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Copyrighted. 1886, by Blur)“ . Entered at the Post 003cc at New York. N. Y., as Second Class Mail Manet. Dec. 8. 1886.

 

. ‘ 1 b
VOL  “332$:- Pub‘hshed Week y y Beadle and Adams, F Pricelim‘ N0. 

‘ No. 98 WLLLLm Sn. NEW YORK. We 00

 

 

 

 

  

Dandy Darke.

 

Dandy Darke ;

on,

THE TIGERS or HIGH PINE.

~oml‘

  

‘ nor of the place in which they were to camp.

A Story of a. Camp of Refuge.
BY WM. R. EYSTER.

CHAPTER I.
FUGITIVES FROM FATE.

Tim river ran quietly along, fringed on
either side by a thread of timber, which, here
and there, protected by some change in the con-
formation of the land, swelled out into a little
grove, of huge oak, tall hackbcrry, or cotton-
wood, or spreading elder.

Into one of these clumps the bright moonlight
was peering, its radiance sifting down between
curtaining branches, and falling upon ajstrangc,
a. wild, a terrible scene.

Before we attempt to picture this scene let Us
go backward a few hours, to the moment of
sunset and see who it was that went into camp
in this lonely, though beautiful spot.

Just at that hazy, muzy hour, when the day
is melting away into darkness, the creaking
of wheels and the lowing of cattle, instinct
with the approach to water, might have been
heard, and over the blow of the ridge, or di-
vide, that lay along the stream on the further
side, there came a small caravan.

First appeared a mounted man, with carbine
at a. ready, and eyes peering this way and that.
The way to the water‘s edge was safe and easy,
and he rarle straight down and without hesita-
tion fordcd the stream, and tried the bank upon
the other side.

“ An excellent place fora. camp," he muttero 1,
“though none too well defended if we had
reason to fear a surprise. But what have I to
fear-now? Certainly, if there are thzm to the

 

east who would have pursue l. I rlis'tmuwl them

long ago. If there are savages t) tn“ west,
their hunting-grounds still lie 0. hun'lrc'l miles
away, and it is not likely that tiny will punc-
trate to this spot, so near to the line of allvanc»
ing settlem a'it. For a ni'rht or two we can still
camp in peace. After that we mth beware nn,
til we have loaoe'l 5). ‘ros-z the line 01‘ barbarisxn—
and reached the ru lo civilI'z-ition that lies upon
the other side. Oh, Nellie, Nollie, how can’I
ever reply you for all that your low of mo has
made you suffer? Icannot understand, oven,

' how you can look me in the face whom you know

that my hands am Ht'llllf‘fli —innm-cntlv, I swear!
with the bioo l of those that are near to you!
Ma Haven aid me to teach you with my love
to orget!”

And while he spoke, the wagons—two in num-
ber. and drawn ouch by three vokes of oxen—
came down the bank, and rolled heavily into the
water which was not more than hub-deep.

For a moment there was a scene of tangle and

confusion, but soon, as the cattle began to.

drink eagerly silence again reigned, the two
drivers, from their perches at the forward ends
of the wagons, glancing around to, see the man-

 

 

“ I declar’, Julius, of de ’skeetors  so  ,

ful had—day seems like so many onngsmhg
a-suckin’ do sweet cidah frew a strait—dag Pee
w’arin oi! ebr ton ob flesh on my bones arfight-f'
in’ ob 'em. Voah, haw, Mikel Come out o"
dah now!” 7 ,

The whip of the driver cracked like a-‘pistol,
as he spoke to the 01? ox in the lead of his teamq
who responded to the call. The three yokes
straightened their chains, and the wagon ground ,
harshly and heavily over the gravelly bottom,

and with a long. slow, steady pull was brought 
up the sharp bank, and taken to the spot in: x
uickly cast. '-

dicatcd by the first comer, who
himself from his iron-gray steed and usied him-‘

self with unloading the little train. 1 
There were but five persons actually of the ‘
party, which was headed by Mark Dorland, v 

He was indeed the head, the life, the brain, the
nerve, the all. The two drivers were colored
men, who were faithful enough, and did their
duty just as they were ordered; but they were
speaking automate, and were scarcely to be
counted upon for real work on the plains, than?
their strong muscles and willing hands would 
in demand when they reached that land of go] -
on promise which had been but lately opened up,
and toward which Mark Dorland had turnedhis
face.

For him the most precious freight in that
well-fitted train was his own little family, con-
sisting of but a wife and son, the latter afine,
manly little fellow, perhaps ten years of age.
As he helped the two from the wa on, a great
love-full smile lit up the face of the usband an
fat‘hsr. d

‘ no (la further on our way, my 31' ' .
One day mdi‘e of a journey between those 1311350
should be our friends, and yet are my most
deadly foes.”

“ Yes, Mark; one day further have we gone

toward the heart of the wilderness. Heaven 37

grant that there we may lose our identity, save
for each other; and that the tigers upon your
trail may be at fault forever.” 7

“ Ay, Hcavon grant it—and I dare pray that
prayer, though my hand be red With the blood

that I swear I would rather have died than have

taken, had I known it."

~“ Such words are not for the ears of one so V ‘

young as Dana, and I would now that we could‘

altogether forget the past and begin a new Mel”

“ We will! we will!” and as Mark Dnrland’,

 

spoke in a tone of momentary exaltation, 13 3
deep, guttural voice almost at his elbow, chhned ‘
ln‘ 

is How In v ',

For a moment husband and wife started. ’
though the word was one of salutation instead -,

ofguestion. They had forgotten, and wheeled,
1n.

as from the other wagon a face protruded- '

the face of an Indian brave. V v
“ How? My White brother: camps tonightby
the running water. Mato Luta. is near to
the hunting-grounds of his friends and will be a;-
burden no longer. White man has done Scarlet
Rmr much good, and Matt) Lute neverforget.
He keep Indian panpoose another night yet and
the  bring Brave Horse, carry her away
(pm! .' ,.

Even  bespoke the'Indien glanced, W

 

 

 

 
      

        

I ' more trouble to white brother now.

himflaking in every feature of the well-remem—
bered t

, “Yggo have nothingto be so grateful for. I
picked you and your little granddaughter up
and carried you fromrone camping~gr01md to

another. Who would not have done the same?”
' “Umphl Indian go town of white man and
have much trouble. Squaw die, pap oose sick,
Indian shot by bad white man. ying at
stream. Good white man find red—man, dress

1 V wound, carry him three, four day. feed him

all the time. Scarlet Bear never forget. No
Leave
'little girl here, come back by and by, umph!”
~ The words of the two told the whole story.

a Though Mark Dorland would have had him stay
he refused, but turning, stalked away with 8.
~ gait that in a white man would have been slow
 and painful, but in him had a native dignity
that concealed the effort that it cost him.
. “Oh, Mark, are on sure that you can trust
h m?” exclaimed iriam Dorland, as the form
0 Scarlet Bear was lost in the now gathering
darkness.

“With my life. I have secured his eternal
gratitude. And, as a hostage, see, he has left his
'ttle granddau hter. 1 know somethinw of
Indian nature. e will return for her wit his
friends, who, he has told me, are some twenty
miles north of this. After that he and his tribe

' ' would defend us to the death.”

Perhaps there was truth in what Mark Dor-
land said, but his wife drew their boy, little
Dane, toward her with a shudder, and kissed
him a dozen times.

“Oh, my darling boy,’ would that I could
' guess what dangers for the future lurk in your
pathway! And yet you are too young to warn.
too young to understand the perils that surround
us now and may dog your footsteps through life.
Heaven save you from sudden, Violent death, is
your mother’s prayer.”

“Amen!” chimed in Mark Dorland’s strong
but musical voice. “ Now let your fears be for-
gotten. Julius is preparing our evening meal,
and tgnight, yet, I think we can slumber in

e.
Could they? Ah, Mark Dorland little dreamed
of the story which that dingle, before morning,

' _‘ would have to tell.

CHAPTER. II.

I - N THE FALL OF THE AX. _

‘ FOB his age, Dane Dorland was a bright,
v handy, intelligent boy. He was thoughtful, too,
* for his years: though probably the circum—

stances 01 his life had made him so. ’
, From the earliest period of his remembrance,
. his father had lived under a cloud, ever strug-
' gling to forget or evade the past.

Although his parents scarcely imagined it, he

:' ; .knew much of the story of their lives, having
' 7 gathered it from fragments of conversations ut-

tered in his hearing.

He knew, though perhaps he did not under-
1 stand, that his father had won his mother and
carried her away in defiance of the wishes of
her family. That there had been an unfortu-
nate collision in which either Mark Dorland or

a friend had taken the life of Mrs. Dorlnnd‘s

Mther, and that  Dane, a young man

 

Dandy Dan-he.

of strong, unbridled
oath to hunt down an shoot upon sight the one

who had stolen his sister and slain his brother. ,7,
And though years passed this hatred never

slackened.

/ Yet through it all Mrs. Dorland had remained

true to her husband, though she had many an
hour of gloomy despair; and now accompanied
him as he turned his steps toward the far—off
mines, where he hoped to lose his identity and
distance pursuit.
‘ This night for a. time, they sat around the dy-
ing embers of the camp-fire, while the two color-
ed men watched the cattle that were luxuriating
in the/long grass of the river bottom.

Apart from the iwo elders and hidden effectu-
ally in the shade of the wagon, sat Dane Dor-
lailnldl, and close beside him was the little [Indian
c 1

She had crawled there for- company, but never '

uttered a. word. So little had she spoken since
she had been with the train, that possibly no
one knew that she understood English at all.

Now she suddenly arose from the ground
where she had been sitting, and whispered into
the ear of the boy:

“Bad man come. Injun girl an‘ white boy
hide, he no see um. Heapgood, that.”

Then she glided oil” into the darkness behind
the wagons, and, impelled by a strange sensa-
tion, that seemed to be one of warning rather
than four, the boy followed her.

A moment later, there came the sound of
blundering footsteps, carelessly approaching the
spot. Then a voice hailed the camp through the
darkness:

“Hillo, thar! Ahoy! I’ll sw’ar I seed a
leetle light a—glimmerin’ atwixt the trees, so yer
needn’t try to lay low. Bill Blake ain’t afeard
of no livin’ catersnoogeous catermount; au’ ther’

ain’t no honest men need be afeard of him. I~

say thar, camp, give us a hail, till I find ther
bearin’s, an’ then I’m just rooster enough to
flop right doWn to the camp-kittle an’ grease my
innards with the leaviu’s of the ,crowd. I’m
’most starved. I be; so play this ole hoss fair tin
he kin stren’then up his vittals.”

The two watchers by the fire were at first ob-
stinately silent though Mark ‘Dorlnnd feared
no one man. ut when he realized that this
man would not be likely to pass in the darkness,
he gave an answering si
the stranger, who called himself Bill Blake, to
his side. . -

“ T: avelin’, be yer, stranger?” was the saluta—
tion of the man, as with quick eye he made out
the dim outline of the two wagons. “ There’s a
powerful lot of wagons on the trail now. though
they mostwise strikes it higher up. I reckon you
kin give me a stake of grub. I’ve been on the

tramp all day, an’ ’11 have to camp ’round hyer V _

somewhars to-night.”

Dorland gave the fire a stir and it burst into 4.
By the light thus obtained, he had a

a blaze.
view of the man, with whose looks he was not

at all pleased, though he had seen many a more ‘

disre putable—looking character.

He was a stout, broad-shouldered man of per-
haps thirty-five years of age, dressed in border
fashion. and carrying conveniently to his hands

a bristling army of weapons; at his bank Waaj

assions, had recorded an I

gnal that soon brought ’

I

 

Dandy Darke-

strapped a short carbine, in his belt were thrust
a bra/cent pistols and a knife, while he carried a
huge club, that would serve as a cane, or as a
ve convenient Weapon.

,“ ou’ve took my stoflt, pard, now give us an
answer. I tell yer when a man don’t treat me
right I’m easy r’ilcd; an’ it strikes me yc’r’slow
on the tongue, or mighty oncivil.”

“ I do not want to be uncivil, and I think I am
as hospitable as most, but you know one has to
look twice, out here, before he speaks once. Sit
down and I will see what we can do for you. It
shall never be said that any one was turned
away hungry from my comp.”

f “ferry one, stranger, does that mean friend or
on

“ Then I’ll sw’ar you are white. Ef I spoke a
leetle hutt‘y a bit ago, I’ll eat all that. Shake.”

He extended his hand across the fire. and
Mark Dorland gave a firm and steady grasp. then
he turned and called to Julius, who came blun-
dering' in through the darkness.

“Here I is, masser: wo’s jist bin lettiu’ ther
cattle graze ’round, but now wc’s lal‘iating ’cm
on the porairic.”

“Very well. But there is a stranger here.
Look through your larder and see if you can’t
find him some supper.”

Without hesitation, but with some grumbling,
the man (lid as he was hidden: and while Bill
Blake eat in silence, Mrs. Dorland withdrew to
the wagon which she usually occupied.

“Then the other colored man came in, and for
a little there was utter silence.

Th in suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the
strané'er sprung,r to his feet.

, “Thar‘s something in the wind—of I kin do
anything for you I‘ll do it, but—”

He said no more. A moment his tall, stout
form loomed up in the light of the daring fire—
then it sunk to the earth as a sheet of flame
seemed to leap'at the camp from out of the
darkness on everv side. There was the thunder
of a. volley of fire-arms, discharged at point-
blank range, cries of pain from the camp, a
chorus of wild yells from without, and then a
thunderous, murderous charge of a band of
fiends, who rushed into the camp like demons
incarnate, to utterly destroy.

Fortunately, perhaps, Mrs. Dorland heard no
more after that one first volley. Right through
the center of her forehead there crashed a bul-

- let. and she sunk back into the wagon a corpse.

Once. twice, spoke her husband’s pistols, be-
fore he too fell dead in the moonlight.

The two colored men were down also, and
though only wounded, their agony (lid not last
long, since a knife—thrust for each had quieted
them forever. ‘

“ Look over this carrion,” said a harsh, cruel
voice. “ Not one must live to tell this night’s
story. If an accident has sent Bill Blake under,
you needn’t mourn over it. He’s too soft-hearted
104‘ real work. and he wouldn’t have stopped
much to play us false here." ~

Mark Dorland was dead as he lay there. and

. near him were three other corpses; but of Bill
Blake there was not a‘trace.
; The bov. too. was missing, though his safety
“: melamer a patter of chance He had fol-

 

lowed the little Indian girl, had crouched 'une
noticed in the darkness, only half-seeing, only
half-realizing the hideousness of the drama of
massacre that was being played before him. In :
the very midst of it all, his young heartwas,
fill 3d too full and he fainted away. ' .

In that long death-swoon he at lea'st remained
silent, and so. unseen, while the search was baa,“ '
ing made. No one seemed to know of his pres- '
once or that of the Indian girl in the neighbor,
hood, and therefore, if not found by chance, it
would not be suspected. ,

An hour, or perhaps two later he came crawl-I,
ing out from the bushes. ‘

There was no need to tell him of the dreadful.
work that had been done. In the little dingle '
all was silent and voiceless, and yet every blade
of grass and every uivering leaf was telling
the story of nameless orror. And in the center
of the little lade, trembling, wild-eyed and full‘ '
to the lips ot fear and despair, through all the
weary night crouched the boy, Dane Dorland '
keeping his vigil in the midst of the mangled
corpses.

Dawn came at last. In the east arose the '
bright sun, ju t as footsteps sounded near. Un-’ '
conscious of the tragedy of the night, Scarlet
Bear came to claim his daughter.

Even Indian stoicism recoiled at the scene be-»‘
fore him. The wagons were overturned and
plundered; the two colored men lay side by
side. hacked, ghaslly corpses; Mark Dorland la
covered with blood from a. dozen wounds; whi 9
little Dane stood by the side of his dead.mother.

“Oh, mothcrl motherl” burst from thelipls, -’ ,,

of the boy, unconscious of the savage listener.
"I could not he] ) you—a little unarmed boy;
but I could have ied, too. I was a. coward or
I would have been beside you. Forgive me,
speak to me, give me one sign before I leave you
forever 1”

\Vns it an answer? At that moment a streak
of light, crimson and gold, from the east, shot

between the boughs, and fell fairly upon the « ~

white and rigid check.
The boy started, then dropped upon his knees.
His one hand he )laced over the heart that now.
forever was still, is other hand he raised upm'u‘d
toward the skies.  A
“ I could not fight for her; but the day Will -
come when I Will avenge her. So he p the
Heaven I will trace out, track down and slay, '
until the last devil of them all is dead. No love ,
or hope; I live, boy as I am, for revenge. On;
my mother’s corpse I swear it.” '. 
Downward drooped his head and upon theta
marbled lips he pressed the one long, last kiss
that recorded his oath, while at his back red lips
muttered: I
“ Scarlet Bear swears. too.”
He also was bereft, since of his
for there was left no sign or trace.

CHAPTER III
ALL ALONE IN HIGH PINE.

Six thousand feet above the level of the
ocean. lies High Pine, nestling amidst thesth
higher peaks that surround it. ' ‘
memorial it has been the center of amini
region. Years before the golden sands o: 
Sacramento, revealed their story in. Sn" _

.x.

granddaugh- j

 

 

 

 

 

«\

- . o stamgénever fear but what, at every risk, there

Dandy badge.

 

‘ fluine, these regions, hidden, wild, and almost
' inaccessible, as they were, had felt the miner’s

tre .
» Of High Pine there Were many legends; but
little was really known until b a. lucky chnnce

. J several yld—hunters drifted tiere, at a time

T when Mexican and Apache alike were on dif-
ferent duty than guarding its treasures. True,
. the did not tarry long, but when they drifted
bac again with buckskin bags well filled they
‘ told such marvelous stories that a rush began,
:and now, at the time when our story fairly
,0 no it was a mining—camp of much promise,
‘ ough those who reached it were cnvironed by
 dangers, and oppressed with difficulties. There
Were rich washings to be found for the seeking;
Wand old, abandoned mining-shafts marked the
- ‘ spots where there still lay richly-paying rock.
Yet the future of High Pine remained in
;'. doubt, notwithstanding for almost a year it had
.~heen steadily increasing in ini ortance. So for
the miners had been of that ( rifting,r class who
'had not the capital to make permanent improve-
ments, and in spite of the many thousands that
had been taken from gulch and shaft, it was not
v a wealthy place, but was known afar as the
r abode of a hard crowd.
Where there is money, and characters of such

will places of resort established on such
scale as will suivttheir atrons. Though half the
; town was canvas, an the other half was two-

, ‘ “thirds under ground, there was more than one

rum-mill, where roughs and gamblers congre-
gated, to while awa the hours by the use of
the festive astebonr s, or hoisting in the fatal
benzine. in truth, it took a man of nerve that
was backed by liberal and effective use of fist
and revolver, to remain on anything like safe

:i .temis with the denizens of High Pine.

lYet beautiful Marion Blake came there, and
r’ a one.
A strange position was it for a fair young

_ girl; and yet one somewhat easily explained if

one goes back a little.

v < / Some six months before the time when we

, take'up the history of High Pine a young man,
géving out his name as Charley Blake, had come
t ere.

f He was a uiet, resolute sort of fellow, hardly
:of the kind hat would fraternize readily wit

the rougher elements of the camp, yet one who
seemed well able to take care of himself. He had
some money too, and havmg entered into a sort
ot'partnership with a man knewn as Sacramento

am”, he settled down to work, plain and simple,
without any foolishness
As a result he met with what bade fair to be
an immense success. At the distance of perhaps
awhile from ngh Pine the two took possession of
.he he inning of a shaft that looked as though it
/might ave been abandoned a. hundred years or
I more, i and before 102g they struck very rich
‘, me

There were many of these abandoned pits: for
,whohad worked the mines in the past had

' hing for the old-bearing rock unless it
rich, since t ey loaded it on mules, in

“'r and  it many miles before

I ’ processes of stamp and

, '01:. Indeed thew mines

 

had been but hastily worked, by men who came
as on aforay' and thought that they were lucky
if they coul snatch away a few loads of the
rock without a. desperate fray with the Indians
who lurked among or guarded the approaches ,
to these fastnesses. . ‘

With the capital that they had to invest,
Charley Blake and his partner worked wonders.
As there were men there who had tried the.
washings in the neighboring gulches and along
the several streams of the neighborhood Without
success, there was labor to be had without y-
iiig too greata price. From the best of t ese
men Blake picked his hands, and fitting out sev-
eral arrastras, worked by hoist-power, they
began to see what their “go-down shaft” was
worth.

If they could have kept it to themselves all
might have gone on well, but unfortunately
jealous (‘ycs were on them. and before long each r
curried his life in his hand every time he ven—
tured outside of the stockade that they had the
prudence to build.

“ I tell you, Sam, I can trust you and about
three more,” said Blake, one day “ but outside
of that if every man, woman am child in High
Pine was shot, I’d feel much safer.

“ It’s a party bad place, pard; but not quite
as bad as you set it up to be. I’ve been round a
bit, as you know. an’ I reckon I never saws.
place yet that amounted to anything, Where a
man’s life was worth much—I’m not going to
back water here~you het——an’ as we two seem
to pull together fer about all we’re worth, We‘d
just better keep the traces stretched an’ Wait till
we come to the roughest part of the road rafore
we grumble.” '

“All right, old man. I’ve put every dollar

I’m worth in this venture—and about all that - V

Marion could spare. I’m bound to win, or go
out of here feet foremost. If anything happens
to me, remember she is to pay the expense of a.
man in my place, and have half the profits of
the mine. But that’s writtendown. in black and .
white, so I may as well drop this; but the fact
is, I’ve been writing a letter to the girl—I only
wish I could have her here—and I feel so blue
that I‘m green, sea-green, with tufts of moss.”

Both of them laughed. and yet it must have
been a premonition of evil, since, within twenty-
fonr hours, Charley Blake was shot.

Perhaps it was a chance blow that struck him
down, but at any rate his soul seemed absolutely
pinned to his body, and though he ‘did not die at
once and the wound was not of an absolute oer:
tainty fatal, it seemed beyond possibility that he
should recover.

In that lawless camp the act scarcely caused
more than a ripple of excitement; andlonly
Sacramento Sam felt any real sorrow. '

He seemed sorry enough.

“ It’s rough, pard, ju t when we was riggin
up the'smelter, and goin' fur the silver. I don I;
feel half like work with you lyin’ here, an’ some-
how I foel as though my turn was comin' too,
an’ mighty soon. ' always did say We was
strikin’ it too thick to thrive. ” p '

He held his partner’s handuashe spoke, and
looked down with the kindly earnestness of a
big, rough heart. on themanJWhose use
scarcely moved asthey mum, ed an answer: ,
a" , ' ' ‘ ' 9 »

 

fa  ' _ . and, bake.”

 

, “Don’t worry about me, Sam; I had to go
some day, and one time is as good as another;
, but when I’m gone do the square thing by

,Marion, and some days you’ll be arich man yet.

- If I could only see her before I die; but of course
w there’s no use in thinking of such a thin . I’ll
lay my bones here in High Pine and shell never
see where I’m buried, o the square thing by
her, Sam; that’s all I ask.”
And fiacramento Sam, not knowing what else
to do, seated himself to Wrestle with pen and
‘ pap‘er, for there was a chance to forward a let—
ter by some outgoing miners, and in his plain,
3 straightforward way he told Marion Blake of
What had happened, and how her brother lay at
the point of death, with many weary weeks for
recovery at the best, but promising to do the
7 best he could for him and his interests.

After that the business of the mine draggeld
heavily on, for Sam seemed to have lost '5
grit, until one day the end of Charley Blake
came, sooner than was expected. His life went
at the lust like the snuffing out of a. candle.

After the funeral Sam wont to the town.

“ See here, pard, I want to take a half-inter-
est in that hole in the ground down yonder.”

Sam looked up and saw that the speaker was
Faro Frank, a man whom he had never liked,
though he had much influence with the wilder
portion of the population of High Pine.

“ I want no partner—«I’ve got one and when
I go back on him I’ll be lyin’ in a box about six
feet long, in the bottom of the shaft.”

“ No nonsense, Sam. There’s not another
man in town that would risk the chances back—

: ing you up. There’s a party going to chip into
the game down there, and you won’t have the
cards to play a ’in’ them. But I mean sport;
and can hold a ull hand, every time.”

As he spoke Faro Frank dropped his hands to

" the two revolvers in his belt; but quick as
fighting Sacramento Sam’s hands were on his
own weapons. '

. The two hesitated. The quarrel was near],
joined, but suddenly each turned upon his hee ,

1 , and they walked a art.

“ Hello, what’s t is?” exclaimed a bystander.

A canvas-covered wagon, such as does duty

for a stage in such regions had just driven up,
and halts .
’ ‘It Was a novelty in Hi h Pine—the first that
had appeared there—and l acramento Sam, fol-
lowing the crowd, approached it, just as a loud
cheer arose ifme the bystanders. At the door
appeared a woman, young, beautiful and alone,
who cast an afl'righted glance about her, but
,said, in the sweetest of tones:

“ Can ou tell me, gentlemen, Where I can find
Charles lake?” I

“ I’m sorry, miss you’re a day after the fair.
He‘s gone under; but I’m his partner—Sacra-
. mento Sam.”

As he spoke there was the hollow muffled re—
port of a derringcr, and Sam fell shot through
a the breast, at the very feet of Marion Blake as

she stepped down from the stage. "s

.nH‘APTEe IV,
.A. VOICE FROM THE PAST.

 you lock 'forward,ya dozen years seem,
s the.;ag'0ny of despair, or the, yearning 5v»

 

{Jatience of ho , to be an eternity. When you
ook back, a oxen years are but a flash in» a
dream. / ' _ ' ‘
And so, a dozen years have gone since the
night Whose massacre we have detailed in the
opening chapters, and again a scene opgns upon ‘
a camp by a river side. , ‘ ,’ f
Spread out like a great dull back round to, .
some broad, hastily done picture, t e tawny;
desert stretches away, and away, until it is lost '.
in the trace line of the hills that loom away be- "3

you .

In the foreground, however, there is 3. Wind‘ ,
ing line of greenery, where the river threads,
through the barren plains, gathering wealth on . ,
its banks as it goes. Here and there the thread '
swells out into a little grove; here and there a
by, or in, some dry arroyo there is a bit 
green woods, with their smooth, cool, greenr'
trunks and tiny leaves, growing under the pit-
ahaya—the fruit bearing cactus, that stretches-
its tall trunk a dozen feet higher—and on the
ground the thistly biznaga, the silvery mints,
the browned, hair-leafed grasses; at from liver
to' foot—hills the scene is one of oneliness and
desolation.

Through these deSert plains not so long ago
un pressed by any heel save that of the savage,
there are roadways, and trails—dangerous, but
even well beaten. Not every gold-seeker now
strikes straight for the Sacramento sands: but
many flingr themselves first amon r the fastnesses , , ‘
of nature and the resorts of the re savage, if,,by, ‘
chance, there, among the greatest dangers, they, ' ,
can find the greater gains. - I v

So, this evening. near sunset 3. little party of
mounted men threw themselves somewhat »
wearin from their steeds and made their “
camp for the night butastone cast from the ,
water’s edge. ‘ 

Of the party the majority were men well used . v
to these regions, with all their dangers: and
the were here in the capacity of guides andf
b0 guards for two entlemen, who. though:
fear ess enough, and we versed in the handling-
of all deadly weapons, were traversing these
re ions for the first time. - ,'

no of these men, the motive ower antiw-
leader of the party, was I urray rant. He r
was a strange-looking1 ma to meet u on such ,’
an expedition, for in is face you can d read, ‘ ,
at first lance, nothing buta placid good name.
that on asked to be well fed and to take life;
easily. imbres Matt when he was introduced.~
to him as his chief, could hardly restrain his:
astonishment that such a man should be Willing .
to risk the hardships and dangers of the jail:
ne . 
2%,That’s a lively-lookin eye to sling alongthe/
double sights; and I’d like to see them 'pudgy’
fingers a—griopin’ at the handle of a bowie.‘
Howe. buckinlmayuse would shake them two~
hundred pounds of fat into a jelly. Lordyl.
kin see him a—Wastin’ awpv under the br’illn
sun of an Arizony desert, If he hadn’t atamtis
I’d see him hanged store I’d move arod‘with
sich, a fat-chopped. oilv—tongued, old galoot.” 3’

But Murray Branthad stamps. andconr
and nerve besides, more than Mimhre‘sl W"
dreamed of,  judge ofhuman nature.” 
f1‘3fessed to ; and it was not 10:32”qu

 

t ' dangerous trail.

L fiat-ice 

 

iscovered that this oily little mass of flesh had
mewhere within it a will that even he could
,. t bend, and day by day his respect rose for
xlnsem loyer.
‘The riend and confidantof Murray Brantwas
- a middle-a man, in almost every Way his an-
:tipodes. 'lall, gloomy, seldom s eaking, and
then ins. harsh, imperious way, It alcolm Dane
' had every appearance of being what he was, a.
bold. headstrong and courageous man.
‘ ‘What secret tie there might be between these
. two no one could gueSS; and even Matt Good«
Win'had been unable to learn what was their
exact errand; though he had no doubt that they
had some mining speculations in view. This
waning Matt touched his hat in a sort of half-
military salute and remarked to Malcolm Dane:
‘ “ We’re as like as not to get a touch of fun
near here. If you look along,r yonder mountain
range you’ll see a notch in the line where a pass
uts through the hills. Apache come swarming
out. Of there sometimes, like grasshoppers on a
bender. We’ve hardly reached the line of their
trail yet, for I made it convenient to stop for
' the night on this side of their crossing—place.
All along there, plain as it seems, there is a line
of quicksands, and from that side we are safe
horn attack; while, unless they’ve nosed us out
and.,£ollow on the trail, there’s little chance of
any one that knows the country striking us on

this. Still, it’s just as well to keep your eyes

open. High Pines lies right over yonder, be-
, yond that other mountain notch, and if any-
thin happens, that is your best way to strike. 7
"“ hank you; though perhaps it might be as

2 well to. tell Mr. Brant. t is his frolic, as much
as mine, and he should know the chances for

“.That’s it. He’s so smooth and oily you can’t
hold him in no trap, and so I posted you that
you’d know how heavy to back your hand if a

’ mo .
,giAtter this careless explanation Matt turned
away and engaged his sharp eyes in watching
that the arrangements for the night Were prop-
erly made. The men looked after the horses,
got ready the supper, or talked together in a
'c’areleSs sort of way; while Murray Brant and
Malcolm Dane, a little apart‘from the rest, car-
ried on a conversation in low tones.
“Matt tells me that we are approaching 9.
Perhaps that is the reason
why I feel strangely out of sorts to—night. Yet
‘I never'lcnew such a hit of intelligence to un-
nerve 3336 before. It makes one shiver at the
possibility of o'win childish in old age.”
 .“Mimbres att aways is tellingr stories of
bat kindfand don’t hit very wide of the truth
' either. _ Don’t you know that every foot of this
trailis full of d‘ or? Elem your soul, Mal-
1m, if you are going to be unnerved at such a
home what will become of on when the real,
éctual work begins? If I ’ adn’t seen your
(mirage tried, it I dldn’t know that you had
fly of nerve in the face 0: any danger, I’d
‘ , sewell, heaps!” _
‘Tbanks, It’s not the tanglhle that oven
‘ me; it is always something intangible,

stated

All do. ’I havo felt a nervousness, that,
ridmysell of.” ' ‘

conscience, 1 shouldsay.

 

: start up, and camehrushln‘: tovgard

Get hipped myself when I have nothing to do ,- v l.
but dream over the past. ’ Only cure I know of _- ,
for such a case is to be full of some devilment '
of the present or ‘future. Any special rec01~
lections been bothering you to-da ?’

As Murray Brant spoke he loo ed up with a.

lensant, good-natured smile on his fat face,,yet

one was troubled in s ite of himself. There
was something in the shy gray eye that gave
to him a profound meaning to the jocular
words. ‘

“ Nothing—and yet if my vaguely troubled
thoughts took positive shape it is possible there
might be something to shudder at. I remember
—~o.b, I remember something that befall me to-
day a (10211)) years ago.
on a trail—on this day I tracked him down.”

“ And found him so well that he never could
be lost again for all time. Well well!” con-
tinued Murray Brant, caressing  fat chin
with his chubby fingers, and uttering a low,
gurgling laugh. “ How strange it is: Now
that you remind me of it, I believe this is just
about anniversary time in my life; too. I
wouldn‘t wonder if I u as to look tack twelve
years but there might be omething that the
average man would not care to contemrlate. ,
But I don’t leuk back, you see. I tnly look
forward; and take nay time even to doing that.
I’ve got a very pretty nest egg, and in course of ,
time, when "vc gathered in othcr nest eggs
which I wot of and incubate, I shall hatdi out:
about forty millions. That will do to retire

with, and there will be sufficient enjoyment to I '

take out of those millions to prevent any worr
about those things in the past which are
forgotten.” ,
“But are they forgottenl’? ,'
“To be sure. Do you sup e fortune is
going to play such a scurvy trio as to trip up
our heels just in the high tide of prosperity?
Wait until we get in and you see just what is
before you. I‘ve been Watchin you all day ,
Malcolm, and I may as well to you I didn’t

like your moody way. I wouldn’t have such a, -

look about me, and I warn you that when my

friends don’t take a hint I remove them—some- ‘ '

times” , - .
“You are ri ht, Brant ” answered the other,
with a reckless au h. _“ This is the last Sign of
weakness you sh 1 see in me. As you say,
why should I grizzle over things that are all for-
gotten?” vi .
“ But they are not I” r
The two men bounded to their feet as though

I

a volley of fire-arms had rattled over their _ _

heads. _ I R
In their very ears a m sterious vmce, 001m
from where or whom t ey knew not, utter

those Words in a stern, low and yet distinctly 7 '

audible Whisper.
Revolver in hand the two looked around, but
saw no one near that could have spoken. , _
-What was the meaning of those word 2 Were ’
they spoken as threat or warning? They knew ,
not, and yet, as with pistol in hand they peered

around, it would have gone hard with him who ' ~

uttered them had they chanced to mark 

clown. - a , ‘ , , ’
Mnnbres Matt,~m much surprise, southern-

 

For years I had been 7

  

 
   

While they tried to offer some reasonable ex-
planation for their apparently unreasonable ex-
citement, a cry from one of the men served to
divert their attention.

Right upon a trail to their camp, and at some
distance, dimly limned against the sky, could
be discerned the forms of two riders, advancing
at a gallop—and one of the riders was a
woman.

Mimbres Matt did not lose his caution. He
threw himself upon the bare back of his horse
and went out to meet them. In a few moments
lfie returned, bringing the two strangers with

1m.

Of the new-comers the one was a stout,
heavily-bearded, and well-armed man. The
other was a 'rl~woman of perhaps seventeen,
who sprung ightly from the saddle, ended-
vanced directly to the fire. From one of the
party to another her glances turned, and every
one there saw that her face was one of rare
dark beauty; but only one there was who seemed
to recognize it. Murray Brant, shrinking back a
little, muttered to himself:

“ By heavens, it is Lalaree!”

 

CHAPTER V.
A MIDNIGHT swoor.

As Brant shrunk Back Malcolm Dane stepped

norward and confronted the new-comers. '
- “Well, stranger!” said the heavily—bearded
man, standing before him with a brace of
bridles sli {Bed over either arm, but his hands so
disposed 1: they would drop almost without
a motion upon the handy revolvers that hung at
either side.

“Well, yourself,” retorth Dane, not more
than half pleased with the proud manners that
were almost a challenge. “You seemed in a
wonderful hurry to get into our camp. Now
that you are here just make yourself at home.”

“ Rather—you just bet on that thar. My
name’s Burke, an’ of ye‘r’ flush of grub I don’t
mind of or sling it out about the time you men-
critters eed the annimilés. We’ve rid hard to-
day, on a blamed thin breakfast; an’ ain’t
much more to speak of in my haversack. I
don’t keer so much for myself, but the little
gal kinder weakens when you shut down on the
pervissions. I've a show of dust in my buck-
skin, though, an’ ef you say the word [’11 pay
my footin. I ain’t the kind of a chap that
wants to ring in, an’ I see thar’s a couple of
tenderfoots runs this gang."

Dane accepted the appellation of “tender-
foot” as rather a. dubious compliment; and
felt none too well pleased by the whole of this
man, Burke’s, address.

‘_"You are welcome to our hospitality, such as
it is, and there’s no need to insult us by talking
of Ray. At the same time it would be just as
we if you had thought of the young lady, and
‘ her wants, before you started on the trail, and
' not trusted to the chance of picking up these
same ‘ tenderfeet!‘ at the end of each day.”

' “Bless yer soul, young man. thar‘s no use to
get r'iled with me. ’Tain’t my fault ef we was
118th out without a moment’s warnin’. Fact
is, I jist had a dream. Suthln’ said, ‘ Burke, git
- up an‘ git; thar’s fun at High Pit?) Igot. Ef

 ‘.- '1 V A  I\/:.‘

..> , , ,

   
 
 

     

 

 

handy Barium. " »  a.) 

- ' -'_—

I’m to have a hand in that fun, I ain’t goin’ to I 1 '“
drop by the wayside. Ef I’m to be rubbed out, 

on the road. what’s the use to 10% up with
things I won’t need when I git thar? Ehl You ,
hear me, pard?” ‘2

“ So you are going to High Pine. If that be ‘, ,
the case, we will travel together, I suppose; but
I confess I do not anticipate much fun on the
way, or at the end of the Journey. If however,
fun is the object of your journey, I don’t see 7
why you should have brought the young lad .j .
with you, From what I know of that town, t 
is scarcely the place for her.” '

“Put a peg right thar. Tie a knot in that
string, fur you hit the solid truth, plumb center.
It tain't no place fer Maud; but she’s all I’ve got,
an’ I’m the hull world an’ ther rest of menkmd \
to her. She’s been kinder keepin’ me straight
fur the last few year an’ now, whar I go she
follers. Ten million t ousand Apache couldn’t '
drag us apart—an’ of it’s in the wood I reckon I
kin take keer on her. Ef I can’t, then you watch
an‘ ou’ll see us go under to ether.”

“Still, that hardly explains why you should
have left, wherever you did leave, unprepared
for the journey that you knew had an ending of
such undesirableness." .

“Didn’t I tell yer the devil war a—drivin’? .
Thar, that’s enou h of sich foolishness,” turn—'
ing to the girl, w 0 still stood silent, but listen-
ing to the conversation, and scanning first one
countenance and then another, in a furtive,
though thorough wa . “Be back in a minute,
Maud. Must look a ter the bosses store we see
to ourselves.” .

While Burke was gone, Dane attem ted to '

in some further information from t 9 girl;

or he had learned next to nothin from the
father. But her answers were most y monosyl— '
labic, though she seemed perfectly at home,.
accepting the proffered hospitalities without sign/
of hesitation.

Meantime Murray Brant had withdrawn
wholly from the circle, and stood where the,
light of the camp-fire could not fall upon and v
reveal his features. '

He had watched the two strangers narrowly,
and listened to the conversation between Burke
and Dane with the air of one who was weigh-
ing well some idea just come into his brain.

As Mimbres Matt passed near him he made a
sign that brou lit him to his side. , 5  .

“ Who is is talker? ou must certainly-
know him, for I judge that e is no stranger to
these regions."

“Know him? Of course I know him—only
he has a different name for every camp.
It’s Burke to night—next time he turns up itll
ble J Sues, er Brace, er Geyser Joe, er somethinf ‘ ‘
e se. ~

“ And the girl that is with him?" ;‘ .

“ That’s his darter. She kin ride, an’ shoot,".;
an' foller the trail with the best on ’em but it’s 1
been a year er more sence I seen her. hhe 'lnes..t'
him every now an’ then: but most “on the» "me ‘.
he keeps her hid away. Treat her gent! . par "f"
fur she’s a lady, she is. ef thar is a suspf on
Injun blood their; an‘ he’s a bad man when y
get him r’iled." . . r _  »
“Theygetas far as Frisco sometimesfleh’t
they?” ’ r v .  » 
' i, ,

 

  
   
  
  
    
 

   
   
  
  
  
   
 

    

 

 
   

to a

iut " "

011 ~,‘

I  Dar-Re.

 

; "So I reckon; but you can’t prove it by me.”

“ Ver well. He seems like a rough, quarrel.
some fe ow, that I hardly care to have much to
filly‘to; but treat him well, and if he chooses to
travel with our parw I can’t say anything

 ; against it."

_By this time Burke had come in and taken
his place near his daughter, and a few moments

' _ later the two took their places around the meal

that was spread upon the

_ gl'round, and eat
heartin of t e rude repast.

hen, after some

» ,‘vlittle conversation of which Burke took upon

 -. over

[where Burke and his

 

‘ himself the greater share, they retired to one

side and flung themselves down within the mys—

 tic circle or a hair lariat, with saddles for pil-
0 Iowa» «

Aarangements were made by the rest for
standing guard, and in half an hour silence
rei ed through the little camp.

veral hours p

I  Save those on uard, every one seemed buried
in a

rofound s eep. Yet, after a time, Mal-
ane opened his e '05, as wide awake as
he had ever been in his ii'e. He listened; but
hing was silent. He raised his head
quip ly and looked around; and was startled at
seeing that Brant had just risen from his blan-
ket, and was stealinga away toward the spot
ughter were sleeping.

pane knew that Brant must have a. reason for
his movements—unless he was walking in his
sleep, and he was far too wide-awake and prac—
tical a man to indulge in any such nonsense as
that. What was his intention? ‘Whutever was
his design Dane felt like fathoming it. As
Brant crept away, he, at a little distance, fol-

colm

‘ ‘ lowed him.

'Right to the spot where the two were sleeping

 went Murray Brant. Heav and clumsy though

he might seem, no trailer 0 them all could have
dropped his feet more lightly.

But a few yards away they halted, listened,
and looked around. Dane dropped out of sight
instantly.

, the man shook his fist menacingly

‘  at the'two slee rs.

v where v‘ou lie.
best. loan trust Matt and the Mexicans; and,
Dune can br-assuaged. And this girl, too!
Another reason, now! ’

 

“ Curse you, ill Burke 1” he muttered, " while
you live there is danger in the air. I have you

V at my mercy now, and if I could trust that wild-

eyed partner of mine I’d wi you out just
I’m not sure fiewould not be

From his belt he drewa revolver, and without

', raising the hammer he sighted deliberately at

“' the head of the sleeping man.

 

 "There is moonlight enough to do it; but it
would be awkward  miss. No; I will not run
the risk. I will wait. Nathan and Felipe will
aid me of him for a hundred dollars. and that
will be more certain. Yet after all, it might
be that he forgets. If I only knew. And then
thm'eare others; I never knew how it came that
{never stumbled across them. Life has its
 too, I would trade half of my success to
he assured that I was really forgotten.”
Z'Eee'eaaed muttering, and returned the wea-
side. Not a minute too
 . . , himself; endlhe watched
Watkins'hisway back, With a feeling

Q .

   

 

     

  

 

i.
that there was more m stery about the 
than even he had dreamed of. .

From what he had caught of the muttered sen-
tences, he was sure. that there was a chance for
trouble ahead, and though he was desperate and
reckless enough so far as the world was concern- .
ed, he wanted to consider what were therisks he
ran now, just when fortune seemed opening out
for him, and there was a chance to redeem once
more his shattered fortunes.

Believing that there was much danger of at-
tracting attention if he attempted to re ain his
blanket, and not wishin to remain in urke’s
neighborth he crawl away in a direction
that would take him out of what seemed, some-
how, a dangerous neighborhood.

Awa from the camp he passed, speaking to
one of he sentinels as he went, and finally threw
himself down in the darkness. It was time now
for him to decide how far he was willing to go
with a man who, though rich, and having a name
in the mining world, and without whom his bril-
liant hopes would be broken 'et seemed likely
to stop at nothing. Malcolm one was no lo 1‘
a young man; he could be passionate or co -
bloode 1y cruel; but, all the same, he began of
late years to look more carefully after his neck.

And with this partner of his he saw that there
was a ossibility of risking it.

Pen ing a decision of these points he fell
asleep. ,

How long he slept he could not have told, but
his awakening was rude and instantaneous.
There was a sudden thunder and rush of horses’
hoofs, and as he sprimg, all startled to his feet,
three-score of Apaches charged over the very
spot, opening an infernal chorus as they rode
right down upon the little camp beyond.

CHAPTER VI.
SAVED son sumonrun.

THE sudden charge, the chorus of yells, and
the cracking of 1pistol-shots, fairly bewildered
Malcolm Dane. e awoke from a quiet, dream-
less sleep, to the sternest, most dread realities of
life. Confounded, dazed, and yet full of an in- ,
stinctive antagonism, he bounded to his feet, and
‘erked from his belt the only weapon he had at

and, and fired once, right in the face of the
nearest of his foes. V

A red—skin gave a how] of mortal agony, and
throwing up his arms, fell so close to him that
he could almost have touched him with his foot.

 

It was a daring, but a senseless movement up- i.

on his part. Had he remained quietly crouched
where he lay, it is more than likely that he
might have entirely escaped the notice of the
savages. As it was, they fell apart to either
side, and then closed in once more. He was sur-
rounded; and in another moment was at their
mercy. Though the main body went thundering
on, half a dozen braves wheeled their ponies
sharply and bore against him in one overwhelm-
ing mass. Not a shot was fired, not a knife was
used; but before hisfinger tightened again upon
the trigger, he was _
strong hand had struck him to the earth. 1

He was not senseless, or even severely wound:
ed,.but the ’ weapon having been knocked far
from his hand, he lay motionless under the show.
er of Apaches that leaped down upon him. In a ,

l

 

 

 

 

beaten back, bufleted, ands , ’ '

     
  

\

>10. “ ":1  ' Delay Dam.

 

twinkling a bit of reen hide was twisted about
his wrists and smiles, and he found himself a
boundcaptive, at the mercy of the red fiends,
' who, he knew, if not prevented by outside inter-
: foreuce, in the end would slaughter. His only
hope was that in the fight that now was raging,
his comrades would have so far the best of it
that the Indians might be compelled hastily to

" , abandon him.

Even then it was almost a certainty that they

would brain their captive before they would re-
,lin uish him.

8 cam was not far on, however, and there

the battle ad been joined, almost as soon as the
struggle with the single man. There had been
no check or pause around Malcolm Dane, but
the main line crashed straight on.
_ Dane could hear the noise of the fight, and the
flash, flash of fire—arms lit up the darkness like
the sudden lure of rapid lightning. He heard
the harsh, s rn voice of Mimbrcs Matt, rallying
his men, and knew that in spite of the sudden-
ness of the attack, they had not been taken by
surprise. Every man in that little camp bound-
ed at once to cover, and though the Apache
char e souvht to drive them out, yet it was
toun that the camp had been located so skillful-
ly that nothing but an attack on foot could pos-
srbly revail.

As he Indians swept by, bullet after bullet
swept into their ranks, aimed by men who lay up
on the ground and who cast no shadow and of-
fered no mark to attract a return volley.

. The horsemen of the desert made no halt.

Save a glimpse or two of men taking to cover
asthey came up, they had seen nothing of the
white men, though more than one had felt their
bullets. They fired a volley of arrows at ran-
dom, and rushed by like a cyclone, as though
in hasty retreat.

At no great distance they wheeled again.
Their surprise had beena failure; perhaps large-
ly owing to that first shot of Dauc’s, which
served as an electric warning to his friends be—
yond. They . counted on a surprise, too. No
soldiers were they to fight in a forlorn hope, or
struggle firmly and slowly on through an avenue
of deadly fire until the remnant could at last
meet a brave and dangerous foe in hand-to—hand

at, if they could have surprised by the
quickness of their wheel the white men just
breaking out from cover, the Apaches would
have given the intruders blow for blow, believ-
ing that in the open field they would he cer-
tain to hear them down by sheer weight of
numbers.

No such error as that did Mimbres Matt al-
low, though he felt exultant over the result of
the first attack. He was close at Murray
Brent’s shoulder, and to him whispered his

.30 -
x The mean business, cunnel, an‘ that’s whar
' the con emned galoots made the’r mistake. El’
.they’d struck straight in to steal the bosses. we’d
lied to come out an’ fight ’em, an’ they could ’a’
coaxed us outer kiver nice] . Now. we’ve got
them on a string. They
Youbet’ we won’t let ’61:) make a single stake
ion as we kin deal with a sanded deck.”
 is Dane,;though?; Hoeshotildha

o'n’t hold a trump,

 

been here with us, but I have seen nothing‘o! ,

him since the attack began.” :1
“ He is down at the other end of the .string,.

with Felipe and Nathan, I reckon lookin’ arter " a
He thinks as much of that fill of'~

the stock.
his as if she was his squaw an" kids, with a ht

smart sprinklin’ of dust thrcw’d in. Thar! 

Like as not he fired that shot.”

“I have my doubts. “The was it that fired
the warning shot,«that just in time woke the
cam

be something in what you say. I’ll— Wait!

Hyer they come again. Keep as low down as. i w
you kin, an’ shoot straight. ”  .

' The second attack of the red—skins was not

even as vicmus as the first; and they swept away; I

in the direction whence they had ori inally
come, after a volley or two from either side, b
which Brent’s party received no damage, thong
more than one Indian winced or fell under a;
leaden messenger. '
But hardly had the charge gone b when a

yell of triumph arose from a. score 0 throats,’ I I I

and sounds as though from Pandemonium broke
loose, assailed the ears of the startled whites,
while almost at the same time. from the opposite
side, they heard the noise of horses’ feet, and

looking in that direction saw two dark forms /

dash away.
“ Hal
am much mistaken. The coward!
those yells?” .
“By lieavensl they’ve taken in some one '0!
the crowd. Listen, look! They have a prisoner,
and are carrying him awa ."
“A thousand dollars to ten that it is Dane!

Curses on it, I cannot afford to lose him just 

now. Mount your men, and we will charge.
We must rescue him.”

-“ We can try it, an’ I on’y wish we could; but
we haven’t the crowd to do that kind of fightin'.
The three Greasers are solid behind a tree, or
crawlin' inter a camp with a knife in their fists;
but take ’em ag’in a gang 0’ roarin’, red-hot
’Pash, an’ they’ll run to a man.” 1

Matt spoke rapidly, though without much
thought. Hewwas watchin what was t nspir-
ing on the moonlit plain.
was‘sweeping away, and in their ver
still bound hand and foot was Malcolm ane.

Taking in the scene with his nick eye. and
urged once more by the voice of urray Brant
at his elbow he gave his orders, and from'the

line of shadowed timber his men, heretofore in-’ '
' but,
quickly they were in the saddle ready to 

visible, leaped out. No time was w

to the rescue, though there was none there not
hopeless of the result. ' '

Yet just as they were launching on their 

Matt held up his hand. ,
“Hark! Some one is stirring up a hornets"

nest, if they only hold them a moment!” " V "
True it was, there wagumusicjn the air. ', ,
When the Apaches med away {from their

second attack they did not gotogether e

handed. Malcolm Dane was picked upfront
ground and flung "
brave, What hi5 fete?! VA Bait

 

g7, ,
“ ngve Felipe credit fur that; but there may 7

Yonder goes our visitorse—Burke and“ 7 ‘
his strange-looking half-breed daughter—or ‘I '.
He runs at ‘ .. a
the first alarm! But what is the meaning of ‘ ‘

he band of ndians": '
midst, . , _.

igmumu‘pd‘m'

'  bar-kyle. 1‘ “4- T

 u?

 

0!. Beaten back from their sudden attack,
the loss of several of their number the
565’ risoner would be but reserved for the
tortures ey were so anxious and knew so well
~ how to inflict. Hope of rescue he had but little,
and ’he bun there like an animal going to the
’shambles. fialf a mile they flew over the plain,
captors and, the captured—and then came a di-
-~version when least expected, for the eyes of all
‘ turned with anxiety to the rear.
. From the sheltering line of timber to the left
 3 there suddenly dashed a single horseman, mag-
nificently mounted, on a steed of size and
, strength, that seemed fair] to skim over the
‘ as, horse and rider urtled down upon
e d ‘ of the red-skins like a thunderbolt.
_ The ruler was but a youth, if one judged from
~ his form which was hardly up to the middle
w size, but 6 managed his horse with a graceful
' ease that betokcned both skill and strength,
Ithough the reins lay lOOScly across the neck of
the animal which he managed entirely by the
= iron pressure of his knees. He was dressed en-
, tirely in black, his loose garments clinging
' round. him in graceful lines, while over his shoul-
der there floated along black plume, fastened to
lacng a great golden buckle, in which
' ,there, bla a single brilliant which, though not
fifM‘gflgant in Sue, was of the purest water,
and seemed to send out a million scintillations
and coruscations. ,
, The jewel above was scarcely as brilliant as
»the dark eyes that flashed beneath the broad
v rim of his black sombrero. Keen, piercing, and
set as though the youth was animated with the
most desperate of purposes, they surveyed the
scene, or gave a glance at the land that lay be-
pond the rushing squadron of A )achcs.
- Inigither hand the youth clutched a heavy re-
yolverlan’d he rode ready to open the ball
with them A the moment he was discovered,
V hough not a. shot did he fire until he was al-
ggst Within arm’s length of the nearest 1n-
11;
~ Then there was a. rattle and crash of fire-
. Ian‘nsas thouin a whole platoon was firing by
file. The “histl histl” of uickly-aimed are

wit

rows, and the loud cry peaed forth from a '

gimen throats, as the red-skins wheeled to meet

in. .
’ But from the mouth of the youth there rose
no answering shout, though on his lips there
wast. smile of strange confidence. Right and
{left rose and rung those deadly revolvers, and
' right into the heart of the mass he rushed clear-
‘in his way ‘ ht to the risoner.
- Eel! a dozen raves ha fallen; asmany ar-
rows had through, or huuiegrOm, his
clothing. ore than one blow had n aimed
his head by hands that never fell—at least
Wu him: through all he burst, like one who
here a charmed life, and reached the side of the
61 tive.
" other shot he fired; that tumbled from
pony the A ache who held Malcolm Dane.
with a q'_ ck exertion of strength. SBllela‘
.heswung; him up and across the
mmmm‘hdsse“  r
,'_ ,a , onwar in 1-:
m h now in his right hand

 bowie, ulna.

 

struck fiercely with its point at each foe who
came within reach.

Through it all Malcolm Dane was conscious,
and in his deep excitement never felt the thou
that were now fairly eating their way into his
flesh. He know, though he could not see, that
a thunderbolt had torn asundcrthe ludian ranks; -
that some one had snatched him from 'their '
hands, and carried him clear of the rubble, out
upon the broad moonlit plain. Fastmr and faster
he was borne along; and then, with a wild glow
of satisfaction helieard a savage cheer as Mim-
brcs Matt leading his own party charged the
red-skins.

“Gently, gently, my friend. Before we‘go
further loosen these cords and put me on my
feet. You have savcd my very soul, and I
thank you, but I will fccl better as a free man.”

“Reserve your thanks; they are a mistake. ,
Instead, olfcr up your prayers to Heaven, that
in another moment it may receive your soul.”

“ What moan you?"

“I have saved you to slay you. By no mor-
tal hand save mine must you die. At the risk
of my own life I snatched you from their hands
because hy mine only must you die. But first,
look me in the face, and if you dare to tell me
that you know me not—mo, the avenger—then
perhaps you may go free.” -

As he oke the young man stooped down and
with his oft hand raised Malcolm Dame’s head
from where it hung, and turned it so that their
eyes should meet. ’

For an instant only two pair of eyes, strangely
alike, met in a double glance, and then Danes
head fell back and he cried in agony:

" Oh, God! my brother!”

“ Ay, thy brother’s wraith, come for you—

cancel See, the knife is in my hand, and thus
D strike the death—blow to your felon heart-
icl’ "

And with ‘that word upon his lips, the knife
came down.

At the same instant there was the crack of a
rifle near, blending with a cry of mortal pain.

CHAPTER VII.
A LIVING THREAT.

MALCOLM DANE was brave, in the ordinary
acceptation of the term, and as careless of his
life as most men; but for the moment he was
all unmanned. As a prisoner to the Indians he ‘
had been willing to take his chances, and had
indeed rather made up his mind to die. But
when hy such desperate courage he was snatch-
ed out of the clutches of his captors, hope re-
vived so high in him that any new revulsion .
would be terrible. When he heard the venge
fnl voice of his new captor, when he gazed into
his eyes and saw the unbounded hate there, and
above all a face in the image of one that had
been dead to him forr'many and many a year,
and for which in the past he had been Willing
to sacrifice life imam—when. in addition, he felt
that in the steel-knit fingers of this boy—man
he was little more than a child—he uttered the
crvthat was echoed by, or mingled with, the “
rifleishotp . p ,

Atithe, 'same time he felt the wincing of the”
. Oflng; man’s frame, as though he '

uched more or less sharply bytholeaden mga

 

-12
sills, and the descending knife swerved from its
course. ‘

That instant was taken advantage of. It was
Malcolm Dane‘s only chance, and he was quick
‘to avail himself of it. He flung up his arms,
bound though they were, and toppled oil', fall-
ing heavily to the ground. He caught a glimpse
of the dark forms of horse and rider flitting
away, and then lay silent and motionless, wait-
. . ' infito see what was next to come.

' ‘ is friends came. The Apaches were in such
thoroughly demoralized retreat that pursuit
was not only unnecessary but positively useless.
But more than that, they had seen Dame’s rescue,
and though not understanding it, gave three
cheers as they saw the simuge horswman dash-
ing away with the bound form 1 ing before
him, and they turned upon his trai , supposing
that he would Soon halt.

The moonlight was too indistinct for them to
see or understand the bit of play between the
two, but they did see an Indian suddenly rise,
take deliberate aim, and then heard a cry of pain
from the two on the one stood, and it seemed as
though one gave a convulsive spring into the
’air, and dropped athwart their pathway, a.

cogpse.

till they did not know whose formjt was that
was lying upon the plain until Mimbrcs Matt

. knelt and ilaced his hand upon his breast.

“Ho! 11 right, boyees! His heart hes the

action of a steam engine, and he’s wu’th a dozen

. dead men. But I’d give rocks to know who the
chap was who chipped in, an7 why he’s lit out so
very lively. Hope these fools won’t run them—
selves intoa hornets’ nest tryin’ fur that red-
skin. He’ll slide through the grass slicker than
a snake. If they kin flush him, an’ drive him in
on his pards. so that we can know where to
place him, that’s all I want. Come, Mr. Dane,
you’re all 0. K. Look up here an’ tell us who
pulled you through.” »

Matt, as he spoke, out the thou . , and moist-
ened the lips and brow of Dane rem the can-
teen that hung at his shoulder.

Witli‘ a shiver Dane came back to his senses.

, “ What was be? What meant he? Whither
has he gone? Great Heaven, how terribly near
I was to deathl" '
. “ Right you are, there. Ef it hadn’t been for
Y ,him there would have been an end of you, cer-
' tain. Ef you ever see him ag’in you kin jist
tell him that I, old Matt Goodwin, say he’s the
' boss—an I oughter know what flghtin’ is. I
ho 9 he wa’n’t plugged bad, fur I hate to see a
fol or O'in out of the wet jist fur chippin‘ in to
help his friend, let alone a el’ar outsider. I take
it you didn't know him, did you?”

“I had but one look at him, just before that
Indian in ambush fired his shot: and I can de—
clare that his face looks wonderfully like one
that I once know. He winced after the shot,
and cast me down. so that I have reason to be-
lieve that he was hard hit. and that it is not
likely I will see him again, since he shot away
like an arrow from a bow, leaving me with the
senses half-knocked out of my body. But I am
all right now. Pay no more attention to me.
bug: that the red devils do not return and
as you nappi

I  “Pi

n .1!
Igain’t the kind

Dinar ,

 

m as, Felipe

and his brother are on the watch, an? as,
have a thunderin’ big love fur their

you will hear sounds from home the minute
they heave in sight again.”

Sure enough the two Mexican brothers were V

dimly to be seen in the distance, motionlesst
gaging the direction in which the Indians had
6 . . '
At a. low whistle from Matt, they turned and v
came silently in.

“No one wants to sleep any more to—night,  ,

an” so, of you ain’t eetchin' fur another slu'im-.
midge', I‘d advise to pull up stakes an’ float out’
fur yonder gap in the hills. This ain’t the only
crowd on the wargmth, I'll bet high: tm’ of
thar‘s trouble ahea ,
at High Pine, the better all ’round.”

The su gestion was made to Murray Brant,

who, all t is time, had been remaining perfect] : , ~ L

the sooner they knowit L ’

silent. He spoke now, but his words were a -‘ . , ,

dressed to Malcolm Dane.

“ I can’t blame you for losing your nerve a.
little; but all the same I’d advise you hereafter
not to let your wits go wool—gatherin . This
seeing ghosts by moonlight don’t exact y a ree
with my idea of a partner. Hereafter oat

quicker, and don't fly up in the air when the ' r _

fun’s all over.”

“ If it had not been for that first shot of mine
I’ve an idea you wouldn’t be here diScussin what
you don’t understand. For that matter, don’t
understand it either; but one thing I’ve learned
—-—to keep a bright lookout in the future. As to
the man that saved me, it’s not likely that I’ll
see him again. I certainly don’t want to." '

Though the Indians had disa

4

,

ared from i ‘

PDQ
sight, there was no doubt but that they would .yg,

hover around within striking distance, and so,

in silence, the camp was broken up, and with) " ‘H

watchful care the journey was pursued, the hand

steering right acress the short journada that ’ ,'

ended with the foot-hills they had, at sunset,
deseried in the distance. ,
The attack had only hastened their move-
ments by a little, for an early start had been de- .
cided upon when cam was pitched, and if they
pressed on without ha ting it was almost certain

_ that they would reach water by sundown of the

following evening.
Nevertheless it was a
that admitted. of no stragg 'ng, for about the

len journey; and one >‘

middle of the day they saw a line of dark forms ‘. '

away behind them telling them that the Apaches
were still in the rear. and that it would need
but little encouragement to hava them make"
another swoop. From‘ some direction or other
they had received reinforcements. and now the

band was larger than it was at the time of the ' 

attack, decimated as it had
born fray. _,

“ There‘s right smart sprinklin’ 0v the yellow N
dust at High Pine, but it’s Satan’s own jobto

run the redskins, gettin’ in; an’ it’s mm .

worse fightin' the read-agents gettin‘ out.” 4 V
“Road-agents! Can’t you turn out a. few;
more obieetlnnahle features? I thong?» the“-
journcv there, its isolated position and . cost
of mining was the principal objection,
they begin to seemvthe “polite!
trouble.” w r u , 
it 011, High  is Eyelyz it 153  it

been in that stubf'_ I,

 

‘ will find him

i V ' i.   "

 

l ,
b.9510de you into such a thing as a mining in»
rest, you’re in for no end of trouble, too;
gh if you have the nerve and experience,
re s millions to be made there.”
, y, in Heaven’s name, didn’t you tell me
all this when I first talked to you of the trip? I
't need to run all the risks for a little more
‘ got the filthy lucre. It’s well enough for Dane
" here; but I’ve made my ile. and needn’t have
been led away to see a s iaft floored with gold,
and lined to the roof up with diamonds. ”
- Brant The in some heat, but he made noth-
', ing of! o Mimbres Matt, who gave a laugh, as
he answered: .
“‘ Business, 'pard, business. I wanted to get
u mvself; an of Pd ut you up to the nature of
the lay-out you mip t have took water. Then
' What Would have come in at?”
 :“There seems to he a rush for High Pine.
» There was that braggart that came into camp
last night and then slipped away like the coward
that he was. What does such a man as he

.;V want?”

“ He’s no slouch, an’ ef-he cut an’ run for it,
it wa’n’t till the fun was over. You’ll see him
thar, an' the he s of High Plne that tackle him

I hard wclimb. If you want a
. . man that understands mining‘ cl’ar down to the
, ted rock, go for him.”

\“Not very likel . He’s not the kind of a
, man I like. He ta res water too sudden. If he
had (ought it outlast night, now, I might have
put a good thing into his hands.”

“ You don’t give him a square show. You can
bet our last stake that he had his reasons.
Mob he thought he wasn’t treated right in
‘ our camp. You’ll allow thar was some lectle
" ‘; coolness about the way we took him in. Then
-» I thar was tlfe gal, his darter. He’s got her to

look arter' an’ arter he’d let go his shootin’-
irons fer all he was worth he just slung the hufl‘
for Bi h Pine. He’s white. though, if the gal is
a latte ofl color. When he puts her in cache
he’ll come out n-b’ilin’, of that ain‘t no word on
' us that.”

Mimbres Matt did not hesitate to speak a

i 'V ’ 00d word for the man who had seemingly

eserted them, although he had paid but little
attention to him while in cam , and it was plain
that Brant not only did not li e him, but seemed
anxious to awaken the prejudice of the rest
against him.
,, The conversation stopped at this point: and
. as mile after mile was ssed, and the toilsome
march began to tell all eon men and horses a
sullen silence pervaded the little band. i
.. , ' Sunset, however, as the wind began to blow
cooler over the wastes, and the foot—hills were
close at hand, and in the far distance they could
catch no glimpse of pursuing horseman. or see
nothing before them to bar their march, the
spirits of all seemed to grow lighter.
. " “The land of promise is opening before us.
Brant,” exclaimed Dane. “ There’s millions be.
fore us, and it seems to me I can hear the jingle
of our yellow-b0 3 already. And your other
ittle game—ab, rant. though I become rich as
msus you’ll gather in more than your share
the spoils; Gold is nothing to you—you have
aye been lucky—but you are going to win
 gold.” ,

 

“Wait, my boy,” answered Murray Brant
with something of a rapt look drifting across his
Oily face. "There is one thing that balks suc-
cess, and it may stand right here, with both
hands outstretched to beckon us back. For a
dollar I would stop.”

"What, turn and lose all that has bten cast
into the venture? Once for all I demand to
know your intentions. You would bankrupt
me in hope and purse, for you know my last
dime is invested because I believed your pledged
word.”

“Tut, tut, man, don’t fly so high. When the
l"ad drops all you have to do is to pull out and
try again. Mon don’t often aocuse me of a want
of nerve—and, by heavens, you sha’n’t. I’ve
said I would guarantee you from loss—now
doubt me if you dare.”

The fat, Itiidgy hand arose like a flash, and
straight at Malcolm Dane‘s head was leveled a
revolver.

“Hold, Brant, we are mad to quarrel here.
Have it as you will. I might know you would
not turn back without at least one look at the
grant that I was lucky enough to secure and
which the world knows already that you have
gone to develop. Your courage has been too
well attested before now. And by it you have
won success.” I

“ It is because I had the courage to strike the
hack trail the moment I saw I was on a false
scent that I have succeeded. That is the cour-
ige that wins. I nevei'throw good money after

ad.

“ And you never desert a partner?”

“ That depends."

For the last time the two men hesitated. Then
Malcolm Dane, thrilled with a fear that sooner
or later he would be a broken plaything in the
hands of his partner, exclaimed:

“ In Heaven‘s name turn then. I absolve you
—nnd will go on my way alone. I have put to
last dime in your hands; keep it and cry quits! ’

As suddenly Brant’s mood changed.

“ No, we go straight on. Here is my hand to
the end: a hand I have never given you yet, and
a hand that never lied. Ta e it and we are.
partners to the death. Him who strikes at
you ,I will strike—you will defend me at any
cost.

The hands joined. the compact was made; and
at that instant they heard a cry from the men
in their rear. ’

Turning, they looked.

Amounted man (lashed suddenl
by them, riding within a dozen yar
passed, he shouted:

“ Malcolm Dane, remember! The debt is not
yet paid. Something still saves you; but here
is a death to one of your tools. I know him, and '
mark him thus.” ‘

As he spoke the almost phantom figure threw
up his hand, pointing to the rear. 'lhere was a
flash and a report, and one of the Mencans,
fifty yards behind, pitched heavin from the
saddle.

“Number one!” shouted the stranger of the
night before, and bending low in his saddle his
horse bounded away like a flitting shadow, hem
im;y his rider untouched, away item the ball! .1
that hurtled after them. ' .

up to and
, and ’as he

 

  
  

x

As he" vanished, Murray Brant drew rein;
“‘Number one,’ he said; is it Felipe that is
stricken down? What fresh mystery is this?”

And prone upon the plain uy Felipe, with
brains oozing out from the jagged wound in the
center of his forehead. VVhon the two had
recognized the f ruitlessness of pursuit and heard
the mocking laugh of the fugitive as he passml
unscathed the fire of the revolvers of Miinhrvs
Matt, who was far in a'lvnnr-o, and had shouted
to Nathan, who ilitted by in instinctive haste to
avenge his brother‘s death they sought the side
of the fallen man; but tit-re was not even a
- q'iiver of the limhs or a lingering breath.

“ You are living by a madman’s crotchet,”
said Brant, coldly. “ The meaning of this I
know not; but I will keep my vow, beware that
you do the same.”

Very near to death once more had been Mul-
calm anc, and he realized that his life or that
of the young; stranger must soon be one of the,
forfeits of the {gambling game in hand. “'hat
further might hive passed between the two was
interrupted by wild cries, and the rattling dis-
charge of fire-arms, coming distinctl from the
canyon in the hills, toward which t eir course
had been turned.

“ Listen! The boys have run him to a hole.
His life or ours, Brant, come!"

And the two dashed away toward the pass,
from whence issued the sounds of battle.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
mn- HAWKS or men mun.

THE forms that Brant and Mimbres Matt
seen dash away from the camp after the brush
with the Apaches were, of course, those of
Burke—as the mun with many titles new chose
to call himself—and his daughter. In the sharp
short struggle, as Matt had surmised, he had
played his hand for all it was worth, and his
Weapons, as they spoke, seldom failed to record
their tale, though throu h it all he never once
lost his coolness, nor di Maud give any symp—
toms of the weakness that is generally supposed
to be part of the nature of her sex, but crouched
at his shoulder, as watchful, us wary and al-
most as death-dealing as himself.

When the Apaches had \xhec'e'l. and given
their second volley, as they dashed. by, Burke
rose up calmly, and gathered the few things
that lay upon the ground.

“ Come, Lalaree, thar’s either an end to this
,trollc, er it ain’t. If it are we ain’t needed

'. h er—et‘ it ain't we kin do more good gittin’
n ong the road to High Pine. 'We kin raise ther
vamp elf they don’t come in clost ahind us, but

'I don’t want to be corraled hycr. Life’s too
short, an’ it ain’t ther place fur my bloomin’

leotle {lower 0’ the mount’in i"

The girl followed him without hesitation, or
sign of fear" yet, when they had burst away
unchallenged from the camp, and had gallopcd
perhaps half a mile into the open plain, and
, card the sounds of the distant desperate fight
,; that was being we ed by the one man who was

.bpldly char 'ng in the savage band to snatch
> from” their ds their risoner, Malcolm Dane,

1 they halted and looke irrosolutely in that di-
recth.

\

  

  

{Bandy uni-hes

 

     

“ Thet’s a. live] skrimmldge, Maud, an’ efI’d.
thort that war $1011 a. chance I’d never pulled
stakes till it war over. I ain’t no love, somehow,»
fur that party", but I ain’t goin’ back on a
white man of I do think he’s a scallywag an' a.
fee.

“They must certainly have followed up the
Indians and brought on the fight again—though
I should have thought that old plainsman at"
their huad would have held them in from such
madness. Their true policy would have been to,
make a brush for the hills at once sothat the
Indians could not head them 03, and attack
them in the gorges. The are well enough ’
mounted and strong enoug to fear no stern‘
chase, or no attack upon the open plain. ”

“ True fur you, little woman; but this yere’s
sometliin’clse. Thet’s none—man fou’t, or my
cars licv lost the’r gift. He rattled of! livel
while it lasted; but the fun’s all over now.
missed it, leetle gal, but I ain’t half sorry, ’cos
it’s your account." ,

Nevertheless he heaved something of a. sigh as
he touched lightly hishorseis rein, and, wheeling
once more, bore away again toward the far dis-
tant gap in the mountains.

“ I trust you do not forget your duty to your
fellow—men on my account,” said the girl, after
a while returning to the subjeCt.

“Leetle one, I’ll tell you gos l truth; it!
warn’t healthy than I’d sooner ght a. dozen
reds, knife to knife, or pistol ag’iu’ war arrer, '
than one prowlin’, sneakin‘, ondcrhauded white
man, ’pecially ef he hes the rocks to back him.

I lied a warnin’——an’ I got, same es 1 roasted
out or Muskwter Bar."

“ A warning?”

“ Yes, or a dream. I thort a. condemned ole
cuss war peepin’ thru’ the sights ov a. leetle
piece of iron with a hole in it, an’ I thort his
finger war on thcr trigger, an’ be war all ready
to let her go. Wu], I’m markin’ thet cuss, (aye
see? I‘ll meet him ug’in—maybe I’ve met In
afore—an’ when I’ve got you cached, an my
irons level on him, thar won‘t be any let up, an’ v
he knows it. But I couldn’t call him hyer, ’ith
you around. Something might happentome,
it’s time m turn war a-comin’, an’ in that camp
what wou d hev become of you, my bloomin’
flower ov the foot-hills?” ,

“ ()f me? I could have protected myself as I
have done more than once, even from—but let
that pass. If on have uught to fear from that
man, if he is liger to cross your path, beware. . .
He is a villain that would sto at nothing. Bet-
ter to shoot him down on sig t than to risk his -
slow, hidden, but deadly stops upon your trait? ,

Burke turned and eyed the girl ,sha‘rply. "
There was a. concentrated heat in her tunes, 0?! i
and leisurely spoken though they were, that: ;‘
made him suspect that there was something!»-
low the surface. but he asked no questions, and '
the strangely-assorted pair again node on in fl
silence, and dawn found them far on theirun- .
molested wag.

Throuzh t e day they pursued. thelrJourne'y
not recklessly but with a. careful haste. m
would lcaVe some reserve of strength to their »
gallant animals, even at the close of their Weary, " ‘
waterless, double-day’s journey. r f ‘  i '
Once or twice they caught a glimpse.“ flu

     
       
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
   
 
 
   
  
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
 

‘ ' ale-Egg I“:

I“ ,

._._:»*.';l‘..._.ammiamow_

an»
‘r

 

 

     
      
        
      
     

eh

     
        
          
 

   

 

  

' " atween us.

 

r ’1 I But in either one there was

 

 

Which. they had so unceremoniously lef
, ,win' to the inequalities of the plain an
the fact t Burke seemed inclined to take such
edvauta e of them, even to losino‘ time and
miles, t ey were never long in sight. Yet at
‘, each successive view they seemed to be nearer.
”' ‘5 They don’t save the’r mustangs much, so I
‘ » B’pose Matt means to camp at the waiter—hole
outsuie,” muttered Burke, as he saw, near sun-
‘ set. the following party coming on ut'a hand
. .gallop,and now quite near. “ Ouless they foller
us up we’ll ush on an’ camp at the three-mile
aiming. I on’t want no trouble tonight; but
0 e Bridger’s ghost can‘t tell what might hap-
pen of I got my talkin’ tools laid {fur thet oily
manfi carkase, so I’ll try an’ skip out er range
fur ther present, an? when we git to Hirrh Pine
21.1mm? my thing about ther deiiwhtrui
r fiendish cry ther civilerzashun—my Wor ‘s es
good es his, an’ ther’s on’y a. question 0v tools
But ef he should be actooally trail-
in’ ov me tor—night, let him look out. Six to one
Geyser Joe don’t take water, even ’ith that de-
- oeivin’-lool:in’ devil in ther lead.”
He listened a moment, but heard no sounds,
, though even at this instant those in the rear
3 were discussing him at no reat distance, and in
i no, very friend! manner. on he led the way.
»- ‘ dashi'gg along 1; 0 surface of the, as yet, bare y
mark canyon that led into the heart of the
' mountain range.
' The way, save for a gentle ascent, was even
as a floor, and now the horses sped along with a
V vi or thatseemedmagl'callyrenewed. Without
a‘ oubt they snufled t a still distant water pool,
in the refreshin coolness of the evening air,

1 gglowin thou h t e west yet was with the crim—

son em ers o the dying fires of day.

On, and still on into the canyon they dashed,
and on either hand the sides leaped suddenly
and precipitously up.

a , MTrhen suddenly came a cry, as of a dozen quick
crashes of thunder blent, merged into a single

roar.
. uHalfln I
It wasno one man gave voice, but half‘a score,
that, hidden on both sides of the gulch, spoke
inconcert, and almost at the instant a sin 1e
« ' man, directly above, stepped into sight, as Bur e
drew his horse back on its haunches.

“ We are twelve to one and the Hawks of the
Trail. We never miss the man we have lined.
Throw 11 your hands.” ‘

' “Up t ey are!” shouted Burke as his hands
' , went upward like a flash. ,
balanced a heavy
, . revolver, one poised straight as s. sunbeam for
_ the heart of the outlaw.
 “ I’m Geyser J08 from Texas, with an empty
,buckskin.'an’ I hev the drop on you. Let me
' . The first move of a finger I Plug you,
.plumb center. Watch em, La] , an _ the first
jigs) of. a head, above them rocks tell me, an’ I ll
0,. The won’t rise till heflcalls them i”
‘th revo ver in either hand the girl faced

o

‘9‘ ge of reeks upon the opposite side of the

,

[mybgfifedflessz  cool; and for an instant
I L . . ea

when“

, _ u . , .
1‘  ‘ or ogbthe 1121ka had {impeded fairly;
. w 6 r0' c'in roe an re ea

numwshfmfi right ’ror his heart

 

wasleveled a. wee. n which, in the hands that
held it, was little ikely to miss. I ~’ ,
Yet a frown flat was not born ' of humid?
cupidity darkened the face of the Hawk. -
“Geyser Joe—4m! I know you now. My life
is in your hand; but the devil himself cannot
save you from our clutches. Ha, hai You have
run your neck into the noose at last. Go on. We
grant you free passageway to High Pine; but
once there our v ings will shadow you, our steps
be on your trail; and when you come out it will,
he feet iirs‘, if your Ct‘l‘l'lOD corpse is lifted from
the ground ,wbcre it first drops. Andy yonder
half‘brcod, yonder Indian girl—traitor that you '

are! Mote-hearted! snake in the grass! ren‘e ado , '
ass 

devil! I swear that she too shall Suffer!
on: to High Pine the way is open, and you need
not fear. It is there the jaws of the trap will
closeil’

The voice of the man rolled out with sava e ' '
distinctness and deadly hate, but he faced Bur a
without a motion that would indicate a thought
of foul play. How it was to end was not so
easy to guess, since it was a terrible risk to take
the bandit at his word, and go forward with
the carbines or pistols of the dozen concealed ‘
men ready to mark him down when his back -
was turned.

Maud broke the spell. From behindarock
she saw a head cautiously rising with a face
laid closely to the stock of a carhine that was
settling down to a deadly aim at Burke, who
was still covoringg the outlaw with his pistol.

“ Fire!” she exclaimed, and at the same in—
stant her own weapon spoke, just a second be- -
fore the ball from the outlaw’s gun whistled
harmlessly but close above Burke’s head.

As quickly did Burke’s revolver speak, and,
the mm above, with a gasyiing cry, flung his
armswildly around as he fell eavin to the rook.

Then from behind each rock that had been
their shield, the hidden outlaws rose, and began
a. rattling fire upon the two, who, like arrows ,
from bows, darted forward, making their way
toward the gloom, depths of the, canyon that
stretched awn be ore them. - ‘ ' , ‘

“ Hist! hist! ’ the leaden hailstoncs hurtled'hy.
“Death! death!” shouted half a dozen outlaws
who, at some distance ahead, were clambering ‘
down the sides of the canyon to cast themselves
into the path of the fugitives. H

Geyser Joe set his teeth hard and led the We ,

firin as he rode, though in the gathering dar -, I '_

nose is shots could be sent with no such cer-
tainty’as that which he aimed at the man who,“

high in air, had stood bathed, in the last streak . ,

of light that came from the now closed western
doorway of the day.

Yet on the swept, until.
ing bandits

'ust as the descend- ,
ad sprung lig tly athwart' thong“
path with leveled wea (ms, there rose a sudden

cry from Lalaree. bullet from above had _
crashed through the horse’s spine and he had '
sunk with one sudden stumble to the ground.

Then the men in front closed in, even as '
Burke halted at the cry. ‘ - _V ‘ '

How far the girl had been flung, how bamy
harmed, he knew not.» It was enough that she
was down, and that in another instant his toes -
would be life him,,overbearing him by sheer
force of We ght and numbers. ;

 

  

   

 

 

leaving a delicate, rose-tinted bloom, an

 

-‘lorgot. Water! Asurgeon!”

  

‘ Dandy

ark/6.

 

“ on, on!” shouted a clear, ringing voice; “ a

' » friend tothe rescue!”

In the moment of supreme need there came
the resounding strokes of nearing hoofs, and
fairly skimming the floor of the can on there
swept a splendid steed, on whose sad le hung a
scarcely visible rider, whose hand almost brush—
ed the ground.

“ So, Starlight! steady, boy i" he muttered, in
a lower tone, which the intelligent animal seem-
ed to hear and understand.

And then up into his saddle he swung once
more, with an easy grace, and c ing: “On,
on!” he raced side by side with yser Joe,
though his steed was doubly weighted, for in his
arms was clasped the form of Lnlaree.

Unharmed they burst away, the sounds of
shot and pursuit dying away behind them; and
this time there was no hideous look of vengeance
on his face, which was calm and gentle as a wo—
man’s, though the rescuer was the young man
who, the night before, had aimed the knife-
thrusk at the reast of Malcolm Dane.

“Friend or foe?” ueried Burke with a istol
poised, the h he re rained from firing. “ peak

nick, an’ ve me yer handle er [’11 drop ye,
3m h the gal’s in yer arms.”

“ g friend, for the night at least, and my
handle is Dand Darke of Angels. Lead on,
Geyser Joe, ori you choose follow me, fer this
road is lined with danger, fer you and fer me,
ever inch to High Pine.”

“ e’r’ right, an’ it’s still a long trail to trace.”

CHAPTER IX.
DANDY DARKE CHIPS IN.

'1’!!! female population of High Pine was not
extensive, and the preponderance was Mexican
and half-breed, haggard frowsy and almost
unsexed by contact With t e ruder elements of
the various mining—camps through which the
had percolated before at last reaching this

lace of seemingly uttermost exile—High Pine.

he arrival of a woman under an circum-

 

" stances would have created something of an

excitement; but the tragic surroundings to the
advent of Marion Blake made the. interest
doubly intense, and the rush with which those
in the neighborhood closed uglto the s t crea-
ted a regular stampede t 'therw among
those at a distance.

Marion Blake was.no ordinary girl, either,
though her long, dark eyes burned for a moment
with a lustrous ll ht, and a surge of vivid color
rose to her chee , and then died away first

(1’ then
a ghastly whiteness. Even her full, beautiful
lips, paled though even the great and sudden
shock oculd not alter their utter loveliness of
Sign» and outline. Of a truth, she was marvel-
o y beautiful as she shrunk back a step, with
her cloak dro pin away from one superny
rounded shoul er isclosing a perfectly outlined

‘ form, and one w ite, slender hand upraised.

From the body to the crowd she turned her

' e . r
‘- W011“, what does this mean? M brother dead,
I and now

friend and partner s sin at my feet?
you here? Will you let the fiend go
punished!‘ Oh, help him! Here, quick! I

 

feet half-bewildered, not knowing which

She spoke rapidly, and a little wildl , but - -
self-possession was coming back to er. Sh

sprung to the side of the wounded man 7- v

raised his head upon her lap, and stroked back
the hair upon his forehead, where the death-
damp was already gathering.

The shot that tore through and through Sac-
ramento Sam stunned at first, though it did not
at once slay. He gasped for breath, his hand
dropfied away from the stock of his revolver, 
whit or it had instinctively and convulsiver
is): , and he opened his eyes just as Marion
moistened his lips.

“ I’m goin‘, miss." he said, with a faint mile.

“ Oh, do not say so. You are my only friend
—without you what shall I do here, all alone?” '

Something like a smile crept around the‘cor-
ners of his mouth, tensely drawn though it was
with pain.

“I can’t sta even fer an angel, ard,” he
whispered. “ ’m no good, so you nee u't want
to tie to me; but stick to the mine, now, every
time. There‘s millions in it. Promise me you
will.”

“ I will, I will!”

“ Get a good man to run it for you; pay him“
well an’ ive him a share, and little Charley’s
sister wil be a millionairess yet.” '

“ I" promise. But can nothing he done for
you -
“ othin‘. I'm going under with my boots
3n, like better men than Sacramento Sam has
one. .
“ But I swear you shall not die unaven 1"
She raised her shapely hand on big as if
go register an oath, but Sam gently stopped

er.

“Hush, hush! Maybe it was an accident—-
more like it was Faro Frank. He’s been layin'
fer me. Don’t get him on your trail; though
I’m afeared he‘ll give you trouble enough. I in
goin’ little one, good-by!”

“ ait, stay!
my brother—he told me all about you. What
can I do?” V I

“ If you would, little woman, just for a send-
ofl to the gates of glory, kiss me once—”

His voice that had been growing more choked
and fainter died away in the huskiest of whis-
pers, and he lay silent at her feet with his head
pillowed on her arm, and the eyes that were
so clear and handsome once, growing dull and

film .

Wyithout hesitation she drooped her head, a
great wave of urely amber hair curtained
Eire two faces, an she primed her lips once to

s.

“ Worth dyingfir. God bless! good-by I"

ills head fell k. No dauntless courage or
will of iron could help him now with that rat-
tle in his throat. Sacramento m‘s footwas
pressing his last trail—the trail that led infin-
iter and forever aw?! beyond hill and gulch
into the unknown wor that sooner or later all
must see.

A dozen men had been standing around. As
the last faint gasp came, Marion 3 burden was
quietly drawn away from her b several men
who worked in the mine and s earose to her. v

W .1

} .

a tin of water from some willing hand and ‘

Ink.

i

a... an“.

 

 
   

You were the true friend of ’ ' ' .

 
 
 
 

    

I

 
 

 

 
  

to turn: a stranger in a strange camp, and that

5 ‘ camp, of all others, High Pine.

  
 

ma , Asshe used around, more than one man
lick? W0u1d g Iyl’have stepped forward to olfer his
th- V aid; but t ere was an unaccustomed some-

 

.thing in her Virgina] beauty that held them
. back. Scarcer one man was there then, that

  
   

  

ms .
iot might seem worthy to speak to her words of
ad a ' counsel.

3;": ' One man, however, who had stood calm and
, , unmoved b the scene, now stepped forward
an . V with a col smile on his thin, treacherous lips.
1d , . His cruel gray eyes sought and held her lustrous

J, I blue ones as he spoke.

9_  ‘ “lilies, you’ve struck a rather hard town.
,d ‘ 'Thers some bad men here, I’m so to say, and

you’ll need a friend that's lively on the shoot it
,_ ' ,- mean to stay here twenty-four hours. I’m
,3 ' g hat man—excuse me if I talk right out but I
know the re 3 clear to both ends and talk from
the hook. ow can I help you?”
.Faro Frank was not a bad-looking fellow
Viewed by the High Pine standard' and he ha
a wonderfully easy manner. but hlarion Blake,
who had seen something of men and manners,
shrunk away from him, as from an adder. She
knew him by instinct.
“Thank you. my lady, I’m no saint, that’s a.
fact; 'but I’m the kind of a man you need now.
If Sam, that’s just cashed in, was your only
 stake in these diggin’s, you’re worse off than a
  cat, down below, Without claws. They planted
_. (I 'his pard today, and unless there’s a little squaw
é , somewhere's up a gulch, that firm is dead gone
’ broke. . The only wonder is, all the boys in
, town ain’t rushin’ down to put anotice up on
. f‘  their mine. I sent a side partner ten minutes
ago, andI reckon he’s at work on the spot by
this time.”

“ What mean you, sir?”

“ Just what I say. I’m jumpiu’ the claim—
though I calculate to sell out my interest to a
Rigger fish I’ve heard was on the road to take

“ But: Sir.” and Marion’s 9 es flash w'
sudden determination, “ the miIm is 111133. 
ery dollar, nearly, that I had, I gave my broth-
er to put into it, and I have registered a solemn
gromise to the one just dead to hold it to the

oath. I am but a weak girl; but I Will be strong.
I am alone in this camp; I will find friends. I
know nothing of your laws; but I will be wise.
Against threat or force I will hold that mine.
Against all comers I stand at bay; touch it if
you dare),
_ - _ She folded her arms, drew up her form with
. a regal air, and looked him firmly in the face.
’ Though it was beneath her to handv words with
the. gambler, yet she felt that here and at once
, she must strike her first hIOW, if she would keep
trust with hersalf and with the dead.

' “ Fine words—but they break no bones. I
would have been your friend if you had allowed
it; now—”

> " You, my friend! You! you murderer be
my friend? Hear me once more. Sooner or
later I will call you to account for the blood of

enta Sam, that you this day shed.” .

“ Your little hands," replied the gambler With
'& sneer. “ are hardly liker toundertake the con-
flm that there’s not a man in High Pine could

 

 

‘1,

    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 

     
      

  

 

  

carry. I’ll live lon if I wait till you bring as . ,-
life to an endin raid where is the man to tag ’
up your uarre l” >

“ He is ere!” and, as the clear tones rung out »
upon the air, a young man leaped lightly from .
his saddle to the ground, and with a graceful
bound stood before him.

It was Dandy Dai'ke, just in at H5 h Pine.

Like lightning the hands of Faro ank dove ~
into the side—pockets of his coat to graspr the
ready derringfrs that lay hidden there. hey
were self-coo
and, as it were in one time and motion, the
right hand turned the barrel in certain deadly
line at the breast of Dandy Darke an pulled
the trigger. '

 

CHAPTER X.
JUMPING ma GO'DOWN snar'r.

IN answer to the pressure of Faro Frank’s fln~
ger upon the trigger there was only the faint,
muflied noise of a jarring click. For once the
memory of the gambler had served him a slip-
pery trick. He had forgotten that the derrin-
ger in his right-hand pocket had just beendis—
charged.

On the instant he knew his mistake, but it
was too late to remedy it, for at that minute the
barrels of two revolvers looked him in the eyes,
while Darko was smiling along the lengths of
their shining steel.

“ Stir an inch and you’re dead! Up with your
hands now, and see that they come out emptyl
I’ve got the dead medicine on you, and I mean
to keep it till we can start on a square basis.”

Frank hesitated, but another glance at that
face, re olute, if smiling, decided him. For the
first time in High Pine some one had caught
the drop from him, and he recognized that he no
more wanted to meet certain death than any
other man. _

It was a terrific humiliation, though, Since
Marion Blake had found a champion’who at the
very outset had got the better of him, and he
swore to himself a red-hot oath that before they
left that spot Dandy Darke should bite the
earth. Then in a. voice desperately calm, he
answered: /

“ Up they come, and you neednlt worry about ’

this hand. If you hold the edge, I pass; and
fhe‘hest we can do is to hunch the cards, Jump
the game, and try a new deal the next time we
meet. ' 1 s’pose it’ll be shoot on sight.”

“I never wait if I can he] it. If there’s to
be a quarrel settle it here, With fists, pistols or '
knives. Take vour choice.” ‘

Faro Frank looked keenly at the young man.‘ - - K

He was not near his size; and could scarcely
be his equal in strength and endurance. As for
skill—with the gloves he had, in the East, held
his own in science with such men as the Lazarus
brothers, Barney Aaron, and S m Freeman, and
without them had beaten man a bad rough to
a. standstill. To cross arms in sticcontrovers’y, ’
with this youth, before Marion Blake, would bet ,
like balm to his wounded soul. In just three '
minutes he would beat him to death. Or if
death did not come at his mangling he could
shoot him afterward all the same; .

ing weapons, that never failed; , V

- /

   

 

‘ . , “Youngster. the pistol is the thing a gentle-

‘ man deals with: but if you want a round with

nature’s weanons hand your belt and jacket to

r . some one, and I promise you the settlement be
 tween '13 Will be effective.”

‘ .‘_‘ Agreed. If I should turn out as handy with

' my fists as my barkers. it’s not hard to say

‘ which way the settlement will squint.”

1 Darke somewhat carelessly lowered the muzzle
of his weapons, and at once, from the crowd,
that had been constantly augmenting, a voice

-- exclaimed:

“ Pull on him, Frank, I’ve got him lined.
Now’s er chance.”

“An I’ve got you lined, you sneakin’ kiote—
I, Geyser J on. Throw down thcm tools, or you’ll
.. hear the las’ trumpet toot inside or three sec-

onds. Down, I say.”

Sure enough, Geyser Joe, lolling carelessly in
his saddle, was nevertheless holding the man‘s

' i life under the surveillance of the muzzle of his
‘ sure-shooting revolver—and he meant every

word he said.

The name of Geyser Joe was not altogether
Unknown there—and Dandy Darke was no
stranger, as will appear. The man in the crowd
after a moment’s demur obeyed the stern order.

“Now,” said Burke, turning to Dai‘ke and
Faro Frank, “I kiver ye both—mebbe yo’ve
heard su’thin’ or my shootin’ an’ won’t try no
frolicsome games on ma—peel and wade in.”

Meantime Marion Blake had stepped a little
back, and watched the prowess of her champion

, with deli ht. For Faro Frank she had con-

' ceived a t orough hatred, mixed with loathing
' and fear, and delicate woman though she seemed

to be, she would have been willing to see that

dashing sport receive almost any amount of

' unishment. Her own peculiar position was,

or the time, forgotten. Her personal troubles

and dangers were lost in the thrilling excitement
of the moment.

V A touch on her shoulder recalled her to her-
self and she turned with outraged dignity upon
the person who had dared to insult her.

’ , To her surprise, and even deli ht, she looked

into the face of a handsome 'r , of about her
own a 9. It was Lalaree—or ud Burke—who
spoke in gentle tones, and with the pure accent

'. i of one who had received some education:

‘ “ Come away, miss. There is going to be
, trouble here and on can prevent it no anger,

though it would ave begun Ion ago but for
your presence. This is no place or you, since
proba 1y you would be one of the first to sto

a‘ bullet. Let us slip away and my friends wi 1
find us after it is over.”
“ But who are you and who are your

'friends?"

“ Yonder man, who now calls himself Geyser

~‘ Joe, is my father, and I suppose I may say that

the man who faces that desperado is a friend. I
'am Maud Burke, and as I too am a lonely girl in
5 this outlaws’ refuge I think we may be friends.”
' Marion needed no further urging. but suffered

herself to be drawn awa%nd their departure
was scarcely observed. on they had got a
little distance from the crowd Maud continued:

~ “I am a stranger here as we have but just

arrived at High Pine; hut I know much of

mines and miners. -I heard something of what

\

    
 

 

  

 

   
  
  

  

 

manna   . .. 

‘wea' one, it became a fort hard to take.

 

‘!

who seemed to be your only friend. Can

and at once.”

It did not take many words to put Maud in“

full possession of all that Miss Blake knew.

“And you believe that this mine is valuable,rflii

and you wish to hold it to the end?”

H Yes.”

“Then come quickly. There is not a nio-
ment to lose. We must find where the shaft is,
.imd ,take possession at once;if it be not too
ato.

“ What, we? Better to call upon your father.
I dare trust him as my agent if he will only
serve as such.”

“He cannot come——in an hour it might be
useless.”

“ Bait will you leave him in such a strait?”

Maud smiled sternly, and then there came a
look, fierce and deadly, into her midnight
e vs. <
“Such odds as he cannot meet my hand could
not protect him against. If he falls my lot will
be to avenge him. Come.”

The idea of Lalaree was simple enough. The:
driver of the canvas-covered wagon in which
Marion Blake had arrived, had allowed himself
to become interested in the affair at arms which
was transpiring, and his horses were still liar,-
ncssed to the vehicle. To secure a guide to the
go-down shaft was nota great difficulty. By
stage they would go.

Her plan worked so well that almost before
Marion comprehended it the two girls were
dashing down a rugged mountain trail in the
swaying conveyance, the driver swinging his
whip to earn promised pay, the Mexican guide
shouting, and Marion touching from time to
time the~revolver that she had unearthed from
between the seat-cushions, where she had had it
stowed during the journey, and which now she
had iust buckled around her waist.

“Here ou are!” shouted the John, as he
drew up is horses with a sudden check, caus-
ing his passengers to lurch suddenly forward.
But the iris quickly recovered their equilib-
rium, an sprung lightly from the stage.

They were just in time. _

Faro Frank's emissary was there, and he
came not alone,,but with three or four men, all
of them as hardened and reckless as their em-
ployer, only not quite so skillful with card and
pistol.

We have said that the two partners had \

taken the precaution to defend the go-down
shaft with a stockada. It was a rude affair,
and unless watched was of no great strength,
since an agile man could climb over it at al-
most any point; but it would serve the purpose
of a shelter very well, and garrisoned by a few
resolute men, who knew how to handle the:

u .
at the gateway two men were seated, amicably
engaged in a game of cards, for work had

stopped for the day, and had it not been for the, .

presentiment of Sacramento Sam these :1,
after the funeral would have been at High Pine
also. .But, as their pay went on, they were _
content to‘remain on guard. ’ g ,‘ ‘

 

that man said to you, and saw the body of  '

ou -
not repeat tome in few words. your storny If ‘
I am not mistaken there is somethingto bedone, ._"’

  

in _. .. 4....an

   

 

    
    

    
       
 

    
 

  

 
       
 

   
     
         
       
     
   
   
       
    
      
    

  

 

 

     
  

- «2.4
an hour when suddenly looking up as a shadow
fell across their hands, they saw before them,
' atvnot ten paces’ distance, four men with pistols
In their hands, the leader of whom, seeing that
' they were disoovered stopped a pace forward,
and as though at a signal of command each
man poised his weapon with thoughtful delib-
(oration.
,. I“ Waltz out ov thar; put ycr hands above yer
heads anl Waltz right out! I’m thcr sherifl’ 0v
'7 ; this hyar camp, actin’ under ther orders of thcr
ralca’de, legally constitooted, an’ I’ve come to
take possession of this hyar Go-dowu shaft in
' thcr name ov ther law. Be yer goin’ to buck
ag’in’ it, say? If yer is, thcr law ’11 chaw yer up
; gn’  out ther bones afore yer kin raise yer

  
  
 
 
   

No wonder the question was asked, since the
two men had dropped their on rds and sprung to
their feet, with clinched fists and threatening
looks. Very foolishly they had unloosed their
belts and deposited their arms on a log that was

s not for distant, but to reach which seemed to
mean certain (loath. They would scarcely risk
the leap to get them, and yet they were not the

4 men to quietlv give in.

v . “ You lie, Jack Bunker. You ain’t no sheriff,

- fur High Pine would hang sich a thing, of any-

bode was fool enough to tr to turn him out.

~ EV ry man is his own sheri , an’ you‘re nothin’

buta bloody claim—jumper. Ef the boss comes

back an’ finds (you cavortin’ ’round hyar thar’ll

be about four cad ducks. Nary ounce will 3 cu
ever bliste out of this shaft.”

'As he spoke Joe Beams was edging, inch by
inch, toward his weapons.

“‘ None of that, Joe. You know me. Cave.
er say the word. In ten seconds ye’r‘ both dead

, men. ‘

‘;Hold on, then, I cave. Come in if yer want

 

AndJoe Beams caught his comrade by the
arm and pulled him away from the log where
their arms were tantalizineg visible.

“ Now ye’r’ shoutin’," exclaimed the leader of
the four, and with a motion to his men stepped
florivard, the others following closely at his

ee 5.

But Beams’s submission was only a ruse to
throw the claim-jumpers oflt‘ their guard. Just
as they were passing within the gateway, Joe
and his comrade sprung forward like tigers, and
each struck out straight from the shoulder.

Before the blows the two men went down as if
they had been shot; and Beams now sprung to—
ward the weapons. Had it not been for an ac-
cident he would doubtless have gained them,
and with revolver in either band would perhaps
'have been a match for the startled claim—jump—

 

 

 
  
   
  
   
 
    
  
   
  
  
 

A ers.
' * Unfortunately his foot struck against one of!
the men on the ground, he stumbled. and fell,
and the two men left standing. leaping lightly
H over him, dashed through, and careless of their
comrades, seized the great gate of Eunchcons,
nd slamming it to, laid in place a. eavy bar.
Th’ 11 the looked calmly through a loop-hole
' . 4e fis fight that was going on. One of the
momma was Jack Bunker, and he had won
‘68 stocked ‘

e. 3

   
   
   
    
  

   
  

' osmium“ .

oilring disturbed their quiet game for half ‘

 

CHAPTER XI. ' ‘ - - '
MUSCLE AGAINST MUSCLE—“THE RED SPORT ,
' TAKES A BAND. _

GEYSER Jon, sitting with both moccasmed
feet dangling from the same side of his horse,
and with a revolver in each hand, was a referee .-
frcm whose decision but one class of appeal
could be made—that with lead and steel.

Nor was he the sole person in the crowd u n
whom Dandy Darke had to depend for air
play. There were others who, eitherqut of ad—

miration of him, or hate of Faro Frank and the , ,' I

men who trained with him, would-have Will—
ingly aided him in a pinch, and their voices en-
couraged the handsome young sport as he drew
off his coat and handed it and his hatto a man
who seemed willing to accept the charge. But
he stc ped back to Geyser Joe with his weapons,
and t at worthy whipped them under his leg in
an instant.

Then, with a cold smile on his face, the young
man sprung once more in front of Faro Frank,
this lime throwing. up his hands in a scientific
position, and the battle was jcined.

Each man was a picture of fine physical do- "

velopment, though neither was above medium
hight. \Vith swelling muscles. broad chests
and keen eyes for an instant they faced each
other, and instead of the prelude of hand-shak-
ing,r that usually begins a display of the manly
art, each one ran the other over with a glance
that took in the other’s points and sought for
any weakness in the other’s harness. Means
time, the crowd overlooking the blooming con-
dition of Dandy Darke, that gave promise of
staying power and capacity to endure, remem-
bered only the acknowledged science of the
gambler t lat they had more than once seen em-
ployed upon men that were giants in compari-
son with himself, and as he stripped the larger
man, they fL-lt, some with a shiver of regret,
others with a thrill of delight, that the chances
of Darke for victory, or even life, were slender.

“ Two to one on Faro Frank—any one a—takin’
ov me up to a hundred?" yelled one sympa-‘
thizer, and a big rough. in a red shirt, waved

his battered hat above his head to show where '

he lived. '

No one accepted the challenge however, and
at the moment there was a. whip—like crack, and
Dandy Darke sprung back to recover from a.
sharp. quick chopper that Faro Frank
thrown in like li htning.

.“Bu’st him. ankl” howled the man in the
red shirt. “Sail right in, ole lemon—squeezer,’ _
you’ve got himl Five to one on Faro Frank, on ‘
no takers. Hi—yi—yaahl” .

A perfect ring, some fifteen feet in diameter
had been formed by this time, at one side of
which on horseback sat Geyser Joe, the self- I ,
appomtcd referee, still grasping his revolvers, ‘
and a troubled look came into his eye at this "
first rebufl’. r .

But there was method in Dandy Darke. He
had accepted a slight punishment to gain an
end. Again he slid quietly into distance, and
again with a guard that seemed destined but
partially to protect his face. Again he made a
faint with his left hand, and once more Faro,
Frank’s return shot out, quick and vialous, and 4
without a. thought of failure to connect. * ' ‘v

x _ ,-

     
 

has"

   
  
  
    
 
 

 
    
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
    
    
  
  
   
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
    
   
   
  
 
 
   
    
 

'/

It was this self-confidence that Darke had
tried to give to the gambler.

‘With his left arm he caught the blow that
this time was given not only from the shoulder
' out, but with the weight of Faro Frank's body

ollowing it.

The skillful parry of the heavy blow half-
'wheeled the gambler around. just as Darke, in

perfect time, threw out his right fist and shoul-
' der in one crushing counter, tha‘, landing on

the cheekJ hurled Prank to the ground like a

nine-pin.

‘ Then Dandy Darke stepped back toward

Burke, and standing with his magnificent arms

folded over his broad chest, gazed at his an-
, tagonist with the same cold smile, never even
glancing at the crowd, from which arose more
than one cheer.

The blow was a stout one. A shade late for a
counter, a trifle early for a return, it had the
 power of the one and the precision of the other.
" 'And Dandy Darke could 'ustas well as not have
‘ sent the blow in a little igher up; but he di'l
; not want to end the struggle in a single round.
' . So, though'the stroke had cut his cheek open as

v  though with a knife, and shaken him greatly,

, Faro Frank was not knocked senseless, but al-
‘ , most immediately sprung to his feet, with wild
rage that was demoniacal, though he was silent
as. the tomb. His uncut cheek was actually
livid. his jaws worked together as though griml-
ing the flesh of a victim, and his eyes gleamcd
'v like twin coals of fire.
w , ‘He glared at Dandy Darke; but in no bewil-
‘. dared way, for he felt to the bottom of his soul
that he had met his equal in science and his
aster in strategy. How hard 8. hitter he was

a had just felt. This was a fight not to be Won
« in an instant, and he would have to call all his
‘ resources into play.

, “ Time l” shouted Geyser Joe, from his rch,

andas more than half a minute had caused
‘ since the blow had been struck, without hesi-
. taggion the pugilists stepped firmly toward each
0 er.
' This time Faro Frank held his guard well up,

/ his body bent forward, his attitude that of a
man who was going, on the first provocationI
to shift out of reach, to avoid punishment.
Though Darke tried him once or twice in a care-
’ less way his blows were neatly stepped; but the
returns in the same we fell short. As, at last,
a tremendous shot hit rom Darke, cams boom-
' ing out, Faro Frank ducked his head, and bound-
ed in, strikin with his elbow a severe blow in
' Dandy Darkes ribs, and the next moment had
’ him fairly across his hip.
A roar went up from the crowd. F'aro Frank
~ broke bones when he threw a cross buttock, and
not a soul there but thought the dandy young
4, sport was gone. If the gambler’s face could
have been fairly seen one would have known
that be thought so too, and under his mustache
, he muttered:

' “ Ah, curses on you! I have—”

He had every nerve braced for a supreme ef-
fort; threw every muscle into one wave of
strength as he s ke; but he snake too soon.

/ Up into the a r flew Dandy Darke~but not at
his bidding. At the instant that he applied the
wrench, Darke, whose knees had been well bent

  

 

 

' s    : ~ lanai-ssh;

 

’ i

   

under him, sprung with the strain, and fairly‘.’ ,
flung a somerset straight out from betWeen v
Faro Frank’s hands. lighting like a featheraim- r
mediatcly facing him, with hands well up for '

attack or defense.

But Faro Frank was, in ring parlance. all ‘

abroad, since again the strategic science of the
young sport had baffled him. As he glared
around, shakin his head like an enraged bull,
Darke ste ped mly in on his left foot, slinging

out shou der and fist, his body dropping in'

cadence with the stroke, and his hand catching
Frank upon the brow.
For the second time be hunted the ground—:-

for the second time Dandy Darke stepped quiet- I

1y back. There was a. little flush on his bronzed
check—that was all the change.
But there was a change in his antagoni’ t. He

was no longer the natty sport, smiling if sar- '
From cuts on cheek and brow the blood ' '

donic.
had spouted covering his face and dripping
u on his clothing. Though strong as ever on
his pins, his head was already swollen, so that
few at a glance could have recognized the man,

save‘for the eyes that, untouched, were glowgfi g ‘
.gh ‘

with a balefulllagllare, such as always 11
them when be sworn to slay.

“Curse your tricks!” he cried.
you yet. Stand up, if you be a man.”

Again they drew near, and as they approach.
ed, from a cautious shift Faro Frank suddenby
changed his advance to a headlong rush, and
dcspisin the one half-arm blow that landed on
his h . he dashed direct for Dandy Darke’s
throat. No need to tell his fell purpose. If
those iron fingers once got their gri they would
hang with bulldog tenacity thong they were
backed off one by one.

The two figures were locked together; they
writhed and turned and twisted. Then Darke s
grasp closed in like iron, and he tore the other
half down, drawing him over his left knee,
his left hand holding him stead , as it in a
vise, while his right hand rose igh in air to
strike.

“Crack l” ‘

A istol-shot from an unseen hand in the ‘ ;

crow , and the 'tions were reversed.

Down droppe Dandy Darke; and up, with an
oath, leaped Faro Frank. '

With one bound he snatched a knife from the
belt of the nearest one in the crowd. With an-
gghier bound he leaped upon the motionless

y.
From without the ring there was an oath and
a scramble.

The same bullet that had stricken dawn Darke
had gamed on, and touched lightly the animal
on w ich, with his whole soul centered with in-
tense eagerness on the fight Geyser Joe was sit-
ting. Just when, to back his comrade, he was
most needed, he was wanting. His horse gave
an impatient. angrv bound, and Burke and his

revolvers slid heavily to the ground. Just as he ' »«
thering himself up Faro Frank was, ’.
crouc ed upon Darke‘s body, with gleaming ‘ '

W85

knife upraiserl, snarling out like a savage tiger
striking its fangs at its victim‘s throat.
“ This for your heart!” I '
The crowd surged in nearer to the combatants

    

some in fiendish glee, atew in actual human'  ~ -«

 

“Iwill kill *

   
  

      
        
   
    

 

 

 

fly ’ Dandy Duke.
3en . . .v .
m- themdden, deadly reversal of fortune. But in High Pine’s a hot 010 hole, an’ afore he knows
for  that number there seemed no one man will- it he’ll be roastin’."

‘ mg to interfere. They lived in High I’inc. So, at length. spoke the man in the red shirt
811 ‘Wa—hoop! hoop. hoopla!” and two or three men joined him in picking up
he With a yell one man acted—and he from the the defeated man, and bearing him awa .
ed very outSIde of the crowd, where he had been And scarcely had the hum of a undred
.11, struggling to get in. voices begun to arise when there dashed up a
ryg He hesitated no longer. Placing his hands hatlcss man on a horse which had evidently
ln’ upon the shoulders of two men he forced them been hastily cut from some kind of a vehicle.
12 Violentlly apart, and then raising his knees It was Joe Beams, foreman of the workmen of

he sudx only slung himself violently into the air, Go—down shaft, mounted on one of the stage

— feet foremost, and went sailing over the heads horses.
! f of the ranks in front of him. Lightly he struck “ Hello thar," he shouted. ” Thor’s work fur
Ii the ground, and then, with the wild cry, he wages. ’Whar‘s Sam? Some condemned ga-
, rung once more, a ain with feet foremost, loots hes jumped our shaft.”
.9 , ng full 1: inst aro Frank, whose knife “What shaft is that!” called out Joe, with-
r- ~ was just tremh mg on the fall. out thinking of any possible interest he could
I! The crash hurled the gambler a dozen feet, have in the affair.
g with the breath completely knocked out of his “ The Godown Shaft—Sacramento Sam's.
a body, while the strange and unexpected nppari- They fired us out, an' I've come fur help. That
t tion, whipped deftly out of his belt a brace of Jack Bunker heads 'em. the reckless devil, an’
, shining revolvers. With both hands cxtondtxl, he’ll murder the two women that jist kim thar!” '
i and his coal-black eycs glaring fiercely around, “ Hear that, pard! Into the saddle with yer.
i he stood over Dandy Darkc, cxclaiming: Sam ain‘t round, but lead ther way, an’ we‘ll

“Me big In‘un sport: mo. white man’s friend,
fur rocks. ho call hand on Scarlet Bear?
Waugh!”

At any other time a roar of laughter would
have gone u ; but the situation was too serious

ust then. 6 red—shined man who had offered

.n to two on Faro Frank was stealthin edging
, his way into the crowd; but at once, on im,
o one of the revolvers turned.

“Go slow, red-shirt, bad man! Me holdy
drag, an’ shoot like dcbbil, much. You hear
me

,—

The man in the red shirt paused to contem-
plate, With his hands held out in a ridiculous
way, to show that they were guiltleSs of wea-

n. At the same time with a asp, Dandy
a £51m egrewitgxp his limbs, 11le t on, dazedlyé

_ m a, g posture. ru in the to 0
his head with his hand, which he ttien 1001:th at
in a confused sort of way.

“ , by heavens!” he muttered. “ Right
in a minute !"

True it was that the bullet hall plowed mar-
velously near to a fatal track. But luck, if we

. dare call such things luck, was in our hero's
. .I favor, and the result was only a brief uncon-
" sciousness.

, ' He staggered to his feet, and glared around
 with rapid y clearing eyes.

“ Hyer's yer tools, pard; catch ’em!” shouted
Goyser Joe, who had been forgotten from the

I time he fell.

As he spoke be tossed his revolvers to Dandy

gig-the, w o caught them with marvelous dex-
y.

Now then. hyer’s three chiefs holdin’ this
camp. The first man that draws drops Who
calls ther turn?”

Back to back braced the three men, defiance
bristling in every hair and for a few seconds a

deathlike silence hung in the air.

 " Hold it! Nobody says you sha‘n't. Best
=- thing we‘kin do is to wipe up Frank. When he
, , to mebhe there’ll bea new deal. Afore
I .‘thooflmoyoukin be forty thousand chiefs. of

‘ m? want to: but that red ni z'er that kicked

flaw that.) bed better waltz nghtouter town.

\ i. I ’4

  

  

   

 

 

back ’em to ther last gasp. Back yer go! You
h’ar me shout?”

Joe Beams said nothing, but wheeled his
horse, and toward the Go-down Shaft three

horsemen recklessly galloped while the Indian,

sport, with a hand now touc ing one, again the
other, kept in the line, side by side.

And in their rear more or less tailed off,
came half the population of High Pine, anx-
ious to see the fun.

CHAPTER XII. ‘

CHARLEY BLAKE’S SISTER TAKES POSSESSION.

WHEN Joe Beams saw that-the capture of the
mine had been accomplished, be fairly howled

with ra 8.

But t ere was no hel for it. Two of the
jumpers were within. e had struggled away
from his man a shade too late to even attempt
to defeat the maneuver, and those that had
been knocked down were alread up and hand-
ling their weapons. If he only ad the toolsso
tantalizineg resting upon the log, he would
have held them a fight yet, for Joe earns, when

excited, was one whom no two men could make a

take water.

The Weapons were there; and he was here.
No standing helpless, to be picked off, for him.
Sam must know. ‘

For the first time he saw the stage, drawn up ‘

at some little distance. The girls had sprung
out, and the men had followed them to see what
was in the wind. To take out a horse was the
unthinkin work of a minute, and off he went
like the Wind toward High Pine.

Marion Blake was no coward. as the reader ,.
and at the

can ve well jud , since all alone
cost ofryalmost hefiast available dollar, she had
made the journey to High Pine on learning by
lucky chance, that her brother had been an-

gerously wounded. She lacked experience of I _

contact with the ruder elements of humanity,
though all her life she and Charley had experi-

enced the buffeting that always falls to thelot‘of' ,
orphan children, however fortunate they may ' ,
over-

be, With one to lead she had a danntleal

» t

 

 

 

  
   
 
   
     
       
   
   
       
            
     

Dafndy Dan-kc.

 

age that could be relied on, as Maud Burke more .

‘thanguessed.
Nor was she disappointed. With a glance she
teak in the scene, and then flew forward, calling
' «upon Marion to follow her.
' At the gate stood Jack Bunker peeping
-~Vthrough at the men without; and he saw Joe
'Beams fiellop away with a. curse, for he knew
: that he ad gone to make an effort to raise the
x camp.
As certain as man could be of what was to
A . happen, that Sacramento Sam was drad, there
was a bare prospect that it might be Faro

V . Frank that would be taken in. and in that con-

' tingency things would soon be very sultry for
himself. All the same he had named his lI‘lCO
and was wilhnc- to stand by his bargain. f he
did not, Faro , rank would be after him. After

" : watching the flight of Beams his intention was

1“

to’admit his other two allies, and so, for a
' , wonder he did not see the rushing forms of the
two crirls, that had already passed out of line
whenbhe first ot a. glimpse of the canvas—cov-
ered Wagon. he sight of the driver and Mexi-
can was unpleasant enough, though they stood
far ofi.
While the man by his side menaced the part-

. ' Iner of Beams with leveled pistol. Bunker cau-

.. tiously raised the bar and opened the gate.
“ Come in, quick, boys, we must barricade
‘ here. Frank will be down a—hoopin’, though, ez
soon on he gits his share of ther job wiped up."
“We shoot it you look up. Down with your
pistols, and open that gate! The first man that
raises his eyes will die.”
The ringing tones of Lalaree fell upon Joe
" Banker’s ears with startling clearness~and at
the same time he heard the cecking of pistols,
and knew that on the Stockade above him some
, one was perched, with weapons at hand to en-
. force the mandate. If he was only looking that
way it would be so easy to pick him, or her, off.
But he was not looking up, so the advantage was
on the other side.
‘ “ Hold on!” he said. “, Don’t ye go fur to come
sich games. I ain’t n—lookin’; but you can’t
shoot me an’ my pards outside both, an' fu’st
thin yer know you’ll drop.”
‘ “ he first man outside that raises a. head gets
a bullet. Come on, Tom, and you, stranger.
‘ Relieve these villains of their weapons, while we
hold them in check.”
._ It was Marion that this time spoke, and very
, brave and clear sounded her voice. No one

> ,would suspect that inwardly she was quaking

With four, though she was not afraid of fire-
arms, being a. more than fair shot, considering
‘the‘amouut of ractice that she had had.
‘ ’ Well was it t at she had at least the courage
o’speak, since it was the second voice that saved

(la . .

"‘Hoyl mitherl” exclaimed one of the out-

siders, ticking the head that he had begun to
BC

‘Sure. an’ there’s two ov thim, an” both 0v
"them leddies. Arrah now he aisy, me darlints,
not fur ther loikes 0v you to blow of! the
Mpzov' Mike Flinnigan's head. Put down the
rigidly weapon an"'let’s mison togither. Sure
Mk shtick oi’d sooner have. in me {lsht than a
‘ , ,

iljdimy-which 3 don’t? like at all, my 9117? ,

 

“ Hold yer tongue. yer blatherin loan,” thou
ed back Bunker. “ I’m running this ranch."

“And you’ll run out of it in a minute more:
or go out on a pair of pick-handles,” sternly in- '
tel-Posed Maud. 

‘ But whobe ye? What right have you to
interfere?”

“I am Marion Blake, the sister of Charle
Blake, and his only heir. Sacramento Sam is 7
dead, too, and bequeathed his share to me. I'
shall work this mine hereafter; let who will in
to hinder. I take possession now~—-leave at
once.”

Again Marion’s voice was heard; and after
she ceased speaking there was a brief lull and
silence, broken only by the sound of approach-
in'r horses at no great distance. I
a Curse; on it, if that be Faro Frank, and he »'
finds us corraled by a woman, what will he
say?” .

It was not Faro Frank.

The interlopers approacth from a direction’ <
quite contrary to that of High Pine, and at "
their head alloped Murray Brent and his first '
henchman, ilatt of the Mimbres. They halted» ’
not until they reached the Stockade, and then 1
looked with some surprise at the scene—two .
girls at bay, holdingr a group of brawny men in
check. Maud Burke was even threatening:

“ These men coming are friends, but it makes ,
no difference. At the first hostile movement of "
yours we fire.”

“ What is this, what is this?” queried Brant, in
his oiliest‘of tones. ‘

“Both bowers an’ the ace in our hands, an’ J‘
enohered at last! Ain’t that square enough?
This hyar claim hain’t a. legittymate owner, an’
me an’ the boys set out to jump her, fer they
say ther’s a power of the ore to be had for the
tn. {in’ outer Go—down shaft. We jumped it, fair
an’ squar’ un’ then su’thin’ that talks, like two
painters in apettycont,%‘1fmped us. Thet’s it,
eggszaetly. Thet’s biz. 6 jump out. ‘Tain’t
my fun’ral any more, so settle with ther under-
taker nmong ye—boys, git up an’ git.”

“Yes, get up and get. It is the best thing
you can do. Of course we Would have to see
that these brave young ladies came to no harm;
and they might, even in their awkwardness. do
you serious harm. Have no fears, to deer.
young lady. We will protect you to the ast.”

“So‘s a mule’s hind legs awk’ard—to fool
about. I reckon she’s ez handy with ther trig-
ger ez ther tongue. I’d sooner back a out he
in Faro Frank’s brace game than hev her pu
on me. So long! We’re a—goin’.” -

And they went. As the discomfited hero
passed grumbling through the gate Lal‘aree
eaped lightly down within the Stockade, fol-
IOWed by Marion, and calling in the two men,
5110 hastily closed the barrier. '

“ Now then, talk if she exclaimed, “butrMiss
Blake, beware of him. He and I have met be-:
fore.
one that was dear to me—and had I not made a .V
pledge to the dying, I could slay him where he.
stands.”

“ Why, you little ' )
mean! Miss Blake, i that be your name, ,
girl is no fit companion-for you; I know fin).
have not a thermal; sweetener with have:

There is blood on his hands—the blood of '

r .

itflre’ Injun, what deizveu.  3

 

handy 15...]...

 

“5 iS‘onJy a. night or two ago that she stole Away

out of our camp in company with a desperado

I of the worst stamp, a known shooter and a
suspected sluice-thief, and even outlaw and
road-agent.”

“Sir!” exclaimed Marion, indignantly, “she

.. befriended me when I needed a friend, and

“I refuse to listen to your insinuations.”

“ But listen. my dear young lady."

“ I am listening, sir.” ‘

For once Murray Brant was in doubt what to
say. This sudden meeting had made a confu-
sion in his plans. The fact was that he knew a
great deal about Gro-down shaft, and something
about the young lady who claimed It. The
‘ thing that most surprised him u as, that Marion

god not recognized him at once, as Lalaree had
, one.

“ Do not be prejudiced by anything that; this
unworthy companion of yours may say. In
the first place, she is a half-lured Indian with a

I smattering of education. Such people are al-

anys devils. In the next. believe me that I
Will be your friend—and if ever there was a
poor child in need of a friend it is you, in the
midst of the devils of High l’ino.”

“ I do. Indeed I do 1"

The cry burst from the depths of the heart of
lovely Marion, and for the moment she felt
drawn toward the smooth—speaking Brant.

“I come backed by a few good men, fully
able  cope with any foes you may have. and
intending to interest myself in the mining
affairs of this camp. Lot yourself be guided
by me, and I assure you that your person and
rlghts shall be protected if I have to die in your
defense.”

_ “Hyar too, little woman, hyar tool” inter-
. Jeeted Mimbres Matt.

‘ “Curse you hush!” said Brant in a low tone.

‘ Fall back. 'I want to carry on this interview
salone.”

Then again, in a louder key:

_.“ Unbar your gate, my dear young lady. We
willrcamp here to-night, so as to be near you
for your defense, and in the morning will see
what is to be done to put our mind at ease.”

' His wheedling voice an appearance so com-
pletely respectable as compared with the men
she had seen at High Pine, Won upon Marion.
Her hand was already on the bar, when again
Lalaree stepped between.

“Hold! know you, Murray Brant, on
have gold by the pound——l)ut you are 8. ad

‘ man; your touch poison, your friendship dis-
grace. What would you do, Marion? I will
51a him, but he shall not enter here.”

_ tartled by the passionate outburst of her
fnend, Marion leaned against the heavy door,
and gave through a loophole, a long and earn—
est look.

Then she started back, white and trembling.

Again from without the voice of Brant:

“ hrust her aside. She will drag you to

“ ruin. Whydo you hesitate?”

1, As he
. shoulder.
 _.‘ Marionvhesitated no more. . . r
" “No!” she, cried, in a tone of ringing de-
. ,“Where, were my eyes? 1 too know
 ' not, dare not enter here,

'

spoke he looked anxiously over his

 

Away, sir! Stand aside, or take the conse-
quences.” .
“ Curses on in luck that made me persecute
her. 1 have 0 ended her mortally. Nothing
but force will ever win her now. Ho, there,
Matti bring up your men.” .

As the men came forward at his call, and
Malcolm Dane placed himself by his side, he ad-
dressed Marion once more; but now his suavxty
was all gone.

“I have offered (you your own terms, sug-
gested that I woul accept any compromise.
Now I appeal to brute force to sustain the ma-
jesty of the law. We own this mine. It is ,
situate on a. tract that is included in an old
Mexican land grant, the title of which has
come to us. Once and for all I demand your 3
surrender.” V .

“And I declare that you shall not enter ‘
while we live. Your grant isa fraud. I am
the owner, and will protect my rights to the
death!”

“Then we will move upon the works!” said
Brant, grimly, and with pistol in hand he led
his men toward the stockade.

This was no holiday parade, either. The men

in the party were picked fighters, and they  ~

came to fight.

But as they gathered for a rush, three new-
comers burst upon the scene.

“ Stand there! Another step and we fire!” ‘

Looking hastily around, Murray Brant saw ,
that they had now to deal with men.

Geyser Joe, Dandy Darke, Joe Beams and the
Indian sport covered their party with cocked
revolvers in either hand.

CHAPTER XIII.
HIGH PINE‘ PASSES.

ALTHOUGH Murray Brant and his men out-
numbered the others, they were by no means
slow to give heed to the warning: for there was
a resolute air about the four t at said experi-
ence and business. While Matt ann his men
hesitated, Dandy Darke and the other thr'ee.'
sprung to the gate, which opened to receive.
them. .,

The garrison was reinforced, and nowitwould
be stout hearts and hands that could‘wrest the
Go-dowu shaft from its brave little mistress. '

None too soon was the entry made; for High
Pine was close at hand. P

At least some score of men swaggered up to ,
Brunt, and greeted him With stares or surly
questions. I I T

“ What’s the racket? Who’s been: rubbed out
down yere? Why don’t you sail in If it ain‘t all
chin—music? A man about High Pine means
biz.”

In answer to such expressions as these, both
Brant and Malfcolm Dane told their stories in a '

arded sort 0 way. ’
guDane Went astep further. He asked for aid, .
and as he talked some men listened. He was
trying to organize an attack upon the mine,
then and there. One repulsive-looking man
who seemed to be of note. was more inter
than the rest—but interrupted final] : ,

“That’s all talkee-talkee, chin-chin. Brace
up an' tell us the size pt the pile you’ll  

 

  
      
     
   

fur the work. Got a thousand to spare fur the
crowd's Then We’d shout.”

“I can pay—when the work is done; but it’s
every man’s duty to help the right. Why, I tell
, you, there's a doubladyed murderer there that

should be seized. He threatened my own life,
I and shot down one of my men beside me.”

‘ , “ Wal—-Icill him!”
‘ “ But I don’t want to kill him. I want him
, ‘talit‘en and handed over to the law."

he man laughed scornfull .

“ The law! The law! ur’s the law of
High Pine." He drew a broa ~bladcd knife as
he spoke. “Ef you don’t shoot or man on
Sight, (l’ye think we’ll chip in? r ain’t a.
, man hyar that ain’t killed a dozen. Thankee
' fur playin‘ us fur flats; but ef you ain’t goin‘ to
Show no fun we’ll go back to High Pine. We
3 , don’t rustle around that crowd in thar fur
nothin’.”

v x A couple more men had been carefully ad-
mitted by Joe Beams, and the little garrison
were ready for either siege or instant fight so
discretion was really the better part of valor,
as even Murray Brant decided. He was not
certain yet of his surroundings, and as the
 . latest comer was looked upon as an interloper,
who, without Mim‘orcs Matt and his sturdy fol-
lowers, would be in some danger at the best.
_ Accordingly he deferred the attack, and draw-

‘ing aside. after a short conference, took up his
' line of march for High Pine, with the returning
denizens.

Within the stockade little had yet been said,
for the girls stool a little a art, while the men
were ranged around for the et'ense of the walls,
. , and it was only when the last loiterer had dis-
” appeared that there was a chance for any ex-
change of words.

The Indian sport from time to time had looked
- sharply at Lalaree, or Maurl, as Geyser Joe al«
, most always called her. He was a. queer-look-
' ing object. Though a glance at his pronounce/l

features showed him to be a full-blooded Indian,

he was clad in the garments of a White man,
i and for the section of country rather fashionable

“garments at that, or they had been once upon

a time. His coat and pants were of heavy black

beaver cloth, and on his head, cocked upon one

side, was a still! plug hat, in the crown of which
was crushed a deep dint. He was guiltless of
' ' ‘ a vest, but his broad breast was covered with a
.gayly flowered calico shirt, now sadly in need
of a aun'lress; and around his waist there was
* a broad belt with a large, shininrr buckle, in
which. he carried a brace of revoIvers ani a
., knife. Over his temples his hair was plastered
in long soap—locks, thus relieving theI face which
” was otherwise destitute of hair. No young man
‘r was he; but age sits lightly on an ndian un-
broken by flre—water or disease, and it was hard
to say at a glance whether he was thirty, or
 twice that age.
‘_ Lalaree seemed a puzzle to him. Her dress,
5 each and manners ware white, her straight,
lthe figure, and the dark beauty of her face,
[showed a. dash of aboriginal blood. 0 was
she! Was Geyser Joe her father? He seemed to
' i ,be, from ,the glances that passed between the
m R t nod , V, .- , ,

«

WW: 

 
   
   
    
     

    
    
 
 
  

  

   
    
  
   
    

    
  

     
     
  
 
 
  

  

       
  
 

  
   
    
    
  

  
     
      
 
 
   
  
   

 

      

   
    

Dandy Dal-kc. ‘ l

  

 

, after what has happened

  

When the last of the High Pines had  -
Marion went straight to Dandy Darke, a ‘

  

ex
tended her hand. .

“ How can I thank you—a perfect stranger
for our gallant elforts in my behalf?" ‘ ‘

“ on are not a perfect stranger," he answer -
ed bluntly. “ I ave seen you a score of times a. -
a distance—once, nearer, though I was but 24‘
bogr then.”

I  i”

She looked at him again. ' '

“Whatl You? Yes, I am not mistaken. I,
was your arm that was around me that dread
in] night when the Golden Day foundered. Why
did you never come to me again, after you had
seen me in safety? Did you for et me so soon,
or is your life so full of nobled s that you on =
not to see again those you have succored?” ,

“ Lady, I could never forget you, and I won] r am-
have seen you again had it been for the best. cm,
But my life has been a fateful one, swung 1'
hither and thither as the wind of destiny blew. em
In youth deeply wronged, then dwelling for a. Shg
time among savages then tried in the refini . t1“
fires of a cruel world, I have roamed far, for ” .ed
have a mission to perform, which now seems ’ ‘(
near its end. I know, I believe, the exact work: 111,,
that I have to do, and had not something held ' mi
my hand the end would now be almost in sight. "sh.
It I have aided you I am glad. You can count I ru
on me to the last drop in my veins. If I was
less of a desperate man your safety would be.
less assured! Forget my past it you can, and v
onlylook upon me as one devoted to your ser
vice.

She held his hand while he spoke with a glad, 3,
confident look upon her face. The youn man
who had twice saved her, once from deat and ,,
once from insult might bepardoned for a mul- ', _
titude of sins. éhe murmured her thanks, and i I
for a little while they conversed in an under— 7
tone. Then he turned toward the Indian, who
stood apart, with arms folded, apparently taking 
no interest in his surroundin .

“ Yonder is Red Bear. an old, tried triend of"
mine. I must speak with him, and then we will ~
consult with you about what you had best do, ‘
for I take it you intend, though the risk is fear— ‘r
ful, to hold on to this mine. The man Burke-- ',
or Geyser Joe, is an old miner, and will be just 3'
the man to aid you.” 

Then he passed over and extended his hand r
to the Indian—who greeted him with a pleased, '
“Howl"—while Marion turned to seek Geyser

  
   
   

  
    
  

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A

Joe.

A wonderful stock of modesty seemed that ',
man to have. He held down his head like a ‘
shame-faced school-boy, and extended his hand ,-
as though it was to receive a beatin ,answering “ ’ ~,
Marion in a thick, mumbling sort 0 voice. ‘

“Thankee, miss; Maud an’ me is about es -
squar’ as you find ’em, an‘ I see she’d be good
company hvar fur ye, so I don’t say I- won’t
drop into yer plan; but I’d sooner scout ’round 3
a day er so till ver see if this yere Joe Beams j
can’t fill yer bill. I’m goin’u to High Pine,
tu‘st thing to look arter Sam’s ody. He orter
be buried right hyer, au' of you’s not objecflh’, ‘
we’ll bring ther corpse along down.” ‘,

“ True. true. But will

 

  
   
  

  
 
  

you risk yourseli' them

   

V

‘ assay is Ilse. 

v.4”,

 

23.2 rated his e ebrows and shoulders in a
'l‘qirecat ng sort 0 way.

» “I’m allers on ther risk. An’ to serve you

r’ I’d polka right inter a den 0’ mount’iu lions,

’ with noth' but a willer switch. I’ll be a

r chief in High Pine, er I’ll be a funeral rocesh,

' corpse, gOSpel-sharp and mournersall ro led into

no. r

“ But your daughter—would you leave her?”
L“She’s a good leetle girl, miss not 0’ my
:ind, but the good Lord ‘11 take eer ov her
when I glgrunder an’ thar’s somethin' in the

I hank ,at isco. l love her, in course, but
suthin’ drives me on an’ I can't sto . Watch
after her,au’ you‘ll find her true. must be
goin’.”

‘ The rest of the men had looked after the
stage and horses, and Geyser Joe, adjusting his

I belt, stepped out from the stockade and on foot,

. and alone strode up the hillside toward the
camp.

In regard to the body of Sacramento Sam he
was good as'his word, for it was brought to the
shaft that night; but for himself—die came not,
though. more than one within the stockade look-
ed anxmusly [or his return.

‘ On the. morrow, work once more began. A

little cabin was erected near the quarters of the
miners for the two girls and the Go down

shaft resumed the activity that had been inter-
rupted.

CHAPTER XIV.
A MINUTE MORE OF LIFE.

_ FOR nearly a week did affairs run smoothly
I in and about the _Go—down shaft, and Mr. Darke,
,, as the young ladies called him, had made sev—
. .S‘ral incisirsmns into tlée lair at High Pine, ul-
ays re uming in sa at and ivm no si
that he had met with lily notegwort‘lziy advegi-il}
tug-es. He was the actual head of affairs at the
mine, youn though he was, for of Geyser Joe
nothing h been seen, and in his judgment
Marion was learning to rely with a sublime con-
fidence, and to think her future fortune was
secure. Of course she did not intend to tarry
,, there forever: but she had no idea of leavin
runtil she was definitely fixed in her title, or h
I been ejected. This latter contingency she failed
 to consider very closely. Brant and his artner
had as yet made no show, and thong they
.Spmetimes entered her thoughts, the girl-miner
andliopes that they had been frightened away,
:2 i an impression that Darke did not attempt to
, disturb.
, But Dandy Darke knew, all the same, that
. -‘r;he big fish was only lying silent in the pool un-
' a tile favorable time for a rush: and though he
, . said nothing he was keeping his eye upon him.
I Brent would probably have heard from him be-
fore this had it not been that he was now anx—
- ions not to give any excuse to raise the camp _on
_rion. Whose cause had become his 0WD, 3131*“
W ofits interference with his plans.
. . i'r‘riHe expected trouble with Faro Frank, ‘90?
. W' Iormnately several of that WOTtPY’S ribs
‘ were broken; and as he had implored his friends
_ $05ng the oun sport for him, Darke remained
‘ ’ moved through the camp at

 

fl! 5

 

Will. théllgh he Watched every man there like a_'
hawk. There was one, at least, who he knew
was only hiding his time, and that man he him»
self was hunting down. It was Natan Argado,
the brother of the slain Felipe.

Probably there were a score of High Piners in
the “Star” one evening, when the young man
came in. As he passed through the door a man
going out slyly whispered: “Look out, stranger,
they’re layin’ fur ye.”

“ Thank you, my friend,” thought be, but said
nothing, and strode on in and threw himself upon
a rude seat made of a rough puncheon. I

For a time he was utterly neglected There
was no one in the room that he knew, and he
kept on waiting, for he had an idea that sooner
or later he should see some one. 7

Sure enough he was not mistaken, for soon in
came Brant, Dane and one or two others.

By this time Brant had ingi'atiated himself ’
pretty well, Without bleeding much he made
promises to he] to develop their resources and
start a rush. Vhon they began to understand
that he was Murray Brant, the well-known
speculator, who had, withouta doubt, the power
to do what he said, and that he had a body—
guard who would allow of no foolishness, they
were more than willing to tie to him.

At sight of Dane, the young sport started, as ‘
thou rh about to rise, but contro
an e ort, and watched the party as they ran ed
in front of the roufrh bur. Before very long is

resence was noted, and Brant catching his eye,
geckoned with his finger.

Without a moment’s hesitation he arose and ‘
approached. ' r

‘ Well, young man, from what I hear you‘re
a brave one, and if I could atch up the quarrel
between you and one of my cxicans I wouldn’t
mind finding a place for you.”

“I’ve place enough at the end of my own
paddle; and when that paddle dro s it Wlll-be ,
apt to hit some of your crowd. ’ve nothing ,
with you yet as I know of, so you’d better not
trouble, yourself about the size of my hand."

“Come, come. .
good one; but you’re backing the wrong Side; ,
She had better give in peaceably. in ten days
there will be a battalion of United States
cavalry here, and I will be placed inpossessmn
of the property which is undoubtedlfiours.‘ I
don’t want to let loose these tigers of igh Pine
or I would have been in before now. Take ad-
vice, oung man, and tie to me.”

“’1‘ nkee for nothing. If these soldiers are
coming so fast you don’t want me; audit they
don’t come Miss Blake might want me In case
those animiles did 9 ape. No, sir, I’ve no love
for you; and there’s a man Wllh you I hate.

(’ve told him soand I don’t know what prevents
my shooting him on sight.”

“ What is there between him and you?” asked

Brant, coolly eyi'ng Dane as he spoke, who, ‘

was white from the roots of the hair on his I
forehead to Where his neck was lost under his
clothing.

“ Ask him. He knows and can answer, unless, ,
hit coward heart refuses to s ak.” , I
“Who are you? Why is it that Dane fears.
you as I never knew him to fear mortal man!”

“He fears me becausa I am a fated aven'gér

My." ‘

 

led himself by ‘ '

You stick to the girl like a.‘  '

“as,

nannyj Duke.

 

If he will draw now and here he shall have his
chance; but I have the bullet readyrun that
one day will take his life!”

“ You crow too loud—I want you to listen to

‘reason. This thing must be settled now; but
not in the way you speak of. Both of us cannot
v remain here and as I want to stay you must
emigrate. Either swear that this quarrel is to
end and you will cease to interfere in my affairs,
or leave this camp, or die. You have your
choice. Answer, quick.”
V “ None of the three. You nor your ang can
drive me. You're a fool to talk to me ikc that
without a pistol in your hand, cocked and
ready."

As he spoke Dand Darke leaned carelessly
a ainst the corner 0 the bar, with a smile On
his face, but his hands were ready to grip his
read revolvers.

“ ’1] tell you What kind of a man I am,” an-
swered Brant, in a cool concentrated tone, and
pulling out his watch. “I’ll give you just one
minute to leave this ranch and three to get out
of camp. If you’re not gone when I close this
watch at the end of the minute you’re a corpse.
I sba’n’t speak a m. The time begins.”

An intense si ence pervaded the room. The
High Piners grouped together just a little out of
ran e with Brant.

ot a sound was heard but the sup ressed
breathing of the men, and the tick, ick of
' Brent’s watch.

The excitement was intense.

W hat was about to happen?

Twenty, thirty, forty, fty seconds flew by.

Murray Brant calmly eyed his watch, Mal-
colm Dane stood back white and tremblin .

’ Something or other still kept his tongue tir .
Yet there was much of horror on his face.

Dandy Darke had his arms folded in appare‘ht
carelessness, but his fingers were ready, and he
knew that he could draw and fire before any
man there.

Fifty-five seconds gone. Murray Brant made
a motion as if to close his watch—and at that in-
stant Dandy Darke suddenly pulled a pistol, and,
apparently without taking aim, fired directly
over his shoulder. Then, without looking after
his shot—for he never failed—he wheel half-
wa round and confronted Brant and his crowd,
wit a weapon in either hand.

And from the direction of his shot there came
a shadowy sort of cry, a gasp, and the noise of a

“'kHe is a devil!” gasped Brant, staggering

c .
_Yet, in a certain sense, it was only luck. Be-
hind the bar, against the rough wall, there was
' tacked a sort of looking-glass. A thousand
times it might all have passed without notice—
yet Dandy Darke felt a sudden impulse to see
what was behind him, though he knew no one
, - was in that part of the room. He gave a quick
I glance at the glass—and saw at a window the
owering face of Natan, the Mexican, look-
in along a carbine, leveled at him. When the
m ute was up he would fire. I
Then Dandy Darke pulled a pistol, and tak-
ing his” aim from the glass. a snap shot
-' gar his shoulder thatbrought the Mexican
W13. ‘ - ' ‘

 

‘t‘ltl’owl” he cried, facing his foes. “Draw, or
ge l . A. ‘
They knew there was no foolishness about”.
him; and that a movement toward weapons:
might mean certain death for at least two of
the number. ,

“ I’m going, young man, but the next chance
will be mine. Look out for yourself. Before
the week ends you will be a dead man.”

With his men at his heels he turned and
went out, followed by Malcolm Dane, who was
still shivering and silent. 1

CHAPTER XV.
THE MYSTERY or THE MASSACRE mmn.

BRANT and his party were camped at the edge -  I}

of Hi h Pine in fairly comfortable quarters.
Two uts were there. one of which was
occupied by Mimbres Matt and the men; the

other exclusively by Murray Brant and Mal- ,>

cohn Dane. ‘
On coming out from the den, Brant had turn-

\ :

ed to Matt of the Mimbres, who was somewhat  __

bewildered at the way things were going. v

“You had better gather up the fragments,
and put him in a hole somewhere, and then go
on up to Cal’s and see if that Faro Frankhas
kceled over again. He. was to have been down
here to-night, and if he had kept his word. we
would hardly have been bcaten out 50. Come
to the tent in an hour, and I’ll give you orders
for the night.”

With this, Brant and Dane strode silently
toward their quarters, and soon were alone to- -
gether.

“Curses on the (ling old placel it’s wortha 

fortune tospend a wee in suchahole. If'it-
wasn’t for the girl, I’d burn you and your Mex--
ican land-grant, and get back to some place >
where a white man can live.”

He lit a lantern, set it with a thump on the
floor, after lighting a pipe at its flame, and
threw himself down upon the blankets in one
corner, saying:

“ Devil take
about? You loo

on man, what are you lum
like Jonah in the ark— ’11 be

cursed if you’re not dead weight enough to sink‘ _ '-

the whole tea rtv.”

“ I don‘t like itfthat’s all.” .

“Tobebeurded byaboyl NomoredoI. But I. ,

that’s nothing. Mister boy will expire shortly.
I’ll lay for him again. Natan had suchaspite
at him that I thoucht he would bring him sure.
And I knew I coufii trust Natan. He and Felipe
were With me a dozen years back. I don’t,
mind telling it to you, as you won‘t learn much
now about it. Of all my friends of those do. a
there’s onlya couple left. That roadagent th t .
was shot by the man that calls himself Burke,
was one of them, and so was his lieutenant.
That was the reason they didn‘t stop me and I
didn’t molest them. Curse them and curse .
Burke: I wouldn’t care if all of them were ‘
dead.” ‘

“ Why?” ‘ ‘

“Know too much. It’s an awful strain to
have old-time pards come peddlingl .
round. May make no end of troub e. And, by
the way, it strikes me that this Dand, arke
knows something about yo‘urs. He’ll

it you don’t  hinuand‘l can’t mwhyyou.

. x ,

 

' E

sway nuke.

don’t ’do it.
' you?”
/ "‘A mistake, that is all.”
’ .“/What kind of a mistake?”
“He connects me with something that hap-
ned in Kansas 9. dozen years ago this month.

I What’s the trouble between

 6 lost his mother and father and the little

'remnant of their fortune. 1 came up to the
scene the next day, and it was a. sight to make

' " _i angels weep.”

" Brant gave a long whistle.
“ Boy saw you, did he?”

~, » I “No, but he heard of it.”

“ Ah! the infernal fool has the wron pig by

' the ear; but/I hope he’ll hold on. y luck

7 again. He got all the rest down fine. I wonder
how it comes he didn‘t drop 120—”

Brant suddenly ceased his solil uy. He had

already said much more than he ad intended

_ to. And yet he hardly thought that Dane, who

' had followed the conversation with aversion,lmd

\ ' heard him.

. He had, and sprung up in some excitement.

“Listen, and know the truth. That boy is
Dane Dorland, n1 own sister’s son, though
never before the ot or night had I seen him. I
sought his father for years to slay him, as he
now seeksnie. I trailed him down—though I
would have struck him only in open fight. I
found on] his corpse. But all the same, I have

‘4, wronged im. The title to the Mexican land-

‘ grant should be his; it was a neglected, for-

gotten part of his-father’s fortune.”

"‘ I see. You want to weaken.”

“Well, I have fallen low down. I could rob
the boy of his patrimon ; but I find I’ve got a
'heart somewhere, and cannot stand the idea.
of that girl down the gulch falling into your

' clutches.”

. ' “ Isee. “Bless on, my children, take each
other and the Ian -grant and be happy.’ The
boy must die.”

, ‘ You are a devil.”

“You’rea long time finding it out. I can’t
have that boy and Blake on my trail.”
U Who?”

“ Blake—4’ .

“ Who is Blake? Not the girl?”

,“ No, the man that calls himself Burke. I
have found the men who will attend to the job."
, “You shall not. I begin to suspect—”

H 

“That you know something of the'massacre.”

“Ha. ha!" , >

"' Laugh if you will, but by heavens your face
is strangely like that I met once at a crossing of
the Bi Blue, and that man was—”

“A jayhawker and a bandit!”

“ Beware what you say. The very walls have
ears. I want no gossip of my past life if it costs
a million.”

“ 1 tall youI know you. Good God! could I
have joined hands with the murderer of my
sister?" ‘

The men were on their feet in a moment.

, There Were oaths and loud words/uttered and
than sudden] the two men clianed, in a fierce
haud-to~han struggle, for Dane was in reality
halt wild with the conflicting emotions raised
hi: is nephew. I

 

It lasted but a moment and then the two fell \ "

apart; but Malcolm Dane dropped heavilyto
the ground, and Brant, after one glance rushed

,from the cabin, leaving a. knife sticking in his

artner’s breast, which he believed had reached,
is heart.

Hardly had the murderer disappeared when a. a
dark form crept up to the thresbo d. . ' '

“Shall I give the villainsacall?” hemuttered;
and listened. '

Within there sounded a hollow groan. It
might be a trick but he believed not. When it
was repeated he entered boldly.

Malcolm Dane lay writhing upon the floor.

“ Hellol This looks like murder. Let’s see.”

He held the lantern down and reco ized the
victim, whose eyes just then opene and were
fixed upon him.

“ Dorland!” he whispered.

The young man stoo ed down in some trepi—
dation “I had thong t my hand would have
done this work, doubly-dyed murderer. As
it has not, I can pity you. I am your sister’s
son—and you slew her and my father, you and
your Kansas outlaws.”

“False!” gasped the man-
trail but I came after it was over.
who slew me was their leader.
other—Geyser J co.”

Dandy Darke as he has heretofore been called,
uttered a cry of astonishment. ‘

“Yes, you got all the rest, but their secret
has been kept until now. You would slay
them? Well? Avenge me too. I am going. ‘
First feel this breast pocket. He forgot my ,
papers. They were your father’s, they are
yours. The cursed grant that lured me here is
there tom—keep it, but avenge me.”

“ I swear it. ’

As he answered he drew out a heavy roll of

“Iwas on the
The man

papers.
“ Do not linger here. They might find you
and”slay you. Go, and remember to avenge

“ Go, and leave you to die alone? Neverl If
this tale be true, I have sadly wron ed you.
Wait! Your wound may not be mor .”

He examined it with deft fingers; but shook
his head gravely. Even now his uncle was
dying. He spoke lower and with rapidly in—
creasing difficulty. u

A few more muttered words. a little clas ing
of hands, a groan or two, and Malcolm one.
was gone.

Then Dane Dorland straightened out the limbs
of the dead, gave a last glance at the face of

him whom he had hated with such deadly hatred ~ « '

and whom even now it was hard to forgive, and
rushed out into the night. Down into the gulch
he slped, with flying feet, and scarcel, halted
Ufiltl he came to the Stockade of the own
5 aft.

CHAPTER XVI.

STRAIGBTENING UP OLD SCORES.

THERE was alight burning in the little cabin
occu ied by the two girls. In response tom's:
knoc Manon admitte him, and Dane Dorland 
was too much excited to notice that she too was, ~ '

deeply agitated.- '

,

 

Blake was an— '

handy Duke.

 

He made no pause. but spoke: '

“ I have just come from thedeath of Malcolm
Dane, Murray Brent’s partner. He was my
nude, and he gave to me the papers in re ard
to this claim, which leaves your title cear.
Here, take them. If I never come back they
are (yours. I go back to seek this Brant, who
mur ered my uncle as he had murdered my
father and mother before. When I find him,
one of us dies. Of all the augl there are but
two alive—he and the fie.an w o entered the
camp to betray it—Burke, Geyser Joe, Blake!
He too must die l”

The girl gave a great scream!

“No, no! It must not be! Listen!”

“I will not listen. He was the worst fiend of
them all, for he crawled in to betray. This
night, for the first time I discovered who he was,
and he shall fall by my hand; I have sworn
it.

“No, no i"

“ Yes!” said a dee voice, and from behind a
curtain of blankets t at divided the little cabin,
came Geyser Joe himself.

“Hyar I am, boy! Kill me whar I stand; I
deserve it!”

He braced himself up for the shot, scarcely
three steps off: and even while he spoke Dane
Dorland’s revolvers were out and leveled at him;
but, with a great bound, Marion Blake threw
herself upon his breast, with her arms clasped
tightly around him.

‘No! Not by your hands, yours! However
he may have sinned he has repented. Slay him,
if Vou dare, he is my father.”

“ What?"

The hands that held the revolvers dropped to
his sides.

“ Your father?”

“Yes. I knew it not until to—night. I had not
seen him since I was a child on his knee: but he
has proved it beyond a. doubt. He had to flee
for his life. and my mother, with Charley‘und I

' left our home. He Wrote tons but we got no
letter. Afterward we received a little fortune
from my uncle, and mother died, and Charley
and I wandered here, and here he found me, and
to-night has , ust told his story.”

“She spea s the truth. but I don’t ask no
mercy. an’ I won’t lift a finger. I had no hand
in the massaker, an’ they told me of I would go

" in thar wouldn’t be any killin’. I shook ’em fur

it an’ they hate me like p’ison, butkill me all the
some. I’ve no weapons on me an’ I know the
oath ver swore."

, “No, no! Do not!

» meg”

' " “ Cured!
sworn!”

“No. By the memory of your love—of our

' lo we ——spare !”

From her father she turned and flung herself

1 upon Dane Dorland’s breast, looking up into his

‘ face, with yearning eyes.

» He caught her to him, printed one kiss on her
brow, and exclaimed:

“ In memory of that he shall live.

. well!” -

And out into thedark night he rushed, as

r lingual: 'a. horde of fiends were after him.

If you ever cared for

Heavens! I have loved—but I have

Fare-

He will ‘keep his word!” said" Marion, turn:-

,steamer, I kinder ’dopted her.

 

ing. “He will kee his word! You need four
trouble no longer. om him your life is safe.” ‘
“Not from me though!” - .
A hoarse, guttural voice resounded through
the room, and with one bound there lea d :
through the window at Marion’s back
Bear, the Indian sport.
upon Geyser Joe~—or rather, Bill “Blake—59"
him, tore him from his feet, thSted him over
his knee, held him there with the talons of his
left hand sunk into his throat, while with his
gighrtt hand he poised a gleaming knife over his
ea . —
“Red Bear look out for bad white man, kill
him friend—kill him daughter’s pappoose. Him .
friend Dandy Darke: keep him many moons;
MatoMazo hear all; Dandy Darke no kill; Red
Bear kill. Wa—hoop!”
it all passed like a flash. Marion gave‘a .

scream of alarm, but stood motionless, While" ‘

her Is telydiscovered father found himself a very '
child in the nervous gri of the Indian. Though
Dane Dorland might £0
close at hand.

But so was Lalaree.

When Marion was motionless with aflrifigg, - I

she acted. From behind the curtain she ms
and flung herself straight under the knife, with
her arm twined around Red Bear under his up-
lifted arm, and her face upturned to his.

“ Stay!" she exclaimed. “I am your daugh-
ter’s child, and this man has been a father to
me. Of what he has done I have just heard the
story!”

The Indian uttered an exclamation of sur-
prise. He cast the knife from him, loosened his
grip on Geyser Joe, and catchin the girl in his
arms, carried her to the light. ith a search-
ing eye he perused every lineament of her face
a broad gleam of conviction beginning to stea
over his own.

“ Yes Lalaree has the eyes of Scarlet Dove,
and the face of Silver Mouth the great war-
medicine of the whites. Red l3ear’s e es have
not been shut to Lalaree, but he coul not be- ,
lievo. Now he does. He will never try to put
garnlife’into the white man that saved his child. :

‘ a '0!

This sudden transition might have provokeda  1' V
smile under other circumstances—under these itr "

was accepted in thorough good faith by theman
just staggering to his feet.

“ I‘ll take it, sport; fur mebbe I desarve,
rough handlin’ tho I’se done my level best fur
ther leetle gal I dragged outer ther hands .ov
ther cussed rang; I got in with. I turned sick _
that night, .
thinkin’ my own bed gone under, fur 1’d kinder
got word they was all burned onaMississip’ .

good luck, too; but when I thort I‘d got a. .
glimpse of a trail that might, lead to my own, I
dragged her ’round more than I orter. Thar "
blood told tho’, an‘ hyer she ar"! I’ve found
my own darter, but es long es I've a dollar in.
ther ranch. ou bet I’ll look out fur Lalaree.” ,
Geyser Joe told his story in arough, off-hand '
way. but his hearers were all deeply affected.
Though Red Bear maintained his stoicism fairly
well, there were many questions to be asked'afifl ‘2‘
answered at this strange reunion, and some thug

. f

Like a tiger he sprligg ' .

rgive, vengeance was 

did, and I saved, that gal. aa’, '

She brung me ' g

'1

 

l I: , that boy’s; you’d better

Dandyl‘Darket’ ‘ ‘ ’

 

slipped away before the absent one was remem—
bored.

“See hyer, Red Bear, Iyou’re an ole pard ov
ook arter him a leetle.
He’son a/ trail thetlwill lead him to trouble.
. Mebbe he wouldn’t like to see me; but if you go
you kin tell him how ther laud lays, an’ perhaps
some day he’ll be willin’ to forgive me.”
“ Waugh! Joe talk straight, clear to the hub.
Red Bear find Dandy Darke; back him up heap
‘ big; bring him back hunky-clunky! You bet!
Go right along now. Waugh! lnjun sport on
the shoot ’wa up. Sabbe? Solong!"
And Red r Went out into the darkness
just as the sound of a distant shot fell on their
ears.

CHAPTER XVII.
nUNG BY THE NECK.

WHEN Dane Dorland rushed out from the
resence of the woman whom he now knew he
oved more desperately than life itself, his brain

was in a whirl, though through all the confu—
sion of his thoughts there ran the thread of one
settled purpose. He intended to kill Murray
Brant.

Bitterly he cursed himself that. u to this
time he had never recognized in him tie leader
of that ang of outlaws who had made the ni ht
onslaug t on his father’s camp, and whom is

‘young mind, biased by the conversations he had

overheard, had always believed .had operated
under the instruction of Malcolm Dane, who
from that night had been a. fugitive from re-
membrance and revenge as much as Dorland
had ever been.

He left the stockade, and turned almost me—
chanically toward High Pine and went on up
the dark road without taking much account of

, his surroundings.

r a - The time had not yet come for work; then he
would have a had clear enough for business.
Now he was thinking more of the strange stories
he had that night heard, and of the death of

' “Malcolm Dane. His wits were wool-gathering.

He Was destined to have them brought back
veg suddenly.

p from behind the rock at his very back
there T958 amen, who threw himself suddean
upon him; pinning his arms down to his side wit
arms of steel, at the same time flinging himsclf
backward upon the ground,

Even in this surprise, Dorland had a istol
out—but it was never raised. One barre was

‘ harmlessly discharged, and it dropped from his
grasp as a pair of very stout ankles were crossed

r over his and. Dane Dorlaud found himself
,clas nightly in a human Vlse as unyielding as
if 0 iron, from which there seemed no way of
escape What was the meaning of this a, tack

’ he could not at once determine; but he ha no
doubt that his cagtor had confederates close at
hand, though he ad accomplished the work so

v tar unaided.

" There was not the least chance for a struggle
of  kind, and when the man gave a low

‘  e, Doriandxwas certain that the rest of his
, mwhoever they might be, would soon be upon

‘ ' not mistaken. Others hastened up_

My bound, and then carried for

 

some distance by several men who cursed him
heartily for being so heavy. '

Then he r as flung, face downward, upon the
ground, While his captors stood around, evident-
ly waiting for souiething,t' what or whom he
knew not. He rolled over upon his back, and
by the light of a fire smoldering against a rock,
saw several men standing around.

“ Hold on tharl You go floppin’ about an’
we’ll drill yer. J ist lay still my son.”

“ Drill and be hanged. Y’e’r’ just men enough
for that kind of a. dodge. You didn’t dare give
me a. show you infernal cowards, or I’d have
been standing up, and two or three of you would
have been lying down. Where’s the man or men
that; stand up against me with knife, fists or
pis

“ Nowhar, Cap! I reckon we’ll stand up ag’in’
yer with a rope. Ef ye ever sees da 'light ag’in
call me a double-knuckled, four-1e go , Six- jawed
liar! Now, keep er clamshells s ut till the boss
comes, er we’ll szi ivate yer with the butt-end of
a carbine.”

The man raised his weapsm threatenineg as
he spoke and poised it over ane Dorland’s face.

A single downward thrust of the heavy, iron-

boun breech would mar the wild beauty of his
face forever.

“ Strike, and be hanged to you; but if you
touch me, finish your work, for a day of settle-
ment may come. Sooner or later I pay my debts
in full.” "

“ You crow loud fur a. bantam,”answered the
man in a ('hreless tone. “ but I like to see pluck
to the backbone. Take it out in swearin’, an’
cussed of I’ll strike yer, ef yer don’t raise too
high a racket. Don’t git me inter trouble, tho’;
fer the Cap ’11 let go lively, if things don’t suit
when he kims up.”

There was a rude sort of admiration in the
man’s tones.

“ Into whose hands have I fallen?” asked
Dorland, noting at once the half-way sym-
patkiy. ‘

“ t’s none of ycr biz, youngster, but I’ll tell
yer, fur ye’ll never hev a chance to carry it fur-
der. Ther Hawks of High Pine it ar’ thet hes ,
yer foul. Now dry up.”

By a few easy words the man accomplished
more than threat or force would! ave done. ‘For
ten minutes there was perfect silent-e, broken at
last by a heavy tram , tram . ,

After a little Dane orland) heard quite near
to him the voices of two men engaged in con-
versation, and the storytof his capture was ex-
plained. 

“ Ah!" said a voice, that he recognized .as
Murray Brent's; “ that was excellent. Thomas
is an invaluable man and will not be forgotten.
As for thismpiece of carrion, there was no need
to wait. hen I first spoke to you about this
afiair I told you what I wanted to do with him.
He has already killed halt a. dozen of my old
friends, and he or I must die. Take the rope and
hang him to a tree. That cursed pistol-shot may
give the alarm; and, anyway, there is no time
to waste.”

“ You’ll‘take a squint at him to see, sure, it’s
the2 igghtgnan?" .

V Then-Dwelborland saw the squat figured! ‘

\

 

Dandy barks.

 

‘ Brant bending above him, holding a brand from
the fire over his face.
"‘Ha, ha, youngster!

V .Eives a man two chances._ _
o-down shaft pouring its treasures into my

Murray Brant seldom
With you dead, the

" coffers, and the beautiful Marion in my power

and solacing my weary hours with her rosy lips
and loving glances, I think I can enjt y my tem-
porary banishment, even in High Pine.”
“Villainl outlaw! thief! Inurdererl For all
your millions, your soul is black with past
crime. Your hands are even now wet with the
blood of the unhappy man whom you had pro—
tended to make your partner! But G-o—zlown
shaft shall never be yours. I, Dane Dorland, in
whom vests the title of that grant. the papers
for which you forgot to secure, swrar it. Mari—

' ,. on Blake shall never be yours-—there are those

about her who would rather slay her where she
stands! And I shall not dlel I will live to
trail you to your lair. and kill you in the hour
of your triumph! I swear there is war to the
knife between us! Now do your worst!”

At that moment a rope, flung by a steady
hand, curled and writhed over a limb of a tree
that hung suggestivcly near.

The noosei end of a rope dro pod upon Dor-
land’s face and breast, and lay tlhere coiled and
deadly like a snake.

“Gag the fool, and then take the, rope and
fit it to his neck and swing him up. I went to
see him give one solid kick against nothingr be—
‘fore I go. The men I brought dow from High
Pine are arrant cut-throats all. If leave them
five minutes, they’ll go on and suck the shaft on
their own hook. I hardly dare trust myself
nmong them without a. body-guard. Faith! I
think they ran the Hawks out of High Pine be—
cause they were too fine for their company.
U with him!”

ith teeth closse'i'hard and eyes gleaminq
savagely, Dane Dorland felt the noose drawn
around his neck. He neither winced nor utter-
ed a prayer.

“ Now!” said Brent, and he kicked savagely
the bound and utterly helpless form. “ Up
with him. Good-night, Mr. Dorland. I’m oii’.

‘ for Marion!”

And up Dane Doriand did go. No chance or
he 9 of escape for him now. Murray Brant,
fol owed by the outlaws, flied quietly out of the
little glen Where, straight and silent, they left
him that had so long been known as Dandy
Derke, hanging by the neck.

~ ' CHAPTER XVIII.
A name’s MERCY AND THE RED sron'r‘s GIFT.

HARDLY had the sounds of the retreating foot
steps been lost in the night when the body of
Dane Dorlanrl came down with a. sudden crash;
Red Bear, the Indian 8 ort, leaped to his side,
and cut the cords that ound mouth and hands
and feet.

“Ugh! Dandy Darke good for dozen yet!
. No_hang in half much time. Darkel eh? Leetle

'white face collin’? Wake up an’ shoot. Here
firemater. Gooqle, googlel Drink um down;
e um want hang forty time. Say.” ’

While-thevlndian spoke in a. low tone hebusied

young lady, when I do strike.

 

himself about the young man, who gave e'vei‘yw
symgtom of speedin reviving. I, 
“ ome! white girl heap danger; no time feei

here. Dandy Darke an’ Red Sport go on shoot!" * 7

He shook the shoulder of the gasping man, and u
then, as if unwilling to waste a moment. caught 
him up over his shoulder like a child and started
out in the wake of Murray Brent and his 
of desperadoes. ' v '

Not for nothing had Murray Brant been quiete
1y hiding his time. Without a word to his part-; '
nor, who, from the first, he had suspected would
be lukewarm over the scheme, he had made his if
arrangements and gathered together from High a
Pine a trusty gang of recruits, while he had
made arrangements with the cut-throats known
as “ The Hawks,” who lurked without, some of
whom by chance he had known in years gone I
by, to join him in the attack. They sought re-'
venge on Geyser Joe, but he intended to use them / I
also in his plot against the liberty of Marion. '
They came down upon the Go-clown shaft like? *
the tigers they were. stealthy, silent and savage. "

“Vithout an alarm they won their way into the. ,

stockude at the expense of the life of a. careless
sentinel. Around the cabin when the men were»;
sleeping gathered a dozen of the ruflians, each i
with a weapon cooked and poised, but lying low
on the ground, so that those within could not see
where to direct their shots. 
Then, with a. rush, Murray Brant, followed ‘

by three of the Hawks, flung himself upon the Y"

shanty where Marion and Lalaree lay, clasped '
in each other’s arms, without a thought of dan- '

ger.
lVith gloating eyes and nervous arms two
strong men caught up the girls Who, but a few
moments before, had flung themselves down,_f
dressed as they were.  . ‘
“Hold her mouth shut ” Murray Brant or;
dered, and then turned to urpn, as wild yells ‘
and the noise of several shots, and then a glare v
of fire arose without. , i
“ I am accustomed to strike hard, my dear
I offered (you »
any accommodation, almost, and you refused. '
Now I take my own with usury. The little ‘
Indian girl who refused the suit of the min-
ing millionaire, in Frisco, will be the plaything .
of the leader of the bandit Hawks of High Pine.
As for you—your fate is still unsettled. I have
yearned for you as I never yearned for any
other woman, and it was only when I learned.
that you had set out for this delightful recepta—

_e1e of human tigers that I decided to invest, ‘;

with my friend, m Go—down shaft, as it is now
called. We missed you on the way, for we '
took the lower trail; ' but at last I hays
you. This night you Wlii disappear. It will
rest with you whether your feet ever stray
again outside of these mountain recesses, F

a day or so the Hawks will be your filmrdiansze
they are, olrl friends of mine—then Will seek
vou. Either you listen to reason or~—you die.

'I hung your boy lover not ten minutes ago.~ ‘

would hang vou the same way rather than even
seevou belong; toanother.” .  /- ,
' While he spoke the occupation of the camp-
seemed complete. 'In obedience to shrimp!»
ders. one after another the men came out.

their cabin with ligands upliftedyand

;

 

’ “may mag; 

 

» own their weapons‘ passed sulkily on outside
9f the glare of the fire into the darkness that lay
.in one corner of the stockade, whither they were
hidden retire.
“ Now,” continued Brant, turning to the men,
“ while they are busy with tlxigegien carry away
the girls. I will see you Sm upon the we
and then return to take possession, which is a 1
‘the law that High Pine knows. when it is
backed by force.”
‘ .He strode out into the glare of the fire, fol-
liiwing upon the heels of his men, and their bur-
ens

And then a wild shriek from the girls did not
drown his harsh cry of:
“ Ho there, High Pinersl This way 3”
. He had caught sight of two forms bounding
" {toward him, and he tugged at the weapon in his
r elt.
, But his hand had lost its cunning. Before he
could draw the pistol the drop was on hini.
, With a. great leap the Red Sport—Scarlet
Bear—with one mighty spring seized the two
‘ men by the throat. In either hand beheld an
outlaw, with a sickening, crushing grip. To the
(mud dropped the girls, while a step or two
ack, with arevolver in either hand, stood Dane
, Dorland, one barrel menacing Brant, the other
' » leveled fair and square at the third outlaw.
"  And this barrel spoke without belt or warn-
ing, and down dropped the Hawk. *
‘At lastl” shouted Dorland. “ Villain, mon-
r stcr, murderer of my family, you die. A thou—
v , sand tortures were none too good. It breaks
my heart that I dare not save you for them.
/ But you shall not escape, though I give you a
chance for your life. Ah!”
A sharp report (rut the air. Brant had barely
drawn his pistol from its holder, when, turning

the muzzle upward. he fired a line shot with it,‘

'  held close bv his side.

j “‘ He has hit me—but he dies!” exclaimed Dor-
‘lhndf. and his weapon answered. Then he pitched
heavily to the ground, Murray Brant falling at

the same instant, with a hole drilled through the
‘ center of his forehead.

The sound of voices and shots struck upon the
ears of the crowd at the other cabin. They
came rushing up In a body, just in time to see

, , their chief go down, and Scarlet Bear fling the
' two girls back into the shanty.

‘ ‘,‘ Red Sport’s ’round, wa—hoop!“ he shouted,
backing?r up to the wall and whipping out his is-
tols. ‘ Cinnamon h‘ars an’ painters, but P’m

' ugly on er shoot. Wa—hoop!”

' , And the deadly rattle of his revolvers began,

, just as a voice in the rear yelled:

 

“ Hyer’s Geyser Joe on hand. Warp it to ’
boyeesl Hyer’s fun at High Pine, an not‘a.
saved 1” -

With a rush and a cheer Geyser Joe, followed
by two or three men opened fire. he sur'. ,
prisers were surprised. Murray Brant was down,

the Hawks were down, more than one of the 

Tigers of High Pine had fallen before the rapid I
rain of shots, and with no one to lead them on,
the rabble turned and fled. Once more the Go-
down shaft was firmly settled in the hands of

itsiaprop‘zr owner.

ut arion Blake was kneelin by the side
of motionless Dane Dorland, and t e rain of her
tears fell upon his marble face, while he heard
not her wild voice, imploring him to come back
to love and to her!

“Umphl” said Red Bear, close at her ear:— 2 '

“Red sport big on the shoot; him all hunky
dunky. Dandy Darke big on get well; him be
all hunky dunky too, bime—bye, soon. White
squaw waste tear; little red girl nurse him up ,
then, an’ handy Darke have big heart fur her.
Eh? Go slow. Him coniin7 right now. Hunky
clunky! "Wa-hoopi”

W'ith the air of an experienced surgeon, Red
Sport had been examining Dorland. The bullet
of Murray Brent’s pistol had barely touched
him, plowing its way along a rib that lay
above the heart. It was the shock and the (er:

tainty when his own trigger had been pulled that , ”

his work was done, that had bereft him of Con-
sciousness. The Indian bore him into the shanty,
and not long was it before his opening eyes
looked full into those of Marion Blake, w ho
was still bending over him with a. world of con-
cern pictured in her fair pale face.

No need is there here to go further into this
history of Godown shaft. Thus won, with
three men like Dane Dorland, Ge ser Joe and
Scarlet Bear, the Red Sport, to hol it, the Tigers
of High Pine might snarl in the distance and
yearn to spring upon the quarry so temptineg

near, but there were stout hands and hearts, and . 

sure shooting weapons behind the little stockade,
and even with a human tiger discretion is some—
times the better pait of valor. But a hundred
miles to the north, at the little mission church
of Los Apostols, a certain white-hailed old
priest, whose life had been well at in mission
work, heard Dane Doriand’s ips utter yet
another vow. Only this time he gazed lovingly
into the face of the beautiful Marion Blake, and
this vow, as that other one, Scarlet Bear once
more a witness, though [alarm was now byKhis
side, knew that he would keep to the death.

THE END

 

 

 

32 OCTAVO PAGES.

POCKE LIBRARY?“

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l Demiwootl Dick. llf‘ Erlwunl L. Wheeler. 85 Tho Boy Miners. By ElllVllfd S. Ellis.

‘ Knu-A H kill '_- 1“ WV“ 0 “I”- 86 Jack llurkuwuy in New York. By Bruce-

The Flying nu. (‘0. EV Cul. Prenlks inzrnlmm. brill a Hemyng.

The Mnlhle buggers. liy linlwm-d  \i‘lmelor. 87 The lumuu- Captain. By Col. Prentiss ingmhum.

The. l‘wn Dem-mix en. By Alln-rL \\ . Amen. 88 Deadwood Dick in Lendvllle. liy E. L.V\‘hl«ch-r.

The l’ruirlc l’ilol. 15y lintl’alo Bill. 89 Hill lllllllou‘, Trap er. By Edwnrd S. Ellis.

The lhlii’ulo I'muuu. ily Edwurd L. Wheeler. 90 Tippy, the, 1cxmw {y ago,“ meme

Autein )0 Alma, the Hay Gull ily Oil (funnies. 91 Mustang Emu. B - Jul. E. Bndger, Jr.

Nell “lvllle. Ille liny Sr 1L. lly “Tex”! Juvk" 92 The (Menu Blood «and. By Snmnrl W. Pun-e.

Bllll'uln "on, l‘rinr-c of [he rmnl. By E. LWIIeeleh 98 Phil llurd ', the Bonn: Buy. By Clmrlea Morris.

Ruluh Roy. the 1an Hurt'glm- . My (1 l. lngrnhnm. 94 Demlwoml lick a! ilelcet ‘ ‘

Nlck 0‘ the {glib By F- "ll'fllfiflull- 95 liuck lluekruul. By (‘21; I . . Adams.
'elluwntoue . “ck. “y Jlm'hh In. llmlgvr, Jr. 96 Gilt-Edged Dick. ll ' Edward L. Wheeler.

Vild ivun llm Bay (‘lluxrlu Duml. lly E. l..Wheeler. 97 The Bluek steed of; IL. prulrlem J_ L_ new“.

I‘ - l illrk. lly Cnlullrl Prentiss lngmllmn. am In“, so“ serpent. By Juan Lewis,

if the l‘ruirlm 8." 0110mm“ .1: mu, h... All... Trucker. liy E. L. “’heeler.
LJ ( Aglmns 100 NM, [mu]. liy wnnlS. Ellis.
. l‘h 14' “'hm’lel“ llll Daring Duvv. ' ilnrry St. George.

mun Jun . . .0 ‘IIILS. 102 The Yellow Chit By Capt. Muva Reld.

{onrlug “Illpll Huck 3vuml  lI- Sl- 0901129‘ 108 Chip, the Girl Slant. lly Edward L. Wlxleuler.

‘he "03‘ Clflw'lc ” ‘ “"“1‘ 3 “ML , 104 The llinek Schooner. By Ram-r Sim-buck.

The I‘huunuu Min _ ll,- ..Iwhn| L. V} lmeler. 1m»; llnmhmnc flurry. By chm,” Mama.

The firu-l‘ut, li_\' ( uplnlll l‘l'wlel‘lck \Vliilhll-Her. “,6 Nluh¢.](3wk Inc, By Jox. E. nndpr, Jr. _

’l‘hc Duluh Spy. “5' 0“ ('0 )Wl- .lnek llovle‘u Lem]. 5y Edward L. Whenll-r.
“Mill!!! lill'be- 1‘. “M‘I‘l 5“ ""m'ge- Rock 3louutuiu Kit. By '1‘. C. Harbnugh.

(DillAVuiuuclu‘. llmt llAnnihuvItnr. By W’H‘Plel- 'i'hu lrmltlcd llnud. Bv Frmll: Dummxt. '

“In "Jaye, (ix-nut H v! of the, \‘\ esl. lly (‘an Allmns. ' ‘he “read “men n)- dwrnn w. "NM"...

The Buy lnutul . “l Rum-r Slllx'lflfl‘k. 3mm “0". ilIl-Kinu(vl‘llmvlhln".. l..\\'lu'-: er.

Dick Hurling. , r -  'k “"'i”"“l“’- ’i‘hc lielplonn llumi. i5); ‘npl. Mayne Reid.
"uh \\ ll". the IL lv’ ' ' . l‘ L. Wheeler. fipurJt‘Iu-e Silul, tleil Illlunlwr. livOlH‘v‘

Nluhtl- Ile Nut. , 1 I * n”- l’nul,llue Mum .l’my. liy’l‘ -.

“Snell Jnhu. Mm lluml  . . .‘ lllegl-r, Jr. numwofld luck)" no mm .

"mull" “H, the him-l: (l . ll~ l... L. \\ l  ~r. .lnbez Cum“. Sill}! :rr. lly Capt. . hummer.

Burt Bunker. N ’l'rnlvlmv “N “Wm E- Lnsnlle. 1",...” Prunk, ofg‘ulunulo. By Human Biil.

The Buy llllleu. Ily .\.l lrmm. wm “'lidllre, the Thoroughbred. liy ('lms.l\inrris. ’

The \Vhlle ll ll'ulu. " hwl’L’" Fv L"~‘1‘”°- 9 Bloudc Bill or. Dellduoud DiLk’u Home lime.

.llm lilullmm. J 1-. “v “MI I. “'lm‘h‘r- By Edward L. 'hvular.

Ned .lluzel. llle lin)‘ ' ' . lly Capt. Adams. 0 Gopher GM, llleliny’l‘mpper. liy'i‘.(‘. Hm-huvuh.

Domllv Eye. ‘ ' ~ 13V “MM” Bl“- 121 Hurry Arnmtrong. llu- Cilillllll nfllm Club. lly

D Nlek “'hilllen’! I’t-l. ,‘ 3 - F- C. Ade- llrwchl-Idgollunuwg,(Jn(-kllm'mmy.)
lM-mlwmnl Dlek‘v‘ “Ill-£10"- R- In “WWI”? 122 The Hunted luuler. By llitlwnnl 5. Ellis.
The Border Klug. By ()ll I'm-"mu. 123 50".] sum, the Buy Ri-ml-Agenl. F. L. Wheeler.
(Dill Illekory. Hy llurr) “t. “rerun. [24 Judge Lynoh. Jr. By 'i'. C. H \ilgll.

The “Hill? "Nun"- ' ' ' “l- F~ 0' A““‘“'- 125 The Lnnd I’ll-men. lly (‘nyL Muny Reid.
liueklun'u lilll. “l' I‘l< "N L- W “Y- l2“ llllw Bluzeu. ll); ank l'fliilivlll.

' The thlow Ship. Hy (‘IlL l'l'wlt Immlmm‘ 12? TOIIV an. the Fern-t. By E! vnrvl L. thwler.
The m! "run-orhm-d‘ “v “’- JIM-film 128 wui “'lldllre’h mwcr. l‘lmrlcs Alums.
lhuulv J k M 'l‘. (‘ Hurimuuh. 29 Hugh- RM, the l ny lhnlrm. lh Ull r'mnm.
llurrleu e . 1* V
Single lluud. llv \V. .l. Hamill...” v 1 A Game 0 60m. 1;) 15.1mm] L. “1mm. ,.
i’utcnt-leullu-r Joe. My l'lnlllt 5: “ “"18.- 132 Dainty Idllll't, l'mv lioy Sport. ilyJ. E. Bullgcl’, Jr.
The urllcr lluhiu lloml. lly llulluln lull. “in “-|m_fl,.c~ we mm. m a“. nami‘ My ymnk Dunn...“
Gold {Hie the Shm‘ allow-r. ll Lll. |.. \Vlluclfll’. 134 mu“. Men.“ “mum.” p.41". 130", By cfm. m.
01d 210‘! (whim iv (‘ul't- J~ l 6- A‘lfl'm- mr, Deadwood "wk of Deadwood. m Vl'llrrlerl
Deluu‘urc Dick. Hy “ll Q‘jmlml- I I36 "hi Rube. thvl'lnnlwr. nymph llunlllmdlulnms.
.Viml Tum \l’eulern. lh- \MJ- “HHHWW- :3? Dnle Rook. By a. “'nldw lmmm.
Demlwoml Dluk un Deg-k. ll L. \\ healer. '33 “0‘, “00kg”. u... um nudge“ my ( I”... m. rm,
lllnvlteye Iurry. Hy Oil (‘nm 'f. .HQ The Black Glflnt. By .lnseph ii. llmlger, Jr.
The "of lhlellnl. ily Col. l'nmma lnzvrulmm. 40 Cunt“... Arlzmm. “I, mm“,  “5mm.

Abe (10 l. ' i New Turk Nell. lh- Edwnnl 1.. Whaler.

tan-mama".

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' .l -p|l E. llmlger, Jr. 1!“) Gold Tr“, “.r. the Spurl. Ev 'l'. C. llnrb' gh.
1.!

the Crow-Ix ill-r. ly Alhrl‘i Vl. Aiken. 4
My Palm-n1 'Im'lcr. , 42 Lime ’l‘(-xnn,llxa You": )lusmnner. By on Coomea.
lmy lleterlivu. .3 Clllis. .‘lorrls. . Dinah m. “5.1.; Balm“, Jr.

50‘ G" “'3 “W "“"'"""""~ "“"-W'A"‘"‘“~ Grlt, the hm Rider. By (‘hLinzrhhmm

linneluul Rub. lly Ellwul‘d l.. \thaler. 145 The Tlch oanm‘. B}. GE" “ “Id” Brvwnm
if Ll htulul: Joe. llndpt. J. F. C. Adnml. )4“ The C“ “0 K“. _ B). Irmnk Dumom:

Kl: Hun-foot. By T. U. llurlmnzll. 147 Nohhv lek of Brew-lulu. lfiv E. l., ll hwll-r.
Rollo, the Bnylluncvr. ByUll (loaning. 143 Thunllerhnit Tom. By Burr .\l. benign
lilyl. llw Girl Miner. lly llwlml L.“ healer. 9mm” NW. 1".

Delwtlvcinok. li_\'('h Infillorrm. 149 R0}; “mam”. the Bank Rumm‘ By Chm“
Sure, Shut 50th. the ll - {lllenmm llyOllCoomeu. Mum“. RPM". NW. 1-,.
fihur 1 Hum. lly J. Alu‘xumlur l’lllllfin'. ‘ 150 The Mad lunar. By G. Waldo Browne. llcmly
The l.lou ol'tlle, Hell. ih- Alhan W. Alkerl. ‘vl . I!
l’hutogruph I'll”th Bu} "Slmlth. liyE.L.\\he.:lur. 151 The 50“ Trailer. By 00L pmm“ hmmhmm
l’l Ic l’eto ll) Churvi .\lnrr s. Rmhh. De“. L > y

I w l’rl ul' Um Family. By Brace~ 152 Dun“). “MI-kc, By “'illiam R. liyaiur. Bond).

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.L l, .. 1. Illlrlwmy). m s. V
“run 14;“ o, elm Slquu-w. Hy Ellwurd L. Wheeler. ")3 “rim Frank, we nurlmmn Bravo. n), Edm‘rd
“lok ll [Ill lilyiui‘, llfigli l’ruulllgsn #Ilgrllllm‘lvi‘ h 1" “mud”. Rum), Dem “L
p. ) . A '99, y .(. .. 01- r. ' _ V 5
 M llutuuger. My (‘u A. Mayne Reid. _ “fulfil Ekory Vl earn-lulu). N I
uhl Fruplv, lllu Uni-h- By T. C. llurl-uugh. Bendlo’u I what Library In fur '51qu by all on...
8 The Sea Viper. lly Ct-l. l’mullsu lngmlnun. d. illul'li, lllvu cam; jlci' copy, ur «cm. by mm] m: m;ch .l “x
8 ‘ - I neg. By E lwmd C lullm. can“ we I.  ,.
8: (b‘lItlllill'lluCllul. llm (flunukrlbileMEhlefi B ‘ “'llcvlcr. BEADLE'AH ADAMS, l’ubllslllern,
34 The Dumb Page. By Cnpl. Frederick Inlmker. 9:: William Mreec, he“ ‘1 1:11.].

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