 

.‘ "_\ ‘ ‘x I‘.‘

j ‘ . THE SILENT "SLAYER"  "  

MONTREAL?"

BY “7. J. HAMILTON,
AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVELS:

13 THE FRENCH‘ SPY. \ . 176 THE SONS OF LIBERTY.
30 EAGLE-EYE. 180 THE PRAIRIE SCOUBGE.
102 WILD RUBE. 181 BED LIGHTNING.

110 NICK, THE SCOUT. 186 TIIE RED OUTLAW.

112 THE CROSSED KNIVES. 187 THE SWAMP SCOUT.

122 KIT BIRD. 188 THE SHAWNEES’ FOE.
1‘24 GIANT PETE. 185) MOHwa NAT.

1% MAID OF THE MOUNTAIN. 193 BIG FOOT, THE GUIDE.
144 HE RED SCALPER. 194 THE RED BROTHERHOOD.
165 VILD NAT. 202 THE INDIAN AVENGER.
174 BORDER VENGEANCE. 207 THE TWIN SCOUTS.

/

\

 I ' ‘ NEW” YORK: " 7.
‘ BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
' " - ‘ ~98 WILLIA‘M STREET. , . ~

 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1&8, :27
BEADLE , AND COMPANY,

In Re Clerk’s Oﬂice of the District Court of the United States for rk

Southern District of New York.

    
V“ \  careleg
“ oc

     
THE

SLAYER.

 
SILENT

     
CHAPTER I.
ran SILENT sum

  
“ Burt for your life i” were the words which rung like a

, trumpet through the depths of the forest. As the voice was

, heard, the bushes parted suddenly. and two white men dashed
into a little opening at full speed. Ali about them hung the - »
dense woods, with scarcely a glimpse of light through the
foliage. A deep shadow rested on every side. The two men
darted through the opening, and were gone like visions. So
sudden was their entrance and departure that the leaves had
not ceased to quiver on one side, before they were gone from '
sight on the other.

The cause of their hasty ﬂight soon became apparent. A
K series of hideous yells, baﬂiing description, burst from the
I  threats of a score of warriors. A moment after, dark. sav-l
‘ age forms crossed the open space, in close pursuit.

I

 Whiriing their glittering hatchets in the air, and pealing
-. out their terrible war-cry, they sprung on. The white men
" ' were running for life, and, close in their rear, they could hear
the footsteps of their foes. '

t The ﬁrst of the two was ,a young man in the green uniform

g of a provincial ensign. The other wore a nondescript dress,-
w \ half soldier, haif scout, and was, evidently a native of the
' - “ Gem of the Sea." Both were heavily armed, each carrying
the dreaded riﬂe, whose use was known to but few of the _.
Y English troops of that period. The young ensign also wore
,i' t ' pistols and a rapiér. Both were true fox-esters, the haughty
’ courageof the younger serving admirably as a foil for the
 careless bravery of the Irishman._ ’ , / ,
' ; a " Och, thin, the divil ﬂy away wid vou snalpgens," pried

/

 
10 ' mun SILENT ‘smrm
, .

the latter, panting. “Let’s turn on thim, Masther Wilton.
Sure; an’ it’s betther to die wid a bit av breath in the body,
than to rin yerself out av wind, an' thin turn about an’ tnke'
“ half a. dozen balls in yer carcass. Bad cess til thim."/ ,

“We will turn when forced to do so," replied the other.
“Let us save ourselves if we can.‘ The dispatches I have
are of the utmost importance to the king’s cause. The FrenCh
are ready to break the truce. Run on."

“ Run, is it? The divil carry ye, and phat d’ye call this? \

Ain’t this running? I sh’u’d think so, bad scrau til it, an‘ the
’likes av it.”

“ Don’t waste words. 011, for your life, and mine."

.The Irishman was silent now. Throwing out his chest
and inﬂating his lungs, he kept on by the side of his com-
panion. But, close upon their track, like wolves upon the
trail of the wounded hull‘alo, Came the trend of the Indians.

Silent, tireless, relentless as death, they realized their power -

and prowess well. Many of them could have run from memo
lng until night, allowing but slight signs of fatigue. They
knew the ‘eonntry well. On nearly every mile of ground
they had fought the white man, the deer, and the panther.
No man understood their relentless natures better than Wilton
Mowbray, the young. ensign, He had suﬂ‘ered at their hands
before now. , He knew that their stern creed spared none
who fell into their. power, and he determined to (lie bravely,
if it must be, but never to submit to become their prisoner.

“ We must turn upon them," he cried. “ This is a' good
place. Is your riﬂe ready ‘1" .

. The Irishman nodded ; his face was ﬂushed, but he showed ‘

no signs of ﬂinching. The spot where they halted was in a.

narrow pass hetween 'two rocky bluffs, commanding a View '
of the open space which they had just crossed, through 'which

their enemies must come in order to reach their prey.

“Cheerily, Mick,” said the young menu “ T,hey can’t be
' very many. Wholmows but we may outwit them yet? At
any rate, if they take us it. must be by ﬁghting, and nothing
less. I Will see to that." . . *

“ I‘ll stand by 'ye, me lad,” said Mick, stoutiy. “ It shall
niver be said. that Mick O‘Toole forsook‘his onld masther In?
,t’ri’nd in the hour av trial. There's wan av thin."

 
. tracks.

' , groan.

Tm: muonnons use. it »

/

The young ensign raised his riﬂe to his shoulder. just as a
savage Warrior bounded from cover. Crack! The indian
threw up his arms, uttered a wild yell, and fell dead in his

time to receive the contents of O’Toole‘s riﬂe. Though not
quite killed, he was disabled from any further Service for
years to come. The sudden check took the pursuers by sur-
prise, and they recoiled from the dangerous pass. Bur, as
they did so, a deep, stern voice ordered an advance. ‘ As the
order came, a dozen savages rushed from the thicket, and
hurried toward the pass. Before they reached it, those fear-

ful riﬂes had again cracked, and with each shot, human souls ‘

had gone to judgment. ,

The Indians were now too near to permit the whites to
use their riﬂes again. Throwing these weapons hehind them,
the defenders of the pass drew their knives, while Wilton
took along-harmed pistol in his right hand. The/ foremost
savage had arrived within twenty feet of the pass, when the
pistol exploded. The warrior was in the act oi taking a.
forward step, when the ball. struck him on the crown of the

_ head, cutting off a portion of his head-dress and telling him

to the ground‘as’ quickly as if he had been struck down by
a. bludgeon. Wilton snatched the other pistol from his belt,
and aimed at the next warrior. Trained from boyhood to
shoot with the pistol and riﬂe, he was sure of his aim at that
distance, and sought to disable rather than kill \the Indian,
\even though the savage sought his life. The ball broke the
leg just above the ankle, and the Indian fell with a hollow
Six warriors now opposed them, armed with knife
and hatchet. But, Indians are rarely determined ﬁghters,
hand to hand, and they hesitated.

' In the place where the two men stood, their ﬂanks were
guarded by the heavy hluﬂ‘s, and the attack must. come from
the front. Wilton took advantage of this hesitation to ,load
his pistols. - ~‘ ’ ‘ ‘

“ Let the red warriors listen," he said, addressing them in
French, 'which he knew ’many of “the Canadian Indians
could speak. ‘6 Can any of you understand what I am
saying 1’"

One of the warriors answered: ‘

As he did so, another darted from the woods, in '

 
THE SILENT SLAYER.

“ I am Rolling Thunder, a- warrior of the St. Regis. What
will the white chief say ‘1’” I 1

“Why do my red brothers seek my life? Are they not
friends to their French father at Montreal ‘2” »

“ My brother is right : we are, indeed friends to our father
at Montreal. That is the reason we seek the Yengee."

“ What have I done i?”

.' “My brother is a snake inthe grass; he has gone among

the French at Montreal and in Quebec, and he has learned
many things which it is not just that he should know. Roll-
ing Thunder is a great chief; he will take you, liar of the
Yengees, and burn you with ﬁre.” I

“ The warrior speaks with a: long tongue, and it is easy to
see that his arms are short. Does the Indian know my name?
If he does not, I will speak it. I an) the Silent Slayer l”

A hush fell upon the Indians at the name; then they were
heard to mutter among themselves. They knew the name
well. For two years it had been a living terror to them.

‘They knew him, though young, to be a during scout, a man

of the utmost bravery, a trusty guide, and an ofﬁcer in whom,
the men had conﬁdence. He scouted for pleasure, not for
gain. Enrly lett to himself, he had no other object in life.

~His parents had died in an Indian massacre, and he alone had

been left. He could truly say, “ There runs not a drop of my
blood in the Veins of any living creature." Yet, his great
loss had not made him vindictive; He did net confound the
innocent with the guilty; but when he fought the Indians,
he never struck without thinking of his slain friends.

'He had taken to the woods. In time he learned to love
them. In their deep recesses, in times of peace, with his
faithful servant end friend, Mick O’Toole, he had passed meat
of his time hunting, ﬁshing, and boating. But, whenever the ‘
trumpet of war' sounded, he was the first to spring to arms.
The Government knew his value, and he was the man to send
in advance to the enemy’s country, when on the verge of

breaking a truce, to stu/dy out their probable plans: Through ‘ -

his exploits and adventures, he become well known to the
Indians, who had not been aware of whom they had been'in
these until' this moment. - _ 7

“Silent Slayer,” said Rolling Thunder, again stepping h'

/

’Wﬁ—M'm A .

."geds

HI

w“

rrwwr

t6

. his hand.

READY TO our. .' , ‘18

the front. “ the hearts of the warriors are very glad. It is
always pleasant to a St. Regis to see the face of a brave man. >
My brother is very brave ; but hemust give himself up):

“ Are the EngliSh at war with the French 1’" demanded
Wilton.

“ My brother must not ask questions; he has done enough.
Two of Our warriors are dead; two more will never trend 1
the war-path. The St. Regis have reason enough to destroy

‘ the Silent Slayer."

“ The tongue of Rolling Thunder is getting very long,”
said Wilton, in a taunting tone. “If he means to take the
Silent Slayer, why does he not come? The Silent Slayer is
here.” . ‘-

As he said this, the Indians started back in fear. He lifted
As he did so, all» ﬂed but Rolling Thunder, leav-
ing him standing alone, immediately in front of the narrow
pass.

“ Rolling Thunder,” said the young man, in a solemn tone,
f‘ you should not have told me your name. I You are one of
the men I have sought for two years. It was you, and no
other, who killed my father. I knew your name; you must
die.” . n '

While speaking, he had moved out of‘ the pass and stood '
by the side of the Indian, who neither moved nor spoke,
though evidently in deadly fear.

“ You must remember that twu years ago you came with \
a French party upon a settlement on the Mohawk. You led
the Indians. AFrenchman, whose name I could never learn
led the French. Tell me his name.” *

‘ The Indian shook his head. I

“Tell me his name; you have but a moment to live—a
single moment. ‘ Do a good deed before you' die.”

“ I will not,” said Rolling Thunder. “ Let the white may
do his worst."

“ My father and mother were killed that day. I am sworn
to spend my life in looking for the men who killed them.

\ You are one of these. Who is the other? I ask it lie/fore

you die." . - .
"‘ Rolling Thunder can hear the voice of the Manitoulcall.
He is ready to die Let the white man raise his hand end

 
' M

‘ grounds of his fathers.

.and looked him in the face with a calm smile.

I

THE SILENT SLAYER. ' ‘

mike the blow. The warrior will go to the happy hunting:
He will be content.”

Wilton lifted his hand; Rolling-Thunder folded his arms
Villain though
he was. Wilton could not but admire his noble bearing. and
his manner of meeting death.

“ Why does the Silent Slayer stay his hand ?” asked the
chief. “ Let him strike.”

“ Tell me the name of the Frenchman, and you shall go
free." '

“ I am not a. dog; I will not tell his name.
it, it would make you tremble." '

“ You refuse, then ?” ‘

“Yes.” ’ .

Again Wilton raised his weapon. As he did so, some one
in the bushes ﬁred at him with an unsteady aim. The ball
ﬂew wide of its mark, and buried, itself between the shoul-
ders of the Indian. He looked ﬁxedly for a moment in ..the
face of Wilton, and then, with a smile of derision frozen on
his set lip, he sunk dead at his feet; the hand of his own
friend had slain him. Wilton, much as he had longed to
meet this man, was thankful that his had not been the hand
to lay him low. ,1

“ Be oﬂ now i" shouted Mick. “I’ve got me second wind.”

They dashed away again,'and for nearly a mile ran in si
fence, While, on every hand, the woods resounded with crieo
of disappointed vengeance, ’These cries were soon changed,
as a fresh body of the savages reached thespot where lay the
corpse of Rolling Thunder. '

“ Hark l" said Wilton, pausing in his onward course. ' “ Do
you hear that? A pleasant sound, is it not? That is the
death-yell over the body of the chief. Woe to us now if we
fall alive into their hands.” 

“ Af I have a word to say on the subject," said Mick, “ I ’i
Sure, We‘ve med

won’t l’ave them catch me, at all, at all.
the thaves sick, so fur."

"‘ We have indeed done Well. A short time since, our
lives would not have been worth a moment’s purchase. Now.
we are comparatively safe. .I ﬂatter myself that my name
will make them a little cautious." . v \

’ >
\“ r
.

If you knew .

1

A «-v-—p__‘f_ 1.4

\
/

run: LURKING-PLACE. _ ~15
, \

" Theytear ye like the'divil, Masther Wilton; Ah, the‘blt"
guardsl hark til them now I - How‘I w’u'd‘ like to cram the
whole length of me rnmrod down the dirthy throat av the'
black buste yellin"now." - . ‘ .

“ Come on," said Wilton, brieﬂy; “ we are not yet safe.”

Their course now lay through a country broken into
ridges, covered by low growths of pine end spruce, in clumps, _
with here 'and there a large opening. ‘ As they came on, they
caught the glimmer of water through the dense foliage. 

“ The lake i” cried Wilton. “ Now, in five minutes more,
I can say that we are secure, if we can ﬁnd the canoe. Oh,
I hope it is safe. JukeDowdle told me where he hid it, and
he is never a man to do things by halves. W hateVer he does
is well done. Ah-hsl there is Champlain in full view.” \

As he spoke, they pushed aside the thick branches, and L
came upon the shore of the lake, which shone before them

‘ like a burnished shield. Not a breath stirred the placid sur-

face. There it lay, a perfect picture of nature’s handiwork,

faultless as only the work of God can be. The great trees
on the bunk cast long, dark shadows on the limpid surface.
For down in those translucent depths, where the pickerel and
bass lurked, they could see the/white stones gleaming. N u-
merous' islands gemmed the surface, crowned by,verdant

groves of stately trees. Flocks of aquatic birds rose at their
- approach, and sailed away through the pleasant air. But,

though lovers of nature in her various forms, the men had no
time to gaze on its beauties now. | , ‘

“ Step into ‘the water," said Wilton. “ We can break the
truilr I defy them to ﬁnd out whether we go up or down.
Step on the stones." / f ’

I
They hurried up the lake, sometimes under the overhung-

.ing\ banks, sometimes close to the gmvelly shore, for about
half a mile. I The clamor behind them had begun to spreaid,

as if the pursuers had become confused and had scattered in
search. of the trails Wilton now stepped out of the water.
and carefully lifting a mass of hangingvjnes which drooped
over the face of the hluﬁ‘,‘he disclosed a small opening into
which he signaled his companion to enter.‘ The Irishman
obeyed withoht'n. word,nnd Wilton followed; Their lurkifgr ‘

place-was merely-a small cavity-in the face of the rock, deep ‘

 
/

16 v'mx 9mm sum

enough to hold them readily, but not rising to the dimensions
of a cave. By making a small opening in the .leaves, they
could see up or clown the lake. Lying prostrate on \the rock,
Wilton parted the leaves and looked out. Two savages had
\ come round a point about two hundred yards away, and were
Looking in their direction, not as if seeing anything of them,
but merely in the hope that they might be in sight. The two
hiddenmen were silent as death. -

The Indianscame on, stopping now and then to listen.
They were young warriors, and anxious for distinction. If
they could be the means of the capture of the Silent Slayer,
they Would he contented with the glory. Still, though valor-
ousrthey also were prudent youth, and knew that, in a. per-
sonal conﬂict, they would fare badly in the hands of two such
noted men as the Silent Slayer and the Redhead, by which
name the honest Irishman was known. For, if the truth
must he told, the hair of Mick O’Toole was of a sanguine
hue, like unto blood. I I .

’I‘hetwo warriors halted about twenty feet from the place

where the men lay, and began a conversation which we trans- '

late into English : . _

“ Sleep—by-Day,” said one, addressing his friend, ‘_‘ did you
look upon the face of the Silent Slayer, who is like unto the
death which walks in the dark?" ' _ '

“Bend-the-Bow says well," said the other. “I looked
upon the face of the Silent Slayer, and it was like unto the
cloud which matters in the sky. A warrior is but dust be-
fore him. His ways are terrible. If we take him, we shall
be chief’s among the Regis.” 7

“But,” said the other, promptly, “ if the Silent Slayer
should kill ushwhat then ?"

“ We be dead 1” replied Sleep~by-Day, coolly.

“‘ I am going to astonish those fellow/s,” whispered Wilton.‘
“Wait a moment. Let them talk on.” '

«“ How will he kill us ?” asked Send-the-Bow.

“Got a. gun so long,” said Sleep-byNﬂay, extending‘hts
arms. “ Very long gun. No powder in him, no wad; no-
thing but ball. Hold it out; no noise; you dead.” t

“We go back «may said Bend-the-Bow. “No good to
stay here. Git killed it we do. No stay." ‘

 
i
v
i
r

\

 
lover the pursuit,‘and ,went back to bury their dead.-

 
THB MYSTERIOUB GUN.

“ Must go on," said the other, “ else warriors laugh. \Bad
to have warriors laugh at us.”

Wilton had taken something out of a long pocket in his I
hunting-coat, worked at. it a moment, and then pointed it out
through the leaves. Immediately Bend-the-Bow dropped on
one knee, wounded, and Sleep-by-Day clapped his hand to
his own shoulder, as if in sudden pain. The Irishman looked‘
on with a smile. He had long ago ceased to wonder at any
thing his_master might do, but he had hard work to refrain

‘ from a loud laugh at the expressions of pain and disgust upon

the faces of the two Indians.

“ Told you so i" cried Bend-the-Bow‘.
now ?”

“ Something shoot. What?”

“ Silent Slayer! You take me on your back. Broke my
leg. all for you. Fool. you would stay here. S'pose you get
kill,.all good." ,

“ Hurt bad,” said Sleep-by-Day. “ Can’t carry you. Try."

Putting his arm about the waist of his unfortunate com-
panion, he partly dragged and partly carried him‘around the
point' of land. and out of sight'of the spot from which the —

“ What matter

~- mysterious bullet had come. There had been no report. By

what unseen agency the bullets had been sent, they could not
tell.

The moment they were out of sight of the dreaded spot,
their yells rcsounded through the woods. The enemy came
at their call. But, when they reached the shore of the lake,
they only found new food for anger. There, gasping 'on the
beach, lay two of their best warriors ; and tout upon the sur-
(ace of‘ the lake. nearly half a mile from land, lay a small
canoe, containing two persons. They saw at a glance that
all their efforts had been in vain, and that their enemies, safe
from pursuit, were laughing at them. Even if they had a
canoe, it was by no means certain that. they could.overtake
the practiced woodmen before night came on {so they gave‘

 
/

“ dupe say. Ould ireland forever. Arrah musha, but whin will

CHAPTER II.
“ BE JABERS m I no!"

‘Tlm two adventurers had found their canoe safe, endem-
barked in time to escape the infuriated savages, who were, of
course, raving at the toss they had sustained, without being
able to inﬂict any in return. They bent to their paddles, after
taking an observation of the shore, shaping their course for
an island far out in the lake. , As they worked at their pad-
”dles, we have time to look at the Silent Slayer, and see what
manner of man he is. Ayoung man about twenty-ﬁve—
very young to have established such a reputation among
bordermen as that he possessed. His frame, though below
the middle size, was sinewy, and he was straight as an arrow,
with a pair of square shoulders and powerful arms; his face
was without a beard, smooth as that of a woman, with dark
eyes and long brown hair. He was a little inclined to be par-
ticular about dress, as most army ofﬁcers were in his day; his
neat green uniform set off his.triin ﬁgure and .handsome face
to good advantage. ,

Mick O’Toole, his companion and servlng man, was a stout,

thick-set individual, with ﬂaming red hair, and a face whose
unapproachable homeliness was only redeemed by the good-
natured grin which rarely left it. t

“ Sure, Masther Wilton,” he said, “ we got out av that scrape
mighty nate. ' Phat d’ye think ?”

" I think as you do. ’We are lucky fellows that our bones do
notlie on yonder shore. Never mind. It is the lot of those
who live our dangerous life. I think the danger amply
stoned for by‘t'he pleasure of doing service for the country."'

“ Och, the divil take the connthry, aﬂ‘ it comes til that,” said
Mick. “Fur me own silt, I’d never stir it fut to‘ help the
counthry, aﬂ‘ it wasn't fur yer own swatc silf. Phat do I
careet‘ur ould Ingland?. Phat have she iver done fur me?
Och, mony an’ mony’s the time I’ve Wished her sunk in the

 
l

1'; ' "5“ *z9‘ro~

us have times like these.

I ‘ e
\ " -’ “ mrmn. I . .19,
the day come when Irishmen Can see the maid green ﬂag ﬁyin‘
above the rid l" a

“ You Irishmen don’t forget, although you have been kept
under so long,” said Wilton. , ,

“ Forgit, is it? Whin Mick O’Toole forgits the o’uld green
sod, an’ the woes av her childer, it will be whin they’ve spread
a grass quilt over the head av inc, sure. Sure it’s mesilf that
knows the O’Tooles were the kings in Ireland, before an
Inglishman put a. fat on it, had scran to thim an’ the likes av
thim.” A x /

“ You feel strongly.”

“The Irishman looks back toward the ould sod always.
No matther where he makes his home, the eyes av him are
always turning back to the home he hopes fur. He.looks to
see the ould green ﬂag wave ag’in from north to- south and
aist an’ wist, in the green isle; Masha, musha, the sights I
have seen in Ireland. Don‘twonder I don’t care much fur
Inglnnd. But, for that, I don’t like Freuohmin nigh so well
as they, because you like the Inglish."

They were now nearing the island. There was no sound
a on its silent breast. Hardly a bird was to be seen. An op~
pressive and strange silence fell on all around. ' Wilton felt a
sort of vague uneasiness creep into his frame, such as'men feel
at times when they pass through a churchyard, or touch the
face of a corpse. Mick looked uneasily about him, and
laughed nervously. Wilton\stopped paddling, and rested on

/ his oar.

“ I am ashamed to say that for the ﬁrst time to-day, I feel
nervous,” he said. “ It is a strange sensation, at the moment
of safety. I am far from understanding it." ‘ '

“ It’s me that feels as you do, honey,” said Mick, passing
his hand across his brow. “ Niver mind, alanah; the bist av
It‘ll pass away soon.” /

The prow of the canoe grated on the strand, and shaking‘
03' his fears by an effort, Wilton sprung to the shore, and held
the bow for his companion to step out Mick‘did so, and they
dragged the canoe high up ’on the beach, where 'the water
could not move it, and advanced toward the center of the is-

» had. It was not more than three acres in extent, and was “
‘ unrated for the most part by a~thlck growth of underlain];

‘ \

 
so ' . - rusmnn'rmm

beneath‘tsll trees. Near the center grew 3 single oak, which,
by process of age, had become decayed to a great extent,
leaving a cavity within the trunk which was large enough to
hide the body of a man. v
“,Here is the place where Major Forsythe promised to leave
our orders,” said Wilton, plunging his hand into the hollow
trunk. He removed it immediately with a look of absolute
fear upon his face. \ / ‘ '
“ There is something there,” he whispered. “ Curse thisplace ;
it is taking all the manhood from me. I am a. fool. I must
ﬁnd out who is here.”
He,thrust his hand again into the cavity and seized the nb- ~
ject which had alarmed him. Ashe drew it forth to the light,
a low (‘ry of horror broke from him and Mick. It was the
dead body ‘of a young man, in the uniform of an oﬂicer in
the French artillery. Some ‘sharp weapon had pierced his
» heart. Little blood had ﬂowed, and he had apparently died
without a struggle. He looked noble in death, for his was one
of those clear-cut, handsome faces which bespeak nobility of
,nature. His lips were red and full, like a woman’s. A dark

\ mustache was just beginning to show itself, and as he lay there
in death, with lips just parted, as if asleep, his r teeth showed
white and even as pearls. A ring, which sparkled upon one
of the ﬁngers of his right hand, proved that he had not been
'killed‘ for gain. Wilton searched his pockets, and found in
them a purse, containing forty Louis, 8. pair of handsome pis-
tols and a stiletto. In the breast-pocket of his coat they
found a memorandum-book. Upon the ﬂy-lenf was this in-
scription :

 
VAUDmun D’AnroNY,

2 d Calais,
Capitaine.

) There were many entries in the buok, over which the young
man hastily cast. his eye. Notes of beautiful women the
young man had seen,-of wine-parties, of conquests, and the ,
thousand and one things which are done by idle young men of’ t
fortune. He turned to the last pages. We have said Wilton
was a good, French scholar; he read it easily. ‘

“ 17th. The colonel has asked Mariot and myseli' to go out on
the trail and see it' the enemy are making any demonstrations

 
rim nonhuman room. ‘11

r

for ﬁver. If they are, we must forestall them. We have never
been behindhand yet, and it would not do to begin now, it
seems to me." .

“ 18th. We go today. Mariot has been with me making pre- .
parations. I_am sorry thatI can not like him better, fOr we are
of the some blood, though far away. There is something in
his face which I can not like, thou h he is always kind to me.
Perhaps it is on Marie's account. % Can, think of nothing else.
I think he loves her. But he shall never marry her. Mv dear
1sister must be the wife of a good man. No other will do for

er.

“ 19th. Off on the trail. An Indian is to take us to the head of
the lake in acanoe. From that we must shitt for ourselves.
Mariot is gloomy. He has spoken to Marie and she has re-
ﬁlsed him. It is like In sister. No, Mariot Dujardin, seek
some other bride. Marie lg’Arig-ny can never be yours.”

Here the journal abruptly ceased. There was a chain about
the neck of the unfortunate young man. Wilton raised it.
and saw that it had a small golden locket attached to it. ,He '
. touched the spring and it opened, showing the face of a fair

young French girl, whom no one could mistake for any thing

but the sister of that dead man. It was the same face, ex-
cept with feminine traits. How long Wilton kneelcd with

that picturein his hand he could not have said. It‘ was a

long time, and when he rose he took the chain from the neck

of the young man and passed it over his own. He also took

the ring and pistols. I I

“ These must go to his sister," he said. I “ Now, Mick, let
us make a grave for this poor boy. 1 much fear he was slain
by treachery.” ‘

The soil was soft and easily worked.
and tin c/ups they scooped out a hollow in the earth, not very

. deep, to be sure, and there they laid the body of the murdered
man to rest, with his cloak wrapped about him, and hirsword
by his side. ‘

“ Rest well, my brave boy," said Wilton. “if I ever meet
and know yourmnrderer, God pity him i” '

When the last service they could do‘ him was performed.
they Went back to the tree and searched for dispatches. They,
found them, at last, thrust into a little .crevice in the wood.

Their orders were general. To scour the woods in every 5

‘ \

r

/

‘Wioi their knives '

 
38 mm swam mm

direction and ﬁnd out, if possible, more oil the designs of the
enemy, unless they had already obtained very important in-
formation. In that case, it must be sent to head-quarters.

“ Mick,” said Wilton, “ that shall be you duty. Yen must
go to Schenectady alone.” -

“ And phat will ye do, alanah ‘2”

“ I am going to Montreal,” said Wilton.
until I have given this poor‘girl information of the death of
her brother, and what better place can I go to than to Mon-
“ ‘ treal ?”

“ The cats take me if I go a fut,” said Mick, angrily. “ Phat ,

d’ye tak’ me fur, at all? W’u’d I l’ave ye to go up into the
Frenchers’ town, all forby yersill‘, an’ me safe in the Mohawk
connthry ? The divil a bit w’u’d I!”
“ But, Mick, you don’t understand." .

~ ‘“ Who w’u'd understlmndtthin? Now look ye here to me.
Tm a peonbaste av a b’y, I know; but the divil a time w’u’d
I do the like av that. ‘ I’ve been with ye niony a‘year, in
good times on’ bad times, by lake an’ river, by ﬂood an’ ﬁeld,
an’ whinI l’ave ye to go all the dangerous way til MontrealI
all by yersilf, may the cats get me. an’ they will.”

“ But, if I order you to do it, Mick,” said the pthcr, sternly.

“Thin I'll do phat I haven’t done this mony a long year:
I’ll disobey yer orders. That’s swore to.” , '

' ' Mick was wagging his obstinate head to and lie in an an-
‘gry manner, muttering to himself as he did so.

“ You' see the orders," expostulated the young man. " One
of us must go: you can see that plainly. Then please tell
me what we can do unless you go? The interests of the
country must not be neglectet ." ‘ ‘

‘,‘ That for the intherests av the counthry," replied Mick.
snapping his ﬁngers. “I tould ye before I didn’t care fur it.
Niverltill me! It's you I care fur, not fur the countht‘y.”

“ Have you no patri‘otipa ‘3" .

“ The divil a bit," re‘plied Mick, in a tone ofsturdy inde- \

pendence. ,“ I’ll stand by you,/iVery time." .

“ My faithful fellow,” said Wilton, suddenly changing his
tone, “ your kindness touches me more deeply than I can tell
you. I feel it in my heart to thank you, but can hardly tell
how to begin. You have‘ followed me with unvarying

i .

“I can not rent t

 
u—_.-

. ‘ . V
600mm. . 93

faith, through all the shifting scenes of the last two years. I‘
will not‘ask you again to part from me, even for a season,
though it would have been for the best.” .
" “ Give me thim bloody dispatches,” roared Mick. “ Arrah,

it’s mortal bad I feel all the time, but duty must be done.
Only mind this: how long will ye be gone i”

x “ I. can not tell.” \

' “ Which way w’n’d ye comeback?”

Wilton mapped out a plan, of his line of march on a leaf
from his note-hook and gave it to him.

“All right; I’ll go to Schenectady,” he‘ said. " But the
minnit yon otlicers git the dispatches, I folly ye's. D’ye mind
that now.” A V ‘

f‘ You know the rapids in the St. Lawrence near Montreal?”
said Wilton. ' ‘

“ Yis."

“ And the hole in the rock on the south bank of the '

river ?”

“ Av course.” . / l

“ Come to that place and wait three days. If I do not ap-
pear, theu'you must come to Montreal. You know where to
ﬁnd Despard, our spy. He will direct you where to ﬁnd me.
Now let us get some rest."

They laid down side by side upon the greensward. Their
fears had passed away, and they understood that it was' the
mysterious inﬂuence which prompts a man to speak in sub-
dued tones while in the presence of death. which had acted
Upon them in landing. Long before the morning they were
on their feet, and pushed the canoe from the shore, heading it.
for the western bank. Here Mick landed, and with many
farewells to his beloved leader and friend. he went his way,
auiﬂiing audiny and enrsing‘ the “ counthry."
though reugh and uncouth, loved his master well.
gers they had shared together had knit their hearts by a closer
tie than master and servant ever can know. As long as Wilg
ton‘ apposed him, Mick would' have sulfered untold torments
rather than go to\ Schenectady. But, when he no longer opt

posed him, Mick gave wayI though full of wrath at the count;

v of their separation. , .
“ Ye'll be takin' the canoe up the’lake P” said he.’

‘ l

v

This man, A
The dan- '

 
' and set to work.

not: was passing close at hand.

/ _

t in his course, he pushed his canoe behind it. and waited to

34 I ran sthn'r am um.

\“Of course," replied Wilton.
walking all the way to the French head-quarters, when I can
take the river. Once in Canada, I' defy "any one to say I out
not a Frenchman.”

“Have ye got the clothes ?" , , .

“ Yes; they are hidden at the outlet. Never fear for me;
I will make as good a voyageur as you ever saw. Once more,
good-b'y, old boy. Take care of yourself.”

“ I’ll do that,alannh l" replied Mick. “ I'm the b'y to take
care av me own scalp, sure. It’s you to rin intil danger whin
there’s. not a shoddy av use. Don’t I know ye, bad ’cess til
ye? Aeh, mony7s the time I’ve known ye to do it. But,
gud-hy til ye. God save ye from harum, nn' don’t forgit Mick
O’Toole.” ' ‘

CHAPTER III.
THE RED HERCULES. ‘

Tm: young man turned the hand of the canoe tip-stream
It was not yet daylight, but he knew the
bearings of the land so well that he was not likely'to make
a mistake. An hour passed, and the darkness became more
intense, as it often is just before the daylight appears. He
rested a moment and waited for the light. As he lay there,
idly rocking upon the water, he became conscious thnt a ca-

There was no time to get
out of the way. The only thing to do was to lie quietly and

ullow the other to pass. [As it did so, he could make out'
that it was propelled by a single paddle, by the regularity. of

the stroke. ‘
dark outline of a long canoe, and of a tall, dark ﬁgure kneel-
ing in the center. Once he lifted his riﬂe, hut‘Wilton took
no pleasure in slaying men except when forced to do it in

' order 'to save life, and he laid the riﬂe down ngnin?

I As the other. cnnoe neared the shore, daylight began to tip-
pear, nnd'Wilton took up his puddle. A small island lying

“I have no intention ot .

So close'did‘it pass, that he could distinguish the \

n'nu

25.3.:

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o;-

n.
1 pi
i th
i be

 
."7

'FVIaW

' A also: anion. ', so
see who had just passed him. ’As the morning came more
brightly, he saw the object of his search. The scanoe had
been drawn high up on the beach, and its fermer occupant

/ was standing on a headland looking across the lake. It was
an Indian, of gigantic stature, in the war-dress of a chief.

/ That noble and imposing ﬁgure Wilton had once seen, and,
once seen, he Could never forget it. He remembered, upon
one occasion, being in Montreal, of seeing a number of: In-
‘dlans pass through the street, together with some French of-
ﬁcers. Among them was this man; and Despard; the spy
of the English in Montreal, had told him that this was We-
nona, the “ Giant Chiet‘ of St. Regis,” as he was called.

The men about the camp-ﬁres at night had many stories
i to tell of this wonderful man, who was, in his way, another

Tecumseh. No man knew better how to foster the interests

of the Indians—none were braver in battle. Possessing, as
i he did, a kingly presence, the St. Regis were not slow to ac-
, knowledge his power. ‘

“I hope I won’t have to meet that fellow," thought the
young man, glancing uneasily toward the shore. “ He has
the cunning of a fox, and would tell an Englishman almost

' l by the scent. I must get out of this."

He had drawn his canoe well up on the bank, as he thought.
‘Turning toward it, to his horror he saw it a hundred feet
' from the shore, ﬂoating down with the current. To cast his
riﬂe on the sod and plunge into the water, was his ﬁrst

, thought. To keep below the surface was another. Calcu-

- lating his distance well, he rose in such a way as to leave the ‘

come between himself and the shore. A small piece of the

I rope by which he anchored it was hangin'g over the how. He

pulled it -further down and beganvto swim, not directly toward

i the island, but in a sort of ellipse, in the course which would

be taken by an eddy. The chief upon the shore was looking

carefully at the canoe, which, at that distance, might have
been a log as well. He evidently was in doubt. Once he
stooped and took up the paddle of his own canoe, but laid it'
down again, as if thinking that he must be deceived. The
ﬂoating canoe ere‘long disappeared behind the little island,
7‘ sad, the young man breatheda sigh of intense relief. ~
Luckily, the trees upon the shore were very high, and

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. i .,
screened‘him from observation. Pushing out his canoe cur.
tiously, and taking care to keep the island between himself ‘
and toe headland upbn which, the chief stood,after ﬁrst push-
,ing 9. log about the size of the canoe into the water, he pad-
. (lled carefully to another island, directly in a line with the-one
‘where he had lately stood. ,As he reached it, he lifted the
.canoe from the water, carried it across, and launched .it: on
the other side. This done, he came back to take an observa-
tion. . / '

He had not been a moment too soon. .The head of a
canoe'was just coming in sight round the point of the other
island It was the Giant Chief, who could not make himself ‘
believe that it was not a canoe he had seen upon the water. :
‘When he saw the log ﬂoating away he appeared satisﬁed, and
turning his canoe, disappeared from view.

I

CHAPTER IV. . .
amuse HANDS ON THAT!

A minnows way lay before the young and adventurous ,’
man—'8. way over which bloody feet had trod. on their re.
turn from some dreadful massacre to the almost hopeless cap. ,.
tivity of the Canaries. Wilton knew his danger well. , The. 3
St. Regis and the Huron were in the path, struggling, bands
from both tribes always were on the trail, ready to strike at

the heart of any man who -did not bear Frenchman ‘in his ~ »

face.

The marvelous address of the young provincial thus far
had kept him almost unknown personally to the Frenéli au/d
Indians‘. While the former regarded him as a dreaded spy
the Indians looked upon him with a sort of holy horror, as]
the possessor of miraculous power: They had seen men dropl
suddenly when he was near, and no one could tell by what
agency he slew his foes. Taught to take their lessons from
nature, any thing out of the ordinary courseot' things was be-
yond [their mmprehenaion. The trees ' had a language; the

’ \

 
‘

l
 I, _‘ wnomvou't ,-\ ‘ ‘2?

ﬂowers spoke to them; but, such acts as those of,Wilton,
the Silent Slayer, were prodig‘ies which only supernatural
7 agencies could achieve." ‘ ‘

Hence they feared Wilton, and, strove by‘ every means in
their power to rid ’the earth of him. Knowing their hatred
for him, the man accepted the danger for the end he could at-
tain.

'As the light craft sped on, the voyager thought of his "ab-
sent friend, who had been willing to join him in this perilous

/ enterprise. His hosom warmed toward thewfaithful man, who
_ had been so ready’ to work in his service. Lost in a' reverie,
, he was not conscious of his danger until he heard the. dip of
' ' ,a paddle near at hand. His ﬁrst movement was to grasp his
.1 \ riﬂe, and point. it at the head ,of the new-comer. \

“ Your pardon, monsieur,” said a voice, speaking English
with a French accent. “ Do me the favor to point your wea-
pon another way.” .

Wilton looked at the speaker. He sat alone in a bark
canoe. It. was a man in the uniform of a captain in the
French service, a fatigue dress. He showed no arms except
the sword at his thigh and pistols in his ”belt. His face was
dark and forbidding, and he had the haughty air of one no-
customed to command. .

D?'“Hw

‘3 “ Who are you ‘2" cried Wilton. " Pass on.” _
’9‘ . “ No haste, my young friend. ' You have asked my name.
Pi  You shall have it. I am Captt‘tiu Merlot Duj‘ardin, of the
he ’ French service. May I ask your name?”

(‘9 “Certainly,” said Wilton, looking at the dark face of the.
at other more curiously, for in him he recognized the companion
“i9 ' ‘of the young Frenchman they had found dead upon the isle.
“I am called Egbert Corneille, and my masquerading cos.
m" ~tnme is assumed in order to move at liberty in the English
'“ld ‘villages. When are we to look for the torrent? \Ve have
DY already'seen the clouds." ‘

as “ Soon enough. It is not‘ the French ‘ way to wait on ac-
”?! count of difﬁculties. Pardieu,I am out on the same service
[‘3' as yourself. Always during a truce such men as you and I
0‘“ ‘nnd-their work to do. That: is the way we draw ﬁrst blood.
bO‘ And, by the way, I- lost acomrade the other day on an island "
ﬂ" ' in the lake.” . ‘ > . .

/
\

 
' 38' run smut-r sum ,

“‘Ha I" said Wilton ; "‘ and how was that done i’” I

“ You shall know. We had come to the island, and were
sitting under a tree. when a shot came—how I do not know, V
and he dropped dead !”

“ You buried him ‘2” ,

“ Yes, as well as I could.” , »

“ Liar,” muttered Wilton; “ you thrust him into a hollow
tree, like a dead dog.” ‘

“ What did you say 1’” asked the Frenchman.

“Nothing. It is a curious thing, the deatn of this young
man. You did not give me his name.”

“Vaudeleur D’Arigny. We were sent out to ﬁnd, if pos-_
siblo, the intentions of the enemy. Which way are you
bound ?” ~ .

“ I am forbidden to tell." ;

“Where shall 1 see you again i"

l
“ In Montreal.” 1
“ At what time ?" (
“ In about a month. Perhaps we shall meet sooner than i 1
that, if you expect to see service.” ’ .Y 1
“I have seen it long ago. You must have heard my 3' 1
name." ' t
“ Certainly. Being in the secret service, it has not been my ; c
happiness to know you. I should be glad to renew the ac-
quaintance at some future time.” , “
“I am coming to meet a chief at this point. You must 7“
have heard of him. He is called Wenona, the Giant Chief Ll
of St. Regis.” , , \ ,  o
I “I haVe seen him in Montreal.” replied the young man, I I
brieﬂy. “I must now bid you good-day. My business is  v
, urgent.” . - I I h
“ Why not come ashore and see the chief? ' Jean Chartier  n
will be there, though I don’t like the fellow. He is too kind It
to our enemies.” - r l
“ Thutis bad. They deserve no mercy."  04

V “Certainly not. Perish all Who strike against the lilies of

France! Jean Chm-tier will be the essence of politeness to ‘7 “‘
the enemy, even under ﬁre. I have known him to disarm a ‘

man, and then give him back the sword to renew the can- 1’:

‘, M» I. \ ‘ I

i * KWA‘AMOIWHOSIS. $9

“ What would you have done under the same circum-
stances 1'” "
“Kill my enemy by any means. Will you come and see
' the chief ?” ‘
“ I can not." . y
“ Then I give you good-day. I hope we may meet again
‘ _ soon.“ .
“ When We do, you shall be welcome," said Wilton, as the
;- boats separated. “ Yes, steel to steel, point to point, hilt to
‘1‘. 'hilt; I believe before God that yonder knave killed his friend.
‘ Helms it in his .face to .do a deed as terrible as that. My
curse upon his black thee, and blacker heart 1"
For two,days and nights he ﬂoated over the silent bosom
. j of the lake. Night was coming on as he neared the shore,
1 near the mouth of the Chamth river. Running his canoe
into the mouth of the river, he pushed for the shore. Near
the spot where he landed a tree had been uprooted and left a
cavity beneath. Into this cavity Wilton plunged, wearing the '
green uniform of the rangers. He emerged again, another
man, clad in the uniform of a French. partisan. His step;
his air, every thing ' was changed. You would have said
that the man who entered was not the same man who came
I out.”
A.‘ “En avant man enfant I" said the young man, laughing.
l “ Viva la Roi!"
i . He again took to the canoe, and paddled gently onward. He
5. knew that he could not proceed at mile from this point with-
 out tlte greatest‘danget'. The canoe glided through the water
almost without a ripple. .The keen eyes of the young
Voyager glanced froth side to side, conning every tree and
bush from which an arrow might be aimed at his heart. He
Was not at all surprised when a voice shouted:
r ’“ Qut‘ est ld I" ‘ ‘
“ U11 anti,” replied Wilton, taking great pains with his ac-
cent.
" “ Come on shore and let us see your face," said the voice.
it “Too many times men travel under false colors.”
‘ It Wilton o‘heyed without a word, and landing, was met by a
{French partisan, in the gaudy dress affected by these men. A
‘ hensyedﬁharp-visaged man, whom no danger could dam.

!

 
 / \‘/

v t ,
Til“ SILENT SLATER.

\

nothing appul, nothing fatigue. About him were grouped ,n t

motley band of men, in vurious rude dresses suited to their
forest training. They were twenty or thirty in number—In-
dians,ha1t1bi'eeds, Frenchmen as savage and unclean as the

others, and two or three men in the neat uniform of theFrench

army. ‘All looked at the young man curiously as he came into
their midst.

" “ Now, mes enfants," said the captain, roughly, turning to \

his men, “ you will hear me cutechize this lprk. If he trips
in a. a. single thing, remember your duty. Down he goes; for,
by the soul of the great Louis, he shall die.
are you ?"' _ '

“ I am called Egbert Corneille.”

“ Whither/are you bound ?”

“ To Montreal."

“ What will you do there ?"

“ Attend to the business I have in hand.”

“ What might that business be i’"

“ It might be any thing.”

“ What is it ?”

“ My own.” .

“You are sharp; but, at the same time, let me say that
you are playing with sharpened steel. I want you to look
me in the face and tell me whether your business is civil or
military.” ‘ ’ .

“ Civil. That is more than I can say of yours. Pesto,

‘man! who gave you the. right to meddle in my business ?

Remember that ‘French blood is hot.
much, I will not hear every thing. My business issuch that
I can not reveal it to every one. It is a. delicate business—-
antatfair of the heart. Ah, mon Dicu‘, you would not inter-
fere in a thing like that.” a. I

“‘ You are a thorough Frenchman, to say the least," said
the/other, laughing, “ and you can read a Frenchpmn‘s heart.
No, I can not interfere in an affair of that kind, if you will
show me‘a token.” ' _ >

Though I‘ will bear

“ It is here," said Wilton, drawing the locket from “his bo- _

com. “ Voice: I” l \
‘.‘ I See,",snid the captain. “ You shall be at lil)erty"to go.

53'“. as We mean to go to. the city in half a’n hour, perhaps

I

Now, then, .who

\,

\ dare go to her and say, Your brother is dead? How was it

, says. He does not pretend to know even from what direc-

lhis comrade was shot dead."

  
'\ . ‘~ ,

,u’m summon PARTXSAN. \ 81 I
you would do well to go in our company. It will save you ,
awkward questions in passing the barriers. Whence did you
come 1’" l ‘ t

“ From Ticonderoga." ‘

“ Hal did you meet any of our men on the lake i?”

“‘Yes; I saw Captain Mariot Dujardin, and spoke with
him." '

“\Scelcratsl I hate him. He. is un lache. Do you under-
stand me i—un lacliel i have sworn some day to make
daylight pass through his body. May I die if I do not keep
my word; and my name is Lamont—Claude Lamont, of
the Forty-third."

“ You must do asyou please, Monsieur le‘ Capitui‘he. This
man is no friend of mine. and, if I must tell the truth, I did
not like his face. Did you know that his companion was dead P” ‘

“ Who ?” demanded the captain, staring at him. “ His /
comrade? Not D’Arigny ?”

“ The same." Y

‘ “ Don’t say that, monsieur; you will break’my heart. And
I am a rough fellow, too. I have killed men—always in fair
battle, mind you. If there is any, dirty work'to be done. I
always have some one about me who is ready to do it. Don’t
tellme that the ensign is dead.”

“ It is too true.”‘ . ,

‘ “ You shock me. Let me tell you that there was no lad
more beloved in the whole army than D’Arigny; not a man- -
among us who would not risk a duel to get his favor. It
.was not altogether for himself. He has a sister,/liere in Mon-
treal, who is queen of the city; she has no rival. Every one
loves her—every one swears by her. And Vaudelour is
deadl My God, who will tell her ?"

“Did she love him very much '2"

e “ Love him! That is a tame word to describe their feel-
ing for one another. They adored each other. Who will

done 2/" V
“ He was killed on an island in the lake—so the captain

tion the bullet came. He only knows that it did come, one

  
THE SILENT 31AM

“ He was alone with the poor lad 1’” said the partisan, with

a suspicious accent. “ You tell me this ?” ‘
“ He was." '

“ Alone on an island. Do you know how far the island I

was from shore l?"

“About. a mile."

“ The ball could not come from the land 1’"

“ Impossible.” '

“Is there any place on the island where a man could
hide ‘2"

“ Not one."

“ And the captain saw nothing of this murderer, you
say i”

“ Nothing." ‘ r

V “ Strange. There is a mystery here. As I look at your

face,I read a dark suspicion there. We think the same. '

You believe, as I do, that this man murdered his friend. I
will ﬁnd the motive for you. You know nothing of the
character of this base man. I do; I have studied him for
ﬁve years. I know him to'be guilty of crimes which would
make an Indian shudder. .He has made the English more
bitterly our enemies by‘his inhuman cruelties. Woe to the
settlement upon which he makes a night attack l There is no
hope for them—man, woman, or child! I have seen him.
with his own linnd, strike down age and intimcy. I fought
him for it once, and he gave me a thrust through the shoul-
der in payment for one in the arm. I will never forget

‘ him." '

"‘ You seem to know him well.” ‘ I '

“ That is true; I have been with him a long time. This
black-hearted dog thinks he loves the sister-of D'Arigny. The
result—he persecutes her with his attentions. Her brother
takes no notice. He has faith that his beautiful sister will
never yoke herself with infant ', and he is right; she refused
him. Her brother upheld her in it. At the same time they

go out on the trail. He never comes back. That is a true
- picture.”

“ Then you think—3’ \ ‘

y“/'Phat this Idaho killed his companion and my friend?
“ V V .

    
«

“

    
mt

md'

 
i .

rm: assume , 88

“ If you ﬁnd it to be true, what will you do i”

“I will kill him. But, I make no doubt of it. You shall
re when he comes buck that I will insult him. He will re-
sent the insult. We shall meet. One of us will be killed;

If it should be I, promise me one thing.

“ What is that it” _

t “ That you will follow out the feud, and, dying, leave the
work to some brave man. who in turn shall give it to another,
until this beast ltas'beeu swept from the face of the earth.”

“I will, upon one condition.”

“ And that ‘2” '

“ That you stand by me in any diﬂicnlty I may be in be.
fore I leave Montreal.” ' . ~

“ It is a bargain! Shake hands upon it ! It shall go hard
but we will make this odious man avoid the face of the earth.
He can not kill us all." ’ ‘

“ No. What do you wait for now i’”

“ For a runner from a. party of Indians who went down
the lake a few days ago. They expected to capture a fellow
who is giving us a world of trouble—-a wily man. a credit to
his work. Ah, :1 few such would be the making of the French
army." .

“ What is he coiled ?”

“ He is best known by the sobriquet of the Silent Slayer,
which the Indians gave him—for what reason I know not.
They have a fable that he can shoot a riﬂe without making
any noise. All a mistake, of course."

“ Did you ever see him ‘2"

“No, nor any one else. He is invisible; he glides about
to places where no Englishman ever comes, and goes back

, unharmed. \ They do say that he has been in Montreal for over

I week. Such a man needs looking to.” t

“ And you sent a hand after him ‘2"

“ Yes; Rolling Thunder undertook the business. I never
had but one Indian whom I could send on an expeditiongvith
any hope of success." 3

“ And that one—"I t .

.-_“ IB'chona. Hal here comes the runner. Do you heat
Monti? Receive him,’ menI and bring him to me hen."

   
I

W“ . N THE sinner shun

CHAPTER V.
THE DOUBLE DUEL.

Tn man who entered the camp was dressed in the garb
of the St. Regis, and evidently had just arrived from a long
run. His soiled garments were covered with the dust of the
road. He was» a warrior of low stature, with a. malignant
eye, which the young man took care to avoid. He, recognized
him at once as one of the men who attacked himself and
Mick O’Toole in the pass. He could onlyehnpe that the l‘el-
~ low Would not recognize him in his present disguise.‘

" Ha, Rainbow,” said Captain Lamont, “ you are welcome.
What news ,do you bring Y” ‘ _

"‘ Rainbow brings bad news for the ear'of his white brother.
His heart is very sad."

“Speak out then; let us have the worst of it.
Rolling Thunder 1’" i

“ Rolling Thunder will never again trend the war-trail,”
said the runner. ' “ He has gone to the happy hunting-grounds
‘of his people. My heart is sad.” i ’

“ Deadl How came that about ?“ x

'In brief, sententious language, the Indian told the story of
the ﬁght in the pass. He dwelt largely upon the extraordl~
nary bravery of the Silent Slayer,~whom, to the delight of the

' young man, he described as a. man of giant stature!

“ The Giant Chief is mighty," snid Rainbow, “» and his arms
are swift to slay; but, what is he to the Terror of the
Weads ?” '

“ Did you see him i’” '

“ I only saw his face, and it was like a ﬂame.
l‘hunder fell dead before it. When we Looked at the chief
he was dead. There will be wailing in the lodges of the St.
Regis when this is known. Men will bow their heads .in
grief, and be sad for the great chief who is gone."

“ He .was a bloody. villain, and a ﬁt consort for Captain

Dujal'din. whom may all things good confound,” whispered
, Lamont to Wilton. l ,

Where is

flailing

'51")

mg
the
mt .'

latent within our reach to attain the great end.

, hunting-grounds, with those who have gone before.

\ ,

THE FLAG. «L

“ Why do you use such instruments ?”

“ Lord bless us, man i We must use any and every instm
Englishmen
may lOve their country and ﬂag, but not as u. Frenchman loves
his. Wherever they see the lilies ﬂout nloft, ztnd lieitr thema-
tional music, the heart of the true Frenchman leaps for joy.
They glory in their ﬂag. To make it greater, to see it: wave
over newly-conquered lands, is their mission. A Frenchman
dies on the ﬁeld of battle, or goes to sleep in his blood : what
to him is the agony of death or of wounds? All is snﬂ‘ered
and sacriﬁced for the, ﬂag." '

“ Such devotion is noble," said the young man, breathing

hard and looking ndmiringly art the ﬁtce before him, which, ‘
under the inspiration of the moment, became brighter as ‘he
talked. “I admire it in any man, much more in you.”
I “ You do not think me capable of this? Believe me, all
of us do not ﬁght for pay. I would not draw sword or pis-
tol for money. But, I must soft-soup this Indian (1 little. He
expects it. Listen to me. ‘

“ My brother," he said, addressing _the Indian, “ our hearts
are very sad at these \words. We feel that at great man has
left us,‘and’ we are glad to know that he died by no common
band. A great warrior should know how to die nobly. None
who have seen Rolling Thunder doubt for :1 moment that he‘
know how to die. You have buried him?”

" We have.” ‘ ' .

' “ His bones will lie for from the burial-grounds of his fath-
ers," said the partisan, “ but his spirit will ronm in. the happy
Such
men can die, but. there is mi open path before them, in which
they can tread who have died nobly. Let my brother's heart
be at ease. Rolling Thunder is hnppy now." ‘

“And slntll the man who slew him wullt fearlessly forth,
and laugh at the St. Regis? He is a devil. Bend-tbc-Bow
h: wounded, Sleep-by-Diiy is Wounded ; they heard no sound,
but the bulls pierced them before they could say from whence
they‘came." ' \ V

.“ He is indeed a devil,” said the Frenchman, gravel . ’
“\My brothers must catch him and burn him v‘rithﬂre.» Wheie,
it Wenone ?” ' " \

 
r' ‘l

,, /

l9 , ' rm: mex'r snuxn‘.‘

“He is on the trail, and will be in Montreal as won as
you." , ‘

“ Then we had better be‘upon the march. Up with you,
'hoysl Shoulder your pieces and away to the city! Meet
mé at the Fleur tle Lis to-morrow at ten, and you shall know
what you are to do."

Wilton had kept his face somewhat turned from the eyel
of the savage, throughout the interview.
was sharp-sighted, and was not quite certain he did not sus-

pect they had met before. 3 He was going into the very den «

of the lion. This did not frighten him; he had been there
before, and he marched as coolly by the side of his new friend
as if he trod on English soil, backed by a. regiment of British

troops. < To be sure, he kept his eyes about him, and watched I

every movement of his new-found friends, not knowing at
what moment they might turn to enemies.

“ You have (heard of this Silent Slayer, as the savages call
him it” asked Lamont, as they walked on together, while the
men struggled off at will. ’

“ Yes." I

“ Have you ever seen him i”

“ I have seen a man called by that name," replied Wilton,
“ and I must say the devil is not so black as he is painted. I
saw him several times: in fact, we ate at the same table. It
was during a visit I made to Albany, in the time of Baron
Dieskau,” ‘

“ What was he like i”

“ The Silent Slayer, or the marquis?”

“ The ﬁrst.”

“ Can you not take the word,of the Rainbow that he is of
giant size ?" ' ' ~

“ An Indian loves to exaggerate," replied the captain.
“ Let us have your idea of him.” ‘ _,

“ He is a. young fellow, no larger than 1. He may be a
little taller, butI think nOt. His hair and eyes are eXactly
the color of mine. I rather liked the fellow, and helium};
(“old-blooded way of going among the Canadian cities Which

rather pleases me.” , '

“ So it does me. I like bravery, wherever I ﬁnd it. We‘
have. some men who can appreciate a brave deed. Jean

\

He knew the fellow'

 
'\ 1 ',’|‘

33x" ‘  'rnnim om mas. ' r _ '8'?" x
 Chartier and Moran, and—shall I say it ?—your humblesen
% . vant, have friends on the English side. Moran saved the life

L - of Putnam, a noted colonial leader, when he was tied to a
‘ ) stake. Paste! ' Do not, let us ﬁght as if our only thought
 was to exterminate each other! I am a little rough some-
" 4 times, but my bark is worse than my bite.”
,, They were marching through an open wood, havingleft
'< the river, to cross the neck of landbetween the Chainny and
.' the St. Lawrence, at Montreal. The country was indeedl
beautiful, the season being that time in the Canadian summer
L when every thing looks its freshest. The dark foliage of the

 
‘ pine contrasted with the different shades of green on the oak
, and laurel. Under foot was a leafy carpet, and the knolls
 were crested with wood ﬂowers of various shapes and hues
Birds ﬂitted in ﬂocks or in pairs through the branches. It
‘ seemed impossible that this charming woodland retreat could
,. be desecrated by man’s hatred, but it was so. This tender
grass had before now upheld the burden of a bleeding man
In such leafy glades, savage ingenuity had tortured its victims
Under the stately trees their groans had ascended, mingled
, with yells of savage triumph as they danced about the fatal
 tree.‘ .

“ Iam a little cautious how I traverse the woods alone just
now,” said Lamont. “A few days ago I had occasion ‘to
punish three of my soldiers for some offense, whereupon they
deserted. I have since heard that they have sworn to take

' my life. I believe that they were incited to this conduct by
l , our very good friend Captain Dujardin. I hope I may meet
3 the villains one by one, but they are just the kind of fellows
" l to, shoot a man from behind a bush. Curse all cowards ""
“ Are they in the woods?" , \

\ . “Yes. One of my fellows met them on the Chambly yes-
terday, and it was then they made their threats as to what 7
they would do with me when they had the opportunity.
They may get (it yet to their sorrow. Yet two of them are

l ' . ‘ excellent soldiers, and the best men with the small-sword I

, had in my command. One of them really is better than I
.with‘ the sword, You never saw such a fellow. Look out
for him! Nothing is' lost in his play. Arlen—handed man, he,

I ' comes, at vou with a pliant wrist, position neat, mathematical. ‘ i

 I ’ ' - 2 ~ ‘ ’ ’

 
r

 
THE srnmrr ’sLAYmL'

the.very imperstmation \of. a devil! You never sawlsuch‘.
' work.
handle him. The third is a clumsy boor, of whom there is
no fear. Do you fence i" x ‘
“ A little," replied Wilton; “ enough to hold my own. I

do not care to he tried.” 7

“ Do not say that; a little swordQexercise, now and then,

cnlivens a man. One feels a new creature after something of
the kind—at least, I do. Zounds 1 Hear the steel hiss, look
' into‘thc eyes of your enemy, read there his determination to
conquer, and then set the teeth hard and ﬁght!
arm drives a stiﬂ‘ blade home 1”

‘ “Skin is better than strength."

“I‘know it.’ If you ever cross blades with Seguin, the
man I ﬁrst spoke of, beware of a disengagement he uses. It
is simple—the simplest disengagement in the world ; but it is
done like lightning.” '

“ I do not expect to meet him.” \ , ,

“But you will,” said Lamont, suddenly lowering his voice.
“ 1 wits afraid this would happen. Do not turn your head.
They are crouching beside the path about twenty yards to the
left.
your sword and attack the man in the slashed jacket.”

“ What do you mean to do ‘3” I

“ I mean to shoot the fellow in the ﬁrst bush.
boor. He may as well be out of the way." 3 I
“ You might. miss. Shall I not try a. shot at another at the
same time if” I \

“.No,” replied Lamont, “I want some sword-play, and I
will have it. When’you hear the pistol, at the man in the
slashed jacket”. '

"' Is that the best fencer f?" I - .

‘No, the other is he. He wears a hunting-shirt. If you
, look closely you will see him behind yonder blastedpine. I

, will cure him of tramping the 'woods to do murder, or die in
the attempt. Curse such villains! En avant! we shall see
What we shall see." -

‘That is the

. They pressed forward quickly. Wilton longed to take his /
riﬂe from his back and try a shot at the fellow behind the tree. _’
He even loosened-it forthat purpose, and then left “in that ' I

/ ,

The other rogue is very nearly my match ; but‘I can I

A strong

Do not notice them, but when you hear my pistol, draw ‘

    
t,,__.:_‘

   
kﬁcj...»

; ‘,__.i_-

y.
l
t

l

h

‘ it as well.

A DOUBLE DUEL,

‘. situation, so that he could throw it off at a moment‘s warn-
; S

ing.

The burly desperado whom Lamont had marked for the -
.tpistol-shot was crouching behind a bush, riﬂe in hand, waiting

for the coming of the two men, but it. was not intended that
he should attack, for his confederates had the greatest eonﬁ-,
deurexin theirwskill in fencing, and never thought it possible
that they could be overcome.

They were now nearly opposite the cover in which the, big
villain lay. There was a movement of the right hand of La
mont, and the brigdtt barrel of a pistol shone in the sun.
The 'next moment came a sharp report, and the man in am-‘
bush threw up his hands, and without a cry dropped on his
face behind the hush. At the same moment the others sprung
from behind the trees with drawn swords. They were met by
men equally‘determined. The spot where they confronted
each other was a little open space in the forest, carpeted by
a short ,green turf.
laugh. ’ l

“ I greet you, me; enfuntt I What do you want? Tojonrs

~ will not trouble anybody. He has taken a blue-pill. I am

afraid he will ﬁnd it hard to digest.”
“ You have murdered him,” cried the foremost of the two;
“ and now we will kill you.” .

“Thanks! you do me too- little honor, and my companion

‘ none at all.\ You forget that I am a little used to sword-prac-

tice and that my' young'friend may ltnow a. little something 01
We shall soon see." , ' '

Ashe spokePWilton suddenly sprung at the man in the

duntingelu‘rt. He was a tall fellow. with a nosethookcd’

like the bill of'a vulture, and a cruel. look in his dark

I ‘ eyes.

“ He is mine i” cried Lamont.

But, before he could say another word, the man in the
dashed jacket, whom he had destined as the opponent of the
stranger, made a thrust at him, which he was obliged to

‘- parry. 1 \ I
‘, I“Carte and counter cartelf‘ he cried, as he returned the
rthrust'ot‘ his opponent; “ keep the wrist at work like a wind-
‘mill for that fellow ; I can‘atien‘d tcthis one." i I \

Laurent greeted them with a loud‘

’mmr mm,

Attch that the captain had all he could do to keep oﬂ’ the
furious attacks'of his assuilaint, who was called Langller.
Lamont wanted to get the job done as soon as possible, being
apprehensive that Wilton was no match for 'his assailant. lie
began to press his adversarysﬂer the ﬁrst ﬁve minutes, forcing
him back step by step. The. soldier had not the iron endur-
ance which characterized Lamont, whose swift passes umnzcd
Add appalled him. Bleeding from a wound in the shoulder
and another in the arm, the fellow still struggled feebly to
keep his arm up against the captain. At last, an unlucky slip
gave Lamont the opportunity he sought. The point of his
keen blade slipped under the guard of Langlier, and he began
to bear down upon the hilt. In this play the strongest wrist
must win the day if neither sword broke. In, this case, the
strain was too much for the.blade of Langlier;, it broke close
to thehilt, and left him at the ofﬁcer’s mercy. Lamont took
advantage of it by knocking the fellow downrand binding his
hands and feet with his own belts. This done, he turned to
the other pair, fully expecting to ﬁnd Wilton bleeding from
.half a dozen wounds. .

To his surprise it was all the other way. Wilton was tight-
ing without any appearanceof fatigue, though the combat
had lasted ten minutes, while Seguin, whose garments were
stained with his own blood, was using all his arts (to break
through the wall of steel which seemed to surround the young
man. . , ‘

“ Ah, he i” cried the captain. “ The biter is bit! Go on,
my worthy young man. By heaveujl love you them this
hour." I

The play of Wilton was wonderful. , Standing with his lei!

7 foot advanced, for he was left-handed as well as his enemy, he

parried all assaults with the greatest ease, and repaid them 7

by painful wounds. Seggin, panting and excited, when he
heard the captain's exclamation, knew that his companion had
I, been overcome, and that. he was alone—alone to face two truly

terrible foes. v ' ’ a

“.I won’t interfere, as I thought [of doing,” said Lamont,

seating himself’on a log. “ How do you ﬁnd him,
Z Q“ ? 006' be trouble you much '1’"
, “Not in. the, least,” replied/Wilton. “He has allover!

L

my , deer

r

1.4.

  
H~A¥H

he

.ad
sly

he I

' /

‘ this.”

I . the ﬁrst tiufe he put- forth all his power.
, seemed to ﬂash before the eyes of the Frenchman. _ Before be
"fairly understood how it was done, the sword was wrenchcd

' his comrades.

; ‘ ‘ nun“ um.
\ \

' new to get out of temper. That is had. A true swordanun‘

. is cool, and he is hot.” » ', , , ,
“ Devil 1" hissed Seguin, making a thrust in tierce; “, parry

' that!"

“ Certainly," rejoined Wilton,
“And that l" _ .
“ Why not ?” replied the Silent Slayer, returning the thrust
by a deep wound in the shoulder. " Don’t you think you had

with an aggravating smile.

i better give it up i”

“Do you think I will yield while Lamont sits grinning
there ? Never 1” ~ ‘ .

“ Then keep your breath ; you will need it all." _ ‘

Up to this time Wilton had not attacked his enemy, simply.
thrusting when an opening was made, but not forcing the play.
The persistency of the fellow vexed him a little, for, though
an able swordsman, Seguin was a child in the hands of his
adversary, who had few equals in the British army. Indeed,
he had made the use of arms a study, and could ﬁght with any
Weapon. To the. use of the sword he was particularly
adapted, having long arms, a strong wrist, and the peculiar.

, advantage which a left-handed man always has in a battle of

this kind.
..“ Yield, fool," said Wilton. “I am getting tired of

“ Are you 7" replied the deserter.
youxyet l" I ,
The eyes of Wilton fairly scintillated at the word. and for
A wall of ﬁre

“ I am not; I’ll have

from his grasp, and he lay prostrate, with the foot of Wilto

‘on ahis breast, and his point at his throat. '

“Now will you yield, villain i" he cried.

‘ The fellow was silent, ‘too proud to beg for mercy, and
rather Wishing. death by the sword tlnm by the shot of
But the captain interposed and tied the vain
qdished man in the same manner as his companicn. Lamont
blew a shrill whistle, and in a few moments severalof his < ,

' men came back.

“Take charge of these rascals." said the ‘oﬁoar, “ and‘

,. v .

.,\

“I, .

 
\

I

 
" 48 r ‘ was smart! sum. ‘1
deliver them safely in Montreal. Go to yonder bus'n,Gautiet_
and'see if the maul shot is alive." ‘ .

‘ The order ‘was obeyed, and the victim found lying "n his
face,- as when'he fell. Theyrolled him over on his back and
saw his face frozen into a kind of stony horror, terrible‘to
see. The deadly bullet had struck him in the center of the
forehead and passed out at the back of the head.

" Bury him I” said Lamont, brieﬂy. “ He deserved his fate,

no matter how he got his death.
. Ia bu h, to destroy honorable men. You need not wait, boys.
Let autier and Indinn Tom ﬁnd a resting-place for this car- ,
rion. The rest of you take the prisoners to the city. Say to
. Colonel St. Claire that they attempted to murder me, and 'only
failed because my friend and myself happened to be the bet-
ter swurdsmen. .Away with you. Do not let them escape.

If you do, your lives shall answer for it.” ~
, “ We will keep them safe, Monsieur le Capitalne,” said one
«of the men. “ En avant, messieursl Forward to your burial.
 You know the end. ‘ You deserted,’ the‘commission will say.

‘ You attacked your superior oﬂiceri Guilty 1’ Shot 1"

' \Vith this curt summary of the probable course of the aﬂ‘air,«

the men disappeared, driving their captives before them.
, “ How far is it to Montreal now ?” asked the scout, as they
~ proceeded on their way. _ I
“About ﬁve miles; we cnn walk it in an hour. I wish to
be in the city as soon as possible, to see those vngabouds un-
der the sod.
, them. I shall be rid of two dangerous enemies, and lose one
of the best swordsmen in America. I am sorry for that.
Why ‘need a m' u who carries a good blade be a villain? It
1': annoying! But, pal-bleu ! what a Suladin you are l, I give
you my honor you would puzzle the best master of fence who
ever trod this soil. “ Will you give me lessons?" ’
“ If. I have the time.” .
i “ How long will you remain in Montreal ?"
’ .“II can not say.
ﬁnished, I shall go back to Ticonderoga or Frontenac. I think
I Shall be away in a week.”
“ Can vyougive me an hour each day
“Pumps. I will try.”',

.I'

\ .

He will never again lurk in .

There will be a commission to-morrow to try -

When the business I have undertaken in.

  
s.it.}1t'uv_-,a:- ..- -11.“.

.r‘

 
/

» of the river which form the island were in plain sight.

I

> I. v_.r._ .\/‘
«

Pgﬂlyﬂ THE mature.

“Thanks I want your way of getting over that rascsl’s

disengagement. It did not trouble you in the least, but 'it f

mthered me it great deal." I

“I will teach you that, gladly. I shall need your help
when I get to the city, in ﬁnding some persons I must see.
You will aid me in this ?" \ ~

“ You have my promise," replied Lamont. “ You are my
friend from this hour, if you turn out to be Mephistophiles
himself.” , ‘ 7

They were now toiling up the southern slope of a low
mountain. The path was difﬁcult, but they clamhered on,
ending their ascent by grasping the limbs of the trees and the
bodies of the smaller growth. They reached the summit, and .
Lamont, stretching out his hand. cried, “ Montreal l'\’

/

7

CHAPTER vi.

JUST IN TIME.’ A ‘

WILTON cast his eyes upon the scene below. A panoramic
View of the city lay before him. Those who have visited the ‘
Canadian city know the position of the mountain. It lies to ~
the south of the town, and is a round eminence, giving a.’
commanding View of the surroundings. The two brtinches
The
young scout had seen Montreal before, but never under cir‘w
cumstences like these. Something seemed to say, to’him that
now he saw the city in which he was to encounter dangers ‘

 greater than any he had ever known before.

“ What are . you thinking of, my friend ?” asked Lamont,
kindly. V

x “ My thoughts nreso conﬂicting that I can hardly tell you,” " ‘
‘ replied the young man. “ A thousand things are in my mind,

if I could only give them expression. Let _us goon.”

‘ ‘ A quarter of a. mile further on, they‘eame to the ﬁrst bar-

tiers The captain readily passed,_an.d gave his word fer 

  
\

in all”?! SLAYER.

“I don’t know who the devil you are,” he said, “ but you
wear a. good word, and I will pass you anyhow.”

Three barriers wereencountered in succession, and they
entered Great St. James street. Not far fromvthe spot where
the Ottawa House now Stands, then ﬂourished an ancient
hoatelrie known as the “ Fleur de Lis.” It was a low, rnma
bling,awooden~building, and before the door swung a sign

 which gave pnssers to understand that for a. small considera-

tion Jack Delois stood ready to furnish food and shelter for
man and beast. There was something enticing in this quaint
old structure, with, its wide, hospitable doors, Weary with
his long'jonrney, the young men did not need much pressing

to turn aside into the room where the guests were served with .

drink, for the purpose of cracking a bottle of wine with La-
mont. Severaltahles were set at various points around the
' room, and the two took one near the window, whence they
could look out into the street. A man in, a. white apron,
* portly and rubicund, the very beau ideal of a host, came bui-
tling up. '

“A bottle of your best wine, Jacques. You know my
brand. Bring me any thing else, and your life shall pay the
ferf'eit." ‘ . ~

t‘ It shall be as Monsieur le Capitaine desires}? said mine
host, hurrying away. He was back in n momeht, bearing
glasses and ,a high-necked bottle, which had only seen the
light in thirty years, while being conveyed across the At-
lantic. ‘

“,A corkscrew, Jacques," said the captain.

Jacques produced the needed article. and tne captain drew
the cork, at the same time descanting loudly on the merits of
the wine. '

“ Bottled in the Golden Age, I give you my word, Monsieur
Egbert. ‘Xh, see it sparkle!
ever drained 9. clioicer cup Let me give you a toast: To
the ladies of France. For, before king and country, they

' have our worship." ‘
They drank the toast laughingly, and somehow" forgot the

king and country when the next glass came, for Wilton broke —
111m sudden laudations of the wine. which was really of an , »
excellent quality. The generous ﬂuid cheered hlm‘aﬂer his"

 
Taste that, and tell me if you,

   
I
’ r

, ' {name A mm.-

long march, and his cheeks took a glow like that they had
1 show: when ﬁghting ,with Seguin in the woods. ‘
 Several persons, passing the window, looked curiously at

it v - the/new-comer, drinking with Captain Lamont; for, as in all 1

places, a stranger is an object of curiosity to everybody. Two
" table, receiving an introduction to Wilton under-his assumed
name; r - '
“ A young man I found in the woods,” cried Lamont,
warmed by the wine, “ who can take a small-sword and beat
, you all together.” .
“ Captain i" said Wilton, in a deprecating manner.
“ It’s true, gentlemen! You all know that villain Seguin.
You know, too, that we thought him the best swordsman in
Canada. Very well: Seguin is a child in the hands of this
7- gentleman.” l ‘ '
The young men looked surprised.
. “ Don’t quarrel with him, I warn you.
on your own heads. He is not quarrelsome." -
At this moment a man of middle stature entered the room
 and seated himself at a table not tar away, ordering a bottle
’of "‘vin ordinaire." No one in the room could have said
that this man looked at anybody except the landlord, and yet
he knew every individual present. He had a peculiar Way
_ of looking at a person without lifting his headgwhlch some
i‘ , men acquire. He knew that Wilton was at the table, and he
" also knew who he was; for this was .Despurd, the English
agent in Montreal, a man who had for ten yearsior more fur¢
nished them with information of - the plans of the French.

/ 'It was at his houso Wilton always stopped, whatever hil
disguise. A V

vb < ..-.. ,.t : .‘

could not be deceived when Wilt/m made no attempt at com
cealment further than wearing a French dress.

neither spoke. Despard drank his wine iu’silence, paid his

,7 .. ‘ for sonnething‘Which lay upon a. table near the door. As Des.

“M‘s;

  caught hold of his hand to save himself from a fall. No

‘.

 
I), or three [young ofﬁcers strolled in and joined them at the‘

If you do, be a «

AL, ’ ~ Notwithstanding the fact that each recognized the other,~

bill, and rose to depart. At. the same moment Wilton 'roso‘ «

\

. .The keen-eyed spy, who had seen him in many. disguises, , /

'  was passing out, the young man tripped upon his/ sword./ "

 
.ﬂY

xx,

' 7113 “NT sum '. '

one in the room sawany thing more than an unlucky stnm- I

ble, yet in that moment Wilton had contrived to slip a note
into the hand of Despard, which he; had prepared some days"
before. I .

“ Come back,” cried the young oﬂicers. “ Pardieu. you
must not drink this wine like water. I have only taken Tour
glasses; and behold, I ﬂy—I am a bird."

“ I must leave you,” said Wilton.
me.”

“ But/we shall see you again i"

“ Without doubt." ‘ ‘ v ‘

Bidding. them good-evening, he left the room. It was new
dark»; but few people were in the street.

At the cornei'xof the nextblock, a man came out and met
him. It was Despard. Afew low, words passed, and then
the two started down the street together, in the direction of
.the cathedral. They had not gone a\hundred’ yards when
the sudden clash of arms startled the echoes of the narrow
street. Dnrting, forward on the instant with drawn sword,
Wilton found himself detained by Despard.

“ What would you do?” ‘ '

“It is a ﬁght l Don’t you hear the swords i"

“ Let them brawl," said Despard. coolly. .

But, the sound of a woman’s voice was heard in the din.
Wilton brokeaway ‘fr m the detaining grasp, and Seeing th'at
he could not restrain tie ardent young man, Despard grasped
his own, weapon and followed. IThe moon was now shining

“ You must excuse

' J brightly, and they saw a sight which might have warmed‘tne .

coolest blood. An Indian of giant stature stood in the middle
of. the street, in a noble and commanding attitude. Wilton
knew him. It was Wenona, the .Giant Chief. He had thrown

Oil his blanket, and appeared clad in a sort of robe of wolf- ,

skin, with fringed leggins and moccasins. * His breast and
nuns were bared, and the great ridges of his powerful
muscles rose, fold upon 'fold, denoting his wonderful strength.
In his right hand he grasped a tomahawk of great size, such

as ﬂow could wield in oneﬂmnd, but which seemed but a,

feather in his gragp. I / ,
His head was crowned by the eagle-plumes of a chief, and
“Tm 0’6 was ﬁxed upon four men who were in a group

,.\ I ,
l .

        
.~ 1%.. it.

yu—w

! . crouched a woman, who had uttered the cries which brought

‘ rushed to their comrades‘ aid. The eyes of W enona ﬂashed ‘

‘ sword in hand. Wilton darted in, and took oﬂ' the attention

him of one. The clash of steel by this time roused the guard

 (alight swordsman again. What; have you had another bout, ’
their?" C \ ‘ -

 
, ‘ A s'raewr ADVENTURE. ; I»? V“ _

~ I

bemre‘ him. Behind him, and apparently protected by him, . '

Wilton to her aid.
' t‘ Stand back there i" cried the chief in excellent French.
.“ .What do you want ?" , . ,

The men were half-drunk Canadians, of mixed blood, and
they snarled at the speaker like tigers. .

“ We want the girl," replied one. “ Whatlbusiness have
you to interfere, Wenona t” "

The chief answered by a gesture of contempt, and mo
tioned the speaker away. ‘ 4‘

“ Down with him i" ‘

They sprung at the Indian together. In a moment the
headmost assailant fell, stricken down by the ﬂat of the v"
hatchet. To the surprise of Wilton, the giant seized the pros-
trate man by the shoulders and swung him over his head, strik-
ing down the next comer. Against this novel weapon the re-
maining men dared not strike. They drew back in confusion, "
but at the same time three more came out of a side-street and ‘

\

ﬁre, and dashing down the senseless man he held, he darted
at. the ‘othérs, and, seizing one of them, whirled hitil shriekingl
‘over his head, then (lashed him to the pavement completely
stunned. As he 'did this, all the others rushed at the chief,

‘of two of the assailants, until Despard, more wary, relieved

and they were heard coming up the street on the double-quick.
The assaulting party gave it up, and disappeared doww a
dark alley, just as the‘guard appeared on the scene. -The
Giant Chief had seized upon the man who attacked him last, u xx
and putting him under his arm, was shueezing his throat at
intervals, making hisscreams for mercy come in short and ﬁt-
ful notes. The lady‘now came forward and the captain of the I
guard h‘urried up. It ’was Lamont. I , . y ' \-
“ By my faith, chief, you have been making enable slaugh.
tel-\here. What is the matter? Sacrel if there is not my

“ Not much, captain. The-rascal ran, utters pass or m“ , _.  ‘

    
/ t

/

/

_ ms srLsN'r ’smrm

What is the matter here 1"

“1 Warrant you.
.I know nothing of it. myself,”

“ The chief can tell you.
replied Wilton.

“ Speak, Wenona,” said Lamont.

“ The white girl was passing,” replied thé chief. “ Four men
tried to take hér away. The St. Regis respect women. We-
nona would not. suﬂ‘er so great a wrong, so he saved her from
them. Then came others and fought me. But, the young
(white warrior with the long knit’e came, and they ran away
when they heard you coming. It is well.”

“ And who is the lady ‘2” said Lamont, advancing nearer,
and looking at her closely. ' ‘ ’

“ It is I, Captain Lamont," replied a silvery voice.

“Marie D’Arigny l” cried the captain. “ What an outrage!
,Do you know‘ who the ruﬂians were ?” '

“ You may ﬁnd that easily,” replied the young lady.
“ These are my ﬁrst assailants at your feet.”

Under the application of bayonet-points the stupeﬁed men
came to their senses and were assisted to rise. Looking at
them closely, Lamont recognized them as privates in Captain
Dajardin’s company. They were sent away under guard.
Wilton was looking earnestly at Mademoiselle D'Arigny. As
nearly as he could tell in that uncertain light, she was the
original of the picture he had taken from the dead body on
the island. As he stood gazing at her, he was aroused from
his reverie by the voice of Captain Lamont.

“ Monsieur Egbert Corneille,” said he, “ let me present you

to the i'aVorahle notice of Mademoiselle D'Arigny. Made-
moiselle, I make you acquainted witlka swordsman second to
none whom I know in America.”

“ I can Well believe it,” replied the yonnglady, giving him
her hand cordially in the frank way which Frenehwoman have,
.“ since I have seen something of his prowess. I must
thank him for myself." ' "
‘ “ No thanks, mademoiselle.

3 service amply répays any little danger connected with it."

. “ You are pleased to be complimentary,” said the' young'

.1
lady. f‘I‘would thank the chief, but he allows no thanks.

> What a Hercules he is. ', Those villains were straws inputs :
, buds!" ‘  ‘ '

The pleasure of doing you;

 
‘ amendments , ' 193

“ He is the strongest man in Cunads,” said Lamont. V,

“ I have a wish to prefer. My brother is not '91 home, but ‘
the house is in my hands to entertain his friends. Let mebeg
that you, Mom'ieur Cornellle, and your friend, wi'.._ meet Captain
 ‘ Lumont at dinner to-morrow, at my house.” ‘
' “ For myself,” said Wilton, “ I shall be only too happy. A! ' \
~ l for my friend, Monsieur Despnrd, it is for himself to my.” r
I, ‘ , “ I never go out to dine,”rsuid Despard, gruﬁiy ' ‘
1r “ I should be glad of your company, sir,” said the young lady,
I
f

hospitably. * I ‘
/ “ You must excuse me, mademoiselle. My habits are those ‘
i '1 of forty years, and I can not break them now. You do me too
" ’ much honor."
, “ But Monsieur Egbert does not know the wny tr. vour
mouse.” said Lamont.
“ Monsieur will escort me home, if he chooses, in company
1 / with Monsieur Desbard, and then he can not miss the way
 —that is, if he lodges with Monsieur Despardl He goes my
' way, at least." ‘ ;
“ Have 'it your own way," said Lamont. “ You dine at
" ﬁve, I suppose.”
, “ romptly. See that you are in time, Monsieur to Capi-
l ' “1110-” ‘
“ Good meat never gets cold by my delay,” laughhgly re-
sponded Lamont. “I give you good-evening. Now chief, '
if you will go with me I am at your‘service. I stop at the
'Fleur de Lis. You must ﬁnd me out tomorrow. Monsieur

\

Egbert." .
f I “ I will, if possible. Give you good-night,oaptuin.”
; ' Mademoiselle D’Arigny took his arm, and they walked

slowly nway.‘ Despard endured this for a moment, and the»,
\ ,telling the young man that he would ﬁnd him at his house,
‘ileppcd swiftly along. The mind of Wilton was in a tumult
“I He was in agony for the light-hearted girl Whose little hand
was clinging to his arm, and whose happineu he must crash
by telling of her brother’s death. , She prattled on as only a
Frenchwoman can, and he became intoxicated by her grace

1‘" or language. They stopped at length before a large stone‘ *
4 ,house, with beautiful grounds aroundtit, not many blooks‘ﬁ‘om
, Erosion of the cathedral. They stood 'at the gate a long “on .

 
' . \ (a. disaffected man I met.

I

m 31mm sum

‘ talking of \various‘things', until Wilton started, and looked I“ '

his Watch. V

“ It is'late ‘1’” she said, inquiringly.

“ After twelve.
been too entertaining, mademoiselle. I have something to
tell you, but'I will not tell you now. Or stay. When does
Captain Dujardin come home 1’”

“He is here to-night; he came with the chief.
he meant to call to-night. I must bid you‘good-evening. Dc
not forget the hour we have for» dinner. I wish you would I
tell me your secret now. I do not like to wait. Ban m'r.’_’

I
——_.___

i

C H A P T E R V I I .
um I
WILTON found Despnrd chaﬁng at his long delay. The

man was a monomaninc in his hatred of the French, by whom ,

he had been brought up, although he was in reality p.11 En-
glishman. ' l ' l
., “ You are wasting precious time in idle dalliance, monsieur.”
said he. “ I do not like it."‘ ' ‘ ’
*9 It shall not last long, Monsieur Dcspard,” said Wilton.
“ I have reasons for wishing to know this younglady. ‘ When,
I explain the matter to you I am sure you_will not blame
me.” . ‘ \ - /
“ It does not matter; I do not wish to wait for explana-
tions of any kind, as long as you do not allow it to interfere‘
« in business. But I do not like to have a woman in my u;-
t'airs. There is work to do this night.”
“ What work ?" .
“ There is to be a council at the castle.
If ﬁve could get the papers of that
meeting we need do no more, All the lending menof the
0010“ are here, and whatever they agree on; that will be the
plea of the campaign”, . ‘ r ,

You have yourself to blame.” You have ,

I believe '

I learned it through '

 
. .~ ., n..- . .__A.__ V -

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‘1

\,-

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I

  
rinse massacres

. ' l/ a

“ Undoubtedly. But how are we to obtain access to that
castle?" _ . ‘

“Leave that to me. I know the ways of that..building

, as well as any man in the city. ’I‘o-morrow night is the'
time." , ' . v

I‘ It is: precious opportunity, which we must embrace." 9
laid the young man, solemnly. “It will be ‘at the peril of
your life and mine, but if we succeed, who can calculate the
advantage to the coIonies I” ., -

“I take the risk," said Despard, coolly. “ I have entered’
upon this work with open eyes. If I die to-morrow it will
be with the glorious thought that I have done some harm to

rance. I hate their country ; I hate their laws.”

“ Why do you hate them ?" ’

“ I cannot tell you now. It is enough that I will do any
deed, risk any death, to injure the nation. \ Enough of this; \.
go you to rest. To-morrow, mix as much as you choose
with these people. But beware of the Giant Chief and of
Dujnrdin." ,

“Why of Dujardin “I”

“ Because he will hate you like death when he ﬁnds you ,

/ ~favored by Mademoiselle D’Arigny, as you will be. You

\ have appeared to her, on your ﬁrst meeting, in the attitude

of a hero. ' First impressions are strongest. You will always
’be a hero in her eyes." ’ ' ,
Wilton ﬂushed' and looked down. They retired at once. '

'Early next day the young man walked down to the Fleur

de Lis. As he passed the house of Mademoiselle D’Arig'ny,

' he saw her at the window, and then he knew how beautiful

she was. He had seen her the night before under the uncer-

tain light of the moon. Now, in the brightness of the ra-

ing, her clear face set in a little mullioned window as in a

frame, she looked down at him. Her dark hair ﬂoated in

heavy, disheveled curls about her face. Her proﬁle was pure
and clear as a cameo, her lips just parted. He removed his
'hat and made a polite obeisance. ' ‘

, “ Good-morning," She said. “ Do not forget to come to-da'y,

.‘nd come early, I am dying for your secret.” .

; , He again felt a pang, as he thought that he must throw-I
cloud anther young life, unless Dujurdin spoke before him.

 
m SILENT. sum

. a he might do. He wished that he might,"f0r then the Elm
' bitterness Would be passed. '

At the Fleur de' Lis he found Lamont, who was eager for
a bout with the foils. Nothing else Would suit him. and the
tables were set back, gloves, masks, and foils pretlueed, and

the two had a set-to with the buttons on. In the course of I

the struggle, the young men he had met the night before came
in, and with them Wenona.

Wilton fenced with several of the oﬁicers,showlng wonder-
fnl’ skill with his weapon. In short, not one of them escaped
a palpable hit.

“ I told you so,” said anont.‘ “ He is n devil of a fellow

I with the small-sword. I wish we had a few like him. What
do you think of his play, chief?"

“ Geod," said W enona. “ Where he learn 1’”

The abrupt question nearly startled Wilton out of his as-
sumed character. But, having great command, over his fea-
tures, he managed to escape showing any feeling. Wenonn
said nothing more, but sat with folded arms, watching a bout
between Lamont and another emcer. ’

Wilton was ill at ease. He did not know that the chief
had, ever seen his face. To solve his doubts, he went and sat
down at the table near him. and watched the fencing.

“ Where you learn, eh ?” repeated Wenona. “ Lamont
don’t know.” '

“In France—at Calais."

“ ance very large, eh ?" demanded the chief.

“ Very,” said Wilton.

"“ Learn to ﬁght there good,” said the chief. “Wish my
warriors ﬁght with long knife. Get good many warriors
killed with long knife.” \ '

“ Why do you not use the sword in ﬁghting P”

_ " Too late. Used to tomalmwk. Not so good as long
knife, hut Weuoim is very strong. Long arms.” ,

_ e The bout was now ﬁnished, and the two men and the look-
ers-on came’to the tables and began to pound lustin for Joe-
ques. 'l‘hztt worthy mime.

‘ “ Some of my wine,” said Lamont. f‘ D’Arcy pays for it.
I took his foil out of\his hand." ‘

 
The wine um brought, and “thy ﬁlled. Ana: the young ‘

 
.Lr'. K131, . '

 
,
FIRE-WATER. ‘ ‘ “ 58

man next the cnlef had ﬁlled his glass, he pushed the bottle,
over to Wenona, not knowing his character. The chief start»
ed up, with a countenance inﬂamed by rage, and for a moment,

'looked as if he meant to take vengeance on the young man

who had offered him wine. His tomahawk was in his hand,
and he dashed the bottle into fragments at a single blow.

“ Fire-water l” he shouted. “ Kill Indian. ' Hugh l”

After this not he turned on his heel and stalked away. The .
omcers looked at the ruins of the bottle fora moment in some
dismay, until Lamont set a good example by bursting into a
roar of laughter. ‘ , .

,“Ha! ha! Orlando,” said he; " the chief looked as if he
would like to split your head. It will teach you a lesson.
Never oﬂ‘er him a bottle. If you were to do it a second time
he would not spare you.”

“ I did not know that the big, overgrown thief didn't like
wine,” said Orlando, considerably crestfnllcn. . ,

“ Of course you did not, or you would not have offered it.
But, as the wine is gone, I see no course but for you to order
another bottle, since it was through your fault that D’Arcy's
treat was lost. We got one glass out of it. Silence all. I
propose the health of our brave guest and princo of swords—
men, Monsieur Egbert Corneille. To the bottom." ‘

They drank the toast with cheers, and Orlando ordered an-

Iother bottle.

“ Why does the. chief hate the sight of drink 1’"
“ Because he had a brother, a. man nearly as large as him-

'self, who got into a habit of drinking. In less than two

years from the time he'bcgan to drink, he was in his grave.
A bottle was hardly ever out of his hand. He seemed fasci-
nated by the desire to drink. Ever since that time the oﬁ'er
of wine will throw W enona into a fury. He is a noble fel-

- low.”

“ He is indeed,"'added Wilton, heartily. _
" He is a remarkable man in all. respects." said Lamont;

~" a man of undannted courage, of a keen sense of honor. and

full of elilyalrous feelings. which would do honor to any man

of any race."
’ Wilton took lunch with the captain. Alter dinner, they

'wsre outed in the tap-mmmlayin’s a same of  who

 
~ I
"ma srLrtN'r sum

several then entered the room, with a prisoner. ' Wilton, ,en-

' énged in the study of an intricate move, (lid not look up, until

he heard a familiar voice say: '

lf‘ Arminye divil. Kape the baggon'et out av me back, war
ye now i” ‘ , , ’ ‘

He looked up suddenly. There, sitting between two men,
with his hands bound, he saw Mick O’Toole l Their eyes met,
and the wooden stare with which Wilton regarded the prisoner,

convinced Mick that, whatever‘Wilton’s intentions were he did

not wish to he recognized. Mick scratched his rough head in

perplexity, half amused, half in anger. . I

“ Who have you there, boys?” asked Lamont, stopping, with
his hand hovering over a piece he designed to move. ‘

“V A person we caught this side oftthe Chambly, Monsieur
le Capitaine,” replied one of the men, saluting. “ He is no
doubt an English spy.” ,

, ‘ “Spy, my dear sir? What did he have to spy down

there? However, you did right in taking him. He might do

us a mischief." .

“ Arrah, me honey,” said Mick, “spake English, can‘t ye?
Phat the divil d’ye want wid me, at all?
ivery man’s yer iueniy because he don‘t spake the dirthy lan-
guage av ye i”

“ Quite right, my man,” rejoined Lamont, laughing. “ Then .'
I am to understand you consider yourself a friend to France.
Of course you have no objection to ﬁghting her battles. A
man like you must make a. good soldier." .

Mick again scratched his ﬂaming head. He had up desire.
to’enlist in the French army, but he objected strongly to a
lirison, with the chance Of being shot as n spyf He knew
also that the' truce between the French and English was hol-

' I low. and was being broken everyday on both sides, and very
slight reasons would induce them to hang a man found skulk-
ingebout in their country. _ , I ‘ ' r
‘I “ Sure an’ Iniver turned me mind to sogerin‘,"
“ Does ivery man have to be in the

7 here ‘2" I . .

’ “Most of, us," said Lamont, “ and especially those who

come here under suspicious circumstances. We know noth-

 u’l - 0f you, and \you f have your choice. either of going to

said he?
army that lives

, .

Sure, d’ye think ‘

 
...;._ .-..a n .3

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r , M‘ario received them, and as they entered the longaalon Wilton ,‘

 
»\..,/ \

 
'ANEM’ Honors;  p ~60 " —_-

   
prison with a strong chance of hanging as a spy, or joining my ”
company." ' _ ' , .
“ W’u’d ye let me think about it ?" \ “
“ Certainly. You can think about it—in your prison.” / _ .
“ Must I go there, yer ’an’r ?” ' ‘ ' i
“ Unless you make up your mind to join me.” .7
. “ I think there is no choice in the matter. It is far better
to be a soldier than to lie in prison where nobody can aid ’ ‘
you,” said Wilton, speaking for the first time.‘ , L
“ Does yer ’an’r really think so ?” said Mick, with a queer
look. “Then bedad I’ll be a Frinch sojer from this hour.
. Ari-ah, bad luck til it, phat the divil \v’ufd I be nixt? Phare
will I go, yer 'an’r ‘2” ’ ‘ '
"‘I Take him to Lieutenant Courcy," said Lamont. “ Have
his‘name entered. Give him arms and teach him his duty. '
But, I know this of Irishman, they are devils to tight. I want
no better soldiers."
Mick was led away by his captors, who jabbered to him in
French, and gesticnlated wildly, in the vain hope of making
him understand something. He only glared at them in speech-
less wonder,‘and promising in his heart to make the lives of
his comrades such a burden to them that they would be glad
to get rid of him at any price. ‘
J The sudden appearance of Mick complicated matters someu
wliat,and set Wilton to thinking. The blundering, good-na-
tured fellow hnd found a man going to Schenectady ; so he sent
the dispatches by him, and turned back on the trail of his ‘
master. He knew the road well, for they had traversed it to» v
gether. He had renched'the banks of the Chambly in safety, _/
’ when he fell in with a party of Frenchmen and was taken
prisoner. It was done by surprise, or more than‘one of them
would have been laid on the sod. '
Wilton had hoped that the faithful fellow would keep away ~
from Montreal. But here he was, and he must be taken care
of.‘ Wilton saw at once that in prison their chances of aid?
lug him would lie small indeed ; hence his advicevfor his sets
vant to join Lamont’s company. I ‘ _ r
. About four o’clock they Went up to the D‘Arigny mansion. \

   
-.,Iow.thst she was not alone. Captain DtUardin had evidently "

 
a

m 31mm Emmi.

entered at that moment, {or he had not yet relinquished hil

‘lha't,’ He rose at their entrance and was introduced to 'Wll- 1

I .

ton. I
“ It seems we have met b( fore,” said Dujardin.

“ Yes,” replied Wilton. ’“ Have you enjoyed good health
(ace that time t" '

“The best. Ihnve but just come in myself. I thought” I
understood you to say you were not going to Montreal for some
tme." ' -

“Did I say so? I have changed my mind, as you see."

He had vacated a portion of the iong sofn, on which he sat,
for Marie. She pretended not to see it, and took a seat near
Wilton. ‘

“ I have /not told you that Monsieur Egbert aided in saving
me from great danger last night. He blushes, but he
shall not escape. You shall tell the story, Captain Lamont,”
said Marie.

'Lamont, nothing loth, rehearsed the adventure, in spite of

’ the protestations of Wilton that‘it amounted to nothing. Cap-

tain Dujardin did not take the interest in the recital that might

have been expected. His eyes showed anger.
watching every movement of his face.

“By the way, captain,” be said, “ the men who did this

. outrage belonged to your company." ‘

"‘ To mine ?"

“ Every man. I am going to lash them until they give
their motive for the act. They deserve it. Who could have
set them on Y"

“ They will be very likely to tell the truth under such Cir-l

- cumstancas,” sneered the other. , _
“ Always, when the whippcr has an inkling of the truth,
and can tell when they stray too broadly. At any rate, the
experiment shall be tried."

“‘I can not aﬁ'ord to lose any of my men. Do not carry

your experiments too for.“ -
“ You forget the cause.” I ,
“ Hang them or shoot them. Don‘t torture them."
‘1 Theeyes of Lamont began to gleam. He recognized the
* . hand'of Dujardin in the attack on Marie. But, he said no.
30“. ﬁnd when dinner was on the table managed to m

\

Lamont was .

  
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between Dujardin and Marie in such a wayfthat Wilton 'tedher

‘ to dinner, and took the post of honor on her right hand; while
the Look the left. Dujardin, crowded to the foot of the table,

ground his teeth in a rage. « I ‘ ,

“ My brother will soon be here, gentlemen," said the host-
“ Since he has not. come with Captain Du-
‘jardin, he must have some business at head-quarters. That
cannot detain him long." ‘ ‘

Wilton'turned pale. The awful moment had arrived at
Her innocent face was turned toward Captain Dujurdin.
His face was a study. Captain Lamont nevsr removed his
eyes from it. EVery changing passion, love, hate, fear, showed
themselves in his eyes.

“Your brother,” said Dujardin, stammet‘ing; “ I have not
told you of him. Must I tell you now, before these
friends ?” V

“ Stop,” said she, in a hard, strained voice. “ Give me a
moment in which to draw my breath. You commence in an
ominous manner, and I fear you. My brt)therv‘—-you know
how I love him. Then tell me where he is."

Dujardin gasped for breath.

" Tell her," he said. hoarsely. “ I dare not."

, Heroes and rushed from the room. Lamont followed his
Example. Wilton was left/alone with the beautifulgirl. He ,
hdnisen, and stood grasping the back of a chair for sup-

n. ‘.

’0“ You have something to tell me 1’” she gasped. “ Do not 1
keep me .in suspense.”

“ I have something to tell you," replied Wilton. “I would
sooner cutoﬁ‘ my right hand than have it to repeat. Yodr

‘ Is dead l" she cried, in a voice of agony. ‘

‘ He bowed his head. She gave a little gasp and sunk
down. He caught her as she fell and lifted her to/ a sofa.
Her hands were cold. The news had been terriblehalbtost too

' much for nature to bear.

He was chaﬁng her hands, and endeavoring to bring her
back; to life, when the others chntered. Dujardin uttered a

. cry; and ran to/take her into his own care, but Wilton laidhls

hudynpon  7

p

  
' l

 summ- mun.

/

“Back, sirl Would you tomch her new?
dam I"

“I love her,” cried Dujardin, looking. at him
eyes. “ Do not stand in my way.”

I

, safety.”
,Lamont seized him by the
and Wilton bathed her face With water, until he saw some

signs of returning animation. , At last she rose to a sitting ' r

posture. /

“ Tell me about it,” she said, faintly.
now.”

“ Captain Dujardin must tell you.
it than I do: at least, he ought.”

, “ Tell me, Mariot,” shc said.

\ .

“I can «bear it"

He knows more [about

He faltered eat his account of the death of her brother. f
never lifted his eyes '1

Lamont watched him, and sawthat- he
' from the ﬂoor during the recital. ‘ '

“And you left his clear body there? Why did you not
bring it home?” . . '

“ My cousin, how wasthat possible? I was alone", 7
' He lied. He knew that it was easy for him to get the as-
sistance of a score of Indians of the band of Wenona.
, was going on with his tale in the same tone, and again as-
serted that he was alone, when a heavy hand was laid upon
his shoulder. He looked up. The Giant Chief stood beside
him. ‘He had entered by the open door without ceremony,-
and had heard the concluding words of the story.

‘f Let my brother talk with a straight tongue. I was afraid
you Would not tell the whitegirl the story, and I came to
you. You must remember that Wenona said, ‘ Take as many

I

Would”:

 
with 11er 3

. ‘ ‘ ‘1
“If you come nearer, your hfe be on your own head. it
Keep him away, Lam'Ont, or I will not be answerable for his ,

shoulder and pulled him bank, 

   
He'

of my young men as you wish, and carry the body to Mon- j

treal.
knows that he sleeps in the grave of hisr,fathers.’ ”
“Liar l" shouted theinfuriated man, “ you said nothing of
the kind..”/ *
' Wenona. made a single step, and seizing the fellow by the
' “mum”, lifted him from his chair, shakingyhim as a terrier
. shakes s rst.‘ Then for the ﬁrst time the man knewltho

\

His sister’s heart will be sad, but not sore, if she : ’

i
'r
.i

  
\

sauce or run mum.

v r.
|/‘

 
:1 wonderful power in those long arms He shrieked for help, and
, 5‘ the chief d'opped him with a gesture of proud scorn. He
80 ,T was on his feet in a moment, with a knife in his hand. La-
‘ I 'i mont and Wilton seized and disarmed him. » .

m} 5' ' “Let us nail the lies of this man where he st:tnds,"*sald
1“. ‘ .‘Wiltun, “ He has told you that the young man'was shot. I
..~ tell yoﬁ shat he is a liar, black from the pit.” ‘

 
ck“ f “ Let me get at. him,” hissed the villain, struggling.
me , “ Go on,” said Lamont. ‘
mg ‘ i “ In coming down the lake, I landed on the island of which

“i, he speaks. He has told you that he buried the body. Again

1 he lies. He did no such thing. I found it thrust into a hol-

2 low tree. I took it out and buried it on the beach. It is ‘a
m f beautiful place, madctuoiselle. I did not know your brother,

1" but I say to you in honesty that I was as sad in laying him‘
r 1 down to rest. as if I buried there one of my best and dear-
a ‘ l est." I
‘39  _ “Do you tell me that Mariot Dnjartlin left my brotherin .

, that way ?” said the girl, a sort of horror in her tone.

0 7 , “I will swear it, if necessary. Another lie I note here;
He told you that our brother was shot. He was not. He
was stabbed to the heart by a narrow, double-edged knifei",

5' “‘Helies! helies l" cried Dujardiu. “ He was shot. I tell

b r you he was‘shot.”

“ You have said enough, sir. You left him there as he

- fall. I do not accuse you, but I fear you know more of his

r death than you tell. To prove that I saw the body myself,

i ' here I bringyou the relics which I found on him. This ring

1

3 .

r .

I

‘ob't'

for money. I'Iis purse was in his pocket. There it is. His

sword I buried with him. And from his neck I took this
' miniature, which is that of his sister.”
1 She took them eagerly, kissing them again and again.
‘ There was a spot of bleed upon the purse. ' She left it there,
and approached Dujardin with ﬂaming eyes. Every one was
appalled by the expression of that young face. A sort of
have light had come into it, and then a strange glory over it.

I took from his ﬁnger, which shows that he was not killed

.14.,

.7 “5.5.x,

 
\

  
CHAPTER VIII.
m CASTLE GUARD.

have come in me with falsehoods in your mouth, from me
dead body of my brother.
lain. I know you are not a coward, to ﬂy and leave him to
‘his. fate because you feared to share it. You must» be 9. vii-
lain; Tell me, and at once, who shed this costly blood '1’”
He was tongue-tied.
him. I .
“ Speak i" said Wenona,in, a voice of thunder. “ Why do
you not answer the words of my daughter ‘8”
' “ How can I tell,” said Dujnrdin, sullenly. “ Beware what
«you do, Marie D’Arigny. Do not humble me before those
who hate me."

his belt, “ or I will kill you.”
“No bloodshed, chief,” said Lamont; “ You‘must‘ promise
me that." ‘
“ Let him speak, then.» Why does he keep his tongue
between his teeth?
twice." . .
“ Answer, if you have any answer to make," said Lamont.
.. “ The chief will be as good as his word.”
“ He can not frighten me,” replied Dujardin. “ But I have
given my answer. I ' do not know how he died. Ixonly
. know that he fell dead at my side, killed'hy a riﬂe-ball."
"(You persist in that statement ?"
‘I Yes."
I ’ “ Against the word of my young friend i"
" Your young friend lies l"
Wilton made a movement toward him, but the
‘ hsnd upon his arm.
“Do not resent his insults now, monsieur.

girl'lsid o
I have but

:

“Mater D'OJARDIN," she said, in a hollow voice,-“you V

Either you are a coward or :1 vii- ‘ ’

~ui§r§ﬁ

 
“ Do not threaten," said Wenons, taking his hatchet tom "

Wenona does not say his words ‘

‘ \3iiinood at this book which is my dear brother’s diary, and ' ‘

  
The expression of her face terriﬁed 

 
JUSTICE. " ' I ~11

here I ﬁnd the clue to this deed. 'You killed my What,

Mariot Dujardin." ' _

u I ?11 \ ‘ \

“ You. Who else could have done it? There was no one
near. You say yourself th/nt when he fell you ran around
the island and searched for the murderer. And you did this > ~
'i' for the love of me, because he opposed you. Villain! did ‘
you think the way to my love was through my brother’s
blood ?" ’

He-was silent now. Wenona stepped forward.

“My daughter has a head ﬁt to make her the wife of a
war-chief,” he said. “ She has said the right thing. If this
man had not something to conceal, he would have brought
the body home. He is a liar; he killed the young war-chief
whom I loved. And now Wenona will kill him.” ‘

 
f Again he lifted the tomahawk, and again the others stopped
him.

at  “ No, no, Wenona; you must not take the law into your

55‘ ' own hands in that way. The head men of the city shall

, decide. We have no proof unless we get the body, I am
1.  afraid.” ,
’ “Release me i" said Dujardin, angrily. “Why do you

a \ hold me? By heaven, every man of you shall rue this
’ day.” , V .

e ' > ' “ He must not be allowed to escape,” said Marie. “ I de.

I l -‘ mand justice for my murdered brother. That justice I will

have, if I go to the foot of the throne to ﬁnd it."

-. . “ You think to frighten me by your absurd accusations," V

' ; ' said the man, angrily. “ You shall not do it. If I love i

r you, Marie D’Arigny, it is not my fault. Blame, rather, your

beauty." r .

, “ Flattery at such an hour as this, Mariot Dujardin ? Be-

ware lest I take the law into my-own hands and kill you. I

am only a weak woman, but for all that I loved my brother

won." . h
9‘ I loved him too.” . r

. “ You hated him, because he would not use his inﬂuence

1 to make you his brother-in-law. You quarreled with him
before you went; you quarreled one: it.” a , .
“ I did not.” .

 
\
THE SILENT SLAYER.

 
.‘ “\A voice. from the grave accuses you. Here axle the Words, 1
in the dear hand which lies under the sod now. Before you,*; $1,"
speak again, think that you are giving death the lie.” .I 1_s'
“We might have had some words. Release me. I de—i hm
'. i mand it as my right. If you have any charge to bringiifor,
“ against me, let me hear it, or bring the charges 'before 11,1331, In.“
' ’ justice.” ‘ ‘ P $1“:

With these Words he suddenly wrenched himself out of the 7
f a [grasp of Lamont and ran out of the room, and Lamontw, t}?
' stopped the pursuit. , . ' 0'
“N0, chief; no, Egbert;‘ it is useless. What-we do must .‘ m:
be done according to law.” i  ‘
i" The moment the villain was gone, Marie drooped again. ‘ n:
An unnatural strength had supported her up to this. She } a‘
I _ Wept for her brother, calling him by every tender word of 5 da
endearment her lips had known from childhood to this 2, 1“
hour. , hi

The men bent over her. 5.
“Ay. let him go," said the young American. “But,  2
when we meet again, he shall he called to a strict account." ‘ c]

'r The chief clenched his tomalmwk hard. i
“ The men of St. Regis hate a snake in the grass. The V a]
double-tongue is one. He has come to Wenona with smooth v

' words, when his heart is full of bitterness. Wenona will take.

his scalp 1” - . ‘ u
“ What shall our plan be ?” asked Lamont. “I have an I
invitation here to a party at the castle for you and myself. ‘
‘ He will be there. Shall we go and denounce him ?” v .t a
“I have no heart for gayety, said Wilton. “ But I will“  '
g0.” ' - h v

“ I will go too,” said the girl, rousing herself. “ Igive my- 

“if no rest until this villain has received the reward which is
justly due to treachery. But, how can.I join in the gaycty 
with a. breaking heart?” 4 r 
“ You need not,” said Wilton, eagerly. “ Excuse yourself .
from dancing. 3 will not be long before we shall expow

him." . ,

‘ “I must be there. ,Leave me alone for a few hours. It
’ is a and ending to a: day which I thought would be Very
’, . new-'7 ’ a a v!

  
-_;.t,,,_,» <. ..

\

    
I
l I

  
\‘n _
x, ' \

  
A sunnnn oxsmuen'r. I ’03

rd“ ‘ The three went out together. Wiltomexcused Lime}! ,at/

‘Vou, the door, promising to meet them in an hour at the Fleur de

’4 Lis. He hurried up to the house of Despard, and told him .

de_l brieﬂy what had,happened, and that an entrance to the house,

in \for him at least, was secured. Despard showed little sym-

“(‘1 pathy fzr the unfortunate young Frenchman, but hailed the

‘ I (ﬁnance of getting into the castle.

the  “ All you have to do, when the festivity is at its hight, is

-= to come to the south door of the castle and see that it is open. ’
I Leave the rest to me. I know that the Governor and leading
18, L men have made this party simply‘as a cover to their meeting,

“It 'which will take place while waiting for the other guests to ar—
im 1 fire. Go early and get the door open. There shall be guests
he i at the feast they do not expect.” ,

)f  Wilton left him, and hurried down the street. It was now

dark, and a dangerous part of the town. The young man

hurried on, forgetting this, until several ﬁgures darted upon
him from various points. They had come from a house near

t , ' at hand, and a broad gleam of light, streaming from the door,

',,' fell upon their faces. The foremost was Dujardin, the rest his l

creatures. ; '

“New, dog that you are, hissed Dujardin, “ you at least
,1 shall never live to tell 'your tale again. Down with the black
villain, boys.” ' ,

They came at him, sword in hand, and, before he had time
tothink, he was engaged in the third desperate struggle since
, he left the banks of Champlain. Leaping back, he got the
wall of a house in his rear, and faced them boldly. Yet, for
"1/ ' amoment, even his bold heart sunk, for what could he do
, against so. many, and all 'of them men who lived by the sword?

' ‘ The feeling only lasted a moment, and then—

lu'Coumge!” he muttered. “Trust in God and your good

Sword.”

1 ,For three minutes nothing was heard but the rattle of steel,

' as three of them attacked him at once.- But, such’was his '
Wonderful address with his weapon that he managed to wound
‘One of his foes severely, while at the some time he kepthis'owu , '

I nelson secure. The wounded man drew oil" and left the next

When to take his place. Carts and counter-cane, was the,‘

motto. 'The wrist of the undaunted young man worked'with '

  
int 

M l

 
/

 
TEL \SXLEM ‘ sum

the regularity of a. machine. Another of the assailants was
wounded in the sword-arm, and was of little use.’ As he fell

  
with his noble ﬁgure and heart, with the wily and dangerous
man who had just tied, and thinking how much the man of

   
back, he gave a shrill whistle, and the young hero saw two 3
more men emerge from the open (1001'. As he despairineg ' able
made up his mind to die ﬁghting. there came it sudden rush. Wm
and a huge form burst through the line of his assailants and aw,
.stood by his side. It was the Giant Chief In one hand he gm
held a long knife, already reddened by the‘hlood of‘one of the no
ruﬁlans, and in the other a tomahaw k. _ , mt
“ Too many on one i” he shouted. “ Ah, but St. I w“
Basis 1” rm
As he shouted this battle-cry, he thrust his knife through 1 W
the shoulder of one of the assailants, and cut down another W
with his tomahawk. The fearful left hand was also doing w
good work. The villains, tired of fair ﬁght ﬁrst, now run, ‘
leaving Dujn‘rdin alone. He saw this, and freeing his-blade h,
(tour that of Wilton by a sudden jerk, he run into the house;
' closing and locking the door behind him. _ t .u
" Hurt i" asked the chief, thrusting his bloody weapons into ,, j
his belt as he spoke. . a
“ Not at all," replied Wilton. “ A little tired. I had too 1 t;
many at me at once.” ‘ ' ‘ f c
“ Cowords 1" said Wenona. “ No braves come so many at ,
one man. Bad heart; bad man.” I . ‘
Wilton could not. help contrasting this untutored savage,  ‘ ‘
,l
l

civilization and reﬁnement suffered by the comparison. There
was no time to waste, hoWever, for the captain might per-
suade his men to return. 80 they walked swiftly away to-
gether. A
“How did you happen to come to my and i” said Wilton.
" You were just in time.” ‘ \
“ Wenona does not like to stay in the big Wigwam. The
' 'ftee uirof night is'better for him. As he walkedt-the path
he heard the sound of the long-knives. Wenona loves the '
[sound of the bottle. He is very glnd to aid his young brother,
who came to his help one time. We are now even.” , .
““I‘hank you, at any rate. My danger Was mam use
yours, for I think you would have whipped your party alone.

 
I6!

Lie

_' “ phi: and ﬂaming hairof Mick O’Toole! The man evident}!

 
loin not. take a. man in hand and whip the ground with hiin‘
as you can." ‘ ~ ‘ ~ *
“ Wenona is very strong." replied the savnge, with portion-
able pride. “, Here is the big wigwnm where they drink ﬁre—
wnter. Wenonn hates it. He does not love men who give it
away for wampum. Wenona had a brother once, who was
strong as a buﬂ‘alo; he tasted the ﬁre-water; his heart was
no longer brave. ' But Wenona loved him, and tried to bring
' him back to his’people. His heart was turned to water. He
was always in Montreal, drink, drink, drink, till he drown his
life. Does my young hrother wonder that the chief ‘hates the
. aceursed stuﬁ'? One by one his people are passing away. We
Were many, we were strong, but a stronger than we has been at
work, and lo, we are undone l” ' /
“ Will you not go in ‘2" asked Wilton, kindly, laying his
hand upon the arm of the chief. '
“ No,” replied Wenona. “ It is not just that I should gotOo

  
 "much to a place where ﬁre-waiter killed my brother.”

I With these words he drew his blanket about him proudly -
and strode away. Lamont, hearing their voices, came out of
the tavern, and the two started for the castle. They were wel-
comed by the Governor’s nephew, whom Wilton had already
met at the tavern, and shown to 11 room where they removed
their hats and cloaks. When this was done, the nephew
' apologized to Wilton for leaving him alone, as the oﬂicers
were having some ofﬁcial business to attend to, which would
be over in an honr. He took him into the picture-gallery, ,
ordered in some wine and fruit, and left him to his own de-
vices. This was what the young man most desired, and he
took advantage of it. The moment their steps een‘sed to sound
in the halls he slipped out, and hurried down the passage to
the south door, which he was told by Despnrd was seldom
used: He found the key in the lock, and turning it, found
'himselt‘in the garden. ' 1
A sentry was pacing up and down not far from the door.
He wasnbout to close the door and return, when something in
the manner of the sentry‘nttraeted his attention. He looked
_ at him more closely, and, as he did so, the face was suddenly
turned toward him in the moonlight, and he saw the comical

\

 
'u  " Iran sum mm
179.! but little’ pleased with his present situation. ‘ A glance at ‘
his misanthmpic visage was enough to show that, and Wilton -
uttered a low laugh. Mick rushed at him in anger, but an ex- , *
pression‘of intense joy came into his face when he saw who r
it was. '
“Is it you, Masther Wilton ?" he said. “ Ah, the divil ﬂy 
~ away wid everybody thin, now I’ve seen yer dear face wnnst '

loves.”
“ Hush, Mick," whispered Wilton. “ There is danger in
every breeze.” / '
“I’In dumb as a drum widout u sheepskin,” said Mick.
“ Come closer.” ~ ,

' Wilton did so, and Mick gave his hand a squeeze which ‘
broughttears to his eyes, which were not altogether tears of ,.
feeling.

“ There, that will do; How long do you stand guard
here 1’"

“ All night."

“ Good. You know Despnrd 1’"
' “ I ought.”

*‘ He will be here before long.”

“ All right."

“ You are to let him in."

“ Til the door 1’”

“ Of course. I, shall be there." ‘

. “ It takes you to pull the wool over the eyes av thebla'
guards,” said Mick. “ How ye do it, blame me if I know.
D’ they think ye a Frenchman 1’” ‘

I ‘ “ I’m as good a Frenchman as the best, or I should not be
in the Governor’s house to-uight. , You know my French ll
the genuine article. But, I must not be seen talking with
you. Good-night.” '

“ When“ will I see ye ag‘in, Masther Wilton ?" .

, " [can not say. I am good friends with your captain, and
he will take me where I can see you when I wish. \ How do

I you $612 on with your comrades ?” ° ‘

, “Masha, it’s little I have to‘say til them beyant glVin" '_ y

, themx a tap in the heid, now en’ thin, to t’ach them to be V

 
more. Arrah, whillabool murther, but phat w’u’d apoor .'
boy do whin he can niver see the face xiv/the masther he ‘, \

 
00 II
ilton
1 ex- \
who

lﬂy‘

unst
)oor

he‘L
'in

ck.

I

  
melt or: ovum.

\

civil. I b'uted wan big chap no longer ago than yistcrday,
'7 d’ 'e mind i’" '

“ You must not quarrel."

M D’ye call that quarrelin’ ? Sure, whin I quarrel it manes
something. Whin I quarrel, I quarrel to kill.”
7 At. this moment a man crept cautiously up to within a few
' feet of them, and laid down behind a bush.
“‘ Then good-night once more. I shall not forget your
, faithful conduct. in following me here, and when I go, I shall
ﬁnd means to take you with me.”

 
.ch )4
of ‘

rd.

 
CHAPTER IX.
THE museum PLAN.

' I
Wurrox reemered the house and closed the door, taking
.gwny the key, fearing that some one might lock it. He had
hardly done so, when the person who lay in the shadow of
the hush crept cautiously mvayﬂtnd leaped the fence in front
of Nick, paying no attention to his challenge. That worthy,
thinking if he wereungcntlemanly enough to refuse to answer,
he would not be the man to run after him, betook himself to
his heat again, muttering invectives on the heads of all
“Frinchm‘en,” and blessings on his “young masthcr,” whom
’he loved with blind idolatry.

“ W’u’d any one believe that Mick O‘Toole w’u‘d wear the
clo'ee' ‘of a ‘ Frinch’ sojer, an’ ‘let himself down to the com-
pany av a lot av (lirtliy,'frog-'atii1’ bla'guards? Not a bit.
Sowl av me body! but it‘s me ould Inither w’u’d cry the eyes
out av her to hear it.”

As he paced his heat, Despard crossed the fence and walked
towardshim. llis orders were to challenge everybody, and

he lowered his bayonet and brought his friend to n. halt,
,, . “ Is that you, Mick ?”

. 5‘ Sure, it is.
’ ' River mind the word."

\ .

And- this is Monseer’Despard? Go 

/

   
/ .

 
l

    
I ,

'rm: awrmm

\ . ,
l

“ You may as well give it to me," said Desptu'd. " I might
'want to use it." » r ‘

Mick gave him the word, which was “ vigilance,” and Des-
pard passed on. He found the halls clear, and leaving the
mnin hall, he ascended a side stairs toward the upper part of

~ the house. A servant~maid, dressed in the style peculiar to
French girls, met him on the stairs. She started, and nearly
dropped the/candle. .

'. “ Despard i What are you doing here?”

“Never mind, Jeannette. Go on about your business, and
see that you do not blab of my presence in the servants‘ ball.
If you do, woe be unto you.” ’

“ I .am not afraid of you," said the girl, contemptuously.

' “ I will go to my master." ‘ x
“ No, you will not, ma petite." ,
“ And why not ?” she asked, in the same tone.
“Because—” He stooped and whispered the rest of the
Ientence in her ear. ’ _ . V

Despurd was, in his way, a wonderful man. Had he lived
in our day, he would have made a ﬁrst-class detective. His
very instincts and inclinations ran that way. He made it a
point to know all the peccadilloes oi‘ the servants of families
from whom he would be likely to get inibrmation. Whatever

_ the ocial crime of which mademoiselle had been guilty, it
\touched her. though what it Was is immaterial to us. It is
enough thatrshe was appalled, and dropped the candlein earn-
est. But Despard caught it. ‘ ' '
“ How now? Do you think you have any thing to say to
your master ‘2"
'“ No, no, monsieur.” ‘
“ If so, go and tell in"
“ I was joking, Monsieur Despard. Can you not take a
joke '1’" she replied.
“ Yes," he said, grimly—“ or make one.
'leiwants near the study of the Governor?”
" No, monsieur.”
“ Very good. Am I in danger of falling
 entering the small room next to it i”
“ No. monsieur,_unless Jules is there.”
“ What does that room contain 1”

Are there any

incwith any the

  
’3

c_4_.nnr-'

 
the
of

ﬂy

1d

H. ‘:

..--u‘.b

  
lit from the out’ to the inside. and locked the door.
_now hear the hum of voices in the next room, und‘ moved
_with great care.

 
- , A A “sea rumor.

“ Rubbish of all kinds, mousieur, and old wineobottles."

“ I see you are not deceiving me. Now go; and if I hear
any thing of this—~-rememher i"

There was some covert threat in this which cowed the girl,
for she desecnded the stairway with drooping head, holding
by the halustrade with an unsteady hand." Dcspurd looked.
after her gravely. and taking off his boots, heput on a pair
of list slippers before going any further. As he did so, a
man came up the servants’ stairs. It was the Governor’s va-
let. ' He saw Dcspnrd, and came forward. Evidently he
knew the man. for he called him by name.

“ You intrude here then. monsieur? You must go back,”
said the servant. .

“ Ah 1’"

“ Or I shall call my master.”

“ Don’t. do it, J ules."

“ I/shall, and immediately."

'. *‘ Can I not prevail upon you to change your mind? Let
me whisper.”

He did so, and the countenance of Monsieur Jules turned
purple with fear and rage.

“ Do not speak of it. How came you to know that '2” ,

“ I know many other things connected with your‘personal
history. Par exumple—"
He whispered again.

seared by a hot iron.

“You will say nothing more to me, but go down-stairs, and

Jules sprung from the ﬂoor as if

‘ do not come up again unless your master calls."

The man obeyed without a word of demur.
“Umphl” muttered Despard. “He won’t trouble me.
What a thing it is to hold a few secrets of this kind! It

saves a world of bother."

"Walking carefully down the hall, he opened a door leading
into a small room. The key was in the lock. He removed
He could ‘

The room had been used as a buth-r's pan~
try, and there was a small sliding door, or rather imp-hole.
In the partition leading into the next room. The sci-Vants- ‘—

socidentully of course—had left. this slightly ajar. .Deapatl \

,\_, , - / \

 
do more.

.‘ x I. A  ‘ r V, r W I

THE SILENT, SLAYER.

V seated himself on an old table which stood in the room, arid
He had a good view of the room, . '

peeped through the crack.

Half a dozen French ofﬁcers, of various degrees of rank, ‘

were seated about a table, within reach of the opening. , The
Governor was nearest the window, and us Despnrd looked in.
was talking in a low but eager tone.

“ Yes, my friends, the glory of France m’ust not bodimtned.
There is not one among“ us who has not that glory at heart.
We are all praying for the time to come when the lilies~ shall
bloom above the thistle and shamrock. In this country, ,we
must 'be true to our ﬂag as we were when we dwelt in La
Belle France.” . ‘

"-We must indeed,” said Lamont. “ It is in our power to
This great land has initselt‘ the germ of a nation
greater than France, for from it we can erase the fallacies
which injure France to—day."

“It is true, mon ami,” said the Governor; “I have had
dreams of such a la’nd. \Ve shall not live to see it, but our
children’s children may. A country which shall have no
bounds but the two oceans on the east and west, the arctic
regions, and the Gulf on the south. Vive L‘Alnerimtl But,
to our plan. If we make France great in this quarter of the
globe, we must ﬁrst dispossoss the English.
nary task. We must not undervalue the tremendous resources
of England. Nothing but these and the provincials have

[saved them from utter annihilation.” ‘

“ It ‘is the provincials who have done the roost," said La-
mont. “ But for the provincial colonel they call Washing-
ton, the men of Braddock would have been entirely cut 05.
Such men as Putnam, Warner, Seely, and a host of others I
might name, do us more real harrirtlian the English regulars,
although the latter will not admit it.” '

" What is your opinion, chief?” asked the Governor. turn-

ing to Wenona, who sat a little apart“ “ Which are the pest

ﬁghters—the red or the green-coats ‘3” , ,

“Greemcmts best \to tight in the woods," said Wenona
Know how be'tibr.”
' ‘f The chief ought to know,” said Lamont.
(ought them often enough. For that anatter, so have I.
aw “‘3'. Where is Dujerdin 7" / - ,

«

Byv

'1

This is no ordi- .

“He hat I;

 
FFEA

' I

" ,iurn it without delay."

. 'Will succeed admirably in a. eminent.

‘1'
I

GOKFUSKON. ~‘ '1!“

L

“ He was invited here. I am surprised that he‘ has not 'ar~
rived.” " V .
I, “ No good man,“ said Wenona. " Double tongue."
',, “The chief has no liking for Dujardin, it is plain to be
seen,” said the Governor. “ Let it pass. I shall reprimand
him severely for not appearing at the council. Attention; I‘
have drawn up on this paper a plan of our proposed work «
' this season. Here are Oswego, William Henry and Edward.
I All these places must full.” .
They bent over the paper, and the Governor gave a succinct '
réaumé of the proposed work. The ofﬁcers haznrded opinions
as points arose where they Could offer them. Little did
they dream that the keen ears of 'Despard drank in every '
' Word they said,‘ and was treasuring them up to their hurt.
It was an opportunity he had long thirsted for.
“ Any thing to injure France." ‘
This was his motto, and he carried it out through life. To '
hide and seek,-to get information by any and every means,
and convey it to the English, was the object of his life.
‘ Fortune favored him in a way he had not dreamed of.
‘ ‘ The Governor, stretching out his hand to get something on
’/the other side of the table, upset the lamp.

hmp was relighted. \ 7

“Now—” the Governor began. Then he paused and '
lacked from face to face. “Which of you has done this?
17w plan Z”

All looked at the table with rt’ blank stare of confusion. 
The plan, on which the campaign depended, was gone i ‘

The Governor looked sternly from one to another. He evi-
dently suspected a trick.

“ I beg yo‘nr pardon, gentlemen, but is this a time to jest
39d daily? The one who has removed the'plan will please ro-r

Every one indignantly tiisclaimed having touched it.
'yGentlemen. if it is your desire to put me in a rage, you
1 can not endure this
~ “ﬁling. , Where is the plan 7" '

"I know nothing' about it,"

said Lamont “ It llIy mm
When the lump went out." - ‘ .

\

 
‘ Ina ‘moment'the .. .
r I"mm was dark. Confusion followed, and after some delay the

 
.V, I ,
.n . TEIIXLEMBLLTIB.

‘ “I felt a band pass near me as 4. stooped for the lamp. It

is impossible, as you all know, for the paper to walk out ':

through a locked door and solid walls. If it were not for this
I should not think one of my odioers capable of such a trick.

I can hardly belieVe it now. But a man can not doubt the 1 -

evidence of his senses. Where is the ,plan 1’”
. “ It must be on the ﬂoor.” . I , ~
\ Every one began to hunt for the paper in desperate haste.
It is needless to state that nobody found it.
“It touches me to the heart to say it," said the Governor
“ but every one must be searched." r
“ Will you not take our word of honor, Governor l’" said
Lamont. , ‘ 
“ What can I think, Lamont? You see‘the position. in
I ,which I am placed. If that paper gets to the English all our
plans must be entirely changed—you can see that. You can
alsosee that the paper can not have gone out of the mom.
Good heavens! What a situation for a man of honorl
There is no man among you that I have the least reasonto,
suspect of being any thing but a true man, and yet, whatycan
I say 9”
“ Search me ﬁrst,” said Lamont.

But, before the, Governor had extended a hand, all eyes I

Were directed to the chief. He had risen suddenly, and, cross-.
ing the roomjo the place where the Governor sat, he caught '
up the light and began to examine the wall.
soon detected the sliding door.

“ There I" he said. It was open.

The Governor understood his signal, and suddenly seizing
his sword, darted to the door and unlocked it. Two or three
of the omcers followed him. On opening the door, they saw
get he was making for the next room. The door was locked

8 opened it by a tremendous kick and rushed in. Lamont
followed with the lamp.

The room was empty. -

., ' “ You were wrong, chief,” said the Governor, sadly.
' “ Not, wrong; rlglll.” said Wenona. ‘5 See, this." 7

He pointed to the dust upon the table.
primal, they saw the outline of a man‘s hand.
“Th5 may be an old mark," said the Governor.

 
His quick eye ‘

There. plainly in 

   
fr:

ht ‘1
Y9 1'

ng.

    
‘ « “ The plan is gone," gasped the Governor.

 
fNot old; now,” said Wenona. ’ ‘
“Trust the chief in this, your excellency," said Lamont

‘“ Even I am good enough at reading signs to know that this

mark was recently made. ‘ "l‘here has been a man here wlthin
the hour. Who it was isa matter of doubt; which way he
went, we can not determine. Certain it is, he is gone; and '
with him the plan."

1 The Governor made a movement to rush frantically aﬂel
him. But Lamont held him.

“ It is useless, your excellency. Whoever it is, he has. had
plenty of time to elude us while you were accusing your own
oﬁicers' of the critne. I do not blame you. It looked'
mysterious at ﬁrst sight. I should have done as you did my-
wiﬂ"

“ What shall
we do i"

“ Change the plan. That is the only way; Let us 'go
down. The guests are arriving and expect you. And I have
left a friend alone all this time. Remember, gentlemen, nota
word of this." ‘

‘ “ You hear," said the Governor. “ Keep it secret. Not a
guest must know how we have been duped. Ah, if I had that
man, how pleasant it would he to take him out and hang, him

. to-morrmv.”

7“ You may yet have the opportunity," said Lamont. \

“ May the time come soon. How quickly the rascal took
advantage of the light going out i” >

“ He was indeed prompt. Shall we go down i"

“ Yes ; and remember, let no many, know by our hon
that We have been fool "

  
\ r

‘ l

C H A P T E R X .
’ Ame NETTED LION.

THE gentlemen entered the salon in good time. Quite o "
party of civilians had gathered, and were grouped about the
vmom at various points,‘conversing. Two young ofﬁcers had ‘

cornered Wilton and were afﬂicting him with an account of

their personal conquests. The ladies had not yet come dotvn

from the dressing—rooms. A chattering like a bevy of mag-

pics on the stairs, however, announced that they were on the

wing,‘ and directly they began to drop into the salon in couples, r
dressed in the bewitching way which only a. Frenchwoman can

know. Frenchwomen have the reputation, among many, of

being, as a race, more beautiful than the English and Ameri-

can ladies. They are fnr from that, but they know how to set
off their beauties to the best advantage.

Marie came down alone, and seated herself apart. Wilton
shook off the human burrs who clung to him, and went to
her where she sat. '

' “ Your sorrow is great,” he said;
It to preyrupon you too deeply.”

“My sorrow could not be greater,” she said. “ Have I not
lost all who love me ?"

“You have many friends." i

“ What is their tame love to that I have lost?" she cried.
“ He was happier with me than with any other woman, though
I was his sister. Love! Do I value the ﬂuttering of insects
like these? They can not even bring a blush to my cheek.
But, Vaudeleur, my darling brother, I shall never see him
.morc.” .. ‘ I ‘

“I do not ask you to forget what he has been to you,
and what he has done for you,” said WiltOn. “ You could not

“ but you must not allow

‘ do’that. But the day will come‘when you will think of him
~ as tap/memory of your youth—'—one of the sweetest and
~ .deazéest." ,  , , / t '
_ v‘ 1, ’ .~ WAt this moment Lamont came up ‘

\ “ V I \
\
3

 
n

. . “Thanks,captain, for myself and my dear brother,”

I x of Captain Dujardin;

\ ,
A SPY AND TBAITOR.‘

. 7Q
“ I am oome'by/the GOVernor’s request, to present you to
him," he said. “ Courage, Marie. The villain shall get his
 due.” ' " , .
she
' said. “ Come-back to me, Monsieur Egbert ; you will serve to
keep this host of May ﬂies at bay. I can noi endure them to-
night.” .
Wilton felt a thrill as she thus singled him out from among
those she had known for years. He was conscious that this
beautiful girl already had an inﬂuence over him which he could
not understand. He would know better what it was before
many days. ’ y .
The Governor received him kindly. As he extended his hand
a harsh voice cried : '
“ Hold, monsieurl
traitor l" ‘ I
All turned in the direction of the sound. There in the door»
way stood Captain Dujardin, fully armed, his face wearing an
expression of triumphant malice, glaring at Wilton.
“ Monsieur le Capitaine," said the Governor, astonished, “ ,I
do not understand you." ' I
“ He is a spy,” repeated Dujardin. “ He is here, with a con-
_ federate, to ruin the cause of France.”
‘ “Monsieur,” said the’ Governor, “ you

Touch not the hand of a spy and

hear the accusation
Clear yourself if you can."

\ Wilton had drawn his sword, and stood looking Dujardin
in the face. He. saw that, by some means unknown to him,»
the villain knew his errand. , I A "
i x " Defend yourself, Egbert," said Lamont. “ For heaven’s
sake, let' me hear you speak. It can not be true that you are.

 n'spy.” . ~
-' , “Let him deny it if he can," said Dujardin, insolently

“ I overheard him this night talking to an accomplice of his
"guilt—the Irishman who is a member of Captain Lamont’l
company, and who is now on guard.”
“ eny it, Egbert," said Lamont. “ Give him the lie in his
m." ‘

, ‘,‘» t‘I'I‘hat 1* am an Englishman,” said Wilton, “I will not

' deny. That I came at 'this time solely to gain information

 imfalse. \ I came on an errand of mercy and justice. I came

 
75 ’ m stutm' SLAYER.

» tonnmuk one of-the foulest villains who ever cursed the
earth." _

The Frenchman laughed scornt‘ully; he had his victim in

; thetoils. . 4
“ Seize him i” cried the Governor.
They rushed at him together.

Wilton threw himself back to the wall, and for a motnen

foiled the united attack of his enemies. Lumont’ stood with

folded arms, his countenance expressing more sorrow than 

anger at the discovery.

“ A heaven-born swordsman,” he muttered.
Pity 1". -

Some of the assailants got within his blade, and wrenched
it from his hand. With two men holding each arm, and
.two pushing behind, he was dragged to the middle of the
room.

“ Search him i" said the Governor.

“ What a

They searched, and found nothing on him suspicious ex-
cept a strangely-slmped instrument, in three pieces, which was '

in the pocket of his coat. The Governor looked at it enri-
ousl’y. and ﬁnding a thread on the pieces, he screwedthetn
together carelessly.

“Take care,” said Wilton, “it is leaded. You may get
hurt.” '

“ Loaded i” cried a chorus of voices.
waikingstick."

“ It is a gun," said Wilton.

I “ A gun i” ,

“ It is nothing but a

“Certainly. Since you have lt,'let me explain its use. 

At thirty yards it is very eﬂ'ective.”

“ You will'muke no attempt to escape I"

' “I give you my honor,” he replied.

“ Release him,” said the Governor.
The men obeyed. Wilton took the pieces and ﬁtted them
> rightly. This done, he stepped to the open window, and
planted ﬁve or six balls within an inch of each other'in the
trunk of a. tree which stood about twenty yards away: The
hdies stopped their ears, expecting a report. None cnme,
And they thought the gun had missed ﬁre.

x,, .
e .\ * I /'

/

is“
"T ’ t

The ladies screamed as f ’ ‘

 
As all were look-r
in: in amazement st the. strange instrument, Wilton {alt l,

 
 f “M I 1 ' m AOCUSA'HON. " ’

I

   
I them then.

, V t , \

hand laid upon his shoulder. He turned; it was the chief. l

A strange light showed itself in his eyes. I

“ Silent Sinyer ?” he said, in nu inquiring tone.

The young man drew himself up proudly, nnd answered,
“ Yes l" '

' A perfect yell of surprise and delight broke from the
Frenchmen. The indies crowded nearer to see him. Stored
at like some wild beast, he folded his arms and looked sternly

- in their faces.

7 They had caught him at last, the man who had given them
so much trouble! He had put himself in their hands at a
time when they could tuke his life with a pretext of law.

“ Ay, stare at me, ye minions of France,” he cried. “ You
have taken me by fraud—by the treuchery of thut mun. , Ay,
gaze at me; I have seen u. better show of faces in my time.
I have this to be proud of : it was through no sharpness of
your own you caught me, but through the hole of yonder
crawling snake, who has good cause to hate me, murderer
that he‘is.”

“rMurderer !" \

4 “ Yes. I will denouncehim.

’ of his friend, Ensign D‘Arigny.”

“ And I stand here to say that he speaks truth,” said La-

,mont. '

“And so do I,” said Marie, rising suddenly. “Murderer
of your friend, does not the knowledge of your guilt weigh
down your guilty soul? In the sorrowful night, have you
" never seen his sud, accusing fuce ?”

— "_ Let me speak," said the Governor.

that D‘Arigny is dead ?”

“ I do; and Dujnrdin assassinated him,” said Lamont.

“ Liar l" shouted Dujnrdin, lifting his hand to strike. But,
before he could do it, the hand of Lamont struck“ him down.

"I‘he presence of the Governor, of the indies, was nothing to

Dujardin rose, foaming, and dashed u cnrd at

the feet of Lamont, Who pickch it up with a smile of deri-

“041. '

Yonder stands the murderer

“Do you tell me

indies."

" “ I remember. inonsieur‘ I have done for the mesons?

\

“Gentlemen, remember that you stand in the presence of

 
Inn SILENT shuns.

I ‘ ~ ‘ y‘ I ' I
" Int lesst'have the right to speak,” said Dnjardin. “VIA!

' me tell my story. I was sitting near D’Arigny, on the island
'where he was killed, when he suddenly fell, struck to’ the
[heart by a ball. When I stopped’ to look at him he was
(lead. I buried him there.”
' “ It'is false," said Wilton.
lace.

“ You thrust him into a hollow

I buried him myself.” _
“I am coming to that,” said the other, viciously. “ I said
that he fell, struck by a ball. No report followed it. I take

it for granted he was killed by yonder Englishman, with the
devilish instrument he holds in his hand.” '

Wilton could not help it, but he felt the blood rush to his»
cheeks at this accusation. \ y
“ See the guilty blood come into his cheeks, and receding,
leave them pale,” said Dujardin. “ I have other proof. He
had in his possession the ring, chain, watch and purse of my
unfortunate friend. Who else should have them but the man

who killed him ?" .

“ Listen to me, Dujardin," said the young man, dropping _’
his voice almost to a whisper. “ Let me tell you this: if I
ever escape from this, I will kill you for that lie." ’

“ You will never escape,” said the other, with s. laugh full ,

of savage glee. " I will see to that.”
“ You are a ﬁend,” said Marie. “ Bear in mind that I hate
you more than any earthly thing.” ' i
“ Remove the prisoner,” said the Governor. “ Captain, is
l the Irishman secured ?"
“ He is, your excellency.” _
“ See them put in a strong place. . The commission to de-
termine on their fate shall meet to-morrow.” ‘
The captain called in his guard and marched the young
man av'vay._ Marie seemed to have forgotten her brother in
her stranger friend’s danger. Didthe knowledge that ’he was

an enemy give her a pang? 'Not that, but that he must be \ .

’ punished. She sprung into the hall and caught his hand.
' ’ “ Then you do not believe this calumny ?” he said.
.r I“ Would on have come, to me, if you had murdered my
. ‘broth’erf o; the tale ‘is as false'ns the heart-of Dujanlin."

. ' “ Let the prisoner alone," said 'Dujardin, hoarsely. “ Guards,
‘ Mend to him‘. , If he escapes, your lives shall answer‘it."

' . , v \

  
\

 
F

 
/

 
I ~ i
l .

“T ' \ g:  ' A word) wrru you. ' .L - "39,1 "

 
They ’zlraggol him away, and she knew enough ,of the stern
awe of war to be sure he was doomed. ,And he had come
all that weary may to bring her the souvenirs of her dead
brother. And 5] e, to him, a stranger! _ '

.She could not know all he had felt while gazing on her , \
picture taken from the body of the young lieutenant. She,
‘confesSed that she was wonderfully drawn by his handsome, ’ ‘
open face and expressive eyes. She saw him, then, led like
a lamb to the slaughter, and dropped lulmost fainting in the
hall. Lamont was going out to her, when the Governor
stopped him. ‘

“ A word with you, monsieur. How is it that you know ‘

.. so much of t1r‘s dangerous man ?” , ‘
' “ I know nothing of him, your excellency."

_ “ Then how come he in your company ‘2”

, “ In faith, I found him on the Chumbly. His French was

perfect, and hid story well connected, so what could I say i”

 
. , _ r “‘ It- must heve been he who stole the plan.” ,
I “I think not, your excellency. He had not {oft the house, " '
an; no such paper was found upon him. Besides, it seems
i: 'to me that the person must have known the house very well.

[gave this young man no hint by which he could know where
the council was to be helt ." ,
f‘ I,do not hold you blameless in the matter, cnptain.”

J At these\words the captain drew off his sword and held
\ out the hilt to his commanding ofﬁcer. The Governor looked
' at him in surprise. \, '

\

CHAPTER XI.
. , r A NIGHT 01" moms

t

“ WHAT do you mean 1’” he said. . y ,
' “ The surrender of my sword," said Lamont. " Since I am
-' accused,‘I do not wear my blade in the service of Fiance
. While the odinm hangs over me. Those who fight under
I .he lQies on the white ﬂag [must be free from stain?" I

' ‘1th not that," skid the Governor. I“ But young”.

  
u

/

I  ’ ' 1/ .

7 THE 31mm sunn.
beatnik) blame; It was your conﬁdence in him which misled
,ua an. Because he happens to he a good swordsman, you

must. take every thing he says for granted."

“ Your excellency, it seems to me a pity to hang a man who
handles his sword like that."

“ Nonsense. 1 am glad we have caught him. To be sure,

, we dare not hang him openly, but out-of that prison he never
,’ comes alive. You were going with Mademoiselle D’Ariguy.
What think you of the murder of her brother?”

“If he was murdered, Dujurdin was the man who (lid the
deed !” / \

“.I can not believe it. His story is plausible enough. And
this murder, more than any thing else, will induce me to hung ‘
the Englishman. Good-night.” r

Lamont found Mnrie waiting,r for him.

“ Come," she said, eagerly, “let us go to my house.

,to talk with you.”

It was nearly morning before the light disappeared from
the windows of the D’Arigny mansion. Soon lifter, Lamont
appeared, walking slowly and thoughtfully down the street to-
ward the Fleur de Lis.

The prison in which the young man was immured, was A
large stone building near the river, nearly opposite St. Helen's.
The dungeon in which he was pluced was nlmost on a. level
with the water. In this dark, noisome plnce he was to Wait
his fate, whatever that might be.

/ death in the face, a man will look over the record of his life
\in It moment. Wilton reviewed his, and found, that although '
wrong sometimes, as what man is not, he had not been guilty
of any unpnrdonuhle sin. He thought he must die. At his
age, the life just opening before him wzts very sweet, and he
had taken his ﬁrst sip at the cup culled love since he had
seen Marie. Would she think of him again? Or, if she did,
7 would she not some time i believe that he had killed ,her,
, brother? I . ‘

The thought was maddening. He rose to his feet and
paced restlessly buck and forth, over the earthen ﬂoor, He
thought how that thee, pictured in the locket, had sent a thrill
through him as he said to himself that, under God, here we!
the": one face for him l’L ' ‘

I wish

 
Left to himself, and staring _ \

 
r

\

no": as ‘A mason. . A 81 . l

The rattle of a key in the lock roused him. ‘ He looked up. \
The rays of the morning sun were pouring’ through the grated
window,overlocking the river. The door swung on its hinges.
and a. woman, muﬁled in a cloak, entered. ‘ ~

“A lady to see you,” said the jailer. “Excuse me, ma-
, demoiselle, but, I must look you in.”

She bowed slightly. The door closed and.the lock grated.
She dropped the cloak from her shoulders and revealed
‘Maric! Her face was very pale and her lips trembled. He
‘ looked at her quickly, and for a momentcould not speak. At

last he ejaculated :

“ You, mademoiselle ?” 7‘_

“ 1‘ have come to visit you in your trouble,” she said.
“Icould not rest until I had done it. I am sorry to see
you here for a good deed. You came here to tell me 'of my
brother‘s death."

“ Mademoiselle, I speak as a man who is near death has a.
right to speak, and as I should not dare to speak unless death
were very near at hand. I pitied your brother and you.
But it was only until I saw your face that I determined to
come to Montreal. Come and sit by me on‘this bench ; it is

. all I can offer you; you must excuse it." ,‘

She took a seat beside him, and he gained possession of both
her hands. ' '

, ,“ Events are often advanced by circumstances,” he said. “It

this had not happened, it might have been months ~or years I

before I would have said to you what I say now. I love you

-—,I never thought to ﬁnd the woman I could love as I love
you. I love you dearly. There is nothing in the power
of man v to do, which I would not attempt for your

sake.” .

“ Monsieur 1” she said. /

“ Do not interrupt me now by exclamations, my, darling.
They will neither deceive me nor yourself. I have read faces
' too much not to know my ground. Irepeat, I love you dearly. ,
I can never love another woman. \ I think you cure for me '

« more than any man you ever met. Is it not so? I should not
ask you such questions unless I were near death. You can
nﬂ‘ord to be frank with one who lies in an open grave. An-
m me.” , ’

  
;(, ..  ’

" I. f ‘ _ rm: mam snsma.

, , Shogun a sort of gasp. I
'_ V “ Ilcan \not tell you. My heart has been at work since you '
came here. I have thought of you night and day. It was i/
noble, it was grand of you to come here, to aid me in my af- \ l:
diction. You can not tell how such deeds work on a woman’s
heart. ‘ Yes, I am sure of it now ; I love you l”
“ My beautiful one," said Wilton, holding her close to his
beating heart. “ Ifyon knew the life I have led. A wanderer
' in, the wilderness. All my family at one stroke of savage
, vengeance were swept from the face of the earth, and I was
a left alone. You can imagine my desolation. No one who
knew how I had suffered but my faithful friend, who is in pri- .
i / / son for ,my sake. That untutored Irishman ihas a noble ‘V
heart. He followed for my love, as I came here for
yourst" '
 “I am glad you have spoken. I know my own heart now
j better than I ever did. You shall not die, however. I will
save you.” ' .
“ What can you do, poor girl ?" x
“ You shall see. A woman’s heart is strong in the cause
she loves. She can work miracles. You shall see 1"
She ran her eye hastily about the room, noting its strong
and Weak points with a woman’s quickness. The window
' was a low one. She examined the bars, and found that one
. of them was nearly eaten through by rust on the side next -”
the river. For this reason it had not been seen’ by these over-
r looking the prison. I
t ' “I shall leave you now,” she said. “ Be on the watch to-
‘ night. , You have better friends in Montreal than you dream '
_. of.”  / I .
- He, caught her in his arms and kissed her lips again and
again. She had come to him like the angel of hope, and he

-,-

could hardly let her go. . /
“ There, there, encroaching man, release me immediately. .
My time is nearly up.” ‘ ’ -.

She had just released herself, and put up her lips for a de-

corous parting kiss, when the door swung open, and ’Majo‘r

\ Dujardin, black with rage. appeared upon the threshold. .

' “Camilla-l" he screamed. " Lache I How dare you?” A ‘ a
/  A glance of fury came lnto the eyes of Wilton. He looked A ‘ 

 
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About him fora weapon. Nothing appeared. but the large
stone jug which held the drink allowed him.‘ Grasping this '
by the handle, he hurled it, with the utmost precision, at the " .
head of the intruder, who had dared to call him coward. The ‘

' fellow‘tried to dodge the missile, but, as generally happens, I
managed to get directly in the way of it. It struck him on
the head, and but for the high cocked hat he wore would
have cracked his skull. Hefell to the ﬂoor, deluged by the
“ vin ordinairc” contained in the jug. He rose, boilingr with,
rage, and,like a coward, as he was, drew his sword upon the
prisoner. At that sight, Marie threw herself betWeen them,
and confronted him with gleaming eyes. . *

“ Who is n leche, now, Captain Dujardin? Do the men
who are brave draw the sword» upon nu unarmed man i”

“ He has insulted me," he puntcd.

“ You insulted him ﬁrst,” she retorted.

“ What right had he to salute you ‘3” he demnndecl. .

“What right? Ah,monsieur, you question his right. I
can set you at ease on that point. I allowed him to salute
me, because he is my mm. Does that satisfy you? I might
ask Captain Dujardin how he dares intrudenpon the private
s‘ﬁ‘airs of others? *Be so good as to leave us.”

“ I beg your pardon. This- prison
charge.” . , ,

“ Is your authority higher than the pass of the Governor P" ,

is under my

.t she said, producing it.
\

Let me look at it, however."

“ It is not. .
He read it and called the

.She handed him the pass.

jailer. .
“ How long has mademoiselle been beret?" / I

“ Just an hour,” said the ofﬁcial, briskly.

“ Then your time is up, mademoiselle. Jitiler, secure the",
door. Marie, come with me.” , I
‘ She gave her lover her hand and left him, but not to walk
by the side of her enemy. .

“I have a. weapon here,” ‘she said, showing the handle .
of a, poniard; “ and Iwill use it without .scrnple if you 1
items near me. The jailer will'show‘ me the way out."

“ You undetermined to hate me, then i", he said.

" Corteinly; and l have the best, reasons in the world be

\

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m WT, sum ' ' ‘

the step. Be so good as tokeep a little further oﬂ’, monaienr.
You approach too near.” ' = » r ,

Dujardin ground his teeth savagely, He had hated her
brother because he opposed his marriage with his sister, and
that brother‘lay dead on the island in Champlain. ,Now the
sister, for whose love he had done the deed, hated him too.

“ Accursed fate l" he muttered, as the girl stepped out into
the street. “ How every thing conspires to bafﬂe me.”

The night came, and such a night as men love who do
deeds which they Would have hid from the light—a night
without a star. The clouds hung low, and muttered. At
midnight a storm of great violence came, and lasted for an
hour. Aﬂer that, it was darker than ever. At this hours.
boat pushed out from the shore, a mile above the prison where
Wilton was conﬁned, containing ﬁve persons: four men, and
a. sand] person muﬂied in a cloak. The men pulled cautiously/
down-stream toward the prison, on isolated building, standing
gloomy and vast not. far from the bank of the stream.

These are the men whom the love of Marie has brought
to the rescue of her lover.
looted, determined to save so scientiﬁc a fencer from death by
the cord; Despard, dark, stern and resolute; Wenona, appa~
rently as impassive as marble, but really enthusiastic in the
cause of the young man whom, by right, he ought to have
considch an enemy; Mick O'Toole, eager and impulsive,
and readylfor any (longer in the\cause of his master. The
Irishman, by dint of hard swearing, and his incomprehensh
ble oddity, had satisﬁed his captors that he knew nothing
about the Silent Slayer, and after a severe inquisition, had been
set at liberty. Lastly, in the stern of the boat, hid in the

long, cloak, was Marie, whom nothing could dissuade from‘_
V going with the expedition.

The party landed oppositc‘the prison, and stole silently
toward it. Wilton was lying there, wondering whether that
Weak girl could do anythingr for him, but in his heart thank-‘
i“$.0va that, whether he lived or died, she knew that he
loved her. While the storm raged he had worked in Silence

:1 Withn‘snmll knife which his captors had overlooked. picking
0t“ the pieces of rusty iron upon the_bar which must be bro-

ten "she passed outtoeredpm. The hours dragged by.

Titers is Lamont, cool and col-,

,t'

   
' v. H ‘ r ’ r ' c ,i J" " , J: ,
~',‘ ' ‘ unuxmo Trix MBA. 8A

'1 Once or twice he tried his strength upon the bar, but as often , i
 ‘ as he did so, though it bent it would not break. ” I '
‘ Midnight came, and the terrible storm was at its hight.
5 ,When it lulled, he began to be anxious. His window was
' not far from the ground. If he could only break the bar!
~He had seized it again, and was about to ,throw‘out. it“ his
strength, when he saw the face of an Indian peering through
the bars, so close that he felt the breath upon his cheek.
' His heart sunk Within him. An Indian must. of course he
,1 'his enemy, and the hopes he had nursed of escaping left him
when he saw him. _They rose again as it deep whisper came
' through the bars.
“ Silent Sluyerl Hist l"
Wiltou’s heart'gnvc it great bound. It was the chief, Wen
‘nona. '
“ Come to break iron, get you out," said Wenona. “ Which
.bar T“ '

' Wilton pointed out the weakened iron. Wenona laid one
hand upon the well, and the other on the bar, and by a single
exertion of his powerful muscles, snapped the iron and hem.
it out of the way. Through the opening thus made, bylthe
exercise of all his address and strength, aided by Wenona.

-' the young man managed to escape. ' ’
He stood free on the outside.
“I can't go without the Irishman," said he. ‘3 Where in
~he, conﬁned ‘2” ‘

(“Redhead here,"\'sald Wenonn. “ All friend here; come I

and see.”
i A few rods away stood the party, waiting for them. He -
pressed the hand of Lamont hurriedly, and gave the other
~ to ,Mick, who nearly sniveled over it. Despau‘d nodded to
him. ..
’ “And who is this ‘2" asked Wilton, tumiug to the cloaked

ﬁgure, \ . '

~ In reply.a soft little hsud stole'out to meet his, and be we
1; tuswered.‘ _ ’ ,

" ' "‘Oh,,come quickly,” she whispered; “ you are not yet,
Info."

’ ,

 
THE SILENT SLAYER.

CHAPTER XII.
“ THEY ARE GONE, ALL GONE t”

Tn“ stood together in the silent street, beneath the walls
0? the somber prison, Wilton looked at it with a feeling
akin to awe; In that prison he had spent some hours which
he could not fail to remember, to his dying h’our. He looked
abm't on the sturdy band who had risked so much for his
SWY and called them by name. But, Lamont raised his
hm impressively and commanded silence. ‘

“ It will not do, Egbert—for so I must cull you. Remem-
ber that this is the only act of my life which will not rcclound
to the honor and glory of France, the nation I love so well.
Bu" when you stood by me in ‘ that fray in coming up from
the Chumbly, I promised to stand by you, and, by St. Denis,

mean to do it. But you are not called upon to know
me.” ~ . V

‘ “ You set me right, monsieur,” said the young man. “I
sho‘hld have kept silent. I beg your pardon.”

“It is ‘unnecessary,” replied Lamont. “I do not know
any one here. I may have my suspicions, but that amounts
to nothing.”

Here he gave an indescribable shrug and glance at Murie,
who pouted and laughineg struck him with her hand. As
she did so they became conscious that some one was whtchiug
them. , The chief" communicated the fact to Despard in a low

. voice, and signiﬁcantly touched the handle of his hatchet.

“ No, no,” replied Despard. in a low voice.
that. ‘ ‘ Wait a moment.” ‘ - . I
The chief drew hack, and Despard, without appearing to

r “ It needs not.

’ do so, looked keenly at the man who was dying in wait for

them. He was peeping round the \comer of the prison in a
sly‘mnhner, drawing back his head like Punch in the panto-
mime, whenever he thought any one look’ed’his way: Deepard

9milad'and made a silent gesture to the chiet‘utor come nearer; ’

gait a dozen words passed between them, and Wenone drev

 
‘ nnther the ear.

,hs/don’t like to see a bla’guard. av a fellow 'poppin' out his y I

   
\ ’ /

WATCH $0.,

      
\

    
back into the shadow. The" next moment, when Wilton
baked for him,‘ he was nowhere to be seen.

“'Keep silent all," whispered Despard.
move for, the present.”

,A stillness, like that of the death-chamber, fell upon 'all'
the party. Though they did not understand what it was
which the chief had disappeared to accomplish, they had
snﬂicient faith in his ability to do the deed to leave it. entirely
to him. Despard, after the chief left them, drew back into
the shadow and muﬂied his face in his cloak. Wilton pos-
sessed himself of Marie and threw an arm around her, for
protection, of course. At least, so he said, and if he did not
know, who should? . \~

The watcher appeared to be in doubt whether to advance r ~
or retreat. At times he drew his body entirely behind the
,wall and was hidden for some moments, and then appeared
again, peeping at the party.

“ Mnsther Wilton,” suitl Mick. -

“ Well, Micki” , t .

“ Would it be wrong aﬂ' I was to go and punch that snake
on the head ‘2” , . ‘

“ Decidedly wrong, Mick. You would probably make
noise enough to rouse the guard. Keep silent.”

Mick, bemoaning in his inmost soul the fate which robbed
mm of the right to punch the'heud of the peeping mun, was! t .,
constrained to keep silent by this order. But, from time to ‘
time, he indulged in certain dumb show, expressive of \a \-
desire to perform the pleasing duty. A row is dear to an
'Irishman’s heart. 

“ Masther,” he said, after a while. feeling it to be impossible t
to keep silent any longer. *'
/ “ I'told you to be silent." »
, “ I know it. But look at the haste. Ivery time his head
‘pops out I does he, wishin’ 1 was there to give him a butt
Ain't nobody to punch him '2"

‘ “ Somebody will get punched in a moment if they are not ~
careful,” said Wilton, “ and it is my Opinion it will be Mick. l"
O'Toole.” . ’ . ‘

.“An'ah, masther dear! An’ sure ye can’t blame ab’y-ef '

   
“ We must not

   
i

  
r ' ~ K A

 
.‘rmc SILENT lsnkvm /

A: .

I hmdftrom behind a wall like a coward, as he is. Arrah, bad
‘Zcess to ye, an’ the likes av yel ,I wisht I had ye on the

shure uv Champlain, wouldn’t I tie a kettle“ til yer tail, ye
dirthy (log it Al'l‘uh, whillalo, murther, an’ isn’t it enough to
make the (lid rise out av their graves to see him? Whishtl
,Get back, ye haste." ’ \

Of course the Irishman was too good a scout to suli‘er his
voice to rise above a whisper all~ this time. He knew that.
they were in deadly peril, and restrained himself, though the
desire to punch the head of the offender rose higher every
moment. The watcher did not change his tactics in the least,
though Despard began to cast anxious glances in his direction.
Lamont began to be uneasy. I

“ Let‘s getmut of this."

‘ I “ Impossible,” said Despard, “ while that man is watching."

“ Then I shall probably be the occasion of a. muster of
troops in a day or two," said Lamont, calmly. "‘ The question

will be, ‘What were you doing under the wall of the prison '

in company with the English spy 't’ No answer. / Take him
out. Shot 1”

At the end of this brief summary of his probable fate.
Lamont smiled, and appeared resigned.

. “ Leave us, dear cousin,” said Marie. “ It is better. ' We

can get along without you now, and you are really in great

danger.” .

V f“ Is it possible? And you actually ask me to go away."
“ And I add my entreaties to hers.” said Wilton. “ You

have done what you could. It is impossible to do more. I

thank you from my heart for what you have already done for

me, and beg you to go away and leave me to my fate,\tvhat-

r ever that may be."

my word." .

“ If I do,” said Lamont, “may my sword break in my
hand in my next battle, When I meet some wretch that gives
no quarter. I stand by you until you cross the river." I

“Thanks. But you should consider your position if you
are taken.” _ ,

. “I have considered all this," said Lamont, stemly. “Be
Ellen. _ Would you inake me turn coward in this last hour ?
Letﬂne alone.

I have sworn to stand by you and I will keep‘

 
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3 ram 3! sauna.
“Bush,” said 'Despard. “That. spy 1‘s getting uneasy.
Dependupon it, we shall see his face soon. He will try to
— get nearer-1’
It was true. Even as he spokeythe whole body of the
’man appeared from ’behind the 'building, prostrate upon the
ground, and he begun to crawl slowly toward them. It .
_ evidently annoyed him/[that he could hear nothing of their
conversation in the place he had chesen, and he determined
to get nearer at all hazards. Foot by foot he drew him-
self along the ground with his eyes upon the party.
“Keep your face covered, captain," whispered Despard.
7 “He must not know you, of all men. I am satisﬁed as to
- myself." I , 
Lamont. drew the mask he wore closer over his face and
kept back out of sight. The spy had now gnined a position
from which he could hear any thing they might choose to
say. He was disappointed. Not a word was uttered. and
he knew nothing of the danger which was approaching him.
Not ten feet away, gliding forward with stealthy steps, came
the giant form of Wenona. hatchet in hand. Marie held her
 breath in suspense. Would the chief kill him? So silently
did he come on, that the hatchet was lined above the head of
the spy before he was conscious that. any one was near him!
Before he could raise his head, the ax descended, but not to
~ slay. Wenona suffered the weapon to turn in his hand, so
that the side only struck the enemy. But, even that was
enough ‘to lay him prostrate, with the blood gushing from his '
‘ mouth and nose. Wenonn had taken care that the fellow
1’ should not see him, and as soon as he had brought him and
laid him‘nt Despard’s feet he glided away. to the boat. Des-
pard took a. handkerchief and wiped the blood from the face
of the man, and looked down.
7“ Do you know him ?" asked Despard
“ Ay. He is called Rogue Lnnglier.” ~
“ A desperate roman. The same man 1who attacked us on
the road from Chutnbly, Egbert.”
“Ah. ho! Is he dead 1'” I ' .
(“No ‘such goothluck," said Destmrd. “ If I lied known
him before I should hove allowed the chief to kill him. He

 
‘ :is ﬁnned. Wait e moment 7M) I bring him to Helene-s."
' \ . ‘ I I ,

 
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, “ No, monsieur, you were too many for me.

v . x I
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m slum" sum. .
I

A He took some sort of drug from his pocket and held it to
the. nostrils of the man. In a moment he stirred and began
to recover; but it was only to ﬁnd a knife at his throat, held
by a determined man. , /

“Curse you 1 what do you want?”

“ Keep silent, for your life," replied Despnrd, in a voice
which chilled ‘the very marrow of the spy. “ It would take
but little to induce me to cut your throat from ear to ear.
Youwere watching us ?"

“ Monsieur—”

“ Answer the question directly.

“I was watching you."

What do you say P”

“ Your object ?” ‘

“ To ﬁnd. out who you were, monsieur." ‘ «
“ Did you succeed ?” . ,
Ah, you are
careless with that knife.
you might do me an injury.”

“ I shall do you one in a moment.

r watch 1‘"

“ Captain Dujardin.”
“ Ah 1 that young man is everywhere. What was his put.
, pose in placing you here ?" , ’ >
“ He hates the young man who is to die to-morrow, and
wanted me to be sure he does not escape, somehow.”
“He is very kind,” Said Wilton. “ I do not know how such
polite attentions may be returned. . Assure him. on my part

that I heartily thank liim’,'and will do‘niy best to' requitt. ‘

him.”

“ You are bold, monsieur. Do not carry it too far. You

are not yet out of Montreal, and it is a long road ‘to the Cham— ‘ '

)ly'n

“ Assnredly, Monsieur Lnnglier; I know it. If P mistake
\not, you know something of me. We had n. little set-to on
that same road of" which you speak. Did you like it ?”

/ “Curse youl Why do you insult me? I will yet repay

‘you for that deed; I give you ﬂiil'wux'niiig.” V
“Thewarning is unnecessary, my sweet villain»! I am

'“cmng you. ,What reason have you to give why we should‘r'

/

' M 5“] yon hand and foot, and toss you into the river i’"

You ought to be more cautious; *

Who set you here to .1

 
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I ' _ ' any/use of what you have seen tonight i“

' - .m innocent man i?”

.tu'
_s

'~' ‘ “ Don’t interrupt me again, or I will give you cause to think

 out in the evening.

 Despard went on, pitilessly :7

7': upon the river, end Waiting fora boat which was to take him,

' geant raise his sword and thrust the wealthy gentlemen thr

; > the man who was your accmnplice in the crime, but who never.

«

" mmsnmo ms‘ HEMiIOBY.

‘i‘Yon would not do that,  hope. You would- not murder

 
“ Innocent Y" cried Wilton.\

“ Innocent! Certainly he is as innocent as a baby," said
Despard. “By the way, Monsieur Langlier, there is some
thing of which ‘I wish to speak. If you have a good mem
ory, you will know that what I say is true.”

, “ Who are you 2” ‘
“ His Satanic Majesty in propria persona,” replied Despard

   
ao.‘ Four months ago, a wealthy citizen of this place walked
‘ He never came back."

“Such things often happen."

“ True; I am glad to ﬁnd you a man of judgment. Such.
things happen too often. Search was made for the man fat
and wide. He could not be found."

\ “AM that is sad.”
I r“ Was it, not? Upon the night when he disappeared, two
men were walking by the river-side,‘not far from this place.
' They saw the wealthy individual spoken of———who had some
\Very ﬁne diamonds on his person at that moment—come down
to the river-side. He was followed closely by two men, one
of whom wore the uniform of a sergeant of muskcteers. Do
you begin to comprehend me now i"
The villain was silent; but they could hear him gasp for
breath, as if the charge implied came too suddenly upon him."

\

      
“ He paused upon the river-bank, in a lovely place, and
these villains stole upon him silently. He .was looking out,

      
The gentlemen who watched saw the ser-
ough

to the, other side.

   
the heart. He died without a groan.“
. “ You lie 1” hissed Langlier, in agitated tones; " you know
you lie !" I
“ Nonsensei you know I do not. I know the Jew to whom
you sold the murdered man‘s diamonds and rings. I know

 
amok a blow. Do you think, after this, that you will mm

   
153 men shunts.

> “Monsieur, if. I ever speak, hang me for murder,” gasped
_ Langlier. ‘ ’

“ And so I will. I have the proof. There are few of Du-
jnrdin’s creatures whom I have not in iron bonds. There;\ 5
your watching is done for [rt-night. Go." .

“ And an] I not to know your name ?" r

“ No. Go your way; and it‘ we hear of you again, upon
your head be it.” '

“ It seems to me you know every thing." said Lamont. “ It
is strange.”

“ Not at all; I make it my business to know these things.
Come.” '

They started for the river, Wilton still holding Marie by the
hand. 1 0n the point of embarking, they were interrupted in
a. way they had not looked for. A man came suddenly upon
them from the prison. shouting as he came. \They recognized
the voice of Dujurdin. He did not mind their numbers in his
furious rage. , t
‘ “Hold, there! By heaven, you have an escaped prisoner
among you. He shall go to prison."\ ‘ I

“ lend me a sword,” said Wilton, who was the last man r
of the party. “ The rest of you remain in the boat’snd keep
your faces hid. Crouch down, Wenona, or he will know ‘
you by your hight.” , ,

Without a. word of delnur, anont handed back his sword. y
Wilton- grasped it ﬁrmly, and met the madman three paces
from the shore. ’ ‘

“ You seek me," he said. “Have your wish, then. Ah,
there is the moon l We shall have light enough." ’

The majestic orb of night began to loom above the hori-
zon's rim. Three 'passes, like lightning ﬂashes, and the
sword of Wilton passed through the body of the guilty
wretch. ‘ ‘ , .'

“Confess,” said Wilton, with his point still lowered; “ who

' killed D’Arigny l’" ’

“ I\did i“ said the terror-stricken wretch. “ I stabbed him
to. the heart, because he would not speak in my favor to his
sister.” _ V -

: ‘fYou hesr, gentlemen : the villain confesses. [Leave him,
View he lies.” 7, t! > C y

/

 
TEE Purine. ‘ ' ﬂ ,

' The boat pushed on into the river, no one waiting to see ~
whether the wound-was mortal. The face of Wilton wore a
lofty look. ,He had cleared his character in the eyes of the
world, as well as in those of the woman he loved., Lamont
moved. so as to allow Marie to sit near her lover. The vola-
tile partisan tookpleasure in bringing these two noble hearts
together. ~

“Disposed of neatly,” said he, and after that, said not a
word, but bent to his oar with all his strength. In'a short
time they reached the other side of the stream, and were soon
grouped upon the bank. ' ,

“ The path is before you,” said Lamont. “ Wenona goes
with you to the Chumbly.’ His presence will do you a world
of good. My friend, let me take your hand. You cheath
me, but you wear a heavenly sword. and that stones for all.

. A word more: what sort of a gun is that you had at the
castle ?” v

“Simply an air-gun. It. is not of much service, but does
very well to frighten people." ’

“I don’kkn’ow the principle. but I mean to study it out.
You made it yourself, I. suppose ‘3" ' '

“ Yes." '

I “Let us have short leave-takings. Once more, good-by.
Despard, you go back with us ?" ,

“ I do.. I only came to save my friend, as you did. Good-
by, Wilton,” he added, pressing the hand of the young man,
and at the same time slipping into it a folded paper. It was
” r the plan of the French Campaign. '

Wilton took Marie by the hand and led her aside.

I “ I can not ask you to go with me, my darling. I would

not be so cruel as to ask you to share the perils of the way. ‘

We are both young, end can aﬂ‘ord to wait. Will you give '

me your promise to wait for me until I come, or until you

know‘ that I am dead ?"
. Her only reply was a’ kiss. He understood, her. She

' would be true to him unto death. A. way was arranged by

which he miglit'write to her, and they parted. Many battles

, ' ,ntus‘t be fought, many hours of sutfering pass, before either
_ iould hope to see the other's face again. \ I ,
.fr" Silent Slayer,” said Wenona, pausing as they were about

\ . 7 < I

«

 
rma s'rnnk'r SLAYER.

’ to turn into the forest-path toward the Chambly, “ you see
before you one who has fought the battles of France. B‘ut,
higher than his love for France is the love of Wenona for
Lamont. I will see you safe to the lake.”

Wilton only answered by a look of gratitude. He knew
that. the road over which they must pass was full of danger,
and than only in the chief he could safely trust. .The warrior
took the lead; Mick O‘Toole followed close behind,,and next
to him came Wilton. .

“ Indians are in the woods," said Wenona. “Good Indian
sometimes; other times bad Indian. But who among them .

. does not know the face of Wenoua, the Giant Chief?”

Wilton glanced admiring-1y at his stalwart frame and sin _
ewy arms, as he stretched them forth in conscious pride of his
strength. But he said nothing. He knew that it is in\the
nature of an Indian to be a little boastful and vain, and he
did not expect any thing else.

As they strode along, ominous sounds attiénded their pro-
gress, which veriﬁed the chief’s assertion that Indians were
in the woods. Wenona erected his head and looked suspi-
ciously about him. He knew the signs of the wood, perhaps,
as well as any man under its canopy. He had made it his
home. He had trod its wilds at all hours, and slept under its
sheltering boughs. v I

“ Hist l" he said, pausing after a little. “Indians are in the
path." , I V

They halted a moment, and could hear stealthy footfalls,

\closing in on the path in every direction. Turning on his
heel, the chief signed to them to follow him, and ran lightly I,
back several rods, plunging into an obscure path which seemed

« to lead into the deeper recesses of the forest. He reached a V
place at last where a low pine grew, whose sweeping branches
touched the ground on every side. Lifting a branch, he inti-
mated by a gesture that they were to go under it. /‘\

“And you ‘2” said Wilton. ~
 The chief stamped impatiently, and seeing that he was do.
cided, Wilton entered and was followed by Mick. Once un-
der the bonghs, the Indian dropped the branch hede raised,

‘ ' and they'were completer shut in. A neater hiding-place“
’ x ,‘ probably could not hue been found in the woods; and what
1 ' r l - .

I

\

 
" made it more secure was the fact that hdndreds of similar

” megs were thickly crowded about the spot, and it must be by
a lucky accident that an Indian should ﬁnd the particular
tree under which they were concealed. They heard the rapid
footsteps of Wenona‘ recede, and felt that, for the presentk

*they must depend upon themselves. Wilton was a cool and
hardy man, and had been in greater danger than this, and
Mick looked upon it With utter iudiﬁ'ereuce, in the absence of

' - 'nny immediate canse for alarm. - ' .

' ‘ “ Mathher dear,” he whispered, “I don’t thinkthe bla‘guards \
e’u‘d ﬁnd this place at all, at all." '

“‘ You don't. want them to ﬁnd it, I should hope.”

” I’m afenrd they won't.”

“Why, you diabolical Irishman; do you want to get
caught?”

“ Sure, I dunno, masther dear. Ye‘ve been havin’ all the
fun til yersilf in Montreal, an’ new ye go about grudgin‘ me
a bit av a row. That’s not fair."

K “I never saw such a fellow as you in my life," muttered .'
Wilton. “ Silence for your life! Here they come i” ,

As he spoke, an Indian appeared at a turn in the forest-
path, and took a cautious survey of the ground. The men,
lying hidden under the slanting boughs, were silent enough
now, for, close behind the ﬁrst Indian they could see the
\ﬁerce faces of half a dozen more. They were evidently at
a loss how to proceed. The hidden men were not the sort
to leave a broad trail, and even the slight one they left had
been carefully obliterated by the chief before he departed.

Wilton laid his hand upon the arm of the Irishmanfto
enjoin him to silence. He feared some outbreak on his part;
and with ‘the utmost dlﬂiculty‘restrained him,’fcr in the
savage who led, the Irishman recognized one of the, fore-
most of’his pursuers on the day when the scouts were ﬁrst, .

' introduced to the reader. He satisﬁed his conscience, in the"
absence of speaking,- by shaking his fist, at the unconscious In-
. dian. ‘ w H
w There Was aelittle opening near the tree under wliie
they lay. . The Indians gathered herennd begengto con;
,.Vém\ in rather’loud voices for Indians. They were nearly ,
‘ l v ' all young” warriors, unaccustomed to the lmil. ' .

 
m 91mm 

“ Dujardin is wounded nearly unto death,” said the lender,
speaking in the Indian tongue. “His blood soaks into the
ground. The friend of the St. Regis must not die unre-
veuged." y

“ He shall not,” said one of the young warriors boast-
iugly. “ I 'am the Red. Fox of the St. Regis. I will follow
the Silent Slayer and the Redhead to their death,"

V “_ Good. Where are they ?"

“ They have hid underground like foxes." said the Red Fox 
. “ but I am more cunning than they. Where they can go, I
can follow. Red Fox will be a chief.” \

“ A chief does not talk so much," said the leader, doubtingly.
“ His are acts, not words. Beware that the Silent Slayer does
not‘get you within reach of the gun which slays but makes no
sound." _ ' -

Several of the younger Indians glanced about them in
considerable trepidation. They evidently did not care to .
' be too near to a man who had the reputution of having a
gun which could kill without noise. They remembered the
experience of Beud-the-Bow and Sleep-by-Day, who had suf-
fered from this mysterious arm. '

“ Remember that Dujurdin promised to make us rich in r
powder and blankets,” said the leader. “ We will yet take the
Silent Slayer and the Redhead and burn them. with ﬁre. Scat- '
V ter and search the woods. They lie concealed somewheremnd
we must ﬁnd them.”- -

The band scattered in various directions. and searched K)!
the trail. Several of the principal ones had followed the trail
intentionally left. by the chief. They passed away,'end the
place again became silent. Mick was about to lift the bough
and go out, when he saw one of the savages stealing back with
cautious steps. It was the boastiug‘t‘ellew, who had called
himself Red Fox. , 1

Mick drew in his head as quickly us'Lauglier had done that
dry, when hiding behind the wall of the prison. -

' The Indian evidently had an object in coming back alone.
, He really was an acute fellow, thirstng for distinCtien, and

hoped to be able to take theglory of the discoveryof the Si-
lent Slayer, if not his capture. to himself.

What was 3t which had roused his suspicion?

 
H).
i.

k

\ r ’x'nv men irox mum

\

A simple thing in itself,_but sufﬁcient, in the mind of. an
Indian, to awaken suspiCion. In lifting the bongh-nnd allow-
ing it to drop back upon the ‘ground, a heap of leaves had
been disarranged slightly. V Not to any great degree, but still
enough to catch the Imliun‘s eye. '

He was satisﬁed that something had passed under the tree.‘
" :Still it might not have been a human being. A bear or deer’
or wolf might have done it.

He approached the tree carefully, scanning it on every
side. His‘object in coming back alone was twofold; besides
the credit he could assume to himself, as we have snid,it1
his suspicions were just, he could shield himself from the
ridicule of his companions if they were false. ~

. Wilton saw at a glance that they were now in the greatest
danger of that perilous week. A single cry from the Indian
would bring down upon them the red scoundrels who pursued
, them. thirsting for their blood. He made ready for his work; ‘

but Mick touched him on the arm and showed him that by re-
treating to the other side of the tree, it would be impossible.
unless the Indian entered, to see them. Wilton slipped out
.of sight. A. moment after the savage pushed / aside the

branches and looked in. .

' He saw nothing and began to think that he had been de—

‘ ceived, and was glad that he had'come back alone. How.
ever he determined to be sure, and so drew his whole body in.
Wilton threw himself upon the Red Fox. and bore him to

the earth before he could utter a. cry. The ﬁngers or the
young partisan had closed upon his throat in a vice-like grasp.

The eyes of the young savage were protruding from their

sockets and his tongue lolling out of his mouth, when Wilton “

remembered that, though an Indian, he was a St. Regis,
and one of the party of‘ the chief himself. Under the circum-
_ stances, he determined to spare him. Kept quiet by the
‘ gentiefpersuasion of a knife at his throat, the Indian suffered
hiinselfto be bound hand and foot. '
The glory of, the capture of the Silent Slayer was growing L
J small bydegrees‘and beautifully less ” in his mind’s eye. The '
poor fellow stared helplessly at his captors, and evidently r6
fgretted that-he had suﬂ‘ered himself to be led away by hind;-

 :_ 'r

 
ywlv

.' rectly afterward.

TEE swam sum

\

" Mick tpokoﬂ‘ the hunting-shirt ofihe savage, cut it into

’ strips and made a rope with which he tied the Red Fox to the

body of the tree in such a position that it was impossible for
him to get away. He grinned hopelessly at Mick, who was
about to gag him. '

' “ Good fellow, Redhead,” he said.
dian.” .

" Like ’em," growled Mick.
two v?"

“ Brudder,” said Red Fox.
same."

“ Ye baste l
ye? Arrah, bad scran til yel I’ll hate yer hide till it’s ridder
than my head. Take the bit in yer mout’ ye haste!
‘ye kick ag’in it now. Take the hit." \

Red Fox suffered the gag to be put into his jaws, though
tobviously under the impression that he was to be scalped di-
But, when he was securely anchored, they
paid no further attention to him, but sat down serenely to'wait
for the coming of the chief. Some hours passed, and the In-
dians came tmopiug back.
panion, and had not been able to strike the trail of the fugi-
tives. An angry frown showed itself on the face of the
leader. y

“ You are children,” he said. “ If the St. Regis must
send their women upon the war-trail, they should not
send them out with men. Did you see any thing,
Moose ‘3” \

The savage shook his head. None of the-others 'had been“
\more lucky, and hung their heads in shame. The captive
under the tree became restive. Wilton was lying prone upon
him, with his knife at his throat, but even then he showed a
desire to give his friends notice of his presence. But he
dared not, with death so near. As the Indians stood‘looking‘

“Like a poor In-
“ You want me to cut you in

“ Redhead—Red Fox. All
I

‘ nstupidly about them, Wnona suddenly appeared on the path.

ﬁgarding them With an angry eye. I,

‘5 What do the children of the St. Regis here, without the
order of their chief? Speak, Reed-tliat-Bends. ,Are yOu'the
leader 1'” ' ‘

’ “ The chief was not in Montreahand Dujardin was Lneuly‘i‘

l

D’ye. mane to till me that I’m just the same as \

Don’t '

They had missed their com-'

 
A.

unswnLn.

‘ slain. ‘He is the friend of the St. Regis,‘and shall we not
avenge him 1’" , ' 7

“ Are the {men of the St. Regis nothing but bounds,
to hunt the game of the Frenchmen? Reed-that-bmds, for'
a few blankets, would sell the honor of his nation.” '

“ What would the chief have us do? The Silent Slayer ill
in the woods. He has slain someof our best men.” I

“ You‘ seek the Silent Slayer. You are brave men to search
for one who knows the way of the woods." -' V

‘f What would you have us do, then?” said Reed-that-Bends,
angrily. ' , i r.

“ Return to Montreal, and be no longer the hound of the
Frenchmen. . When you go forth to battle, Wenonn will lead
you; ’but go no more when such men as Dujnrdin bid you.
He is not the friend of the St. Regis, for he is a. man who
slays his enemy by a. stub in the back.”

“ But where is the Red Fox? Shall we not ﬁnd him '9"

“ Is the Red Fox a tool, to lose his way in the woods? No.
Return to Montreal, where I will come to you.” ’

The Indians trooped away. When satisﬁed that they were
gpn‘e,_Wilton slipped out from the hiding-place. an‘d signed to

the chief not to speak, and led him aside, where he explained , '

'toliim the/position of the Red Fox. - ,
It will do to say that Wenona released the Red Fox on b
mum, and manifested surprise nt ﬁnding him. ‘
' The Giant Chief accompanied the two men to the Clmmbly, ' '
then helped them in the canoe to the banks of Champlain,
no further interruption to their journey having occurred. ’_ l‘
“‘ Silent Slayer,” said he, “ we part here. When we meal.
we are enemies, because you ﬁght with the chgees, whom
Wenona hates. We'nona. and the St. Regis ﬁght for the ,
French. But, I promised to see you safe to the lake, and' a
great chief keeps his word. Farewell.”
The cxtnoe shot out into the lake, and left the ,noble savage
standing on the point, like a statue of a giant in bronze. There
. he stood until the canoe faded from sight. . '

Mariot Dujardin did not die\ from his wounds. He was
\ found’ upon the rivenbauk and the surgeon saved his life.
Those who had heard his confession dared not speak 0f it.

 
m MT mun.
  doing they would imperil the lives ofzali w
' gesisted the Silent Slayer in his escape. '
 ‘,‘ Le; him alone." said Marie, in a conversation with La-
- mom.
"yet."
, The Silent Slayer reached the English lines in safety. Few
knew what ties he had to bind him to Montreal, or why he
was so eager for an invasion of Canada. When the _time
came—as come it. did—and the brave scout was happy in the

- I love of Marie his wedded wife, he was more than repaid for "
[he snﬂ'erings he had undergone.

"God will punish such a-villuin ; but. his .timc is no: »

 
\,

TDtME

"I'll. Mu Qnm. For nu "‘II‘ :chonl.

' We Nat King. For tavern-n rmono.

r thank]. "v' {Mu will! Iud no M

STAN

bxnnv

‘DIALOfﬂ

I for School Exhibitions and Home Intei
y... x 1,02] lutlulro. )5 to 55 rnp-ulnr Dlhlmu and Dru-nu In "ch
‘ 12m.) yang“, “LIL yous-yml, on rum-i“ vfprice, 1w t

Seadlé 2&5 Adams, Publishers, as wn;

——————._—_.__.
The“ volan but been prepnroll Wu!» «pedal referents m thelr .

1:: ads mod n: Irhuuh nud mrlun 'Ilh or with
b YOUNG PEOPL

9 AN E of Ivory scuba": Inth and Q'unula. ;
, < .r book. In the mnrhl, nt nny prlu, cam-oh: wmauyuul’ul and an

m, yuan», humor ALJ oomlmont.

.ann—n,
u. 
Aul'hﬂ L 1
4n“ and drum

out the furnllure u I a I»

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 1. ‘

hung o! the Mum. For nlno ynung lull".
\lnnz I Lin Englilh'n-u. For lun- hayl.
rank Coruxminn. Ear mall Ind tumult.
.Ihhm. Fur Lw-r lndlnn.
ll- Ruhrnrunl. Fur ll: bnvl.

.v'uluh will ynn Chopin! er lwnhoys.

Hobnoblplng. For ﬂu! alter; . .
Thu SecruMSunceu. n-rlhrnopenker'l. .
Your: Amerlcm ’l‘hru malu and Iwulemnlu.
grotto}; llnlu‘l PadlBy-l Fg‘ur {1mllll,?:vllmle. ‘
m 0 yo In no. or Iruma AL
Dognmlhm. For thrumulo Ip “half” u'.

 
The Quail nl’M . For no llnlo ‘Jll-
ﬂ‘he Tun-Pun) . For {our Indiu-

Thn Ignorant ("olllnulndod. Fnr Iwo lmyn.
The hut Yum”: M n. Fortwo nmln.

|
{Illne‘scnnes In Weddell Lil” Mnlnml femnlr-ITho Yenr’n Ruckmllnz. I? famqu Ilul 1 nah.

n ﬂla' Cnmenlou. For mule mul falnnlu.

‘lxe Villnuo with One Glnﬂumu. For eight to.

12:. Linden of Um Splrlu. Five young mm l lunlel Md on nulls.

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 2.

The Gollnl dleem. 9 main 1nd 1 female.

('imlerulln ur,’l‘lm 'Lllllo UL." Sllmwr.

Duin Gun and Snyiuu Bad. Saveral rhnrnrten.

The Golden Ruln. Two nmlu n -' lwo lomuln.

'l'heGll'L of the Fairy Qnun. So oral tom. 1

Tn‘l n i l and D'ne F w. For ,wo ulnan

Th: Cu Inlry Amn‘: ll t. to luv Cl: . For I"-
eral clmraclerl.

The Tm» Rainy-nu. For Iwn nmlel.

T‘ylng tho Char-run. Fn- llnruo mnln.

Tho anpv Foulllv. Fnr aaverul -nnl nlll.’

The Ruwbow. For Iovunl GLJruteﬂ.

DIME DIALO

Dyna liar-nu L‘onnm‘ n. , Faun hymn“,
7M5“. Furﬂvunmlﬂ.
I lnnln, 1 lam-la.
. A Burlenquo. 4 union.
Ens-plug tho Duh- For nunmuui mulch

DIME DIALO

‘nrllu in Life. ’I hrec mnlel uvl two (emolu-
Ilth, In nnd Charity. F0: three lllllw cl. I’.
u‘) an Joan. For two mule! an I mm t-nmm.
u . w. A "lnml Fun-v. For lit In: a girl;
. IEnchnmod Princeu. 2 Malena-warn! Vemnln
! ~11 to Whom Hon -r In Dun. 11nnlan,l ’emnle
- - {calla Climlt. Furuvoxnl mnlomonafonmlr
ology. Admwuln. For "may mrlu.

How to Trlte ‘ Pnpnlnr’ Storm. Two ml".
Thu New nml ﬁlm (ILL For twu mnlu.

A Senlanlon as La“. Fur twn mold.

The Grecnlmrn. For two mnlu.

Thu Three Mar of Suiunrr. l-‘or (our malts.
Thl 0111 Lady": \Vill. Fur {our mulon.

Tho Little l’h‘l In I I. For two lllllo glrlu.
How to l-‘lml tn clr. For ﬁr. n 1121. A
Tb. Virmu. Frr six young lwdhl-‘I-

A Cmumhlul Erin-cur. ,

Thu l‘ubll: muting. Flramnln and unkind”
The Engll-ll va-ler. For we all“. '

6333. K0. 3.

Tho Goal-ll Codi. For two mnlel. ‘ ')
)lu'orpl-ra. For two male: and two 90ml... -
Tlu {we Romans. For two mnlul. ‘
1w. Unmr. Srcnndmnc. Forum maln-
SJu'rlnz tho Whlw P‘unihn. A Hull“, 1 [It-mu}.
"Flu. mm. Call. A Racimuu. For one ml...

HHS, N0. 4.

{he Slubh‘elnwn Volume". 9 mlel. l lamb.
A Swnu from " I‘nul Pry.” For Inur InnHK

l'a Cl'nrms. For three males and one lemnl;
nu, Cll-r'x and B '00.". For three llllle nlrln,
{in Light \K’uy. ACollnquy. For two Loy»
\l'hnf llxc Llrl-y-r Snyl. For Cwn mnlu.

Tho (‘rlmu of Drug. AColloquy. For Norm" ‘
The Rmvnrd a! Benevolunco. her tour Wu.
The Letter. For two malu. 7

DIME DIALOGUES, ITO. 5,

P
"an0. (Inn-M. For school nr [nrlon

"The. “mum” to :1.

Pullan on Am. A Cnllnqnv. For two In.an
The Sh‘nlgln M rk. for neural Liﬁ‘h
Twn ill-on: M Lll'o. A Colloquy. but an 3er1. .

 
ahlr'd the Curmln. For Illulﬁ‘l nnd fernnlu.
lnly. Flvo buys Ind n to when

.' n-ulnuhw Day. Form-urn] female thwart

radix-2 in “Trn " Foruvanl maho-
hSehnnl Buy: Tribunal. Fnr can burl.

h a loan 'l‘onruo. Smrnl mull-I nnd fnnmln.

How Nut w an an Anni". For two {um-Ala.

Extract from Mnrlno Fullrm.

Lln-lry-Mnmy. An Arm»; Clmrmln.

The El: Virtual. Forth \‘nuuzv lmlin.

Tl". )rllhmnn u Hon-o, For Im- null".
Fuhlniuhln annlrolmanu. Fur tl‘rwu [Ark .
A Bay of 1': (Eyu). For olglu or )(‘II l'ulln [‘er

DIME DIALOGUE-‘8, F0. 5.

The Wov Thry Km 182ml. Malo- nrnl famnlu. ‘
I'l-o Pm: and" Dilloultlen. For ﬁve nnlu.
Willkm T-li, For n whole Icl‘Ml.

Th. Tm: l‘nmlms. Fur Ohm r I '--,
Thovrunriu nf Folly Fur ll numb "mu-la
\ mac nor-y'- Bonn. In" founde- I: .l w 0 mm; .‘

wanna“ 3 i952 Sn.» (mun and Na mnlan. The lel Suit M two {om-leg um on "‘1‘
#3 lam Gnl (in. Gluten. Mal. and {emu-I. WM Clint. rm a minivan a! burn,
a

fill-wu- -'- PM nix mnlot.

 
Chum-c PAM" 4hr Mural mu. m.
ﬂu 11m Rina; iv: lwl nub. ‘1

 
,/

DIME 803001. SERIESr-T'poaken and Dialogues.

 
nmn DIALECI'SPEAKER, No.23.

DAVI mt’l do mum-r, All about A lice, |Latest CMneau outrnreJMy neighbor‘s dagl,
Th: Mln ulppl mirncle, Scnmlnl, - Thu manila-v. damn;- unconcerned. Mythology,
Von to lldu comm ln, A dark lllll) vlew, I the lriuhnnm, Pnclns,
Dune luau vut Mnry hat Te peuer \‘m‘, ll’ezgy Mv Umm. Thy.- Naruldu, -
go: On lenrnin: I-‘ernmn, 'Sprnys from Julh Bil l Legrnda JAM“,
PM 6'Fluherty ya ‘70- \ler’e shmnllrvile lamb. hugs, Thu sluve-plye Urged,
mnn’n rlghu, A hunthy (liIcunrw, D1: cirrumsluncu ob do A (lakelm‘l .Irnhbln,
Thu llume rulers, how l‘o.ni I»! lu npenh, I sill-malnu, l‘he cmnlmznmn.
V thev “Apnken,” Uni .lrn. Grimm}, :Dnr’s nutﬁn new under The illixnnx aller u
Hezuklnh Dznnon on - lulrmly. ' 1 de um, .\lnl.lnnn'l,
Moll:an n-lnw, ‘\l:|rs nlhl run, A Nauru rellgiaun poem, That little baby round
’He didn’t lull .‘lm farm. ill], Underwood, pllot, (That violin the corner,
Tue hue Itory a! Frnnlp -)lrl Grnnluy, .l’lcnic drliy Its, A genewinn inference
lin’I Inn, l‘he plll peddler'l orn»‘()nr u- ndidnle’u vlews, An lnvilntinn to u.
I would 1 were n boy tiun, 5,1)nndrenry‘a Wlm’mln, bird of liberty,
lgaln, Wldder Green’l lnil Plnln lnnguuga by lrulh- The ernw,
A pathctlc nary, words, A lul Junu, 10m. we“.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 26.

Poor cnnllnl. Three lmllua nnrl two gentlemen. I’l‘he lclson of mercy. Twc very Im-ll Kirk.
\lounuim nml mnle-hllls. Six l Adieu nndsevaml l’mcliue what you preneh. Your ladiel.
~"t;-ect-utora. l’nliticlnn. Nnnwronu-hxrulen.
A ten that dld not full. Six how. The. cnnvnuing agent. ’l‘wo mnlu Ind two
Two ways on seeing things. Twn little girls. femnlu. *
Don’t count your chicken: hufnra the; ura Grnh. Twn mnlal.
hnclwl. Four [:nliu und a hay. A allphz scare. hrce femnln ll’ll‘l one mul
All inl'mrl x luve mnl mu. 3 India, 9 wmlemnn. [Enlhndl xl sum me. Three young lull“.
[low unclu Julh an: rhl r f the lezncy. Tm; mqu, lHow Jim [‘9er died. 'l‘wu mllu-
Aylth Iaverul tmnsbrmntionl. l

. DIME DIALOGUES No. 27. x ,

Pulley O'Dolvn‘: enmpalgn. For three nmle: The uroelglrl’agoml nngel. For two ladies u.
and one [mm c. two lilzlr, [1113.

Rally Inference: not nlwnyl in“. Numor am "Thu! nnurntulhl mu.- niuuerﬂ For two lulu.
bu) . ‘ _ ll 1 hnd the money. “or Ihne lanr ylrh.

Discuntantml Auule. For Iovernl zir a. Appenrnnccs nrv alucelll'ul. For Dev-ml lid!“

A double Anrprlle Four malt" and «no femula. nml one mlomnn.

Whm win It] For ﬁve ladies. Lm'c'a prolasl. For hm lillle girll.

Wlml wlll cure them! For a lndynnd two bnyu. An enlurced curt. For nrv-nl characters.

"Indupeudvnl. For numerous churncurn. Those who preach nnd thou who perform. Fol

Ench mva “when. For (our hon. thrve Inmlrs.

Tried and (nund wnnllng. Fur nevernl anlll'l. A gentle cunqnut. For two young glrh.

A boy’s plot. Fm bevernl chm-note".

DIME DIALOGUES No. 2B.

A can that tnld. For le young indies and IwolNo room for the drone. Furrthreo mm 1701!.
gentlemen. Arm-chair. For nnnmmul rhnrm‘lou.

Orgnnillng n dnbnllng Ioclcty. For four boyl. Measure for mature. For {0le girll.

Thu mvnlunlng. ‘nr fun! llltl-s glrll. Sued hy a «lrcnzn. For two man And A‘

The rehuka proper. For 3 Rantlnmen. 9 ladlel. females.

Exnrclllnz ml evil i: For m lmlh-I An inl‘nllihle nign. For {our hnyu.

Boll. (lei of the fem . For {our mule A good me {or mom-v, For >lx llxlln glrll.

13’“ up rlu of the wood. For qu troupe- of glrll. An ngreenblu profusion. For levernl ell-unholy.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 29.

Who Ihnll hnvo the vll :tlonnry! l-‘ur nix lyplcnl Simplo Slmnn. For {om nun bovl. .rn
male chm-note" and two funnleu 'l‘h-e "d llght. For {our nlnh-I, :wn famnlu.

The mt «f hrnrr)‘. Fur ['nnr hay» and teacher. The l\\'ccla)‘l. thought. For lour little zlrll.

Fortnnu’l whval. For [var mule chnrncters. ’ ‘hu lnlnn an monnn. 6 lmliu. l zenllzmm.

The little mullet“. For nlx lilllc girls. [Three I'm a l'uols. For four small bnvl. ‘

The _\u and no nI'Imoke. For three lilllo bnyl. Ban am a! thn dogl Fur three lndlu and ill".

No references. Slx gentlemen nnd three lnrlluu. “dudzern.” ‘

An mnnzlng good hov. One mule, nne (cunnlo. Jna Hunt’s hunt. For two boyl md two glrll. ’ ,

What. a vlnltnlon did. For uverul lull“. Rugs. For le males. ’

I [3' The the" book: an nold by Nawululm overywhm, or wlll hp uni, pod-paw, ton,
lid“, on mipt ol yrice, In con“ cub. 1. ‘
" 'anE a nuns, rum-hen. as wwu... 3n, :1. ‘r. ‘

’ \

 
watwmrmvmwmwm u

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‘1; Tho Gunm-
9116 main-m.
‘11" Ban. 1113 Truppor.
3‘18 Wild Rum.
$119 Th. snoctar Chlel.
00 The ll nr-Killer.
‘ ‘21 Wild Nut.

:1
2
'I
‘

tho Runpr.

{0 Tu par.
d, the . py.
n

130 .1; a 'e.

' :ll Th. Myrtle Canoe.
o3! Thu Gnlden lepoon.
.183 n. Sculp King.

. 134 Old Lute.

$135 Rulnbnlt, Rnyzer.

:l :6 Thu Boy maxim.
{3'1 Cnnnn, the Guide.
'38 Th. Heart Euler.

89 “'elzol, the Scout.

40 Th. Hugo Humor.

41 Wild Nut, Trnppur.
‘42 Lvnxrmp.

' v4: The White Oullnw.
' 44 Th. Dog Trailer.

. 45 The Elk King.
ads Adrian, the Pilnl.
147 Tho Man-humor.

‘ ‘0 Th. Wnli Queen.
. 51 Tum Huwk Trailer.
E :2 Thu Mild chm.

53 Thu Bluk Wolf.

Ark-un- Juk.

. Bllckbnlrd.

Th0 Rivcr Elﬁn.

Hunter Hum.

Cloudwood.

Tho Tax“ Hnwkl.

60 Mercilau MM.‘
'nny'l Sunni!

u Trnper.

The Fluridl .,cou¢.

'l‘lu lullnd Tr-ppor.

.' VVolf-Cnp.

Hamlin Dlek.
Shnrp- yo.
Iron-Hind.

. The Yellow Hunter.
Th0 Phantom ridcr.
Dnluvuro Tom.
Silver Rlﬂa.

The Skoluon Scout.
Litlll Rlﬂu.
The “'00:! “’ltch.
Old Ruff. Trl per.

7‘1 Sclrlct Shoul I11.

78 Border Riﬂemln.

'19 ()u‘llw Juli.

80 TlgIr-Tnll, Saminolo.

81 DenthrDenlar.

82 Konton, the Rungcr.

83 S oclar Hnr .

N Tie Threo 'l rlpperl.
Knleollh.
The Hunter Herculel.
Phil Hunter.
The Indiun Smut.
The Girl Amnpr.
The Red Hermite".
Slur-Face», the Slayer.
Th. Ann-101w Bay.
The Plnnhul Hunter.
Turn Pinile. Pil 1.
Thu Red “'irurri.
The Rivul Trappcn.
The quxuw Spy.

V Dusky Dirk.

{‘9 Cnlnnrl l‘rucklii.

Inn Old Burr l‘nw.

101 Renlluw.

111‘) \Vild Ruhe.

10K The Imlinn lilllierl.

104 Sclrrml l‘inzle.

105 Nick I1u\lo.

106 The Indian Spy.

 
101 Job Donn.

103 The “'ood King.

10% Th. Stained Hunt-r.
110 Nick. tho Scout.

111 The Texnl T1 or.
112 The Ground nlvu.
118 Tiger—H |

114 Mnked Aunger.
115 The Purl Ply-l“.
116 Black Punlhor.

117 Ahdiol,theAven[u.
118 Cnlo. the Group".
119 Two-ilnndud Mu.
1‘10 Mnd Trlll Humor.
191 Bluk Nick.

1"! Kit Bird.

1” Thu Spockr Rldcrl.
1‘24. Giant Pete.

1’35 Th. Girl Clplnln.
126 Ynnku Eph.

m sum-pm.

19" S ulnar Dick.

129 ’1‘ a Child Spy.

130 Mink Colt.

121 Red I’lnmc.

13'1 Clyde, tho Trnller.
133 The Lou (inrh‘.

13‘ The Cannibll Chinf.
135 Knrlibo.

1311 Srlrlel Mnccuin.
m Kidnapped.

138 Mnld uf (In Moun-

tun.

139 The Scintn Srnnil
1‘0 Barder Renaud!!-

‘ 141 Thu Muiu (Shirl.
11‘1 Buone, lhc Hunk .
H3 Mountain Rule.
144 Tm Rail Srnljwr.
145 Thu Lone (‘hicﬂ
146 The Sllvur Bugle.
141 ChlnzuY ChI}‘-lll\€.
148 The Tangled Trnil.
149 The Unneen llnnd.
150 The Lone lndimv.

15? Billy llowlegr.

153 Thu anluy Scout.
1154 Red Juckﬂ.

155 The Jungle Scout.
156 Cherokee Chivf.

151 The Bundit Hu-rruil.
15: The Patriot Scauu.

 
j 159
160

l

161
16

‘ 168

164

Z 165
‘ 1“

167
108
16'
170
1'11
172
173
17‘
1'15

178
113

The Wood Ring"-
Thc Rod Foo.
Huntlful Unknown.
Cunahnka Mono.
Hunk, the Guide.
The Border Scout.
W'lld Nu.

Mlld of “'yornln .
Tho Thru Clpﬁvu.
Tho Lon! Hunt-r.
Bordar Law.

The Lift-d Tr-il.
Th. ’l'rudnr Spy.
The Forul Speclcr.
The Border Foes.
Border Vengeance.
Bordor Bel-1e.

Tho Sum of leorty.
Tho Lon Bridc.
Keenan.

Th. Tonluuu Spy.
Th. Prnlria Scour".
Rad Li liming.
Brn‘u iurt.

' lehlvlhwk Kit.

1“
WI
mi
1k?
190
191
19‘)
19:1
LN
1‘35
196

19'!
198

199
900

. ‘10]
151 Thu Brnndud Chief. '

'21")
903
‘10-1
9415
906

9 l

 
0
908

Mummz Sam.
Hurricane Bill.

The, Red Outlaw.
Th9 Swamp Sconl.
Tlu- Shawner‘l Foo.
Mohawk Nat.

()lrl Jupa.

The l’rnlrie Rim-I.
(11d Kyle, Trnlleh
Big Foot. ‘11: Gulda.
Red Brotherhood.
The Man in Green.
Gluu-Eyu, the (Gr-A“
Slmt.

The Prulrla Trapper!
Hlncl: John, lho
Rnnil—Apnt.
Keen-Knife.

Mud Skipprr.

The Young Spy.
The ludinn Avanpr.
Rival Lleutpnlnln.
The Swnnip Riﬂvn.
T r Bullnon Sr nil.
Ducnlnli Smurzr.
The Twin Scan“.
Bucklkin Bill.

Burder Avengers. By Edward Will-u. Randy June 27th.
Bumble'l Charge. rn. MnryA Denisnm Rendanl lllh.

Shawnee Scent. By lnnle)‘ Henderson. Randy July 95th.

silent Slayer. Bv Vi J.Humillou. Randv Augustﬂlh.

Prairie Queen. Bv W. J. Hamilton. Read}: Auzuui 29d.
Backwoods-men. l'h' Alu Benll. Rrur‘ly Septuuhgr sch.

1 Th Prinuner of Ln "intro-he. thiirn. MnryA. Denison.
216 Pele Smith. Br Buvnlon H Belknn D, .i. D. Read“ Orlobar 3d.
917 The Itch of the “'nllowiuh.
218 The Prnlrle l’lrnten.

he [lunar Ca tnln.

 
Re-dy Sapirmber 1991:.

y Edwin F Iwinz. Randy Oelolwr 17th.
Hy Gustavo Aimnrd. 1y ()cu-her 3151.
By Colonel Prentls- [mu-1mm. Ready November Nth.
py. y 1‘. Humilznn Myorn. Randy Nurembrr em.
I Dlrk Darling. By Captain Frederirk_“'blltaker. Ready December 19th.
1 The Multan: Hunter-I. Bv Captain Frederick Whitaker. Randy Dccornbcr with.
228 Guilty or Not Guilty. 3:; . 111. Ann E. Porter. Ready January 91h.
3‘4 The outlaw Ranger. By Joseph E. Bxdger, Jr. Rudy Jnnnnry iad.

Noun-39 ﬂan-4,94. a.» i ..

For ulc by all Nowadenleru; or uni. pout-paid: Ilngle numberl, kn cents; le month (11 NM.) $1.26
an yur (9‘ Non.) 02.50.

BEADLE AN“ ADAMS, PnblI-llers. 98 Wllliall Itroct. New York.

' .-