at. my house to-morrow, I will give
5 ' youthe money itself, it you how any doubts regarding the . '

' check." ‘ ‘ ‘ L
.9 V

i

 

   
 

\-

82 THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.
“Ho! ho! I guess it’s all right."
And the next moment I was alone. A V
On the morrow I informed Mr. Bonfield that I had
gained a clue to the mystery, and should probably be ab-
sent. for several months. The same day I took the West-
ern Express for St. Louis, having resolved to proceed to
California by the overland route.

      
 
    
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

I

 

CHAPTER V.

I
7““N“ W-M -N—-‘ A

‘ m; BMON—TRAPPBE, Human, omen, am. a,
It may strike the reader as rather singular that I should \

put so much trust in Mr. Evan Grimke, who, as I have 2

i r stated, I believed to be as great a scoundrel as the bur-
glars that broke into the Walsing Bank. But my expe-
rience among the very worst classes of society has given

me an extraordinary aptitude in reading men’s motives;
and; if I ever ,felt certain of anything, it was that this i

same Evan Grimke was telling me nothing but the strict
truth.

'His manner showed that he was actuated by revenge-—
emotive sufllcient‘to make most men commit almost any
deed. Thea makes-ping out of my sight for several weeks
after the robbery, proved that he had done so from fear. I
was convinced that, in somexww or other, he was impli-
cated in the burglary, and that if he had imparted his in-
formation immediately after, it/ would have recoilec-l upon

' gs himself. By waiting until certain that it would take seven
ral months for me to cage the flying bird, abundant V op-
portunity was given him to secure his own safety. Know-‘
lag my expertness in tracking criminals, he understood
that my information was amply sufficient, and would in-
sure the revenge he so longineg coveted, and in this man-

‘ her everything would terminate as he wished. g
’ Had Grimke, in revealing the man's name, given one
’ that did'not correauoa‘l with the initials upon the knife, I"

t ,
I

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

I
I

THE PRA’IRIE TRAIL. ‘ as

might have distrusted him. But this, together with his
manner, satisfied me of his sincerity, and I have already
shown how great was my trust in him, by undertaking a. _ I
journey overland to California. upon the information he had
imparted to me.
As I was pretty Confident of finding traces of Herndon

in SI. Louis. I did not attempt to take up the trail at the
hegirningof my journey. I first proceeded to Cincin-
nati, where I waited a day in order to search for signs of
the fugitive. At the Burnet Honso, at which I stopped. I‘ '
found nothing suspicious; but at the second hotel, the
 Spencer House, I found the whole name, “Herman H.
\

E



Herndon, New Orleans." This showed that he had no
suspicion that his name could afi'ord a' clue to any officer
who might be on his truck. Giving his residencetus New
' Orleans was a precaution that any person might have
adopted. I examined the handwriting, and found that it
was identical with that of the slip of paper in my posses-

 sion. Thus far, thus well. . t ,

 ' At Cincinnati I took the steamer to Louisville. Here I ‘
‘5‘,- "ifs failed to discover any traces of the fugitive, proving that

 he had followed the railroad to St. Louis. I immediately

, went by the western train to St. Louis, arriving just as
.' night was closing in. I made quite a. search that evening,
but failed to strike the trail, and, not discouraged in the
least, and embarking on the ‘ upward bo‘und steamer. I
Was ‘put of at the Independence landing on the after-
i noon of a clear day in May. Here the search 'was to
[ begin. . J ‘
 Independence, Missouri, at the time of my visit, was a
t 3'! noted point for the congregation of t-rapp‘ers, hunters. and .
i‘: emigrants on their way across the. plains. There were. 
i numbers of emigrants gathered here, as the gold few-r just
i I then was at its height. The trappers and hunters gene-
} rally start for the mountains toward autumn, as the ‘
I cold months are the time when the’ furs are‘ most valu-
’ Ibis. ‘ ’ t
' I My intention was to engage a guide to , accompany in.
“i r on my search to California. and to pay him enough to com-

I

\

  

t o

\

 ,r ,

’ /

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

mand hisexclusive services. This could be easily done,
as it was :I. season when they had little business on their
hands. and were open to almost. any sort of an engage-
ntcnt.

I had considerable faith in my own penetration—which
fact, no doubt, the reader has discovered long since—and
as I concluded to take the recommendation ot‘ no one, but

\ select my man myself, on the day succeeding my "1-.

val, I walked down toward the MiSSouri, which is a con-
tdernble distance from Indepeulence, for the purpose of
Br'nrchittg out the guide. The day being quite warm, I
Wandered away from the road,-snd took a seat in a. sort of
grove. ' . / .

Here I sat, musing upon the expedition I had uutlcr-
taken, and was falling into a reverie, which was the pre-
cursor oi' sleep, when I was startled by a sudden:

“Whoa, there, now! Whoa! I say.”

Turning my head, I saw a mun seated on the ground,
watching a small Indian pony that was grazing near him.
Ind that seemed disposed to wonder further away than his
master was willing. The latter was‘recliuing beneath a
tree not, more, than a dozen yards from me, and must cer-
tainly have been aware of my proximity. One glance at
him satisfied me that he was the person for whom I Was
searching. He was a splendid specimen of the physical
man.
a compactness of frame that showed ’9. terrible strength
slumbering in his muscles. His face was broad, covered

I ’by 'a thin, straggling: heard of, grizzled gray, and several

ridged sears were visible in different parts of it. I saw
that, if approached skilfully. his heart could be reached.

'In short, he was a genuine trapper and hunter, one of

those creatures of odd whims and fancies and Caprice. as
Well satisfied without the society of his fellow—man as with
lt—one of those strange beings, n hero of a hundred perils.

,who was satisfied to lose his life in the mighty wilderness

of the Far West without a single one suspecting or can'n
for his fate. I '
Iv scrutinised him as he set there on the ground for full

I

)

He was/rather short, but heavy and thick-set, with ‘

  
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
       

 
  

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. 85 ‘

ten minutes, then I arose to my feet and saunter-ed toward
him. ,
“Rather a warm day, my friend," said I, halting a few
steps in front of him.
If it was a warm day, the man seemed very indifferent
, about it, for he made no reply to my observation, exc -pt _'
by a glance that expressed nothing.
I ’ . ‘ “ A fine animal there—an Indian pony, I should
judge." ‘
‘ He offered not the least ohjcclion to -myjulging as I
pleased. Drawing forth my cigar-case, [stepped forward
; 9‘ ,_ and invited him to select one. >
“Utnph! get out, don't smoke them things," said he;
“I uses the pipe. If you've a plug, I’ll take a chew."
:Fcrtunately I was provided with the article, although
my weakness extends only to cigars of the Havana per-
suasion. Handing it to him, he \vrenched 03‘ fully a third,
and fumbled it away in his check with genuine zest, and
then returned me the remainder. I .

“Keep it," said I, with a condescending wave of my .
hand. “ I don't chew; that was given to me as a speci-
men of a lot that a man wished to sell in St. Louis, and I
have no use for it.” ' ; V,

“All right," said the man, leaning over on one side, in
order that he might place it in the pocket on the other.
“ Tastes like the ginooiue Virginy leaf. Take a seat;
) - stranger.” ' t
kf ’l‘hat plug of tobacco had opened the way to the trap-
(

-..._s...__..._s

 

:r»‘» Emma-X}? .' .
- a )' z _
~ .5,

per's heart. I Seated myself in a very indifl‘erent manner,
as though I Was not particularly anxious to do so, and

fl  fighting a cigar, began a conversation with him.
'g '  “ls that an Indian pony ?”
1  “ Yas, sir, that ltoss is a heap. I got him t’other side
‘ K the Rocky Mountains, cl’nr up in Oregon, ’montar the Blacle
, feet.” '

 

“ He must have cost quite a sum 3"
The trapper looked at me as though he didn't unden-

Itnnd my meaning. ‘ ' ~

/ “Cost quite a sum? S’pose’ he'dcost 1/934 they?

  

 

 

 

 
 

 
 

correction from the child.
.. to’ve wiped out the redskiu any way, and then found on;

ix

THE PRAIRIE TRAYL.

"And why not you, as well as me i" l asked, consider-
ably amused at his manner.

“B’pose you'd bought him 3"

“I don’t see how I could well have obtained possession
of him otherwisze."

"Umphl don‘t, eh? Wal, I knocked off the Blackfoot
that was on him, and then mounted myself; that's the
way I bought him.”

“ Was that exactly fair 1‘”
ntention of,“dra\ving out" my new acquaintance, than
eiith any idea of debating the morality of the question.

“S'pose not, when he‘d been s’nrching for my top-knot
for over twenty-four hours; s'pose it war very wrong for

'23

I me not to set still and iet him raise my ha'r."

I could not avoidvsmiling at, the earnest sarcasm of'the
hunter. lle evidently was one of those men who had
ieen enough of the North American Indian to form his
Spinion regarding him, and he had no patience with those
who attempted'to gainsay his sentiments. Such men are
Very common in the West, and they cannot bear with us
who undertake to demonstrate that we have learned some-
thing of the Indian character from reading Cooper and
other fanciful writers.

‘ “That puts aditferent face upon the matter. ,If the
Indian was seeking your life, you were in duty bound to
protect yourself.”

"Sure of that now, be you i" said the hunter, much in
the same manner that a teacher would have replied to a
“My idees would have been

)hether he war an enemy or not.”
' “ Well, we won’t dispute the matter.”
“Whoa, there, Beauty!" he calhd to his horse, who
washgain wandering away. “ Whoa, there, now 3"
' Then turning upon me:
’1 “What’s your handle, stranger?"
“You may call me Pelham,” said I, deeming it not in-
prudeut to reveal my real name to him. " May I be do,

loved to inquire your- !" v

,/

I proceeded, more for the.

   
      
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

/ l
l
.

  

 

 

 

.

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. ‘ 87

“Tim Button."

“ A hunter and trapper, I presume."
. ,“ Wnl, I've «lone considerable at that in my time, and
I've sent a mighty lot of furs and peltries down to St.
Louis. nnil I‘ve han a heap of scriinmuges with relishing
Yes, I'm hunter and trapper.” '

 

\
5
.fi... .

nv- “A. 9.7: _

CHAPTER VI.
an unwnxrrxn AGREEXINT.

When a man continues in one occupation until in
reaches middle “to, he is opt to become stereotyped. ' Bil
mind runs in agroovc, his thoughts, emotiousrltopes and
habits acquire a certain fixed circle in which they regu-
larly revolve, and from which it is almost impossible to
withdraw them. Tim Button haul been a hunter and trap-
per for twenty-five years or more. and he never could be. "
Inything else. .To—duy, so far as the inner than was con- ‘
cerned, he was the some personage that he was twenty
years ago. His frame llilti become hardened, his hair and
heard partly frosted, and perhaps there was little more
steadiness about him; but these were the only changes ‘
that a score of years could matte.

It was enjoyment for me to study such it chnractor as
he. After spending,' the best years of my life in forced hut
intimate association with the mOst hardened hypm-riles
and \vretchcs that disgrace our race, there was a relief in
contemplating this honest, open, whole-souled follow, to
whom hypocrisy was unknown, and Who in his gre'at hcnrt
hold a. supreme scorn for all chicanery and meanness.

The afternoon was before me, and before making any pro-

msnl to him, I resolved still more to draw him out. The
tobacco had opened the way to his atfcctions, And there '
was nothing to prevent. .

“Do you love the life you lead 1"

 

ts" - THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

" I never done nothin’ else; if I didn’t like it, you don’t
s'poso I’d do it, do you 7"

“Did you adopt the life from your own choice 7"

“ See hyar,’.' said Burton, sitting liolt upright, and glar-

ing at me in anger. “ There be some things which it ain't
best, for a stranger to ox."

“ I crave your forgiveness," I answered.
unknowingly."

“Allright, but don’t touch on it again."

“ You never could resign yourself to living in the set.“
tled parts of the States—in some of our large cities, for in-

“ It was done

'Itsnce ?"

. ‘,‘ anhi no, I tried that twenty years ago; but I
oouldu't get used to it. It made me sick;  couldn’t sleep
on thur beds, and there war sioh a rumpus nround me that
he soon as I shot my eyes I was sure‘tht-re war Injins
Somewhnr about, nnd I ginemlly scort the f lks by walking
up with n. yell, nnd slamming nround afore they could stop

- me. I throwed a man out the winder one night that I wan

‘ sure was a Blackfoot.”

 

I young 'uns follet‘in‘ me.

“ How long did you continue the effort I” ‘

“ Only n week or two ; I dressed for convenience, and
when I went. out in the street I was sure to have u. lot of
I went into a bunk one time
with one of these bits of pnper, that. you don get a heap
for— what do you call ’em ?" ’

“Check, I presume.”

“ Wul, I took one of them 'ere things in a bank. and
the man that give me the money axed me whzu' I come
front. I told him I'd jus’ greased a rainbow, and slid
down on it. The others Sllickcl‘CLi at him, and he 1201 red
in the face, and axed me whur I lurnt tny manners From. I
fixed him if he wanted to see some of my manners, and
when he’snidxyas.‘ I fetched him a swipe that. made him
turn flipflnps over a.  pile of books behind him. I
pocketed my money and walked out, while the other:
yelled and the young chap was larnt not to be quite so
may.” '

“ You Were abrupt with him.’

.Ah .Zi‘ We

 

  

 

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. ‘ ‘39

I .
I “Yes; he never said nothin' to me arter that. I be-
gun to git sick of the folks and things, and made a start
for trapping grounds rather sooner not I generally done,
jes' on purpose to git away from the place."

I “ How do you like it in Intlepcmlence ?"

l ' " Wul, I can stand it here For awhile, and sometimes I
take a. trip down to Saint Loney; but I never stay long;
things don’t suit me. My belief, sir," pursued the trapper,
warming up into eloquence with his subject, “or” thatV
'some folks is made fur the settlements, and' some fur the'

VA pernrivs and mountains.”

;‘ “You, I suppose, claim the prairies and mountains t’“

at “Yas, sir; they was built for such as me, and I never
want to live to see the time when the Rockies gits levelled

1 out."
 r “ I doubt whether any human being will live to see that

day.”
' “You folks out East git to making so many railroads, /
and tearing down things, that I s‘pose the time'll come
I when the mountains '11 have to be flattened out."
«5 “Little danger of that, Mr. Bufton.” ‘
 ' “There! none of that—that handle doesn't belong
R; hyer.‘.’ I ' 
I “As you please. I was going to ask, Button, how you
‘3. would like to make a trip to the mountains at this present
' time.”
“This ain‘t the time to hunt and trap; what ye talk-
ing about i"
t “I wish to go there."
'  t. “Qh—nhl" V
i _ He turned his great, broad face upon me, and sw ,
 veyed me from head to/foot, as if to make sure of n. l - ’
identity. -
“Goin’ to Califoruy, I s’pose ?" l ,
“Yes; that is mydestinstion. -0anI not engage you
to accompany me 7" V '
He shook his head. . i - I I
“Don't pay; Idou’t want none of your“ gold, 'c‘ept‘
,what I gits fur furs andpeltries.” I '

 
  

  

    

  

/‘ a ‘ was PRAIRIE mm.

“ 1' am not going precisely for gold.”

“Ye ain‘t; what under Heavens be ye going fur?”

“‘ I‘m hunting for a person. 1 have come all the way
from New York to find him.”

" Where is he ?"

“ He is on his way to California. if not already there, and
1 wish to engage a mnn to accompany me on the hunt.”

“ You‘ve never been across the perarios, I s‘pose '3”

‘ “No.”

‘ “ Wal, yan’ll want some one to help you, ’cause there‘s a
.eap of War liftin’ done since the people have found out
there’s gold in Californy.” ~

'.‘Can I engage you ?”

“I don’t know; how long 3 time would you want me ?”

“I am not certain ; but suppose We call it six months."

‘f That’ll take me into trappin’ time.”

“And what if it does? I will make it pay better than
trapping or bunting."

‘9Dunno’lmut that}? said. Buflon. rather nnbelievingiy,
’ “ A good wmter’s hunt is sometimes wonh three or four
hundred dollars.”

“ And I will give you a thousand to act so my guide and
companion for six months.”

The hunter again turned his broad face toward me.

“ See hyar, Yorky, of you want to make fun of a fellcr,
you’d better travel. It ain’t considered healthy to try to
fool Tim Buftoo.”

“I gssu‘re you I never was more in earnest in my life.
I! you doubt me, I will have a contract drawn up um!

v < signed.” ‘

for?” I
“‘1 nm in search of a burglar—"
,"VVlmt's that '9‘"
“ A robber—a man that broke into a bank and robbed
it of over fifty thousand dollars." v
“Wagh l’ whar was that 1"
"19th., city 0! New York—that man came to lnrle

“ What do you wont to make such 1 Journey as that '

pendent-.0 3 month or two ago. and started for Californm.

 ’ \

   
  
   
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  

m;
“'i
m:
hm
Spl‘
tor

  

/ \
THE PRAIRIE TRAlL. to

I on searching for him. If'yon will put your‘iervice‘s at
my command for six months,‘I will pay you a thousand
dollars." .

“ Yc‘re in nrnest now, be you ?"

“I \\ ill pay you three hundred in Independence, before
We start, if you will signify your willingness to accom-
puny me."

For a few moments the trapper said nothing. I knew
by the manner in which he rolled the tobacco around in
his mouth that he was meditating upon my offer. Finally
he arose to his feet, Wnlked to where his horse was crop-
ping the grass, took him by the bridle, and led him back
until he stood directly opposite me. He then leaned back
against his animal, throwing one arm over his ltsunches
and the other over his shoulders, and slinging one leg
ovor his shoulders, so as to be “at case," he said :

“Yorky, I don‘t know much about ye. I never sot
eyes on ye afore to-dny, but you looks us though you
won't trying to come any game over me. Ef you be,"
and here his manner showed unmistakeubly that he was in

earnest, " at you try any of yer tricks on me, you’ll never

see New York agin I I‘ll go with you.”
“Give me your hand on it then."
We grasped palms and the compact was naked.

 

 _ CHAPTER vn.

not won me war.

My guide sat down beside me, and I explained at length -
my intentlns. I gave him the particulars of the robbery,
which are already familiar to the render; told him that. a
mmrfm-nt rcwmul was offered for the apprehension of the
hurgi .r, and that for nearly twenty years it had been my
Spt‘l‘lillly to hunt down criminals. When I stntel the lat-
ter fact to him. he wits Very lotn to believe me, never hav-
ing heard that such a profcsliou obtained union/g civilimd

\

 

  

 0 THE ‘PRAIRXE TRAlL.

‘ people. He seemed quite interested in my narration, and
ensured me that he believed we could strike the trail and
follow it to a successful termination.

/ We made a supplementary agreement that, if at the end
of six months I still wished his services, they were at my

3 command for one hundred dollars a month—which I as-

snred him was the salary Kit Carson received as a guide
for Fremont during his first expedition.

', “Now,” said I, when we had finished, “ how long have
you been in Independence ?"

“Less nor two weeks."

“Then, of course, you know nothing regarding this,
man for whom I am searching, as you have had no oppor-
tunity of learning." "

“ In course; when do you wish to start i"

I “To-‘morrow. if we can be prepared. I must make

some inquiry at first and learn something about the mnn-
ner in which 'he travels; that is, whether he went alone

,or engaged a company, or joined an’emigrant train."

L‘lf he's jined an emigrant party, I don‘t see how ya
can lam much about him; there won‘t nobody know
nothin'." .

t“Ii‘ he has gone alone, 1 shall be likely to find some
one who will remember him.”

. “ Yas, s’pose so."

If” “ Or if he has done as I have—engaged a guide i”

‘ ' ' “ Yas, most likely." 7 ’
’7, ‘ “Then, if we can't hear anything at till, may we not
w l concludotthat he has accompanied a. party of emigrants 7’
It was amusing to see the look of wonder which the
7 “Inner cast upon me. He comprehended my logic, and

j . "idently believed me to be one of the smartest living mml

' ‘ -—-..nd I will not deny that his honest admiration gave me

more satisfaction than some of the greatest. cmnplmn-ms I

had received from my brethren, and from those whom i

had benefited in working up dimcnlt cases to‘ their advan-

tage, ‘
- “You'll do, I reckon," said he.
you'll be able to float your sticks." '

“I rather think

   

    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
   
  
 

 
 

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

nt
1!
he
n1
ion
me

tell \1

.m l
hm-

.hlnk

“ forward, scrutinizing each signature; but. it. rum-M

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. ' ‘8'

“If your animal is through grazing, suppose We go on
up town i" .
The burly trapper vaulted as lightly as a gymth into
the Saddle, and going inlo the main road, we were soon

on our Way to Independence. .

“ Have you an animal?" he asked, when we had pro-
gressed some distance. '

“No; I came by steamer, and didn’t need a horse. I

resume I can provide mysclt‘ with one without going to
:my great distance." ‘

“Yns; there be plenty of ’em in these parts. Does yo'
know anything about hoes-flesh ?” » , '

“ Not it great deal."

“Wnl, I’ve dealt some in the thing, and I reckon I can
tell what a good critter is. So, s’pose you let me git' one
for you.”

“I will be glad to do so; while I am searching for a
trace of the fugitive, you mny get me a complete outfit-—
horse, rifle, ammunition, everything that I want except re- ‘

volvers, as I am furnished with a couple of the best oi‘t I

those"

“ Have you got any luggage with you i" .

“ Nothing but a small valisc, which I left at the
hotel." ' v‘

“You won't need a. pack-horse, then ; but it monghtn’t
be u bad thing if We had an extra boss, in case one of
ours gins out.” '

“Buy one, then; I leave all to you. You have a cam \ ,' ,

b ans/1e to purchase what you think best”,

“I reckon I wouldn't git n cult, as they're rather on-
hnndy, and ~can’t he used in some places."

I was rightly served for using such an cxpr‘eSsion to at
uneduchted mun. Laughing at his natural mistake, 1 int it} I
him good-bye for a few hours, while I returned to tin,-
hotel where I had left my vnlise. 'I found the clerk vt-ry. /
gentlemanly, and he assisted mein every possible Why. I
went over his list of names for two months, backward null

/

 
  

./

 
 

    

 
    
 
  
 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 

  
  

/.

 

 

' p sk-uosed Yankee; the careless, dashing adventurer

44‘ run PRAIRIE TRAIL,

“neither the amine. nor the handwriting of Herman Horn

don.

“ Have you examined all the lists ?" he asked.

“No; this is the only place where I have instituted a
Benrchfi’

“You may find it in some of the other books. WI- in?”
so runny guests that it would be impossible for me to v: -
collect faces. StillI should judge, if he were prom“!-
with funds, that this would be the hotel at which 1; Ft
Would stop." "

This conclusion, although rather egotistical, was ‘ nntu-
ral,nud shared by me, as the place was by far the best
hotel in Independence, and Mr. Herndon was evidently the
man to take the best careuof himself, as he had evidenced
m Cincinnati.

I made the round of Independence, using great care and
patience, but learned nothing regarding the man. and fin~
nully returned to the first-mentioned place and stated my
Ill success.

“Do you ever have guests who do not record their
names?"

“Oh! yes; when We are crowded we ain't so part].

culnr."

""That explains the matter; and as the other hotels do
the same thing, I am shut 01! from obtaining anyclue by
this menus."

“Sometimes I also write their names for them," added
the clerk, as if anxious that I should know pwcisely the
difficulty I had to encounter in this respect.

Seeing there was nothing to he gained herc,-I passed

\

out from Independence proper to the grand campingi _ '1
I:
t‘

grounds of the outward~bouml emigrant trains. Hem
were several hundred persons collected, making randy for
the perilous journey across the plains. Horses and oxun,

| Int-nu women and children. cooking, smOking, qimrrelling,

swcnl'lug,_lx|ttglling. all life and bustle, moving ,to and fro,
bartering and buying. with a turmoil that was -s perfect
Bnbel. All races seemed represented; the cadsveroul,

 
 

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

kom the Middle States, the sallow. solemn-eyed, moody
Southerner, the rollicking Irishman, the butterfly, volatile
Frenchman, the burly, conceited Englishman, the sooty
African, and even the almond-eyed Mongolian, were all
hero—converging from every part of the World toward the
one great focus, California. Here and there, skirting
around this sea. of humanity, glided rm American Indi mm
‘IlEi-ty, greasy, besetted—almost the inevitable consequence
of Contact with civilization.
As nearly all, if not all of these. were new arrivals, it
was not to be expecled that they could give me any infor-
mation that I wished, and I therefore forbore to intrude.

“i

Hod any possessed the desired knowledge, it was not \

probable that I could gain their attention for five minutes.
Their minds were pre-deeupied to the exclusion of every-
thing else.

I stood contemplating the scene before me, when some
one touched my shoulder, and looking around I'saw a very
tall individual, attired in the garb of a hunter, with a rifle
over his shoulder. Little as I had seen of this class of
people, I knew that he was a. counterfeit. His nninner
snd complexion proved that he was very recently from the
East.

have you 'got the time anywhar about ye i" ’

I drew forth my watch and gave him the information. _

He uppem'ed inclined to make my acquaintance, for, shift-
ing his rifle to his other shoulder, he said :

“A purty smart heap of people out there.”

“Several hundred, I should judge."

“Yes, more nor,that,” he added, for which remark I
may state I did not exactly see the necessity.

“I slinuld take you to be a stranger in these‘ parts.”

“I have never been as far West before. I see that you
have not spent many years away from civilization." '

“Just there is where you’re mighty mistook; stranger.
I’ve been backward and forward to the Rocky Mountains
eleven times."

"‘Ahl you’re quite s trsveler."

1

” I beg parding,” said he, with an awkward bow, “ but

 

      

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

“I reckon I is, though it's myself that says so; I have
been tnk by the Ihjins seven times also, and each time got
away myself." '

’ “How long since you arrived from the West! 1” V
“About six weeks—maybe more and maybe a little
less.“
I may as “'(‘H state at this point that I knew the ma
Home the was l‘hlsil‘yin: in nearly every word he ntterml

{hiz him.
“ Did you return alone I"

 “There was three of us hunters together; we'd been
trappin' all winter, up nem- the headwaters of the Ynller-
stone, and we was bringing our furs and peltries bnbk with

‘ us. I can tell you we had a heap." V
' “ Did you encounter any persons when you were return-
ing ?" ,

l ' “Nobody, when we started, 'cept Injins, bears and buf-
t'nlcrs. When we got down near home we began to get
sight of white people." .

“ What were they mostly ?"

“Emigrants: you see it isn‘t the time for hunters.
Vi‘hure are plenty of the other: on their way to Cali-
o:'ny." ‘

, dark curling hair, and a closely-slmven face? I suppose
, I he must have had at least one man in his company." ’
' “ Good-looking, you say '3”
“Decitletlly so."
“ Curly hair i’"
It ifessv
“ find no side-whiskers, moustache or gontee i”
L' ' ' “Nothing of the kind, unless they were just begin-
hing."
“ Had another man with him i"
“I think so, although I cannot be certain on that point.
[there may have been several." ,
“Did he appear to be in a hurry like i"

  

_ yet as I had a little leisure on my hands, I concluded tt ‘

“Did you meet a. handsome-looking mun, Roman nose,

 
   
      

 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
   
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 

h.“ s- .fh‘-%ml

 
     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
   
   
         
   
   

   

TIIE PRAIRIE TRAIL 47

“ Very prolinblv he did; he had good reason to get as
far away as possible."

“Dressed pretty well ?"

“He had the means to do so.”

“Mounted on a good horse I"

“I should say he was.”

“Let—me—think."

The man bunt his head a moment, as if engaged in deep . ’
meditation, and then suddenly raised his head

“No; I hain't seen any such person." ‘ ’

“I didn’t think you had, for I don‘t believe you have
ever been as far West as the Kansas River, which isn't
fifty miles from here.” a

“Do you mean to insult me, sir 3"

“ I have stated my belief; you may take it as you
please." -

“ We, hunters, have a very expeditious way to settle
such matters," forgetting the “hunter's style," which he
had attempted at first. “Yes, sir, we don't allow such
words to be thrown in our teeth."

“What are you going to do about it i" '

“I'll mighty soon show you;” and he drew forth 3
huge bowie-knife, and advanced toward me. '

“You use that weapon, eh? Ipret‘er this,” I answered,
producing one of my revolvers, end cocking it.

He stopped, amazvd, and Was debating whether to re‘

rrtl'cat, or to Master still more, when he was startled by the
exclamation : '

“Now, you jcs’ leave as fast as yer know how, or I’ll
lam yer."

IIc attempted to turn his head, but the iron grip of’I‘im

' Button held the unpe ofthe neck, and he was like a child
in the hands of Dr. \Vinship. _\

“Gittin' sassy, be you, Long Legs; make tracks," "

He released his hold, when the man attempted to ex- ‘ x
postulate. - ‘ t . ‘

“ He insulted me, and"— \ I

‘ Thump came a tremendous kick that almost lifted him
' 03 his feet. «

 

   

   
 

TUE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

“I tell yer ter make tracks."

“What. right had he"—

Thnmp, thump, and the terrific double kick sent him
several feet on his wny. He glanced furtively over his
Ihonhler.

" I'll have aatisf‘nction"-— ‘

Just then he saw the huge foot lifted again, and having
already tasted enough, he instantly sprang nwnynl‘. tho
top of his speed. The momentum of the trapper-'3 efl'nrr,"
however, lifted him entirely from his feet, and allowed
him to fall upon his back. Quickly recovering himlelf,
he returned to me. /

“Yorky, yer bosses and traps are ready fur yer."

“Tell me, before we go, who that man is."

, “He goes by the name of Long Legs, and has hung
around Independence for the lust ten years. He’s steam!
to go a day's travel out on the perarie, and tries to make
‘ chl'ybody think he knows a sight. Didn't ha try to
' 11th a lot down yer throat 'bout his being took oy red-
’ lkinsi"

. “Yes; he told me several stories, so absurn, that I
didn't believe anything. Didn't you notice that he drew ‘
his knife on me?" . ,‘

“Ies’ to some yer; he's the biggest coward this side '
Of St. Loney. He'd ’ve run ef you'dpnly took a step to-
ward him.” ‘
. We made our way back to the town of Independence, i
’5 ,V where we/staid over night. As there was no earthly use I
' of tlclnyingeionger, we concluded at daybreak to strik‘a out
directly upon the plains in quest of the fugitive.
{y - Butorcatnrting, I offered to advance my llguide three unn- ‘ 
' l

 

a

 
   
  
   
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
 

‘ \--§-,-~— ~——-~——.‘_ ‘ H

ircd dollars; he refused, as the sale of s pelni’es hnd -
'lornught him in all he needed of ready money. and ho was
not aihid to trust me.

 
     

s  .r- ~V‘m‘

 

  

._........._....sm WV” 4

1733 Fusion; TRAIL;

/

CHAPTER VIII.

TEI‘ “ILLIMITABLE PRAIRIBD."

I found that Burton had procured me a fiery Indian
it use, long and clean limhed, and a small, stumpy animal,
whose looks showed his plodding strength and endurance.
Snell articles as we should need he had also purchased-—‘
that is, they were all ready, except being paid for. This
necessary suflix I added, and on a clear spring morning we
turned our backs upon Independence, and our faces to-'

ward the far-off Rocky Mountains. ' . t

We rode the [entire forenoou at a. sweeping gallop, and
spent the night at Wyandotte. The next day we made
Fort Leavenworth, where I again instituted inquiries, and
with a. slight degree of success.. An officer of the Fort
had a faint recollection of a man oflering him acigar about
a month or six weeks before, who corresponded with my
description. The act in itself was of such a trivial nature
that he'paid little attention to the man, but he- remember-
ed that he was good-looking, and recalled that he was
well-dressed. ' Helmd the impression that he had a‘ mous-
tztcltc, but could not be positive either way upon that
point.
he did notnoticejvho his companions were. He might
'haVe héen alone, in an emigrant train, or with one or two
cmnrades engaged to accompany him. ' ‘

I was pretty positive that this man was Herman H. ’
Ilerndon, authoresscd forward with ‘considorable Vcnnfl- ,
deuce, feeling more assured than ever that I was upon till
right track. Onr puck-horse having a very slight loan, “
was compelled to travel at a. good gallop, tilthongll it was
lmpossibie fur him to acquire anything like the speed‘ at V
the other an’nials. v

How I. row will expand and grow when he gets into his

    

\

The occurrence took place within the' Fort, and ‘ ,» V ’

almontl U was a' study to witness the trapper, Tim“ \

 

r

    

I

so THE mums TRAIL.

Button, As we left the confines of civilization, and en-
tered those wild soiitndes that stretch for thousands of
miles west of Mississippi, he'seemed to inhale new life
evm‘y hour We journeyml. The winds that came sweeping
fromthe flir—ofl“ mnnntnlns, he appeared to snuff as the
war-horse snufl‘s the breeze of battle. All wns nntuml.
It was only on the plains that. the genuine Tim Button was
seen. As I picture his burlyl muscular form ; his broad,
homely thee, and the kindness of his great, noble heart
manifesting itself in every action and word, he is out
of the most pleasant pictures that lingers in my me-

' : mory.

I

z

 duced a clay pipe,

The first night from Fort Leavenworth we encomped
upon the prnrie. As it was not only this, but. the first
time I had ever done such a thing in my life, I remember
every incident connected with it, even those of the most
trivial character. Buf‘ton selected a sort of hollow, near
a clump of trees. through which ran a small stream of
water. The herbage was quite luxuriant, and the horses,
being picketed, made agood night of it. It was rather
chilly, null We gathered brushwood and started a fire. We
. had brought some provisions with us, and upon these we
made our supper. I‘liad provided myself with a box of
prime anmias, and when we had concluded our meal I
drew one forth. Button would not touch a cigar, but pro-
well “ colored," into which be
packed with his big, blunt finger, some shavings from a
plug, and then dexterously whisking a live conl upon the
I bowl, he commenced puffing away ,with the height of en-
onment. '

The trapper was in the best of humor; I judged it to be

' . ‘ caused mostl‘y by the remunerative journey upon which he

was engngec, end the pleasant circumstances that sur-
/ronnded us. I \vns glad to see tlmt I had made a favor-
«hieP impression upon him, and I mngrntulnted myself more
‘thau once upon the companion and guide I had secured
for my thels. With the fire burning lazily at our feet,
we My back. one puffing his cigar, the other his pipe,

7 ' nothing disturbing the stillness bu' the ‘ dull clump of the a

;

th
git
pe
tlu

 
   

.‘ v!

tracks.

. "5v—M-¥A-~ ‘

 

 

‘ , the beaver runs of the Yallerstone. three men came up ‘to'

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL." 51*

horses‘ feet occasionally, and the noise made by nibbling
the grass.

“I judge you have no fear of Indians?" I remarked,
ul‘ler we had smoked a few moments in silence.

“No; we ain’t fur 'nougll away from' the Fort. Ten
years ago, honisomever, it woull‘be mighty risky busi-
ness to hava squatted down here and kindle a fire: I was
a settin’ here with n. fwllel‘ once, jes’ as I am with you,
when crack. bang. and the fuller went under afore he
knowed what done it."

“And how did you escape ?" .

“ VVal, you see, it war night, an’ I 105 dug out and made
I can travel considerably, if I ain't very long.-
lcgged. But I come about as near gittin"throwed that
time as I ever did since. They come on arter me yellin'
like all mad, arid when I dodged off and rolled down 'the‘,
hill, I war sartin that three of ’em seen me, but if they did
they lost me right away agin."

“ You have quite a varied experience among the In?
dians i" ‘ ‘

“ Wal, there be some that haven’t seen as much, and".
there be some that have seen more.” '

“Very few of the iatter, I should judge. Have you
ever acted as. guide or companion for any other party trav- ‘
eling West!" ,' 

“Yats; several times. The greatest thing I ever done; \ '

’«or helped to do, rather, war jest arter Fremont had got"

back from his first expedition, You see he went and had ‘

’ some books printed that told all about what he had done,lfl

and the sights he had seen. Wal. that set some people to
thinking. They thought the other side the Rocky Moun- ,
tains war about the greatest place there war in creation to‘ I
make money. ' '

“What won‘t people do fur money 3" demanded Buf- v
ton, in an indignant strain of philosophy, “they’ll break
their necks and smash things generally, all for the sake of—

' gitting money. Wnl, sir, one day, when I war at Inde.

pendean with Jim O’Bannion, tliat‘d jest come back from

 
 

 
  

   

""59, THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. 1,

'ulllnd offered us five hundred apiece to take 'en' into Ore-
gon. I s'pose they'd been rendng them things that Frc~
mnnt hm] printed, and they thought, maybe. lhcy monght
make five more dollars there than they could in New
York.
"' \Val, Jim and me linggled awhile, and finally agreed
4 to go fur six hundred dollars apiece. The three men httd
genough money. it seemed to me, to make ’em powerful
, fools to go to Oregon to git more. One of ’em WM 5 man
over fifty years old, and the other two war ms sons
—all smart enough lookin’. but I jes’ whispered to Jim
_ that if all four, ever got the otherside the Rocky Moun-
tains. he mlghthe surtin they’d never :ill git back ngin. .
“They bought all the horses they could need, and they
had a party good heap of luggage, and We started out on
I, a hot day in summer. I don’t know how it happened,
[forgit had never been so nfore, and never has been since,
lhat we didn't catch sight of hardly ared for over it
month. Once, in a while we'd see ‘em on a ways on
horses, but what I ‘ mean was that they didn't bother us
any. Wage; cl'ar into the mountains into the Blackfoot
country afore there seemed any need of our looking out.
fur redskins. '
, I“,W_tll, sir, when we got among. the mountains, them
men begun to see what they hnd'afore’em. Howsmn-
\‘devcr, we’d come so far that they kept pressing on, till it
we: all we could do to keep from freezing to death. The
2 .sl‘tow begun to fall, and it won't long ufore one of our
horses died; two days utter the, two other puck-horses
Went under, and all we had left we: them that we "war
A .ridin' on._ One of the young men wanted to go back when
' r, ' l we come to this, and the other said he war willin’ to do
anything; but the old' man shook his head, and We tried
‘ . ltugin.
,, f, HWQ dug shead for two days, it snowin' nearly all the
. time, and the Weather. gettin' so all powerful cold that 1
come near getl‘w‘ Ihrowed mySelf. On the third day we
‘ mt: mo “gun; WW on‘r, to git out ot a wind “rt seem-
o'd‘ logoth-umgn a fencr's marrow bones. Wevwar gl'tin'

   
     
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

VC‘

rm

1 hi!

hm
he
one

  

our.

 

l

‘ THE memn TRAIL.

to wait till the storm stopped. .
“ When we woke up in the morning we thund the young
feller that wanted to go back froze as hard as a stone, We
buried him in the snow, and the old man didn't know
whether to stop or go on, when Jim told him that if he,
Wanted to travel further he'd have to do it alone, as he’d
gone as fur into them mountains as he" intended to. So we

‘ turned our backs onto ’em and started home win.
D

“ Van, there I" exclaimed Bufton. shaking his hand,
“that war the greatest tramp this Sinner ever untlortook‘
It seemed it war snow everywhnr—oVer head, under foot,’
in our eyes, all around—end then we couldn’t get nothin' ‘
to out. There warn't any game to be seen, and so I
knocked over the hoss of the man that died, and we saved _
him till thm' \vnn’t anything but the bones left. It went
putty hard for the gentlemen with us to do it, but they
had their choice to do it or starve.

“Three days arter, the other felloW'lnid down in the
path to die. We tried to coax him up, and the old men
done everything he could, but he wouldn't budge. and I
throwed him on my host and carried him till night, when
he keeled over and give up. . ‘

“ Yer oughter seen the old man go on then! He soon
that his two oons' death had all come of his wontin’ to git
more money than he had. He wanted us to Carry the
body of his boy back vivmt us, but that‘couldn't be thought
of, and we put him? in the snow, where, it may be, he to
still froze up and preserved. ,

“The old man drooped arter that.
Very much at heart, and I told Jim he'd never see the-
States ugin.
mountains, he keeled over and went under, and we gave

i him a deocnt burial. ‘ _
“ Wnl. Yorky, that war about the hardest. time I ever

had to reach the States. Me an’ Jim 'xpected that we'd
he'throw’d eVery hour. We had the wolves on our track
one night, an' if We hadn't got into e sort of in cm", we'd

v

'I‘
,1“.

purty hungry by this time. too, and we made up onr Inlndl /

He took his Ion ,-

Bure enough, just as we got out of the;‘

 

x _ THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

been gobbled up. bosses and all. But We got back at last,
urtet’ hein’ gone over four months.“

“You received no pay ?"

“Yes. the Olll man had a heap of money with him. and
when he found he Was goin' to be wiped out, he gin Jim
and me our six hundred apiece, and about a thousand more,
that we gin to a lawyer to send to his family in York,
which must be a powerful big place, as it seems every~
body comes from there." "

: Button was, in quite a communicative mood, and, after
smoking awhile in silence, he gave, without solicitation.
the following interesting adventure.

 

CHAPTER IX.
A nnnntsonnon.

" It’s about ten your sin' I's clown in the neighborhood
of the No‘rth Fork, nigh about to where it commences,”
laid Bufton. “The Kioways, and thousands of other
warmints were trampin' them parts, and a fuller had to be
wide awake to keep cl’ar ofl’em. Howsumever, before I
left 'em parts, I found there’s summat else to be on the
look out for besides Injins.

“One day I’d been ridin’ my animal' till him and me war
both just about used up. We'd bin after hntflers all (lay,
and besides killin' a couple, I had come onto a ‘ sign.’ I
found redskins war close, and jist as like as not lllt‘l got

r on my trail. I kept a sharp lookout for them all the .-.t‘<
tel-noon, but when it. got dark I liatln't‘scen ary sight of
'em, and, in course, I s‘posed they hadn‘t seen me.

“As no coVer war in sight. I had to camp out on open
pet‘m'ie. This wa’nt the fast time I‘d done] it, and I
didn't mind it. So, tellin’ my hoss not to get. too far aw ty

from'me. Ipicked out a soft stone, aml rollln' up in my
It ain't often I dream, hut tltéit
Icau't tell how long I'd bin

blanket, went to sleep.
night I done s heap of it.

  

 

Lt ._ .__A

 

l

.l'

  

 
 

 
   

   

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. 53 L

asleep, when I begun on u reg'lur dream that wnse’nough
to lift a man to his feet. It seemed as if the sky and the
earthhnd turned into ice, and wnr coming toward each
i I other. As I's between 'em, in course I had to git mashed.
" Tho/y kept coming higher and nighcr, kind of slow like,
i and L all the lime, lnuln't a chance to git out of the way.
3 I tried to move, but couldn't. I tried to yell, hut it
wnrn't no Ilse; I couldn‘t even \vrigglc. On they kept
i comiu’ till tin-y war within about a. dozen feet, when they.
i stopped, as if to give me a chance to git. out of the Wnfl
I begun tryin' agin harder than ever, but I had to give it
up. All at oncethey made a jump toward each other, and
i that minute I/woke up, and i‘onnd I was layin' on my
1 hack in water." .
' Here anton, as story-tellers generally do. when they
reach a critical point, paused. While I was debuting
whether he was going to conclude, for the present, with
“To be continued,” or go on, he rclit his pipe, slightly
changed his position, and resumed: , /
~ ‘ "Wsl, as I’s sayin', I Woke up and found I war part
under water. You may bet that I jumped to lny feet and
looked around me, and such a sight as I eeul Will,‘
there! I one time went up with a. hunter along Lake ,
Michigan, and I remember what 1). big pile of water it was. /
When I looked around me on that night, the fust thing I '
V thought Was that I was back there agin. There was a
‘ _ good moon, and you could see for near a mile, and just
that fur you could see the bright lake of water stretching
- away, and the little swells of the pernrie wnr sticking up
i * like the bucks of so many beavers. , And there war old
pcrnrle grass, and sticks,and hides, floatim about in ‘s
f i manner that war a caution.
“ ‘Tini But‘tou,’ says I, ‘you’re in a fix, and have got

     
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

i

 

“ r to do a right smart chance of swimniin' More you get cut

I of it.‘

Y ;. , “And to make matters worse, the hoss wasn't to-bo,

‘Y  seen. I looked all around, and called to him, but I ,
M s'pose he’d got scart when he'd seed the water comiu’, and: \' '

 
 

had left several hours before.

  

 
  

' , undertake to travel in the w0ods.

I THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.
"I found the water war risin‘ fast, and‘the little books

I of 'iu‘th kept gittin’ smaller, till only two or three of the

highest could be seen; and in half-an-hour there warn’t
‘nothiu' you could see but the dirty, shinin' water. I floun-
dered through a holler, and when I stood on the biggest
Iwell. the water come up to my knees.

“I made up my mind. about this time, tlmt it‘ there

, .Was anything going to he done, it had got to he done

mighty soon.

“I knowed that the country for eight or nine miles
around war low, and covered with water, and of I Cnlllil
get .to the risin' ground.‘I’d find it all herd and dry. But
jest tlmr was the trouble. Eight or nine miles are too
long a stretch for a man with his clothes on, when he ain't
sin-tin, too, whether he's goin’ the right way or not. I It’s
like he‘ll swim around and round, and come back to jest
where he started, as you men will sometimes (lo when you
I looked all over, but I

couldn't ee 3 stick big 'nongh to help me.

“By thisfime the water had got up to my waist, and
I could feel it creepin’ up my skin like so much ice.
Findin‘ I couldn't stand it much longer, I tied my rifle
over my back, and let my blanket sink under my feet, and
Itood and waited. ‘

“At last the water got up to my shOulderE, then up to
my chin; and then the fust thing I kuowed I wnr stand-
ing on nothin’. Itook a few strokes, and then let my
feet drop, but I went clean under without touchin' bot
tom, and I found I must swim or drown. \The wnter we-
so plugney (cold it sent the shis'er all through me.

“‘Wal, I swumt and swum, till I got so stiff thnt I ln'l’
sver'on my back, and rested awhile. Little sticks of woo

’ mo grass kept hiltin' my face, and once u. tenrin' big 511an ,
all up in a knot, slipt right by me, just tippin’ my nose as
he, Vent past. .

" I floated awhile tlll I’il got rested, and then come over
on my face fight, and went to pnddlin’. If I‘d only
knoWed which. way to travel, I mought have Mi. 3 little

, , encouraged; but it war rather provokin“ tovwork allnight’ I

\

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
     

E

  

I

* THE PRAIRIE 

  
 

53

knowin’ all the time that. lt warn’t going to do you any
good
“I‘d paddled a half-hour when I felt my rifle elippin’

011' my back. I tried to catch it, but it slipped out and
went to the bottom. I couldn't afford to lose it, so I went
“1 down with a dive, and, would you believe it. York'y, I
Went down a dozen feet nfore I got it. I tied it on as well
4 as I could, and went to swimmln' ngln.
i “I now found 1’s gettin’ weak, most powerful weak,
I and I felt so stifl‘ that I knowed I couldn't hold out much I
3 longer. I grabbed at the sticks of wood, and put 'em 1111- g
’ dcr me, but they were so little they bobbed right up agin,
and couldn't do me any good. I begun to think that the“
time had come for Tim Bufton to go under, though he
hadn’t been a tmpper for a great many years. And,
Yorky, I'm now goin' to tell you the qnnrcst part of
’ about the quarest adventure that, I reckon on, you ever}
heard on."

Before doing this, Bufton seemed to think it wry im-
portant that he should replenish his pipe and fire, change
his position, and put? away a few moments, to make sure
that his tobncco was burning as it should. Finally he re-
sumed:

' “I got so tuckered out at last that I rolled over on my
back, and made up my mind to stay so till smnethin’ turned
up. The water were kind of‘ still like, so that I knowed ‘I', ’
wa'nt goin', down stream, and I s'posed I war jest as good
in one place as another. I had laid over ’bout a half hour,
I s'p/xse, when I heard a quare clickin' in the watet“. I,
turned over, but didn't see nothin' unnat’rnl. You know,

. Yorky, when you‘re under water, I mean when your ears.

7 I be under, you can hear a good ways; so, when I rolled
backngin. I heard the some sound. It Wnr jes’ as if 1 ~

It kept gittin’

i
. ‘ thousand Injlns war cockin' that guns.
kl plainer and plslner till I knowed itywar mighty close, ‘andy-
,n-hen I turned over ngin I thought the water. had all gone'
8! off, and the swellswm stickin' up agin. But I soon seed
1! they war movin’, and what ,do you s‘pose they war 3"

 

“T have not the remotost ides."

 

 
 

\ \

    
 

I

 

  

‘ way '1 war towed along war a caution.

' lthad all gone.

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

“Why, it war a drove of bufll'srs, and they war comln‘
toward me. Thinks I, ‘liyar's a chance.‘ I held up till
they get near me, when two or three snorted and shied
off; but there war so many that they kept comin', and in
afew minutes I was right among ’emv All I could see
war big open noses, horns and Staring eyes, and now and
then the mane of some old bull, when he rose out the
water.

' “After I got among ’em they didn't mind me much,
though one of ’em gave me a powerful dig with his hoof.
Ifelt around for awhile till I got hmd of a tall. and the
He kept snortin'

and turnin' his head, no doubt thinkin’ he had the Old

Boy in tow, but I hung on so'tight, he concluded to take

things quietly, and so he went ahead like a steamboat. I

got along ‘swimmingly,’ and all I had to do war to hold

on. and yell once in a while. and the bufller went along
jes' us if he Was my hoss and I was a drivin’ him.

' “I hung ona good while, till I found he war gittin'
tired, when I let go and grabbed nnothcr's tail. This war
a big bull, and he didn't exactly like to have mehooked
onto his tail, and when I nabbed him he turned around,
and made a hinge at me; I dropped under, and come up
and grabbed his tail agin. and givxn’ a snort or two, he
Iconnnenced towiu’ me in time style.

, ’ “The herd warn't very large, and I soon seen the old
bull .war fallin’ in the rear. I didn't seem to trouble him
much only to make him go slower, and putty soon he war
about the last.

“Wal, I s’pose I must have been towed a couple of
liours, when I felt my feet touch bottom, and lettin’ both
(ll'ng, Ivfound they‘d touch every swdl. The water war
tlien‘fitllin’, and would go oil‘ as fast as ithad come. How-
'Inniever, I hung on till my knees bumped agin the ground,
and 1 found the head bufilers had i'iz to their feet, and
war slinkin' themselves. They had reached a risin’ ground,

\ nudas'the water/war gittiu’ mighty low, there war only a

few inches lefty'and goingfurther, I found a place when

  
     
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

«w...
P-‘n—_en

  

I

‘ THE PRAIRIE TRAIL: a

"I went on till I got ahead the bufilcrs. My clothes
Ilappml about. me, and the water squished up my back at '
every step I took. I was so cold that I had to keep
thlkln' to save mysell‘t‘rom freezing to death. It seemed
about a month More mornin'; but at last the pcrarie be-
gun to lighten up, and the day mine along close behind it.

7 I then seed that the water war so much gone that I could

/ take a tramp. There was about a thousand bu fliers around
thnr. mopin' about, all so wet that they looked like blan-
kets walkin’ round on ramrods.

“As soon as I located the sun, I commenced makin'
the tallest kind of tracks in the soft mud. I had to tramp
through some water, but at last I got to the high ground,
that. first I spoke abaut. Nearly the first thing that I set
eyes on war my hoss, that looked as though he‘d been sit-
ling: up all night and expoctin' me, and was quite anxious
that I had staid away so long.

“It didn't take me long to mount the animal, and I
struck a hee line for Westport, and hardly stopped till I

‘ rcinetl up in front of the hotel, what it took me summat
less than a week to get dried."

Before we turned in for the night Button ascended the
sn'ell and looked around him to see whether there was any

( sign of danger. Far away to the west he caught the
twinkle of a camp-fire, but judging it to belong to‘friends,
7 it occasioned us no uneasiness, and we lay down“ and slum-
‘bcred. V
I

 

CHAPTER X.

¥ A TASTE 0" PRAIRIE LEI. i

g In journeying to California. Tim Button avoided the re-

gular “Ovurland Trail," for which proceedjng he had
l'IeVeml reasons. At this particular time this route was
l Iwurmlng with emigrants. among whom Were numbers of
" the most inveterate thieves and scoumlrels that ever af-

' 74. flicted a community. There was no telling what hour of I
. § ‘

\

 

 

ran Pawns mam

on 

av

the; night they might steal upon us——-or, in vulgar par-

lance “make a raid"-—and abstract our horses. While
standing near the camping ground at Independence, I had
recognized among those assembled there full at half dozen
of the most notorious criminals of New York and Phila~
dolphin. I therefore liked the trapper"s prudence in giv-
ing these gentlemen a wide berth. They were not agree-

, able neighbors. and we preferred that they should remain
strangers to us.

Besides this, the Indians hovered like vultures around
the outgoing trains. If an adventurer was tempted to
wander 01! in search of an antelope or deer, the chances
were very strong that he would never return. The utmost
watchfulncss was necessary to guard against the stam-
pede of their animals, or a wholesale massacre of the emi-
grants themselves. The plains were full of roving bands
of lndians, who were openly hostile and defiant, and who
night We“ laugh to scorn any effort of the United States
Government to reduce them to obedience 0r respect of
its laws. .

By diverging from the regular route, we took a course
that was Well known to my guide, and one by which we

' could advance with equal celerin toward our destination.

’ The probabilities were that Herman H. Herndon was al-
ready within the confines of Caiit‘orniatand we ran little
chance, therefore,“ overtaking him.

“A little chance," I say, for indeed there was a slight V

chance of coming up with him. Had any misfortune he-

tt‘ullen him—had he been captured, taken sick or robbed,

the might still be within our reach. This possibility did

not escape my attention, and it was the reason why, at

‘ regular intervals, we approached the vicinity of the over-

' land trail.

" “It the redskins hav e got that feller, I don't see much

, vase in folierin' him," remarked Burtontone day when we

7had camped for awhile in a grove of timber. “ We might
catch him, but how 'hout the money 3"

“Not much chance. but we are as [anxious to catch tho

i

\

 

 
 

be

  

35'

re ‘
ht

ho '

THE PRAIRIE TRAlL. ‘ '61

man as the money. If we got him, we should be pretty
certain to reach some of it."

“S‘poso we found out that he has been nabbed by some
of the reds and carried off—what then?"

“I shall then do as you say—whatever advice you give
I will follow it."

This C(mt‘csslon to the trapper's wisdom plainly grati-
fied him, and he whitfed harder titan ever at his old blaclr
pipe. We. halted but a short while, when we resumed
our-journey. swerving off to the southward so as to ap.
proach the vicinity of the immense wagon train, ‘ that may
have beet: said at. that time to have stretched clear across
the western portion of our continent. 7

At night we were compelled to camp on the open
prairie.» By this time we were in a neighborhood where
We had reaeon to fear Indians, and Bul‘ton suggested that
after we had cooked our supper, the fire be allowed to die
out. 1 interposed no objection, for my dislike of the In-
dians was, perhaps, greater than his. I knew enough of
them theoretically to make a more practical knowledge un-
desirable.

Darkness had hardly set in, when the trapper had called
my attention to a light that was visible, apparently about
a couple of miles ahead of us. Its flickering, star-like ap-
pearance, showed unnnstakably that it was that of a camp-
fire, although so far away that we could not catch a glimpse
of the figures around it. V

,“I'm nfuard there's gwine to be trouble there," re-
marked Button, as we stood surveying it._ “We‘re in no
country where Injins are mighty thick, and if they don‘t "
ke‘cp a powerful lookout there’ll be some ha’r raising done
in 'them parts to-night." '

“ We haven't seen anything of savages tofidey."

"Plinty of ‘sign' though."

“That may be a large emigrant train—strong enough to
be suture against any fn'ce of Indians."

“ Yas," replied the trapper, in a manner that showed
be doubted it yery much, “it may be. but there ain't .
Insuy such trains that can afiurd to go to sleep without

 

    

' nos ' THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

having a good number that knows what’s what standing on
guard."

I did not exactly comprehend Bufton’s apprehension re-
garding the safety of our neighbors. There Were any
number of emigrants abroad, and doubtless hundreds nf
camp fires Were twinkling on the prairies at that. moment.
Why, therefore, this one should be in such danger, it \Vzli‘.
Impossible for me to determine.

We ate our supper, pit-keted our animals, and then re,-
clined upon the grass to indulge our pipe and cigar. i
noticed the trapper took such a position so that he con] i
survey the distant camp fire and at the same time keep his
eye upon our horses.

The night was quite warm, and we lay for it long time
conversing upon subjects uninteresting to the reader. It
must have been Well on toward milnight when Bui‘ton re-
marked;

“If the imps do pitch in thar, it’ll be putty soon."

“ I am in hopes your fears will prove groundless—4’

“Thar they be I"

Clearly and suddenly, on that still summer night, came

” the sharp crack of rifles, and the unmistakeable yells at

’ assaulting Indians. Simultaneously with Bnt‘ton’s exclam-
ation, he sprang upon his pony and shot ofl‘ like a thun~
derholt toward the scene of conflict. I was so amazed
that I had not time to inturpose a word.. It was as it‘ the
crack _ot'_ the rifle had been the preconcerted signal for him
to start off like mad and to break his neck by being thrown
headland over his horse‘s ears.

It' was no pleasant situation for me to be left entirely
alone, with the absolutecertainty that white and red men
Were engaged in mortal combut less than two miles (lis-

gtu‘nt. The contest, from the nature of the circumstances,
conll not be of long duration} the Indians would retire,
and what would he their line of retreat? Would
H pass anywhere near me? Would Tim B that) ii rl his w Ly
haclhtguini Would he not. be slain or captured? And

in that event what prospect was there of my ever seeing '

I Herman H. Herndon and/the fifty odd thousand dollars

 

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5mm rennin mm in

supposed to be in his possession? Would not the great:
est thing that I could accomplish be my own safety, which
at the most looked rather dubious just then? ,
Such were the questions that I propounded as I stood
alone on thnt still summer night and listened to the sound
of ('(Htfllyt. 'l‘he tones of a man in ordinary convers-uion
would have been audible for a mile, so quiet and motion-
less was the air. I could hear that peculiar whoop and

stretching yell of the Indian, which is imlescrilmhle, but

which, when once heard, can never be forgotten, and“

now and then what I supposed to be the shouts of white
men. The latter, however, worked more silently than the
former. _ ‘ ,

Having no means of judging of my own danger, I
deemed it best to be prepared for flight or battle, as the
case might be. Accordingly, I mounted my horse, and saw
that my revnlvers were in order. I sat with a. light rein
and listened. '

After the lapse of fifteen or twenty minutes, the sounds
of bottle ceased almost entirely, and the some profound
stillness as before settled over the prairie. Now came the
imminent danger to me. The Indians were doubtless
lcnving the scene of \varflire, and might be coming in a
direct line toward me. There was on earthly chance—for

_ me in case of discowry, ns, beyond question, they were

better mounted, and could overtake me very speedin in
case of attempted flight.
While I sat on my horse listening, my strained em

caught the sound ofhorses’ feet. galloping over the prairie. _

My first impression was ihnt it was Burton, returning, but

_I had good reason to fear it was different. Dismouuting,

I placed my ear to the ground and listened. I, It required
but a moment for me to satisfy myself that there were
fully a dozen horsemen rapidly approaching. I instantly

remounted. and endeavored to catch the precise direction, ,

in order that I might look to my own safety.

While debating, I caught the dim outlines of o horsemen
on my left. going at full Speed. in on instant 'he bod
whiskedpy, and disappeared in the-darkness. He we!

 

 
 
   
 

.7.

I

6;, THE PRAIRIE men.

immediawa sncceded by another, then another, then three
n‘early nbreaél, and then several neck and neck, and
finally one' in the rear. Like meteors, for one moment
‘ Visible, then swept by and Were switllowetl up in the dark-
l'ness.

The Indium had gone, the danger was past.

I drew a brenth of relief as the lust one disappeared,
and I knew tlmt my presence had not been suspected.
My concern was now for Tim Burton. Haul the attack

‘ been successqu How many scnlps dangled from the
girdles of those red demons that had just whisked by?
Was that of the trapper, Tim Button, among them?

When I had waited a half hour I began to grow ner-
-yons. I had faced more imminent danger than this; but
the_ circumstances in which I now found myself Were novel
md peculiar. It takes time for a man to become accus-
tomed to : certain species of danger. I can any without

 

boasting, that I have coolly faced dentin a score of times 7

‘Iithont fllnehing; but this wnslihe first time I had ova
been left alone at midnight on an open prairie, with wild
Indians around me. Perhaps at. the end of a few months
I would not mind the thing as much as I did just then.
But—-

Sh! what's that ? Another horseman!

While I strain my eyes, I suddenly catch sight of a
Juge form on a small horse riding toward me. While yet

, in doubt. it comes more plainly to view, and the next. in-

Itaut a well-known voice breaks out:

“I’ve done more ha‘r raising to-night than you'll do in ‘

’«yonr lifetime." ,
\. ‘And as he spoke, he held up in the faint light 1 cluster
of the dreadful trophies of barbarous warfare.
I

   

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THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

CHAPTER XI.
9111.; onsnD.

The Indinns, on that night, made as great mistake 33"
did Tim Burton himself. The party they assaulted con.
sisted of about fifty emigrants, including twenty men,
among whom were several who had been on the plains
before, and understood something of woodcrnft. They
knew that the savages—most probably the Arnpnhoes—
had been on their trail for seVeml days, only wailing-for
their opportunity to come down upon them like Wolves
upon the fold. This being the case, nnd it being evident
that they Were determined on an assault, the whites con-
cluded it would be far better if the conflict should take
place ere‘they entered the mountains, where there was
danger of their being ambushed. Accordingly they laid
their plans to entrnp the Indians. The women and chil-
dren were so disposed that they were beyond danger, while
the men protected themselves from the bullets, and made
it appear as though they were totnlly unsuspicious of
danger. Their blankets were rolled up, and laid eta
short distance from the fire, so as to resemble men in
slumber, and then, vigilant and wakeful, they awaited the
assault. ’
/ It came at the very time predicted by the mountaineers.
The savages poured in a. volley at the inanimate object.
by the fire, and then rushed forward. Too late fol-them-
selves they found their mistake. They received s mur-

‘(lerons volley in return, and the dreadful lmnd-to-hnnd
Conflict almost iunnedintely begun. While it was raging,
Tim Bul‘ton burst in among them, and from the results I
know he must have raged like an incarnate fury. 'l‘erribly
,I'epulsed. the snrvivmg Indians speedily drew off, and re. ,
tired more expeditiously thsn they came. The whites did .

/

 
    

a I

   

 
 

. r i
V“ THE PRAIRIEI'I‘RAIL.
not lose a man, while the slaughter of the “red-skins "
was terrific.

My companion was quite jubilant ovor the result.

“The tallest kind of a. scrimmage I‘ve been in fur two
years," he remarked. “Dims a fuller good to git into
our-h a row; makes him fetal a kind of loose and easy ”

“It may have that effect on you, but I‘d ratlwr be

rr-nsed, so long as practicable, from joining in such af
rs."

“ Some people have quarc tastes," remarked the trapper,
as if it Were incomprehensible to him how I failed to ap-
preciate the enjoyment of such a scene.

We lay down to slumber, but the excitement of the
events that had just taken place drove all slumber from my

 

eyelids. Burton, however, in ten minutes was sound
asleep. He said there was no danger of our being dis-

turbed, and he showed his belief that such was the case
by resigning himself to unconsciousness. I lay upon the
ground for the remaining hours of the night as wide awake
as I am this moment. Not once did I detect the slightest
indication of danger; the horses quietly nibbled at. the
grass until they had their flll, when they, too, gave them-
‘snlves up to rest. Glad, indeed, was I when the sky
gave indiCations of daybreak. , W

- V A good breakfast, and a few miles’ ride in the clear,
bracing morning air, soon revived my spirits.
seemed, after I had been a few days upon the plains, that
Ihad taken anew lease of life. The atmosphere was
purer than in the States, and there was an expansion of
soul as I looked around and gained for the first time some

1 den of the vastness of the country we call our own.
'jomctilnes I felt almost ashamed to think I was hunting a
criminal over this lovely expanse, that so sordid a motive-—
if such a term be allowable—led inc forward.

I There are moments in almost every one’s experience
when a scnSation that is startling flashes oVer his soul.
While standing upon the sea-shore, looking out upon the
vast deep, the wind: ocean with its thousands of miles in,

-width, its hundreds of fathoms in depth—415 islands, it.

In fact, it

 
  

   
 
 
  

 

 

    

 
   

   
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

 
 

I “mg.
yrfi~

 

 

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. ' w

zones, capes and continents, storms and sunshine, will
pass in all their snblimity before the mind. Their extent,
and power nnd vastness will be fully realized—hut it is—'
only for nninstnnt. We are lifted for a second, as it
were. out of the body, and given it superhuman View of
the scene, a portion of which is only visible to cur
Senses.

So, in riding over the prairie, there would come mo-
ments when I have gasped, and my heart has beat faster
attasensntion similnr to the one to which I have just
referred. The immense rolling prairie, its Willel‘fflus,
rivers and canons, its clmsms, abysses and snow-crowned
mountains; the thousands upon thousands of square miles
of solitude; the innumerable herds of buffaloes and wild
horses; the roving Indians and plodding emigrant trains
—nll these were realized—110 other word will express my
meaning-—were fully realized.

I may now any that we were fairly out upon the blond
prairies—away beyond civilization, where, under a kind
Ilenven, we had only ourselves to rely upon for protec-
tion. Bufton scanned the horizon for “sign,” as he
termed it, communicating now and then the (pleasant- in-
formation that we were liable at any moment to be pounced
upon by a party of redskins, who would have little re-
spect for the motive that led me thither. We generally
kept within a hundred miles of the "Trail," so that i:
Compelled, we could seek assistance from some emigmnt
train.

We were riding along one afternoon, when I observed

' that Bufton kept glancing to the southward, as though he
I, ml discovered something that was not very pleasant. to

him. Finally I inquired:

“What is it that seems to interest you so much, But
ton ?”

“Sign ngin." '

“ Indians?"

" What else could it be I"

“How many are there i"

“Nighunto a dozen—right south.of us, too."

/

  

  

   

 

we rmmm mun
“Will you please locate them for me ?"

He pointed toward the spot where he saw them, and re-
quested me to tell him how many I saw.

At first I was unable to see anythng more than usual.
The sky shut down on all sides, as if we \err) in the midst
of the/occnn. Away ahead, Pike‘s Peak lumnel up in the,
sky, dim and hazy in the distance, like a (hint blue r-lmnl
resting upon the horizon. Concentrating my gun Inward
one particular point, I was finally able to dislinunkh a

number of faint specks that seemed vibrating just on the ‘

line between heaven and earth. They were like stars seen
at mld-(lay—very diflioult to find, when last; but when
the vision was turned directly toward them, very plain to
be seen. They had that peculiar flickering appearance
that showed they were moving.

“See 'emy?" asked Button.

“ch; but I cannot understand how you can identify
them at that distance. They may be whites."

“ No maybe about it; they're reds every one of ’eml"

“Do you think they have seen us ?”

“Guess not; but I ain‘t sartin—maybe they have."

“Are they traveling toward us 3”

“They‘re trampin' nlong the same path; they’ve been
In about that fur ofi‘ fur the last three hours."

“ Do you think they will trouble ns t" y
l " “Can’t tell; they‘re in the worst place they could be;
ofthere on our left. Et‘ we have to back out, there’s no
chance to get to the Trail and get help."

“Do you think that is necessary ?"

“I don’t like much to think we’ll have to hunt up

1 others to take care of us, and I wouldn‘t do it if you .

Warn‘t with me." ,
, “ Is there no other chance of escape if they should ap-
‘ preach i" " '

‘fYonr hose, thar, looks as if he war made to do some
.trampin', and I knew Beauty can do it. for he‘s done the
same thing more nor once More." , \

“It seems that the prairie is unusually open and free

jn'om trees, in it not 9"

  
 
 

 

 
  
   
   
    
  

1 I
’9‘”, 4

 
 


\r ,
i;
[.

’rne PRAIRIE TRAIL. to:

“ Dunno as it is; it's the natur of the thing in these
parts. In a day or two we’ll get into u better trnvelin‘
Connli‘y. What I'd give the must i‘ur this minute is the
sight of iimlmr.”

Iscnnnud the prairie in every direction to as‘xlst the
trimmer—4m emirer useless proceeding, as his 0sz Were
mm» to detect it lit-fore mine. Turning my hand toward,
- Iv pint where the Indians had been seen, I failed to \dil-

x'vr them. I

“Ah !, they're gone!" I exclaimed. ‘

“ Look a little further ahead," he added; “they're In
sight yet."

I did as told, and detected the specks again. I was
sure, however, they were more faint, and, consequently,
more distant from us. Iremarked as much to the trapper,
who stnted that I was right. I ~

“ They’re animals, and are on n gallop, and they're goin'. \
arter something. They haven't seen us, an‘ we ne'edn’t
fear neeinl them very anon." I

Fifteen minutes later Button announced that they had
disappeared, and there was little if {my probability of our
ever seeing them again. Shortly after I raised my head,
and directly in front of us, but. several miles distant, Isnw
a small grove of trees. I was so surprised and gratified
at this, that I scrutinized it several moments before I ven-
tured to feel certain. Then I remarked, very noncha?
lantly:

“Yonder is the grove, Button, for which you have
been wishing.” v
I saw the hunter smile, and knew at once that he had
, seen it long ago, and was only waiting to find out how ,
.‘Iong it would take me to make the discovery. He did not ’
choose to inform me, however, of this fact, which was

evident enough to me.
, Wu directed our course toward the timber, which
proved to consist of some forty or fifty trees, and to he on
the banks of a small stream—n very fln'tunnto circumstance
—-as both ourselves and-oan winni- were both tired end

’ thirsty. I ‘

n.

 

 
  

 

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

to,

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

‘ /

We were several hundred yards distant, when Button
lluddenly reined up, with an exclmnntion of dismay:

“ ‘ Sign ’ agin, and the tallest kind."

I scrutinized the wood, but. could see nothing at all to
cause this exvlnmation. We stood several moments in si-
lence, and then I snid:

“ What under Heaven .alnrms you, Button?
nothing anion},r those trees to give cnuse for it."

“’Cztuse you’re looking in the wrong place; look also i
the trees, in the sky."

I Can see

CHAPTER XII. v
rm: nun.

Directly above the trees, rising almost imperceptibly
through their tops, was just visible a thin, perpendicular
column of smoke, growing fainter as it progressed up-
ward, until at the distance of twenty-five or thirty feet it
mingled with and was dissolved by the clear atmosphere.
This prima facie evidence of u cmnp-fire beneath was the

'l'

l

“ tnllest kind of sign,” that had attracted the attention of

, the trapper.

, “Some one thnr, sartin," said Button, in an undertone,

I as we stood contemplating the grove.

"Indians, I guess.”

“Dunno; (mg-liter to know better not that, ’less there
be a big “party of ’em."

Admonishing me to keep my position until he returned.
Ind not to advance nearer the grove until he should sign
to me by the call of the whip-poor-will, the trappr-r Ili«
mounted and commenced approaching the cluster at trees.
I watched his motions with interest Instead of going
directly toward them, he took a circuit, and came‘upou
them from an entirely difl'erent quarter.
disappeared. and I anxiously awaited his return or signal.
‘ Fully twenty minutes elapsed ere the low, treniuloul

C

In a moment he

“ M» ,MM.C

,. -~<-;-.,~\.mv ‘7 :M m

    
         
     
   

 

NA ~~"""‘ -

r a»:

t . i

A THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

whims, repeated several times, admonished me that “all
Was Well." ‘ ‘ 4
I then rode gladly forward, and as there was no dim-
cnlty in making my way through the trees, I directed the
horse’s henvl toward the center of the grove. It required
but a. few moments for me to co ue upofi a catnip-tire, hy

I which Were sentetl Tim Bui‘Iovi and number hunter, smok-

ing, nml apparently an the best. of terms.

“Yorky, this hycr be Szun \V'mlswm‘tlt," said he, introw
dncing us in his characteristic manner. “Shin has done
some [all huntiu’ and lizL'r-misin' in his time. Squat."

The man before me was tall and attenuated, with 9. Nb
(lavernus face and a thin, sharp nose, and n. twitching nor.
vousness of the eyes so frequently seen in those of his
class. He had a llC“]). puntlerous lmss voice, and seemed
to be of a sociable disposition. Extending me his hand,
he bade me Welcome. I sat down, smoked my cigar, and
conversed on uninteresting subjects, and then gradually
edged toward the subject of my thoughts.

“You are on your way to the beaver-runs of the Yqu ,
lowstonc'"

“Yes; that he sof’

“ Are you directly from the States i"

“No, I’m from Culifurny jus’ now.’_‘

f‘Ah! hunting gold, I suppose t" 

“Nu—l took a couple of men across—they was from
’wuy down East sumowhur."

" Do you recnll their names ?" t.,

“ One was Smith—Torn Smith—and the other mm-
lel—me—see—was Hemley—no, Hermie n—Herman Hemp
don I" ‘

“ Them’s jes’ the ones we’re huntin'," replied Burton. ; \

“What yer huntin' them for ?" demanded the hunter, iii
gz-enter surprise than ever. i t

“ One of 'emL-tlmt Herndon—has about fifty thousand
dollars or thr-l‘cnlmttls that anky has some claims on." I

 “Well, there!" exclaimed Wadsworth, “I's sure that
chap had a lot of monvy in that little trunk he had with 1
um. I] heard it rattle more not once. and he was so

i

 

l

.n rim PRAIRIE-TRAIL.

mighty afenrd on it. It seemed to hurt him if anybody
else touched it, and he always slept with his head resting
agin it. And then he paid me a thousand dollars to take
him into California.”

“Did you go all the way to San Francisco ?"

“No; I got him into the State, and onto the right road
and then turned 'round for trappin‘ grounds, where I'm
goin' to stay till it comes time to set my traps. ” ,

“Ye see, Yorky, there’s a tribe of friendly Injuns up in
them parts, and Sam has his eye’ on a young sqnnw, and
it’s his idee to be as near her as he can and as long as he
can."

“Very sensible, if he feels any admiration of the young

,rlady.”

“She's jes' the sweetest critter that walks," said Sam,
with a sort of desperate doggedness, emitting a volume of
tobacco smoke, and closing his eyes and shaking his bond,
as if to signify that it would not be safe for any one todis—
pute him on that point.

_ I gained little additional information by conversation
w/ilh the hunter. Of course there could be no doubt now
of being on the trail of Herndon. He was in California nt
this moment, and it only remained for Button and myself
to push forward as rapidly as possible; As we were to~
,encamp in the grove, we made ourselves as comfortable as
we could. I simply lay back, with my cigar in my
mouth, with my feet toward the fire, and fell to theorizing
and speculating upon the “case.” The two il‘uppurs,
having far less interest in the matter, smoked, and laughed,
and chatted over old times, recalling the names of many
‘associutes now dead, and recounting many of their own
hair-breadth escapes. We partook of comparatiVely I

'light supper, and remained awake until a late hour in the -

'night. Finally, the two wrapped their blankets around

them and lay down and slept.

, r I remember looking at their two prostrate forms and

taking myself whether they were acting the part of pru-

dence in thus going to sleep at the same time; but reflect-

tng that they knew more regarding the matter than l and,
\

\

 
  
 

   
   

   
  



  

 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
   

, THE PRAIRIE ,rmu. ’ ‘ n

r « my own head gradually drooped, and I joined them in the

land of dreams. .

l was awakened by a touch on the shoulder, and look-
ingup, saw Bufton standing over me, while I caught a
glimpse of \Vadsworth gliding stcalthily off in the dark-
ness.

“Quick! there be Injins in the grove!"

. t I caught my rifle and joined him as we hurried swat.

~ from the smouldering campfire. ~

“Cuss 'em, they‘ve got our animals,” muttered Bufton.
" They might as well—"

With a frenzied exclamation, I saw the trapper grasp
a shadowy form, and the two instantly fell to the ground
in a :loadly embrace. At the same instant I was thrown
violently backward, and ere I could bring my revolvers
into play I was secured in the vice-like grasp of two In-
dians and instantly disarmed. I struggled desperately,
for had I been able to Secure my six-shooters I should
have made short Work with the gentlemen who held me so
rigidly; but it was all useless, and I was speedily com‘
polled to the reluctant conclusion that I, who had so assi-
duously attempted to make a prisoner, was myself a mic.

. oner.

' I still had strong hopes that Burton or Wadsworth ,
would efi‘nct my rescue by making a diversion in my favor
ere} was beyond hope. My rifle, knife and one revolver

g had been taken, but there remained another. which it wan

' \ now my great object to reach. I feigned a hopeless ac-

} quiescmice in my fate, and walked rapidly along under

their persusioa. I ‘

On the outer edge of' the grow: I wrenched my right

' arm from the grasp of the Indian who held it, and the

next moment drew my revolver and cocked it. ‘ I-Ie pro.

bab‘y suspected the danger, for he instantly (lodged, as if V ,.
to avoid the shot, but he was not quick enough to escape
the l udt-n messenger. that laid him dead on the sward.

'l‘ht- utlm s‘uay- drew 'his knife, with the intention of
putting an end In my -.\'-steu:.:u at mute, hut two rapid dilo

gr

 

      
   
   
   
   

 
  
 
 

   
 

 ,‘ ' THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.
I

r‘ charges of the little weapon speedily placed him hm: 1111
combat, and I stood'forth once more a. free man.

' I listened, but :he Sound of conflict had died out. Some
distance away I could hear the [ramp of horses' feet,
which I tool: as evidence that the savages were fleeing
with their booty.

The great point now was to find Bufton and Wads-
worth. I judged they were still in the grove or the neigh-
horhood, as they had no horses, and they could have no
object in leaving after the Indians themselves had gone.

It was hardly Safe to venture to call their names, and I

’ therefore began asearch. The grove, as I have already
said. was comparatively small, and it could take but a short
time to pass from one end to the other.

I moved cautiously, pausing now and then to listen, un-
til I reached the camp-fire; A few embers still remained,
so nearly expired that they afihrded no light at all. A few
feet ,nway I fancied I detected a dark object upon the
ground. Upon approaching closer and examining it, I
found it to be the dead body of an Indian. As this was

e—the spot where I had seen Button close in the deadlylmg
with a savage, there was little doubt but that he had dis-
posed of his opponent and made good his own escape. A.
blanket lay upon the ground, and as there certainly was
_, more prospect of my needing it than him to whom it be-
’ longed, I made no hesitation in appropriating it. _
i Moving on, I soon reached the upper end of the grove,
L Rand here, as Well as the darkness would permit, I looked
around me. There was a partial moon, and I could detect
objects for some distance away. Finally centering my
', r “.20 toward one point, I was sure I saw a couple of per-

.ons standing close together. .While the probabilities were
' diat they Were my friends, yet there was a.) certainty, and

'co=.nnon scnsl- woull teach me to be cautims.

I was still looking toward them, and debating with my

Self the best course to pursue, when I reel-Wed n crashing

. ‘;blow from behind, and was prostrated, senseless, to the
”’ earth.

  
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
  
   
 
  
    

;

 
 
  
 
  

e- A .

 

. .-
4.

x

“ A prisoner among savages! l,

I.

THE’ PRAIRIE mm. 75

CHAPTER XIII. ‘
A DTRANGE MEETING.

a detective, while
"Working up my case." had been captured by a party of
American Indians! Herman II. Herndon might now re-
pose in Security} His pursuer was thrown most effectually
05 his trail.

In the night, I was stricken senseless by a blow from
behind, and upon remwring, found that I was being
placed upon the back of a horse. Four mounted Indians
sat waiting, while two others had dismounted, and mm:
lifting me rather carefully to my seat. ‘ Seeing I was re-
covering, they compelled me to finish the task they had
begun. ’

All seven, myself included, being mounted, the horses
were struck into a sweeping gallop, and, as near as I could
judge, we took a direction due north. I rode between
four of my captors, so that there was little opportunity of
escape, had I purposed such a thing. But the lndians
were all tinned with a. rifle, while I was entirely defence—
less. I fell; for my reVoIVers, but both were gone. and I
should, it' not ()Vcl'lnkctl during the first hundred yards,
haw. been speedily brought to the earth by one of their,
unt-rring rifle shots.

I we'l rerollvet that the thoughts that most occupied
my mind during these fil‘~'| few hours of my captivity \w-re,
how long it would be hel‘ore I should again get on the
track of Mr. llerndou, and what had bt‘t'mtlc ol' Bul'mt an!
Wadsworth. I was lolornbly certain that the two hut}
taken care of themselves, although it was probable that one
or both had been wounded. \

: It may well be said that my own situation should have

pccupied my mind. After awhile it did, exclusiVely.

/

 

   

  
  

, '16 I \ THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

What my captors intended doing with me was s matter

for conjecture; but it was plain they meant either to kill

me, or to hold me as a prisoner—either alternative was ,

serious enough. I stroneg inclined to the belief that I l

’wns to be adopted by the tribe, as -I could see no reason

I / why such pains should have been taken to secure me, when
I could have been so easily slain.

The same rapid gait was continued until daylight. Nr
once was a word exchanged. nor did they seem to glane':
at me. I examined my head, and found that 1 had been
struck a severe blow, although there was no contusion ofi
skin. The effect of the blow was a racking headache,
that nearly set me crazy toward morning.

When we halted. it was in a deep hollow, surrounded
by high rocks, and through which ran a sparkling stream
of icy cold water. Here we dismounted, and prepar.-
tions were made for breakfast. No objection was made to
my bathing my forehead, and moving with considerable
freedom, although more than one pair of dark, gleaming
eyes wore fixed upon myeyery movement. The fact that
they were thus lenient predisposed me to believe tltnt they
did not meditatemy life. Had it been otherwise. a more
jealous watch would have been maintained over my eVet-y
movement.

I recalled the many instances Bnt‘ton had given of per.
sons being held by Indians, and I think ,that he was once 1;
a prisoner himself. From what I had learned regarding
these singular beings, I judged that, when the opportu’ ‘ .
nizy offered, they would take captives—otherwise they to
slay their enemies. As it was morally impossible for then ' y.
to capture the two trappers and myselt‘, they had dom , WA
the next best thing—mptured me, and done their best t' v. f ml
shoot, them. ' w

r A fire was kindled. and a piece of half-cooked, bleeding 
meat—that Ijudgvd to he that of a buffalo—was given me. I km
'By this time I had nearly recovered from the effects of Mo

,2 my blow, and was in better splrits’than one would have 1 1

supposml. ‘3 5m,-
fl‘he Indians had still refrained from addressing me. and

 
   
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
  
   

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THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. 77

paid no heed to the questions that I frequently put to
them; whether this was from a want of knowledge of my
tongue, or whether they adopted the civilized practice of
refusing all Conversation with them, I, of course, had no
means of determining.

The sun was scarce above the horizon when we were
under way again. proceeding at the some regular and rapi l

dltrait until the middle of the afternoon. We passed orter'a
great deal of rolling prairie, and reached about. noon a
large tract of sparSz-ly wooded country. Far away to the
north, I could detect the white, snow—crowned peak of
some monarch. that rose above the regular chain, whose
summits I could occasionally discern. These wore of a
light, hlueish color, and might well be mistaken for some
vast forest.

When we halted, the Indians immediately threw them-
selves from their horses, and stretched upon the ground,
one of their number, as before, taking upon himself the
duty of attending to the preparation of food for the rest.

While thus engaged, I wandered a few yards away and
lay down upon the grass. I still retained my pencil. note-
book, ntoney, watch and valuables about me. In fact, the
Indians had only taken my weapons, leaving the rest of
my possessions intact. For the purpose of whiling away
a half-hour or so, I drew out my note-book, and began ’
transcribing the experiences of the last few days.

It was while I was thus engaged that I was startled by
I light foott‘all behind me, and turning my head, I encoun-
tered a picture that filled me ‘with absolute ainaiementr A
young white woman, beautifully and elegantly dressed.
without a particle of Indian finery around ’her, was walk-
ing slowly toward me, and leading a magnificent black
pony. She smiled as she saw my alarmed look. s ,

“Good Heavens! yonnglady l" I exclaimed. “Do you

I know where you are going? There are Indians out there'
Mount your horse, and flee at once." '

Instead of obeying my frenzied injunction, she merely

smiled and extended her hand. , ,

 

 
   

   

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL; \

‘,“Don’t be alarmed; they are my friends.
not. harm me.”

“Ido notundorstnnd,” I added. as I arme and took
her lmnd. _ “I should my that, you lmlon‘juil to some
e,\_\'p'1rlyof eqnt-slrizms, and had \anldul'cd :uwy hon
thom.” ‘

“u,

.U)

They will

 
   
  
  
  
   
  
     
    
  
    
  
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
   
 
   
  

doubt; you wonll h:lr.lly believe that I had spent.
" ‘ll'S onions: Hum: S:LV.Lj-;us."

in

'31:: 'v

“ i-un mil 1'

I should add, ill-1t dnz'i'ng

«

'1‘ i.‘,'

. I *1,)1"ll{ lhr- lrn‘h

 

xii;  le' I haw- l'r Q‘HinllV visitel the Ernst, and gone as

for no Philu‘h-lphin‘ and New York."

“ Some be:1uLiful young chier
hunched. .

“Indeed I am not," she retorted, with considerable
feeling.

“May I ask if you are a willing resident among these
people? Is your stay voluntary upon your port?”

.‘KI was not. at first, but it is so now."

During the utterance of the inst few words I noticed a 
singular change in her manner. Instead oftho vivacious- '

better half?" I

, “(‘85 that elmrnoierized her in, first, ‘there we: illl nir of the

deepest melancholy. Young and bunufif'nl as she was, it

,Awns certain to me that some great lifiwSm'rnW weighed her

down. Her dream of life had been overclouded at the very

beginning. / - I 1
It was phxin to me timt she was n. person of considerable ' ‘

influence .nm/ong the Indians, for when one of them up-

pronohed to where we were conversing, us if to interrupt 1

us, she authoritiiively wevtad him back, and he obeyed ' /

without the lenst demur. l w
If my renderhns any inclination to become romantic. he _  ’ m

is requested, at this point, to benr in mind our respective ‘ ;'

shimtions in life. She was young and handsome, and he- 1

yond question, lh’ere was a delightful mystery about her; i

but, myseff.’ very nearly any years of age, homely. nnd :1

married man, with children, Although compelled by MW my,

businees to spend a grent dual of my time Away fronn 

'bor’ne, I'can say with truth that. than are raw mow duv

  

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nor 3
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a THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. 79

voted husbands than myself. Consequently. it must be
understood that, it" I am compelled to refer . to any
romantie passion, it can have no possible relation to
myself

I experienced a natural curiosity in the lady before me.
From her physiognomy, I judged her to be 11 womnn of iua
telligence and refinement, nu-l the wonder was therefore
greater that she should spend her life among these North
American savages.

Still I had no right to be impertinont.

“You, I suppose, are not a willing companion of these
red men?" she asked, with a. smile and an attempt to re-
turn to her first buoyancy.

“They are the lust I should ever select for' their Society.
I neVer had much admiration of them, and would always
prefer that they should keep their distance.”

“You wish to leave them '1’" she asked, lowering her
Voice.

“I do."

“You will have to remain some time with them; but,
if God wills, I will help you away."

I bowed my sincere thanks.

“I will trust you; there is great need of. my being in
California at once; and be assured that what assistance
you are pleased to give will be gratefully remembered
through life.“

“I have helped others before.” ‘

“ Do you incur no risk in doing it ?”

“Not much; none of them would harm rne, as I um '-
vfionmn; and I have endeavored to teach them the priuci
p109 of our blessed Savior’s religion.”

I looked at her with greater respect than ever.

“You belong to the family of a missionary, then’i"

She again smiled.

“There is no one living that I could claim as a part oi
my, own family. I have toiled for a few years among
these poor people, but it has been alone."

“And do you expec‘ to remain and die here?"

\l

 

' . \
THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

Again that sad, uiistressf'ul look clouded her face not! I
SAW my grievous fil'l‘Ol'w

"I crave forgiveness fonpaining you. As I am totally
unncquninted with any of the particulars of your life, I
cannot be too careful of what I say."-

Slw remained with her head bowed for a few moments,
and then looked up.

, “ Perhaps it is well that we end our conversation. They
are observing us. Before doing so, will you give me your
hmne?"

“Ain't-1m Pelham.”

“And mine is Eurena Durnnne."

Smnewhcre, years before, I had heard that name. I re-
pented it over and over. I was sure of it, but where or
when it was impossible to tell. At length it struck me
that it was in the city of New York, but beyond that I was
lost. I lay aWnke until midnight, trying to trace back
the shadowy thread; but at a. certain point it was broken,
and no efi‘ort of Memory could weave the severed Ikeinl
together again.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
FREE AGAIN. -

. As I sit to-day and look back over my long and event-
ful life, I cannot help reverting to the strangest experience
of all—my- following the trail of Herman H. Hcrndon
news: the prairies, my captivity, the clearing up of the
mystery of Euienn Dnrmme, and the wonderful web of

circumstances intowhich they and myself become woven, '

befirre all was made clear.

I was a captive among the Crow Indians exactly fifty
(lays. I never once lost my reckoning, and um therefore
certain of the precise time; During this period I was

[rented with comparalive kindness; and when I finnllyA

turned my back upon the tribe, among whom I had re.

1

  

 
   

'42!
In“
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H “y ......u..\.x_

p
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THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

maimed so long. I cherished no ill-feeling toward a. single
member.

Eurena Duranne was the daughter of a missionary who
had been killud some yr-ars before, and from this probably
llt'l‘lVL‘d the great influence she exerted ovter tho sawtzes.
Those with whom she lived bolongcd to the Crow tribe;
tin-r numbered something' over three hundred, and wore a
“split” from the original tribe, which number was in the
neighborhood of Four thousand. Among this smaller com-
munity were about eighty warriors and old men, fully oun-
halt‘ of whom were Christians. As a certain result, their
influence over the others was great in a moral point of
view. They went on their warlike excursions, but they
never scalped nor tortured their prisoners. and conducted
their warfare in n more civilized manner than those of
their race gererally did.

Enrc—na Duranne passed like a ministering angel among
those rude sons of the wood. She was at home in their
lodges and was treated with respect and veneratiou by
all. Some years before, an Indian who had used rude-
ness toward her was shot dead. Her prom-pt and ex:nn-
ple did incalculahle good in quelling their vices and p-ts-
sions, and in keeping them in the path laid out by the
great Friend of all men. .

Upon coming among the tribe, I was conducted to
lodge where dwelt an old Woman and her two sons, both

81

- as splendid specimens, physically, of men that I ever saw.

A close surveillance was kept over my actions, and I was
not allowad to pass beyond the limits of the villaueu I
was furnished regularly with good and sufficient food, and
none of my property was taken from me. I was disap.
pointed and somewhat nggrivad that Miss Duranno did
not call upon me more frequently. She visited me the

first day, and told me to he hopi-t‘ul, as the dsy of deliver-
ance was probably close at hand. '
Respected and feared as Sllt' was, I hrlieved she might
have secured my release at any timt', (although perhaps I
had no right to ask her to \w-akvn her influence hy so do-'
appotr ed on

lug.) or she might have c .l‘. it 0‘! me, and

  

   

 
 
   
    
  
    
  
 
    
  
 
    
    
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 

32"  I.

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

more friendly terms. I saw her nearly every day, but at.

changed words with her on only two occasions during the '
On the second week it was ahont the same,

first week.
and when, the third week, I came to the conclusion tlmt,
if‘I'di‘emed my esr-nm at all, it must be, under Heaven,
through my own exertions.

The most of my time was spent in formingr plans for es-
l‘spe. Th 're were many times when I Could have made
my Way out of the village, but as I had no horse i should

hnve been immediately tracked and overtaken, or, even if;

[succeeded in eluding my enemies, I should have been
helpless upon the great prairies.

I was lying in my lodge late one night, trying in vniu to
court sleep. I was in the back part, while the old wo-
man nnd her .wo sons were between me and the door.

' The night was oppressively warm, and from where I lay I

could look out the door and see the blue sky beyond. '

I hurl been in this peculiar, restless condition some
time, when a. figure appeared without the leist noise at
the ,opening, and remaining stationary for a. moment,
passed away like :1 shadow. The glimpse th it I had had
:onvinced me that it was Eurena Duranne. and I believed
.t’wns I that she wished 'oseo. I instantly arose and com-
menced making my Way cautiously toward the door. In

7 , doing so [I nronsed the old woman, who was considerably
I made a trifling excuse, and, after muttering

startled.
something to herself, she allowed me to pass out.

On the outside, of the lodge I looked around, but failed
to see any one. ' I gave it. low cough to attract attention.
Almost immediately Miss Durnnne appeared at my side.
With acautious “shi” she signified me to follow her,
sud I did so until we were outside the village.

_“No doubt you have been offended at my remaining away
lsolong; but it was for the best. There is no suspicion,
and you are‘ now free to leave this place. I have provided
a horse, and I can only tell you to make ‘nll speed with
him, as you will be pursued. Take a southerly direction,
end God's blessing go with you.”

"But, Miss Durauun." said I, taking her hand, “how

  

2-,“.

can I ever thunk you for this kindness? I cannot; you
can ppprecinte my gratitude. But I would know more re-
garding you bufm‘ull go. Hch you no desire to leave
this place? It‘ you huve no friends or acqzinininnoea,

return to my home, nud become a member of my \

family."
“ It cannot be.
here." V ‘,

“This is a love affair." said I, deeming it best to prob"

the wound to the bottom at once. “I ask nothing thn‘i ‘
you do not choose to give, but I have a. feeling that, in‘
smne way or other, I mny be of benefit to you."

She remained silent a. moment. and then answerer]:

“It cnnnot be; you can afford me no help“ I look
above for help."

“Are you certain I can be of no use to you ?" v

“Yes,” she replied, again hesitating. “Let us say no «
more.” ‘

Some singular impulse, for which I cannot account,
prompted me to mention the name of Herndon to her.
Several times it was on my tongue, but I refrained.

"‘I must, then, hid you good-bye," said I, “ and in do-
ing 50, I do not experiencu the sadness that I expected. I.
think it must be because I feel we shall soon meet
again."

“I trust we shall. You are now about to enter upon a
dnngrrous undertaking. There is One who can shield and .-
protect you, nnd, Mr. Pelhsm, do not—oh! ’do not forget "
to' call on Him, whether in the hour of need or when all
goes well with you." ,

She turned and walked toward the village. I watched
her form until it blended with the darkness and dilzip
pcm‘ed.

Sensible now that the time for action had arrived, I imo
medintcly mounted 'my horse and began picking my way,
through the wood and undergrowth. It was impossible 3
to proceed at a faster gait than n walk,,,ond I could not ‘ ‘
avoid a feeling of impatience at the tardiness with which I .»
progressed. In the source of an hour or two I struck into.

I have friends, but I prefer to remain

' THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. st ‘

 

  
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  

   

\

tail: of encountering some emigrant train.

' ‘ (the bursting at the storm.

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.
I: sort of 'open rolling prairie, and immediately put my
horse into a rapid cnuter.

It was while riding along in this manner that I suddenly
reincd up my horse with a feeling of dismay. I lmd just
become conscious that I had not a single firearm in my
possession. I hurriedly examined the articles which the
foresight of Miss Dnrnune had placed upon the horse.

,‘There was food and a blanket. but not even a knife. ‘

This was rather discouraging, it is true; but as I WM

’ provided with food, and had a good, swift horse Under me,

Iconcluded to keep it southerly direction until I should
strike the Oregon Trail, where I was tolerably cer-
I kept up the
gallop of my horse until broad daylight, when he l‘orded a
rapid stream of considerable size, upon the banks of which
I allowed him to‘ graze for an hour, while I made my
mor ing meal. I

’ljl’ie haunting fear of pursuit made me somewhat more

severe with my horse than I should have been. But he

'was a noble animal, and when nslride of him there was 11
' most comfortable feeling of security.

We look little rest during the day. Sometimes when I
reached an eminence I spent a few moments in looking
back, but on no occasion did I catch sight of nnything
that looked like pursuers. At noon I discerned at :1 con-

, Iiderable distance a party of horsemen, who, I was pretty

certain, were Indians, and I therefore gave them a wide

berth. '

‘_'l‘he day was quite sultry, and early in the afternoon I
aw that a severe storm was gathering. The sky rapidly

,becnme overcast with dark, sulphnrous clouds, and the

ominous booming of thunder in the distance, and the
tremulous tongues of lightning that qnivered in and out

’ among the piles of cloud, warned me to lose little time

in seeking shelter. Still I pressed on, unwilling to pause
before it was necessary.“ When the large drops began to
patter upon the ground I turned into a grove of trees, and
securing iny horse to in limb, I dismounted, snd awaited

 
 

«F s4..-r..__ T d.“

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i
i
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OI ,

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

For two hours the rain poured down, the lightning
flushed, and the thunder raged like the fire of a thousand
batteries. The darkness rapidly increased, and when the
the storm began to abate night was fairly upon me. I had
wrapped my blanket around me, and unden the thick
branches had escaped with‘scarcely any moisture. Know-
lug that I should have to make a night of it, I sit down
at the trunk of the tree with the intention of sleeping
until morning. I might have secured, perhaps, enough oi.
dry fuel to have kindled a fire, but I had learned too wow
the danger of doing that in this part of the country.

“There is one who can shield and protect you, and do
not forget to call on Him." These parting words of Miss
Duranne lingered constantly, and scented to give a sort of
restlessness that prevented sleep. When I had earnestly
bt-sought the protection of that great One, slutnher visited "
my eyelids, and I became unconscious. .

' How surpassineg sweet the sleep or him who “ wraps ’
the drapery of his couch around him." and lies down with
the consciousness that between hitn and his Maker all is
well. How hlissi‘ul the retrospect whose sunlight is not
overshadowed by darkness! Though the humblest of
mortals. our communion with God may be as close as the
most gifted of his servants. The slave, toiling in his ‘
bonds; the prisoner, famishiug in irons; the mariner,‘
drifting helpless in mid ocean; the wanderer in the desert
and trackless woods; the soldier breathing his last amid
the wreck of battle; the beggar in his rags; the repenant
criminal. the barbarian groping for light, lisping infancy,
vigorous manhood, palsied age;--nil, all creatures, have
they not thine ear, 0 Father, and can any of their prayers
ascend to thee in vain? ‘

Ah, no; thy loving arms enfoch us all, and only in
thee can we rest secure. Then may thy smite rest upon
us all, whether awaking, or in the sleep of nature, or the
lust’long sleep whose awakening is incternity.

’l‘he neighing and stamping of my horse aroused me.
Recallingmy situation. I sat. perfectly still and listened. ,I
l"0pused some wild animal Was in the grove, and from

 

  

 
 
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
     
      
  
   
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
       

’ t “You done that long ago.

\ it was Yoxky."

. ' I“,

u ‘ THE PRAIRIE 'rmur. ,

\
the tn gging of my horse, I expected it to break loose each
moment. I was debating with myself the propriety 0‘
acendingtlle tree behind me| When a flash oflightning '11--

‘ laminated the grove, and I saw, not a dozen feet distant,

the form ofa man, standing still, with a rifle slung ova
his shoulder, and in the attitude of atleniion.
Knowing'tlmt I must have been revealed, I stepped he-
lilnd the tree. At the same moment a familiar voice ex-
claimed : h
“ If that ain’t Yorky, then my name isn't Tim
Bufton l"

 

CHAPTER XV.
wmou 13 run LAST.

“Where is Wadsworth?” was the first question I
asked after saluting my friend.

“ Bill got thrmed—he‘s gone under."
1 “ \Vhen? Not on the night I was captured 7"

“Yes; I found him laid out cold and stiff next morn-

' ‘ing. I knowed it was all up with him afore the scrim-

mage was over."

 “I rather expected you would follow me."

‘ “Ef Bill hnin‘t got wiped it we’d done it. But I was
sartin if you hadn‘t had your ha'r raised already, you war
just as well off as you could be. S'pose you’re on your

1’ way to Culii‘orny i"

“'Yes; I must press forward without delay. I can an-
gsge you to accompany me, can I not i"

In course I goes."

“I am really glad to come across you. I haven’t so
much as a gun or knife with me. How is it that I fill
you in this particular section ?”

' “I started for Fort Riley, and war Well on my m5;
when I changed my mind and turned ’rmin-l to conn- al‘lwr
you. I seed you come into the grove, but I didn't [mm

M.

  

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. "

All this “menu: had been Seated in intense darkness;
and as the lightning had entirely subsided. did not so
much as obtain a glimpse of one unothor’s‘fnoes. The
Wet condition of the grove preVonted our starting it fire,
had not my previous experience determined me against:
such proceedings. We conversed together for u long time,
and then. as the night. advanced, gathered our blankets
around us and slept.

When morning dMVned, the storm had entirely sub.
aided, the sun was out, and everything looked cheerful
and prosperous. I still had a considerable quantity of the
fund that my romantic friend had provided for me, and on
this we made a good morning men]. Then mounting our
animals, we rode out. of the grove on a sweeping gallop,
taking a southern direction, as before.

I mentioned to Bufton my fears of pursuit, and he added
there was little doubt of my being follHWetl. Near noon,
we rode to the top of quite an eminence. and looked back.
I gazed long and sem'chingly. but could descry nothing,

until the trapper directed me toward the very grove from'

which we had emerged snme hours before. Here, by
010se attention, I made out. a number of moving specks,
just on the edge ofgtltc timber.
“Them’s yer friends,” said he;
takin’ a look at. your tracks.”
“How fur will they follow us i” «
“Not much further. We’re gettin’ too near the am.

“Jes’ now they’re

grunts fur them to think there's much chnnce of catchin"

you. They’ll keep along to-day, and the best thing we
can do is to make some tall trawling."

Unquestionebly this was good udvice, and we acted
upon it. Not until blank darkness did we drnw rein, und
then we led our fomning steeds in n grove similar to that
in which we had spent the previous night.

The next day we struck the great Overland Trail to
Czilifiirniti and Oregon.
breadth, numbers of the emigrant parties belt): for out. of

sight of each other, when they are precisely the same dis. 1
tunes from their rlestiruion. At night we saw the glint

Of course this is many miles in "

      
   
     
         
     
    
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

788 THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

mer of three camp-fires. and on the next day jlscerned
the long trains of covered wagons winding around some
rocky declivily, or creeping slowly along over the mono-
tonous prairie Patient indeed must be those travelers,
plodding along at that snail‘s pace. '

1 Our course now changed more toward the east, and I
experienced the satisfaction of knowing that I was mak-
lne; good progress toward California. We had no diffi«
culty in supplying our physical wants. The trapper-‘3
rifle was as unfailing us was the renowned Kit Carson's
when hunter at Bent‘s Fort. Both our horses Were [)0va
animals, and we made good progress. Bufton’s Wat
someth smaller than mine. but he possessed an astonisip
ing speed and bottom, and, I think, when fairly tested,
would have endured more than my own.

We were now in in neighborhood where we constantly
encountered emigrant trains. We sometimes pnssed five
or six in the course of a day. The plnins seemed literally
alive with them. Nearly all with whom we stopped to
converse complained of the aggressions of the Indians,
and warned us against proceeding alone. Button did not
fear to disregard their warnings, we camping alone as fre-
quently as we did, with any of these parties.

My captivity among the Indians had been of uch dura-
tion that Iliad very little if any hope of taking up the
v trail of llerndon before reaching California. Occasionnlly
I-malle inquiries, hut gained not. a particle of information.

Just as, we approached the first hills of the Rocky
Mountains, at the point where the pass enters them, two
mounted hunters issued forth, and instantly recognize-45¢
Bufton. They drew him off one side, and for » half ho 9'
cmmrrsed in a very earnest mnnuer. They seemed to he ,
urging him to do something, while he hesitated about
' complying. Finally he acquiesced and came back to me.

“Yorky,” said he, “if it. be possible, I've got to he
in St. Louey inside ot‘two weeks” or there'll be the biggest
kind of a row. In course, it' you ain't willin‘, Iwon't
desert you; but I's g9in_' to say there's a company en-
osmpsd about a mile up the pass, and they're bound to San

./

    

    

  
  
   

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

Anr ..

    

89

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. ’

Francisco. If you could make arrangements to go with
them, why, I'd be suited—and—I wouldn't ax you for
any My ” r

“This takes me very much by surprise, and before eon-
senting to any such arrangement. you must. take me to
where this party is, that. I may see how I like their,

' looks."

“That's right, and bear in mind, Yorky, I doesn't ax
yer to do it if you feel agin it—jnst remember that."

The two hunters, instead of accompanying us, promim-d
to await, Bufton’s return, and we rode away. As air-3
nounced, We came upon a party of a dozen, seated around
a fire, cooking, eating, smoking and enjoying themselves as
best they could. V

While yet a hundred yards distant, I heard my name
called out, and immediately a young man, an old acquaint-
ance of mine, stopped forth and greeted me. I was quite
pleased with this, and additionally so to find several other
friends among the adventurers. They had/left home since
I had, and the one referred to brought me news of my
family. This was very gratifying, and I willineg released
Button from my engagement. 1 took him aside, paid him
the full one thousand d--llnrs that had been agreed upon—-
he sturdin refusing at first, but finally yielding—and bid
him good-hye.

“I hain’t knowed yer a long time, Yorky," said he,’
with considerable feeling. “but I’ve knowed yer‘long
’nough to take a powerful leanin' toward yer, and you've
Walked tall into my fut-lins—J’

lle pauSed abruptly and took my hand—a cordial grasp
and he mounted his horse and rode away. I watched him
until he disappeared behind a mass of everhanging rocks,
and then turned away. Ihave newr seen or heard 0!
Tim Bnt‘ton since. .

I was reached very cordially by the party of young
men. They knew I was not searching for gold—that is,
directly—but. was led to this place We. far difl‘erent object '
than themselves. Still they forbore questioning me, pro-

 

 

' THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.
bably knowing that it would have gained them no inform.
atiou.

It was growing dark, and it was decided to enmmp in
our present quarters for the night. The men had gained
enough experience to learn the necessity oi‘ vigilant sen-
tinels, and they stationed five in as many different quar-
ters, while the rest of us lay down to slumber. The
night passed away without disturbmce.

Cheery and hopeful, we set out as soon as day broke,
‘ 'and comtnenced pressing our way through that vast wall
that separates California from her sister States. It was
toilsome and sometimes disheartening, but the air was
pure and bracing, and we scarcely ever faltered. We httd
sevvrnl shots fired at us from rocks so far above our heads
that We barely heard the reports. Sometimes we would
7 see a puff, then hear a sound like that oh. distant driver's
whip, and then the bullet would fall with a (lull thud be
side us, and could be picked up, only slightly fltllened.

We all had great hopes of meeting a grizzly bear, but
we were not gratified. One of my friends was sure he
saw one several hundred feet above us; but, afier dis-

' * charging his rifle a dozen times or so without producing
any sensible effect, he came to the conclusion that. it was /

an inanimate object, and gave over the hope of being,r tho
' first to “bag” one of these colossal kings of the western
wilds.

Again and again we were in the regions of blinding
sleet and snow, but we were well provided against all con-
tingt-ncies, and I do not think that any of the party ever

wfrlt for a; moment that we wore in danger. It is true we
frequently talked of Colonel Fremont’s disastrous expedi-
tion; but we reflected that, unlike them, we had the
bt'Sli season of the year, and unlike them also, (and it was
just tlntt that made all the dilference in the wotld,) there
was no fear of our losing the. way. Finally, the great
- wall of mountains was settled, and the journey proper Was
finished.‘
I had decided to go to San Francisco, knowing there
would be letters awaiting me from home. as I had giVen

A“, (“w Awmsw

   

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

 
    

THE PRAIRIE ,TR'AIL or
directions for the forwarding ofdrafts to me. and also for ‘ ‘
the reason that this would be the proper point to regain
tlw trail of lIt'l'llthl). As my companions had also con.
chrlml to procure their supplies and outfit at this place,
We made the journey together; and on a fine day in lab-
Zer summer we enlered the city of the Golden Gate.

My first proceeding was to go the post-office, and hero
[fulllltl tWU lrtters awaiting me. One of these was a
plump, jovial looking missivc, bearing the pleasnnt hand.
writing of my wife, and containing n draft from Mr. 3011- 4
field. As I opened it, sevcrnl others fell out, nnd as l

, piikcd them up I recognized the handiwork of my young-
est children. I looked nt them enough to see that ail
Were well, and everything was right at home, and then
placed them away to enjoy fully at my leisure. The sec-
ond envelope I saw was directed by Mr. Bonfleld, the
bank P resident. I opened it and read :

NEW YORK, June 20th, 18—.

M! a. '; ?.u"\M - Yesterday, fifty-eight thousand

l four hundred and eighty dollars, being the exact amount

’ extracted from our vaults some months since, reached me

' 1' by express. Accompanying it was an anonymous note,

in which the writer said he was only performing a duty,

and that he trusted that now, as full reparation was made,

all attempts to hunt him Would be given over. There is

another mystery in the matter which puzzles me pnint'ully.

I await your return to communicate my suspicion. If

you can gain tidings oi‘ Herndon, do So; see him, if pos-

Bible, and converse with him face to face, but do not arrest
,him I"

i r

As I folded up the letter, I was provoked to think that:
Bonfleld had not forwarded the note to me. While ]
streneg believed that Herndon was the writer, this hit of
handwriting would have settled it beyond all question.
“ A matter of conscience," I concluded, as 1 left the oflce,
and made my way to the hotel. ' '

As won as I was thoroughly refreshoj from the fatigue

 

     

/

 

' of my identity.

TEE PRAIRIE TRAIL. ‘

t .
and suffering that Ihad undergone during the last few
months, I began instituting inquiries regln'ding IIcrntlon.
TheseI made with great caution, and for a long time
without suem-ss. Finally. in a Ino-t unexpected manner,
[gained a slight clue, and leaving San Francisco, I jour-
neyed toward Lower California. in the direction of a small
town that had been settled a great. number of years, and
contained several hundred of the descendants of the au-
cient founders, and a great numher of new comers.

I renohed the town on Saturday night, and at once en-
gaged quarters at a sort of firm-rate hotel, undoubtedly
lhehestin the place. It was crowded with drunken,
fighting, uproarious miners, Mexican and half~breeds,
whom I aVoided as much as possible, and went to my
room. Here I thoroughly secured myself, and at onCe fell
asleep. ‘ "'2' '1

When I awoke, I was considerably surprised to hear
the mellow tones of a church bell. B-fore entering the
town, I had so thoroughly disguised myself that I daubt
whether tny wife would have recognized me h-ui she met
me face to face. After partaking of a morning meal that.

, consisted entirely of fruit, I sauntered forth through the

queer, ancient town; Unconscioust my steps led me in
the direction of the church, and finding myself near the
door, I entered.

I had supposed, as a matter of course, that it was Roi
\mnn Catholic, but found at onceI was mistaken. Taking
a seat near the door, I raised my eyes to the preacher.
The man occupying that pulpit, and engaged at that mo-
ment in preaching. was Herman H. Herudon.

There was the same fascinating coutiteuatme, the squat
shoulders, the flue Roman nose, the dark, curling hair,
and ruddy, clean-shaven face, and the large, lustrous, ex-
pressive eyes. I fixed my gaze upon him, and saw that
he glanced at me several times, but he had no suspicion
I listened to his sermon, (which, beyond
question was an excellent one,) and when the congrega-
tion was dismissed. I wandered carelessly out. of doors,

 

  

'I
l
t
l
t

i
l 1
t

  

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL. ' 93

hoping my eyes fixed upon him, until I saw him enter o
Spanish-looking residence near the edge of the town.

A half hour lntor I stopped upon Ih” low covered porch
null knocked. 'l‘he summons was answered by a girl thot
Itm'ml woutlcrinn‘ly at. me.

’ Does tlu- pastor of the church reside here l'"

“BllSC'l V. nllzunn cosn ?" (Do you ask for nnything') '

“The pastor."

“Esta V. hnscnndo algo ?” (Whom are you looking
for l)

I now changed to broken Spanish. nnd after it few
words of pnt'leyiug’, she admitted me to a side-room. and
deported to bring the man whom I was sacking. I was
engngorl in viewing some beautiful pictures, when I was
smrilvd by a footstep, nnd turning around, I saw Mr.
Ilermlnu. He still looked upon me as an entire stronger,
own after I had spoke.

“This is Mr. Horndon, I buliovo?"

“The name that I am known by; I am glad to 'meet
you. I think I observed you at church," he responded,
grasping my hand most cordially. '

“Pray be sr-nted," he mlded. “I take you to be an
American, and I am rejoiced to meet' you."

“Mr. l-Ierndon, I have somvthing important to say to
you. Can no ears overhcnr us ?"

Hv looked sharply at me a. moment, and then said:

“Pvrhaps you had better come to my room.”

I followed him to-an upper apartment, handsomely fur-
nishcd, when, after seating me, he placed himself in on at»
titude of attention.

“Now, my dear sir, I am rendy." .

I leaned forward and spoke in a low voice.

“I beg you not to stnrt, as I intend no harm, but I have
followed you step hy step from the city of New York to
this out-of-the-wny place." ‘

“For what 7" '

“For helping Evan Grimke to rob the Wnlsing Bank,
New York." ’

In all my experience with crime and crlmlnnlr, I never

 

        
 

/

\

94 THE PRAIRIE] TRAIL,

saw a man so overcome as was Herman Hernrion at this
announcement He turned as pale as death, and only hy
the strongest. mental effort saved himself from fainting: ont~
right. He appeared for a moment as it' swallowing some-
thing that kept rising in his throat, and finally filtered
out :

“But. that has been made right."

"I know it; the whole amount of money has been rc-_

coived by Mr. Bonfleld, and iherei‘ore I shall not arrest
‘ you."
- He was vastly relievrarl at this announcement. and
seemed much more cheerful. Afier a moment’s pause, he
said: ,

“I did not commit that. robbery Mr. Pelham."

“ You assisted, however. Mr. II"I'mlOll, I give you my

; word of honor that I shall not disturb you. I leave this

place to-morrow, and you can go or remain as you
choose; but, in return for the leniency I show you. I
ask a full and complete statement of your part in this bu‘
siness."

He looked up in my face with a smile.

“Don’t you remember George Bonfield ?"

“I remember that the Walsing B-mk President had

- such a son; but I have not seen him for nearly seven

years."

“I am that son."

“Indeed; you have not displayed much filial affection
by your conduct during that time.”

“I have done wrong, I admit, but hear my explana-

v' 7 tion."

I signified thaLI was ready, and he proceeded:
. “ You never saw much of me.‘ but. I knew you, and had
it not been for tllnt. curious disguise, I should have recog-
nized you to-dny in church. It will be ten years this :Ill-
tumn that I was sent to college. I ronmined until I am-
duuted, intending to enter the ministry. I was so ful' :1'-
Vnnced that it required but a short line for me to p .ss
1 through college, and I immediately entered a theolog‘ivui
seminary. I staid there until I ha-l finislle l, ml the:

  
 
       
   
   
   
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
    
   
   

£54~u__

Vi

1.

std
(V-
-,

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__ . _.___ _ e,t..._~. -'A

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

made a visit to a class-mute in St. Louis. While there I
made the :thunlnlnnce of an old mission-try to the In-,
dians‘, and his daughter. I never was so charmed and de-
li html with a woman in my life. In short. I was dunno.
I sought her society continually, and I
vI-tl she returned in some degree mv admiration; hut
2m w- 3 lm) trnu nml sensible a lady to show any 81120?-

(11' nnmai-ienly haste. My profession was a good re-‘
w : amxntation to the old mtssinnary, and we became warm

TH' l'ly l'l ln\'('.

. .
:‘wlg

--, . ‘
u.‘ it ~_

“ The two remained for a couple of months in St.
Lilli-s, and when the father departed he left his daugh-
:er at school, where she had already spent a. couple of
years," ‘

“His name, if you please." “

“Dnranne; hers was Eurena. Why do you ask 1"

“ I have heard it before. Years ago it was mentioned
in your family. Go on."

“Finally I gained her love, and Went East to obtain the
consent of my parents to the union. To my mmzelllenl.
father opposed it most determinodly. Hr- would not hear
or my becoming married until I was fully settled, and
lhvn I was to take a civt't’z'zed p:-rson, as he expressed it.
I reasoned, but he was inexorable and considerably em- ,
biltel'ed. I returned to St. Louis, determined, if she was;
Willing» to marry her at all events. But she was gone;
for some reason or other her father had returned during
my absence and taken her away.

“Ashe was stationed a long distance in the North-
West, and there were thousands of hostile savages inter-v
vening, I hardly. dared to follow. I joined 1‘ DW‘Y ‘7; I
hunters, however. with the hope of meeting or getting
trace of her. These men, when fairly up among the
mountains, were taken with the gold fever, and Started for
0" ifornia. Ijoined them and went to the mines. Every
one of us had ex\raordinary good fortune. In less than
two weeks I had amassed a hundred thousand dollars, and
_ many of the hunters were still r cln-r than myself. All
 this time I passed under the fluidity “(111011 you “4'99” '

‘t

 

 
   

     

THE PRAIRIE TRAIL.

—’ me. Feeling satisfied with my wealth. I left the mines,
" ‘ went to San Francisco, and deposited it all with some
bankers that had just organized.

“Drifting aimlessly about. I finally made my way to this
town. where. feeling .’nlly ashamed of the part I had acted
in the past, Idetern-inerd to go to work in earnest. There
are many Roman Catholics here, but there are also a num-
ber of Protestantsand I took charge of this church; which
has been vacant for a number of years. This has been my
charge ever since."

" But your visit to New York ?"

“ All this time I have not been able to forget Miss Dnranne
-—I still hold the belief that i shall meet her. So strong
was this faith that I went to St. Louis last winter thinking
it very likely that I should learn something regarding- her.
I heard nothing. and passed on to New York. intending to
call on "my parents and spend several months with them.

“ I reached the city early in the evening, and was walk-
ing rapidly homeward, when, as I turned a corner, I was

" addressed by a rough-looking individual, who beckoned for ;
me to follow him a short distance down a byrstreef. l hesi- [ h
l

    
       
   
   
   
         
     
       
     
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
    

tated at first, but he was so persistent that l obeyed. Ila , H
lured me on until I entered a low, forbidding-looking house, ‘ SI
when the door was instantly closed, and I was made a pris- m

.\ oner. This man knew me as Mr. Bonfield’s son. He had F
I probably known’ me years before and recognized me as I m
1’ was passing. He had learned, too, by some means or other. n"
of the estrangement between myself and parents. and it w “H
was this upon which he attempted to work. hi"

“ To be short. he revealed a plan for breaking into the ; “m
shank that night, holding out strong inducements for me in  my
join him. He used every persuasion at his command, all of ,‘ Wm
which. of course. I rejected with the greatest scorn. Leav-  ,

tug me still a. prisoner, he went out, and was gone a long ‘ ,l
time. ‘ When he returned he. had a companion with him. f a m

/ “It was now late at night. and i went fortl between ‘ ham
them. One of them held a loaded pistol. which, I have no ‘ I

/ r doubt, he would have fired hadl made the least outcry. you"

   

t i The night was stormy, and they took me in such a circuit-

  

Wul I

 
  
 

 

m. 
'tt) i
l "I $

ne-

veen i
re no ‘
tcry.
:cuit-

on g 

TII‘E PRAIRIE TRAIL 9?

nos direction that we did not encounters single person. I
was forced into a building adjoining the bank.ywhere l was
Compelled to descend into a tunnel, the other following,
and the remaining one, I suppose. standing guard outside.

“I have been a prisoner among Indians. but I was never
held so closely as I was upon that night There was not the
least chance of escape.

“ When we emerged into the hank. I found that the sat"
had been already hurst open. The man eommnndcd me?
lmnd him some of the money. I told him I would be killet'
before I would touch it. Thereupon he picked it up and
announced the exact. amount that he had prepared tncarry
away. The whole proceeding—this arranging everything
and then returning with inc—showed that a trap was laid
for me, although why this should he done. it is impossible
for me to conceive.”

“The man perhaps bore on old grudge nguinst you.”

“Very likely; but while matters were in this shape,
you hurst into the room. and nearly frightened to death, I
serumhled down the tunm-l, :ml out into the open air.
leaving the spot as rapidly as pmsilile. I was so nlnrmed
that I left for the West fit Ghee. The Web by which I was
surrounded, I felt would not permit of explanation or es-
enpe, and I therefore hurried nwny. Upon ranching Sun
Francisco, I sent father the exact amount, stating that the
humor would be explained in time.
name of the mun who decoycd me aside that night, al~
though I had given the one of Herman H. IIerndon to
him.
time, and I therefore dare not testify against him. I made
my way back to this spot, where I've just got fairly b
Work again." "

“Do you intend to remain here {or life 7"

t‘ I cannot. say; I meant to write to father, giving him
a full explanation. and asking his permission to return
home again "

I sat in thought for a few moments. and then gave
young Bonfield the part I had taken in the business. II”
Was greatly excited when he learned definite tidings at,

I never heard the _.

His testimony would have condemned me st any '

 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
    
  
 
 
   

 
     
   

 
  
 

THE PR A lRIE TRAIL.

Ear-na/Dnranne, and begged me to accompany him at
mice on a visit to her. I advised him to go to San Fran-
eisuo with me, where the mailer could be arrangml
Leaving a i‘arewoll for his people, he did so, when we
(it-parted the next morning, and reached the city in due
time.
In San Francisco We engaged a party of hunters, an]
hutcd at once for the solitude where I had left my kind
end. 1 need not dwell upon the particulars of the j .ur-
ny. It was winter win-n we reached the place, and \w.
’ had great difllrully in securing an audience with her; but
we succeeded at last, and she and Boufiuhl met face to fare.
An explanation was made, and we all started Ernst. In
St. Louis the two wore married, and the son sent home a
cdmplete history of his life for the past five or six years,

  
       
      
   
   
       
    
   
    
     
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 

and announced that he and his wife would soon be at ‘ a
home. . g
The‘ hunters broke upin St. Louis, and I hurried home- 

, ward, leaving my young friends to make the journey at

I ' their leisure. On renching New York, I made inquiries ,' i
for Mr. Evan Grimke, but he had fled—gone to Europe, I
think, as I have never seen lnm since. 'I found Mr. and
Mrs. Bonfield anxious enough to see their children, and
when they finally arrived, thrirjoy cannot be described,
while I felt a serene satisfaction in contemplating the part
I had taken in unravelling this strange web of fate.

, " ‘ Strange, indeed, are the workings of Providence.
Tangled though the web of our existence may lie—dart:
the sky overhead—bitter the temptations that assail us—
though our path seemingly may be lost in the labyrinths

" tt' doubt;—yet the night has its dawning, the sky its
. .leaiing, the shield of Right and Duty is inmuuetrnhie,
‘ and He who watches the fall of the _sparrow. and takes
note of our deeds and thoughts, who docth all things Well,
rwdl lead us, if we but permit, within his told, to go out. no
more forever!

 
   
   
 

 

 
       
   
     
 

THE END.

  

 

.MA

STAN

DIME DIALOGUE

DARD

S

For School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments.

Noe. l to“ ineiuelve.

ll MES Popninr Diniopuee end Drnmne ln ench book.

zme volume I“

limo pn‘el, eent poet-peid, on receipt of price, ten cente.
Beadle & Adams, Publishers, 98 William St" N. Y.

Thou volumee heva been repered with eeperinl reference to their nrnilehiii', fur Exhibitin
f y ne‘

*‘u?’ nde vted to echonle An

hnriore Willi or without the furniture I In slum-.nul lulled to SOHO],

AN ) YOUNG PEOPLE of every e¢e,hoth Innie nmi iemeie. it In inir to neenme that M
hooke in the market, et nny price, eauteiu eo many ueel'ul nud nvnlluhir dieiognee euddnme.

netlme. humor end eentiment.

mm: mucous, N0. 1. -‘

an. 1. ..ie Melee. For nine young led]...
' g...“ e “we Engl‘ehmen. For three bnye.
rdeo’e damnation. For mele end femle.

‘hlon. For two ladiee.
'4. Reheereel. For elx b0 e.
Which will you Choolel ‘or twohoye.

een ofMey. For two little girie.

The, ee-Ferty. Forionriediu.

ree Scenee in ded Life. Mnieend Iemele.
Ire. Sniiilee’ Coulee-ion. For mule und female.
The Mieelon ol the Spirite. Five young ludioe.

 

Hohnohhing. Fur fivee eelrere.

The Secretol' Succeee. ‘or three

Yuun Americu. 'i'hree Innlee e two fem-lee

Jone inu‘e Duetiny. Four ielneiee, onen-eie.

l‘he oily of tho Duel. For tlm-e mule-peek“.

Dogmetiem. For three mule epeekere.

Thel nrnnt Con rounded. For two in”

The net Young Man. lv‘nrewo melee.

The Yenr’e Reckoning. it i'enlelee ml] Hall

The Viiinge with One Gentlemen. l‘q etght
mulee end one mule.

e eehre.

  
 

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 2.

The Geniue of Libertv. 9 melee end 1 female.
Cinderella or, The Little Ginee Slipper.

Goo: end Saying Bed. Severn] chnrnctere.
iden Rule. ’l‘wo melee emi two i‘emniee.
The Gill 0! the Feiry Queen. Several femniee.
Teken in end Done For. For two cherectere.
The Country Auut‘e Vieit to the City. For eev—

enl ohnmhre.

The Two Rom-me. For two mniee.

Irylzf tlee Chnrectere. For three melee.
The e py Family. For eeverni ‘nnimele.’
The bow. For eeverel zhernctrre.

How to \‘rite ' Pnpuinr'Storiee. he uh
The New end the Old. For two melee -
A Seneutiun nt Lent. For two melee.

The Greenimrn. For two melt-e.

The Thne Men of Science. For Io." melee.
The Olll Lndy'e Will. For tour Inniee.

The Little l’hll ennherl. For two little ‘ll'h. .
How to Find nn lleir. For five melee. A
The Viriuee. For elx young ludiee.

A Connuhlul Eologue.

The Public nleetin . Fivemnlee end anemia-h
The Engiieh Truve er. For two main.

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 3.

He Mey Queen. For en entire echool.

Me Reform Convention. For ten femulu.
.[eepinx Bud Company. A Furce. For five xnnlee.
wourting Under Dichuitiee. I melee, I tern-in.
alltlonnl Repmentativee. A Burlesque. 4 melee.
"uniting the Butt. For numeroue tnnlue.

 

The Genteei Cook. For two melee.
Masterpiece. For two melee end two fenel‘
The Two Romene. For two melee.

The Snme. Second ecene. For two melee.
Showing the White Fenther. I Innlee, {em
The Bettie Cell. A Recitetlve. For one well.

 

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 4.

The fro-t King. For ten or more pereone.

Martin in L e. 'l‘hree melee nnll twn (amnion.
'eith, 1 nnd Charity. For thrue little girie.
Der‘: - an Joun. For two maiee nnil onuft-nmle.
The ny. A Floral Fenzv. For six iilt'e girie.
The Elmll'mted Prime-I. 2 mnloe,eevornl feumiee
“Marco Whomuonori- Due. 7 .na1.».,1 ftlvlllllfl

 

The Stubh‘etown Volunteer. 9 mnlee, l ferrule
A Some from “ I’uul Pry.” For [our melee.
'l‘he Chnrme. For three mllel Ami one {emeh
Bar, Cloth nnd Broom. For three little girle.
Tim lllcht \l'm . ACnlhqui'. For two hoye.
\l‘hnt iho Leila-r Suye. F‘r two umlee.

The mine“! Dre“. Aeonnquy. Fo—cn. ml

 

‘l'n'le Client. Fore" 1| n|:|i--e,nnu (ennui.-
‘ gy. ADlacuseion. For iwnuiy “mice.

The Rnwuul of Benevolence. l‘or four mnles .
The Lutlu‘. For two mulue.

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 5.

mm Guresee. For echMl or nrlnr.
Mutant. A “ Three Person" " u re.
him the Curt/I'll). For Innlee unii feminine.
e Eta Pi Society. Five boys end n tomhw.
xnn tunth Dev. For eeverni lemnl‘: I'J‘uuterl.
hiding in “Turn” Foruverei meire.
fink: no! Boye Tribunel. For ten toye.
A Lem Tongue. Severei melee end (emulate.
How Not to Get ee Anewer. For two femniee.

 

i’uttim: An Airu. A Cniinqny. For t. flak!
The Siming ill Irk. For never-i llrye
'i'wu Menu of Life. A Coilnqny. For tee gir'a

[Extlnrt from Murino Fnliern.

  

An Ac‘lng Charade.
. For nix wrungr lmiiu.
The riehmen tHome. Fur twn mnlel.
Feehionnhln Requirement. For three rlrleo
A Bevy o! i'e (Eyee). For eight er leu littlegu-h

Mn-tr '-Yllun.-
The

 

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 6.

'Wey They Kept e Sure»
lw Wet under Difleuiuee. [or live melee.
I'm Tell. For It whale school.
V IJll-B'I Right- !evee femeiee earl tmI melee.
gt le not Cold the. Glitter-e. Mei. end lend».
’e ee low. '0! :1: melee.
'ev tine

meet-e hole.

Mela nnri Iemelee. The Two Cnnmelnre. For three finite

  

The Vuteriee of Folly. For e n m
Aunt Beley'e Keene. Your {e end two Ini-
The Libel Suit. lortwe inn-lee end one Ink
lento ciene. For 5 number of boys

Chrietrnee Melee- Fo' more! Hull fili-

The Teen up he two Del-e.

     

 

 

   

male ' School Sorta—Dummies.

 

/

In. Jon. Jun-I. Thru goon Ind two lull».
I'lu bow (onion. For (our onto.

Hora thin out lute-nu. For out put. and Indy.
Who on o-rth ll Incl For than girls.

Tho right not to be I pamper. l‘or two ho".
Wouuu. nnture will out. For a ghlu’ school.
xiv-millet and bnwholor. For two boys.

The and «I a draw. For five "am.

Thu nurpriu pnrty. For six] til: girll.

A otucucnl dlmnltntion. For thru hoyl.

BIKE DIALO

‘u fuirlu’ olupndc. Numeroul rharncton
, mot’n plrploxitlu. For nix gentlme
lions. euro. For two ludlu and 0on gent.
e ll thch in In «All. A number ul'hoyl.
mt amen or monkoy. For two bo 1.
the lit“. phllowphu. For two li [lrlm
Luut l'olly’o louon. For [our lndi .
A wiml-fnll. Acting oil-roam Fou nmhu.
Will it [my] For two Myl.

DIME DIALO

Fully Ann. For {our lndlu onrl on. gontlomu.
Tho mootan of tho windl. For n school.

The good they did. For nix hullu.

Tho boy who win. For Ill gentlemen.
Good-b dn . A colloquy. For thru glrla.
‘I‘ho Ilc w: l mun. For thru buy;

I‘lu lave-ti ‘nting committee. For uln- India.
A “ corn" in roguu. For {our boyl.

  

bum DIALOGUES No. 14.

man. t. Actln churn-lo. Bo ldl
Con-clan“, the orb tor. Fur lndy Ind [out '
How to mqu umthorl hn yy. For two boy.-
A courlmivn argument. or two Kirk

A woman’s Minot-an. For thru lll‘ .
ltum’: work (Tampa-lice ; For {our "all.
Thu Intnl minthh For two young luliu.
£311 and none. For out grut nn-l on. My.
Retribution. For A number a! boys.

arms No. 15. ,
Tllu heir-amid. For numoroun malp-
Don’t bell whnt you lll‘fll'. l‘ul’ tluu 1
:1 tv m. For thrululin. ,
’l‘h- chief‘s ruolve. Extract. For two nm'...‘
Telling her lrieudl. For uvorul clmrucun.
'l‘lu lorulgnur'l t‘onbln. For two in.

The out without III owner. Suvrral chi-noun
N ntunl ulocllou. For thru gnu-won.

GUES No. 16.

Tl:- lmpl a! th. trunk room. For ll" “Ma.
Tho boo-ten. A Colluquy. For two mu. m
Kitty'l funinl. For uvurnl litllu girla.
Strongem. Chnndu. For levernl ell-mun
Tutlng hor uholln. For numerqu uholnn.
Tho world ll whnt wl main ll Tm. glrh.
This old Ind tho new. For panama Ind

   

   
 

   

DIME DIALOGUES No. 17.

l-fl'l'LI IOLKI’ Irxlcrlll AND DIALOOL'II.

f. is hp y you mutt be good. For two little
'lrll on one boy.
Evanucout glory. For a bevy of boyl.
ho littlu pungent-hr. For two llttlc girll.
Whnt pom {rich-ll. For two little girls.
erthl Wuhlngun tn p-rty. For flvu llttlo
girl. in old-thug mltunll
flu 0le there ll ln It. For two yonng be".
100 Ind {ooth littll (M. For two giyh.
#lGlluJ’I lnqulriu. l-‘orsnmllchildun lelclllr.
I. cocking club. For two glrll Iml otlun.
ow to do it. For two boys.
hmrdnd yearn to coma. For boy untl girl.
n’t tmt non. For uunl Imnll bow
be" th Iklu. For two mull girl.
ho trot IPOIIm. For thru little boy .
Gin Ill little boy. 3 eluncn, Thu nor of tho
plum pudding; I’ll be It InIn ; A lltt . ‘lll’l
right. lynch; Johnny’l opinlnn of grand-
mothorl; The Martin; hen; ll. knnwn drr
not; A Ilnnll boy’l VlOVl of corm; Robby-‘-

   

 

urmun ; Nobod ’l ehlld ; Nuttllgnt mad
Gray]; thtl. oy'l \‘lOW of Low Columbn
diuuvorul Aluoriu; thllu lrl‘l View: Lit-
tlu hm’n IYIIClI on timn; A lttlo boy’l but.
at; The n: dnlxht murdw- Robby Rob’l one
and urmon; How tho In y «no; A boy’-
oburutlonl: 'l‘ho new Il‘tn: A mollur'o
love; The crouwnin' fury; Baby Lulu : Joli
lllllingn on tho hum lu-lmo, wrcn. ulligntur:
Diud yutordny: Tl:- chiekon'l mint-Lu > T '
heir uppnruut; Dallvor ul from nil; lion’!
want to he xomlt Oulfi I druultcn follow;
'l‘ho two little roblal - luv to tonal-ml;
A nonunu tl ; Lin boy'l doclnlnltion; A
:hild' ‘ . Balm; 'l‘lu goblin cu Rub:
n-dub'. Column) ; Llulo clutteroox; ho-
nro they; A boy’l View; Tho twant frog-t
Golnc: unchool; A morni bath; ho ‘
of Dundu; A filmy; in t :- lillllfllll; hl
now llld nag: Tho llttln mulch-,- ldlo Du.
Pottery-mm ; Thin uni now.

       

 

.-
n.
n
I
:

mm: mucous No. 1s.

.;v wlohu. for unrll cluruten.
uu Uri-horn : thorn. ‘1 lllllll and 1 (calls.

Igrndy by lull. For tlireu mnlu.
For 6 lull-I.

good turn alqurvu mother
For a boy: And 1 lady.

firth“; Mollndn.

he now ulmlnr. For wveml buyyn.

I‘ll. lllfla inlarcomr. Fur {our hull".
tutu-dank. For 3 gontlouun and 3 Julia.

Gin I rlnz I 12 111510. For tour gum u

Spring-thin w! or. For nix littm vi» ..

Lott Ch-rho; or. tho xipry'u rwcnyu. '
meronl chur-utvn. ‘

A litlle lump. For three little bnya.

llanl time]. For 9 pnut‘emon And 4 In 1‘.“

The intact: well woru: looming. For twt‘ “J
Ind two [an-lulu.

DIME DIALOGUES, No.19.

An “Hui myth". Two fomalul l'lll two “lulu.

Contentmqu or fivu mu- 11:31.

Who In the :lnul For thm yous [ML
Culllomln u Thm m-lu Ind tlv'u

A littlo folh' play.

A “ duct."

    

The rollmd Iimplutonl. . For {our hulch

ercmlnr Ban-on. lI'or thrn molar. "

Mud-m oduculu. Thru mllu ll’ltl om {undo
Id Ivltl: too much lor-

'l‘ho {alry'l wining.

Aunt Euni exporlmo . '

alan lurio I G, 6. no hauls and MCUI‘I

 
 

   

 

1m un-

A
“am.n—m- v .

a ll‘ oummxmtholu- loco-old
Ind two luau".
|An “kw dut. ‘

Thu-mu. "Wm

  

  
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
   
   
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
    
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
      
  
 
 
 
  
   
 

 

 

 

 

  

    

5mm. school lerlee-Dlnlonu.
DIME DIALOGUEB, No. 20.

The m; an. Three min and three fem-lee An eir tulle. Far live mnlu and three Melee. '

 

 

 

 

     
   
    

 

 

‘ , AMrnaeu cnlln. For hm little girl-- CRY "all?" Ind country hum. For three ‘le
Ned'n preeeul. For (nut ho I. and one b '. V

' , Ind“: not. For lenulmr In: ernl «huh-n. The eili! PM" For “'0 livll Ind teacher.
Tellluxdrnnlm. For {our 1m e I. Nat one there! For (on! male chnrncture.
sand by love. For two have. Foot-yrlnl. For numeroue dear-curl.
Mielakrn iilemily. Twu mulne Mu! three fennel-I Kn mg bonnie" Two {em-qu nnd three mule.

      
   

   

 

Couldn't rend Englleh. For 3 mqu nndi lune .
A liltln Veeuviue. For nix little [him
" 50111.” For three boys.

" mm: DIALOGUES. No. 21.

One Indy and two gentlemen.
e-urel For two melee.

 

'l

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

. \ euceeuful :lonnllon party. For uv-rnl. yMflrk "fink" return. For {our mm
« , \. tofllem «luv. ol‘ dunger. For lhne main and Clndgrolln. For lIerIl children.
luree femnien. To? HIIICI) for Aunt. Mntildu. For three
3' g nu Red Riding Hood. For urn children. WI! nil-ill“ wi’e. Three {rm-In uni
1W 1h. Inn-i0 him ropnu. A duet. A lutlden recuvery. For iluree mni
Thelluuleun the MS. Furlour {eulllu- Thvdnublo Itmuuem- For four rum-lei.
Evidence eneugn. For twomeiel. Counting chlckene lulu" “My wen hmhofi
0th and welith. For Your remain. but {our nulu.

 

Wuerfnii. For never-L

 

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 22.
- The Dull Cupid: or, the min-kn of I muruln‘. Tilnuin'e banquet. For enumhlv o! lrle.

For three gentlemen nml two I' I. Boy: will be hoye. For We be e nmfone gin.

Tim. Na'er-du-well; or, e blathere ieuon. lot A Pliny any; or, the uhuol-gir philosopher;
two melee And lwo lent-Al". For three young lldien.
3 High an; or the new runnin. For two [ll-ll. God in love. For n number ufuhoinn.

Itren e ndveulnree. For two hoye. The way he mennged. For 9 melee, I Iemlee,
~._ The hug'e luppor. For four girle. Fandango. Vuioul chm-Mun, while Mi other
', <A precsieei nxempiifiuliou. For we boyl. wine.

‘ oneieur 'l‘lniere in America) er, Ynnkee u. The ma. doctor. Forlwo tiny girls.
Frenchmen. For four lm n. A eweel reven 0. Fur {our boyl.

hoxy'n diplomuy. 3 l’eme ee end‘ lntldenule.’ A Mny any. ‘or three mm lr‘e.

A Frenchmnn; or, the onzwmed nun. For mo From the nublime to the ridicu eul. Fe! 1‘ Huh
iediee end one genllemnn. Heart not fece. For five boyl.

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 23.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
     

I . _ Rhodn' Hunl'l remedy. For “'0 Mien.) mule. A beer «mien. For three mniee two fund“.
I Hun: Schmidt}: recommend. For two m n The huly beee.‘ For four lmle girl;
5 ‘3 Chan Ind Gflllllbllv For two Mlle bm‘ Checkuln For numeroul chll’lclifl.

 

 

The plmnlnm douglmuie. For nix funnel“. Slhonl km

For two little [irll
n it pl)" Fur nix mnl

I priuripli ell-m

            

end uljuneh

     
  
  
   

     

 

  
   
  
    
    
  
   
 

  
   

 

   
 

 

 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 
 

 
 

\ mpnny manners umi ho mpoiilanen. For Drnee and geld. Sever-l til-run , male nnd 1..
l ' hm melee, two fexnnleenud two children. mnle.
l; ‘ t The zlnd nlnye. For lwu lmle hoyn. Confound Mille-. For three lmln, two full.
‘ - ‘ Unforlulnle r. llrown. Far I uleie,6 fem-in. iznomnce v . nice. Foreieven min.
b‘ j The reel eon. For in girle. Pndnnte nll. ‘or {our . ,
f. ‘ DIME DIALOGUES, No. 24.
l ‘ h The goddeu ol liberty. Far nine younn luliee. The six lmwe men. Far nkboyl.
h. ' The three grucu. For three liulu FHA. Hex e you hum L)", new”
an he mneic director. For unn mean. The true queen Two you 1M1
: ‘ j v l urnuge leer-t. For Lame (Me. A nliulxt mm. 4 main, ml [1: 04‘
All unjuel, um". For (om- mniu. ernl nuxlllnr‘
‘ The nlmp girl’e vintuy. l mnie, 3 femnlee. Luy and hue .3 In“. hike“,
’ 'ne peycllomflm. 3 lantlemen, gledler. The aid and you . t IL. .‘jl-. 5’?
I lean In no weal fur it. PM (our lndlel. Thu pom) curd. 3 lm land 1 mama.
‘ A hlnuicei. A. number nl‘ ellnrnel'e, boil: lexa. Mother Goon end her banning.“
‘ ‘ v need In the pacemaker; Seven young ylrlu ulwol leucy dreu dieing” uni mm
, BIKE DIALOGUES, No. 25.
be V_ “0 like!“ of the delecublne and in mleer- The trna uu «Ive-1th. For I whole Idea 1'
thin or two in“ IN] mo g-ntle'mn. Gmnemr. For numerouec m
6 mm boys J tanner. PM onnell in bi: plnce. For two bays.
. . For (our Mel. Ll". e whe hende. For lonr mu. (ills.
» Mend in need. For I r mnle The regunemwrl. qu five have.
‘ hours. For twelve liule Crnblree‘e wooln . hevernl elurneten.
my. door- nml out. For five llnle bcyl. Integrity the ban a! ll “cc-en. Two melee.
“SEMI. For one null and {our “ml-e. A eroded wny nude etrlighl. One gent“
v.1. ‘ 50 pound 0! hell. For three boyl. end one Mi. ‘
'In el the eddlere. 'I mixed ell-rule“ How u “ but ‘ In. ' you; Earle. T" N‘
uh I. u n number a! hoye. ad on unnamed.
‘ , ‘51.“. I" I Inn-her»! mm Ilrle. _
‘ " 3" The Above hoeh nn all! by Randall.» every-hue. or will \e _‘ M I d
. Ill-n - “pl .1 price, to a... mu. v

lull“ J ADA-l. F.“ ’0 Will. In ‘- 'e

   
 

   
   
 

" ’. ‘ v<l

     

mu scnodr. “BEL—SM“! m Mam“.

 

   
     
        
     
    
   
    
   
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
    
 
 

’ DIME DIALECT SPEAKER, No. 23.
' Dan's wat’. do um, All nbout n bu, Lam! Chlnuu outrun, My nalghbor'a loll.
I‘ho Mlnllllppl nlrulo, Scandal, 'l‘hn mnnll’un dufiuy bl Condonud Mylholo"
ha a tid. zooms in, A dark Ilda vl-w, thu lrllhmnn, Plclm,
Ouc- lam vat» Muy hi! ’1'. nu! uy, Pug” Mchnn The Noreldn,
{wt Cu surnan Germm, Spray: from full Bil Lngendl of Attlcs,
QM d’Flnhorty on wo- Mnry‘n Illlnlll vltu llunb liugl, The unvevplipc lr-uel,
mau‘l righu A healthy «ll-chum, De firm-manna.- ob de A dokator’n rubblu,
l'lw hqu rulers. how ’l‘ohln- r. tn Iptlk, litlwuilnn, Tho coman mun
I-hov “qt-kn," Olll Mrs. Grim-:1, ‘Dar'l nuflin new under The llllgnnt nnnlx gt .
Hezekiah Dawson on « parody, ‘ de um, Muldoonln, .1
Mother. ln-luw, Mm and only, A Ncum rollgloul poom, Tlml, lillle baby I v' r
He didn‘t tell the farmY ’-ill Umlurwood, pllol, 'l'lmt vinllu the cnrmr. . ‘
l'ne tru Mary of Frwk- Old Grnuley, IPicnic dellg m, A genewine inleru »
lin’n Hts, The plll peddlor'l DI'AHOIII' cundlnlnu’s vlewl, Au. ln mullnn w
l would 1 were n boy llun, Dundreury'n wisdom, bird of lllmnyX
mam, Widder Grun’l In! Plniu lnnnunge by uulh- The Crow,
A onwqu uory, wordl, l {ul June, Out wul.

' DIME DIAMGUES No. 26.

901.111.. Thru lulch and two gentlemen. Thu lesion of mercy. Two wry mall glrll.

ounwm Ind mull-hull. Slx ludienndunml Pumice what you pro-ch. Four lull".
Anew-tori. Polltlciln. Numerou- clunwuu. F
A mt. thnt did not lull. Slx how. The canv-ulug "out. Two mlu All Q“ ‘
Two 7‘31 a! Male; smug; Two mu. glrln. {um-la. ,
‘3 com! your cmc'unl baton they an Grub. 'l'wo mllu. .
IIIth Four ludlu nd a boy. A nllzht nun. ‘1‘th fumlu ad on. uh.
ll ll {nil-II lo" tad wlr. 5 lAdlu, 9 lenllamnn. Embodlod Iumhlnc. Thru young lmdlu.

Wk mad Hula-animal.

1'!!! MNth no .014! Ncwulonlon on wlun or wlll h mt . “Lb
“IE-n Imyt cl prlca, l0 C'nflh’fifl r, ' I M ’ «

mum U 4)” Puma-I. DI Winn- In. I. '-

ew and. Jul: gm rld at tho l-pcy. Two mnlu, How Jlm Pour! ilod. Two mun.

 

 

 

 

 

21MB POCKET NOVEILS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY AT TEN CENTS EACH.

The Boy Pioneer.
Canon, the Guide.
8 The Heart Eater.
40 The Huge Hunter.
41 Wild Nut, Trapper.
49 Lynx-ca .
‘3 The \Vh te Outlaw.
“ The Dog Trailer.
‘5 The Elk King.
46 Adrian, the Pilot.
‘1 The Man-hunter.
18 The Phantom Tracker
49 Moccaain Bill.
50 The Wolf Queen.
5i Tom Hawk, Trailer.
I, The Mad Chief.
153 The Black Wolf.
M Arkanau Jack.
55 Blackbeard.
56 The River Rlilu.
5'! Hunter Ham.
5: Cloudwood.
59 The Texas Hawh.
60 Mercilaaa Mat.
6i Mad Ant’ony’l Seoutl
£9 Lucklua Tl’flpprr.
‘3 The Florida Scout.

6'! Sharp-Ey .
68 lreuJ-liind.
(9 The Yellow Hunter.
70 The Phantom rider.
11 Delaware Tom.
'12 Silver Rifle.
1:5 The Skeleton Scout.
N Little Rifle.
75 The Wood “'itch.
'16 Old RutY. Tre per.
1'! Scarlet Shoul era.
'18 Border Rifleman.
79 Until" JMK.
so TiK‘r—Tlll, Seminole.
RI Death-Dealer.
82 Kenton, the Ranger.
83 S cter Huruman.
NT e Three Trappera.
55 Kalaolah.

The Hunter Hercule;

Phil Hunter.

nun-Face. the Slayer.
ilia Antelope Buy.
93 The Phentoin Hunter.

94 Tom l’intle, Pilot.

95 Tile: Reil \Viznrd.

96 The ltival 'l'rappara.
97 The Squuw Spy.

9:! Dinky Dick.

99 Colunel Crockett.
100 Old Bear Yaw.

lOl Redlaw.

10? Wild Rube.

103 The lndian lluntera.
Scarred Eagle.

Nick now.

106 The Indlun Spy.

101 Job Dean.

105 The “food King.
1179 The Sculpoil llunter.
Nick the Scout.

111 The Texan Tiger.
112 The Croewd Knives.
Tiger-Heart.
lid Muelied Avenger.
115 The Pearl Pirates.
116 Black Panther.
Ahdiel the Ax enger.
Cato, t e Creeper.
Two-Handed Mitt.
Mud Trail Hunter.
1:1 Black Nick.
l‘)? Kit llirtl.
19: The 5 meter Ridera.
I94 Giant ’ete.
The Girl Captain.
Yankee Evil.
Silverapur.
Si uatter Dick.
T 0 Child Spy.
Mink Coat.
Red Plui . ‘
Clyde, the Trailer.

, The Loat Carha.
'l‘he Cannibal Chiai'.
Karulbo.

Scarlet Moccaaiu.
Kidnapped.
Maid of the Moun-

tam.

The Sclnto Scouta.
Border Renegade.
The Mute Chief.
Boone, the Hunter.
Mountain Kate.
The Red Seal ier.
The Lone Chief.
The Silver Bugle.
Chinga, ChCyI'HHO-

105

HE
119

 

148 The Tangled Trail.

 

H9 The Unaeeii liiiiid.

J50 The Lone indium.

151 The Briuiileii Chiaf.

1517 Billy liowlega.

m The \'ulley bcuut.

154 Red Jacket.

155 Tn. Jungle Scout.

156 Charohau Chief.

151 The Bandit llermii.

)5?! The Patriot Scout-

15: The Wimil Rungera

160 The Red Fuu.

181 liciiiiiiful Unknown.

16? Canehralie Mule.

l63 Hunk, the Guide.

154 The Murder Scout.

165 “'ild NM.

166 Maid of Wyoming.

16'! The Three Captivea.

168 The hunt Hunter.

16! Border Lew.

1’10 The Lifted Truil. ‘

111 The Trader Spy.

112 The Forest Specter.

113 The liorder Fun.

11‘ Border Vengeance.

1'15 Border lluaaie.

1'16 The Son: 0! Liberty.

1'17 The Lott Bride.

178 Keatlen.

179 The Tonhawa Spy.

180 The Prairie Scouige.

l8l Red Li liinlng.

182 Brave leart.

183 Night Hawk Kit.

184 Muttnng Slim.

18! Hurricane Bill.

186 The Red Outlaw.

181 The Swamp Scout.

188 The Shawnee'a Fee.

189 Mohawk Nat

190 Old Jupe.

191 The Prairie Rliiea.

11%! Old Kyle, Trailer.

193 Big Foot. the Guide.

194 Red Brotherhood.

19! The Man in Green.

196 Gian-Eye, the Great
8 ot.

19'! The Prairie Trappera

l98 Block John.

l99 Keen-Knife.

5200 Mad Skipper.

‘10] The Young Spy.

‘10? 'lha lnrlinn Avenger.

I 203 Riial Liriitrnanla.

 

$04 The Swamp Rifii‘l-

205 Tm.- Belluon Scum.

‘zue Ducotah Sreurge.

907 The Twin Scouta.

W8 Biickakln Bill.

209 Benin Arengora.

‘llO Tim Hiinible‘a Charge

fill The Shawnee Smut.

91‘) The Silent Siuyer.

‘213 The Prairie Queen.

‘114 The Backwoodanirn.

‘116 The Primuer at La
Vintreaae.

910 l’eleg Smith.

‘111 The “'itch 0' till
“Fallowilh.

‘218 The Prairie Piraua.

MO The linear Captlil.

9‘20 The Red Spy.

9‘21 Diek Darling.

1‘99 Multan; Huntera.

‘173 Guilty or Not Gniliy

‘2‘“ The Outlaw Ranger.

1‘25 Schuyklll Rang-n.

296 On the Deep.

W7 lrona.

‘173 The Mountaineer.

9‘19 ’1 hr llunter‘a Eacape

'1::0 '1 hr Golden lialt.

931 The Swain Rid

‘13‘2 Jabea Haw .

1:43 Mauaaoit’a Dnughter

‘134 The Mad Hunter.

235 The Reefer of ’16.

936 Antelope Abe.

’31 The Hunte ’ Vow.

338 The Hume a Pledge

S39 Rettlepata.

NO Tha Prairie Bride.

in Old Griuly.

94! Daahiug Drape".

943 Will-o’dthiap. \

Ni Daahing Dick.

’45 Old Crouflre.

2.16 Ben Bramble.

941 Brigand Capiall.

248 Old Strategy.

:49 Gray Hair, the Chief.

750 The Prairie Tipra.

’51 The Rival Hiintrra.

252 The Texan Scout.

763 Zebra Zarh.

254 Mash-d Memnger.

255 The Brethren at the

mini.
956 The Boy Spy.

THE l'OLLOWING WILL BE lSSUED lN THE ORDER AND ON Till DATES INDICATED:

257 Table. the Trailer.

25% The Boy Chief.

259 Tim. the Trailer.
260 Red Ax. The Indian Giant.

261 Stella the ti 3'.

mm The \ ’liite . yenzer.
268 The Indian king.
264 The Long Trull.
265 Kirk the Guide.
286 The T’huntom Trail.
26? The A ache Guide.
7 ad Miner.
269 keen Eye. the Ran er.
270 Blue Belt, the Gui e.

268 The

271 On the Trail.

By 011 Comnea.

By N. C. iron.

By Seelin Rohina. Ready April 19th.
Ready May 13th.
By C. Dunning Clark. Rendi' .‘i

-‘mh.

By Paul Bihba. Ready June 10th.

I Renin June Nth.

By hi" or Lewi- W. Parson. Ruiniy July 8th.
By N. VHI iIIm Buateed. Rhady July Wd.

By Edward S. Ellie. Ready Auguai 5th.

Hy Mra. Ann S. Ste hem.
By Edward S. .liia. Ready Septarnber 9d.
By the author of “Seth Jonu."

Ready Anzuai. lDih.

By Harry Halnrd. Ready September IOtli.

By Lewia Jay Swift.
By Jamea L. Bowen.
V By Edward 5. Ellil.
I?! The Specter Spy.

Rudy Ortnher 14th.
Ready October QSih.

Ready November 11th.
By Major Lewia W. Caraon.

Ready Novemhar 75th.

Ready September 16th.

For Iale by all Nowadaalerl; or unt poat~paldz alngle nnmbara, inn can“; aix monthl, (13 Net), .ldh

one year, (26 Non), ".50.

s ,

BEA!)th AND wane, Puhllahera, 98 wiuiu- Itreet. New York.

J
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