.Porkel Sui-ch % BEADIJESS Illuminated.

Ton Cents.

No. I 88-

 

 

THE SHAWNEES’ FOE;

THE HUNTER OF THE JUNIATA.

BY W. J. HAMILTON,
AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOW:

13 Tm: FRENCH SPY. 144 THE RED Scum
30 EAGLE-EYE. 165 WILD NAT.
102 WILD Run. 174 801mm: VENGEANCE.

‘ 110 NICK, THE Scour. 176 Tm: SONS or LIBERTY.
112 Tm: CROSSED Kerns. 180 Tm; PRAIRIE Scounen.
1:32 KIT Bum. 131 RED LIGHTNING.
13M GIANT PETE. 1:6 THE RED OUTLAW.

138 MAID 03‘ mm MOUNTAIN. 137 THE SWAMP SCOUT.

f NEW YORK :
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
93 WILLIAM STREET.

 

hand According to Act of Common. in the your nu. by
BEADLE AND COMPAN Y,
b tho Clotk’l once of the Diatrict Court of the United sum (or I.
Southern mmm of New “"3.

 

 , THE SHAWNEES’ FOE.

«

 

CHAPTER I.
j TKEFDRESTBCOUTS.

it; A bur river ran down from a. mountain gorge, sparkling
, "in the sunrnys, and hid itself in the forest beyond the little
{ " opening. Far away rose the loity peaks of the mountains,
{ spurs of the Blue Ridge. The river was the Juniata, and
i i the date that time in Colonial history when the French were
“ struggling with the English for possession in America. Their

 forts, following the footsteps of the adventurous La Belle,
 lined the rivers from Quebec to New Orleans, cutting 08 the
r English from the fertile land west of the mountains. The

French always had shown, in their diplomatic relations with
the Indians, at better knowledge of these people than the
English; hence, it is not at all remarkable, that, while the
English retained the nominal support of the Six Nations,
most of the other tribes sided with the French. The Jesuits,
wily and designing men, full of enthusiasm and love of
their religion, penetrated the country in every direction,
making journeys of the most appalling length and danger,
hoping to enhance the glory and power of the church of
Rome. Whatever could be said of the acts of these men,
' , they were true to their principles, and to the religion which
sent them into journeys over the face of a wild country. The
. , bloody, stern and"unreienting manner in which they looked
= '_ x V upon the death of enemies of the church, was the result of
their pernicious teachings, borrowed il-om the Inquisition.

V The English hated and feared them, knowing that they had

' , s i done more to enhance the glory of France, than her soldiers.
17‘ Men of culture and refinement, who had gained renown in

I the world of letters, like Fathers La Balls and Hennipen, dared

 danger, endured every conceivable hardship, {or the

 they loved. It is not surprising that the simple

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dissipated Englishmen whom they met, or of the stolld Dutch.
And when they came to the valley of the Ohio, they were
received with open arms. ,

_ _ About the year 17—, atband of enterprising Frenchmen
came down the river from Niagara, a post established long
i‘t'l‘tfl‘c, drove'nway a party of workmen who were employed
luvs-n the ground by the Ohio Company, and began a fort,
which they named De Quesne. The employees of the Ohio
Company, retreating to their homes, carried the news of the
coming of the French. The English Governor of Virginia
at once sent out spies to ascertain the number and designs of
the enemy.

0n the afternoon of a clear day, in the month of May,
18—, the sound of blows, and the cries of a boyish voice in

,pain, broke the stillness of a primeval forest in the western
part of the State of Pennsylvania, near the spot we have

:described. Mingled with,the sound of the blows and the

. voice of the boy, came the hoarser tones of a men, reviling

‘ some, person in no measured terms. The persons who made

: the noise broke through the bushes and revealed the forms of
a man and boy, clad in the coarse homespun common to the
region.
which he was beating the boy vigorously, while the lad
responded to every blow by yelling loudly. Both merit a
description. The man was of powerful build, with alean,
but good-hutnored._iovial face, and a sharp, cunning eye. His
arms were of wonderful length, reaching almost to his knees
when he stood erect. Over his shoulder was slung a gun of
the best description used in those times, a long powder-horn,

and bullet-pouch. His waist was encircled by a girdle of ‘
tough deer-skin, in which was thrust a long and dangerous-

looking knife.

’lhe boy was a fat, healthy looking fellow, with an
snurrnuus head, crowned by a thick brush of fluxen hair.
His mouth was in keeping with his head, and of such dimen-
sions, that, when open, as it was at the present moment, his
head seemed half severed. His nose, literally, was “ nothing

’to speak 0 ,” being nearly concealed from view by his flabby
cheeks, distended by loud howls for mercy, of which he was

getting little at the hands of the man. Making forelow '

The man held in his hand along beech rod, with .

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A BARGAIN. 11

i hemlock, he went up it with an agility hardly to be looked
for in So bulky a lad, scrambled to the top, and looked down
upon his persecutor, who made no attempt to follow him, but
stood at the foot of the tree, lighting his pipe.

“ Come down here, white-head," he said.
“ I’ve got liekin’ enough for one day, I reckon,” answered
the boy. “ I ain't confin’ down."
‘ 3 “ Stay there, then. All there is about it, I’ll tan your hide
I) like fun when you do come down, if you wait, and I Won’t
touch you cf you come down now. \Vhat do you say ‘3”

5, “ I’ll come down,” said the boy, promptly. “Drabbit it,

i though, what did you lick me for ?"

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1

“ Didn’t I tell you ?”
, “No, you didn’t. You jest begun to lace me before you
said a. word, and I ain’t a-goin’ to stand it."
f ‘ , “ Oh, you ain’t? How you goin’ to help yourself '2”
' “Don’t know,” replied the boy, Slowly descending from the
tree. “But, when any one licks me, I want to know why
they do it. Lz'ckz'n’ is all right; don’t say nothin’ agin that.
Boys was born to be licked, I s’pose, but, the thing is right
here, When you lick a boy, let him know why you lick him, '
» ; ‘and then you’ll see how he'll appreciate it.”
“ I don’t give reasons for every thing, young man ; but this
I’ll tell you: I was stalking a deer, and was jest going to
pull on him when you come floundering and a—plunging
through the bushes and scared my game away. I told you,
when I brought you away from Cumberland, that I’d look to
you to keep clear of me when I was hunting. You heard
me say that often enough, you white‘headed young varmint
you l"

“ Didn’t on say that you wanted to know when any one
'stopped at the cabin? Eli? Course you did! You know
.you did! Waal, how was I to know that you was artcr a

deer? You want to see Chris Gist when he comes, don’t
, you? Say I”
, “. Who ?" cried the hunter quickly. ,
r g 1‘ Oh, you are mighty sharp now, you are, after goin’ 3
Hgklu‘ of a feller for nothin’. Couldn't you a snug out when
; you heard me a-comin’, eh ? And, could I a helped a-comin’,
 eh? And, don’t you want to see Chris, ch? 011, you ain’t

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half so smart as you think you are. Don’t you go a looking
for that whip now ; you promised not to go a lickin’ me if
I‘d come down."

“ Is Chris at the cabin 1’"

“ Yes, he is."

“Why didn't you blow the horn ?”

“ Chris wouldn’t have it; he said it wa’nt no use to go
and tell the Indians just where to find you by blowing of a
horn.”

“ You blow your horn loud enough. Which is the wast,
I should like to know, to blow a born, or to have you go
howling through the woods, you great lubberly, overgrown,
white-headed elephant, you i Git along back and cook some-
thing to eat; cook some of that fish, since you skeered away
the deer. I didn‘t give you enough of that birch. But, git
on ! Don‘t waste time.” ‘

The boy lumbered on before, and they hurried through'
the woods. A walk of about a mile brought them to another
opening upon the river bank, where, under a huge hill, the
hunter had built him a but of logs. Here he lived with no
other company than that of the boy, who kept house for
him, cooking the provisions, and making away with a fair
portion of his cookery. This man, John Robinson, was
known along the frontier as an active and vigilant scout and
spy, fit to be the companion of the famous guide and scout
whom he found waiting for him in the house, Christopher
Gist. This man, famous for his connection with Washington
in his perilous visit to Fort Du Quesne, was by nature gifted
with the attributes of the true forest—ranger. He was fearless
in danger, never flurricd by any unexpected chance, ready and
willing to peril his own safety for the good of his country.
The Governor of Virginia knew him and his character well,
and entrusted him with the most important matters.

“ What brought you this way, Chris?” demanded Robin- ‘
son, after they had shaken hands. “ Josh, you white-headed,
staring fool, if you don’t put to and cook something, I’ll skin
you alive! The Indian that would be mean enough to dirty ‘

I

his fingers by teching your scalp, must be awful mean. But.’

for all that, I expect you won’t have any hair when I com ,

back this time." ' ,

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“ Now, don’t," sniveled the boy. “ You make me feel
bad—now you do, really! Make him quit, Chris; do."

Chris laughed. “ I don’t think you are in any danger just
at present, my lad; but I am going to take Captain Jack
away. In my opinion, you must keep pretty close, for the
French are in the country, and when the Jesuits get among
the Indians, no man’s life is safe. Keep your eyes about you,
my lad, and when you hear the Indians, make for the limestone
caves upon the river.”

“ You ain’t goin’ to leave me alone ?"

“ Nothing else. We are going on a service of great difll-
eulty and danger, and do not want to be hampered by such
a fellow as you.”

“ Oh, but I kin keep up, Chris,” cried the boy _eagerly.
"‘ There’s a good deal more in me than you think ; now mind
I tell you. You jest let me go along with you and see how
I can’t stay here all alone. I’d be afraid. N 0
one likes to stay all alone out here, do they ?” .

“ Bosh i" was the unsympathetic answer. " You don’t
think we will take such a lumbering animal as you down the
rim. It’s a hundred miles, easy. Those great flat feet of
yours would be sore enough before you reached the end of your
journey. And with all that, Major Washington would not
have you with us; and, after all, he is the commander of the

“ Where are you going ?" asked Captain Jack, as Robinson
was called, along the border.

“ To Little Meadows first. You know the new fort the
French have built at the joining of the waters. Our men

, were there building a fort, and the Frenchers drove them away,

and now they are trying to make friends with the Half King,
as they call the chief of the Miamis. ‘ We are going to stop that.”
, “ Who is Washington? Did I ever see him ?”
“ No.

If you had, you would never ask the question. H

7 {was s. surveyor from Virginia, a boy in years, and yet one
' whom men would follow into any danger, confident in him.

‘ When you see him, you shall say with me that he has a won-

 He is a man in every enterprise, for what boy

“hie lg. would undertake a service such as

this with pleas-
us; Ming the privilege of going!” ‘ -

 

 

“ Where is he ‘3"
“ He is waiting for us a few miles away upon the river. I
turned aside at his orders, that I might "get you to join us.
He has heard of you, partly through me, and wishes you!
advice and assistance."

“ And he shall have it. Josh, you owl, do you stop gawk-
ing at me, and go on with your cooking! I am-goin’ to
clear. my gun. 1f supper is not ready for me when I come
in, I‘Ll put a coal of tire in the cellar kitchen of them lcggius
of yours. I will, you young white-head.”

“ I ain’t afraid," was the sulky , reply.
take some one of your size, and not go a-pickin’ on a poor
boy that ain‘t got no father nor mother? I ain’t u. goin’ to
stand it, neither.”

“ Ann I promised to be a father to you, you tarnal skunk P
Ain‘t I now ? Git on with that cooking, if you can. If you
can‘t, dang it, I ken help you, fire you I”

Josh went on with his cooking, growling audibly at the

‘ hardship of “cooking for a man as licked him for nothing at
all." Fish from the river, which Captain Jack had speered
that day, with corn-cake baked in the ashes, formed the meal,
to which the two men, as well as Josh, who always enjoyed
his own cooking, did ample justice. This done, they took
their arms, filled their haversacks with corn-bread and bacon,
and started out on the trail. It was nearly five o’clock .in
the afternoon when they set out, leaving poor Josh, weeping
and staring (lisconsolzuely, on the threshold of‘ the cabin. All
of n sudden his howling stopped!

“ Something has occurred to him," said Captain Jack.
“ Perhaps he has thought of a new dish, and means to try
it in my absence, the young rascal l”

“ \Vhere did you pick him up ‘3” said Chris.

“ When I was at Cumberland last. His father was killed
by the Indians, but, by good luck which seems to follow him,
he escaped to the post. Anybody but he would have been
dead long ago. thy, he was tackled by a bear in the woods,
when'hc was going for the cow, and climbed a tree. Thetis
his refuge in any case. The bear climbed after him, and
chased him ofl‘ the limb into the river; bear tumbled am:
him, fell upon a sharp stake in the river-bed. and-floated 06 ,

“Why don’t you

  

 
 

    

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l \ helplessly. If it had been me, the bear would have made a
i meal 05 me. Another time he got into a limestone cave to
,_ , _ hide from a storm, and found a whole litter’ of grizzly cubs
t there. He stole one and ran away. Bear chased him, and
i he took to a tree. As the grizzly could not climb, she lay
1 down under the tree to wait. lle staid there all night, yell‘
.1 ing for help. If I had not come by, on my way to the cabin,
\ ,‘ and shot the hear, he might have staid there to this day."
§ “ Is he useful to you ‘1’"
' ' ' “Rather. He is a good cook, but I have to lick the can-
tankerous young cub about twice a day to keep him in order.
o He has no judgment. He would blunder into the midst of a
Shawnee war-party, and ask the chief if he had such a thing
as a pipeful of tobacco about his clothes. The only hope
for him would be that they would see that he is a born natal
, ural, in which case no Indian Would lay a hand upon him.
That is a part of their creed. A fool is protected, because
'i the finger of Gitche Manitou has been laid upon him. Hist !"
The low-voiced exclamation caused Gist to pause quickly,
*and look to his arms. Before he could draw the knife upon
which his fingers had instinctively dropped, the bushes parted,
- and a fearful figure darted into the path. It was an Indian in ‘
his war-paint, black as night. Upon the breast, in livid
. white, was painted a grinning death’s-head. He was over
3 ' six feet in hight. His weapons were a long bow and arrow,
strapped to his back, a long knife, and a hatchet. 'The two
P ‘ latter weapons were held in either powerful hand. He planted
himself directly in the path, and demanded, in a hoarse voice:
“ What does the white man want in the land of the Shaw-
_ nee? I am Wah-ta-ha, the Vulture of my tribe. Let the
.5 “ white men go back as they came."
Captain Jack and his companion were no new men in In-
dian tactics. They did not know how many savages were
lurking in the thickets,- waiting to obey the orders of the great
.. \ Shawnee chief. They knew him, too, and that it was his
4 r habit. to meet the English fearlessly in this way, nnd warn
' them out of the country. He was fearless of danger, and
would have faced a dozen men as readily as two. Captain
N u ,h‘ék Spoke first. _ , I
 ’ , finale chief has been long upon the trail, he must have

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heard the name of Captain Jack. Does the Vulture of til
Shawnee think we are cowards, to turn back from one man!"

“ Captain Jack has spoken," replied the chief. “ His name
is known to the Shawnees. He is very brave; but the gourd
which goes often to the spring, is broken at last. The Shaw-
nees love these Who are friends to Father Unas. We love
Father Unas. He never takes a knife in his hand. Where
is the man that would rise up and strike him! But, men
have come after him who are not of his race. They take
arms in their hands and strike the Indians. We will not have
it so, and there is paint upon the face of the Shawnees."

“ The belts of the French are too bright for the Vulture of
the Shawnee. If they were a little brighter, he would raise
his hands against the sons of Father Unas."

“ No l” thundered the Indian. “ The white man lies!
The Shawnees love the sons of Unas, and will not dig up the
hatchet against them. But, these white men who come from
the South, must go back as they came. Do not the Shaw-
nees know when Captain Jack and Christopher a:e an the
trail P

“You know me, then ?" said Gist.

“ Ughl yes.” '

“ We will not go back." said Captain Jack.

“ A dark path is open before you,” said the chief. “ Pit.r
open before your feet. You will stumble and fall. The
war-cry is loud along the river, and all but the sons of
the Half King are ready for the battle. The Vulture would
be a friend to Captain Jack and to.Christ0pher. Go to the,
boy who has built his fire by the side of the river. Tell him
that he is very young, and may make a warrior when he is
older; but he is too young to be upon the trail. For the boy
who howls like the panther in the woods, the Indian will not
harm him.”

“ Josh is safe,” laughed Captain Jack.
a sharp beak, but we do not fear him.”

“Let Captain Jack go back, or go on, it will be the same.
His blood be upon his own head.”

“ Stand aside," said Christopher, in anger.
tlnm to waste in talking."

_ “ The Vulture is a great warrior. If he chose, he could

“ The Vulture has

“ We have no,

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take the scalps of Captain Jack and Christopher, but he will
not do it yet."

“ You are a modest fellow," laughed Captain Jack. “ Let
us pass." is

The Indian stood aside moodily, and let them pass. There
was an expression in his face which boded no good, but they
had no time to stay, and hurried on down the river. The
Indian looked after them until they were out of sight, and
then followed cautiouslv on the trail. ‘

“ Captain Jack has yet to know the Vulture. Would he
pass by if he knew that the scalp of his wife hangs at my
lodge-pole, and that some one he loved is called my daughter l'
Bis scalp shall dry in a Shawnee lodge; that lodge shall be
that of the Vulture of the Shawnee. Ugh i"

Captain Jack was well known along the border. Years
before, he had come to the banks of the J uniata, with his Wife
and daughter, and built him a cabin. For two years he lived
a happy life, subsisting on the game his rifle had brought
down and the corn his own hand had planted. His wife,
tone of those noble women who dared every danger for the
love of the man to whom she had sworn to be true, made his
cabin bright for his coming. Tired of the life in the great'
towns, he moved in a new atmosphere when once in the
forest, and began to love it. But his happiness was not to
continue. At last came an event oiien repeated in these fear-
ful times. He was out hunting on the hills one day, after
'the French had planted their first forts on the lake and French
creek. Miles away upon the mountain, he saw the light of a.
burning dwelling, in the direction of his home. Girding up
his loins, the sturdy hunter ran down the mountain side, and
never staid in his headlong course until he stood above the
the ruins of his once happy home. By the side of the smok-
ing pile lay the body of his dear wire, scalped and bloody.
There were marks of moccasin tracks all about the dwelling,
and he knew that the Indians had been there. But where
was his child?

He ran round about the smoking cabin calling her name.
But the forest only echoed back the pitiful cry. She was
30ml ' ‘

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aside with frantic haste. Perhaps the child lay dead beneath
them. He would rescue her body, at least, and lay it beside
its mother. His search was in vain. When etery timber
had been laid aside, no trace of the little girl could be found.

He went again to the trail, and there, in the soft oil, he
found the marks of her little feet, and knew that she lived,
but a prisoner. The blow was too heavy for him to bear,
and with a passionate cry, the strong man fell beside the body
of his wife, in a dreadful swoon. When he came back to

consciousness, the stars had some out one by one in the sky,‘

and he knew that he was alone. He rose silently, and found a
spade, with which be dug a grave for the wife of his bosom,
sobbing like a child as he laid her to rest beside the silent
river. Above the grave he kn‘clt in the pale moonlight and
registered a vow that he would never spare an Indian upon

' the war-trail.

He kept his oath well. The Indians learned to fear him
and apply to him terrible names. The Shawnees knew him
as the “ Black Hunter of the J uniata,” and the Delawares as
the “ Black Rifle,” and the French as “ Indian Slayer."
These sombre names were given from the fact that his skin

had been tanned by exposure, to the color of a native. To

the whites he was known as Captain Jack, and he held a com-
mission under the colony in that rank. His men were settlers
who dwelt along the Juniata and the Susquehanna, and who,
would gather when the signal was sent among them, as Clan

' Alpine rose at the summons of the fiery cross. .
The Indians never knew I
Now they would be on the

Their movements were rapid.
when. or where to strike them.
banks of the Juniata; again on the Susquehanna, or at Fort/3
Augusta, Franklin or London. They armed themselves with
hunting knives, rifles and hatchets. Their dress was the
buckskin hunting-shirt, leggings and moccasins. Their dur-
ing lives had made them acquainted with every mile of
ground between the two rivers. The inhabitants of the wild
muntry revered the name of Captain Jack as much as the
Frencli_and Indians hated it. He couid speak all the dialects
of the tribes, and had been for many months a prisoner
among the Delawaresffrom whom he escaped by a subtly
conceived stratagems The Governorof Pennsylvania knew

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has been stated, given him a. domxnission under the colony.
“ MatjofWashington is waiting for us, then ?" said this ro-

. t , markable mun, tightening his sword-belt as he spoke.

, “ Yes," replied Gist. “ We shall reach him in an hour.”

' ’ , “ How did you know him ?”

1 “ Don‘t you remember the time I went to Vonnngo with

’ him ? I never saw such a time. It was nlidwiutcr and
fem-fully cold. Three thnes an Ottawa snapped his gun at
him and missed. He pulled once when the gun was not six
inches from his breast, and that boy only looked him in the
eye, in a. cool, contemptuous manner, as if he mocked any
attempt upon his life. 'Then the way he managed Captain

 . ‘ Joncaire and that devil of an agent, La Force. It was really

" ’ . and truly wonderful. He was afraid that the ‘ Half King,’
who was of the party, would get drunk, and make friends
with the French. That Joncaire had tried the game before;

’ Washington kept the chief‘sin the tents all day. but Ln Force
found out that they were with us, and then nothing would do
but they must come to quarters. There they got drunk as
fifers, and one of them danced the war—dance on the (lining-
tnble. You never saw Indians so cut up as they were on the
next day." l

“ What does the Major intend to do ?"

“ I really don’t know. His forces are somewhere below
Great Meadows, and he would come up after you. He has
confidence in the Provincials. This great general, whg is
coming soon, is said to ‘despise us. I hope it is not so.” ‘

I  ‘ the value of the man to the frontier settlements, and had. I

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CHAPTER II.
MYOUNG LEADER.

’. Anon! seven in the evening, the two men came up with
the party of whom they were in search. They consisted of

. four backwoodsmcn, two of whom, being Indian traders.
‘ knew the country between the two rivers. Van Brawe’,"tfii,

  
      
   

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swordsman, and interpreter, and Washington himselii as, V
advanced to meet them with that winning grace, which
characterized him even in early age, and became marked when
no reached manhood. His dress was severe in its simplicity,

. and his arms were the same as those of the men by whom he
was surrounded.

Dinwiddie, knowing the fearless nature of the boy, for he

‘ ‘was but aboy in years, had eagerly accepted his services for
this dangerous enterprise. He was expected to go among

. ~ tribes who were hostile to the English. But he never thought

- ohdanger, in the line of his duty. His, attendants were ‘
chosen with especial care with regard to their skill in WDOd'. ‘
craft, and were brave men, ready to face any danger for"their
young leader. ‘ '

They passed the night upon the bank of the river. At v
early morning the young soldier was upon h'n feet, and ready.
for. his work. He sent two of his men downstream in a
canoe, and with the rest of the party, proceeded on foot.
Gist was uneasy and the young leader saw it, and came to
his side. ‘

“ You are uneasy, Christopher," said he. “ Why is it 1’"

“ I think we are followed,” said Gist. “ I do not like the
warning the Vulture gave us last night.”

“ I do not know the man."

“ He is a chief of the Shawnees, who claim thaland which
Penn. bought. A bloodthirsty savage, trusting to his remarks
able strength. Many of the fearful masacres which have,

shodked the frontier have been ascribedto him, and yet no

' one has been able to say that he saw him in any battle.
This may be ascribed to the fact, that none escape the wea-
pons of the bloody band whose, movements he directs. He
ranges from the 'banks of the Susquehanna to the forks oi
tlle rivers, and woe to any lone Englishman who crosses his
path.” _ . ’

" Did he threaten ?”

’ ’ “ Yes. It is evident that he  been tampered with by
, “we I) I. ' ‘ ’  _
,“ Do you think‘he is dogging us now l”
5 ‘49.; have no. doubt or a. , 0n the watch an night Ihesrd
- r me one stealing abesathecamp. ftdoes not seemiss int“ ,.

1

 

 

 

 

museuman '3'!

eould be him, either. He would not make so much noise.
It might have been some young warrior of his band, who had
not been long upon the war-path.”

They were marching steadily on by the river-side while
they spoke. Washington by the side of Gist; Van Braane,
Indian Slayer, and the other two men bringing up the rear.
Casting his eye across the river as Gist spoke, Washington
caught sight of a gigantic figure upon a bold headland on
the other shore. A single glance convinced him it was the
Indian of whOm they had been speaking. He was leaning
upon his long-bow and gazing moodily across the water at
the party. As he stood there, with the rays of the rising
sun falling upon him, and bringing out the death’s-head upon
his breast in bold relief, he looked like the arch fiend when
addressing the powers of hell.

“ Let the white men hear the words of a great chief. Tum
back! The way to the wigwams of the Half King is long.
and knives and hatchets are growing up. You will cut your
feet if you tread on them.”

“ Shall I shoot the impudent rascal i” asked Captain Jack,

I” . unslinging the rifle at his shoulder. “ I have stood about as

much from him as I will take from any red-skin that ever
walked. Shall I shoot him Y"

“ No," cried Washington, laying his hand upon the arm of
the stern hunter; “ let us not be the first to shed blood. Our
men are too apt to kill without cause ; our enterprise is such
that we can not afford to make enemies.”

“ The Vulture does not fear any thing Captain Jack can
do. If he chose he could whisper something in his ears

_ which would make him much mad! Where is the squaw that

he loved? Where is the little child? Does she play at his
cabin door, as she played when the torch blazed and the
hatchet was dug up ? Ugh l" ‘
The Indian had touched upon a sore spot in the history 0!
the hunter. He had not always been alone. Years before
other feet had pressed the grass beside his cabin on the river.
Sweet lips had welcomed him back from the chase. His with

. and little daughter had made his home happy. Did the

chief know any thingpf them, or had he heard the storyfrorn
“ha up"  r _ 

 

'iaayafié‘gfin; 

r
«A!»
\.

V  m smwuaus' non.

 Wah-ta-ha," he cried, “give me back my child, if she h
in; our hands, and I will be your friend—will make you
rich." ' ' r

Captain Jack is a fool. Would the Vulture give her up to
oman who would shoot him like a dog? Ugh I" .

Captain Jack brought his ride again to his shoulder, cocked
and ready to fire. Wah-ta-ha made no attempt to escape,
knowing that the other was a dead shot. The narrow river '
only separated them and between the two points it would not.
measure titty yards; an attempt at flight was useless. The
finger of the scout was pressing hard upon the trigger, 'when
again Washington stopped him. I ‘

”“ If he knows any thing of your child, W0uld you not lose
the knowledge if you shoot him ?"

Captain Jack lowered his rifle quickly. “ You are right,”

. he said. “My God, if I had fired l ' Speak, and speak freely,
Wah—ta-ha, do you know any thing of my child ?” _ ‘

“ The Vulture is not a child himself,” was the answer; “ he.
will not answer. When the time comes, he has a voice, and, "
can speak. The time is not yet.” , '1 3

L “ Why do you follow us ?” demanded the young major.

. ,“ Can not the Vulture fly where it will? and who shall say
to Wabta-ha, ‘thou shall go no further 1’ Go l You are
young. and you speak to one who has been many years upon
the wanpath.” ‘ _ .

“ Let us leave him,” said Washington; “ he is alone and can
do us no harm." '

,f‘ Wah-ta-ha," shouted the hunter, “ you have made
enemy to-night. I will follow you night and day until I
know all you can say of my child. Remember that the In:
(lieu Slayer is on your track 1"

. A fierce laugh was the only reply, and the party moved 0n.

"‘ We shall hear from that fellow again,” said Gist. \, “Do

‘ ‘ you think he knows any thing of Molly ?” _

“» He does. How else could he learn that she is lost? I.
tell you,,Christopher, I will dog that Indian like his shadow,
when once free from this enterprise. Curse him, curse him l'"
 as he strode away. Then he paused and exclaim'edh j

/ “shall, never know a quiet hour, where I can give 

 Hy shall give up his knowledge of my chil fl *'  

.i
2?;

 

 

 

 

  

  

A now. It

a 1‘ Do ‘not distress yourself, captain," said Washington ;

“ this thing will come out in God’s good time. Have faith in
mm.»

“ I have faith; I do trust Him," replied the hunter. “ We
are rough men in the forest; perhaps our religion savors of the
woods and hills, but we all acknowledge a Supreme control-
ling power. I have trusted it all these years, but until today
I have never seen my child, nor heard her name spoken by
human lips; my darling Molly.”

“ How old was she Y”

“ Six years; she must be more than sixteen now, a woman,
if she lives. I should not know her, and I never loved a being
in my time as I loved her. Let us say no more of it now, sir;
it can not make the matter any better.”

They camped that night at the fall of the river waiting for
the canoes and baggage, for they had reached the fork first.
Indian Slayer kept guard, for he was restless, thinking of the
words of the Vulture. The stars came out one by one in the
clear sky, beaming upon the sleeping figures of the party

/with a softened light. On either side flowed the rivers, and

in front the broad Susquehana started on its errand to join its
mighty father, the Atlantic. In the forest beyond rose the
shrill cry of the panther, roaming forth in search of prey.
All these were familiar sights and sounds to Captain Jack,
they fell upon the ear, but roused no more thought than the
sighing of the wind in the branches.
‘ All at once his ears were greeted by a new sound; it seemed
as if a stick had beeen broken under a heavy tread. The next
moment all was still as death—unnaturally still, he thought.
The hunter took up his rifle and looked to the priming, giving
no other sign that he had heard the noise.

In a short time he heard it again, a stealthy crawling sound
of footsteps stirring the dry leaves. Then it ceased again,

a and he listened in vain for a repetition.

“ If that is an Indian,” muttered the hunter, “ he deserves
to be sent home to his squaws. For making half as much
noise as that I would lick Josh within an inch of his life. I
must find out what this means. What if the bloody thieves
“outlying for the canoes? I’ll wake Chris.” H

-Touching.vthe ‘ guide, who always slumbered lightly, he

 

  

 

explainedin s2 waper what was: wanted, new“; amu- ~ '  I

knife and hatchet, stepped over the edge of the bank andbe
to crawl in the direction from whence the sound had come
Ho's foot made no sound in the forest leaves; a cat could not
have crawled more carefully upon its prey than the expert
backwoodsmau. He knew that the hidden enemy was lying

somewhere in the bushes, looking in upon the camp. What ”

if it was the Vulture? His heart gave a great bound at the
,. thought, and then became still again, for he knew that the
* Vulture was too skillful to break sticks in the woods. An In '
dian feels his way as Cautionst as a shadow.

The advance of Captain Jack was made upon his hands
and knees, feeling with his hand and clearing every inch of
ground before he set his foot upon it. As he approched a
thicket of low bushes, near the place from which the sound
proceeded, he found his course stopped bya fallen log. Drop- '
ping cautiously upon his knees, he raised his head carefully
above the log‘and looked into the copse. The first object: '
seen were a pair of moccasined feet protruding from beneath- ’
the bushes: No longer doubting, he retreated as cautiously as
he had come and gave Gist the signal agreed upon between
them. As soon as Gist heard the signal, he too arose, and
followed in the track of his companion; he found him seated
upon a log near the riverside. " 7 L

“ What have you found ‘9” whispered Gist, with hislipeto the '
ear of the other. . .

“ An Indian.”

“ Where 1’"

He pointed to the thicket.

“ Shall we take him 1"

a Yes.» ‘ ,

They made up a plan of operations, and then set out on the
slow pilgrimage toward the thicket. Inch by inch they crawled

forward, and looking over the log, Christopher saw the moceao ' 5/

filled feet. ‘
“ A big fellow I” he muttered. ' ‘
In the same cautious manner that had charagterized their
progress up to this moment, the two men crossed the log, first;
taking off their'moccasins in order to step'more carethlly'.‘ '

The moccasin under the bushes did» not~stir,nneh1n-m \ '7‘

O "

112 mW’ m ‘

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‘ ' H. . nu.“ you. {give you fair warning, in the morning, as soon

  

, canon.

 o! the guide. At the 193 they separated, and advanced
upm opposite sides; when nearer, they could see that the
prostrate form was wrapped in a blanket, and kept quiet,
until they approached within five or six feet, when Captain
, Jack held up his hand as a signal for the other to stop. He
didso and the next moment was started bya sound, more
rastonisblng to him than a bullet would have been, a loud
' and unmistakable more.
An Indian asleep on the war-path ! A moral and physical
impossibility. Both men flung themselves upon the sleeper,

. and grasped him by the arms and legs. The snore was,

changed into a yell of terror, and a voice, which was that of
the redoubtable Josh, shouted.
“ Git 03‘! Let npl Dod rot ye, g’way from me now i”
Grasping him by the neck, Captain Jack dragged his pris~
One: into the circle of light made by the camp-tire. There,
“ One stupid moment motionless he stood,“
when his mouth opened in the most astounding and odd may
edictions. The whole camp started in amazement. It was
-a singular spectacle. In the center of the camp stood poor
Josh, shaking like an aspen leaf, still collared by the irate
guide, who was venting his spleen upon him in no measured
tones; Gist, in silent amazement holding up his .hands;
Washington, an amused spectator; Van Braene Venting
Dutch expletives against the unlucky wretch who had broken

'7 his rest.

“ You white-headed, mealy-mouthéd monkey i” cried DCap-
‘tain Jack. “ You fat ape! You great elephant! Do you
know what I will do with you? I’ll lace you with hickories

: until the blood runs down to your very heels. Can't you speak,

Can’t you tell what you mean, by crawling
’Twould have served you right

I would, but I thought it was
Why

you whelp?

round a camp in the night?

if I, had put a bullet into you.

an honest Injin. If I had only known it was you!
‘_d0n’t you speak 1”

“ Why, don’t you let me i" howled poor Josh, goaded to
madness by the words of .the other. “Who kin speak. when
N mouth is open 1’"

“Ward, now you kin speak; begin! And don’t lie to me. _

 

  

 

 
 

m stemmed son

I

'5 '1 0311 See 00 pick out a good stout hickory. Noun,“ m-‘ ~. . '

you doing here i" ,.

“ I follered you.” ,

“Oh, you did. Now perhaps you will be good enough to
, tell me what you follered me for? 0h, won’t I lace you» in
the morning, you young rat 1 Won’t I, though? ‘ Maybe
notl" ’

“ If you talk that way, darned ef I say a word,” cried Josh.
“ I ain’t a-goin‘ to take it from no one. I followed you cause
I wa’nt a-gpiu’ to stay up there in the cabin and be sculped
by Indians while you was gone. I s‘pose you think’I ain’t /
got no feelin‘, don’t you?
then laugh over it, couldn’t 1? Oh, you are a nice feller,you
are l”

“ You hear that," cried the captain. “ I left this fellow to I
take care of my traps, durn his hide, and you see the ingrati-‘
tude of the beast. N at only does he leave my things to take -
care of themselves, but he comes to the camp in the night,
tramping about like a mad ox, breaking sticks enough for a
whole army of buffaloes, and making me crawl and snealo
after him for two hours, thinking it was Indians. Don’t he'
need a lacin’, bust him? He'll. git it, tho'ugh.” .

“ How long have you been following us, my boy?” asked ,
Washington, in a mild tone, which cooled Josh down'at on‘ce.“
“Ever sense he went away: Chris come to the cabin fur
him, and I went arter him to the (leer-lick. for I knowed who:
he was. I skeered away his deer, and he had to lick me for
that, rot him. Then, when he went away I was setting in'
the door, crying, when it came into my head to'sneak after
him and never let him know I was after him till he got'so,
far away‘he couldn‘t end me back. And I (16:10 it, rot him!

He kin lick me, but I done it 1"

Captain Jack gave him a hearty culi‘, which sent him recl-
ing. To the surprise of every one,'the boy gave back the"
cuff with all his mightI and then climbed a' tree so' quickly _ ,
that the guide could not catch him. This was his refuge. I"
When he had committed any unusual act against Captain ,
Jack, he climbed a tree until his anger had time to evaporate, I '
knowing well that. he would never take the trouble to chilly

.:£. \ u

  

 

Could stand to be skulped turd" ’ ‘1

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

an em anon. n

“ What shall we do with him P" said Washington. “ It il
an amusing incident, but will he be able to hear the hardship
he must encounter if he goes on with us P” '

“ No trouble about that.” said Captain Jack. “ He is an
awkward, bloating calf, but he is tough. He can stand as

.much as any body."

“ We may make him useful.”

“ Yes he can cook. Whatever got into him though, to fol-
low us, I can’t say. And to think of him striking me back!
Come down here, you monkey l"

“ Won’t you lick me, then ?”

“ Not this time."

The boy who placed implicit confidence in the word of
the hunter, quitted his perch and slowly descended the tree.

 

JHAPTER III.
THE MARCH.

THE forces of Washington lay at this time upon Wills’
Creek, now the Cumberland. They numbered one hundred
and sixty men. Before them lay a dreary wilderness, bearing
the somber name of the Shades of Death. On the 9th of
May they were at a place called ,FJitt-le Meadows, twenty miles
from the Cumberland.

The march of the small detachment under Washington was
directed to this spot. On the way, Captain Jack dispatched
a messenger to arouse his men and bring them to the rendez-
vous at Great Meadows.

The day after they left the river, Indian Slayer came to the
major with a. countenance expressing much concern.

“ we are in danger, sir,” he said.

“ How so," asked thevyoung leader, in an eager tone.

, Indian Slayer exhibited a. small black (u'osa, carved in a
curious manner.

“ What is that ?” demanded Washington.

“ I picked it up on the path just now. You may filk

\

 

n

I ‘ m mm '01.

what it means. It means that Indians have passed over this
ground within the hour. If you ask me still further how I
know this, I reply that the tracks by the side of this were
fresh. If you say that a friendly Indian may have dropped it,
I reply that none but an Indian who has been under the influ-
ence of a cunning priest of the Canadas would cut out such:
thing as that."

Washington bowed in token of his entire assent. The ex-
perience of the guide was not for him to dispute, if he had
been so inclined.

“ Can you judge how many had passed the spot ?” he said.

“ Forty, at least."

“ Have you any idea who they were Y”

“ I have, sir; when Christopher and I met the Vulture in
the morning this cross hung at his breast. The Vulture is our
enemy to the death; he is mine at least, and it will go hard if
I do not come out best in the encounter."

“ Was all the party who have passed us Indians, or were
they part French ?"

“ All Indians, sir, and Shawnees. There is a manifest dif-
ference in the manner of making moccasins among the tribes,
and this is a Shawnee footprint 1 have seen. What shall we
do 1’"

“ Do you think they will attack us ?"

That depends upon whether they consider themselves strong
enough. Here we are six determined men, well armed, anda
match for any twenty red-skins that ever walked the earth.
You see I don’t count tow-head at all. though if he was
cornered he would make the fur 11v some. I’ve always
noticed that a coward will try to escape when there is a half

chance for getting away; but fix him so that he can’t run, ‘

and he will fight like the very devil. A coward is the worst
kind of a man in such a case.” _
“ You are right," said Washington, with a slight smile; “ I

hope my young friend will not be called upon to exert himsell V

in any such way. He is a capital cook. as I am ready‘to
testify, after the way in which he handled the frying pan in
preparing breakfast. How do you propose to elude theae In-
dians P”

“ I should not do any thing of the kind. If we her on

 
   
 

 

 

 

   
   
  

    

 

 

 

you: m

our course and dodge the thickets, I doubt if they will dare
attack us. We must keep our rifles ready, however."

Even as he spoke a rifle cracked, and Josh, clapping his
hands on that part which was described by the hunter as the
“ cellar-kitchen ” ot‘his “ lcggins," bounded into the air with a
perfect howl of agony.

“ Oh, I’m hit, I'm hit l” he shouted. “ Dod rot that Injin;
shoot. him, Jack, shoot him, for I’m dead as a split herring."

“Get up, you young ape,” cried the guide, pricking the
youngster with the point of his knife. “ You ain‘t hurt."

“ I am,” thundered the irate youngster; “I'm hit right
under there,” touching the injured part.

“ It was a chip that hit him,” said Gist.
this fellow, Jack; there's only one."

The party, with true hunter‘s instinct, had covered their
bodies from another shot by the nearest bush or tree. Gist
and the Indian Slayer stole off to the right and lefl, and at-
tempted to capture the outlying savage, who had fired at.
them. But the fellow retreated immediately alter the shot;
they found the nest warm, but the bird flown.

“ILook to your arms," said Captain Jack, as he returned.
“ We shall have them all about us in a few minutes. Gist
and I will go in front and beat the bushes; you will come
slowly on, keeping out of the beaten path. As for you,Josh,
when you are done howling, take your gun and come along;
or if you like that position best, why stay there; I doh’t
mind.” .

With these words, he dashed off upon the trail and pressed
on into the bushes. Here the two scouts arranged their sig-
nals. The Indians were on the alert; the whites could hear

“ Let's look utter

' shrill calls on every hand, and knew their enemies were

closing in upon them, and that a desperate struggle might be
near.

Crawling like a snake, with rifle ready for instant action,
the bold hunter caught sight of the crouching form of an In-
dian, raising his rifle to fire. Thought was not quicker than
the aim of Captain Jack, and the stream of mingled flame
Ind smoke burst from the muzzle of the deadly piece, just as
the Indian, pruned the trigger. An Indian is rarely a good
marksman, and the bullet whistled wide of the mark, lodging

 

   

to, run mms' mu.

ius'tree some distance to the right of the hunter; hut M
bullet found its mark; it pierced the brown breast, and with m
shriek of mortal agony which echoed far and wide among the
hills, the warrior threw up his arms and fell a corpse upon the
sod.

“ One more l" said the avenger, as he coolly commenced
reloading his rifle. This done, he hurried to the spot, and
looked down upon his prostrate foe. He was a hrawny fel-
low, in the prime of life, bearing the feathered plume of a.
Shawnee chief: Glancing down at the leggings of the fallen
man, the dark brow of the hunter contracted, and he spat
upon the upturned face. The leggings were fringed with
long hair, which had grown upon the head of a woman:-

“He deserved his death,” muttered the implacable Indian-
hater, as he hounded away into the forest. The death-cry of
the chief had called together other members of the hand, and
before he had gone a hundred yards, the scalp~cry was raised

'above the dead body. Hearing Gist signal to return, he went
cautiously back upon the trail, and found the other lying he-
hind a log. '

“ Down !" he whispered.

The hunter fell as if shot, and not a moment too soon, for
a rifle-shot raised the hair upon his head, going tlrough and
through the coon-skin cap he wore.

,“ Look out I" whispered Gist. “ It is the Vulture.
knows better than he how to shoot."

The other set his teeth hard, as he peered anxiously out
toward the spot where the smoke of the rifle was rising.
Then, as if impelled by a sudden impulse, he bounded over
the log, and flung himself upon the prostrate form of the
Vulture, who, anticipating no such movement, was taken en-
tirely by surprise. Confident in his superior strength, the
chief rolled over on his back, and flung his arms about the
white man. But, the hunter, though not so tall as the Indian
by half a head, made up in muscle what he lacked in size,
and grappled with the Indian in as powerful a grasp as his
own. But before either could strike a stroke, Gist was in the
oopse, holding a knife to the throat of the Indian.

No one

“Dare to wimp”, even,” he cried, in the Shawnee  1

“ Ind I “will cut your threat from ear totem.” . r

     

  

 

 
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 

    

 
 

 

 
   
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
 

 

  

A 2mm.

" Let up,” said Wah-ta-ha. “ Me walk woola."

“ Shall we kill him i” said Captain Jack. a

“ Where is the daughter of the White Hunter ?” demanded
the Indian, in a mocking tone. “ Does he ever wish to see
her face again? It was a beautiful child. Her hair was like
sunshine, and her voice like the music of running waters.
Does the father wish to lose her forever? Let him kill Wah-
ta-ha, and it is done. He will never see her face."

“ Listen, Wah-ta-ha,” said the agonized father.
me one question. Does the child live '2"

“ She lives."

“ Where is she ?”

“ Find her.”

“ I will kill you if you do not answer.”

“ The Vulture is no fool. You dare not kill him."

“ Give me your belt," said the hunter, with a groan. " We ,
must bind him and take him to Washington. He will serve
as a safeguard for the rest.” ' I

A stick about three feet long was passed behind the back
of the savage, and to this his arms were firmly bound. They
had hardly gone a hundred rods, when they met the party of
Washington, who started in surprise and joy when they saw
whom they had as a. prisoner. The moment the Indian saw
Washington, he demanded something, speaking the Shawnee
tongue. > '

“ What does he say ?" ‘

“ He asks you to set him at liberty, or shoot him through

“ Answer

the head. One great chief can not bear to see another in

bondage."

‘.‘ Ask him if a great chief lies in wait in the path of a
friend, and tries to take his life with powder and ball. It is
hard to throw dust in the eyes of the English.”

“, Wah-ta-ha is a great chief,” replied the Indian, with a look
of lofty pride. “ He does not hide like a snake in the grass.
When the young chief rested by the riverside, he warned
him that the way was long, and that knives and hatchet:
would grow upon the trail. What could the chief do more ‘P

' ’Pae Vulture is not a friend of the English.” -

, “ Who fired that shot 9” said Washington. in e low-tone,
m to the Indian-slayer. . - .- . ~ 3

  

 

m mwm Ion.

" I did.”
“ What did you fire at ?"
Captain Jack lifted his hand for silence.

From the woods
in front rose the strange, weird, wailing cry which the In<

dians raise over one of their party who is slain. Wah-tn‘ha
started and eagerly erected his head, for he knew the sound
too well.

“ I hear it,” said Washington.
the war-cry."

“ No," replied the hunter.
nee. I shot him.”

“ Then it is war to the knife.”

“ Yes."

The Indian listened to the cry for some moments. When
he spoke again, there was no trace of anger in his voice. '

“One of my young men is dead," he said. “No matter.

“What is it? It is not

a

“ It is the death-cry of a Shaw-

He will go to the happy hunting-grounds of his fathers before ,

us. Let him pass. What will my brother do with me ?"

“ Why did you waylay us i" ,

“ We are the children of Onontio,” replied the sagamore.
“ We can not be the children of more than one father.
Onontio has told us to take up the hatchet against the English.
We have done so, because we love our father Onontio. The
gray-head of the Iroquois, Captain Joucaire, has told us to
do this, and we love him so well that we do as he says." a

“ What reason can you give us why we should not kill you
upon the spot ‘3"

“,It is not the custom of the English to kill their prison-
ers,” replied the wary chief. .

“ You are not my prisoner. You were taken by the Jr:-
dian-Slqyen Do you not know that he spares none ?” ’

“ The White Hunter dares not lay a finger upon me.
hair of my head will not fall to the ground by his hand."

Washington looked at Captain J'ack.

“It is so,” he said. “The fate of my daughter is in his
Mn 0

“Does he know where she i, then?

“ Yes, but he will not tell. But, there is no time to waste. '
he km of every man hang upon his. I give you my "
'Indlsnnmetortheaemeletm, . , i

A

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, prisoner.

  

‘ A nosnen. as

If he resists or tries to'escape, run him through
thebody. Or, stay—let me talk to him."

He planted himself in front of the savage.

“ We are going on,” he said, “ and Gist will walk by your
side. Call aloud to your chiefs and make them hear you.
We want a talk."

The chief uttered a series of shrill cries, which brought
some of the outlying band to the edge of the wood. ‘

“ Tell all to keep back except the chiefs," said Captain t-
Jack. '

The Vulture scowled upon him, but obeyed. In a short
time, four men came out of the woods, and understanding
the motions of their chief, came forward fearlessly, and spoke
to the Vulture in the Indian tongue, which Indian-Slayer un-
derstood.

“ Why is this l’” demanded the foremost. “ Has the Vul-
ture lost his cunning? Why is it that we see bonds upon
hirarms l?"

“The claws of the Vulture are cut,” replied his captor.
“ His wings are clipped. He will fly no more."

The chiefs regarded him steadily, and the Vulture spoke
hurriedly to his subordinates. But the hunter stopped him
in the midst of his speech. '

“ See I” said he, placing his knife-point at the breast of the
chief. “ Here is the knife and here lies the heart of the
Vulture. We will pass on our way through the forest. If
we go safely, all will be well; but if a rifle speaks, or a
stick breaks, the knife will go home. It will not be the hand
of the White Hunter that kills the Vulture of the Shawnees.
It will be the Shawnees themselves.”

The chiefs bowed, to intimate that they understood. The
chief was the hostage for the safety of the party.

“ Go," said the Vulture, “ and let the Great Spirit put it

to your hearts to do what is right. Here are many sealps,
which would look well in the lodges of Shawnee braves. I
am but one. If the Shawnees can spare me, let the braves
do their best, and shed the blood of those who will shed
, mine. I am not very old, but men follow me to battle who
rhaye been years upon the trail. But my scalp: count more
than theirs. if I'die,apaakte the,an fathers,and say

 

  

     
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
    
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

rm: smwnns’ FOE.

that the Vulture died like a man, for the sake of Father
p Onontio. Go, my children, and do as the Great Spirit puts
‘ it into your hearts."

The chiefs drew their blankets over their heads, in token
'of sorrow, and with sad faces, paced slowly away. The
1 chief who was left looked alter them until they disappeared
i in the forest. Then, drawing himself up proudly, he waited,
' confident .that all would be according to the Great Spirit's
will.

0 H A P T E R Iv. ‘ ~ *
'rms YULTUBE UBES HIS PINIONS AGAIN.

Momma cries echoed through the forest, and receded,
telling that the Indians, obeying the words of the chleib,
were slowly and reluctantly drawing off from the trail, sooner
then put the life of their famous chief in peril. He heard
the sounds with bowed head, and an expression of pain upon
his face. The proud chief was nearly broken-hearted. He r i
had been taxen by his worst enemy; outwitted in a moment ’
when his toils were closing like the coils of a. serpent and '
his enemy already felt the pressure.

The party went on in this order: First came the redoubt- _

able hunter, with his trusty rifle in his hands, ready for inr ‘ '*
stant action. Next came the Vulture, bound as before.'
Behind him came Gist, holding his knife ready to spring upon
the chief and dispatch him, if any alarm could be heard‘
from the band, who were doubtless lurking in the thickets on!
every side. Next came Washington, Van Braane, Josh, the
two woodmen, each with his rifle on a trail,‘following in In‘
dian file.

Their course lay through a country broken by mountain
ridges, running in all directions—a country almost impassa-’
hie toone not knowing the route; but the hunter and Gist .
knew every foot of ground, and had traversed it dozens of , :
time. \ .
When night came, they haduossed the rim known I H

 

 

 

 

 

 
  

' steep as as to render approach very ditflcult.

  

- . A, m. as

(hatiemcns, and camped upon the western slope of the moun-
tains, near Elk Lick. It was a wild and romantic spot which
they chose for a camp. Upon the wooded bank of the creek
rose the slope of the mountain, tier on tier. The place they

' had chosen was a bare, green spot upon the mountainside,

ending abruptly in a precipice, dropping for more than thirty
feet into the grassy meadow below. No enemy could ap-
proach from that side, and upon the other the ascent was so
The militr; y
capacityot' Washington was indicated thus early in his career,
and a discreet fee would have hesitated long before assailing
the position. They made their arrangements for the night,
and then’lay down to rest, leaving the two hunters, who reso-
lutely rethsed to sleep, to guard the prisoner, who had lain
.aown, bound as he was, and at once fell into a sleep. Cap.
tain Jack sat down at the root of a single tree which grew in the
midst of the open space, laid his rifle against his knees, and
waited for...what might come. ,

The night passed slowly. The recumbent figures at his
'feet did‘fiot stir, and he fell into a sort of doze. The bound
Indian about the hour of midnight stirred and raised his
head from the earth as the cry of a loon came up from the
slream below, answered from time to time by like cries farther
down the stream. The savage simply erected his head for a
moment and then allowed it to sink again to ,the earth, not
showing that he noticed them again for hours.

About two in the morning, when the senses of all men are
locked in slumber, the dark form of an Indian rose above the
edge of the precipice and looked in upon the sleeping camp.
The tree against which the single watcher sat was between
him and the spy, whose movements were cautious as those of
a cat. The hunter, in taking his position to watch the camp,

' had never dreamed that the Indians would come up the almost

perpendicular face of the rock. But several low spruces,
which grew upon the mountainside, had furnished a ladder
by which to make the ascent to a small ledge, from which the
top was easily reached. . ‘

.  Once at’the top of the ascent, the spy fell prostrate and

{crawled-like a serpent 'toward the bound chief. Hehad

stripped himself to thebreech cloth, and was armed with a knits.

    
  

  

  
     
 
  
 
 
   
  
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
    

‘u m mwam’ so:

Keeping the tree still between him and th’e watchful ham-
or, whom he feared more than any other man on earth, the
Indian reached the side of his chief. Stooping over the body,
he made two or three quick passes with the knife, and was
rising, when he found himself in the iron grasp of the hunter.
Not a word was spoken on either side as the two men
joined in a deadly grapple. The Indian had dropped his
0 knife, so that it was entirely a question of manhood between
the two. Such a combat could not last long. The Indian,
though lithe and active, was as a child in the hands of the
hunter. For a time he eluded the grasp, stripped of his
clothing as he was. But closing again, Captain Jack wrest.th
his muscular arms about his body, litted him from the ground,
and sent him crashing down through the tree-tops to the bed
of the creek, thirty feet belowl This done, he turned to face
a new foe, the Vulture! His bonds had been cut by the spy
before the hunter seized him, and he had been strengthening
his lithe limbs and getting back circulation in his long arms, ‘
where the cords had stopped the flow of blood. _ ’ v V
They did not waste words in fruitless recriminations, but ' '
seized each other by the shoulder and the wrist. By this
time the camp was roused, and every man ran to his arms.
The first sight which greeted the gaze of Washington was the
Indian-Slayer struggling upon the bank of the precipice with
the savage, in the full light of the rising moon. So rapid
were the movements of the struggling men, that it was (m:
possible to aid the white man or to fire. The desperate chief, a. ‘ *
knowing that he could not break away the iron grasp of the t 
Indian-Slayer, was struggling backward, with all the power
of his muscular frame, designing to drag the other down the
steep face of the rock. ‘ His own recordwas such that he ‘
had little to hope for if he remained a. prisoner in the hands '

of the whites, and he prepared to die like a brave warrior, if d,
need be. I . ,
It was a desperate struggle. Neither had an inch thead- , ‘* ' "

vantage in point of strength, and the superior training efthe "
hunter only gave him the odds. In spite of that, ,when the A
,party sprang to their arms, the two men were uttering up
'on the very brink of the gulf down. which the savage.

that moment been 'hurlod. 

 

my

4

 

\
l

' the chief had indeed escaped.

, arm

 

M.

_ “,Qan’t we help i” cried Gist.
destroy them both."
The struggle continued. The Indian-Slayer dragged his

I?
“My God, that devil will

 enemy a little away from the precipice, and seemed safe.

But by a superhuman effort, the Indian regained the lost
ground. A moment more, and they went down into the
darkness, locked in, that fearlhl embrace.

‘ “ Torches i" cried Washington, springing to the tire. Each
man provided himself with a firebrand and hurried down to
the bed of the creek. A few moments’ search showed them
the Indian-Slayer lying bloody and senseless at the water
edge. While Washington and Josh, the latter blubbering
like a baby, raised the prostrate hunter, and bathed his bruis-
ed and bleeding forehead in the water of the running stream,
Gist raged like a lion up and down in search of the Vulture.
But the wily savage had not even waited to scalp his pros-

! irate foe, who, in falling, had struck his head against a pro-
[eeting fragment of rock. The shrill calls which had been

“heard before were redoubled in violence and soon assumed a

cheerful sound. And in about half an hour the forest was
alive with yells of joy, as it became known to the band that

V The white men looked in

‘ vain for the young warrior who had been hurled from the
dim at the beginning of the tray. The tree tops had broken
his fall and enabled him to escape, by the aid of his chiefs

' e elastic constitution of the hunter soon enabled him to

recover from the stunning effect of the blow he had received

,from the savage, and he rose to his feet. When he under-

stood that the Vulture had escaped, his anger knew no

bounds. He vowed to follow him, when he had done service
for Washington, and make him account for his lost child.
‘ Gist borrowed a sash from the major, and bonnd up the

" bleeding brow of his friend,_.using a weed now well known

, as possessing rare medicinal properties. The party then re-
turned to the top of the hill and sat down in consultation.
I “ Shall we shin our quarters i" said Washington “ What

  your opinion, captain i”

_ " Such as it is you mwaleome to it. Alter to-night {shall
am so little conceit that I should say my  Jqlh would

 

      
     
      
   
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
 
   
    
  
 
 
   

Q

r

88‘ m sinwms’ mm

give you better counsel than the man who was fool enough to
let the Vulture escape. And yet it wasn't my fault so much.‘
Who would have thought the devil would come climbing up
that cliff ? I was looking the other way, and never saw him
until he was stooping over the chief. He went down the
clitl' faster than he came up. Not much credit in that either,
for I went down quite as fast and got hurt worse than he.
Josh i if you don’t quit gawping at me and turn your platter-
face another way, I will throw a stone at you.

“ We are waiting for your opinion, captain."

“Oh i I beg pardon. My opinion is that you will do quite
as well to stay where you are. The Indians are thick in the
woods and we have lost our passport. The Vulture will be
savage for blood, and will make us rue the hour we put him
into bonds."

“ Your advice, then—”

" Is to stay here until morning, and send one of us to the‘

camp at Little Meadows and bring up the rangers to‘ you!
help. The boys will come up in three hours. It is omy a
little over twelve miles."

“ But what shall we do in the mean time ?"

“This rock is a fortress. All the French and Indians in
America could not drive you out. Take my advice. Here
are loose stones lying about. Build up a hreastwork upon
this side toward the woods, and you are safe. That is my
opinion. But, as I said before,I am ready to bow to the
superior knowledge of Josh, if you hear his opinion.”

“ Mr. Gist,” said Washington, turning to the trader, “ your
opinion will be of service.” '

“I agree perfectly with the captain in this matter. He\

should know better than I, but it strikes me his plan is the
best that could be adopted. It is now two o’clock or more.
One of us, provided there is no interruption, could run into
Little Meadows in two hours.
more than half an hour to get ready to come down here, and
then three hours will bring them in.”

Washington glanced round the little circle, and read up-
proval of the plan in every eye. ‘ h
“ The question now is, who shall goff’ , _
“Let Josh try it,” said the immovable hunter. " ‘ ' "

It won’t take the Virginianl'

 

 

. w‘ “4-. 4 .

m, {a

 
   
    

 

 

 

    

AN ml) 0) DANGER.

' You git wt,” was the reply.
“ He can be spared best."

I “I don't want to be spared. How you gmin’ to git along
'thout me? I shan't go down there. I don’t know the way.”

“ There is fresh meat at the Meadows. Smell your way
there."

“ Lcan’t go," cried Josh, in the greatest possible terror. I
won't go. I‘m sick, I'm aujful sick. You don‘t know what
gm.in I got now. Don't make a t'ellcr go'wheu he’s so sick,"
sohbed the boy, almost, in tears.

“ Enough of this,” said Washington. “ Be quiet, boy!

Who is to go ?"
' The Indian-Slayer rose and began to button his belt about
him. But a generous rivalry rose between him and Gist.
The trader was determined that his friend should not brave
the danger of the forest alone. But he was persuaded by the
reasoning of the scout.

“ If I am laid by the heels, the major can't get on without
your help. There is as much danger, yes, and more too, stay
ing, than going down to the Meadows. You must not stir
Take care of that blubbering boy with such awful pains about
him, and bring him safe to Little Meadows. He will make
a first-rate cook for the boys when they come down from the
Juniztta. When you hear the night-hawk cry twice and an
owl-hoot thrice against the western ridge, you may know
that. I have made my way to the river. It" you hear the owl
first, I will be in danger." '

The daring nmn'lowercd himself over the face of the clitf
and stepped into the shadow of the trees. They listened in
breathless anxiety for half an hour and no new sound reached
their ears out of the stillness ot' the forest. Satisfied that the
Indian-Slayer would do all for the best, they set to work
building the barricade. While still at the work, they heard

, the cry of the hawk from the western ridge, followed by three

whoops of the horned owl.
. . ,“ ,He is safe," said Washington.
' There was silence for a few minutes, and then the signal
we‘repeated, reversed. The signal of danger] . v
“ Oaathat be the hunter?” IaidWashington. “He should
erased the river before now.”

\

to m mwms’ Ion. ' ‘
“ It came from the other side,” replied Gist, in an angry
. tone. “ I wonder what snag he has fouled now. There he
goes again.” A ' .
The signal was repeated with startling vehemence, but
further away, and then Ceased altogether. With a sigh,
Christopher Gist turned back to the barricade, and went to
work like a man. Before morning a breastwork better than
that which covered our fathers at Bunker Hill ran round the
crest of the hill upon three sides.
“ Oh for provisidns,” said Washington, “ and I would defy

the Indians. It is a perfect beauty of a place. Now then, ‘

my brave Virginians, come as soon as you may.” V
“ I hope Jack is not taken,” said Gi-it, looking on his work
with satisfaction alloyed by the danger of his friend. “ The

brave fellow will do any thing for hi) friends. I have known '

that man for twenty years, sir, and until his wife was murder-
ed, there never was a man so full of the milk of human kind-

ness. It crops out of him now, in his intercourse with his ’

fellow-men and with Josh. But over all, is an intense hatred
of the race who have robbed h‘m of a wife and‘ child. For“
ten years, he has not heard ' word of that child until the
chief spoke of it yesterday." , '

“ Do you think she is a prisoner yet 1'”

“ Yes. Since the chief spoke, I have suspected him of
being the man who murdered his wife and stole the child.” ‘

“ It may be so. Here, sir,” addressing Josh. “ If you
have so far recovered from pain as to be able to do it, you
may cook some of that venison for breakfast.” '

Josh rose nimbly, rekindled the fire which had burned low v .

during the work of the morning, and proceeded to broil some
Venison-steak, cut from a haunch which was carried on the
pack-horse since the day before. The boy had made‘ cooking
a study, and when he placed the'corn-bread and venison be-
fore the hungry men, they were cooked to a charm. When

breakfast was over and the table cleared away, which clear-7 '

lng consisted in throwing the pieces of bark which had been

used as plates over the cliii‘, the party looked to their; arms -

Ind 'out intojhe woods for the Indians. ,
From the night upon which the barricade was placed,
' they had ,4 pretty good View of several miles of country, but

 
   
     

 

 

    
 

 

 

u town. ‘1

u it was thickly wooded, down to the very edges of the
creeks and rivers, an army might have been concealed be-
neath the branches for all they knew to the contrary.

In the midst of the woods, a hundred rods away, rose one
of the huge boulders which we see so often in the mountains
of Pennsylvania and all other States through which the
Alleganys run, so high that a ragged brown point appeared
above the trees. As Washington and Gist stood together he-
hind the barricade, a solitary figure appeared upon this
strange perch, and stood with folded arms, looking down into
their camp. A single glance convinced them that it was the
.Vulture. His atttitude was noble and commanding, as he
stood statue-like, a monarch in his native woods.

“ If that boulder were a little nearer,” said Gist, upon whom
the grandeur of the scene was entirely lost, “ yonder painted
110qu would have a fall from his perch. A loping, scalping,
murdering devil that he is. Now he has gone up there to spy
out our weak points, and he can do it as safely as if there
was no such a thing as a rifle in the forest.”

The days of Minie, Sharp, and Spencer had not yet come.
Christopher Gist, who would have considered it a fair achieve-
ment to hit an Indian at a hundred and fifty yards, would
not have dreamed that a gun could be made which would, in
skillful hands, be certain death at a thousand.

V The Vulture occupied his elevated perch until he had made
' out all he desired in regard to the camp, and then suddenly
disappeared from view. .

“ He will know that the Indian-Slayer is gone,” said Wash-
ington. “ Do you think he will attack us ?”

“ I don’t know. He is a bold fellow, and the fact that the
Indian-Slayer—(Wild Hunter, or any of the strange names
they give to J ack)——is out of the way, will be one thing in
favor of attack. But again, an Indian dislikes to try a forti-
fied position.”

“ Ba i” cried Washington. “ Whom have we here 1’”

» Two men had parted the bushes and were coming reso-
. luter up the hill. One was the Vulture. The other was a
"flute man, with a white flag flung across his arm.

 

    

CHAPTER V.
THE INTERVIEW.

The two advanced fearlessly until halted by the summer“
of Gist, when the while mun enlled out for a parley under
the ting. He vms a. light, active-looking fellow, with a hund-
eome thee. rendered rather disagreeable by a’perpetunl sneer;
he was dressed in a plain forest cestmne, with the ' exeeption
Of a handsome belt about his waist, in whicu hung suspended
the triangular rapier worn by'the French at this. period.
Washington intimated that he might gdvance, which he gid
with the ntmost coolness. ' ' ' ' ‘

' “‘ You know the seoundrel,” whiepered Gist.

‘5 Yes ; 'Iéhould no?t be likely to'fbrget‘Jeati La, M99 in, a
hurryO-’,- . ...A<".l t in >”- n‘v' ' ‘ ’ ‘ "V

“ Ben jour, monsienr,” said the volatile Frenchmen, lenpi'ng
lightly over the barricade, followed in u more pedate manner
by his companion. “ I uni truly charmed to see you; I hgye

iiot'hed that 'supreme pleiiéure since you end' your. honored  ‘

find'brzive companion paid us, a little Visit ut'Vena‘ngo. ,Iam
truly chm-med to meet you once more.” 

’ Jenn Lu' Force was one of those powerful characters whom
the French sent over' to uphold their tottering. "pov'ver in
America. Like La Salle, Hennepin and others of that ptathp

'he 'hn‘dflwen edttcutefl at the College of the Jesuits; but tie

cliuing to follow their profession, he undertook the dint): of In 4
diam-agent. In connection with the gray-haired and wily

Jeneaire, he had met Washington and hisfipnrty at VV‘enang‘o

end threw so many obstacles in his way both in going and re ‘

‘ turning, that only the wonderful Providence that. had wptehed
over him through life saved him from finding a grave in the
wildernees. But though Washington knew that  Force was
it"theibottom of all his troubles, he could not. for his, life

"ffisté'h‘ahy' thing ia'pon' him. and r'étlimskl t9 megthpd'
with a Mgrofiinlbifbf mm; at ‘a dangerous and wily  , ‘

3.

 

 
 

 

    

A41:

 

A COOL moroun. 43

What had brought him into this wilderness? He was here
to explain in person.
“ You will he very much surprised to see me here, major,”

said be; “but Indian-agents lead a wandering life. I had

something to say to my friend VVuh-tu—hzt, and hearing that he
had come down this way from the Juniutu, I followed him on
the trail. Somebody has been making the chief very angry;
I am afraid that there is very little chance for you it' you kill ’1
any more of his men.”

“ Ah I”

“ You will understand these things my dear friend,” said
the agent, in 8. tone of affectionate remonstrnnee. “ You have
had to do with Indians, and you know what they are when
‘roused. Some one killed a. chief yesterday, and the band are
raging. Do you see the man who killed him, chief l’"

“ No,” replied the Indian. “ He is gone.

“ Perhaps you would not object, major, to tell us when he
has gone? So great is the anger of the Indians against this
’man, who is called the Wild Hunter, that they are ready to let
all the rest go.“

“ It is impossible; the man is gone. Is this what you

, have come to speak to us about 1’"

“' Yes; certainly.”

_“ Then you have lost your labor. If the captain were here,
for the man you seek holds a commission under the governor
of this province, we should not think of giving him up; but

I as he is not here the whole question falls to the ground."

“ There is something more to say, my friend. I have to
tell you tlmt there is a. very large band of Indians in the
woods, and that they are bound to have you out of this. As
they can not: speak English, and I am able to do it in my

' broken way, I ask you to yield yourselves prisoners to this

chief. I give you my Word of honor as it Frenchman and a
gentleman, that you shall not be harmed, and taken to fort
Du Quesne as prisoners of thr. Resistance would be ntter
madness."

' “ Pudon me, my dear sir, if I do not see the matter in ex-
mly thst light. Look about you, and see what we have
been doing since last night. t Here is. an excellent barricade,
sud here are fix men armed with rifles, which they all know

 

  

m snswnnes’ son. 1

how to use. Seriously, now, Monsieur Ls Force, have 
the most remote idea that you can force us out of this. peei-
tion? I think not.” '

Ln Force looked about him with a sneer deepening on his

 lips.

“ At least, if they could not force you out, have you pro-
visions to stand a siege? Mind, I do not for a moment doubt
but that they can take the place when they choose. I warn
you, as a friend, that you can do nothing against them. 'The‘
Shawnces, 'vhen angry, are devils upon earth ; I hope you
will‘ not arouse them.”

“ There, there, Ls. Force,” said Gist, speaking for the first
time, “ we are not children, nor is this the first time we have
been upon the trail. As for the Shuwnees, I flatter myself
that they know me quite as well as I know you. I have felt
the claws of the Vulture,” he added, in the Shawnee dialect,
“ and they are very dull. They were cut the last sun.”

“ Nc-gsr-mish-n-shee l"* cried the Indian, in an angry tone.
“The pale face is a dog! He talk, talk, tongue go like wind. ,

ll.

Let him give up the muskets, the powder and the ball, and ‘

go as a captive to Du Quesne, or my braves shall come and
take the scalps from off your heads, and let them hang in our
lodges on the river."

“ Our scalps are our own as yet, and when you want them,
come and take them. Why should we fear the Shawnees,
They shout in. the woods like boys who have been kept long
in the lodge. They are boys. They fall from the clifi‘s like,
ripe fruit from the trees in aufcmn.” ~

The Indian shook his brown right-hand angrily on big ,
and leaped at the speaker, but the young Frenchman antici-
pated his purpose, and threw his arms about the waist of the
giant.

“ L‘wld, chief l Gist, stand beck ! Shawnee, would you for-
get your safeguard ‘1’" ‘ \ 

The momentary burst of passion over, the Indian quietly,

- released his body from the grasp of the Frenchmam, and,

turned his back upon the others. Gist had thrown his rifle

t-hastily to his shoulder upon the first rush of his enemy:
.Whosefite hung in the balance. It be had made another

“flasher, sum.

  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
         
     
   
   
       
     
     
     
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

m ATTACK. ' 46

step, it would have been his last upon earth. At a sign from
Washington, Gist allowed the butt of the piece to drop to
the earth, while the major addressed the Frenchman.

“It is useless to attempt to make this interview longer,
Monsieur La Force. If any good could possible come from
it, I should be glad to hear it; but as it is, I think you would
do Well to take your friend avay at once."

“ Then you refuse to yield ‘3”

“.Entircly."

“ You will be attackcc ."

‘ “ We have prepared."

“ Not a man of you will be spared if you are taken.”

“ It is not our intention to be taken.”

The Frenchman, seeing the uselessness of talk, threw his
flag again over his arm, signed to the Indian, and both to-
gether plunged into the woods.

About ten in the day the Indians began to show symptoms
of a design to attack the stronghold. Josh saw all these pre-
parations with badly concealed dismay. He wished himself
back in the cabin at the mountain foot, and in his inmost
soul cursed the day when he had left that spot to follow the
vagrant steps of his master. Besides, in his opinion, they
had chosen the simplest kind of a place for defense. In has
idea, no place was perfect for defense unless it had holes to
hide in, and this place was utterly desolate in this regard.

Josh came to Washington with a mournnt face. “ I’ve
got them pains ag’in, mnjor,” he said, “ and if you’ll only let
me lay down under this wall, I guess I'd git over it putty
soon, and then I'm a-goin’ to pitch into t1. cm Injins. I be,
by gravy l Oh, Lord 1”

The sharp whistle of a bullet stopped his speech, and he
fell to the ground and crawled rapidly under the wall. The
attack had commenced, and it was evident that the move-
ments sf the savages were directed by one not a stranger to

’ military movements. The band had broken into four de-

tachments. The first lay in front, and kept ups. warm fire
from the cover of the bushes. The second passed above, and
came down the creek behind the rocks and trees. The third
canto up from below, while a fourth body forded the stream
Ind gained the heights in the rear of the hills, where they

 

  

   
 
  
   
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
     
   
   
       

m 4mwms' son.

were on a low] with the crest upon which the defenses stood.
vBy this arrangement the little band of defenders was Isorely
bewildered, and knew not what to do. Upon second'thougllt,
fleeing that the attack would come from the front, Washing-
ion sent one man to each side, and kept the rest under his
command in front. Once in a while they would catch a.

glimpse of a dusky body as they crawled nearer and nearer,

but he gave the men orders not to fire until he gave the
word to do so. When the approaching party were within
easy range, a sharp tire was commenced from the breastwork,
which soon placed several of the savages hora de combat, and
forced them to retreat hastily to the cover of the thick woods.
To reach the breastwork they must cross fifty yards of ground
bare of every tree or shrub, and, like all Indians, they hesitat-
ed about such a dangerous act. '
While the curses of La Force, who was endeavoriug to in—
cite the savages to charge, were yet sounding in the woods
below, new actors appeared upon the scene. Wading in the

creek, and making the old woods ring with their yells of r

wage and defiance, came the‘rangers of Washington, the W'-
ginians who afterwards did such gallant service upon the fat!!!
field of Braddock. At the first sound of that rousing Eng-
lish cheer the savages retreated, and when the rangers Secured
the woods an hour after, not a single Indian could be 'found.
Washington greeted warmly the young captain who led that
rangers to his relief. According to his report, they had marched
soon after the arrival of the hunter, who had been driven out
of his course by outlying scouts after he had crossed the
river, which caused him to give the signal of danger. The
Indian—Slayer took the major aside as soon as the detachment
was ready to march. “ Since you say La Force is in the

woods, sir, you will need to send scouts out. Perhaps it V

would be as well to send me as any.

“ Yes, but can I spare you ‘3” '

“I don’t think it will make any difference,” replied the
hunter. “ If you will "let me take out James Carroll of the
rangers, the sergeant, you know, I think we can do as 3good
service on the scout as any men I know. I’d like to take
Okla if I could, but I don“t think you could spare us both, if

in mneotanyinains Noneofthohyscantalkthews" "

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“ Very well,” said Washington. "- When, you are ready.
come to me for your orders." >

“ Then I will take them now.”

“ You will follow on the trail of this party who have
troubled us so on the march. Find out where they are going,
and what La. Force is doing with them. In short, find out
all you can in the space of a week, and return. You will
find us at or near Great Meadows. Where is Sergeant Car-
roll ?" '

“ Here. major," said a manly voice at his side. Washing-
ton turned quickly, and extended his hand to a fine, tall young
fellow, in the dress of a sergeant in the rangers.

“ And so, sergeant, you mean to try the perils of the» wil-
derness under the tuition of the Indiun-Slnyer ?”

“ I could not learn in a better school, Major Washington.”

“ You are right,” said Washington; “ but you must be care-
ful, for I cannot afford to lose my drill-sergeant."

I With these words they separated, and Washington set about
preparing for his march. The rangers were not the men to
dally long upon the trail, and in less than half an hour their
green coats might have been seen gliding through the woods.
with skirmishers thrown out in front and flank, to drive ofl’
any lurking savages who might follow the trail of the column
But the savages had no intention of troubling a well~ep
pointed force, and kept well out of‘sight, so much so that
they did not notice that the Indian-Slayer and Sergeant Car
roll bed detached themselves from the main column and hid
in the bushes. As soon as the column was gone, gathering
cries sounded through the woods, and the Indians Began to
gather in the deserted camp. When all were in and gathered
in council, the two men came out of their concealment, and
looked in upon the new camp. Lying in their shelter, cov
ered by the bushes, they were all at once startled by a quick

 light step, and knew that some one was passing in the direc

tion of the camp. Parting the bushes with one hand, Ser
geant Carroll looked out upon the trail, and was greeted by a
sight which he had never- looked to see in the forest.

A. young girl, in the dress of the women of the Shawnee
nation, was. walking quickly down, the path. The face, as
teentin. 930310,.had not the-sham outline characteristic of the

, m shamed you.
Indian woman, nor was it so dark. . Her dress was that of

an Indian, as we said, adorned with beads in every part, which
flashed and glittered when the sun struck it. A short tunie,‘

reaching to the knee, made of tanned buckskin, pliable and,

soft as Chamois, formed the main portion of her attire. The
limbs .were covered with leggings of the same material as the
tunic, and the feet were cased in dainty moccasins. A plumed
head-dress covered her dark hair, which had a lustre about it

rarely seen in an Indian, and was suffered to fall, unconfined, '

half-way to her feet, from tinder the dainty head-dress. A
belt encircled her waist, bearing a beautiful dagger, the gift of
some Frenchman, and a. light hatchet. She also carried,
thrown across her arm, a small but beautifully made carbine.
Sergeant Carroll drew his breath hard, and looked after her as
she bounded lightly over the stones of the barricade, and
stood in the presence of the council. All rose simultaneously,
and La. Force, who was 'still with the party, advanced to
receive her with the courtly grace which is part of the educa.
tion of" a Frenchman. The spies noted that she was received
as a dignitary, and led toa seat in the council.

“ A woman on the war-path l” muttered the Indian-Slayer
“ What will come next ?” ‘

CHAPTER VI.
AMA-CARA.

Tm: woman who had made her way into the camp of thc‘
Shawnees, looked about her with a dignified air at the ’
' puzzled faces of the hand. Evidently, they did not like to-

/ see her here, but accepted it as her privilege. The dark eyes,

in their round, rested upon the malignant face of the Vulture..'

“ Speak i” she said. “Speak, I say, th-tajlia. What
are the men of the Shawnces doing so far from the path
upon which they should hunt? Why are they armed as if

for» battle? Why is the paint so thick upon the face land
, breast of the Vulture?" Has the voice of Ana-Cara ceased “ .

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to be heard? Has she no longer power in the lodges cf the
Shawnees? Let the chief speak.”

“ Wah-ta-ha is not awoman," was the half-angry reply of
the chief. “ He has heard the words of the Shawnee proph-
etess. She has spoken to the braves at the council tire, and
she would make them women, like the Delawarcs -or’ the
Lakes. or the sons of Father Unzts. But the Vulture is a
warrior; he loves to go out upon the warvputh, and strike the
enemies of the tribe. He will not be sent back like a child,
because a woman speaks.”

A quick, angry flash rose to the brown cheek of Atta-
Cara, as she heard the defiance of the chief, and an indignant
murmur arose among the Indians, who reverenced their
prophetess, whom they all believed to be “ Great Medicine.”
The wily chief at once saw his mistake.

“The Vulture has often listened to the wisdom of the
prophetess, and her words are like honey on the tongue; But
she does not understand this thing. The English (logs are
the enemies of the Shawnees. Onontio is our brother. and
we will do as he says.”

“ What have the French done for us, more than the English?"
demanded Alta-Cara. “ I have studied the stars, and talked
with the spirits of the rocks and trees, and they have said
that the power of the French is passing away. I see, between
my eyes and the time when they must pass away forever from

,this land, a bloody battle, and the hosts of the red-coats are

scattered. But they will rise again in new power, and the
French must go away.” ,
La Force rose with forced calmness, and spoke : “ I have
heard the words of Atta-Cara, and they are not good. The
French have always been the friends of the Shawnees—the
English their enemies. Why should the great prophetess of
the Shawnees speak against those who love them so well?
My hands are clean. I hold them out that you may look“

_, upon them. Who shall say that the hands of a Frenchman

were ever met with the blood of a Shawnee? I look about
JaeVand I miss a face which was loved in the lodges of the
Shuwnees. It is the face of Met-a-kulla. lie was a chiefi
Where does his body list He fell in the deep forest by the shot
of the Wild Hunter of the Shuwneel Would the French do so?”

    
    

  

   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
       
       
     

.‘", 50 was. ,mwmd JOI-

, , ' The murmur of the Indians was now turned against the,

, I hated English.

“ “ La Force has a smooth tongue," aid the girl, “ but it is
forked. A snake has a forked tongue. How did Met-a-kulla
die? He lay like a snake in the path of the English, seeking
scalps. He died the death, and it was just. Is Ana-Cara a
tool, that she cannot read the thoughts of men ?”

“ The blood of the accursed race runs in the veins 'of Atta-
Caru," cried the Vulture, shaking his brown hand on high,
“ I have known it, and blood will speak. It speaks to-duy,

says that she has spoken to the spirits of the rocks and trees.
They were lying spirits. They are the spirits of the English.
They say evil things, and have put it into the heart of Atta-
Cara to speak against those who love her well.”

Atta-Cara rose slowly. Until this moment she had re-
mained sitting on the stone upon which she had placed her-
self when introduced into the crowd. A great and noble
anger sat enthroned upon her brow. Carroll thought he had
never seen anything so imposing as the attitude she assumed.
Stretching out her arm toward the assembled group, she ad-
dressed them in an impassioned appeal. I

“ The chief has said that I have the blood of the English
in mi veins. He speaks true. Ana-Cara will not deny it.
But she has been ten years a child of the great Shawnee
nation. They have been kind to her; they have listened to
her words, when the spirits of the rocks and trees have
spoken to her ears. They loved her when she told them
what is right, and what is wrong. They are right. They

and scalps. He has said I am a woman; yes, a wcman's
heart beats in my breast. I do not love war. Scalps are
odious in my eyes. I can not bear to see them. The sons of
Rather Ilnas live as the Great Spirit would have them live.

‘ “ But'this is- not it. The Shawnees are a great nation, but

They will sweep them from the face of the earth, if they rise»
up against them in anger. The French, promise much, but
they do little. What have Captain Bureau, or Joncat'n, or
La Fares done for us? They have asked us to strike

when it says that the English are our friends. Ana-Cara"

 

shall not go away after the words of one who only sees blood ,

they can not stand up against the. powerof the English. '

 

 

 

 

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English. They have bought many scalp: fl'om you: and
when our friends struck the French flag in the council house
at the lodges of the Twightwecs, you went against them, and
took the sculps of those that had been your friends. Was
this right? Whnt is the flag of France to us? Why did
not the Captain Joncnlre avenge his own flag, and not figh
by the tomulmwks of the Slmwnecs? The Slmwnees are not
such children that they can not see that they are only tools in
the hands of La Force and Joncaire. Let us, if we must
join ourselves with any party, join the strongest.

“ You hear me speak of La. Force; you know how he has
pursued me, and asked me to be his wife, when he knows
that the Prophetess of the Shawnees can not take a husband.
This is the man who has taken the lead in our nation. I

"Have spoken.”

An angry spot began to glow upon the checks of the
Frenchman. That of which the prophetess accused him
Was true. The beauty of the girl had so far overcome his

‘ prejudice against the Indian blood supposed to be in her

veins, that he had determined to marry her. The history of
this remarkable woman was veiled in obscurity. The Vul-
ture lnul brought her home when returning from a foray, in
which his entire hand had been cut of? byth Harman‘ch
himself alone escaping with the child. Beyond the fact that
she was the child of 8. “ Yengee” he had said nothing; and
as the band who accompanied him hud been destroyed on his
return, no one knew tho secret of her birth. _

From the first, Atta-Cara was It child full of promise, and
as she grew older, retaining a knowledge of her natiqe tongue,
for she was two years old when taken, and being naturally
keen and active, she gained an influence in the tribe, not se- ,
mud to that of'thc head chief himself. She was cunnin,
enough to make at pretense of being ,one of those favore.
beings‘to whom are revesled some of the mysteries of me,
future, ,This; among the“ superstitious Indians, raised~ he;
more and more in‘ their estimation, until, at: the age of twenty
she was'_u'nive‘rsally recognized as great medicine, and fob
n’mlly invested with the title of prophetess. Her great beauty
made her coveted by many ofthe chiefs; but, pretending
that her powers would be lost by‘ a‘ marriage, she had“

 

  

 
       
       
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
     

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52 ’ m smwmuns’ iron, '

this time. Looking at her oiflce as sacred, it is not to be

wondered at that the Indians should resist any attempt to take f

her from them, and hence many lowering looks were cast
upon_Ln Force as her accusation fell from her lips. But he
wwabashed only for a moment.

This wonderful woman was brave of heart, and being al-

" lowed the greatest liberty by her tribe, she often made long '

journeys alone, armed and equipped as we have seen. She
had accompanied the party, which started out for hunting,
and left them at the joining of the waters of the Susquehanna
and Juniata, for a visit to a Shawnee village situated upon
the northern bank of the Juniata, promising to 'cross the
' country and join them at the hunting-grounds a short distance
to the east of the place where they now were. The Vulture
had taken advantage of the absence of the prophetess to at-
tempt the destruction of the party of Washington. '

It might be thought, that knowing her blood to be English,
Atta-Cara would return to her own people. But the shock
of her capture had utterly efi‘aced from her mind the memory
of the place from which she was taken, and she knew no
kindred, no people. The Vulture, with whom she had been
at enmity for the last year, refused to speak of her capture,
and like Logan, she did not know that a drop of her blood
flowed in the veins of a living creature. What would it
avail her if she escaped from a place where she was com-
paratively happy, to go among those who Were entire stran-
gers? It is not to be wondered at that she enjoyed her wild
sovereignty, and did not care to leave a people who loved
her, for the cold charity of strangest.

A The majority of the warriors, without abating a whit of

‘their loyalty to her, were firmly bound upon following the r

young Frenchman upon the adventure which he had marked
oht for them. The Shawnees openly acknowledged the au-
thority of the French, and Atta-Cara had never been able to
[win them to the English side, as she had often tried to do.

The council broke up, after agreeing to pass the night up- ‘

on‘the slope, and the men strolled out into the woods, some

,of them in dangerous proximity to the place where the two ’

splashy prostrate under the overhanging boughs.

prevailed upon the Indians to let her remain unmarried until, ‘

 

 

 

 

 
 

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“ What if some of the greasy heathens blunder upon us?"
whispered the sergeant in the ear of his companion.

“ Fight 1" was the short reply, “if we must. Run if we
can. We are in a dangerous place."

Stooping low, and avoiding the places where they could
hear the voices of Indians, they gained a place secluded from
observation and lay down to wait for the movements of the
savages. They only remembered the order of Washington, :
to hang upon the trail of this party, and find out whether;
there were more Frenchmen in the neutral ground.

“Queer,” said the sergeant, looking at his friend. “ I can't
get that girl out of my head.”

“Not so very queer, either," replied the Indian~Slayer
“ Neither can 1."

“ She is beautiful," said the sergeant.

“ Is she ?” said the other, in an absent tone. “I never
thought of that. I don't know why it runs in my head so.
Perhaps it was what they said about her having English
blood in her veins. She reminded me, of the fate of my lost
Molly."

“ Your daughter?"

“ Ah, yes. What this girl is now,st would be, if she lives.
Why did that cursed Indian speak of it, only to rack me
with suspense ‘3”

“ What Indian ?” , -

“The Vulture. He said my daughter was alive; that he
knew where she was, but would not tell me. My curse up-
on him, I will have his blood. And yet I dare not, for he
said that with him perished forever the secret of her birth. My
eirse upon him, I say; when I have his secret, my vengeance
shall not sleep."

“ What a woman that is! How nobly she stood-up for
the English! She is English herself, the chief said." ‘
‘ A pensive shade passed over the fine face of the Indian-
Slayer. “ You are young,” said he, “ and your heart is warm.
I do not wonder that you are attracted toward this girl, for

even in my eye she is beautiful, but that I, an old,hunter and
forest ranger, should find my heart go out to herI is something
that I can not understand. But let that be as it may, she is
in danger. The 'girl does not know La Force as  do. A.

 

  

 
 
   
   
   
       
    

  

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treacherous snake! If he has made up his mind to posse.
her, he'will move heaven and earth to accomplish his object.
Though I hate him, I will give him his due, and say that he

is they most dangerous foe, next to Joncaire, with Whom we

have to contend on this frontier.”

" “ You think he will follow her, then "'1’ cried the young sol-
dier, his eyes blazing.
he would find an enemy in me.”

“Are you ready to be her champion already? Ah. you
are young. I am afraid your hot blood would avail you

little in an encounter of this kind. He is a cool, wary man,

who would turn your own weapons against you. Old Chris-
topher knows him, and he very nearly wound up his earthly
accounts when coming up the Monongahela. But we must
watch the rascal, or he will do your pet an injury. For the
time, we. can do no better than get rest now, for, my word
for it, if things turn out as I think, we will be footsore and
weary before we reach the end of our journey.” ‘

 

oeuvres via,
THROUGH THE WOODS.

Tm- piev slept as only men can who love the free breath

of the Woods They woke at early morning, and stole mare:

I to the camp 'of their enemies, who were stirring full as soon‘
as they, and preparing for a march. While the rest partook

of a simple repast, Atta‘Cara went aside to a spring which

‘ burst. from the side of the hill, and ran down into the creek

below. Here she sat down, and taking some parched corn

3 from a pouch at her side, ate with a keen zest. The spot

she had chosen was not far from the place where the two
men lay concealed—but she proceeded with her meal, utterlyi
unconscious of their supervision, until a firm step on the hard
ground above her, warned her that some one was coming. A
mement after, La Force came into the secluded place she had
chosen, and threw himself in an indolent attitude upon the

. Ngygddm . . , . . I . ., V,

“ Perhaps he would despise me, but ,

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as.
. I Good day, my forest bird,” was his salutation. “ I hope
you rested well."

, “ As well as I might, knowing that you were so near," ro-
plicd the girl, in rather a sharp tone.

"He laughed lightly. “ Don’t spare my feelings, I beg of
you," he said. “ I know that you have taken up an uncom-
mon prejudice against one who would die to do you a Service.
Look about you, Atta, and tell me if the things you see are
suited for one of your rare beauty. Listen. Be my wife, as
I have asked you many times. We will leave these wild
scenes for others more congenial, and forget the life among
\he Shawnees. You are very beautiful, my darling; your
iyes are like the stars in brightness, and your voice is the
very soul of music. You Would be féted and followed in La
Belle France, where men bow down to beauty in woman.
$151, darling, will you go ?"

“ No,” replied the girl, paying very little attention to his
heroics, “ I will not.” -

“ And why ?” ,

“ Can you ask? Though the home I have with the Shaw-
nees is a rough one, still it has been home to me for ten years,
and I will not exchange it for very doubtful happiness. Your
France would not suit me. I could have no heart in the
shows you speak of. I have grown up as a Shawnee girl I
have only the simple training they give their women. I have,
no wish to change my manners now. I could not if I would.
{should shame you. Would it not be better for you to cease
pursuing me 1’”

“ You ask too much,” he said, rising slowly. “ Wake not
a. sleeping wolf. There are few men upon earth who could
he a warmer friend than I, none, I think, a worse enemy. I
have sworn that you shall be my wife. swear it again. By
things earthly and things heavenly, by things present and tr
come, I swear it in your presence again. Put it in your
barks, and remember Well what I have said to you.”

“ You need not think to frighten me," cried the prophetess-
rising in stately scorn. “ Such a thing as fear does not run
‘ in my blond.” ‘

“ You do not understand me, that is th. reuse-s,” said the
I wt “ You (to not know the man you. my Girl, whet

 

  

  

56/ m suswxnns’ roll. ‘

can you do if I win over the chief, who is my friend  f
your enemy, to think as I do? The band are his to a man.
They will do as he says, and not even your eloquence can
win them to your purpose. Why not yield gracefully, since
yield you must i’"

“ Not I. The thing you speak of is impossible. Though  1m?1

  

the chief and I are not good friends he would not see me
wronged.” , ‘5 it h

“ You are not of his blood. The chief is all Indian, and
he would not consider it a wrong to force you to be my wife’, y

sud thus get you out of his way forever. He will do it", /'

She turned pale, in spite of her self-possession. ha

“ That shaft went home,” said the Frenchman, in a taunt— 7 ’ X
tug tone. “ I will tell you something we have agreed upon. 1

You are to be mv wife ; every thing we have done has tended , '
toward that purn0sc. For this I left my friend J umonville, \ ,
and come to this nlace to meet the Vulture, for he sent a run-

ner to Venango to inform me that you had joined the party.»

I came to him at once; you will march with us until we join 1
the party of Jnmonville, who will let his priest, Father Du ,
Sale; perform the ceremony which shall make us one.” ’ ’ 

“ You have laid out a very pretty plan, my dear sir.” , r ,

“ Superb, is it not i’” V " * '

“ Quite so, The only trouble will be that I would sooner".
die by your hand than be your wife.”

.“ As for that, I do not intend to kill you. When you are , _
my wife, you will love me fast enough. It only needs that." y "r
“ I tell you I will die first." ' ‘

“ I hear you,” replied the Frenchman coolly; “ but you
are angry now; you will think better of it by-and-by." ' , I

“ I shall never think better of you,” replied Ana-Cara.

“I can hardly believe it; but I came to tell you that we
march in half an hour; the course we must take will be
rough, and I am afraid you will tire. Shall I have a litter
made.” , v ' » _
L: No.” , .‘ t' ‘
' “ Then you will walk 1'" ,‘ x I ' '

“ I will not go." ' "
“ You mustl’

“I will appeal to the baud."

 

    
 

  

 

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y.

AMA-CARA AROUBED.

57

“ Do 50; they will not hear you.”

"Oh, amI alone ‘8" she cried. “Will no one hear me,
will no one help? I am a woman, sir; you have' boasted of
the thing Frenchmen call honor. Show some of it now ;

’, give up the power you say you have over me; let me go back

I .

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i

 

 

 

 
  

c

to the Nation. I-usk no guide, no guard, I know the wayI
and do not fear to go alone; let me go now."
“ My dear girl, it is impossible to comply with your request;

 it has cost me some trouble and pains to bring matters to this

pass, and I can not give up new; you will get ready to march
in half an hour."

In the impulse of her sudden anger, the girl lifted her
hand and struck him a blow with the open palm upon the
mouth; so sharp a blow, that the blood started from his thin
lips, cut by the white teeth. In his rage his hand was lifted
to return the blow, as if a man had stood before him. But
the sight of her glowing face restrained him, and he staggered
back against a tree, looking at her with gleaming, malevolent
eyes. ,

“ You have insulted me again,” he hissed.
“ You drew it on yourseltl Approach me if you dare, and

. I will kill you."

He advanced quickly and seized her by the shoulder; but
she swung herself loose. and snatched the little hatchet from
her belt. He threw up his arm to ward otl" a blow which she
struck at him with all her force. The handle struck upon his
arm and broke short in her hand, the blade flying up and cut-
ting him slightly upon the temple. The spirit of the girl
suited him, and he broke into a short laugh.

“ You have spirit enough, my dear,” he said.
give you, since I have made you angry."

The girl said no more, but walked rapidly away into the
center of the camp. Meeting an Indian, she addressed him
in his own language, and demanded if he was going to join
La Force against her. He refused to answer, and pointed to
the chief as the person to whom to apply. Several more to
Whom she spoke would only answer her in the same manner,
end she at last spoke to the chief himself, who had been
watching her in a moody manner. As she approached he
W his arms and compressed his lips sternly.

“ Well, I for-

  

    

.... ..._.,..,_ ..,...y L...

“What is this, chief?” she cried. “Hath you forgotten  x

that. I am Prophetess of the Shawnees 1”” \
“ La Force is a great brave,” was the ready reply of the
savage. “ Most women would be proud to be the wife of such
a man; why should the prophetess be better than other Yen-
gees ‘? for she is a Yengee." ‘
“ The time was when the chief was kind to me. Why has
he turned against me ?" .
“ Why did Atta-Cara turn against the chief?" was the reply.
“ I nursed you in my bosom, for you were but a child when
you came into my lodge. You grew up beautiful and becatne
great in the tribe; then I knew I had nursed a serpent; the
prophetess spoke against the very things the Vulture loved,
most. He loved Onontio and hated the Yengees; she‘ loved
the Yenpees and hated Omntt'o ; he was a warrior, the sound;

of the War cry was music in his ears, and his blood warmed ,

when he saw scalps; but she trembled at the sound of the war- ‘

cry. and taught the warriors to bury their weapons and live ,

‘ like the sons of Father Unas. It is not good.”

The chief wrapped his blanket about him and walked
awaynrefusinfr to hear another word from her lips; but when
they were ready to march. to the surprise of every one she

grasped her carahine, and vowed she would shoot the first man ,

who laid his hands upon her to force her away. Here was
something upon which thev had not at all counted. She stood
with her back to the barricade which Washington had built.“
and with a blaze in her eyes which spoke of a determined-
will, warnedythem back. . . .
_ The savages paused, and looked at one another in consder
able dismay. Not one amomr them had any desire to iniurtf
their prophetess in any manner; that was farthest from their do.
signs; but they were simplygsubservient to the chief in the

matter; they never dreamed that she would show tight in this '

I manner.

“ A fiend fly‘away with her," criedkLa Force. .“‘She is stop- .f
ping the march. Come, come, my darling, of what use are a A
these heroics? You can not possibly escape; you are our» ‘

rounded. If you leave your present position you will 
seized at once. Why not give untandryoquili be amazes:
b lover should trout the woman he loves best.” ’

, \

  

 

    

 

 

Nwmzy

 

‘ a shout of approbation.

Wan;- 50

An this time the Indian-Slayer had been trying to‘ keep down

, the rising anger of the young soldier, who was in ecstasies over

the brave bearing. of the girl and her harsh treatment by the
Frenchman. When she struck him in the face his admiration
knew no bounds, and he with difllculty refrained from uttering
When she drew the gun upon
them, the hunter was forced to hold him to prevent him from
rushing out to take his stand at her side.

“Keep quiet, you devil l" whispered the hunter, his anger
rising, “ you will ruin us both it" you don’t take care."

“ Dam that Frenchman l" was the reply of the soldier.

. “ Just look at that girl i"

. “ You must keep quiet.

“ I will, if I can; but, oh, glory! Look at that girl.”

She stood there, calmly self-reliant, holding the weapon
ready to tire. La Force made a single step toward her, and
she called upon him to desist in so stern a tone that he recoiled
andv‘looked at his associates with a blank face. In the mean
time, acouple of savages stole away while she watched in

‘t'ront. Seeing this, the wily Freuclnnan engaged her in
debate, while his men crept nearer. He called upon her again
and again to yield, but she only answered by a hold defiance.

“ Say what you can, La Force; I will not yield, and il‘you
come ar," nearer, one of you, Ishall shoot; it‘ you have any
doubt of the accuracy of my aim, you may ask the chief. Or,
if you like that better, try to come near me. I shall not hesi-
tate about shooting you, be sure of that.”

“You must yield,” replied La Force, raising his finger.
“ Now."

The word was spoken with such vehemence that it startled
her; then, to her great surprise and dismay a pair of dusky
arms were thrown about her, pinioning her arms to her sides.

/ She struggled desperately, and almost broke away from her

captor, who had risen quietly from behind the barricade and
seized her in his arms. La Force sprang forward and took her
Weapons from her and then ordered the man to set her at
liberty. He had no sooner done so than she sprang over

’ the barricade, and darted away into the thick woods. La Force

uttered a single cry of mingled rage and dismay and bounded
liter/her, followed by a dozen Indians, who spread out to tho

 

    

m smwxnu’ son.

 I

right and led: in the pursuit, some of them breaking through
the bushes in hot haste, a few feet from the bushes in which
the hunter and the young soldier lay concealed. I

The forest training ot Ana-Cara had been such that her
frame Was light and active, and for a short time she distanced
her pursuer; but he was a rapid runner, and after the first
hundred yards or so she knew he was gaining, and darting

aside from the beaten path she threw herself prostrate under at

bUsh and waited for him to pass. He came up, even passed
her, when his eye caught the glitter of the bead ornaments
she were and he turned back. Seeing that she was discovered,
the poor girl rose and ran again, but she was soon overtaken;
and led back panting, supported by the strong arm of her
captor, with white lines about his mouth which told how
great was his anger. Her eyes were blazing too, and

when she recovered her breath she stretched out be):

arms, and burst into a withering denunciation or the Shaw-
nees, wlrquuailed before it. The hunter only could under

stand her words, for she spoke in the Indian tongue ; but‘ the j
Her r

soldier could understand her impassioned gestures.
speech was one calculated to terrify the rude spirits to whom
she spoke; she told them that the glory of the Shawnee!
would soon lie in the dust, and that strangers would possess
the land in which they dwelt. f

The Indians slunk away upon the trail, with the exception

of four who were appointed to guard the prophetess. Upon ‘

her giving her word not to attempt to escape, her hands were
not bound, and she was sufl'ered to proceed in her own way.
It was an unuttered avowal on their part of confidence in her.
They knew that she would not break her word.

They marched on in gloomy silence in the customary “In-
dian tile,” looking into every thicket through which they had
to pass, and keeping well in the open country; and all the
while, the sergeant and his companion followed like sleuth-
hounds on the trail.

The Indian-Slayer was dissatisfied with his companion. He

knew the young man to be a brave fellow, utterly reckless of ‘-'

danger, but one who would be guided by his heart sooner
than his head. This did not suit the wary old hunter. Upon
I the trail, he claimed, a man had no business with any heart~

 
 

  

 

 

 

 
    

 

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at all, and he was afraid the young man would bring danger
on them both.

“I wish we had never seen this girl," he said.
get us into trouble.”

“I don‘t agree with you.
my life to have lived until this hour.
girl.”

“I am with you. But you must be guided by me.
ger lurks in every step we take.”

The course oi the band was south-westerly, evidently with
a fixed purpose in View. Skirting the mountains in their
course, they crossed the custom portion of the tract of land
known us Great Meadows, very near the camp of VVnshing»
Ion, as it :Lt‘terwurd proved, and made a camp at night in a
All day long the untiring scouts had followed

“ She will

It is worth some years of
I will save that

Dan.

Secluded dell.

“ the course of the band, stopping when they stopped, stooping

low when they crossed level ground, but always keeping them
in view. The camp was well chosen, for Lu Force had a
good eye to military effect, and was known and t'eured along
the border.

The men at once set to work erecting a number of tempo-
rary cabins, as if their stay was intended to be a short one.
Long poles were cut and joined at the top, in the form of the
Indian wigwams, forming the framework of the dwellings.
Into the vacant spaces they wove the branches of trees, and
formed in a few hours a number of spacious and pleasant
sylvan huts, of which the men took possession. Special
care was taken with one of the huts, which was set aside for
the use of the prophetcss, to which La Force led her.

“ Do not, I pray you, Attn, consider yourself in the light
of a captive. There is nothing you can ask at my hands,
except your liberty, and to forego the happy privilege of low
log you, which I will not grant, believe me.”

“ You guard the very thing I would have asked, my lib-
erty. I am your prisoner. Do with me as you have the
power to do. But I will never marry you."

“ You must not make rush vows. As a true lover, I have
a right to use any means to obtain the lady of my choice.
Rest thee well.” ‘

He turned away and left her, after reminding her of her

 

  

 

fl;

[surmise that she, would not try. to escape. As she had 30.
wish to be alone in the wilderness, new that she was in a,
part: of the country which she did not know, she reiterated
her promise, and he left her to her rest.

 

CHAPTER VIII.

A» STRANGE INTERVIEW.

Wm.:the,shades of night began to close around the sleep-

ing camp, the young. soldier, after a contest with his more .

wary comrade, determined to go into the village, and attempt
to obtain an interview with the captive maiden. The Indian—

Slayer contended that it was foolhardy in him to enter the ~

camp at all on such an errand; but, seeing that the young,
man had made up his mind, he determined to aid him as far
as he could. A set of signals was concerted between them,
and the young man started on his perilous mission, while the
hunter crept nearer to the, camp and waited the result in
breathless anxiety.

Theyoung soidier had the utmost confidence in himself——
too much, perhaps, for his own safety. He had .left his rifle
behind him, well knowing that it could be of no possible use.
to hint, He took only his pistols and a knife, The hunter
had endeavored to prevail upon him to leave his pistols as,
well as the rifle, but to this he would not agree. ~ ‘

The night was a dark one, and the only guide he had was‘

the camp-fire shining through the trees. Pressing forward "

swiftly but silently, he had come quite near to the camp, when
an Indian rose silently in his path, and asked him a. question,
in the Shawnee language, which was all Greek to Carroll.
'I‘liey were close together, and there was nothing for it. but to,

seize the Indian by the throat, and suppress the cry which. "

was rising to his lips. The next moment his knife was in
the heart of the warrior, while his left hand still compressed
the muscular throat. It was a terrible necessity, and the .3013:

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well. With a 'slight “struggle, the Indian became a dud

announces Wont.

, weight in the arms of the soldier, and he allowed him to drop

gradually to the ground. His first thought was to leave him
where he lay; but upon second thought he lifted the body,
carried it away into the woods, and concealed it in a hollow
log. After this, he returned to the spot where the encounter
had taken place, and, lying prostrate, tried to make out the
hut in which the maiden had been placed.

What he intended to do, he had hardly thought himself.
An irrepressible longing to see Atta nearer, to know her,
drove him on. He hoped that he might meet La. Forcs, and
by his death, end her persecution. Creeping with great cars
into the camp, he looked at the group lying'around the camp-
fire. There were only five; the rest were in the cabins, and
\these, who had been left to guard the camp, Were dozing.
Whatever had rendered the slain man more restless than his
fellows, he had found his death by its means.

'As the young man lay upon the earth, the curtain of 3

~ lodge was pulled aside, and a figure came out into the open

ground. The outline was that of a woman, and must be
Atta-Cara. She advanced at once to the fire, and spoke a
‘few words to the warriors. Whatever she said, they seemed
to acquiesce, and she turned away from the camp, and went

'out to the other side of the opening, where there was a spring.

Thirst had impelled her to this spot, and she lifted the
gourd and drank deeply. While doing this, the young sol;

,dier had followed her, and was close at her elbow in the

darkness.

His fear now was that she would be alarmed, and cry out.
But he determined to risk that, and spoke in a low tone a.
few words of the French language, which he had heard her
speak with La Force, and in which he had been instructed I
in the military school. At the first word in that tongue she '
took him to be La Force, and refused to open ‘her lips. It
was well that she thought so, or some unguarded expression
might have betrayed him. Before he had finished his first
sentence, she knew it was a stranger.

“Who is it ?” she whispered, in French.

"‘I am an English soldier.” he replied, in the some tone.

d

' “I Mutilated the party from the timeyoa'joined them on

 

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thermountain. I have heard you speak for us, and know

:that you are a friend to the English. You are in the hands ,

of a bad man.

“ I do not.” . ,

“I know it I have come to save you. Leave this camp
with me, and we will make our way to the camp of Wash-

. ington. No woman ever pleaded to the major in vain, and‘
you shall have protection and safety, Will you go l'"

“ I fear this man—this La Force," said the girl. “ I know
that he has a bad, wicked heart. I do not love him. But I
gave him my word that I would not try to escape to-night,
and I can not go with you.” ‘

“ No promise is binding which is extorted by force. Do
not mind it." 4 m

“ You are wrong. Faith should be kept, when once given.

I will not ask if you love him.”

, \

 a
l

The man is a villain, and I hate him. But my word shall .\ \

be kept, for all that.” . . _

“ I think you carry it too far. But, be it as it may, 'I de
sire sincerely to do you a service. It was at some danger to
myself that I came here, and I made a passage by a bloody
portal. But it shall not detain me from coming again.”

“ Thanks.
see you again, I will remember you always.
do if you come again ‘2" v ,

“ Be in your lodge to-morrow night at this time, and wait
until I come.
lodge from the outside, come out, and I will meet you. I
dare not give any louder signal. Is it your desire, after you
escape, to go back to the Shawnees ?” r
‘ “ What else have I to do ‘1’” asked the girl, with a mourn-
ful cadence in her voice.
not know from whom it came. The Vulture brought me, /
when a little child, ten years old to the lodges of the Shaw-
Vnees, and since then I have lived a not unhappy life.
should I go back to the English? I should not have a single
“friend, where now I have many.” \

“ You should have one, at least,” cried theyoung man im?
petuously. “ A friend who would be faithful.
take a strange way of showing their regard for you.”

L. ‘f‘They are the tools of the Vulture, who thinks 

I will not forget your kindness; and if I never , _‘
What will you ‘

When you hear three low taps upon your ‘

“My blood is Englislnbut I do ‘

Why ,

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as»,

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These Indians » "

    
 

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not venture alone and unarmed into the woods at this hour.

 

A woman’s worm. ' 05

made an ungrateful return for his kindness to me. Perhnps
I have; he was kind to me when I was a. child, but I could
not like him. But it is dangerous for you to stay here. The
camp will be aroused in a moment. I am watched all the
time. You will not fail me i"

“ While I have life, never 1”

“ 00 then. Fly. Stay not a moment or you are lost. I
see the men at the fires rising and coming this way. For
your life go,” and seeing that he lingered still, she added :5
“ It is for my safety, too.”

“ Give me your hand at parting," he said. “ Tell me that
I have not been presumptuous in coming here.”

“ I shall thank and bless you for it to my dying day.
There is my hand, now go."

The voice of La Force was now heard, speaking grufily to
the men at the fire, and demanding where the prophetess had
gone. They told him, and his heavy step was heard ap-
proaching the spring.

“ Let me stay,” said the young man. “ I will kill him.”

“ If you have any regard for my safety,” cried Atta, “go
while there is time."

He pressed the hand he held to his lips and stepped quickly
aside. But La Force was now so near that to attempt to
move when a footstep on the dry leaves would betray his
presence to the enemy, was impossible. So he leaned against
a tree within six feet of the spring and waited until La Force
should go away. The Frenchman’s usual calm was ruflied
because the Indians had suffered her to go to the spring un-
watched, for he knew that if so good an opportunity had been
given him for escape, he would have seized it at once. Hir
voice told his anger.

“ You choose strange times for rambling.”

“ I choose my own times,” replied Atta, testily. “ I (if

r not know that it need trouble you."

“ But it does. What if you had escaped through the cursed

r welessness of my guards? You might have done so if you

ehose.”
‘f Monsieur has forgotten one little thing which a gentleman
would have remembered. Setting aside the fact that I should

 
 

  

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m mmnns’ son.

,I gave him my word that I would not escape. Member

.must have the greatest regard for me, as he says, since he I 

takes the liberty to doubt my word.”

She had been so much in the society of the French that
she had acquired their peculiarities of language. La Force
looked disconcerted, and she repeated, ‘

“ Monsieur has taken the liberty to doubt my word 1'”

What could he say? He stainniered some lame excuse or
other in reference to having been misled by his great love for
her. She only answered by a look of supreme scorn. I

“ You have doubted my word, sir. I had given it to you

in good faith, and meant to Keep it. Promises can be of no‘

service to you, since you do not believe them. I withdraw
mine, and tell you that I shall run away at the very first chance
I get. Remember! I withdraw my promise, because you
treat me as if no such promise had been made. You do not

treat me as a Frenchman should treat the woman he has said

he loves.” \. .
“ You drive me mad,” cried La Force, in a. lender tone.
“ What I have said, I have said, and I will abide by it. I

love you purely and truly; as man seldom loved a women in.

his day. Throw aside this scorn of me. Love me as I de-
serve."
“ Why do you follow me then, and watch me as if I were

a slave? I tell you Monsieur Le Force, that I will not err-3

(lure it. I am not your slave, yet. And I never will he,
while I have a voice to cry out against it.” '
“ Girl,” he said, hoarsely, striding up to her, and catching

her by the shoulder in a strong grasp. “Beware how you I. ,

trifle with me. It will not be best for you to do so.”
“ Take your hand from my shoulder.”
“ No haste,” he said, with a sneer. “ You have made me
enery- Hear me out.”
“ Take your hand from me.”
~ “ I will not do it.”

Young Carrol had listened to the conversation to this point.

All the hot blood in his veins boiled up at the last outrage,

and advancing a single step, he drew back his’am, and-

1d;qu s blow run at are head of the Frenchmen. m

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under it, as the ox goes down under the blow of the butcher
with his mouth and nostrils swimming in gore. The moment
the blow was struck he turned and ran away through the
“Woods, knowing that he had betrayed himself by the blow.
But flesh and blood are weak, and if his life had been forfeited
by it, he would have struck that blow in spite of all.

The camp was aroused. Yells of rage and dismay filled

' / the woods on every side, as the Frenchman was brought in,

bleeding.

When he recovered his senses, he raved like a madman.
And when the Indians, searching the woods by the light of
the torches, found the dead body of their comrade, his anger
knew no bounds. IIe burst into the lodge of Atlas, and would
have proceeded to other violence than that of the tongue, but

' 'was induced to leave the place by the Vulture, who, though
I he wished her out of the way, would not have her injured.

But he led her out into the open place in front of the lodge.
There lay the body of the man whom Carroll had killed. A
brawny savage, painted fiercely for the war-path. with a neck-
lace of bears’-claws about his muscular throat.

/ “ Who did this ‘1" he demanded.

Looking down while she spoke, she asked how she
’should know. Indeed, Carroll had not said that he had killed
a man, only that he had reached her over a bloody portal.

‘ The chief looked at her in silence for a moment, and then,
taking her hand, he led her back to the lodge, and dropped
the curtain after her. Then calling La Force to his side, he
‘w-ent down to the spring, taking a torch in his hand. The
ground about the springr was soft and received impressions of
footprints easily. The Vulture held the torch close down,
and read the green sward like a. printed book. Footsteps

, light as that of the bird, dainty as the step of the red-deer,
could be seen there. These he knew were the footprints of
V the prophetess. But another, much larger, attracted his at-
, tention. It was made by the firm, unyielding foot of a white
man. Wah-ta-ha pointed to this with a grunt of displeasure.

' “ White man here,” he said. “ See.”

La. Force bent to examine the mark.

“ Washington’s rangers wear such boots,” said he. “ I have
no doubt one of them was here. I only ask that I may meet

/

 

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TEE snswnm' FOE.

him some day, and it‘ I do, may his good spirit stand by him
Welland stiffen up his sinews, for I will show him nc mercy.”
" Stood here,” said the Vulture pointing to the tree. “Step
out—so ;" suiting the action to the word. “ Strike hard.
long arms. Ugh !" "
“ I see,” said La Force, grimly. “ I will make hilt. rue the
day he ever struck that blow," hissed the Frenchman, through
his teeth. “ He shall repent it in dust and ashes, curse him.” , .
The Vulture was a man of few words, and all he said Was
to the point. I
“Go back and sleep,” he said. “When day come, find
trail, mus’ get his scalp.” .
They returned at once to the fire, and sat down to wait‘fo
_morning. In the mean time the young soldier hurried away
through the woods, and once out of danger, gave the signal
upon which he had agreed with the hunter. It was an-
swered at once, and in a few moments they met, and taking
hands, ran for half a mile without stopping, as the yelling ‘
was rising fast and furious from the camp. They paused by
mutual consent near the place where Carroll concealed his '
rifle.
' “ Well ?” said the hunter, in a questioning tone.
“ You hear them," said the young man.
“ What raised such a row ?" ‘
“ I think I have broken the head of our friend, La Force.
I have struck many a good blow in my time, but none with
such good will as the one I gave him.” '1
“ Ah! Then you struck him ‘1’” I
" He took that girl by the shoulder as if she were a man.
I thought he would have struck her, he was so angry. She‘
told him to let her go. He did not, and I was within reach
'Ind 50—”
‘t You struck him. Well, you saw her then 1‘”
“ I had a long talk with her.”
“ Why did you not bring her away ?" r r
“ Because she had promised that scoundrel that sht would ,
not attempt to escape to-night. She would not break hark '
word.” I t ' ' '

, _“ She keeps her faith well with a. vllllan. Butlhs'ld m ,~_ , '

Have you given up the attempt t” , ’

\

 

 

     
  

 

 

  

  

 

A mama THOUGHT.

,“ No. I go tomorrow night.”

'“ You will be taken."

“ I care not. Having seen and talked with her, I would
go through fire and water to do her a service. When I came
away she asked me not to fail her. And so, God helping
me, I will not.”

“Did you speak to her of her birth? Did you ask her

' who Were her parents, and how she came in the hands of
the Shawnees? You should have asked her that," said the
hunter eagerly.

“ I did,” said Carroll.

“ And what did she say i"

“ She had no idea. Taken when a chid, she has lost all
recollectiOn of the manner in which it was done. She only
knows that she was brought in by the Chief Wah-ta-ha,"

“ The Vulture 3‘"

’ “ Yes.” ~

“ I am racked by doubt. If this thought which comes into
my brain to-night should be the true one, I shall be repaid for
my weary years 0: sufl'ering. If it should be true i If I have
found her at last i”

“ What are you thinking of ?"

“ My daughter. My darling Molly. The Vulture said she
lived, and that he alone knows the place where she is to be
found. As God is my judge, I believe that the prophetess is
my daughter I lost, so many years ago.”

“ I snall not have a lukewarm companion now i” cried
the young man, grasping the hand of the other. “ You will
be witn me now in this matter. You will not think of dan-
ger. knowing what you do. We will force the truth from
this devil upon earth, the Vulture. He shall say whether
this is the child you have sought so many years, among all
the tribes who came down from the North. I believe as you
do, that you have found your child, and that you shall yet
see many, very many happy days.” 7

'v The hunter returned the cordial pressure of the young

’ " man’s hand.

“ If it should be all a dream, after all, if she should not be
my child, I am afraid I should go mad. You have raised me
to the skies, Carroll. Do not let me fall.” ,

  
 
     
    
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
 
    
 

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/ ‘ t
“You agree with me at least in this—thegh-l must be

saved from La. Force.” '-

“ Yes, yes. The sooner the better. I will be with you in
this. In the mean time, we must find a place to hide, for the
Indians are mad, and will be close upon the trail at early
morning."

“ Do you know any place to hide ?" ‘

“ Many places which would‘do if they did not know the
country. I should find one of the limestone caves and block
up the entrance, but they know every hole of the kind as
well as I do, and would notice any change. No, we must
break the trail, and then get to the mountains. Yonder peak
would do if we could reach it. I know a place upon that
mountain where two resolute men could keep an army buck.
I do not think either of us would fniter now.”

“ Not I, at least. Shall we go on to-night ?" ‘

I “ No. Lie down and get a little rest. I will wake you at
the first light."

Taking a. stone for his pillow, the hardy young soldier lay  .

down beneath a tree, and slept as soundly as if he had been
under his father’s own roof. At early morning the hunter
touched him, and told him it was time to be on the way.

A gray mist was rising from the lowland in which they 1a , I I V

hiding every object from view. This pleased the Indian-
Slayer, for he knew that it would make the trail obscure and
render pursuit slow. /
Upon reaching. the first creek, he plunged in at once, fol-
lowed by his companion, and waded resolutely up stream
through water now at the knees, then at the uncles, then L’; ".23
thighs, keeping their guns and ammunition well out of hanzfs
way. The course of the hunter was toward the mountain. of t

which he had spoken the night before, a. rocky peak, whizh‘  '
Carrol could see rising through the gray mist a short distance 
In a few moments they were clambering up the I L " 2

In front.
rocky side, toward the summit. I Half way up the hunter
passed, and listened. The savages were already on the move,
end their signals could be heard rising out of the fog almost

s.

ot their feet.

7‘ We" are Very near museum,” said young I.  V a I I  

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‘t They have just started. If it had not been dark, you
would have seen that the camp is just at the foot of this
mountain.”

“ Then it will he very easy to make a descent upon them.”

“ I had that in my mind when I came to this place. They
will hardly think of looking for us so near the camp. I
think they will he puzzled to find our trail. Come on."

They went on slowly until the path seemed to end abrupt‘
ly in a rocky wall, about as high as a man's head. Alter
tossing his rifle to the top of this ledge, and bidding his com-
panion do the Same, the hunter Seized the edge with his
hands and climbed to the top. The place was a'little gulch
in the mountain-top, to which you could descend by the
rough ledges. But upon the top was a platform about one
hundred square feet in extent, completely concealed from the
View of those on the level ground below by the natural battle-
ment over which they had climbed. From their elevated
perch, they could look down into the camp of the Indians
dimly seen through the rising fog. The cries of the savages
began to extend over a greater extent of plainI and the two
men knew that they were out upon the trail, in search of the
man who had slain their companion. ,

The fog litted,and a grand panorama was exposed’to view.
On the right lay the higher ranges of the mountains, rising
in successive ridges one above another, the towering peaks
seeming to pierce the very shy. Below them lay a plain
wdtered by many silver creeks, and front the midst of the
plain rosn the smoke of the Indian encampment, with its
sylvan huts.

But few Indians remained in the encampment. The rest
were following the trail. La Force, with an inveterate hate

I aroused by the blow he had received, led the pursuit. They

could see him directing the movements of the Indians, and
giving counsel to the chief.

Looking into the camp, they could see that Atta had come
ti-om her lodge, and was standing outside, eagerly questioning
the men who came into camp from time to time, in regard to
the success of the pursuit. I I 7

They gave it up at last, and returned to the camp. The
by was spent by them in indolent enjoyment, and lying at'

 
 

   
 

    

n m Emma's? non.

lazy ease, under the tall trees. Toward afternoon there was
a' show of activity among them, as if preparing for the re-
ception of some coming guests. About three in the. afternoon
there was a tumult, and a messenger came into the camp.

CHAPTER IX.
momma. AICAPTIV'E.

Tm: messenger had not been long in. camp, when a troop
of ‘French infantry, without music, marched into the camp. I ‘
They were about forty in number, and looking lilre men, wore.
thy to fight in the cause of their country. Their leader was
a. young man, with an erect, military figure, who returned the
greeting of La Force, warmly, while a subaltern, Drouillon,
took charge of the men, This unfortunate young omcer,‘
who was fated to fall at the beginning of his career, was th
monville, of whose murder Washington was accused in the
translation of the treaty by Jacob Van Braane. . 7
, He was a merry, light-hearted young man, who deserved a,

‘ better fate than that which was his before two days had
passed over his head. He took the arm of La Force, and led\ -
him aside.

“ What have you done 2” he said.

“ Major Washlngton and his forces lie at a place called Little
Meadows, on the 9th. For myself, as the war has not com- v
menced, I have been in the settlement of Gist, (in search of ‘
deserters,.I told them.) and have met Washington himselfl
If those accursed Virginians had not come to his aid, I
should have had him a prisoner by this time"; ' '

“ Has he a large force at this place ‘2”

“ Not very large. Not half ours.” I

“ Listen, then, my friend. I am sent to tell the English tok
get enter the country, for it is ours. My orders are token; \
men-ad figigutefl  of the forceflashinstoa hag-iii"
my, WWW? drive him out; in   .

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‘30 kindly, and between us as friends, I don’t think he will.
But we must be Very elrcumspect. Between us, again, it is
an open question whether they might not justly treat us as
spies. When we have learned all we can, we will summon
them to retire, and go on our way rejoicing."

“ I understand. But why not go at once to Washington’s
camp? I will make pretexts enough to keep us there two
or three days. I kept Washington a week at Venango, and
made the poor KalilKing so drunk that he danced the war-
danee on the table. But I have something else to tell you."

“ And what is that? My orders will not let me go to the
‘5 ' ' ‘ English camp.”

“Some cursed Englishman is lurking, about this camp.
Last night I was at the spring, talking with the prophetess,
‘and somebody knocked me down. I have been kicked by a
horse, in my time, and if I may have a choice, I say, let me
be kicked again sooner than stand such a buffet as that."

“Ha, but You reason soundly. And did yourfind the
rascal Y" ,

“ Not I. We found one of the Shawnees, however, with a
knife—wound in his breast. The man must have been a hardy
fellow, for it was one of the stoutest braves in the band."

“ Did you find his trail 1’"

-“ Yes. There was another man with him, who, the Indians
say, is the man known as ‘the White Hunter. It would be a

“good deed to seize him. He is doing our cause great hurt

' ,‘ among the Shawnees, for they fear him so greatly that they

hardly dare to go out upon the war-trail when he is in the

country. They look upon him as a very devil. I made my

way into Washington’s camp on purpose to see him, but the

fellow had escaped and taken news to the rangers that their

kleader was in danger. They came down on the run, and
scattered us to the tour winds.”

“ This is really of moment. If our camp is known to

these men, it will not do to stay here. We must change t0~

\ morrow." ‘

\ “I would advise, by all means, change to-night. We have

. ‘ driven these fellows away, but they may return at any mo-

:I'nent, hang on our trail, and report to Washington where we
Ire. — We should have him on our backs Define "the morning,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 
   

    

 
 

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,wlth Gist andCroghan, and the riflemen of the ‘ Wild Hunter
of the Shawnee." No, we must stay here.” ‘

“ It shall‘ be as you say, though my men are very weary,

' and Want rest. Drouillon l" ’ '
' The suhaltern appeared.

“ See that the men are ready to march in an hour. From
\ hat I have heard from Jean, it is not safe to stay here. Do
you know other good places to pitch a camp, Jean 1’"

“ Oh yes. Trust me for that. Let the men rest an hour.
But. gracious heaven! what is that ‘3"

The finger of the man pointed upward, with a wavering
motion, as if in fear. The object which drew his attention
was seen by all in the camp. Upon the highest pinnacle of
the mountain which rose behind them, two huge figures
stood out against the sky. Whatever the state of the atmos-

here which caused the strange appearance, the figures were
those of the two spies, who had come out upon‘ the moun-
tain to get a better view of the camp. By some strange
fi'eak,‘ which the elements never seem to tire of playing, their
figures were magnified to an alarming extent. Many of the

: Indians, uttering cries .of terror, threw themselves prostrate
upon‘the sod. The Vulture stood haughtin erect, regarding
the figures with a wary eye. The sun, half hidden bya pass-
ing cloud, burst out in full splendor. The figures dwindled
to their ordinary proportions, and the chief cried out aloud :

“ Yonder is the Black Rifle. Yonder is the man who
kill/ed our brothers. Shuwnecs, if ye are not women, rise up I
and follow me 1” H q.

“ We are discovered," said the hunter, looking at his com-

:panion. “ This is the time to try of what stuff we are made.
One of us' must escape, and carry the news to Washington.
The other must stay here and defend this mountain pass.
Look down, and you will see that only one man can pass
through the gorge at. a time. We can stand here and pick
them ofl’ two at a time. But when they come so fast that '
we can not keep them back longer, one of us must run, and _.
jhe other stay to guard this place. Which shall it be t”

“ I will do it," said the other. “ I gave that girl my word ,
that I would come into the camp and rescue her. I can,“

r fiilothat, but!can'goinasaprisonerfindlwillfl , -

. .J -..a

 

A moon? mas. I 75

“ Don’t think that 1 will desert you,” said the Black Rifle,
eagerly. “ I only escape to get help, and come to your aid.
It is not far to the camp of Washington.”

, “Be it as you say. Here come the Indians. If that big
\. chief comes in sight, I will mark him for life.”

“ No, no; do not shoot him. He is the only one who can

tell us if yonder girl is my daughter. Promise me that he
x shall be safe in any case."

“ I promise. Get ready your rifle.”

The pass through which the Indians must come was scarcely
three feet wide. As they came near it, a thought seemed to
strike the hunter, and speaking to his companion, they leaped
over the recky wall and ran down to the mouth of the pass,
leaving their rifles behind. It was a spot to make a new
Thermopylte. On one side stood the Indian-Slayer, strong,

. erect, stern, holding his knife and hatchet ready, and a look
t I of steady determination upon his brave old thee. On the

' ‘ other side stood the soldier, armed in a like manner, with the
I addition of pistols at his belt. The Indians could be heard
I scrambling up the rocky pass, yelling as Indians only can

upon the war-path. Just before reaching the opening, there

was a turn in the pass, which hid the first one from the sight

of those directly behind him, so that they could not see his

fate. The moment the tufted head appeared, the hatchet of

the Indian-Slayer gleamed on high, and was buried to the very

eye in the brain of the Indian, who sunk, a mass of quiver-

";n-g ' ing humanity, at the very feet of the destroyer Another

' came on, and the weapon of the young soldier was redduned

with his blood. For ten dreadful moments the men stood

there, and every moment was death to an Indian. All .the

time the chief was calling to his men to push on, never

’dreaming that every man who had passed the opening was

' stark and stiff in death. Those who followed had heard the.

- cries of those preceding, and had not thought them diti‘erent
C from those of their comrades in the rear.

The eleventh man came on, and Carroll struck him. The

, ‘ ' a ' Indian wore a. head-dress of stout heron feathers, which bent

ma cracked like reeds. But the feathers were fastened in a

pad of solid leather, which broke the force of the blow, and.

We! staggering forward as all the others had done, he

 

 

 

 

m mamas! non.

threw up :his arms and went reeling back against the next
man, who caught him in his arms, utten‘ing a yell of dismay,
and shouting back some words to the Indians in the rear.
The result was a general stampede, and in five minutes the

pass was clear, while the chief reviled them in the Shawnee

tongue in words which other than ludians’ lips could not
have framed. But when he saw that so many of his men
were left in the pass, he foamed with rage and ordered them
again to the attack, after picking out five men for a hazard-
ous service, of which he was to he the leader.

The Indians went up the pass from below more carefully,
and the first man, a cool old warrior, held his weapons ready,
,and sprang out into the open space with a bound, eludinga
blow from the hatchet of the Indian Slayer and a thrust from
the hunting knife of his friend. Leaving Carroll to guard
the pass, the hardy woodman sprang upon his new foe, and
joined with him in a deadly encounter. The savage had the
same arms as his enemy, and for a moment held him at bay.
But, whirling round in the struggle, he saw that his young

friend had a hard struggle to maintain the pass, and the sight .

seemed to steel his arm anew. Throwing himself upon his

huge antagonist, he broke down his guard, and laid him pros- .

true by a blow from the hatchet. Springing to the [aid of
his friend, he happened to cast his eyes upward, and saw
that the chief with his five men had reached the summit of
the ridge. It was a bold and adventurous deed, for the ledge
up which they had come to gain the summit, was almost
perpendicular, and it was certain death to fall. Luckily, they
had not been able to bring their firearms, or they could have'
picked ofl‘ the two men from the ridge. Seeing that it must
take them some time to descend, the hunter rushed on, and
helped his companion to heat back the coming foe.
“ Run for it now,” he cried.

The two men dashed up the mountain and threw themg ,‘
selves over the rocky wall again. Up to this time not a shot ‘

had been fired, or the French, who remained idly looking on,
would have advanced to the aid of their Indian friends. But
the silent weapons had done fearful (Execution and sadly it

minished the, number of the band. Asvthe first manlemog- ,

edfiam theopeningthefsmoularifiewuhttedmndhem

 
 

   
 

   

  

 

 
  
   
 

 

 

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down to add one more to that bloody pileblocking the
mouth of the pass. Another man came out, and the rifle of
Carroll spoke, and that Indian chased the deer in the hunt»-
ing-grounds beside the Happy River. A shrill call from the
chief now called his men to cover, and he sent down a mes‘
edge to Jumonville demanding aid, and stating the number
of his (lead. Jumonville was thumlerstrucln “ Mon Dieu l"
he cried, “have they an army up there? I have only
heard two rifles and thought the tight had only just begun."

The messenger explained how it was, dilating on the strength
and fury of the two men. It was the fellow whose head-piece
had saved him from the blow of Carroll, and he had a whole-
some regard for the safety of his noddle. IIe represented the
Indian-Slayer as being fully as high as they had seen him on
the mountain, and with a. tremendous ax, with which he
split the heads of the Indians who entered the pass. Fur-
thermore, flames issuued from his mouth, accompanied by
words in an unknown tongue. He was aided by a. satellite
nearly as tall as himself, who had wounded him on the head.

Jumonville took this story with the usual allowances, and
ordered his men to be be put in motion up the slope. In the
mean time, not another shot had been fired, and the two spies
were out of sight behind the bluff. Jumonville sent La.
Force with a flag, explaining that as they could not hope to
defend the position successfully against his forces, it might be
well to surrender. They :tsked half an hour to deliberate.
It was granted, and the hunter availed himself of the time to
make his escape.

This he accomplished by swinging liiiiiSelf down into the
branches of a. pine which grew close to the mountain. Reach-
ing the ground, he stole across the open space below into a.
narrow gorge which concealed him from view. When the
half hour was fully 'up, the young soldier agreed to give him-
self up and came down from the mountain. His arms were
taken from him, and he was led into the presence of the
chief, guarded by Indians.

_“ Where is the Wild Hunter ?” asked the chief.

“ He is gone."

' “‘JA; Shawnee haseyes and can see that he is you. But
Wuhan he gonemdhowl Heliuthth todylnthe

 

 

78 , {mm mm' non.

sir. ~1Why‘hns the Wild Hunter run away like a dog that
puts its tail between its legs and runs away when there in
danger? He has killed many braves, and now he is gm.”

“ When the chief was a prisoner, did he not escape? The
talk of the chief is not good.”

“ Why does the green-coat come into the land of the
Shawnees ‘2” demanded the chief, angrily. “ The land is ours
and we will give it to our French fathers. But no English-
man shall live here. Always the Shawnees and Delaware:
have hated the chgees. They are as dogs and the sons of
dogs. We shall slay them\all."

“ Do not make the chief more angry than he is,” said La
Force. “ You will have trouble enough as it is, since you
have killed so many of his men."

“ Listen i” cried the Vulture; “ and see that you speak true.
Where is- the Wild Hunter of the Shawnee ?” . ~

“ He left me on the hill. What had I to do with him i" '

“ He is ours,” answered the chief, “ and we will have him.”
Calling to his side an active looking brave, he gave, him some
directions in a low tone, which he hurried off to execute.
In less than ten minutes from that time half a dozen runners,
under his leadership, had struck the trail of the Indian~Slayei,
and followed, determined to hunthim to the death. »

Carroll was led down into the camp, and preparations were
made for leaving it immediately. But the dead were to be
buried, and in the hurry incident to the work, the prisoner
was bound to a tree and left to his own reflections. While
in this position Ana-Care's light touch fell upon his shod.
der.

He turned quickly, and greeted her with a beaming smile,

‘ and a lookof admiration which even his position could not
change. He had come to her as he had promised but not as
be had hoped. There was a world of cemmiseration in her
beautiful face as it was upturned to his own.

“ You have brought yourself into danger for me,” she said,

in a low, sweet voice, different from the ringing tone inwhich
'she had addressed the Indian. “I am very sorry.”
“ Thank you. That repays me for all.

 mat-mandrel,if Lean.” .  

Will you not‘he’
have that I am ready to do any thing for you! I I willeian 
, . ' ' . ,TD

  

 

 

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A wmsrannn commuron.‘ 70

“ Have you made the Vulture very angry r"

“ I am afraid I have. But I surrendered to the French."

“ Do not depend upon that. The French never interfere
with their Indians. They will 'give you up to them if they
ask for you. Have you killed any of their men ?"

“ See them yonder," he answered.

The Indians were coming down the side of the mountain,
bearing their dead. As Atta saw the number of corpses, she
gave a start, for she knew that the young soldier could expect
nothing but the ordeal of the twelve fires. The faces of the
Indians were gloomy as they came in from their sad errand
and made ready for their departure. Atta left the side of the
prisoner, saying that she must not be seen talking with him,
lest she should he watched. They broke camp in the course
of half an hour, marched three miles and made a new camp
in the midst of the woods. As before, they fell to work
making lodges, and in a short time a miniature village had
grown up in the wilderness. Carroll was put in one of the

, largest lodges under a strong guard.

When the hunter dropped from the body of the pine tree,
and made his way into the gorge, he hurried forward at a
brisk pace, anxious to put as much space as possible between
nimself and the hill. He knew that the vindictive Indian
would send runners on his trail, and he was hardly in a con-
dition to meet them. In the encounter with the savage the
last time, he had been wounded on the arm, and the out had
bled profusely, making him weaker than he would have liked
to admit. He hurried on, however, but before he had gone
three miles he was satisfied that the runners were upon his
track.

The man whom the Vulture had selected for the perilous
task of capturing the redoubtable Indian-Slayer, was well
chosen. From the facility with which he was able to follow
a blind path, he had obtained an Indian name, signifying
the Trailer. Among,r the French he was known as Le
Diable, from the celerity of his movements, and a habit of
using black paint. He was brave in battle, unapproachable
In the use of the hatchet, and a swift runner.

It was in the aftemoon of a. remarkably clear day in May,
ad the trail was plain before them, for the hunter was in-

 

    

86 m sums’ son.

such haste that he had no time to cover it. Hence the In-
dians were able to follow it almost on the run, with the
Trailer at their head. 'l‘oiling up the slope of the last ridge

before he reached the level country, near which WashingtOu 4

lay encamped, the hunter looked back, and saw the Indians
issuing from the woods in close pursuit, not a quarter of a
mile away. The sight lent him new energy, and he bounded
on with a speed equal to that of all but the Trailer, whom
he could see at a glance was his superior. But he never
faltered, but pressed steadily on, until he reached the summit.
They had seen him, and were yelling like all the under fiends.
Two passed around the foot of the mountain to a well-known
pass, and the other five followed him up the hill. From the
place where he stood he could see the river gleaming in the

sunshine a hundred feet below. There was no descent from V

this point, and he ran farther down, when the two Indians,
who had been sent round by the path to meet him, appeared
in the path coming up. The path through the pass was
shorter than that over the summit, and they were before him.

An angry flush rose to the forehead of the hunter, and
taking a station on a commanding point, he called upon the
Indians to halt. “ Go back," he said, “ I hate your race;
but there is blood enough on my hands for this day. . Let
me go away safely.”

The Indians were near enough to hear his voice, and am
swered by a derisive laugh. “We will not go back," said
the Trailer; “the Wild Hunter has run his race, and his
scalp must hang in the smoke of a Shawnee Wigwam.”

“ Not in yours,” said the hunter, taking his rifle from his
back. “ I give you one more chance. Go back as you came.
and it shall be well between us.” I

The Trailer laughed again, and the long rifle came sharply

. to the shoulder of the hunter. If the Trailer reckoned on ,

the time it would take for an aim to get under cover, be
reckoned without his host. The breech of the rifle had
barely touched his shoulder, when the report rang out sharp
and clear, and the Trailer had run the last man to earth, and,
fell, with a bullet in his brain. ,

But six men against an antagonist with an empty rifle in

    
 

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iced. He turned and ran up the mountain farther, until he
reached a place full eighty feet above the river, which at this
point Was very deep. The descent of the wall was so steep,
that he could clear it with a leap. Kissing his trusty ride as
if it had been a sweetheart, he laid it reverently down upon
the rock, flung his hatchet full in the face of a savage who
was climbing up toward hitn, and then leaped.

While the body yet quivered in the air, three of the sav-
ages got sight at him with their ritles, and ‘pulled trigger.
The next moment he struck the water and disappeared, leav-
ing a dark red stain. The Indians crept out to the edge of
the bluff, and looked down. The water had closed above
the spot, and the ripples had ceased, but he did not rise. To
all appearance the Trailer was right when he said that the
race of the Wild Hunter was run.

After waiting half an hour for some sign of him,the In-
dians turned back, and buried the dead warrior. Then, c01-
leeting the trophies of the hunter, they returned to camp, and
told that the hunter was dead. '

CHAPTER X.
A STROKE iron LIBERTY.

CARROLL was not the man to fold his hands idly when he
had any chance of escape. As Seen as the guard had been
placed, he set to work relieving himself of his bonds. These
consisted of cords drawn tightly at the ankle, knee, and
elbow, so that he was forced to lie at length upon the floor
of the hut. To free himself from the fetters at the elbow
was the first thought, and he began to work his arms up and
down and with great pain to himself and mush chafing, he
was able to work one of the cords down below the elbow.
'Rolling over and over, he reached one of the poles which
supported the lodge, and managed to struggle to his feet
against it. There was a hard knot upon it, which came
almost to an edge, and he began to work his elbows uy

I! mm mm m g
and down on this. Tireless as the man who digs a way
through a sold wall which stands between him and liberty|
he worked on. An hour passed, and he was still at his
work. But he felt that the cord was cracking under the
efforts he was making, and throwing his great muscular
power into his strong arms, he burst the frail thread which
still hung together, and the bonds upon his arms dropped
to the ground.

To stoop and untie the cords at his knees and then at
his ankles, was the work of a moment, and he stood within
that hut a free man, but he was so weak and henumhed
by the tightness of the cords, that the moment he was no
longer supported by them he fell to the ground.

Raising himself to a sitting posture, he began to rub his

limbs vigorously, to get back the slackened circulation, and

' succeededso well that in a few moments he was able to rise
again to his feet, and peep out at the door of the lodge. The
guard in front stood about ten feet away, leaning against the

trunk of a. small tree. He had a hatchet and knife in his,

belt, and was a determined-looking fellow enough, and brother
to the “ Trailer," whose friends had come in an hour before
with news of his death. He would watch over the man who
must be sacrificed for the life of his brother, and the many
braves they had buried who had died at the mountain
pass.

The prisoner went to the back of the tent, and found a
small opening among the branches, which were twisted in to
form the walls“ From this he could see that a guard was
placed in the rear, who was equally watchful. Going to the
sides he found the same here. ’ '

Searching about on the ground at the foot of the wall, he ‘

found a hickory club, about five feet long and four inches in
circumference. This'would do for a weapon, for the want
of a better. But he could do nothing while the moon shone

so brightly. It would be down in an hour, and arranging ‘

the cords loosely on his limbs, in case one of the enemy
should look in, hp lay down and waited for darkness.
Once the guard in front came and looked in at the door;

- but the prisoner was lying on his side, with his face toward ’ ; I
ultdoor, and appeared to be sleeping. The savage went ‘ ‘ ”

    
 

     

 

 

 

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away again. Then the darkness came, and the young sex-
gcant nerved himself for the work before him. ‘

Grasping the club, ready to strike the first object which
came in his way, he pushed aside the curtain. The only
light came from the stars, and he could just make out the
figure of the Indian leaning against the post.

Dropping upon all fours, and keeping against the side of the
lodge, he got away from the door, and advanced boldly to ,
ward the guard, whom he knew must be met. So sudden
was his advance, that he was within striking distance before
he was seen. A short ejaculation, a sudden blow, and Car-
roll had bounded over the prostrate form of the Indian,
whirling his weapon over his head.

The wild cry of the Indian had aroused the camp, and the

'gusrds were on his track hethm he passed the tree against

which the Indian had been leaning. In the darkness of the
forest he knew not which way to run, so he kept on .the
course he had first taken; but lights were; flashing through
the woods in all directions, and 'French cries mingled with
those of the savages. The young man was not surprised,
when an erect military figure rose suddenly in the path before
him, with a stern,

“'Qui vive l"

“ A friend of France,” he answered, in French.

“ Noni enemie de la. France. En avant."

“ Can you speak‘ English 1’"

“ Non.”

The words of the two brought up the sergeant of tho
guard, who knew a few words of English. “Who are you t"
he said. »

“An Englishman. I have escaped from the Indians Inc
demand to be led to your commander."

“ It shall be done, mon camarade. Let us go to mm at.‘
once.” ’ '

He took him by the arm in a friendly manner. and led
him away. ‘ Five or six soldiers were ohliging enough to ac-
company them, of course merely in a friendly spirit. Jumon-
ville and La Force were standing together at the door of the
but which they had made their headquarters, and cursing the
upmar- which would tell every Indian who might be prowling

 

  

   

    

 

84 m mwnu! Fox.
0
in the neighborhood, where he had made his camp The
jovial face of the young commander was clouded as the
guard approached.

“ How is this, Drouillon? Was all this noise necessary?”

“Sire,” said Drouillon, saluting, “the English prisoner

A who was taken by the Indians has escaped, and fallen into
' our hands.”

3 “ Where is he ?”

“ Here, sire,” replied the sergeant, pushing the prisoner to
the trout. “ He demanded to be brought to you.”

The young men looked at each other In silence for a few
moments.

“ What is your name ?” demanded Jumonville. “Give an
account of yourself.”

“ Although I do not recognize your right to ask it in that
way, I will tell you that I am an Englishman, a soldier in
Washington’s Rangers, who was taken prisoner yesterday by
the Indians. My name is James Carroll.”

“I heard that such had been the case, though I have had
no time to see you. You escaped to-night ‘9”

“ I did; and if it had not been for your men I should be
safe. I demand your protection.”

“ Upon what grounds ‘3’

“As you are a man and a soldier. Is not that enough?"

“ It is enough," said Junionville. “ I will see that you
have no wrong. Sergeant Drouillon, I give this gentleman
into your charge. If you will give me your honor'not to
attempt to escape, you shall have the range of the camp.”

“I give you my honor that I will not attempt to escape

V for the present. If I change my mind, I will tell you.”

“ Good-night,” said J umonville, “ and good rest."
“ Good-night," repeated Carroll.

v “ By my soul, brother,” said the jolly French sergeant, as
they walked away arm—in-arm, “ you know right well how to
reach the heart of a man. There is no appeal which you
could make to our gallant captain, which would touch him
half as quickly as that. ‘A man and soldier?’ He is a
man like the peerless Bayard—Sans peur et sans reprochel
You did well to appeal to him, then. Did you kill any
of, the savages in your, escape ?"

Y

 

 

 

  

MEETING or m swans. 05'

“I had a club in my hand," replied Carroll, “ and I struck
a man who stood in my path. Whether he is dead or no I
can not tell.” ‘

Drouillon touched the arm of the speaker, felt the folds of
stout muscles rising one above another, and said, with a light
laugh, “ lie is dead,”

“ Why ‘2"

“ When a man with such an arm as that strikes in anger,
woe to the object. But come; we are now at my quarters 3!
take a rest for this night, for by my soul, to-morrow may be
a. busy day to some one."

Carroll thanked him and went into the hut. Drouillon
gave him a blanket, a knapsack for a pillow, a cup of liquor,
and left him to his rest. He slept as only a man can who
has fought and run a weary day through. He woke at early
morning, and walked out into the camp. Here, by some
chance, he met La Force. {

“ I have looked for you a long time, young sir," said the
agent. “ Last night, when my friend the captain gave you
your parole, I said nothing, for I had something to say to
you which I did not care to have reach other cars. Perhaps
you may remember me ?”

“ I do remember your face, sir, and with your face I am
familiar. You are called Jean La Force.”

“Right You will call to mind the time on which you
remember meeting me}?

“ It was‘ at the spring on the outskirts of your old camp.
You were speaking with the English girl called Atta-
Cara.”

“English, did you say ?”

“ English.”

“ Who told you ?”——then correcting himself—“ What «is
you mean by calling her English ?"

‘ “ By the best authority in the world, my dear sir.”

“ And that?”

“ Is her own."

“ Ah 1 then you have spoken with her 1’” ‘ '

“ I have. With my will, it shall not be the last time. _

“You had been speaking with her on that night at the

mine?"

 

  

 
 

    

85 um mmns’ non.

“ My dear sir, year penetration is truly surprising; it is
indeed." .

“You flatter me. You heard my conversation with this
Indian girl 1’"

“ English. Allow me to correct.”

“ You persist in calling her English.”

“ I must, having her authority.”

“ Very well, then; you heard my Conversation with this
Indian-English girl, pardon me, at the spring on that eVening l’" .

"I am." . "' ' "P

“ Was it the act of a gentleman ?”

“I was with her when you came, and it was impossible
for me to get away. I was leaning against a tree, so near
you, that if I had attempted to escape, then, you would have
detected me at once."

“ Ahl then you struck me? Why?”

“ Because you were insulting a woman. You will not ‘
deny that you used bad language to her, and took her by the
shoulder.”

“ No matter. I demand satisfaction for that blow.”

It must be remembered that in these early days the code
of honor was the law to guide mens’ actions. An insult
brought a blow, and the blow a challenge. Then two men
would go out under God’s blue sky, and the lucky man would
kill or maim the other. This they called giving satisfaction.
It would have been more manly, if fight they must, to go , ‘
out and fight with the weapons God gave. n g

“ I am ready to meet you.” ‘ ’

“ Choose your weapons." ,

“ Sword and dagger.” "

“ What sword do you use i”

“ The double-edged cut-and-thrust is my weapon. Being
unarmed you must supply me with a weapon."

“0h, certainly. That shall be my care. It will be well
to get the matter over to-day. You of course understand
sword-play or you would not choose that weapon.” ', .

“ I play a little." - ‘ 7 ~

“ That is well, for I pride myself somewhat upon the use ' "
of the sword. It is a Frenchman’s weapon.” *

They   Carroll went away in search at Drouill

 

  

r

 

  

o “1 now You.” a
who was the only man whom he coulo. ask to act as his

second in the affair. Whut Frenchman would refuse such an

rotilce? and Drouillon expressed himself charmed that they

were to have a. bit of sport. He went away and inet the

second of Le Force, nnother sergeant, and nrrnnged the meet-

ing. They were to fight in the afternoon, in the open ground

of the camp, in the presence of the whole force.

Alta-Cure come to the sergeant as he set under an oak
tree, tightening n buckle of his sword-belt which had been
loosened in his perilous tramps in the forest. There was on
expression of the greatest concem upon her lovely face.

“ You are going to fight this man," she said, eagerly.

“ Certainly. I struck him, and he has the right to demand
satisfaction. It is a. strange thing ; you may lay a man’s
shoulder open, or run a sword through his body and not a
word will he said.‘ But strike him, and he will not be setis-
fled unless you run him through the body in addition to the
blow. My man now has had the blow, and nothing will do
but. I must perform the other office for him.” ‘

“ But you must not fight. I have heard the French talk,
and they say he is the best swordsman in the Province. You
will be killed.”

“ I hope not. I have some reputation as a swordsman.
My fencing—master, Van Brasme, can do nothing with me."

“ StillI em troubled. I wish you would promise not to
fight." I ‘
~“ I am glad you take on interest in my fate,” he said, look-
ing into her eyes, which were downcast in a moment. “It
will give me nerve in the battle. Believe me, I shall fight
the better.”

“ You would not have been in this danger but for me. I
should be ungrateful if I did not feel an interest in your fate."

They were standing under the trees a. little apart from the
camp. He took her hand and led her furthtr into the
shadow, and spoke rapidly, but to the point. They were
blunt wooers “in our grundfnthers’ days.” '

“ I love you,” he said. “ You may be angry with me for
the presumption, but my love will remain the some. Give
me the right, as Lflght this battle, to fight for one I love, and
I shell do well.” .

 

  

   

    

     

88 'nm unmas’ iron.

Sue was silent, but her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. ‘

“ Your beauty and graces have won upon me, from the mo-
ment I heard you speak so boldly and so well in the cause
of the English, at {he council-fire. I was near you then. I
saw you escape from the hands of your captor, and getaway
into the woods. You were brought back and we followed
you. We would have saved you, too, if we had not shown
ourselves upon the mountain. I am not sorry for it, since it
has given me the opportunity to speak to you. We are of.
the some blood. Say even that you may learn to love me."

“ Let it rest so,” she said, looking up timidly. “ I have no
cause to hate you.”

Such a confession was enough for a lover. He raised her
hand to his lips, and she did not repel him. Passing his
arm about her, he led her farther away from the camp, and
they sat down together upon a sunny bank. '

“ Have you any remembrance of your childhood, my dar-
ling ?" he said.

“ Some, not very distinct."

" What do you remember ?”

“ A cabin by the side of a shining river. A woman who
used to take me in her arms and kiss me. Then comes a
blank. I can not remember. I have tried again and again.
I have asked the Vulture and he will not tell me.”

“ It all lies with him, then.” i

“ Can you speak our language ?” he said. Every word
they had spoken was in French.

“ Oh, yes.” she replied, with a smile, breaking into English
and speaking it with a fluency which astonished him. “ You
can not tell how I have clung to that language. There was
a prisoner, an Englishman, who was among us for years,
and who died in the tribe. We used to have long talksJo-
gether. He died when Iwas fifteen years old, and I was
lonely. But I kept the language. Do I speak it well ?”

“So well," he replied, caressing her, “ that we will have
no more of this French jabber, but talk good, blunt English;
Shall I say again that I love you in our own native English?
Perhaps it would sound better.”

‘ “ I can not tell,” she said, clemurely.
At this interesting stage the interview was interrupted, and

 

 

.V ,r g.” x; «I.

common or LA roman. as

both rose. La Force was coming toward them, carrying two
swords and daggers in his hands. Atta started up with a
faint cry, and threw herself before her lover.

“ I am sorry to interrupt so very interesting a lemmas,” he
said, with a sneer. “ I beg your pardon, especially. I shall make
it so that I will never have cause to break up another
meeting. Monsieur, I have brought the swords. Will you

v choose ?”

‘f Are you going to fight now ‘2" she said, faintly.

“~No—do not fear," replied her lover. “ Monsieur is so
kind as to lend me a weapon. I think you had better leave
us now.”

“ You will fight if I go.”

“ Upon my honor, no.”

“ And mine,” said La Force. “ I will hide my hour. It

' will come soon enough for you both."

Atta went away and the two men were left alone. The
swords were straight, sharp weapons, very much alike.
Carroll made his choice, fitted his hand to a dagger, and was

, armed. It was a hard trial for the two men, hating each other
as they did, and holding weapons in their hands, to refrain
from battle. But each had given his word, and they went
back side by side, like brothers, not like mortal foes.

La Force, after parting with his enemy, called Atta aside
from the rest. His face was gloomy, and stem determination

 sat upon his brow.

“You love that soldier,” he said, without any appearance
of anger, “and for this reason I have called him out; I
know the result, he will die, and you will be the one who will
kill him.”

She looked him steadily in the face. “ You speak as it
you are sure. I have confidence in your enemy. All things
are in the hands of the Great Spirit; if he dies it is his destiny,

V and who shall fight against fate ?"

“ I/have fought three duels in my time,” answered La
Force, “ with the first swordsan of the provinces; I always
conquered. I shall not fail now.”

“You can not change the designs of the Great Spirit. Ii,
the‘young man is to die by your hand he must, and I, a weak

‘ ,voman, will avenge him. If, on the other hand, he has

 

  

    

90 'm mm’ m. -
longer to live, you can not kill him. Go, you are foolish. l ,
you think to frighten me.”

He flung angrily away from her, and went out into the
Woods with his second and tried the strength of his sword
with him. In the afternoon the soldiers gathered to see the
duel.

The Indians were there, gloomy and angry. The Vulture
had demanded the young soldier as their prisoner that they ’
might try him according to their law. But Jumonville re-
fused, saying that the soldier had escaped, and would nothave
been retaken by the Indians, and that he was now the properly
of the French. Hating him as the Vulture did, he took some
comfort from the fact that La Force would certainly kill him,
and came to see the fight. Atta was there, standing apart
from the rest, determined that no unfair advantage should be,
taken by the French; she had a bow in her hand, and two
arrows with broad steel heads loose in her belt. Junionville
noticed that she was armed, and asked her why.

“ If La Force takes an unfair advantage of the Englishman,”
was the reply, “ I will bury a. broad arrow to the feather in his
black heart.”

Those who knew the prophetess were tolerably certain that
she would keep her word. ‘

“ There shall be no such advantage taken,” said Jumon-
ville. “ I pledge you my word as a soldier.” ' ,

The two men stood up together, calm and confident. La '
Force was tallest of the two and his sinews were braced to
iron firmness. Carroll was also a fine specimen of forest
comeliness; his bearing'was erect and soldier-like, as he took
his position, holding the dagger in his left hand, as he did
during the entire duel. I

“ Fight I” cried Jumonville as coolly as an umpire would
call “ play ” in a base-ball match. The young men crossed
swords, each keeping his sword well up and playing for the
vital parts of the other. Sparks flew from the hissing steel,
and Jean La Force knew that the man with whom he fought
was no common enemy. He fought upon the defensive, mak-
ing the dagger act as a shield. Twice he turned aside a lstroke~
which wodld have been death to him, upon the short steel
blade, and when he had winded Lu. Force in his attempts to

   

 

' m com! mm 01

' get in a blow, he suddenly threw off his tactics and began to

attack with an impetuosity and skill which nothing could re.
sist. Jean La Force was home back. fighting foot by foot;
blood appeared upon his shoulder and breast, while the other
was only slightly wounded on the left hand by a glancing
blow upon the dagger. Atta held her breath, proud of the
prowess of her accepted lover, as he cut and thrust at the
head of his enemy, who had enough to do to defend himself
without renewing his first attack. A perfect hailstorm ol
blows rattled upon the blade of the Frenchman, who de-
fended himself with a skill worthy of his great fame.
“Awake, La Force, thou sleepest,” said Jumonville, un-
consciously using the words of the great Trojan to his brother.

' La Force rushed on his enemy with a new vigor, and for a
A time the tables seemed turned, and all the blows came from

his side ; but the ranger showed himself as skillful in defense
as he was in attack, and the blows fell innocuousupon his steel.

“ By my faith,” cried Jumonville, “he is a gallant man,
and more than a match for La Force. There, there i”

The tables had turned again, and La. Force was wounded
in, the left arm. He kept up for a time, fighting desperately,
conscious of the fact that Atta was looking on, and seeing him
beaten after all that had been said. Stepping back, he stumbled
and came to his knee Carroll dropped his point'and allowed
him to rise. The combat was about to be renewed when
J umonville interfered.

“ Thou shalt not go on, Jean," he said.

“ How ? Shall not.”

“ He has spared your life; he had you on your knee with
his point at your throat. Come, be a man, give him your
hand, and say you are satisfied.”

“I am not beaten," said La Force.

“ You are! If you make this a duel to the death, you
are a dead man. Pishl be satisfied."

La Force sheathed his sword, and advanced toward Carroll,
who stood at ease, careless whether he continued the combat
or not.

' “ You have met me well," said the Frenchman, and have
given worthy satisfaction for the blow, if three such cuts as

these may becalled satisfitction."

 

 
  
   
   
   
    
   
  
  
     
   
   
    
    

   

0t m mm’ m
‘ They shook hands.

“ I am still your enemy,” whispered La Force. “ You
have come in good time to witness a wedding. Ho, thereI
Vulture, seize her and take her to my lodge.” '

“ What means this outrage, Jean La Force ?” cried the young ,
officer.

“ This is no outrage, Jnmonville. Do not attempt to thwart
me in this. Yonder girl must be my wife; I have sworn it;
I give up my love aifairs at no man‘s pleasure, I." 

“ But why this rudeness ?" ‘7

“ 0h, content you. The girl has given me trouble all along,
and to-night [will make her my wife. Read this, and see it
you dare interfere with me.” ..

“ Dare is a hard word, Monsieur La Force,” said the young . /
Frenchman, taking the note which the other extended. ‘
“ Read it aloud," said La Force.”

"Let no Frenchman interfere to prevent the marriage of
Jean La Force and the girl known as Alta-Cara. It will be a. - >
new link to bind us to the great tribe of the Shawnees. \ v

J ONCAXRE, agent.” \

“ Why does he meddle with such dirty work ?” muttered the
young Frenchman. “ Jean, as I am alive, if I had thought
this, you should have fought your battle out with the English-
man.” ' ,

“ I am glad you interfered,” answered La Force. “ I invite ‘ - .V
All to my wedding. Where is the Jesuit ?” r V,

9' k

CHAPTER x1. 1; if

m DOUBLE sunpmsa, AND SOMETHING mm.’ " _ 2‘,
WHEN the Indian-Slayer fell from that giddy hight into the 
water of the deep river, he was wounded in the arm by a ' 1.“;
chance ball. The blood which flowed from the wound was , “E
seen by the savages, who pronounced him dead. But he -. 
knew that they were watching, with ready rifles, and would i 

riddle him with balls the moment his head appeared above : _ 

 

 

' Indian-Slayer.

 

A JOYFUL name. 93'

the surface of the stream. When he sunk, he swam under
Water until he reached the perpendicular wall of the stream,
at a place where the rock bulged out in such a manner as to

V shield him from view. Here, holding on by a fragment of

nick, he waited until the Indians became convinced that he
was gone, and went away, taking with them all the Weapons

1 0!" the Indian Slayer except the knife in his belt.

V‘Vhen certain that they had gone away, he pushed out in-
to the stream, and swam down to a place where he could
land. _ Here he bound up his wounded arm, and rose to his
feet. As he did so, he became aware that a rifle was pointed

at him from behind a rock, while a stuttering voice called

out to him to “look out, for it was a-comin’.”

‘ “Seems to me I ought to know that voice," thought the
“ Josh l”

“ You git out 1" cried a well-known voice.
Indian.”

“ What is all that noise about, Josh ‘2” demanded a stern
Voice. A ,

“ It’s an Indian, Chris, at trying to make believe he’s Cap-
tain Jack.”

[At this moment a clear whistle, one which they had used
to call each other in other days, went. sounding through the
woods, clear and shrill. No one but the Indian-Slayer could
do that.

“Oh, Lord i” cried Josh “ it’s his ghost."

Christopher Gist dashed the youngster aside, and sprang
down toward the ghost. In a moment he had him by the
hand, and was shaking it heartily, with tears of joy running
down his brown cheeks.

“ We thought you were dead, old lad," he said.
you up.”

“ Who told you ?”

“ Tanaeharisson sent in a messenger, who said that-you
were killed, and that the sergeant was a. prisoner on the
mountains yonder.”

“ You are an

“ We gave

“The sergeant is a prisoner, poor lad,” said the hunter.
“ and I was never nearer my death than I was half an hour
ago; you had better believe it. I jumped from the rock you-
der into the river.” - .

 

   

06 THE mwmms’ FOE.
me the land was his, and 10! he has taken it,and we havens!
a place we can call our own."

“ How many French did the runner see ?”

Tanacharisson held up his extended hands four times. ,

“ So many. How many Indians '3”

Tanachurisson held up his hands twice.

“ The Vulture is in the woods, and he is a brave manfnut
’32?th has taken the pay of the French, and wears their hens.
Joncaire has made a speech to the tribes at Venungo. Those
who have taken the‘French belts are eager for sculps.”

“Why do you fear the Vulture ?"

“ A bad spirit keeps him; he has the strength of ten men.
There is no man he fears but the Wild Hunter.”

“ The Wild Hunter is here,” said Washington.

“ Ugh I” cried the chief, much terrified. “ He is a. devil ,
the Indians fear him." ,

“ He hates the Vulture and fights on our side. ' He will not
strike the friends of the English. Can you guide us to the
place where the French lie?”

“ My young men know the way.”

“ Let us go at once.”

In a few moments the troops Were marching on through
the darkness in the direction of the French camp where' Ln
Force was making preparations for his marriage. The Jesuit
who accmnpanied him had agreed to perform the ceremony,
whether the girl was willing or not. Junionvilie had appealed
to the sense of honor of the Frenchman,but in vain. Atta
had claimed his protection, but he could not give it; his
superior oflicer had said that the marriage was for the good of
France and he dared not interfere. The preparations began
late and it was eleven o’clock when Attn was dragged out,
for she would not go willingly, to the unwelcome marriage.
Carroll was there, foaming with anger, and it needed the
bayonets of the guard to keep him from pringing at the throat
of the sneering Frenchman, who, seizing the wrist of the
struggling girl, dragged her in front of the priest. All around
them stood the French, holding up torches to light the open
space. A little to one side, Carroll was struggling in the‘
grasp of two men. Near him J umonville, biting his lip until
the blood started, with his hand upon his sword, hilt. ‘

     

1;;

3”

.L. A.

 

 

 

 

 

    

 
 

-vnc'. , s 

‘1 «Vii.

\

 
  
 
    
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 

 

‘ right. Among the latter, the brave but unfortunate Jumonville.

run (inmost! mmmm. fl

“ Go on, good Father,” said the latter, addressing the priest.

The ceremony commenced, but was interrupted by the deep
Voice of the sergeant.

“ For your lifel Jean La Force.
will murder you."

“ Muzzle that follow, if he speaks again," cried La Force.

“ Oh, that I had you once more upon your knee, with a
sword-point at your throat 1 Your blood should stain the 1
green sward." _ '

“ Go On," replied La Force. “ Sdeathl priest, why do you
hesitate ?"

The Jesuit again commenced. La Force made the response
in a. threatening tone. “I will,” sounded out like a challenge.
When the question was put to Atta, she answered by a loud
“ no," at the same time shrieking, “will no one aid me ?"

A response came. Breaking away from the guard, Carroll
threw himself upon La Force and took him by the threat.
The onset was so sudden that he was borne down upon his
knee, and while they struggled vindictively, a shot came from
one of the vidcttes, followed by a close volley. The camp
was attacked.

The young men separated and sprang to their feet. In
that moment of deadly peril, La Force thought of her.

“ Get her to a safe place, man,” he cried. “ To your arms,
glen. Where is J umonville ?"

Where? They were lifting him from the ground, with the
mark of a bullet in his forehead. The brave young fellow
had died at the first volley. Afterwards, the French made
use of this act to the discredit of the father of his country,
terming it the “ murder of De J umonville.”

The rattling of firearms was now incessant, and Carroll
hurried his charge to one of the huts. As he would not join
in the battle, being still under his parole, so he stood in’ the
lodge door and watched the progress of the battle. A close
fire was poured in from all quarters, which the French re-
turned briskly, though their men were falling on every side.
‘The French tired of it first and turned to run. But finding

If you do this wrong, I

xthemselves hemmed in on all sides and escape impossible,

they yielded. Twenty-one were captured, and ten slain out

 

  

"B .m mwumw won.

The Vulture glared about him like a baited bear and catch.
lng sight of the young soldier at the door of the lodge, rushed
at him with uplifted hatchet. Carroll had retained the sword
lent him by La Force, which he now drew, and received a
blow upon the blade.

“ Stand back i” he cried, “ or I will do you an injury."

“ Ah, hal the Vulture l” was the reply, as he struck again.l

“Be careful,” said the soldier. The only answer was a
downright blow, which glanced and inflicted a painful wound
in the shoulder. “ You will have it I” he cried. “ Look out."

They joined in desperate battle, the young soldier cutting
and thrusting with his sword, while his left hand was laid
upon the hilt of his dagger. As they closed in a. mad- fray,
the cry arose that “ all was lost," and the fugitives hurried I
by. Rising above his enemy like a. strong tower, and strik-
ing heavy blows, though wounded in half a dozen places
already, .for his hatchet was no match for the sword, the
Indian fought on, his painted face looking like that of a demon
under the waning light of a torch, which one of the savages
held up to light the scene.

“ Yield i" said Carroll, moved by the undaunted bravery of
his opponent.

“ I do not know what that means,” gasped the Vulture. ‘

A and light came into the eyes of the soldier, and he closed
in with a desperate determination to end all at once. He
drew the dagger and struck out, a single, desperate blow over
the collar-bone of the Indian. He fell, with the blood hub-‘
bling from many wounds. The Indian who held the torch T
flung it down and fled. Carroll lifted it and knelt by the '
side of the dying man, who regarded him with a' strange
look. I ' ' ‘

“ White man, you have triumphed, and the name of Wuh-
ta-ha, the Vulture, shall be heard of no more in the Shawnee
lodges. He will go to the happy hunting-grounds and be
happy?

Carroll lifted his head upon his knee and looked at his
many wounds; but he stopped the friendly hand with his own.

“ No,” he said, “ the end is come. The blood 'hnhblesrupr ‘ ‘
hmy throat. Icon not speak.” H _~" f ’ f _ _

.. Carrollmde a signal toAtta,and she brought—s'murd‘ .‘ -'

 

    

from the iodge,'containing water: The chief took it from
her hand, but had not strength to raise it to his lips. She
took it again and gave him drink.

“Alta-Cara," he said, in a faint voice, “I gave you the
name. When you were a child I took you away from an
English home and made you greut among the Shuwnees. I
thought you would be true to the Shawnees. But blood is
not water and your heart went out after your own people.
It is the law of the Great Spirit. 1 can not blame you. I am
all bhuwuee. Ihate the English, and curse them with my
dying breuth. But you have never wronged me. Listen.
I will tell you where you were born."

Both bent forward in eager interest. A dark form, stand-
ing just outside the circle of light. made by the torch, made a
forward motion, while the prisoners and soldiers of Washing-
ton stood farther away.

“ A white man built a cabin upon the J uniata. He was a
hunter, and he wronged no man. But he was English.
While he was away on the mountains I came—the Vulture!
I killed his wife, I took his child. Her name is Atta-Cara.
The father came back, and saw his wife lie dead beside the
smoking ruins, and his child gone. Many a time since that
hour the Shawnees have had cause to fear the man they made
mad, until men called him the Wild Hunter of the Juniata 1”

Carroll uttered a cry. “You know him ?” cried Atts;
“you know my poor father ?” .

“ He is dead,” said the Indian; “ dead. and his body lies
under the waters of the river. My young men hunted him
to death."

Atts fell upon her knees, and dropped her face upon her
clasped hands, moaning, “ Ard I shall never see him, never
see my father’s face 1”

The dark figure made a. sudden bound, and clasped the
kneeling form in his arms. It was the Indian-Slayer. His rough
face seemed glorified. Tears of joy were running down his
cheeks. ‘

y “ Who is this 1” cried Atta, bewildered. . i
, :l‘he Indian answered. Raising himself upon his elbow, as
r if he saw a spirit, he shouted, “The Wild Hunter of the
' Juniatsl” fell back and expired. Atta lifted herself, flung

TEE WLTURE ms.

 
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
    

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{b0 ' ma mamas non;

,her arms about her father’s neck, and laid her head uponhls
manly breast. That moment more than repaid them for.
years of suffering. And never, since the hour he led his:
loved wife over his humble threshold, had the heart of that
brave man felt such rapture, as now, with the head of his
long-lost (laughter pillowed on his breast.

La Force had been taken. Indeed, of all that company,
only one escaped to carry the news to Du Quesne. The wily
Frenchman had been brought back in time to see that Att'a- ‘
Cara was lost to him for ever, and was then led into the pre-
sence of Washington. '

Shortly afterward, he was sent to Governor Dinwiddie,
and paid tll-3 penalty of his crimes. He was put into prison,

“and confined for two years, the rigor used being greater than
Washington desired, though not greater than he deserved. i

Captain Jack, fearing that his daughter might be killed or
injured in the coming battles, took her to Philadélphia and‘
left her there, when he returned and employed himself and
band in defending the scattered families along the Jun'iata,
who, during this year were exposed to deadly peril. To this
'lay he is known and revered along the river.

Two years after, Carroll went to Philadelphia, in company ‘
with the old hunter. They found Attn, or Molly, improved by,
intercourse with her own people; but when Carroll asked her

the ‘question 'he had longed to ask her before, she put her . " '

hand in his, and said she would follow him to the home he
had made for her at Winchester They were married and
lived happily for many years. ’ ' ,
Josh followed the fortunes of his old master, who had be;
come so used to the life on the river that he could not give it ‘
up, even for the society of his daughter. But his winters
were spent with her, and every summer he came to see them
once, accompanied by the faithful Josh. Little 'need be said
of Christopher Gist, whose name stands out ‘ so broadly in __
colonial history. Often, when Captain Jack came down to
Winchester to see his daughter, be accompanied him, and win
as pleased as he in seeing the sometime Prophstess of till
(invites a happy wife and mother. ' ‘

 

   

  

 

 

 

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‘ tannin-Lion Dov.

  

STAND AR 1)

I DIALOGUE

S
For School Exhibitions and Home Enmtainmmts.

(on. ! Mil lulu-ho. ll go '25 Populu Dink»qu :an Drums- in much book. I... "In." 1“
Hum pnguu, uni. pen—pom, on Ymclil: of price, tun unis.

M6 & Adams, Publishers, 98 William St.. N. Y.
.— }

_____¢
'1'” volume: bun boon prep-rail with olpuInl reforenrl to the?» nvrllnbllley Inr Exhibifllvw
‘42 Mimi-ad 7: school: and uuicn vnth or wuhmc ilm i'urniium r I u mu.- m .« uuuml m s- "1;
“*3 YOUNG PEOPLE of every IKE bum m-la mui fomnio. it in H" w "lilil'w n‘
“in lo mlny uuiul and Avoilwl. Alfi‘u‘h“ nu! ‘

 

1 I in the movkat, at any piles. con
M ham: nul umlmonl.

DIME DIAMGUES, NO. 1.

" n ,no Maul-n. For nine young lmliu. Hobuohl-iug: For {in I uh".
, A". Englishman. For tum, boys. The Sacro‘ o! Suocon. n} ohm! o‘pul‘dn.
_ fl ,Imullion. 1"" main Ami rennin“ Young Amovicn. Thu. mniu our two f-mnbt
M. Ho! um indlu. Ill-01;.iiuo‘o ilk-tiny. Four lumnlu, on mu!-
‘ully of tho Duel. For “1er mule-puka

 

  
 

‘1: Mam-“l. Fx r Eh anI. .l‘ho

kw; will ynu Chooooi For two boys. lDognmii-m. For ihru moi. opening

n}. on of May. For iwa li‘silo gin-lo. [The I nonnt Confoundld. For two by.

[1 Party, For iuur lmiiu- Tho mi quu Mun. For two molds

fl; men in Wmhlorl Life. Mal-our! Domini. i'l‘ho Yonr’l Rue lining. l9 i'omnio- uni I may.

‘I. Snifiiw’ Cantu-Inn. i-‘or mg]. and formula. [Th- Vlll-go with One Guyana“ w.
Fiv- yuung imiloo. null“ un'J one mi...

lho Minion ol‘ the Spirit-
‘ ‘ DIME DILLOGUES N0. 2.
flu Goal“. of Llhlv. .

9 moln And 1 (clinic. How in rite ‘ Po niar ‘Siofioo. mu. m '
Cindoroilo or The Little (lluu Silpln’l’. iTho Nowa I i the t id. For ‘wc mold; s
in: Goo ans Saying Had. Several charoomu A Sen-Mia l M Luz. For two.
. Roldan Kala; Two mules um! um ioznuim.‘Tho Groin mm. For two mil".
floflifl of the Frlty Qunn. Slur-i {om-lo. Tho Tum Mon “Sci-nu. For (on: no”. ‘ '
For. For two ell-urn". m: Old L-dy'l Will. For {our maid.

firm in nu! Dr «7
M2 Gan-My Aron Vloit to tho City.
on! clanth

   

For m The Lini- .i'bll- h n. For two I Adam
, How 1o Hui In oi:- For flu uni“.
Two M For two min. ' Tho Viriun. For oh; you; lulu.
6h. Chwwhn. For lhroo Ind“. A Can nllhl.“ Eolo'no. .
a: oy lowly. For novmd ‘ “huh! Tho Pubiio mobtiu . “uncle-ude
11W. (7" Inn-Al olnruhm Tho Engli- . Tum: or. For two "by.

DIKE TIALOGUEB, N0. 3.
The Gnnieol Cook. For hum-la.

L 'For '- n'in mi.
MMhrplCm, For two moh- uri two (“My

gal Romy-n Nil-0min“. Fv' flan i‘ulnniu.
KuplngMGv-n Ill“. A Form. Furilvv moi“. Tho Two R mom. For two union

awning Undev 0 iflmlklu. i mlln, l loumlA. The Sum. Second moo. Fox two mama. '

laiiu'ml Rovfi—Ahubl'vsl- A Burlulquo. 4 male .‘Showirg flu Willa Youth". 4 null... l [amok
(upping the M o. m numernui mm. -‘]The mm. Call. A Ruiz-tin. FM on. m...

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 
For an 7! man yer-nun. Tin Stu bloom/4n Volunuor. I main. fl hm
Emu—Hug i1 Li, ’l'huu Jmiu nml two rennin. A Sreno frc'n “ l‘nui Fry.” For four uni”.
91ml- Ho Charity. l-‘nr um. um. glril. ‘l‘lio Chm-nu. For Ill-u molar and one ‘oumh. ‘
L‘am m 1mm Pnr mm main and ovmfi-umlo. ilao, Cluck-“vi Broom. Fov mm lil'v‘a r,va '

2m Tnv. A u'r-ml Von-w. For-ix um. girln. Tlm lligln Wu. AColloquy. l‘o- ‘ww y;
1'". Eruluhnnml Prinrauk Running-aural {unmis- Win". the Ildgfl' Snyo. For I-o m: ' r.

«nur‘ Xh’JulHM‘flYlIDlt 1|Pnlus,l feumlo. Tho Crimu .n'Druu. ACollnquy. 1

(

Yr I’M Md my; é.

 

1

 

 

  
 
  
 

it. l'IuY-ovnniumlpn,nne frmniu The Row“! ' of BJJmlancu-
Discuuion. For twenty 'lllelI. Tho Lower. by; We Influx;

DIME DIALWSUES, L l. 5.

4 annual. For Irhm! or swim. Pr‘nlnz on " .v“ flflofinquv
- Ml! A“ Thu! Par-MM ” "u re. "IhI. Siming Man 'IM
{gin tho Cnr‘lmn. Fer uni-o Ami lam-in. '7 d in. A Cohoquy.
r, In Pl Sounly- Flvo MVI Ind a (on-low .Euuct 1m NIL/an F-liuro.
Foruvonl iomnln nl‘zncun. ‘Mo-irv-Mnney. An Acting Chm-ado.
Mn in “ Trip." anm-l main. [The Six Vlrtml. For nix can: l-dlu.
ho“ ool Boy: Tribunal. For an boys. “Thu l7ln‘1mnn :1. Home or he mniu,
goo 1.3mm- Sever-i lulle- Ind hind“. ! Fuhion lbl. quninmonh. For than .
£04 to G“ on Lulu». For two i'nmulel. jA Buy o{1'l(ly0l). l'u' 013M051!!!“ “Om

‘ . ‘ DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 8.
08W:qu Re i ski-rot, Mnlo and Tami-o. Tho Two Counulm For (hm min.
I’M uh: acnidon. For tin min. Tho "omlu o! Folly. For I nun-bu oi m
Won *0“. In“ o win-no nhni. Aun‘ [Sony’s Bung. Your lunolu Ind I" no).
“mum Bin: Iflan Io-olnnnd m ml‘h‘. Tl» Lib-l Suit. For two Ion-lo- am! on. neg
hot Gold lint 0mm link out longin- Sum Clan I'll-A van-IM- 5! My;
M In. In oil a! 1n. Chum— We!“ to men: limo“
u unbound-Jon“ flo'l'I-olinp In...“

 
 

7..

 

 

 

pm 863001. Slant-Spank”: and Diuoguon.
DIME DIADEOT SPEAKER, No. 23.

g 1" Huh Jo ulnar, All about I bu. Lntut Chlmu wings, My mlghbar‘l Am

1;, Illrfllppl mingle, Scnudll, The muffle-l. domny ul Condenud big-them
VI 4 (J Md» mum: m, A dnrk “do via", the Irinlmum, Plums,

Dnu hum wt Mary is! T» «slur vny Peggy Mt-Cnun, Tlm Nureldu,

"0'. Un cunning barman, Spray. from Joln m1 Lagmdu u! Arum.
9n 6’Flnharty on wo-hluy’l shmnll vim lamb lilml, Thu ntuvu—pipe Iago.
mun" rigluu, A hulzny discuuflu. De cirvumatuncu 17!. (In: A doketur’n drnhLleg

Tho uum' rulers, how Tc;th I»: - 1» LliwuflulI, Tho coming mun.
Hilly “ Ip-Ikm," ) ‘ ‘ Dar’a uufliu new unrtor The illigunt lulu! ‘

Hezukluh Duwncl on ‘ wan}, > Ilu nun, Muldt-un'l,
IVIalhvrlhrlm-I, Hun and uh, ‘A Nvurn religions poem, 'l‘lml. little hnh‘

m damn ml the mm. ‘71]! Uudu-wwawnug Tm violin, Hm burner,

Thu him now 0! anl; in! u‘rmxlhy, 1|‘imic1hlighu, A Kunewmn inh
Iiu’l kits, 1'“, pill puddlu‘u anx- ‘0." \- ndimnu'w vh-wlv An invllnti» "

u would 1 warns I bu; linn, ‘l)nndre\|r) 's wiml-un, hirdol hum-1y,
Ignin, N ullluv Grusu’l but P]; in lnnpuugc bJ‘ lquh- Th:- rruw,

A pm.)qu new. words, L luX June, Uul. wan.

DIME DI AI OGUES No. 26.

foot cnunlnl. Three ladle: and two yantlumau. I'l’llu lesion at murky. Twa ury amnll girl;
.Iunllhlul und‘nula-hilln. Six ludili And Iv'll‘ll l‘rsziuu u but you pranrh. 1' \mr India.
I,:echn..;rn Polihclnu. Nullurl‘olll cbluwaem.
A Luv. tin-t Jid not full. Six bnu. The cnrvnning «gum. Tm) m-lu Ind O.
l'wo wag. pf using thin-gt Two little glrll. fumslaa.
Don’t count your chicken: berm. “my nro Grub. Two malel.
hutchgd. Four Indian and I buy. A mum erl. Thu. fomnln and cm [nth
all infiur In love and vur. 31mm, 9 entlamnn. Emhm‘hd Iundline. Three Joungl
aw unelu _'.Jh got rid of tho lumy. wu union, How Jim Puhn 410d. Tm: Dilu-
whh away] knulfumntiom.

DIME DIALOGUEB No. 27.

{my O’and’l umpnign. For thra- mule: Th. umetxirl’n good and For two lulu. ll
Ind on. [ml-ml». hvo Hula girll.

flnxy inter-nu: In dwlyl jun. Numuoun "That ungrateful Hula nip-w." For hm In).
boy; I” had ‘hu mnnoy. PM .340 link [1111.

Flmnhuud Annie. In] lfrll. Appennncc- an imJ'XuL For nun)
dan-o Ivtvrina. Iour mg .91 an {om-lo. and one ununmb‘.

' Ln wu I" For 6v. Indian. Lovo‘l p‘ “n. "ov v'nvo P'Q. lirlu.

What will con them! For A lady nnrl ivo boy-I. An lulu! .. an". Fur unm.‘ chuck".

tndnpondum. For nnnerau- thnrlclerl. Thou whu prank And Kim J who yulonn. '-

lucn Mull": flu bent. For {our boyl. thru qulrn.

r'lv‘d and {mud w nth-L F-r Haven] mad“. A gum- «hquut. For ".3 you; '“1‘.

l boy's pk“ Fur unrnl dun-curt.

.' Th. ~n bun '- uld lay Now-dado) Ninth-n. a! will by an. post-pm. c-’
M n HAW x yrica w :anI “ch.

35‘ 04-3 A AD] ‘13} Fame". 3-3 Wlfiha It. I. ‘.~

 

I

 

 

DIME POCKET NOVEIJS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.

1 ilnwke e Harry.
2 Dead 8 not.
8 The Boy Miners.
4 Blue Dick.
5 Nat Woli’e.
6 The “'hite Tracker.
7 The (butlnw’s Wife.
8 The Tall Trapper.
9 Lightning Jo.
0 The Island Photo.
The Boy Ranger.
liens, the Trapper.
The French Spy.
Long Shot.
The Gunmaker.
lied Hand.
Hen, the Trapper.
Wild Raven.
The S eeter Chief.
The l ’nr-Klller.
Wild Nat.
Indian Jo.
0ld Kent. the Runner.
The One-E ed Trapper.
Godhold, t e Spy.
The Black Ship.
Single Eye.
Indian Jim.
9 The Scout.
Eagle Eye.
31 The Mystic Canoe.
82 The Golden Harpoon.
83 The Scalp King.
"Id Lute.
llalaholt, Ranger.
6 The lioy Pioneer.
Carr-an. the Guide.
The H l'

The Huge l
“'Illl Nat. the
l. 'nx-cnp.
T le \‘Vhlte Outlaw.
The Dog Trailer.
The Elk Kink.
Adrian, the Pilot.
The Han-hunter.
The Phantom Tracker-
Moovaulll “Ill.
Wolf Queen.
IlawL. raller.
Mad (lhici’.

. Black Wolf.
Arkansan Jack.
Blackbeard.

The River Rifles.
Hunter Ham.
)leudwood.
5 The Texas Hawks
60 Merciless Mat. '

18 1 Red Lightning.

nun—au—
zone»-

a
2’4

Inter.
Trapper.

190 Old Jupe. By Mrs. Orrin James.
191 The Prairie Rifles. By Henry

 

61 Mad Anthony’s Scouts

62 The Luckiess Trapper. ‘

68 The Florida Scout.
64 The Island Trapper.
85 WoifiCnp.

66 Battling Dick.

67 Shani-Lye.

88 Iran- [and

69 The Yellow Hunter.
70 The Phantom Rider.
71 Delaware Tom.

72 Silver Ride.

73 The Skeifiton Scout.

Witch.
76 Old R aii’, the Trnflfwr.
77 The Scarlet Shou era.
78 The Border Rifleman.
79 Outlaw Jack.
80 Tiger-Tail, Sunlnole.
81 Death-Denier.
82 Kenton, the Ranger.
83 m S ecter Horseman.
84 ree Trappers.
85 Knieolnh.
86 The Hunter Hercules.
{'17 Phil Hunter.
88 The Indian Scout.
89 The Girl Avenger.
. Red Hermite".
91 Star -Faoc, the Slayer.
92 Tile Antelope Boy.
93 The Phantom Hunter.
94 Tom i'intls, the Pilot.
95 The Red “ izord.
96 The Rival Trappers.
97 The Squaw Spy.
9R Dusky Dick.
99 Calm-cl Crockett.
0 0h! Iicar Paw.
Rcdiaw.
“’lld Rube.
The Indian Hunters.

The ludlnn

July llcnn.

The “'ood King.
The Hcalpcd Hunter.
Nix-l4. the Scout.
The Texan Tiger.
The Crossed Knives.
Tiger-Heart.

The Pearl Pirates.
Black Panther.
Ahdlel. the Avenger.
S Cato, the Cree er.
119 Two-Handed at.
120 Mm] Trail Hunter.

-n‘-|H-lp-l——l
«ans-ma:-

1
l
i
1
1
i
I
l

The M aukcd Avenger“

 

H


121 Black Nick. '

122 Kit Bird.

123 The S eeter Riders.

15% iii": A“
‘ c

126 '

127 vermur.
:33 wath
e .
Mink C Dy

nin .

185 Karaiho.

186 Scarlet Moccasin. .
187 Kid-In?» .

183 Mold :1 the Mountain. v :
189 The Scloto Se ‘
140 Border Rene de.
141 The lilth Chfef.
142 Boone, the Hunter.
148 Mountain Rate.
144 The Red Bcalper.
145 The Lone Chief.

.\

‘ 146 The Silver Bugle.

147 Chin a,the Cheyenne. 1 u
148 The angled Trull. 
149 The Unseen Hand.

150 The Lone Indian.

151 The Branded Brave.

i 152 Billy Bowie

gs.
158 The Valley cout.

155 The Jung
156 Cherokee Chief.
157 The Bandit Hermit.
151% The Patriot Scouts.
159 The “‘ood Rangers.
160 The Red Foe.
161 Beautiful Unknown.
162 Canehrakc Mole.
168 Hunk. the Guide.
164 The Border Scout.
165 “'lld Nat.
166 Maid of “'yoming.
167 The Three Captives.
168 The Lost Hunter.
169 Border Law.
170 The Lii'ictl Trail.
171 The Trader Spy.
72 The Forest 8 actor.
78 The Border ocn.
7 Border Vengeance.
7 Bordcr Resale.
7 The Sony- of Liberty.
7 The Loni. Bride. ‘ ‘
78 Keetnea.
179 The Tonkawn Spy.
180 The Prairie Scourge.

By W. J. Hamilton. Ready May 3ist.

182 Brave Heart. By James L. Bowen. Ready June 14th.

1 88 Night-Haurk Kit. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Ready June 28th.
184 Mustang Sam. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Ready J111Y 12th-

1 85 Hurricane Bill. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Ready July 26th.

186 The Bed Outlaw. By W. J. Hamilton. Ready August 9th.

187 The Swamp Scout. By W. J. Hamilton. Ready August 23d.

188 The Shu‘vne‘e’s Foe. By W. J. Hamilton. Ready September 6th.
189 Mohaka Nat. By W. J. Hamilton. Ready September 20th.

Ready October 4th.
J. Thomas.

Ready October 18th.

192 0111 Kyle, the Trailer. By Henry J. Thomas. Ready Nov. lst.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.