\ 3 ~ ‘ \~ i ‘ ' :f t ‘i‘ \ A \ ~ \ »\ g 2. \® \. v x .\ 1 ‘ . \\ \ _ x. ~- \* \\\ WNWNWN WK \mx gfi \\\\\§\\ \Ww k . , _ \x V .\\ x _ _ ____ 7*. ‘ -»~ III“MIMI1h.mmmlmll-Hmum. , H n ‘ II1 III Ill ill [II M Ill III III ll] ill IIHIH II ll in NH 2 m . Copyrighted, 1884, by Bun“ AND Ann”. Enwwd M (M Pam ()fl‘wv at N~-w York, N. ' ‘ mml Clnss Mun Mull". August lit, MN. Published Weokl b Beadle and Adsms r , VOL 111' “Effig- No. 98 Wnluxysm NEW YORK. ' Phi-rag“. NO. 31. NIGHTINGALE NA :°"35%§¥—if§ims' Nightingale N at. Nightingale Nat; it, THE FOREECAPTAINS. BY 1 c. HARBAUGH, Airman or “ NICK 0‘ THE NIGHT,” HIDDEN LODGE,” ETC., ETC. “ ma CHAPTER I. SINGING THE TRAIN INTO DANGER. " I love to sing till the wild woods ring! 0! ho! 0‘ ho! Till the leaves are stirred, and eve Dreams of the wondrous song he's 0! hol hol hol" IT was the clear barytono voice of a boy singing in the dark forest that bordered one of the wild rivers whose waters, after many miles of tortu- ous traveling, loae themselves in the immensity of Lake Superior. He made the woods ring) with his musical notes, and it may easily be elieved that many a Ilee lng bird was constrained to lift a drowsy head rom beneath a good warm wing, and lis- ten to the song of their new rival. The singer was seated astride of an ox which, with his yoke-fellow, was slowly drawing a clumsy wagon over a horrible road, if we in: y be permitted to designate the forest trail by that name, in this day of pikes and macadam- izod thoroughfares. The sun had de arted for the day, and the woods were enjoy mg the short twilight which rendered the objects quite indistinct among the ghostly trees. The youth evidently had charge of the team, for his ruddy hands held a heavy driver’s whip which he did not use, for he had transferred himself to Buck’s back. His “whoa-hawsl” like his wild song, were full of nature’s music. He was a natural singer. Clad in a light- reen jacket which boasted of a shoulder cape o a darker shade of the same color, and close-fitting gra pantaioons which were tied around the auk es, and just above rather fantastic moccasins, the boy presented a real woodland appearance. He wore no cover- ing on the head. Indeed, he needed none, so far as the ques‘ion of warmth was concarnéd, for his hair was very abundant, and though in— clinedtocurl fell gracefully upon the emerald ca 9 above mentioned. e could, besides his wealth of hair which was very dark. boast of a full ruddy fees indicative of a healthful constitution, and a pair of spark- ling eyes that were full of good humor. Such a boy would never die of the blues. A noise before him told that one or more wagons were in advance, pushing northward, while the occasional crack of a whip behind an- nounced the presenco of others. bird card i The voicas ahead were those of rough, irrita! ted men, and at times the ruggedness of the road made the air quiver with the curses that fell from their lips. . At these times, and they were not infrequent, the oxen came in for a good heating by the hickory handles of the whips. In the midst of these difficulties the oung Nightingale continued to fill the forest th the echoes of his wonderful voice, and the hand of some unseen spirit, pleased with his humor, seemed to gui e his vvhvels. For they struck few rats, and the boots of the patient OXen did not descend into the unseen holes, which were continually best-tting the beasts attached to the foremost wagons. Verin the Nightingale was the protege of some good genius. ‘ “Herel the cap'n says we’ve had enough of this screechin’!” suddenly cried a rough vmce at the boy’s side, and he felt himself almost jerked from his perch. The refrain at that time falling from his lips was ruthlessly snapped in twain. “ Well, if the captain sa 3 so, I am willing to stop,"meekly answered t e singing boy, look- lng down upon the burly fellow who had de- livered the “ca ’n's” command. “But I do not see why a fellbw shouldn’t be allowed to ex- ercise l'is‘ ungs in these parts. Was I singing louder than the men are swearing where the captain is?” he boy’s eyes snapped with the spirit of in- dependence. “The cap’n didn‘t send me back hyar to an- swer a passel of tomfool questions. He wants you to stop singin’, an’"—-the man’s hand fell ike a trip-hammer on the gray breaches—J‘ an‘ if you don’t stop, I’m to make you.” “Who said I was not going to stop!” asked the Nightingale, the merr twinkle returning to his eyes. “ The captain s all not hear me again to-night. I always try to obey him, and if I do transcend his orders, it is because I forget them in m eagerness to sing. Now don’t you think this is true. Zimril” “ P’raps,” the man said tartly and with a scowl. “You sing eternally too much. If we gir. into an Injun muss, I’d like to know what you’d amount to.” “Try me!” was the quick reply. “I ’spect we’ll hev that chance aforelong. It’s n long way yet to the mining country. Our oxm may be shot full of arrows ag’in’ to—morrow night, an" we—sculped, p‘raps.” The man looked up with triumph, as if he had expected to frighten the boy: but his counte- nance fell into the slough of chagrin when he did not discover a sign of fear on the youthful face. It retained its ruddy color. “I’m goin’ hack to the cap’n now," he said, resolving to hide his failure by a hasty retreat. “Now mind you, little Nat. no more screechin‘ to night. The cap’n a’in’t in the best of humors nohow. It‘s him what’s doin’ most of the swear- in' ahead.” With this the man left the boy and passing beyond the horns of the oxen, was soon lost among the shadows that concealed the foremost w ons. “ Captain Lige hasn’t been very happy these six days past, ' the musical prodigy muttered. “He is afraid that he will not get all the gold that they say is to be found along ‘the shore of the big lake. Sometimes I think that some-' thing besides the love for gold brought him into \- Nightingale Nat. ,_ 3' these woods, for didn’t the people tell us before we struck these woods that the ore was copper and not gold? But Captain Lige said that they lied, and here we are, creeping north toward Lake Superior. Maybe I did wrong in coming along: but i guess I couldn’t well help myself. I’m in for it now at any rate, and I’ll face the music as it comes.” A moment’s silence followed the boy’s low words, and then. unable to re ress the music which like a well-spring flows from his heart, he began to drum with the whip on the horns of the ledding ox. “W ien a fellow can’t sing he can think the son over!” he said to himself, with asmile. “ B ess me! if I wouldn’t like to give a concert in these woods! But ust wait till I get to the lake! Blossoms and owersl but I’ll make the old shores ring. The captain will have to gag me if he wants me still there i" The lake‘shorel Ni htingale Nat did not think, in the midst of is castlebuilding, that he might never see the pictured rocks of Supe- 1101‘. All at once the drummin ceased, for the curses of the men ahead fai ed to salute the boy bird’s ears, and instead, there rung in them a strange, rough voice which he knew he had never before heard. It seemed to denote danger to the train. “ Get ready to fight!” cried a man who passed Nat at a quick pace, and ghost-like vanished toward the rear of the column. “ That we will!” said the boy as be tossed the whip forward upon the yoke, and slid (fulcle - from the beast. “ Wasps and crickets! didn’t look for a brush so soon, but it seems that we’re in for it. Well, we’ll give the reds the best we’ve got in the train.” As he uttered the words he hastened to the wagon and drew forth a rifle. Then he slung pouch and powder-horn over his head, and took is station at the heads of the oxen, which, at his command, had come to a halt. “They’ll be down upon usina minutel"he heard the voice of the man who had passed him say. “ The woods to the right ar’ full of ’em. The cap’n says ‘ flght,‘ but this is a pretty place to corral the wagons, I‘m thinkin’." The man was coming back. “Who brought the news. Jacki" asked the boy as the trainman came in sight. “ I heard a strange .voine down where the captain is.” “An' a strange critter is the man what owns it," was the reply. “’Pon my word, Nat, you never see'd such a felier. Well hev to wait till daylight to see whether he’s a white man. Oh, we rein fur it. He says that they‘re not fur ofl an‘—I didn’t stay to hear all his gab. Cuss the day we sot out fur the lake! Why, thar’s no more gold tbar than tbar’s in my eye.” “ That is what I think. Jack. But we must— n't whimper Over spilled milk, not even when the pitcher is broken. “ Ofcourse not; but the cap'n- " The man did not get to finish his sentence for Zimri Paddock made his appearance on the scene and “ughvthe boy rudely by the arm. “The cap'n wants to see you i" he said in a ‘one that boded the youth no good. “ It wasn‘t hard to tell that your infernal screechin’ would git us into trouble. Wh couldn’t you keep Ker tongue to yerself’l he snake wouldnt now whar the cat~bird's nest is if it wasn’t fur her squealin’.” Before the boy could reply, he found himself jerked forward by the brutal man, who in a few words told Jack to guard the team until relieved by orders. At an inconsiderate pace Ni htingale Nat was hurried toward the head of t e train, from which came the voices of the men in conversa- tion. He knew that the captain was in a passion, for sundry expressions, more emphatic than elegant, told him this, and he expected to encounter a simoom of rage wlzere that worthy s . “Here’s the blatant brat!” cried a strongly- built and dark featured man as be sprung u on the youth who was released by Paddock, w en he saw that he had attracted the attention of the roup. “Time and again I have told him to bridle his tongue; but he would sing. Here he is, sir. Come forward and look at the bird.’ The captain’s last words were addressed to a gaunt s ecimen of humanit whose shaggy head loo ed in the dim light like a lion’s, perch- ed, and out of place, upon the shoulders on a man. The quaint personage took a long stride for- ward, nnd from beneath a tangled mass of long eyebrows fastened his gaze u n the boy. “ Why he’s a leetle one!” e said in a mu h, uncultivated. but not unkind voice. “ Is t is the bird what 1 board so far from the wagons?” “Yes!” grated Captain Rough—a name which he wore will) credit to his nature. “This is the bird. Wait! I’ll shake his plumage up a little.” Hard upon the last rough words, Nightingale Nat was Jei'ked suddenly from the ground, and shaken so furiously by the captain of the train that his rifle fell from his grasp! “That’s what I call shaking hisglumage up a little!" said Rough, as he release the boy and turned with a grin of brutal delight upon the uncouth visitor. Nat staggered when released. It seemed to him that the captain had icesened every bone in his body. “ He’s the scamp what is bringing the outlaws and Indians down u n us with his singing!" Rough continued. “ £12m me! if I’m done With him yet. Thc fiends will not attack us for ten minutes. Paddock, where’s a whip!" The next instant a heavy ox-whip'was thrust into the captain‘s hand, and with an oath he pushed his right sleeve above the elbow. “Stand still, there i” he cried to the boy who involuntarily shrunk toward the wagons as he caught sight of the cruel whip in the hand of Rough. “ Move. if you dare! and b my life! 1’“ cut your chicken-threat the first b ow.” White-faced now, Nightingale Nat halted and looked around. The faces of the members of the caravan did not exhibit any signs of pity. While few show- ed evidences of glee at the expected punish- ment, more than one was artial y averted. It was evident that Captain ugh ruled supremo over the train. , 4 Nightingale Nat. ‘ I’ll touch him to sing the enemy down upon us!" grated the brute as the heavy lash de- scribed a circle around his head. “Yes, my friend—" There was the sudden darting of a figure for ward, and the uncouth invader of the train planted himself firmly like a rock beforevthe threatened boy. “Don’t you hit the lactic one!” he cried, put- ting forth his long arm while his keen eyes sent Bpnrks of fire from their dark caverns. “I reckon as how no giant hes a right to whip a dwarf. He didn’t know thet it war wrong to sing in these parts. Music is in him, an' it bed to come out: that’s all.” Captain Rough dropped the uplifted whip, and. with a face livid with rage, started back. His eyes were riveted upon the interferer in his sport. “Who are you!” he almost yelled. “And what 'do you know about the boy!" “Auswerin’ your last question first, I say ‘nothin”l” was the reply. “I an) Old Shadow- Shot at your survive, an’ by the snakes of the woo 3! I‘ll kill the first man what te'ches the leetle one in my presence. That’s me, and I mean business l” Nightingale Nat, with a look of deep grati- tude, crept closer to the strange being. CHAPTER II. '1'ch vumunns or THE woons. “mei Jau’t you fellows stop quarreling for a moment so a person can hear something?” At the edge of a dense forest, not very far from the scene of the incidents just narrated, a company of men, mostly Indians, were, with two exceptions, seated statuelike on the backs of horses whose hanging heads proclaimed them considerably jaded. “There it is again!" said the speaker, after a moment of silence. “ That is the voice of some one singing. We are going to strike the train to—night.” At the mention of a train the horsemen lift- ed their heads, and eagerness flashed in their 9 yes. “ Cap’n, do you think it is whar that chap is singin’?” It was a dark-faced, uncouth individual who put this question. “There is just where it is and nowhere else," was the reply. “Cap’n Rough would not allow it, I Was thinkin’. Doesn’t he know that he's in adan- gerous kentry!” “ He had ought to. But, as he has advanced so far without accident, I suppose he thinks that he will get on to the copper country without trouble.’ “Poor fool!” sneered the rough man. “Cap’n, whar‘s the train what has passed over this trail unteched?" A curious smile played with the cruel lips of the man called cap‘n. Ay, where was the train which had paSsed through the Wisconsin forest unscathei. to the wonderful copper mines of Lake Su erior? The Vultures of the woods had fa len upon it when in the midst of fancied security, and left t but ruins of wagons and bones of oxen and men to mark the spot of the fatal swoop! “You’re right, Rafe! where is the one?" “Its name is nary," was the answer, accom- panied bya malicious chuckle that sounded like the chatter of wolflsh teeth. “But, Cap’n Dave, you can’t hear the song now.” i “No, it grew still suddenly, just as If Captain Rough had put his hand over the singer’s mouth. The train is just ahead of us now.” “ Sartain, cap’n?" “Certainly, I am.” Then the last speaker turned to the dark fig- ures behind him. - r " Get ready!” he said, in a tone of command. “A rich prize is jogging slowly over the trail, and we’ll strike it near the place where we struck Collyer’s party." “ Great Caesar! ca ’n, I wish you hadn‘t said a word about that races,” said the man called Rafe as his hand fell on Captain Dave’s-arm. “ Pshawl you’ll get out of your ghosty notions before you die, old boy,” the brigand said, with a sneer. “ I never think of that little brush, and I never trouble myself about the things that frighten you. “Let me tell you, Rafe, and I say it in a low tone, for I don’t want the rest .of the boys to hear.” The bandit lowered his voice as he leaned toward the dark—faced man. “ Well, out with it, cap’n!" “ I am ashamed of you; indeed, I am, Rafe. I don’t want to tell you so before the boys. I tell you that nobody escaped from Collyer’s train! “ Nobody, cap'n?" ejaculated the bandit ' openin his eyes with incredulity. “ Wha about t e gal?" “ Oh, there wasn’t a. girl in the train i” said the leader, with a forced smile. “ Are you goinz to harp about it all your life? I was there, and when I say there was no girl in the train, why. there wasn’t. That settles it.” “ Mebbe it does and mebbe it doesn’t,” blurt- ed the unconvinced Vulture; “ mebbo I wasn’t there that night, or p'r'aps I went into the muss with my eyes shut, an‘ didn’t open ’em until it was over.” The captain of the forest scourges hit his lip. “ It is no use!” he said. st aightening up in a pet of chagrin. “ You’re ound to have your own way, and have it and be hanged.” “ Not so fast, Cap’n Dave!" and the speaker's eyes shot a malicious gleam at his leader. “ I’ve b>en your right bower fur five years right In these woods. and when I say that there was a gel with Collyer’s train when we struck it, why there was—that’s all!” There was no reply to this, and the next moment the freebooter’s hand athered u the rains as he turned to the mam body 0 his force: ' “ Ready!" he said. “ Now let us be ofl. It is a richer prize than Collyer’s train was. It IIIIIS'i he ours before morning.” There was a quick gathering of reins, and the spot where the outlaws had halted was soon (‘19- serted. The two brigands who were exchanging some high words when the strange forest song reach- ed their captain’s ears separated Without I, A ‘ ___.~—-~_,, Nightingale Nat. ‘ 3 word; but their looks told that they would re- sume the quarrel at the first opportunity. it was evident to the man that rode at the head of the party that the train was not far away. Let us look at him as he appeared in the twiv light of that eventful day. He was a very frontier Apollo. Though in the neighborhood of his thirtieth year, he looked likea man of tWenty-three or four. A roud and shapely head sat regally on broa and massive shoulders. The dark eyebrows over- arched a pair of deep, gleaming orbs, which could appear as soft as the eyes of a gazelle, at their possessor’s bidding. His hair, black as the lustrous eyes, was closely cropped, and the 1in, at once sensual and firm, were more than half-hidden b a heavy yet silken mustache. The body reveale by the close-fitting suit of gray with no ornament save a Mexicandike capote was faultless from chin to boots, and the hand that held the rein seemed fitted for the count- ing room, and not for the handling of pistol and gun. A wide-hrimmed hat set on his head in devil-may—care style completed the bandit’s appearance. His white followers were similarly but not so well clad, and the Indians wore leggings, and, with one or two exceptions, a coarse buckskin jacket or hunting-frock. This was the band dreaded by adventurers and miners en route to the inexhaustible cop per mines of Lake Superior. Its terrible forays ad been told beyond the Wisconsin woods, and a few trains, knowing its accredited haunts, had skirted the dreary Shores of the up )er lakes, and, escaping the rifles and tomahaw s of the Indians, had reached the mining country in safety. But that route was long, toilsome and exhausting, and many who resolved to try the shorter one and run “the risk of being attacked by the bandits, discovered, when it was too late, that the long way was the better one. None knew anything about the identity of the handsome man, called Captnin Dave by his men. Occasionally a sensational journalist, seated in some cosey city sanctum, tried to con- nect him with the young bank cashier who mysteriously disappeared between two days; or proved conclusively, to himself at least. that he Robin Hood of the Northwest was the young Spanish hida'go who flashed for awhile in avenue society, and then fled after kniflng a rival, to turn bandit and terrorize a romantic land. If they did not demonstrate their theories to the satisfaction of their readers, they filled several columns, and that was something. Pushing through the woods with the young outlaw slightly in the rear. the cavalcade moved with much caution. Rifles resting carelessly across the pommels of saddles obtained by some night attack upon a rich train, were grasped by determined hands as ever wielded the deadly weapon. Captain Dave did not speak to the man who rode at his side and never took his eyes from his face. “Don’t I know that there was a gal in Co]- lyer’s train?" chuckled the man, who was Rafe Armstrong, already introduced to the reader. “Eat my cap’n, you may say that'you settled the matter when you as there warn’t; but that doesn’t settle it by a ong shotl Fire and furios! did I go into the train yelpin‘ likeadevil with my eyes shat? Didn’t I see the gal crawl under the wagon what the oxen overturned when they fell over, an’ when I went to look for her, arter the fray wasn’t she clean gone? These are facts, my Cup’n Dave, which are gospel, an’ mebbe, besides thet, Funk an’ me didn’t see the gal—or sunthin’ mighty like a female cree‘ tur‘—runnin’ into the bush when we war tryin’ old Collyer himself." The hrigand seemed to enjoy his communion with self. It relieved him vastly, and he looked as if he had Convinced the forest Apollo in a straight-forward argument. “ Hist!" - Instantly every rein was tightened, and the bandits looked eagerly forward. The curses of men and the whips cracking over the heads of the plodding oxen were falling dis- tinctly upon their ears. The position of the train was now closely re- vealed and the hrigands were eager to attack. “ Put on the mufflers!" Captain Dave said in a low tone, and a stout buck-skin sack was quick- ly thrust over the mouth of each horse. ” Hev they got any horses, cap’n’!” ventured Armstrong. “ it is not likely that Captain Rough would embark for the mines without them, ’ was the re )lV. ’ith less speed and increased caution, the for st fflt s crept upon the train. 'I‘hcy huml it come too sudden halt which caused an rxpression of anxiety to flit across the brinund’s face, and when signs of commo- tion lirt'allle apparent, helooked around intothe dark features of his men. “ Something’s wrong!" he whispered. “We have been betrayed.” “ The gal i" said Armstrong, ominously. “Ca ’n, she—3’ “ hat will do!” was the interruption, as the speaker’s eyes flashed a halefnl light upon the venturesome man. “I will not put up with your infernal fears any longer. Rafe Al‘lll‘ strong, you can do one of two things, and that right now. You can leave me forever, or rom- ise to keep your mouth shut in the future. ’ “ Do you mean it, cap’n l" “I mean nothing else i” was the firm reply. “ What are you going to do? Open your mouth and say quickly.” “ I‘ve been with you high onto five fyears,” said Armstrong. “ We’ve been good riends, Cap’n Dave—" ‘ No preliminaries!” interrupted the leader of the brigands, out of patience with the man. “We can’t stag here and listen to a long rig— marole of not ing. Goi or keep your mouth shut." “ As long as I stay with you, cap'n ?" “ So long as that.” “ I can’t do it! it’s impossible. By my beard! I will not keep m mouth shet for any man 1" With uplifted and the bandit chief pointed into-the depths of the forest, from which they had lately emerged. . “ I understand the p’intin’, cap‘n," Rafe Arm» g». . 1!. e Nightingale Nat. strong said, with a vicious twinklin of his deeply-buried eyes. “When a man wil prom- ise to keep his mouth shet, when he knows he can‘t, he oughter to be tied to a horse's tail. Oh, I’m goin’, Cap’n Dave. Mebbe you’ll wish by an’ by thet you’d let old Rafe have a little tongue run. The gal will prove that I wasn’t blind thet night, mind this, Cap’n Devel” Steadin that hand pointed to the west, and Rafe Armstrong wheeled his horse. “ Good-by, boys!" he said, as he rode through the group of astonished men. “I won’t uit talkin’ for any livin’man. This isn’t the est you’ll see of Rafe Armstrong, I‘m thinkin’.” The white bandits, to the number of six or eight, muttered “good-by," and the Indians nodded, but did not speak. Slowly the deserter disa peered among the shadows, watched with con icting emotions by the man who had blide him go. “ If it hadn’t been for the noisel” he murmur- ed, significantly, “ there would be blood on his saddle now,” and then he turned to his remain- ing men: “ Let nobody succor him i“ he said, mercilesr ly. “We are better off without the gahbler.” The party advanced again. At the leader’s side rode an athletic and evil-faced Indian. “ Ride ahead and leave usl" the young bandit said to this red-skin in en undertone. “You know what to do. Follow him with caution, and see that he is as dead as a stone before you come back to me." A meaning nod from the savage told that the words were understood, and he rode ahead. The white bandits seemed to divine the move and exchanged looks, but said nothing. They knew that their chief had thrown one of the most cautious and malicious scarlet fiends of the Northwest upon Rafe Armstrong’s trail. Heaven help the deserter, if Sharp Knife sought his life. On, on still went the cavalcade. It crept upon the train, and strange voices, which seemed at variance, came to their ears. “The ’re havingaquarrel among themselvesl” the lea er of the bandits whispered gleefully to his men. “ Now, ready!" The clicking of thirty rifle-locks was heard. A moment’s silence followed the deadly sound, and then a deafening volley was poured upon the train. “Chargel” shouted Captain Dave. “Down with the copper thieves!" It was a Wild moment, for, like thunderbolts, the Vultures of the woods fell upon the train. CHAPTER III. a HAND 0N nar’s THROAT. THE onslaught of the outlaws upon the train occurred at the moment when Nightingale Nat, having heard Shadovv—Shot’s determined words, crept closer to him for that protection which they promised. As might be expected, the volley, though fired almost at random, threw the adventurers into a. confusion which seemed from the first destined to prove disastrous to them. Fortunately no one was hit, but several bullets found a lodgment in the bodies of the faithful oxan, which, plun ng with pain, OVerturned the wagons, and a dad to the uproar. “Down with the copper thieves!” yelled the fiends, who dashed through the dim light upon the train. The explorers immediately sprung to arms. Nightin ale Natnpgcked up the rifle which the brutal aptain ugh had shaken from his grasp, and sprung instantly to the side of his uncouth protector, whose eyes flashed with the light of forest battle. “ Stan’ by me, leetle one i” cried Shadow-Shot glancing at the boy. “ We’re in fur it now, an‘ ’m thinkin' thet thar’ll be some toes turned up to the sky afore the stars go down i” A few shots which emptied several saddles answered the initial volley, and then the greater part of the train—men, seized by a sudden panic, fled ingloriously from the fray. After all, Cap- tain Rough’s followers were for the most part, quite unused to ‘dance with death,‘ and almost instinctiVel fled from it. Shadow hot saw the desertion and gritted his teeth. “The skunksl” he hissed, derisively. “ Leetle one, they‘ll leave us alone presently. No use fightin‘ the wood cats, an’ fur sech a scamp as yer capt’in. But wait! thar‘s one feller what needs a leaden pill.” The long rifle struck the speaker’s shoulder, and the report that followed the action sent a white plunderer headlong from one of the wagons. It was a death shot. “ Look!" suddenly cried the boy. grasping the ranger’s arm and pointing excitedly to the right. “What does that mean! Captain Rough and that outlaw are friends.” “ The—old Harry!” ejaculated Shadow-Shot, starting at the picture exhibited to his gaze. “Sech scamps ought to be friends; but, I’ll make one of em friendless. Yer rifle, boy." “ No! no!" said the boy, withholding the weapon for which the great bronzed hand of the ranger was eagerly reaching. “ Don’t shoot Captain Rough now. He knows something that he must tell one of these davs!” m‘l‘lguthin’ about you, leetle one? Well, he shall The speaker’s lips closed firmly behind the last word. " They’re lookin' fur us—them two devils! it ar’ lucky, p’raps, that we’ve escaped so long!" Believing that the flight of the train-men had left the train com letely in their power, as in- deed it had, the Vu tures had fallen to plunder- ing. With that insatiate greed which charac- terizes brutes of their stamp, they were ran- sackin the wagons, caring for nothing save the few va uables which were thus ofi'ered to them. The shadows and the greed of the outlaws had providentially screened Shadow-Shot, and his young protege from observation. The shooting of the man on the wagon had not drawn their attention to the slayer. The others no doubt deemed him slain by some lingering miner who had delivored the shot before joining his com- panions in flight. Well might the sight to which Nightingale Nat called Shadow—Shot’s attention cause that worthy to start. Nightingale Nat. 7 Ca tain Rough was shaking hands with Cap- tain vs the outlaw! “ Birds of a feather!” the ranger said, looking at the twain. “We’ll clip their wings afore 101,15, p’raps. Come with me, leetle one!” he boy was nothing 10th. With Shadow~Shot he would be beyond the reach of Captain Rough’s brutality. He would find a protector in the person of the old ranger, and he did not hesitate to follow. The two plunged into the forest. Side by side they pushed Into the darkenin depths; the boy holding trustingly to the her hand of his protector, and keeping pace with his long and rapid strides. “ Hyar we are i” said Shadow-Shot as he came to a sudden halt. Nat looked wonderingly into his face. “I want you to stay hyar till I come back," the ranger continued. “ The hole is big enough to hold your carkiss, I guess.” What hole! The boy saw before him the dark trunk of a great tree, and closer scrutiny revealed an a rture about four feet from the ground; but it did not look large enough to admit his body. “It held me oncel" the ranger said, noticing the youth’s incredulous look. “Hyarl 1’" lift you into the place. Plenty of air, boy. and room at the bottom. I’ll be back soon. Thar‘s suthin’ I want to find out back yonder at the wagons. Thar’s new deviltry afoot in these parts, an’ Shadow-Shot will have new enemies from this hour, I’m thinkin’." Trusting with all the confidence of a erson of his few years, Nightingale Nat allow him- self to he lifted bodily from the ground, and soon found himself snugly ensconced in the novel place of concealment. ' “ No New in these parts.” were the last words that the ranger said to the boy, and then the sound of footsteps which rapidly grew indistinct saluted Nat’s ears. Shadow-Shot had departed, and he was alone in the ca acious hollow of a tree in the wild woods of isconsiu. The situation so novsl and startling to the b0 . kept his senses on the alert. his ears clung with tenacity to the footsteps of his new-found friend, and when they died am and Were heardtno more, he felt the peril of h a situation. What if the ranger should lose his life among the outlaws? Then, indeed, would he be friend~ less in the forest, and certain to fall into the un- feeling hands of Captain Rough. The thought made him shudder. thrill of terror to his heart. “Shadow-Shot could make the captain tell wh he brought me into these woods. If he fai to—night what shall I do?” A moment’s pause, and the hidden boy said firm 5'. “What will I do! Wh , I’ll make him tell mvselfl That’s what I’ll oi" Thirty minutes on leaden wings passed over the head of Nightingale Net. The silence that folIOWed Shadow-Shot’s de. parture seemed to be the calm before. the storm. When there came to the tree the sound of a It sent a footstep in the forest, Nat started joyfully, and ejaculated the cognomen of his protector. The person approached the tree. He came from the direction of the wagons, from the vi- cinity of which no shouts of conflict now came. It was certainly Shadow-Shot. To the boy waiting so anxiously for his return, it could be no one else. With senses on the qm‘ vine and eager tolearn the result of the rangcr's scout, Nightingale Nat stood erect and peered anxiously into the forest. Pit-a-pat went the feet of the unseen, until the youthful eyes caught sight of a figure mov- ing amon the trees. “ Here am!” At the sound of the boy’s voice the person stn pad, and an ejaculation of success saluted Na ’s ears. It was so full of devilishuess, so dif— ferent from Shadow-Shot’s voice. that he shrunk from the aperture white as ashes. He had betrayed his presence to a fool As he hugged the wall of the tree furthest from the opening, the boy fondly hoped that he had not revealed his exact whereabouts to the man in the forest; but, alas! he builded poorly. Straight to the tree, as if guided by the boy's own hand, came the treacherous footsteps. Nightingale Nat held his breath, and ept his eyes fixed upon a star which glittered far be- yond the boughs of the tree. All at oncea heavy gall seemed to blot the planet from his sight. he man without was at the opening. “Oh, I’ve found you?” he said, throwin a voice full of the flendishness of outlawry nto the tree. Nightingale Nat did not reply: but his heart stemed to cease throbbing in his breast. The man without was Zimrl Paddock, one of Captain Rough’s men, and a person who hated the boy of the train. It will be recollected that this man delivered Captain Rough's orders which put an end to N nt‘s song. just before the charge of the forest demons. “Oh, it’s no use to keep your mouth shut!” hoarsely exclaimed the man. “ You thought I was that tall old codger what step ed utween your back an’ the cap’n‘s whip awhi e ago. Not by a long shot, my young cat~hird. The old hound‘s gone hack to nose around the train, eh! Well, he’ll find an empty tree when he gets hyar. Come, my young hopeful.” What! fall into the hands of such a man as Zimri Paddock, whose evury instinct was of the most hrutish kind—a man who would not hesi- tate to take human life for gain or revenge? “ You sun us into a pretty mess. didn’t you?” said Paddoc , coarsely; “ we was gettin’ along peacefully. Conflscate your bird throat! I’m goin’ toslit it, and let all the music out for- everl” That awful threat, accompanied by the tiger- ish glare of the two eyes that regarded him, made Nightingale Nat resolve not to fall into the villain’s hands. He could not rinse his rifle to his shoulder; the hollow in which he was ensconced would not admit of this, but he could thrust the manic toward the aperture and fire. This he did! IS Nightingale Nat. A loud cry followed the report, and when the smoke cleared away Nat saw the far-off star a sin. gZlmri Paddock was gone! and the boy hoped that the bullet had crashed through his brainl But this triumph was of short duration. A wild cry, joined to a savage oath, startled the boy, and the hole became dark again. The next moment he felt himself grasped rudely by the shoulder, from which the hand almost instantly shot to his throat. “Not dead yet, my Nightingale!” hissed Pad- dock. “ I'm bieedin’ like a. stuck deer, but I’ll finish you afore 1‘50." The white-face boy resisted with all his strength, but the hand of a maddened giant was at his throat, and he was dragged from the tree. “ Thought you lied killed Zim Paddock, oh i” laughed the brute. “ Oh. my leetle one, as that old chap called you, I’ll let the music out 0' your heart! I’ll cut your lumnge, my nightingalel" The boy had cease to offer resistance, for the vise like grip of the scoundrel’s hand was fast depriving him of sensibility. . CHAPTER IV. 17 N D a c a I v a D. We: have seen with what regret Captain Dave rmitted Rafe Armstrong to desert the outlaw and, while on its march to attack the train, lumbering slowly through the woods. On any other occasion he would have added another crime to the list already long, for he would have rid himself of the queruious man with the pistol or the knife. But at the place where desortion took place, neither of those agents of death would do; the former would make a loud report, and a death- cry might follow a blow from the latter. ‘herefore, he did the next best thing that sug- gested itself; he set Sharp Knife, the wily Crow, upon Armstrong’s trail, and felt relieved. He had confidence in the scarl t Vulture. Rafe Armstrong talked too much. He was continually harping about the “attack on Coli- yer's train,” a deed of forest barbarity which took place in the Wiscor in woods five years rior to the date of our present story. The out— aw was superstitious, but brave to a fault; he had never shrunk from danger; but the only failing that characterized him—his talkative- ness—irritated the Apollo ‘ H .e wilderness, and at last, as we have seen, bl ought about an open to ture. ' eil mounted, and armed with rifle, pistol and knife, the dismissed man left the band to continue its march through the somber woods. He resolutely turned his tack upon it and rode away, He did not look back wth longing eyes and think of the spoil which v mid fail to his com- rades by the capture of the train. He did not see the dark-skinned assa: sin, who, having slid from a. horse and hidden a. bridle for fatu re use, was following him with e) :s that glittered with the wickedness of the basilisk’s. If he had dreamed that Sharp Knife v as on his track, would he not havo turned and put an end to one Indian’s trailing? But Armstrong did not see t'. e murderer. “ Bless me if I don’t go an-l tell her what I know,” he muttered to himself, as he rode along. “ She’s got no busine in these Earts, an’ if thar’s any money in gettin’ her bac tothe city, why I’ll run the risk. I wonder how city life would go ag’in, with plenty of money in my pocket, an’ good drinks?” The forest ath which the bandit traversed at length broug t him to what appeared to be the edge of a cliff, below which sounded the musical hum of flowing water. “She oughter be at the cam ," he said, bring- ing his steed to a halt. “ No arm done if I go down an’ see." Turning to the north he rode slowly alon the edge of the precipice for some distance not i he stood almost on aleve] with the stream. As yet Sharp Knife had not reached his vic— tim, who had put six miles between him and the outlaw band. Advancing at a snaii’s pace u theriver-bank, strewn in many laces w th bro en rocks,whieh seriously imped his progress, Rafe Armstrong pushed along. At last be abandoned his horse and proceeded on foot, with that scarlet trailer still on his track. All at once the bandit stopped, for he stood on the threshold of a little cave wonderfully chisel- ed from the rock by the hand of nature. There were evidences of late occupancy, but now it was tenantless. Armstrong stared at the place and then looked around. " Gonel" he ejaculated, in a tone of deep dis< appointment. “ I’ve had all this trip fur nothlu’. But she’s been hyar. Cap‘n Dave needn’t tell me that a gal did not escape from Collyer’s train. What Isee with my own eyes I know, an’ that was one of the things what I see’d. Business is business! I came hyar to see the gal, an’ by hokeyl I’m not goin’ away till I’ve set eyes on the creetur’.” With the last words on his lips the deeerter stepped into the cave and began to examine the. few articles'of use which were arranged with that neatness which proclaimed the work of female taste. Just beyond the threshold and in the darker shadows, for the starlight, beautiful and bright, ncw seemed to concentrate in the cavern, a pair of sparkling e es were watching his every movement, and a and hold the long flashing blade of a knife. Sharp Knife, the trailer. With that snakelike caution of the red-man, the Pottawatomie lay on his breast, and now and then crept forward without the least sign of noise. Slowly, but with that certainty so suggestive of doom, he approachedflhie victim. “ A right-down pretty place to live,” Rafe Armstrong said, admiring the interior of the secluded home. “Here is whar the cap’n comes so much. Now I’d like to see the gel. It's been five years since we cleaned Collyer out, and she warn’t more nor ten year old then." Hard u the outlaw’s last sentence came an exclamation that caused him to start. “ Thet war somebody!” he cried, turning quickly. “ I heard a voice. an’-—the gal, by gemmmyl” He started forward with the ejaculation onhis lips, for standing at the edge of the cave ap-i .5; .5; Nightingale Nat. peered a vision of female loveliness, which mi ht well have surprised the man. K girl of near sixteen, clad in a half—boyish hunting-suit, with a jaunty cap of skins set up- on her head, and a. mass of ong hair on her shoulders. The outlaw took in her hebiliments and beauty ata lance, and a moment later, he stood be- fore er, his rough hand encircling her arm, and his aze riveted upon her face. “ ’ve caught you, my beaut I" he cried, triumphantly. " Didn’t you thin I war Cap’n Dave? I used to serve under him, but we played quits to-night. I talked too much, al— entlrely too much for Cap’u Dave. I said t ata gal of your looks did escape from Collyer‘s train, an’he said that if Iwould still talk such non- sense, Imight pack my kit an’ dust. You see he sa 3 nobody got away; you stan’ here to prove thatl war right, an‘ be war wrong. Bless me! I’m lad I found you. Why, you be grown a g deal since that night. Haven’t furgot it, ave ye, my little bird? ’ The man rattled his sentences off too rapidly for the girl, eager as she was to talk, to get in a sin le word, until he aused for want of breath. e stood with his ask to the foe, crouching near with the knife: but the Indian’s eyes were full of curiosity. He, too, had been surprised by the ap arance of the girl; and, for the mo- ment, harleorgotten the mission upon which his chief had dispatched him. “What do you mean, sir?” cried the girl quickly upon Armstrong’s last word. “You hevn‘t furgotten, I hope,” he said, as- tonished. “ Why, warn't you on a train once when a passe] of Injuns and whites came down upon it an’ killed evarybody i" “ 0h l" cried the girl starting from the outlaw, and with a wild shriek she threw her hands to her head, and staggered against the walls of the cavern. “ Now ou’ve got the thinkin’-cap on I” Rafe said. “ didn’t think you could urget that time. It sticks with me, fur I saw you crawl from' the wagon, an’ run off!” “ Forget that night? neveri" was the cry, and the fair speaker, with a pair of eyes flashing above her pallid cheeks, sprung erect, and halt- ed before the outlaw. “That’s what I thought!” was the rejoinder. “ I war thar—" “You! And do you come hithertotell me that you were among the forest fiends who at~ tacked my father’s train that night, and in cold blood butchered all save myself! Do on know that I have livsd for ven sauce? 'th6 person who offers me the only kin nose that I have re- ceived in these woods since that night of blood, has promised to hunt the wolves of murder down. He may be on their trail now! I have asked to be rmitted to follow him: but he says ‘nol’ an here I stay until he brings the instigator of that massacre to me.” Astrauge smile pla ed with Rafe Armstrong's lips while the girl tal ed excitedly for revenge. ” When war be here last?” the outlaw asked. “ Yesterday." ‘ “ What do you think of him i" “ What should a person in in situation think 'of the Only one who proflers friendship?" “Oh, tbet’s a question. I wanted an answer. Now, to come down to business: Do you love that man?" The girl hesitated, evidently startled and as- tonished. “ Why these questions?” she said coming for- ward as if puzzled by the outluw's manner and the smile on his swarthy face. “ You are smil- ing, and by it you mean something. Why should I not love the man who is to befriend me? Tell me this, and then I will answer you." ” Just like the women in the city ” and Rafe Armstrong burst into a loud guffaw, whose coarseness made the chasm ring. It. made the girl blush and look indignant. “Why it isnt natural for a person in our fix to fall in love with the rascal who di you all the harm he could !" the forest freebooter said at the end of his laugh. The hand which had left his arm now closed upon it again; and a face painful in its blanched eagerness was upturned to the deserter. “ 0h, tell me what you darkly hint at!" the girl cried. “ You do not mean—no! noi—” “ Thet’s jest what I mean!” was the interrup— tion. " W’arn’t I thari and oughtn’t I to know! Yes, my little gal, the man what has pretended to be your friend is the rascal who led the an tack on Collyer’s train! He has lied to you. You may have heard of Captain Dave—" “Yes! yes! he told me that he would hunt Captain Dave down. and bring him to me to be dealt with as I elected.” “ Just one of his tricks!” laughed Armstrong. “ He is Cap’n Dave himself. He’- pulled the wool over er eyes completely." The wh re-facsd irl did not answer for a moment. She stood ike a statue before the out- law, a look of incredulity in her eyes. Rafe saw that she doubted him. “ I tell the truth, gall" he said with an earn- estness that sent conviction like an arrow to hen heart. “ He is the vulture of these woods. We’nve bed a dimk'ilty; at loggerheads, you see! -.- “ Now I know whom to huntl” cried the irl. seizing a rifle that h aned against the wall 0 the cave. “M father’s blood calls for vengeance. A lie has ept mesthree long years from the path of justice; but now these woods shall know a trailer as implacable as the Indians who inhabit them. Love you, Noel Gordon? No! There was a somed'dhg that withheld my love. Now the mask ida loeen torn off. I seem you that Captain Davaywhose villainy has made (he wagon-roads through these forests red with human gore. Hear me Heavenl and let the hand of Violet Collyer do the duti which the dead demands of it. Not one fiend s allescapel" The terrible oath whitened the outlaw’s cheeks, and he in“ luntarily shrunk from the girl, who. standing lit the strong starlight with hand uplifted towardvthe flrmament. looked like a young queen of tragedy. “Not one? That takes me in I" muttered the whitefaced wretch. “ I wish I hadn’t sprung the sub'ectl” v Shrin ing fromNdolet Collyer, he approached the dark figure in the shadows. Another step. and he would tread on the hidden Pottawat- omie. ui 10‘ But the Indinn‘s eyes were upon him, and all at once a knife flashed for a moment in the starlight. With a wild shriek Armstrong felt the blade enter his flesh, and staggered past the girl. Sharp Knife sprung to his feet to find the avenger’s rifle at his breast. He started back, hesitated a moment, and fled down the ravine. But the fair avenger saw the flying figure, and before it could lose itself in the shadows, a flash lit up the little cave. Sharp Knife fell forward on his face! CHAPTER V. THE TWO CAPTAINS. AT the report of Nightingale Net's rifl -, fired point-blank into Zimri Paddock’s face, a figure moving through the forest at no great distance from the spot, came to a sudden halt, and a strange ejaculation was heard. “ It came from the place whnr I left the leetle ’un!” said the person in the wood, in tones that betrayed much anxiety. “ I’m not used to the crack of his weepin, so I can’t tell whether it war his. Howsomever, if the ho is attacked. I guess he will give the enemy the st he’s got.” The speaker quickened his gait, md was soon advancing through the wood at no inconsider- able Speed. “ I’ve heard strange things to—night,” be con- tinued, as he hurried along, “an’ it makes me sort 0’ anxious-like about the lny. That skunk ofaWbite Vulture would never hev teched a. blanket in Captain Rough‘s train if he had known who he war. Now We’ll See a. pretty partnership in these parts. One wolf will go in with the other, an’ the boy’ll hev to look out.” At the pace which bore the speaker through the forest, he was not long in reaching the tree in which but a short time previous Nat had been hidden. An ominous silence brooded over the spot. “ Nat, my lcetle one?” said the man, approach— ing the giant of the woods. “ Wal, I’m back again. You‘re uncommon still, I’m thinkin‘!" But no reply came from the depths of the tree, and Shadow-Shot thrust his great hand into the hollow. It encountered nothing. “ Gone! by hokey l” exclaimed the ranger. “ He didn’t'go away on his own account. 'l‘het isn't his style. NOW ther'll be somebody waked up hereabouts. Plates and platters! The chaps what took the leetle feller hev stirred up the lion, an' his name is Shadow-Shot, late of Il- linoyl” As the ranger withdrew his hand, he felt a slippery something wh‘mh, though he saw it not, convinced him that it was blood. He stepped back and examined the round as carefully as the faint light permitte , but the search did not enlighten him. “It’s back to the train now,” he said, rising, with a sigh of disappointment. “ I war follered when I left it, an’ the chap what took the boy will carry him back to Captain Rough." Shadow-Shot searched no longer in the vicin- ity of the hollow tree; but tightened his belt, and began to retrace his steps. He believed that N ightingnlo Nat had been re: Nightingale Nat. captuer by one of Rough’s men, who would, of course, attempt to return him to his chief. A man had followed him and the boy from the train for the purpose of recovering the boy. Thus the ranger reasoned, but that he was wrong for once, the continuation of our story will show. At the place where the Vultures had fallen upon Ca min Rough’s train a scene striking in its sinin nrity, for that region, was taking place. The Vultures had ceased to plunder the wag- ons. With sullen looks and muttered anathe- mas, the outlaws were replacing many articles which they had greedin Seizud upon during the » attack. The keen eyes of Captain Dave were upon them. He was commanding them to re- place various things; and was superintending the righting of several wagons and was oversee- ing the refitting of the train. Moving here and there among the busy scenes appeared a number of Captain Rough’s men, who had sneaked back after the sudden lull in the fight to see the two leaders talking together " like old acquaintances, and finally to mingle ' with their late foes. 1 Each deserter, as he returned, found himself . questioned eagerly by Rough, concerning the 1 missing boy. The brutal man seemed much . exercised over the youth's absence, and more than once in no measured terms, he cursed the man who had late appeared as Net’s protec- tor. “The train can proceed now.” the Apollo of the woods said, coming up to Rough who had been leaning against a tree for an hour, with . arms folded upon his chest, and eyes regarding the repairing of the mishap. l “ We cannot tarry here,” continued the brigand biting his li . good humor. The Ilynd worked five minutes longer. made them restore everything, even the little keg in the hirdmost wagon." “ Open it for them, and let them fill them~ sews-s!" blurted Rough. “ No!" was the firm reply. “ We’d have pau- demonium here in less than thirty minutes. There’s had blood in my men; but little good in yours, captain, and the two streams would he sure to Collide. We must separate. Look at that old Pottawatomie yonder. He is telling his comrades how easily they could hamstring tho oxnn, and plunder the wagons which they have ,'just reloaded, If you will not move,I must.’ “ Then move it shall be!” said Rough stepping from the tree. “ I’ll count my men. I had six- teen when you came down upon us.” In a few minutes the captain of the train had marshaled his force and counted thirteen. Three were missing: Nightingale Nat, Paddock, and Jack Gustin a. man whom the captain, styled a “ do-nothing," whosaabsence was better than his company. With subdued anger which was displayed in lowering brows and flashing eyes, the outlaws saw their expected prey about to be snatched from their grasp. They could not hthom the motive which had prompted their leader to send Captain Rough away with his. to them, “My men are in no ,. ians would not have Captain Rough did not move. . Look! I have '- " . . i <1. , 5 valuable goods restored. Their glanccs shot angrily at the Apollo who stood beside the head wagon, holding Rough’s hand in his own. One by one the whips were recovered and again they cut the air and cracked over the heads of the oxen. It was now near daybreak. “Captain, 1‘" be up by the lake. shore hy-andA by,” the chief of the Vultures said as he held Rough‘s hand and looked into his face. “’Pon my word! if I had known who commanded this train, there Would have been no attack. You can 0 straight through to the mines now; but you’ll not find an ounce of gold there—not an ouncel” Captain Rough’s eyes had a merry twinkle. “Gold!” he echoed. “Ain‘t I gettin’ lots of it for this trip?" “Oh, yes!’ was the re ly, accompanied by a light laugh. “But that o d chap will cheat you out of it if I don’t outgeneral him." “ You must I” “ I will !" “You will come as soon as it is done?” “ Do you want me to join you sooner?" “No! no!" said Rough, quickly. “ Now, good-by, captain. I can‘t hold my dogs ofl? longer; their growls get louder." Then the outlaw chief released the captain’s hand and sprun hastily to the horse which had carried him to t e train. Vaulting into the saddle with the grace of a cavalier, he turned to his men, and in a tone of authority not to be disputed by the most dar- ing, ordered them to turn their faces from the wagons. Sullenly they obeyed. " Now go!” he shouted to Rough. “Give your brutes the command.” The next moment the wagons creaked and started on again, the grumbling of the wheels mingling with the blasphemy of the teamsters eager to leave the Vultures behind. Captain Rough, mounted on a llfil‘se, put him— self In advance of the first wagon, and was the first person who passed from the Apollo's sight. At last the teams faded from the vision of. the Wisconsin bandit; but the curses of the drivers and the rumbling of the heavy vehicles pro- claimed the route. “Now, backl” Captain Dave said to his sul- len men. “A richer train than that will soon fall into our hands. Captain Rough and I used to be boys together." There was no reply to his words. He seemed to feel the pulse of his discomfited party, and wisely refrained from exciting it. “ Ohol Captain Rough,” he said to himself, with a smile. “You think I couldn’t read your 9 es. Old fellow, I know you like a. book. The i an of you going to Lake Superior, leaving that boyI in these woods, is the hight of absurdity. W K, you’ll not lead your train a mile. you old dou le-faced Villain! There’s too much money trembling in the balance just now to keep you on the road to the copper mines." The bandit captain was not wrong in his re- dictious, for the first streaks of day that illu- mined a Wisconsin forest found Captain Rough riding slowly southward alone. The train was Nightingale Nat. 11 not in sight, and its monotonous rumble had passed entirely beyond hearing. The villain had deserted his men in the forest, and was on the “back track." “ Dave Sepoy thought I was an idiot when he supposed I would go on and leave the boy to be cared for by him !” muttered the rufllan with a smile. “ I want the blood of that man who stepped between me and the lad.” The eyes of Captain Rough flashed madly as the words fell from his lips. He wanted to en- counter Shadow—Shot. All at once the report of a rifle startled the captain. and he felt his horse sinking to the ground! With a loud cry Rough leaped from the sad— dle, and raised his rifle; but before he could throw it to his shoulder, a tall ungainly figure sprung upon his path and a pistol was thrust into his face. “ Shadow Shot, at your sarvicel" cried a rough voice. “ The very man you want to see, accordin’ to yer talk. Now, cap’n, We’ll com- pare accounts, an’ inebhe we’ll squar’ ’61:] More we’re through i" Captain Rough looked into the flashing eyes of the tall ranger, and his face grew white. .__—— CHAPTER VI. ran sons IN PaaIL. :HMEBBE as how I don’t know how to sarve ye “What are you going to do with me?” “Not let you go, of course. Now I can‘t say that I hev any partic‘lar ill feelin’ ag’ln’ ye: but you hev got me into an onpleasant predicament. Didn’t ye keep on singin’ ontil them wood ranv ers flopped down upon us. an’ out right an’ eft until Zim Paddock is the only survivor of Cap’n Rough’s train! An’ didn’t ye tr to drive a bullet through my skull a while bac ? I ought to love ye fur these two leetle kind- nesses, oughtn’t 1, young ’un? ’Pon my honor! I ought to adopt ye; but I guess I’ll not take that responsibility at present. ” There was a savage leer in the eyes that over- looked a face begrimed with forest dust and blood—an admixture hideously repulsivo. ” Have ye any money on yer person?” the man suddenly asked. “ Not a. Cent.” “ Do ye ever expect to get any—I mean, hain’t ou got a rich father, or uncle, or some kind 0’ 'in who is goin’ to do well by you one 0’ these days!" The eyes of the boy dilated at the singular question, and became riveted with an expression of wonder upon Paddock. “ What makes you think I have i” he asked. “That is buckin’ one question ag'in’ another," Paddock cried, ohagrinm-‘i. “I‘m not obleeged to answer, am 1? Well, I’ve got two eyes in in head. I‘ve had ’em thnr fur forty‘two year. kin see some things when it tain’t too dark. Yer hands war white as the skin on your breast when I first saw you with Cap’n Rough. They’ve been browned by the climate whar we’ve been. Now come out an! say fur honest, boy, if you, hevn’t got a prospect fur money ahead. ’ 12 Nightingale Nat. “ I do not know i" was Nat’s reply. “ I’m sure that I am no blood kin to Cap’n Rough.” “So war all of us," Paddock said, with a smile. “ Many's the time I’ve told the boys, Jack Gustin in particllar, that you war no more his boy than mine. Whar did you come from?” The curiosity of the man who stood before Nightingale Nat in the midst of a forest with a coil of rope in his hand, was of the most intense kind. He seemed to believe that he stood on the threshold of a secret which, if disclosed, would brin to his empty coffers that god which he wors iped with the miser’s adoration. But it appeared ready to take flight, and leave him, moneyless still. “Zimri Paddock, what are you going to do with me?" the boy suddenly demanded, totally ignoring the rufflan’s eagerness. “That depends on your own actions!" was the rejoinder. “You mean to hang me here in the woods with that rope?" “Not exactly a hangin‘," laughed the villain. “I hain't got time to parley here. Can’t you heara strange noise over your left shoulder? The scent of my own blood is the cause of them sounds. Say, talk to me. Whar did you come from when Cap‘n Rough took you up? That’s what I want to know!” “ I lived in a city then.” “Just as I imagined. Go on i” “ My father made fireworks in a little shop—” “ Stop!“ thundered Paddock. “ I don’t want a lie—no fixed-up story here, my young lark!" Nat‘s face flushed with indignation. “ It is not a. lie, sir!” he cried. “ You would not say that the second time if I stood free on this spot!” Paddock laughed brutishly, and showed his colored teeth. “Yer hands say that you never helped make fireworks,” he said. eying the youth. “ Now tell the truth, or, by the eyes of me! I’ll settle the matter between us right here!" “ Why should I lie, Zimri Paddock! Captain Rough took me from the shop with the consent of the man who called me his son.” “He wasn’t your father, though?" the man cried, with a. joyful start. “ I don‘t know—but I—I think not.” “ Ahl think not l” was the ferocious cry. “ That’s your way of beatin’ around the bush. Well, gold or no gold, I’ll bring matters to a crisis.’ Betting his lips firmly behind the last word, Zimri Paddock pushed our hero against the little tree beneath which they had halted, and roceeded at once to throw the cord around his y. Nightingale Nat fixed his eyes on the villain; but did not put in a word of pleading. Mercy seemed a. stranger to Captain Rough’s money-loving tool. The cords were wielded without ity, and Nat found his body drawn painfully c ose to the tree. He almost wished that the hand of Paddock had not relaxed on his trachea. when he roughly drew him from the hollow tree, as we have already related. “New, beauty!” cried Paddock, as he flung . , . . the lash-like ends of the rope into the prisoner’s face. “A person with half sense could tell what this tyin' means. You had to sing the train to its death, an’ thar’s half of my cheek carried away by yer bullet. I guess I’ll live over it if I git away from hyar soon. So you came from a flrevworks shop, eh?” “I did." “Mighty tart!" sneered Paddock, cut by the brief reply. “I’m thinkin’ or sentences will be longer afore mornin’. ell me who you really are, an’ by the eyes of me! I’ll turn kind an’ tramp you out 0’ these woods.” “I havo already told you. I am not going to purchase my liberty with a lie!” “Ono!” cried Paddock, liftin his head and giving a prolonged whistle. “ guess you’re nothin’ worth savin’ after all. But the cap‘n did act as if you war a valuable prize. Strange! Now good-by, my nightingale. If thar be any gold comin’ to you not one dollar will ever shine on your hand. Because why, my bird! Be- cause Zimri Paddock left ye tied to a tree in the big woods of Wisconsin, to be eaten by wolves an b’arsl” Did the boy’s cheeks blanch’l No; his eyes flashed fire at the merciless speaker, and his lips, a trifle paler than usual. closed with determination. The man picked up his rifle and stepped back, followed by the eyes of Nightingale Nat. ‘_‘ Ar’n’t ye goin’ to begi’ he exclaimed in sur- prise. “Not to on 1” was the re 1y. “Zimri Pad- dock, if I s ouid get away rom this tree alive you will have an enemy w 0 will hunt you not only in these woods but far beyond them-— wherever you go. He will hunt you to death i” “If you get away, eh?" laughed Paddock with the coarseness of the dee dyed villain. “Jo-t try the ropes, my cheru im, an’ see if thar’s any danger of that. I fancy thet you would he a bad enemy; but you’re one what will never foller me-never, my ladl” Paddock now stepped further back until his burly figure gradually grew indistinct to the bound boy. “ It’s good-by fur good i” came a voice from the deeper shadows—«a voice which Nat recog. nized as his tormentor’s. “Perhaps!” murmured the nightingale; but he did not send the word into the wood for he knew that it would occasion an outburst of coarse ruflianism. He had heard enough of Zimri Paddock’s voice for the present. Perhaps he might hear ltin the future freight- ed with the brute’s death-cry. Perhaps! The footsteps died away and Nightingale Nat was alone. ” There’re two reasons why I want to t out of this scrape," he muttered to himse f. "I want to know who I am, and I want to pay 08 some old scores. The old man who made fire- works can not be my father. He indentured me to Captain Rough for a purpose. Paddock suspects as much. Rockets and Roman-candles! V when I get away from this tree, I'll hunt Shadow~Shot up, and we’ll pay of! several old scores. Captain Rough wil in ugh should he * x tar" ‘..:-$..;::f;’:~_.._” ' - t pl