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DEAD-SHOT DANDY RAISED TEE OUTLAW IN HIS STRONG ARMS. AS THOUGH HE HAD BEEN A CHILD:
“D THE-2W HIM ACROSS THE SADDLE-

0

 

 

2 Dead-Shot Dandy'l Double.

 

Iliad-Shut Randy’s Double;

BENITO, THE BOY PARD.

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,
surnon or “nan: snor DANDY,” “Kmv,
rim BOY ROVER,” “MERLE, rim nor
oanrsna," 1:10., mo.

 

CHAPTER I.
A GIRL’S PROMISE. .

A mm was riding alone over the prairies,
and her course lay for San Antonio, that an-
cient town of the Lone Star State.

She was well mounted upon a wiry mustang
that pulled hard on the bit, as though anxious
to reach the town, visible a league ahead, but
his rider curbed his impatience and seemed to
prefer to go at a slow pace.

Scarcely over seventeen, she get possessed a
form of exquisite grace, set 0 by a riding-
habit of dark green, trimmed with gold lace.

Her face was very beautiful, innocent as a
child’s and yet ~lossessed features that were
strongly stamped with pride, resolution and
character far beyond her years.

That she belonged to the higher walks of life,
was evident from her air of refinement and
her dress, which was elegar while her bridle
and saddle were silver—mounted and very richly

carved.

“Well, Mischief, do you want a drink? for
yonder is the spring, and if you do not, I do,”
she said to her pony, as she turned him toward
a clump of timber half a mile away.

“ Strange that my father has not come, for he
is so prompt to keep his promises, and the day
he set has passed a week ago.

“I hope no harm has befallen him, but some-
how I always dread trouble in this wild land.

“Thou h I only see him twice each year, I
love him evotedly, and now that I have com-
pleted my studies, I intend to urge him to take
me to his ranch, wherever it is, for I declare I
do not know.

“ I could make his home so comfortable for
him. and I can take care of myself if it is in a

rous part of the country, for I can throw
a lariat, ride like a Comanche. and am a dead
shot, am I not, Mischief— Oh! there isa chance
for a shot.”

Quick as a flash she whipped out a small re-
volver from a ho r on her saddle-horn, and
aimed ata bird which had just flown from the
prairie grass, and was hovering on wings some
twenty paces distant. ‘ »

With the crack of the pistol the bird dropped
dead, and the report startling its mate from its
hidin place it too was shot on the wing.

“ as that not well done, Mischief?” she said,
pyeparing to reload the weapon as she rode
a ong.

But there was something out of order with
the weapon, some screw loose, and, with an im-
patient exclamation she thrust it back into its

 

holster and rode on at a cantor toward the
spring she had referred to, and which she knew
was in the shelter of the timber ahead.

The clump of trees was a favorite camping-
plaoe of trains, scouts. and soldiers on the
march, for there was water in plenty, the
grass grew rich upon he surrounding prairie,
and then there was plenty of wood for the cheer-
ful camp-fires.

When expecting one of her father’s semi-
annual visits, the maiden was wont to ride out;
in the afternoon for miles upon the trail she
knew he came, and upon his departure would
sometimes accom ny 13101 upon his way until
the town of San ntonio would disappear from
31 ht behind her.

tterly fearless she cared nothin for the
wild characters that infested the ion, for if
the speed of her pony failed her she ad her re.
volver left, she always said, when warned of
danger.

F uently before she had halted at the spring
fora rink for herself and pony, and now she
rode directly to the spot wheret 0 crystal water
bubbled up cool and inviting.

“ Don’t be ready, Mischief, but wait until I
have had a rink, for you .muddy the water
playing in it,” she said, restraining hei- pony, and
springing from her saddle. _

An old tincup hung by the spring and taking
this she bent over to 11 it, when her arms were
seized in a grasp she could not shake 011', and
glancing over her shoulders she saw a fierce face
peering into her own.

“ Unhaiid me, senor! how dare. you thus seize
me?" she cried in stern tones, trying to (me her
arms from his grasp.

“Now jist be still, leetle gal, an’ yer Won’t
git hurted fer I_don’t mean you no harm, [er I
hez ‘ist tu yer in tar tin.”

“ have but little money with me," answered
the maiden, knowmg what he meant by tin,

“ What I have you can take, and let me go,”

“ No. I hain’t a durned fool."

“ What do you mean?"

“ I means that I has hed my eye on you fer
some time, fer lyer folks is rich, an’ they’ll pay
ter git you bac ." .

“ You are mistaken, my father is not rich,
and I am no kindred to the Brents, with whom
I dwell.” ' _

“ Waal, yer is in thar keer; an’ I guesses
they’ll pay ter git yer back.”

‘ Not one peso will they pay.”

“ Vgaal, we‘ll see, fer yer goes with me anv-

how.
In vain she tried to free herself, for the man
t strength, and said:

“’Tain’t no use kickin’ ag’in’ it, leetle gal, fer
yer has ter go. Ef yer goes quiet, all are so-
rene, an’ef yer don’t, then I’ll tie yer, biud up
thet pretty rosebud mouth ter keep yer from
shoutin', an’ take yer anyhow. What does yer

sa 1”

xI will give you my word to meet on here u
tomorrow with your price, if you w 11 let me
go now.” ,

“ Nary, fer yer might hev comp’ny."

“ No, I will come a one.” ‘

“ Yer might hev others ter foller.”

“ I will not, for I will not speak of my inten.

 

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Dead-Shot Dandy ’3 Double. 3

 

tion, and I will bring what I have of my own
money.”

“ How much are that?”

“ I have five hundred pesos laid up.”

“ Waal, I wants more.”

‘f I have no more.” .

“ Yer has jewelry, for tbar is a watch an‘
chain, an’v some ear-bobs, while I guesses yer
gloves hides some rings.” '

“ Well, I will leave my watch and chain with
you as securit , and return to—morrow with the
five hundred.‘

“ Say er’ll fetch ther money, and give me

gets, lettin’ me hev ther timer now an
yer kin go.

“ But yer hes ter promise ’pon yer sacred
word yer’ll be here.”

“ I will be here, I promise you.“

“ At what time?”

“ At about this time.”

“No, make ita leetle later, so thet I kin hev

’ darkness ter skip in, ef thar were ter be a mis-

take.”

“ Very well.”

“ And yer’ll come alone?”

“ Yes.’

“And won’t give it away thet yer is comin’
ter meet me?”

N No.”

“ ghet are good, an‘ I knows yer’ll keep yer
wor .

“ Now, yer kin go, as soon as yer give me ther
timer.” "

He released her as he spoke, and taking of! the
watch and chain, she handed it to him.

Then she very coolly took a drink of water,
and allowed her pony to do likewise.

“ Waal you is a cool one,” said the robber,
admiring y.

She merely smiled, sprung into her saddle
refusing his proffered assistance, and salli

' away out of the timber.

 

CHAPTER II.
THE BXTER ism-TEN.

“ WAAL, ef thet gal do kee her word, she’ll
be 'ther gamest piece 0‘ calico ever seen in my
lifetime.”

The speaker was the ruflian who the evening
before had seized the maiden at the sEring in the
timber, and compromised by taking er word to

w bring him five hundred dollars for her freedom,

along with her jewels. ,
To escape from his clutches she had given the
promise, and with the intention of keeping it.
,On his part the robber had been willing for

the com romiae, as he was then a hunted man,

and he ad no place to take his fair prisoner
while he was waiting for ransom.

His horse stood, back in the timber saddled
and bridled, ready for a race, should it neces-
sarTy, and his rifle hung at his saddle-horn.

he animal was a splendid one, and, in fact,
his speed and bottom a one had saved his master
from having been suspended to a tree on several
occasions.

The man was clad in buckskin, wore a belt of
arms, and had a face that was repulsive in the
extreme.

Bad Ben was the name he was known by, and
he deserved it, for he was one of the most

 

 

wicked rascals that haunted the vicinity of San
Antonio.

" With ther money,” he continued, kee ing his
eyes on the distant trail leading from n An.
tonio, “ I will dust out 0’ this, fer ’tain’t healthy
fer a man in a commoonity whar they 03ers a
thousand dollars fer him, dead or alive.

“ I’ll strike fer New Mexico, an’ I guemes thet
part 0’ ther kentry will jist suit me.

“ Ef ther gal comes, tho’?” and he peered
anxiously into the distance in search for the
hoped~for maiden.

" E! I bed a place ter take her, an’ somebody
ter negftiate fer me, I'd hold her fer ransom, as
them rents w’u’d pay a big sum ter her, bem’
as she are left in the’r charge. .

“ But I might git a. rope cravat while waitm’,
so I’ll jist sail off with what I kin git.

“ Ahl thar comes some one.”

He looked earnestly at the person who had
caught his eye, and then continued:

“ Yas, 1 knows thet pretty hat 0’ hers.

“ It are ther leetle gal, an’ she are alone.”

He fairly capered with delight at this discov-
ery, and then kept his eye upon the coming
horsewoman.

Her pony was coming on at a long center, and
she sat upright in her saddle, her face pale, yet
fearlem.

Turning from the direct trail she came on
toward the timber, bringing her pony down to
a walk as she neared the spot of her rendezvous
with the desperado. ,

“ Waal, leetle gal, yer is gamer than a hungry
wolf I” cried Bad Ben, as she rode into the timr
bet and drew rein near the spring.

“ And on are as vicious as a hungry wolf.

“ But do not fear you and have come to keep
my promise,” was the bold reply. -

“ Did yer keep yer promise, tho’?”

“ Am not here?”

‘I Yas.”

“Then why ask if I kept my remiss?”

“ Did yer bring ther money

“ I did.”

“ And yer old trinkets?" .

“ You see t at I wear my earrings, you have
my watch and chain, and see, here are my
rings.”

She drew off her gloves as she ks, revealing
two very pretty little hands, an upon seve
of her fin ers were rings of considerable value.

“ WEI-Bi you is a hone , an’ ef yer is engaged
ter some fine caballero, will leave you the en-
gagement ring.”

“ No, I am not engaged.”

“Will be soon, I memes, fer yer hain’t tber
kind 0’ gal thet ther ellers will let alone.”

The grl laughed lightly, and made no reply,
while t e despeme saith” .,
r “ Wall. chuck off ther rings an’ ther ear-bobs,-

fer I don‘t want fer lose no time.”

“ Take the gold first.”

“ Whar is it?”

“ In that saddle-pocket.”

The fellow ste ped to the side of her horse,
and unfastened t e flap of the saddle-packet,
and saw within a buckskin bag which was filled
with gold.

“ Thar is five hundred pesos tharl"
“ Count them yourself and see!” '

   

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

 

The man placed his hand upon the bag to
take it out, but found that it was fast in some
wag, so took both hands.

s he did so, arevolver muzzle was thrust
into his face. while the silvery voice of the
maiden said firmly:

“Bad Ben, I want you! Up with your hands
or I will trigger!” -

“ elves and coyotes! Gal, what does yer
mean?”

“ Just what I say, you villain! Up with your
hands, or you die I” ,

He glanced up into her face and saw that she
meant every word she uttered, and promptly
he raised his hands above his head.

“Clasp your hands togetherl” came the next
order.

Sullenly the desperado obeyed.

With her disengaged hand then she took a
lariat, which hung at her ' saddle-horn, and

. slipped the noose ovar his arms to the elbows,
drawing them tightly together.

Then coil after coil was wound around the
wrists and armsauntil the man was a prisoner,
and wholly at her mercy.

“Gal, is this a joke? Yer don’t mean yer is

, in yarnest’l”

“ I do, in dead earnest, as you will see.”

“ Yer has broke yer word ter me.”

“ I have not.” '

“ Yer said yer w’u’d come here an’ ‘give me
ther money an’ ther trinkets, ’cause I war so
good an’ let yer go."

“ I said no such thing.”

“ Them lips is too purty ter tell lies.”

The maiden again broke out in a silvery
laugh, but said:

“ I do not tell you a lie. I told you I would
meet you here and bring the money you de-
manded, along with my jewelry. I have done
so and hence have kept my word. But I said
nothing about letting you quietly rob me, and I
did not then intend to submit to it in silence. My

’ pistol was out of order yesterday, or I would
'hafventurned upon you then; but now I have you
as. e.

“ What. does yer intend ter do with me?’

“ Give you up to the ofiloers of the law in San
Autonio.‘

“ They’ll hang me.” .

“ Doubtless, and you deserve it.”

“ I never did nobody no harm.”

“ Oh, I know you, for I took your picture
mentally esterday, and describing you, found

, out just w 0 you are.”

‘ “ An’ who are I?"

" Bad Ben.”

“ Lordyl yer hes got me down fine, but yer
hain’t got thor heart ter see ’em hang me.”

" “ No, for I shall not go to the hanging; but
knowing of your many red deeds, I would do
Wrong to release you.

Were you but a common robber I would dis-
arm you and let you go, but now you will have
to suffer the penalty of your crimes.

“ Come, move oil! for San Antonio, and go on

_ foot, for I will lead your horse, as I fear to trust
you on his back.”

“ I’ll not stir one step, gal.”

“ You must.”

“ I says I won‘t.”

 

“ Do you wish me to kill you?” ,

“ Yes, for it are better ter die now, from a
bullet than ter go to San Antonio an’git my
neck stretched,” was the dogged reply.

The maiden was in a quandary, for what to
do she did not know.

To shoot the man she would not think of such
a thing, unless he attempted to attack her or
escape.

She knew well that he deserved death for his
many crimes, and she also knew that he would
soon be disposed of if she took him to San An-
tonic.

She would not shrink from her duty though,
and et how was she to get him there?

“ on will not go, you- say?” she suddenly
asked, as a thought flashed through her mind.

“Not a step.”

“ We shall see then.”

She made a noose in the end of the lariat she
held, and threw it about his body.

Then she made it fast to the saddle-horn and
said:

“ Come, Mischief. you will have to drag this
gentleman to San Antonio and I will ride his
horse.”

She sprung from her saddle as she spoke and
approaching the splendid animal of the despe-
rado, pulled up the lariat-stake and leaped into
the saddle.

“Come, Mischief,” she called out to her horse
and the pony, well;trained and obedient, walked
toward her.

From side to side Bad Ben bounded, but the
mustang moved on after its retty mistress,
pulling the rnflian along .in spite of his fierce
struggles, while the maiden, pistol in hand,
rode in advance, a beautiful guard over a par-
ticularly ugly human.

C dAPTER III.
DEAD snor DANDY, THE scour.

THE violent struggles of the desperado to free
himself, and to hang back from going to San
Antonio, could not last long, as the maiden cap-
tor of the villain well knew.

But she was unprepared to see him, when his
stren th failed, suddenly throw himself at full
length upon the prairie and allow the pony to
drag him. .

“ If I allow my heart to soften toward him,
he will give me more trouble, so I‘ll let Mischief
drag him awhile, and he’ll soon get tired of it,”
she said to herself.

But just then she saw a horseman coming to»
ward her at a rapid gallop.

Quickly she halted, calling to her pony to do
the same, while she raised the rifle o the pris-
oner, and which was hanging to the saddle-horn,
not knowing but that she might have to face a-
toe.

The appearance of the horseman was assur-
ing. however.

He was mounted upon a jetblack steed, that
came on at a swinging lope, with arched neck
and graceful carriage that seemed neither to
mind the weight he bore, or the distance be had
traveled.

-His saddle and bridle were of Mexican make,
and were very rich in workmanship, being he-
spangled with silver pesos, and buckles.

\

 

 

 

i

' :7:

Dead-Shot bandy's Double. _\ 5

 

The rider was dressed in the Mexican garb,
and an elegant suit it was, excepting that he
wore his. pants stuck in high and handsome
cavalry bouts, the heels of which were armed
with massive gold spurs.

About his waist and half hidden by his short

' velvet gadget, was a sash in which were a pair

of revo vers, and at his back hunga. repeating
rifle, and to the saddle—horn a. lariat.

The face of the horseman was certainly very
fascinating, darkly bronzed in complexion, with
large eyes, most expressive, and n. regularity of
features that was almost feminine.

His hair fell in clusterin curls upon his
broad shoulders, gauntlet gives covered his
hands, and a broad-brimmed sombrero, em~
hroidered in gold, and encircled with a band of
links of the same precious metal sat jauntin
upon his head.

Raising his sombrero as he approached, he
gazed with some surprise upon the maiden and
her prisoner, and said politely, and in a rich
voice:

“ Can I aid you, senorita? for you have a very

I unruly customer there.”

“ Thank you, senor, I shall esteem it a favor
as I confess he is more than I can manage.”

“ It does not look so, as he appears to be your
prisoner.” ‘

“ Yes, I captured him a while ago,” and the
maiden laughingly told the story of her adven-
ture the day before and her determination to
capture the wretch. '

“Ah! you say that he is known as Bad,

Ben?"

“ Yes, senor." '

‘1‘ Ifrecognize him, now that I get a look at his
ug y ace.

“ Yes, an’ I knows you too, Dead Shot Dandy

' ther scout,” growled the prisoner.

I “ Then you know that you will have toobey,
for I will stand no trifling.

“ Now, senorita, what are your orders?"

“ I wish the man to get up and go with me to
San Antonio." ,

“‘ He will do it of course.”

“ In courso I won’t ” was the sullen reply.

“ Permit me to ask on to ride your horse,
and I will (place him on is.”

The mai en sprung to the ground, and held
the rein of the desperado’s horse, while the
handsome man whom Bad Ben called Dead
Shot Dandy, raised that Worthy in his strong
arms, as though he had been a child, and threw
him across his saddle. .

, A lariat then bound him firmly to the saddle,
and iving the bridle-rein of the animal to the

'ma en, he said pleasantly:

“ There is your prisoner, senorita, and I think
you will have no more trouble with him."
“ I thank you, sir,” and the young girl vault-

' ed into her saddle. while the scout also mounted

and rode by her side on toward San Antonio.

CHAPTER IV.
THE scour’s DAUGHTER.
TEE sun was fast setting as the maiden, her
risoner and her escort, rode into the Plaza. of
an Antonio. ‘ -
Hercomingasshe did created greet excite-

} Latent, forsho was known to many of the citi-

1 ' .

 

zens, as a dashing, daring girl, who preferred to
ride over the prairies to moping in the hacienda
where she lived.

Bad Ben, the desperado, was also known, and
many had been the efforts to capture him, es-
pecially since some deadly work of which he
had lately been guilty.

' A reward for his body, dead or alive, had
been offered, and this had stimulated a. number
of brave men to go on the hunt for him.

Now he had been captured by a. girl, and all
listened breathlessly while she set upon her
porse telling her story to the officers of the

aw. ~

“ You are entitled to the reward, senorita,”
said the marshal. .

“ I do not care for the reward, and in fact
would not accept it, so leave it in your hands to
divide among the very poor people 01 the town,”
was the answer of the maiden.

“ You are most generous, senorita, but you
will at least accept the horse of Bad Ben, for he
is a superb animal,” ur ed the marshal.

“ Thank you, senor, will take the horse, and
if you will unsaddle him I will lead him to my,
home.”

“ Permit me to do that much for you,” said the
scout, and he seizod the bridle-rein of thedesper-
ado’s horse, and rode ed with the maiden, amid
wild Grim to hang the prisoner.

“ They will give him no trial, I fear,” said the
young girl, addressing the scout, as thetwo rode
away together and the yells of the infuriated
crowd grew wilder and Wilder.

“ I do not think that he deserves trial—.596
they have seized him by force from the marshal,
and are going to hang himl”

“ Oh, this is terrible!

“ Come, senor, let us ride on and get beyond
hearing of their voices.”

She urged her poni into a rapid run as she
spoke, and the scout ept close to her side, the
despel'ado’s horse running along without any
trouble, as though glad of the change of owners. ‘

“ There is my home, and, after your kindness
to me, I must ask you in, and Don Sebastian
Brent will welcome you, for I reside in his fam-
ily,” and she pointed to a handsome hacienda
just beyond the limits of the town. ’

“ No, thank you; I have a duty to perform
which admits of no delay. I

“ But another time I ho to have the honor
of meeting you senorita.’

“ I will be glad to see you, senor, whenever
you can call."

“Perhaps you can tell me of the one I seek.
She is at the convent, I believe.”

“ Yes, if you seek any one there I can tell you
of her, for only a few months ago I left the con-
vent. having completed my studies, and Don Se-
bastian Brent, an old friend of my father, made
me a member of his famil . -

“What is the name, p ease, of the lady you
would find?"

“ Senorita Lulu Dale.”

“Indeed! Then, senor. you need go no lur-
her to find her, for I amsbulu Dale.” \

“ You surprise me, and give me pleasure too,
for I came hither to seek you senorita.” r

“ Ah! sir, you speak in such a serious tone I
fear you bring me ill-tidings.

 

Dead-Shot Dandy's Double. .

 

“Speak, I implore you! Do you come from
my father?”

“I do, lady, come on his account," was the
res use.

‘ Has harm befallen him?” and raining in her
horse, she gazed into the face of the man before
her with earnest entreaty.

“Senorita Dale, 1 am the bearer of sad tid-
ings for on."

‘Spea'! what of my father, for he is all I
have in the world to hear sad tidings from.”

“ Your father, senori‘ta, is dead.”

" Dead! Oh, Mary, Mother, have mercy
upon me I”

As the prayer broke from the white lips, the
beautiful head was bent forward and rested in
the hands, while the poor girl burst into tears.

The scout inade no effort to check her grief,
but sat in silence gazing upon her.

After a few minutes she raised her head, and
said earnestly:

“ Ah, sir, do not think me a child not to con-
, trol myself; but I have gone each afternoon for

a Week to meet my father, whom I expected

about this time.

“ Long years ago, when my poor mother died,
he placed me at the convent, and twice each
year has he visited me, and a dear, generous

ather has he been to me.

“ Now you tell me that he is dead, and that I
must look for him no more.”

“Yes, senorita, your father met his death at
the hands of a foe. ’

“Killed?” gasped the young girl.

“ Yes, he was shot down while he was en-
gaged in his duties as a scout at the fort.”

‘ Hi9 duties as a scout, senor?”

“ Yes, senorita.” .

“ Is there not some mistake?”

" None.”

“ My father, senor, was a ranchero.”

“‘ Your father was William Dale, was he
not?"

“ Such was his name."

“ He was an American?”

H Yes.”

“And married your mother in Mexico, for
she was the daughter of a Mexican Don?”

“ Yes, senor.” '

“Then there is no mistake, for vonr father
was not a ranchero, but a scout at Fort Blank,
and there he was known as Bronze Bill.”

“ Indeed! why senor, my father led me to

_ believe that he had a small cattle-ranch long
miles from here.”

“ Perhaps he did so, senorita, to keep you
from anxiety, knowing that you would fear for
him in leading the dangerous life of a scout.”

“ Perhaps so, senor,” said Lulu Dale in a
dazed kind of a way.

“ Such was doubtless the case; but a scout he
certainly was, and he served under me at Fort
Blank, where I am chief of scouts.

“ Dying he left his money in my keeping to
give to you, and I have come to fulfill my
pledge to him, and now turn over to you this
packs of hills, which contains something over
three t ousand dollars, as you will see by count”
in? the money. ” -

‘Senor there is some strange mystery in all
that you 11 me.”

 

“ Not in the least, senorita.

“ Your father was a scout, and the money
which he has saved up he sends on here.

“ It was all that he had, and will ask you to
allow me to go on with you to the hacienda and
receive from you a receipt for it.”

“ Certainly, senor; butohl what a bitter blow ‘
you have given me.”

She moved on once more toward her home,
and the scoutentered with her and again told to
the inmates of the hacienda the sad story which
he had made knoWn to the maiden.

“ Thesenor speaks the truth, Lulu, your father
was a scout, but, for some reason wished the se-
cret kept from on, and I never told you that he
was not a ranc new as he pretended to be,” said
Don Sebastian Brent.

“I cannot understand it all," said Lulu.

“ Well, my poor child, do not worry about it,
and remember now that I am to be your fa-
ther,” said the kind—hearted ranchero, and then
he beg ed the scout to become his guest.

But ead Shot Dandy declined, saying that
he was forced to return in all haste to the fort,
and receiving from Lulu a receipt for the
money paid her, he departed from the hacienda,
and rode back to San Antonio.

CHAPTER V.
'rmt MYSTERY DEEPENB.

IT was the day after the capture of Bad Ben,
the desperado, by Lulu Dale, and the excite-
ment had not yet died away in San Antonio,
for it was a most extraordinary occurrence to
have a youn girl bring in a desperate man as a
prisoner, an without aid. '

The story had gone from lip to lip, until Lulu
Dale was a. heroine, and the authorities had
called upon her in a body to thank her for her
daring work, and to offer the reward due her.

She modestly heard their words of praise and
firmly refused the reward, telling them, as
upon the day before, to distribute the sum
among the poor.

Bad Ben, once he got into the hands of his
fees, was given little time for repentance, for a
lariat was put around his neck, and when Dead
Shot Dandy crossed the Plaza, after leaving the
Brent Hacienda, he found the desperado swing-
ing in mid-air, and dead. '

A word to his horse, and the animal bounded‘
forward; and as he passed the tree, thirty feet
away, the scout raised his revolver, a flash il— ‘
lumined the gathering gloom, the report follow-
ed. the lariat was severed, and with a. heavy
thud the body struck the earth. .

Wild hurrahs and braves rung out from the
crowd, at this sample of deadly marksmanship.

Raising his broad sombrero, the scout rode on
and disa peered from sight across the Plaza.

Latet at night a small party rode into the .
Plaza and halted at the main hotel of the town.

There was an oflicer in the full uniform of
the United States Army, several cavalrynien,
and an ambulance. ‘

Procurlng quarters at the hotel, the ofllcer
sought rest, avoiding the crowds that still lin-
gered in the saloon.

But the next morning after» an early break-
fast, he started of! for the convent, and after

 

 

 

'V V mone

 

DeadShot Dandy’s Double. 7

 

making some in uiries there of the mother
superior, returne to the hotel and spent an
hour engaged in business with some merchants
in the town.

Then be mounted his horse and rode away in
the direction of the Brent Hacienda.

Don Sebastien was seated upon his veranda
enjoying a cigar and saw the omoer approach-

ing.
“Ah! I am to have _a.v guest; but I do not
‘ recognize him,” he said, nsmg to greet his visi-

r.

“ Is this Don Sebastian Brent?” politely asked
the soldier.

“Yes, Senor."

“ My name is Edgar Leighton, senor, and I
am paymaster at Fort Blank, and visit your
house to see alady who I learn is your guest.”

“Whatever your motive in coming, Mr.
Leighton, you are welcome,” said the hospitable
rauchero.

“Thank you senor; but I bring sad tidings
for Miss Lulu ale, as she is the one to whom I
referred.”

“Yes, now my adopted daughter, since we
learned yesterday of her poor father’s death.”

-“ Ah! she is aware than that her lather is
dead?” a;

“Yes, Mr. Leighton, the sad news has been
told her.”

“ I am glad that I have not the painful task
of making it known to her, Don Sebastian. for
1iEdis a. painful thing indeed to have to tell ill-

in s.

“ ut may I ask to see her? for I have to pay
into her hands some money left her by her
father.”

“ Indeed? this will be a surprise for she was
paid yesterday three thousand and odd dollars,
left her by her father."

“ This is remarkable, sir, for I knew not that
Dale left more money than I hold of his."

“Well Lulu is in luck, that is certain; but
here she is.”

, Just then the maiden came out upon the ve-
 randa.

Her face was pale and her eyes red from
weeping; but she was calm, and bowsd low at
this: introduction of Don Sebastian to the young
0 oer.

“ Lulu, Mr. Leighton tells me that he has come
to pa to you some money left by your father,”
said he don.

Lulu looked surprised, but said:

“Indeed, sir, I received yesterday a. sum of
from a gentleman who said it was the
lube tanee left me by my poor father."

80 Don Sebastian has told me; but may I
ask the name of the Iperson!”

“ Certainly; it is like Decatur.”

“Duke Decatur l” exclaimed the oflieer.

“ So he told me; but I heard him called yes—
terda Dead Shot Dandy:

_, “ al this is remar _ble, Miss Dale, and
’ when I tell you all you Will not wonder at my
astonishment.” ’ ‘ ,

“0h, sir! what mystery I: this surrounding
my poor father’s death?” cried Lulu, With
quivering voice, while Don Sebastian looked
anxious, as though dreading evil. '

“I will tell you all that I know, Miss Dale,

 

and then we may together be abletoclear up
the mystery,” answered the officer.

“ Do 50, I beg you,” and Lulu and Don Sebas-
tian waited most anxiously for the officer’s
story.

CHAPTER VI.
THE MYs'rnnIOUS scour.

“ LET me begin my story, Miss Dale, by tell-
ing you that the three years that I have been
at Fort Blank, I have known your father as
one of the best scouts in the command, and also
a hunter for the post, than whom no one was able
to bring in better game, and in larger quantities
than he did.

“ He was a little peculiar in his way 1’00, and
I remember that twice each year he asked for a.
couple of weeks’ leave, and where he went noone
knew.”

“ That was when he came to see me, while I
was at the convent,” said Lulu.

“ Little over a year agorthere came tothe post
a man of striking appearance, fascinating man-
ners, and the best shot I ever saw, while he was
also a dandy in his dress almost.

"He joined the scouts‘ force, and in a short
time became their chief, and the boys gave him
the name of Dead Shot Dandy on account of his
fancy attire and deadly aim, though hecalled
himself Duke Decatur.

“ Etery one liked him, and no one dreamed
wrong of him, though all felt that there was
some mystery hanging over a man who, re-
fined, educated, and apparently we -su . lied
with money, could be content to live the e of
a. scout.

' “ Sarge VLka ago ygur father W313 02:331-
mg, an w en gomg o a. in e c
know as Padi-e’s Rock—" Spo

“ Yes, I know the place, and it took its name
from the fact that a priest was murdered there
some ears ago,” said Don Sebastian.

“ es sir; that is the place, and there Bronze
Bill, as him Lulu’s father was known tothemen,
saw Deadfihot Dandy, engaged in conversation
with a horseman supposed to be one of the band
of Rio Grande Marauders.

“ He accused him of talking to the Marauder,
and was instantly shot for his words.”

“ Oh, in poor father!” .

“ Dead hot then rode away, believ that
our father was dead, and another scout, :3
y name, passed Padre’s‘ Rock, and disco '

the dying man."

“ My father!"

“ Yes, Miss Dale.

“ He at once made him as comfortable as he
could and rode at full speed to the tort, return-
ing with an ambulance and surgeon, and Cap-
tain Cecil Lorne.

“ To this ofiicer Brenna Bill made hisdying
confession of who had shot him, and gave into
his hands the power to draw the money due
him, exacting from Captain Lorne a promise to
deliver to you-in person your inheritance, with
the blessing he left with it.”

“ And Captain Lorne found the talk too irko
some, so im upon you the painful duty!“

“Ah, no, im Dale, for he is not the manta
n loot a trust.

‘ But he was severely wounded noon attain

 

8

Dead-Shot bandy's Double.

 

a light with Indians, and, as duty called me to

San Antonio, he asked me to act for him.”

“ I humbly crave his pardon,” frankly said
Lulu. and the officer continued:

“The strangest part of all this was just as we
had all decided that Dead Shot Danny was in-
deed a traitor. he arrived at the fort accompa-
nied by Miss Marie Du Barry, whose life he had
just saved from a drove of wild mustangs

‘ which her own wild animal she was riding had
run away with her to join.

“ And more, there was a youth with him, the
sole survivor of atrain which had been made
up of his own famil , and was going West.

“Their camp he been attacked by the Ma—
rauders of the Rio Grande, and all slain, the
boy escaping through being absent at the time
searching for his ny that had strayed.

“ A sister of r e boy was also believed to
have been made captive by the Marauders, as
her body could not be found among the other
dead; but afterward all believed that she had
fled from the sickening scene out upon the

rairies and perished, or been killed by wild

easts.”

“ Poor, Poor, girl," said Lulu, touched by the
sari fate o the unfortunate maiden.

“ The boy,” continued Edgar Leighton, “ was
brought by the scout, Dead Shot, to the post,
and sing a superb cometist, young as he was,

Clolonel Du Barry made him the regimental bu-
g er.

“ By his story, and that of Dead Shot Dan-
dy, had he been the slayer of your father, at
Pedro’s Rock, it would have been next to im-
possible for him to have found the boy at the
time he did.”

“ Was it possible, sirl",

“ Yes, Miss Dale, but only with a superb
horse, and some desperate reason for riding
there.”

“ The Boy Bugler stated to the court-martial
that the horse of the scout arrived at the scene
of the massacre comparatively fresh, and this
saved him upon the plea of mistaken identity,

* upon'the part of your father.”

“And the scout Monte, who saw him near
Pedro‘s Rock?" asked Lulu.

“ He was supposed to have been also mis-
taken.” ‘

“ It does not seem possible that two such men
as Dead Shot Dandy can be upon the Texas

' prairies, for he certainly is a remarkable looking
personage,” said Lulu.

“I am willing to admit now, Miss Dale, that
Dead Shot is the only one.

“ But I did not believe him guilt , and had an
idea that Monte swore against h mbecause he
did not like him, and wished to step into his
shoes as chief of scouts. v '

, “ After his release he was deprived of his

rank, and Monte received it, and yet he did
such splendid service against the Indians that
ever one felt that he had been wronged.

‘-‘ heather day he led the command against
the red-skins, and after a signal victory for the
troops, Dead Shot could nowhere be found, and
we behaved him to be a risoner.

“His best friend was enito, the Boy Bugler,’
andAhe, with Captain Lorne and Keno Kit, a
scout, started to search for Dead Shot, and gt .

i» '

 

was then that the captain was Wounded and the
trio were forced to return in all haste to the
fort.

“Then I started for San Antonio, and, along
with the money I had for you, I had some Gov-
ernment funds, and other sums for purchases for
various parties at the post.

“ When going into camp at noon, day before
yesterday, we were attacked by a hand of Ma- '
renders.

“ Resistance was useless, and I had to surren-
der all to the robber leader, who knew just what
I had in money.

“ I begged him to spare the sum I held in
trust for you, and his strange reply was to the
effect that he would rob me of it, but not you. ;

“ Now I can understand his words, for he has
given you the money.”

“ I received the money
Shot Dandy, sir.”

“ And w on the Marauders, who were masked,
rode away, a limb of a tree, knocked the som-
brero of the leader from his head.

“ With it went the mask, and I recognized
Dead Shot Dandy as the Marauder chief ! ”

“This is startling,” exclaimed Don Sebastian,
while Lulu went on then to tell the paymaster
just how she had met Dead Shot Dandy and the
aid he had rendered her. "

“ And he has paid to you the money?"

“ He has.”

“ Yet I hold the sum for you.”

“How so, air, when you were robbed of it?”

The officer’s face flushed. while he answered:

“ I could not think of allowing you to be the
sufi'erer, Miss Dale, through my being robbed,
so I drew 'on my own account this morning,
through some merchants in San Antonio, to pay
it to you.”

“ You are a. noble man, Mr. Leighton, and I
thank you most warmly.

“ But the man, from all accounts, who killed
my father, has become consciencestricken, and,
after robbing you of my inheritance, has paid it
to me, so I will release you b giving you a re-
ceipt in full for the sum you old for me, and I
appreciate all you have done to serve me."

“ And in return, Miss Dale, I will say that, as _
we now know this traitor scout in his true col-

from the scout, Dead

'ors, I will do all in my power to brinr him to

justice for the crimes he has committed."

After a few words more upon the subject, the
paymaster arose to depart; but Don Sebastian
insisted upon detaining him as his guest while
he remained in San Antonio, and the two gentle.
men rode into town together, for Edgar high.
ton had some business to attend to.

Arriving at the Plaza, they heard the story of
the scout’s shot that cut Bad Ben’s body down,
and at once men were sent through the town in
search of the daring man.

But the day passed away and not one person
could report havmg seenthe scout after he rode
away from the Plaza, and whither he had gene
was a mystery which no one could solve.

CHAPTER VII.
run common

Wrraits' camp of hangers-on,sutler stores,
and rendezvous of treppers, hunters and train-

 

 

 

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Vt???» 4..

‘ vqfiwM‘x-Wtem‘sm

Dead-Shot Dandy’a Double. 9

 

men, outside of its own troops, Fort Blank was
quite an important post on the Texas border.

Its destinies were ruled by Colonel Du Barry,
agenial gentleman and a gallant soldier, and
the idol of the commander’s heart was Marie,
his beautiful daughter, who owed her life on
two occasions to Dead Shot Dandy, the one-
time chief of scouts, but who had turned out to
be a traitor, it was said, to those who had re-
vered and trusted him.

There were officers at the fort besides the
colonel, who had their families with them, and
thus quite a little social gathering was there.

Then there was the andsome, brave, rich
young soldier, Captain Cecil Lorne, upon whom
the colonel had his eye as a hoped-for son-in—
law, but who yet seemed not to have made any
great impression upon Mario Du Barry’s heart,
nor, in fact, did he appear to be in love with
her, though the two were stench friends.

When trouble came upon Dead Shot Dandy
both Cecil Lorne and Marie Du Barry remained
his friends, and the maiden had warned him of
the charges against him when she had been
saved by him from the wild herd of mustangs,
and urged him not to o to the fort.

But he had not hoe ed her warning, and the
result of his trial, for the murder of Bronze Bill,
the reader has heard from the lips of the pay-
master.

Then there was at the fort a scout whose
name no one knew. other than that be answered
to the. rather peculiar cognomen of Keno Kit.

No,better scout was on the prairies, and no
truer friend to Dead Shot Dandy, and he had
boldly defended him against the slurs of Monte,
the man who had stepped into the shoes of the
alleged slayer of Bronze Bill.

This Monte was a superb-looking man, with
fiery black eyes, long raven hair and a form of
magnificent physique.

In fact he was very much like Dead Shot
Dandy in form, though a person gazing into the
face of each to select a man of no 1 soul, would
have chosen the one who was afterward proven
a traitor to the Government he served.

There was one other at the fort who needs
more than a passing notice, and that is the boy
whom Dead Shot had found at the scene of the
massacre of all he had loved.

The 'scout was seeking a clump of timberyto
camp for the night, when upon his ears burst
the notes of a bugle.

He at once thought theta company of cavalry
was encamped there; but soon the notes ran

into melody after melody, played with a pathos -

and skill that held the scout spellbound.
At last they ceased. and there, amon his

the desolate
And that Boy Bugler would hear no word
against his friend, and, in spite of all reports,
remained true in his belief of his innocence.
When Dead Shot was supposed to he a pris-
oner to the red-skins, Benito, the Boy Bugler,

‘ dead,*pouningoforth his grief in music, he ound
y.

, Keno Kit and Captain Cecil Lorne had boldly
- gins into the Indian country to try and rescue

m, and the result was that they failed to find

him, and the captain came back severely wound-
in the arm.

Upon that expedition Benito had greatly dis.

 

tinguished himself, and became a hero “the
fort; but he longed to have his friend Dead
Shot return, so that he might learn how his
protege was behaving, for he still believed, as
did also Keno Kit, that the scout would return.

Then it was that Edgar Lei hton started upon
his trip to San Antonio, and eno Kit was his
guide.

And Keno Kit it was whom the paymaster
sent back to the fort with the news of the rob-
bery by the Marauders. while he continued on
to the farm, as the reader knows.

Like a bombshell fell the tidings upon all,
when Keno Kit told who it was that had said he
was Captain Alvarez, thechief of the Marauders,
and was discovered, by the knocking off of his
sombrero and mask, to be none other than Dead
Shot Dandy.

Closely had the colonel questioned Keno Kit
upon the subject, and all he could say was:

“ My eyes hain’t wrong, col’nel, an’ therefore
I b’lieve thet it war Dead Shot, fer I seen him.”

“ I will send the escort that Mr. Leighton
asks, to meet him, Keno Kit, and Monte will
go, so you can rest after your hard ride,” said
the colonel.

“ I hain’t tired, but I is hurt, fer I w'u’dn‘t
hev believed it at I hadn’t seen him,” said Keno
Kit, and he went straight to Dead Shot Dandy’s
cabin to find Benito, for the Boy Bugler and the
scout lived together.

Benito had already heard the news and was
pacing to and fro with pale, anxious face.

“Come in, Keno Kit, and tell me with your
own lips if you saw what the soldiers say you
did,” said the boy, nervously.

He was a handsome, well~formed be of fit-
teen, with fearless eye, a resolute mout , and a
manner that was very attractive.

“ Leetle pard, does yer ’member when I were
playin’ keerds with Monte a bullet came 11 ‘ ‘
inter his cabing an’ grazed his cheek?” as
Keno Kit.

|| Yes.”

“ They said it were fired by Dead Shot."

“ So they did.”

“ Waal, altho’ his were ther only ride that
bullet w’u’d fit, I said it were a darned slander
ag’in’ him.” ‘ .

“ I know that you did, Keno Kit, and it
was.”

“ And yer ’members when I went with Atlanta
an’ some 0‘ ther boys on a. scout a short while

) _
a'g‘c‘flYeai.”

“Thar were a shot fired at Monte while he
were lightin’ a cigar with a match?"

i;‘]Yes;’ the bullet cut the cigar from between
h i .

“ It did, pard Beeneeto, an’ all as saw ther
flash 0’ ther rifle said it was Dead Shot."

‘ es

“ I seen him, too, but when he said he hadn’t
shouted ther shot I believed him.”

“ Well, Keno Kitl"

“ Ag’in, yer ’members when he oomed inter
ther fort one night an’ told ther col’nel that he
had kills two Marauders, an’ get some things oil!
of ’em sich as jew‘ry au’ sich, which he said were
yourn fer they had took it from yer campther
night o’thor memos. yew knom them two

 

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

 

/ dead bodies he says he left thar c’u‘dn’t he
found?”

fl True.”

“ And Monte said that he hed been one o' ther
band as robbed yer camp, an’ got conscience—
struck an’ give u ther things, tellin’ a lie about
killin’ ther two arauders?”

H Yes.”

“ Waal, all these thing; I didn't believe, leetle
paid, ag’in’ Dead Shot andy; but now comes
ther tug 0’ war."

“ Well, Kit?” anxiously asked the boy.

“ Leetle pard, I seen him with my own. eyes.”

“ You mean when Paymaster Leighton was
robbed?”

u Yas'”

“ Might you not have been mistaken, Kit!"

“ Waal, might hev been, but I’d sw‘ar it
were Dead Shot Dandy.”

“ Ah, me! this is terrible, Keno Kit. and looks
bad for r Dead Shot.

“ But believe he is innocent,” firmly said the

y.

“ I’m with yer, leetle fiard, er yer says so;
but I has hed enough ter s also up my friendship
a leetle.

“ till, I’ll wait fer more afore I decides ag’in’
Dandy.”

“ Blew you. Kit, for those words " and the

{33:3 grasped the hand of the scout, while he

“ You are the only real pard I have in camp,

‘ now that Dead Shot has gone; but we’ll be true

to him, won’t we, until we know that all is true
that they say of him.”

“ Yes. leetle pard, we’ll be true, nn’ thar is
Keno Kit's grip on it, Boy Boogler, an’ don’t
yer fergit it.‘ ,

Thus was the compact formed between the
Boy Bugler and his pard, Keno Kit.

CHAPTER VIII.
ran RETURN.

Sour. days after the compact was formed be-
tween Benito and Keno Kit, a cavalcade arrived
at the tort escortin an ambulance, in which
were several wound men.

It was the' return of Paymaster Leighton, and
the party sent by Colonel Du Barry to act as a
gun

The paymacter at once sought the com-
mandant, and the report he had to make was
soon known over the tort.

It was to the effect that at night, when en-
camped. a party of horsemen had dashed into
their midst, killing and wounding ri ht and
left, and the ambulance, loaded with t e valu-

\. able urchases of the paymaster had been
robb of all it contained.

The mounted robbers were none other than
the Marauders of the Rio Grande, and all of
them were masked with the exception of their
leader.

His face was not hidden, and every trooper
and scout whose Eyes fell u in him had at once
recognized Dead hot Dan y.

Such was the report the pa master had to
make of his return march from Antonio.

And met-9,136 had @190 W 661! that he had

 

seen Lulu Dale, the scout’s daughter and how
Dead Shot Dandy had paid to her the money
left b her father. ..

“ at man is a wonder to me, Lorne,” said
Colonel Du Barry, addressing his favorite cap-
tain, who was recovering rapidly from his
wound.

“To me, also, sir. if he is really the traitor
all claim him to be, but iet, I must confess
I do”not yet believe all I ave heard against
him.

“ But Leighton could not be mistaken,
surely." I

“ One would not think so, sir: but I still lean

_ toward believing in Dead Shot as a square

man.”

“ And so does my daughter Marie, while that
gallant Boy Bugler swears by him, and that it
is a case of mistaken identity."

“ And so does Keno Kit, colonel, and he saw
this robber chief."

“True, and I wish the mystery was solved;
but. as it is, now that the Marauder captain, he
he Dead Shot Dandy or not, has twice attacked
a Government train, it is my duty to act
promptly, and I shall send Lieutenant Lau-
caster at once upon his trail."

“ If Lancaster is unable to catch him, colonel,
I will try to luck as soon as I can take to the
saddle, an then if we find Dead Shot the
guilt man they claim, he will ban for it.f’

“ ssuredly— Ha! what noise is that in the
fort?” .

The colonel stepped quickly to the Window as
he spoke, and from whence he could gain a View
of the massive entrance to the fort.

He saw Lieutenant Lancaster and a file of
men standing ‘ust inside the stoclmde, anda
number of sol iers had gathered around, as
though moved by some great excitement.

Then his eyes ell upon the cause of all this
seeming confusion, and he beheld a horseman
approaching the stockade. _

The one whom he saw was riding leisurely
along, and was wholly unaware of the excite.
ment in the stockade.

“Great Heaven! it isDead Shoti” cried Col-
onel Du Barry excitedly.

“No.‘ it cannot be," was the answer of Cecil
Lorne, who was considerably excited.

1‘ Yes, and he is riding as coolly toward the
fort as though we were ready to receive him
with open arms. _

“But Lancaster is ready With a file of men
to {nit him in irons immediately upon his arri-
va .

A few minutes afterward, Dead Shot Dandy
entered the stockade. .

His'hlach horse seemed to havebeen driven
hard, and his face was pale and somewhat hag-
gard, while his usually elegant attire,was blood-
atained and dirt—soiled.

But he had the same fearless. defiant look, ,
and gazed upon the soldiers filing upon each side
of him with considerable su rise.

“ What does this mean, ‘eutenant Lancas-
ter?" be stemly asked.

“ It means, Decatur. that you are under ar-
rest,” was the reply of the young ofllcor.

“ Ah! what crime has been trumped up
against me new?"

 

 

 

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

1’:

 

“ That you will soon know, sir; but now I
demand the surrender of your belt of arms."

“ Certainly,” and they were handed over
without a word.

“Now, sir, dismount.”

The scout obeyed in silence.

“ Hold out your hands lease.”

This order was also 0 ed, and irons were
clasped upon the wrists, w ile the face of the
prisoner grew white as that of a. corpse.

“ Sergeant, lead that man to the guard-house,
and see that he is held secure.”

The sergeant saluted, and Dead Shot Dandy
was marched away between the double file of
soldiers.

CHAPTER IX.
THE DRUM-HEAD COURT-MmTIAL.

IT was now evident that whatever senti—
mental feelings were entertained by Ben to, the
Boy Bugler, Keno Kit and several others in
regard to believing in the innocence of Dead
Shot Dandy, against all facts, they were not
felt by those before whom he was to appear as
a prisoner, charged with murder and robbery.

n fact many could understand wh it was
that so many times the Marauders ha moved
just at the right time to capture valuable
trains, and always been able to avoid the
troops.

Some one had been suspected of giving in-
foigmation to them, but who, no one could find
on .

That a spy was in the camp was very evi-
dent, yet ‘no one had suspected Duke Decatur
the Dead Shot Dandy, of: being that spy, until
the dying confession of Bronze Bill brought him
before their eyes as his murderer.

In trying a man thus accused no time was to
be lost, and a drum~head court-martial was at
once ordered for the following day.

The hour of trial came round and the prisoner
was led before his accusers.

He was pale, yet calm, and seemed not at all
afraid of the fate which he felt must be his,
from all the charges against him.

The first witness called was Captain Lorne,
who went over the testimony given upon the
former trial, regarding the dying confession
made to him by more Bill (William Dale) who
had said that he was ruthlesst shot down by
Dead Shot Dandy.

Then followed those who had witnesscd the
shot fired into the cabin of Monte, the chief of
the scout and the bullet was produced.

. It fltt exactly the rifle of Dead Shot, and
no other weapon in the fort.

Then too the timber from whence it had been
fired was too far OR for any other rifle to risk a
shot that far.

Next came the witnesses of the shot fired at
Monte, and knocking away his cigar, and all
who saw the horseman,lighted u b the dis-
charge ot the rifle for an instant, said at it was
Dead Shot Dandy.

No, there was one who said:
~ “ It hed ther look 0’ Dead Shot, I admits, but
I might be mistaken, for with all ther folksos
in ther yarth, it w’u‘d be strange at some of ’em
. didn’t look 'lst like t’others.”

This was the lips of Keno Kit.

 

Then followsd Monte as a. witness, and he
plainly asserted that he had dug the bullet out
of the adobe wall of his cabin, where it was
fired through the open door, and that he felt
convinced that Dead Shot Dandy had fired it.

He also went on to prove that where Dead
Shot Dandy had said that he had killed two
Marauders ID the timber and found upon them
the things taken from the Dewhurst family
which had been massacred, that the bodiesof
the alleged slain men could nowhere be found.

Also, Monte asserted that be had met Dead
Shot Dandy near Padre’s Rock the evening on
Which Bronze Bill had been shot, and half an
hour afterward had found the man dying.

Then came Lieutenant Edgar Leighton, the
paymaster, and in a few straightforward words
he told his story of the robbery of himself, and
the knocking off of the hat and mask which
revealed who the leader was that called himself
Captain Alvarez, the Marauder.

The story of his visit to San Antonio and
what had followed there, the aiding of Lulu
Dale in carrying in her prisoner by Dead Shot,
his giving her the very money which be ex-
amined and knew to have been that which he
had been robbed of, and afterward his dashing
upon their cams upon the return to the fort,
were all told in istinct tones that shOWed the
paymaster's confidence in the prisoner’s guilt.

“ Was the prisnnc-r masked in his second at-
tack upon you?” asked Colonel Du Barry.

“ He was not, sir, though his men were.”

“Did you hear him speak on that occa-
sion?"

“ I did, sir.”

“You know that the prisoner has a ringing
voice of peculiar tone?” '

“ Yes, sir."

“ How did the voice of the Marauders’ leader
strike you as compared with the risoner’s?”

“ 1 had not thought of that, Co one! Du Barry
but now I remember that the voice of De
Shot then was deeper than ordinarily."

Then Keno Kit was recalled and told his
stor in his quaint way, adding:

“ don't do no sw’arin’ that it were Dead
Shot; but at it wasn’t then he were as much
like him as twin peas, tho’ I do new remembers
the’r voices were dif’rent.”

All of the other scouts and soldiers examined
told the same story, that Dead Shot was the man
who had attacked them at the head of the Ma-

renders.

With all of this damning testimony, it seemed
that the prisoner had not the show of a chance
for life.

“ But he was asked by Colonel Du Barry:

“ Now, Duke Decatur, what have you to say
against these charges?”

“ I am not guilty, sir,” was the calm reply.

“ You deny that you killed Bronze Bill?”

“ I do, sir,”

“ And that you saw Monte near Padre’s Rock
the afternoon on which the scout was killed?“

“ I did not see him there, sir, and I left him
in camp when I departed.”

“ You deny having fired the shot from the
timber that so nearly killed Monte in has
cabin?"

“ I do deny it, sir.”

 

 

 

 

 

I 12 Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

 

“You disavow having fired the shot at him
the sya’me night, when he was lighting his
ci a1-

a I never shot at him in my life, Colonel Du
Barry.”

“You assert this on oath ’l”

“ Certainly, for bad I shot to kill him, he
would not be sitting there now to lie against
me.

“ And what have you to say about the two
men you killed in the timber, as you reported?”

“That I did kill them.”

“ And found upon their bodies the things
taken from the Dewhurst family, and now in
the ossession of Benito, the Boy Bugler?”

“ did take those things from the bodies of
the two men.”

“ And what became of the dead men?"

“ That mystery I am unable to solve, sir."

“Do you also deny, prisoner, that you halted
Paymaster Leighton on the trail to San Anv
tonic?" ,

“ Emphatically I deny it, sir."

“ And that you robbed him?”

“ I did not see him, sir.”

“Also you deny having given to the daughter
of Bronze Bill the money which was taken from
Paymaster Leighton?” .

“ Never in my life, sir, did I see the daughter
of Bronze Bill."

“You also disavow having attacked and rob-
bed Paymaster Leighton upon his return to the
tort?”

“ I do, sir."

“ Then you admit the truth of not a single
char e against you?”

“ at one.”

“ This is strange, prisoner.”

“ I admit that appearances are terribly
against me, sir; but I am not guilty."

“ Where were you after the last attack upon
the Indians in the mountains?”

“I dogged their steps on their retreat, until
they sent a special force after me.

“Then I retreated, the twelve warriors pur-
suing, and in a fight with them I killed two of
their number, after which I showed them the
speed of my horso, and they turned back,
knowing how useless it was to follow me.”

“ And where did you go then?”

“I met a train whose guide had been killed,
and I led it on to the upper country.”

" And then?”

“ I started for the fort, but struck a trail
which I believed was made by the Marauders,
and scouted on it tor a day or two.”

“ And then?"

“ I returned to the fort, sir, for both my horse
and mySelf were pretty badly used up, as in the
Indian fight I received several slight flesh
wounds.”

“ And this is all you have to say?”

“All, sir. ”

“ Your word is against the testimony of many,
and those who have been your friends.”

“I know it, sir, and I do not censure but one
of them for what they have said, as I believe
abat'fihey labor under a case of mistaken iden-

U
" sue you do censure?”

“ And that one 13—”

“ Monte, the Mexican.”

Monte laughed lightly at this, and Dead Shot
continued:

“ He is my foe, and some day you will find it
out. '

“I have no more to say, sir, and am ready
for sentence.”

“And your sentence, Duke Decatur, is that
you be hanged for your crimes, at sunset, one
week from today,” impressively said Colonel
Du Barry.

The prisoner never flinched, but said in his
calm way:

“ Colonel Du Barry, I do not fear death; but
I beg of you, for the sake of the service which
you will admit- I have rendered the Govern-
ment, that you will allow me to be shot,-and
not die at the end of a rope."

“ As a common murderer he deserves hanging,"
boldly said Monte, the chief of scouts.

“Silence, sir! how dare you speak thus,”
sternly said Colonel Du Barry, turning upon
Monte with flashing eyes, while Keno Kit said:

“ Yer struck ther wrong trail that time, Pard
Monte.”

“Prisoner,” continued Colonel Du Barry, “I
change your sentence from hanging to shooting.

“You are to be led forth by a file of soldiers,
and shot, just one week from today.”

“ I thank you, Colonel Du Barry, and you will
find that I will meet death fearlessly."

The prisoner was now led away in double
irons, and taken to the log cabin which served
as a guardvbouse, where he was chained to the
floor, and left alone with his thoughts, while. a
sentinel was placed in front of the door, With
ordersto admit no one to see him Without an
order from the commandant.

CHAPTER X.
KENO KIT AND Ins BOY PAED.

“ LEETLE pard, yer heard ther sintince in the:-
case,” said Keno Kit, as he visited Benito in his
cabin, the night following the condemnation of
Dead Shot Dandy.

“ 1 did.”

” Does yer think it were squar’i"

“1 think it was intended to be ust, consider-
ing the testimony, Keno Kit; but believe that
all who testified were mistaken as to the ‘one
’ they saw being really Dead Shot”.

“ Thet idee kinder haunts my mind.

“But what is we men om‘ tor do about it?"

“ I‘ll tell you what I ntend to do about it,
Kit," said the boy abruptly. v

“ What are that?”

“ I intend to save the life of Dead Shot.”

“ ’Tain’t so easy did.”

“Are you afraid to help me in it?”

“ Does I look skeery, pard?"
H

H

“ Does I act skeei't'l”
(I 1

“ Waal, I ain’t skeert in ther least."

“ Then we can get him out.”

“ Thar must be no killin’." ’

“There shall not be, for that would only get
us into trouble and ruin all.”

“ Fact."

 

 

“ Have you any plan to suggest, KM”

j e... «WM... ‘V

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i
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F

 

 

 

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i

 

\

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

18

 

“ Thor sentinel hes ther keys 0’ his irons?"

N Yes.”

“He walks up an’ down afore ther door, an
sometimes he sits down on ther bench.”

“ So I noticed to-night."

“ Thar hain‘t no one else in ther gnard~honse
now?”

“ Fortunately for our plan there is not.”

“ Ther nearest anybody are ter ther guard-
cahi’ii arena hundred and fifty feet.”

‘ e

“ Waal, my plan are thet you rides ther
black horse of Dead Shot out 0’ camp ter—morrer,
for he gived him ter yer, un’ yer sails of! arter-
some wild ponies.

“ Catch a good one, an’ then return an’ tell
how ther black got away from yer; but don’t
yer turn up onti sunset, so nobody wilLbe able
ter 0 huntin’ for him.

“ er kin leave ther black over at ther edge
0’ ther chaparral, whar ther old military camp
was, an’ which are jist three miles from ther
fort."

“ Yes, Kit.”

“ Then, when night comes on, I’ll dress up in
some sojer clothes, l’er I kin git a sergeant’s
suit, an“ as I hain’t got no beard ter speak of,
1’11 git that false ba’r thet Capt’iu Lorne were
at ther masked fandango some time ago, an’
put it on, fer I seen it linngin’ up in his room
near ther window, an' I kin reach it an’ git my
grip onto it.

‘ I’ll walk bold as a hilly-goat up to the sent’-
nel, an’ jist grab him by the throat, so he can’t
squeal, an’ yer know thar hain’t but one man in
these camps as kin loosen my grip.”

" And that is Dead Shot?”

“ Yas, be kin loosen ther grip 0’ any man I
ever seen.

“ Waal, I won‘t hurt ther Sent’nel, but I’ll jist
hey you round ther corner 0’ ther cabin, dressed
as one o’ ther old squaws over in ther Hanger~on
Camp an’ you kin tie ther sojer tight as wax,
an’ I ll gag him.

“ Then we kin take ther keys, 0 n ther door,
onlock ther irons, an’ jist tell Dee Shot ter skip
out o’ ther fortifications, fer he kin sling a lariat
onto a limb 0' that oak near ther well, an’ git
over beautiful.

“ You kin tell him Whar his horse is, an then
we kin shuck our duds an' go up round head-
quarters an’ hang about ontil arter ther relief—
guard goes round an’ ther diskiv’ry is made.”

“ Keno Kit, your plan is splendid, and we
will carry it out: but the weapons of Dead Shot
Dandy are in the colonel’s quarters.”

“ I would like to have him git ’em, Pard
Beeneeto, but I does think he’ll hev ter be satis-
fied without '91:). an’ I hes enough an’ ter spare.”

“ Yes, we cannot do more, for to take his
arms would brin suspicion upon me, as I have

_ the run of the co onel’s quarters.”

“ An‘, pard boy, yer must be pertick’lernot ter
be away in ther eveniu' longer than yer kin

el . ,

‘PHev ther squaw’s rig ready, which I hev in
my traps, fer I hev played squaw myself in my
time, when oin’ inter Injun camps, an’ yer kin
8le it on an all kin be did in ten minutes, an’

on be back ag’in an’ blow that boogle o’ yourn
or All it are worth.”

 

“I will, Kit, and you must show up at head—
quarters, too, so as not to be missed.

“But they may get some soldier into trouble.’

“ Yas, waal, thar is plenty more in ther army,
gt they hangs one fer ther settiu’ 0’ Dead Shot
ree.

“ I would confess that I did it, before I would
see a man hanged, Kit.”

“ Waal, it depends on what they intended
doin’ with him.”

“ How do you mean?”

“ Ef they was only goiu’ ter put him in ther
guard-house fer awhile, all right.

“bEi’T, they jist puts him on double duty, all
ri t.

“ But if they suspect a. man or order him out
to be shot?”

“ Then we’ll ste to ther front an’ save him.”

“ Good! Now am ready for the work, as I
suppose they will not blame the sentinel for be
ing overpowered."

‘They w’n’dn’t ef they knew thet my grig

were upon him," returned Keno Kit; but wit
no idea of boasting of his strength.

 

CHAPTER XI.
THE BOY mosrnnonn.

BRIGHT and early the following morning,
Benito, the Boy Bugler was up, preparing for
his wild-horse hunt.

He asked permission of the colonel to go out
upon the prairie for a chase of wild mustangs,
and that officer said:

“ What, Benito, 0 you intend to try wild-
horse catchi , too?”

“ Yes, sir, wish to see if-I can do so.”

“ Well, you are a dead shot, a good fencer
an excellent horseman, throw the lariet as well
as any man in camp, can play the bugle beauti-
fully, and, I no not doubt, will soon become the
champion Wild—horse catcher.”

“ Thank you, sir; but I wish to catch a faster
horse than my pony, for he is é‘little slow.”

“ Then you better ride a fast animal to do the
work on.

“ How would my daughter’s horso, Equine
King, suit you, for she would lend him to you I
know?"

“ He is not trained for the work, sir.”

“Ah! I forgot that, but Monte has an animal'
that is.”

“ I am not very friendly with Monte, sir, and
would not ask him.”

“ Why not take Death Shot’s black, which he
gave you, Benito?” asked Captain Lorne, who
was resent.

" rue; why he is the very horse for you, and
the fleetest animal on the prairies," put in the
colonel.

" I did not wish to ride him, sir, until after—
after—”

“ Ah! I understand you; until after poor Dead
Shot’s death.

“Well, do as you please. Benito.”

“ I will take him, air," and Benito turned
away, and soon after rode out of the fort for his
chase of wild mustangs.

He certainly was in luck, for ere he had gone
half a mile a large herd was spied driving
along at a rapid pace and heading north, the '“

 

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14 Dead-Shot Dandy's Double.

 

very direction which the boy wished them to

go.

Instantly he gave the word to the black, and
away he went at a terrific ace.

Glancing over the herd, enito picked out the
animal he wanted.

It was a long-bodied, high-headed roan stal-
lion, apparently in a. gallop, while the greater
part of the herd were at a run.

Pressing him, the boy saw him bound away
at a pace that showed his speed.

That the herd was strange in that part of the
prairie was evident, for the leader was heading
in a direction that would bring him upon a
deep ravine.

It was a split in the prairie which could not
be crossed for a mile on each side of the point
toward which the herd was driving.

“Now is my chance,” cried Benito, and be
pressed on the harder after the magnificent
roan.

On dashed the herd, and keeping back the boy
Benito urged them forward at their utmost
speed. and saw that the roan stallion had taken
the lead and still kept up only a sweeping gal-
lop, which showed he had not let himself out as
he could do.

Soon the ravine came in sight and there was
halting, swaying scatterin to right and left,
and then Benito dashed to t e front.

Thi‘ roan had halted in amazement and was
snuifing the air with distended nostrils and head
up.

Just then, as he was about to dart away, the
lariat was thrown.

It was along throw and barely reached; but
over the shapely head it settled, and the well—
trained black throwing himself back quickly
upon his haunches, the wild mustang was thrown

' upon the prairie with stunning force.

Quickly Benito had sprung from his saddle

, and was at his side, thrusting upon him a bow-

stall.

Then, unloosening the lariat about his throat,
he allowed the gasping animal to rise.

But the daring boy was on his back, and in-
stantly, like an arrow from a bow, and with a
wild snort of rage and fright, the untamed beast
bounded away.

A call to the black, and he came following be-
hind at a pace that kept him near. -

The herd had scattered to the right and left,
and were flying in two gangs across the prairie,
and up and down the ravine.

Toward one of these bands the roan mustang
headed, but he. was quickly checked by a jerk
upon the bow-stall.

Then began a struggle for mastery between
the boy and his equine captive.

And ion it lasted, until the roan and his
rider were oth well-nigh exhausted.

But the horseman triumphed ovor the brute,
and the mustang, tamed by the master hand,
was ridden toward the point where Benito
wished to go.

That was the place of an old encampment, in
gt: :dge of the chaparral which led on to Padre’s
c .
Lnxurlnnt grass was there in abundance, and
lenty f water, so that Benito soon had Dead
5110?. lack unsaddled and lariated out to rest

 

and feed, while he hoppled his roan beyond
chance of escape. _

Lying down to rest. Benito sunk to sleep, and
the day was drawing near its close when he
awoke.

His roan had made the best of the matter by-

eating the grass at his feet, and the black was
thoroughly rested. .

Watering the latter at the spring, Benito
again staked him out, and then mounted the
roan, untied the hoppie, and let  bound
away at full speed with him, guiding him in
the direction of the fort.

Into the stockade he dashed just at sunset,
and all were delighted with his splendid cap-
tnre.

“ You don’t mean you lost the black, Benito!"
said Colonel Du Barry.

“The last Isaw of him, sir, he was a long
way behind me, and I had my hands full Wit
the Colonel here, for I have named him after
you, sir, with your permission.”

“ Certainly, my boy, and at the christening
I’ll present him with a Mexican saddle and
bridle ” answered the kind-hearted colonel,
while keno Kit remarked:

“Par-d Beeneeto, thet animile are a beauty
an’ no mistake.

“But don’t feel bad about ther black, for
sometimes a horse gifs tangled in his bridle, an’
et he don’t come in tar-night we kin look him
up ter-morrow fer yer.”

Then, as the two went off together, the scout
continued:

“ Yer has done prime, boy pard.”

“ And did you get the uniform?"

“Yes, and yanked the beard out o’ ther
winder, on bet.

“ I tel yer, ther plot are workin’ fu’st—class.”

CHAPTER XII.
'rns: RESCUERS AT WORK.

BENITO was Very tired after his severe strug~
le with the roan mustang; but he went up to
eadquarters, as soon as it was dark, and never

ap red in better spirits.

fter the guards were posted at oi ht o’clock,
he got his cornet out and began p ying, and
never before did he play better, all thought
who heard him. . '

Keno Kit was also loaflug about. smoking his

pipe, and chatting now and then With an
officer.

Presently he walked quietly away and Benito

 

saw him disappear in the direction of the .

soldier-8’ gunners.

He ha
laid down his comet, with the remark:

“ She needs cleaning, captain, so Ill get my
box and clean her u .’ I

“ Then you'll see is e difierence.”

Leaning the comet on the bench on the
broad headquarters piazza where he had been
seated, Benito walked quietly away.

Straight to his cabin he went, and a.an
darkness there. _

But as he stepped within, Keno Kit whis-

pered:
“ I is here, pard, an’ done up like a bold eager,
on bet.”
y “ 1 Now where is my rig!”

not been gone long before the boy '

xvi-2*

 

 

 

 

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yaw—W...

 

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double. _ 15

 

“ Ri ht thar, an’ at it don’t make a Squaw out
0’ yer, lies."

“ I made yer a head-gear o’ scalps, an' in ther
box yer finds on ther table are paint fer yer
face a’n’ hands, so jist jump inter ther rags in no
time.

Benito ra idly found the articles referred to,

' and a coup e of minutes was sufficient forhim

to thoroughly disguise himself.
“ Is yer ready, boy pardl”
“ I am.”
“Then jist skip.”
“ For the guard-house!”
H Yes.”

“ I will go to the rear of it!”

“Yes, an’ when yer hears me come up, jist
sail to ther front.”

“ Where are the ropes and the gag for his
mouth?”

“ Here they is in my hand.”

“Now I am ready. ’

“ All ri ht, sail out, Boy Boogler.”

Benito eft the cabin and cautiously made his
way to the guard-house, arriving in the rear of
that gloomy abode in less than ten minutes after
he had left headquarters.

The sentinel was pacing to and fro, little
dreaming of the plot to free the prisoner, and
that he was then c oser watched

Soon, from his lace of lookout, Benito saw
the form of Keno ’1: coming through the dark-
ness.

So upright did he walk, so soldierly did he
look :in the shadowy light, that Benito feared
that it was not Keno Kit, his pard.

Straight up to the sentinel he walked, receiv—
ing a salute, for the stripes upon his arms were
visible to the soldier, though he failed to recog-
nize him. '

Seeing that he was a stranger, the sentinel
was about to halt him, when, With the spring of
a panther, Keno Kit was upon him, his hand
upon his throat while he said in hoarse tones:

“ Resist and you die I" v

At that moment the sentinel saw the form of
11 sqan lide up, and instantly the musket was
wrench from his hands, and he found himself
in a clutch he could not shake off.

Nor could he cry out, as the pressure upon his
throat prevented that.

Half a minute of time was sufficient for the
rescuers to bind and gag the sentinel securely,
and then he was taken around the cabin out of
sight, and the keys were unloosened from his

Unlockin the guard-house the daring allies
stegfied wit in.
was darkness, and Keno Kit called out in
a whisper:
“ Pardl”

No reply. and again he called:

“ Pard Dead Shot 1"

Still no answer. ’

“ Waal, he do sleep sound fer a man as is goin’
ter b’e shooted; it hain’t like him tersleep that
we .

“yKeno Kit, Dead Shot has gm I" cried
Benito.

 

“ Who knows?”

“ Waal, it are so, for here are his irons, an’ he
hev skipped.”

“Who has aided him, Kit!”

“ Somebody as has been sooner than we is.”

“ Well, he is gone an’ I am glad of it, though
I would like to have been the one that aimd
hlils ,escape, but it seems he has friends here after
a .

“ So it do.”

“Well, let us return to headquarters, so as
not to be suspected.”

“ All right, boogler pard.”

Quietly the two left the cabin, the sentinel
was brought back and placed before the door,
which they had looked, and tied to the logs with
his musket at “ shoulder arms,” so that any one
seeing him when passing would suspect nothing

wrong. .
Then the two returned to the cabin, threw
off their disguises and Keno Kit went to replace
the uniform and false beard, while Benito
washed his face, and seizmg his comet-case,
hastened back to headquarters, not having been

half an hour absent.

And there he played his comet, with Keno
Kit/and others seated out upon the piazza listen-
ing, until the relief guard went round and the
startling news was made known that Dead Shot
Dandy had escaped.

CHAPTER XIII.
THE ESCAPE.
l DEAD Snor DANDY sat alone in his prison of
s.

e heard the hum of the distant camps. the
singing of the birds and the steady trend of the
sentinel before the door.

These were the sounds that reached his ears,
while his eyes fell upon bare walls of rudely
hewn logs, a table, a cot, a camp-stool and no

more.
. At last there fell into the room a. tiny ray of

l ht.

fit was a golden beam of sunlight cast by the
orb of day just as it was going down beyond
the horizon.

“ It seems like a ray of hope amid the gloom
that surrounds me,” murmured the prisoner.

Then the door was opened and (soldier en-
tered With the supper for the prisoner.

No Word pamed between the two, the meal
was placed silently upon the table and then,
Dead Shot Dandy was alone once more.

Darkness now fell upon the scene, and the

risouer sat bv the table, his head buried in his
hands and his supper untouched.

Suddenly he heard a peculiar sound.

It seemed like the gnawing ot a rat, yet
gfim whence it came Dead Shot could not
Now and then it would cease, and then again
he would hear it.

What could it mean?

At last the sound changed to one that was
grating, and Dead Shot looked upward, for
there it seemed to be.

He knew that the roof was whole and firm,
nlnd yet now he distinctly saw light shining
t imu h.

An ontheroothenowplacsd thesmmd.

 

 

is . Dead-Shot Dandy's Double.

 

Instantly he discovered the cause.

That brave boy is trying to rescue me,” he
sai .

Still the grating sound continued, unheard by
the sentine who passed to and fro before the
cabin.

“ He may yet hear it.

“ I will sing to drown the noise, though he
works almost uoiselessly, and if he is discovered
the guard will kill him.”

Then, in a rich tenor the prisoner broke forth
in a lively melody that caused the sentinel to
mutter:

“That man has more pluck than generally
falls to human beings.

“He sings well too; but his voice will be
hushed before long, and it’s a pity, for I hate to
see a brave man die, even if he be a bad one.”

Thus mused the sentinel little dreaming that,
upon the other side of the roof a'persou was

.working like a beaver to prevent the prisoner
from dying.

And on sung Dead Shot, running from one air
into another until at last he beheld asquare
opening in the roof, fully large enough for him
to go through.

Then the space was darkened, and a human
form was Visible, relieved against the clear

sk .

The next instant a human being stood by his
side having come down by means of a rope.

“ r. Decatur, 1 have come to save you,”
said a low voice.

In spite of himself the scout very nearly ut.
toged an exclamation aloud when he heard that
v0 ce.

“ You here, to save me?" he cried in a whis

per.
u Yes.” _
“ I am sorry you came, for I must remain
and meet my fate.”
“ You must do no such silly thing, for after I
have risked so much to save you I will not hear
'to your refusing to go.”
6 B ch”

‘p‘ I will hear of no excuses.

“You are sentenced ,to die in five days, and
die you will have to if you remain here.

“I believe that you are innocent, and once
free from here you can prove that you are not
the guilty one it is claimed that you are."

“ God bless you for those kind words."

“ Then you will go, for 1 have the keys which
I took from the colonel’s desk.”

“ You have risked much to save me.”

“ Then lose no time but go at once."

“ But who has helped you?"

V “ No one, for I dared not trust an one, fear-
ing that I would get them into troub e.”

“ And you have done all this to save me?”

“ Yes, and hope that you will not delay now.
I bored into the roof with an auge‘r, and then
used a small saw to open a space. The rope is
made fast to cross-beams, so will hold your
wei ht."

” on go first then."

“You will follow?”

“ At once.”

I Up the rope hand over hand went the daring
rescuer, and was soon out upon the roof.

 

Then the scout followed, and he saw that the

rope had been made fast to a tree growing in
thetrear of the log-cabin and overhanging the
we .

Quickly yet noiselessly the rescuer slipped
into the branches of the tree and dropped upon
the round, the scout following closely.

“ was unable to get a horse for you, Mr.
Decatur; but the Chaparral is not far away, and
once there you can defy pursuit, knowing the
country as you do.

“ Besides, you will have a long start. Here
are your arms for you.”

“ Oh, how good you have been to me!"

“ Do not speak of it. Here also is your lariat,
and you can scale the stockade at the large tree
yonder.

“ Now go, and if you are innocent, prova
yourself so.”

“ If I am guilty?” he asked in a low tone.

“ Then go your way with your own con-
science, and that will be punishment enough for
you in in mind.”

it   .7!

“ Good—by.”

He held out his hand and it was firmly
grasped by his rescuer, who then motioned him
away.

Following slowly and kee ing the scout in
sight, the one who had risk so much and ac-
complished all that had been intended, saw him
threw his lariat at the naked branch of a tree
and quickly run up to the top of the stockade.

Then a sigh broke from the lips of the rescuer,
who at once ran nimbly in the direction of the
oflicers’ quarters, disapgearing from sight in
the shadow of a large ea in.

A moment after that same person sunk down,
as though overcome with fatigue and excite-
ment. upon a lounge and cried earnestly:

“ Thank God I have saved him.”

The speaker appeared to be a youth, and was
dressed in a soldier’s uniform.

But as the light fell full upon the face it re-
vealed the pale, beautiful countenance of Marie
Du Barry. 1 '

Half an hour after she had cast aside her
uniform, and in her own attire was seated upon
the piazza of her own home, listening to the
Boy Bugler’s music, while her father sat near
by smoking a cigar in silence, and little dream-
ing of the bold part that his lovely daughter
had played, to save the life of Dead Shot Dandy
the condemned scout, who Was _then going
across the prairies at a brisk walk in the direc-*'
tion of the chaparrals where he knew there was
safety for him from all pursuit.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
xaxo Kir's SACRIFICE.

Tm: excitement that existed in Fort Blank
and its adjoining camps was intense, When it
became known that Dead Shot had escaped.

How he had done so the hole in the roof
showed conclusively, and yet there was a deep
mystery about it. .

When the relief guard went into the cabin
the sentinel on duty there was discovered in a
ver, disagreeable and embarrassing situation.

9 stood up against the walls of the guard-

ing): -’ "r

1,... “Walnutsniuayfii  .

.a- .w... wearer...”

‘ we iwfiaigmff‘f‘tw‘vwww”

 

 

 

., ~§zfite~< ..

 

 

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double. 1‘?

 

house, firmly bound. and his musket was secured
to his side as though on duty.

His story was told to Colonel Du Barry,
before whom the sergeant at once brought
him.
“Now, sir, what have you to say for your-
self?" sternly asked the colonel.

The man’s mouth was by no means in good
talking condition, after his having been gagged
so long; but he blurted out:

“ I’ll tell you, sir, I’ll tell you.”

“ That is what I wish you to do, sir, and lose
no time about it.”

“Well, sir, I was pacing my beat, after the
prisoner had stopped singing.”

“ Singing?”

“ Yes, sir, he was singing awful gay for a
long time.

“ Then he stopped, and presently I saw a
soldier coming toward me."

“ Who was it?"

“ That I do not know, sir; but he wore a ser-
geant’s stripes, sir, and had along beard.”

“ What mun answers that description, Lorne?”
and Colonel Du Barry turned to Cecil Lorne,
who answered:

“ Corporal Dunn has along beard, six.”

“ But this man was not the corporal, sir," said
the guard.

“ And you do not know who he was?”

“ No, sir.”

“ This is very strange, my man.”

“ I know it, sir; but he came right up to me,
and seeing that I did not know him, I was about
to halt him, when he jumped upon me and took
me by the throat at the same time telling me he
would kill me if i resisted.”

“ Were you not strong enough to resist him,
for you are a powerful man in appearance,
Richards.“

“ I was like a baby in his hands, sir, and then
came an old Injun squaw.”

“ A squaw ?”

‘_‘ Yes, sir; one of them that lives over in the
cam

“ hich one?”

“ Lor’, sir, they are all alike.”

“ That is true."

“ Well, what did the squaw doi”

"She helped tie my hands and feet, sir, and
shoved the gag in my mouth.

“ See here, sir; she cut my lips, opening my
mouth, and you can just; see that the man hurt

‘my throat,” and the soldier exhibited the re-

sults of Keno Kit's grip upon him.

“ Yes, you were not handled with gloves; but
I am glad it was no worse, my man.

"‘ Now tell me what was then done?”

“ The took me around the corner of the

L cabin, s r, and laid me down, taking my keys

,from me.

“ Then they departed for a few minutes, but '

returned and tied me up as the guard found
me.

I “ had you did not see them bring the prisoner
Ollggo‘ sir.» .

“ And know nothing about the hole sawed in

the roof?"
“ No, sir.”
“Nor heard the sewing?”

a

 

 

“ No, sir; but I am just a trifle deaf.”
“ Ahl

“ Well, my man, I think you have overdone
your part, for I believe you guilty."

“ Guilty, sir?”

“Yes, for you had the only keys, exce ting
those in my desk, that unlock the guard- was
and the prisoner’s irons.

“ You overdid the matter in allowing the
prisoner to out that hole in the roof, and then
tie you up as the goal d found you.”

“ Ah, sir, I am not guilty.”

" Have you searched this man, sergeant?”

in No' sir.” _

“ Do so.”

The soldier was searched and in his pockets

was found a large roll of bills, amounting to

several hundred ollars.

“ Ah, this looks bad.

“ W here did you get this money, my man?”

The soldier hesitated, and then said:

“ I found it, sir, in the Indian camp at the
last fight.”

“ I do not believe you, Richards, and it pains
me to say so, for you have been a good soldier.

“ Sergeant, lead him to the guard—house, and
if the prisoner is not captured 1 will take the
responsibility of having Richards shot, for his
crime is worse than desertion, for he has ac-
cepted a bribe to set free a man who has cost
the Government many lives and thousands and
thousands of dollars.’

The soldier turned piteonsly toward his com-
mander, but “as sternly ordered OE, and the
sergeant was just putting the irons upon him
when Keno Kit stepped into the room.

“ Col’nel, them irons belongs for my wrists,
an’ not ter his’n.” ,

“What do you mean, Kit?” asked Colonel
Du Barry, starting to his feet in surprise, while
all gazed upon him in astonishment.

“ I means that ther soger did find ther money
in ther Injun camps, as others did too, fer
seen ’em with it, an‘ he didn’t git it ter let Dead
Shot 0 free.”

“ ow know you this, Keno Kit!”

“ From hevin’ set Dead Shot free myself."

“ What?"

“Fact.”

“ Do you mean it?”

“ Waal, I’ll confess thet I stole Sergeant Bo-
dine’s uniform an’ hat, gobbled up that false
beard that hangs in ther capt’in’s room, an’
walked up beautiful to the sojer.

" He were goin’ ter bayonet me, I guesses, but
I are a trifle quick in movin’ an’ so I jist got
my sgueezer onter his throat an’ tied him.”

‘ ut who was the squaw that aided on?"
“This was a poser for Keno Kit, an
31 en .

“ What squaw was it that aided you?"

“ Lordy, col’nel, yer hain’t g’wine ter visit
my sins ’pon thet ole Injun gal?”

" I must know her name.”

“ Hain’t I enough rer suffer?”

“ No, you must tell me who aided you.”

he was

“ Wa—al, col’nel, fer ther fu’st time in my life, I

I disobeys orders, so jist sot Richards loose an

take me out an’ shoot me of yer wants ter, for ‘
I sat Dead Shot free. an’ I‘m darned of I tells-

who helped me to do it."

 

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

 

CH A PTER XV.

A FAIR PRISONER.

“ Ann do you mean, sir, that on set Dead
Shot Dandy free?" sternly ask Colonel Du

B .

“ I means jist thet, col’nel, Bo put ther irons
on me, fer that sent’nel hain’t ther one ter pun-
ish,” was the frank reply of Keno Kit.

“ Sergeant set Richards free.”

This was done, and then Colonel Du Barry
continued:

" Richards, I ask your pardon for my sus-
picions of you; but it looked so thoroughly
against you, that—”

“ It looks ag’in’ Dead Shot, too. col‘nl, but I
believes he hain’t guilty,” put in Keno Kit.

“ Silence, sir!

“I wish the scout could have been proven in-
nocent, as you have Richards. Now you can
go. and to-morrow I shall promote on to be
ordinance sergeant in place of poor urns who
was killed the other day. I do this to make
amends for the wron done you.”

Richards bowed h 3 thanks and waited to
hear what Keno Kit would say now, for he

id:

“ I’d like to know, sir, if you please, about the
hole in the roof.”

“ True; how came that there, Keno Kit?”

“ Col’nel, I hev confessed to you that I set
Dead Shot free.

“I are that man that seized Richards heur,
and 1 are willint ter take ther consequences.

“More, I does not intend ter say.”

“ But you can tell why you made that hole in
the roof of the guard-house, when you had the
keys to let the scout out of the door?”

‘ Waal, yer see I hed diff’rent plans fer freein’
him, an’ when I got ther keys, I didn’t need
that hole’in ther roof for him.”

“ Well', sir, do you know that you have taken

I {fur life in your hands in setting free the

arauder chief?"

“ Col’nel, it were Dead Shot I sot free.”

“And he was found guilty of being the Ma-
rauder captain."

“ It did look that way, sir; but he hain’t been
execooted as sich yet, an’ maybe he won‘t.”

“ But you have set all discipline at defiance
in releasing him."

"I are here ter take that consequences," was
the cool reply. ‘

“And you shall, for I do not intend that you

shall escape, and, as I said to Richards, so I say

to you, that you shall he shot for your act."

‘. You knows best, col’nel.”

“ Pardon me, Colonel Du Barry, but Keno
Kit is not the only guilty one, for I aided him,"
and Benito stepped into the room.

“ You?‘ the colonel, for he had learned
to love the y Bugler as though he were his
own son."

“Yes, sir, for I am the old squaw,” and
Benito smiled as pleasantly as than I: he had
been playing a joke in impersonat ng‘ an old

new. ~ / .

“ BenitoDewhurst, this is a most serious mat—
ter for you,” steme said the colonel.

“It was more serious for poor Dead Shot,”

 

was the answer of the boy, though not with any
desire to be impertinent.

“ You are young, deeplinattached to Dead
Shot Dandy, and hardly ew the gravity of
the crime you were committing, 50—”

“ You are mistaken, Colonel Du Barry, for I
fully knew all that I did, and I expect my
punishment to be the same as that which you
threaten Keno Kit with, for I am equally
guilg’.”

“ oy pard, why in thunder didn’t yer keep
yer mouth shet, fer they’d never hev diskivered
that old new ter be you."

“ You . ould not suffer alone Keno Kit.”

“Waal, we went inter ther his eend o’ ther
horn tergether an’ we comes out o’ ther leetle
eend side by si e,” said Keno Kit. '

“Sergeant, put that ho in irons too, for he
is also guilty,” sternly sai Colonel bu Barry.

“ One moment, sergeant.”

The speaker was Marie Du Bang, and she
stepde between the sergeant an the Boy
Bug er while she took from the hands of the
former the iron handcufls which he held.

No one had suspected her presence until she
had glided into the room.

“ Marie i” cried the colonel, as she approached.

uickly she clasped the irons upon her own
wrists, and holding out her little hands toward
her father, she said, in calm, distinct tones: ‘

“ golonel Du Barry, now you have the guilty
one.

“ Marie, for God’s sake what does all this
mean i” cried the mystified colonel.

“ It means that I set Dead Shot Dandy free,”

From every lip came an exclamation at this
bold assertion, while Keno Kit said:

“ Waul, thet do beat all, an’ no mistake.

“ Don’t it, boy pardl"

But Benito‘s was fixed upon the beautiful
girl, as she stoo boldly before her father.

“ Are you mad, child?" gasped the colonel.

“No, sir."

“Then why do you make such an assertion?”

“ Because it is true." '

“ This man says that he set the prisoner free,
and Benito has confessed to aiding him in the
act.

‘f Now you say you are the guilty one.”

" Permit me to explain, father, and then, as a
soldier’s daughter, I am willing to suffer pun-
ishment, if so you will, with Keno Kit and
Benito.”

“ Then explain at once." '

“ You know that I have nevar believed Dead
Shot Dandy as the scout is called, guilty of the
charges against him?” _

“Yes, you have so foolishly said.”

“ You will also remember, father, that he has
twice saved my life?" .

“ I do remember, my child,” and the voice of
the kind-hearted father trembled as he spoke.

“ Owin him my life, and, in my heart be-
lievinfi1 him innocent, it was not in my nature
to see im perish.

“ I therefore determined to save his life if in

in war.

XE): do so, I reconnoitered the guard‘house
thoroughly, and observed that a tree grew close
to it in the rear.

“This was an aid to my purpose, and I so-

a.

Wigwam.“ 41...... .  .

   
   
   
     
    
  
    
  
 
    
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
    
    
  
   
   
  
 
 
  

 w,”

  

 

Al“.  i. fl...

 

 

Dead-Shot Dnndy’s Doublo.

 
 

 

cured a stout rope, an auger and a saw for my

use.

“ Then I got Nita, my maid, to bring me the
new uniform the regimental tailor had just
made for Benito, and I dressed up 1nit—”

“ Oh, Marie, my child 1"

“ I could not climb with skirts on, father,”
innocently said Marie.

Then she continued:

“ I took , the keys of the guard-house and
manacles from your desk, recovered the wea-
pons belon ng to the scout, and set to work.

“ I hot the auger-holes in the roof, and the
saw did the rest.

“ Then I fastened my rope to the overhang-
ing limbs and went into the cabin, unlocked the
irons that held Dead Shot in durance vile, and
bade him fly.

“ He at first refused; but I told him I believed
him innocent. and to go and prove himself so.

“ Then he departed, scaling the stockade wall,
by aid of the oak-tree growing against it, and
thank Heaven he is free.

“ As for Keno Kit and Benito, they doubtless
meant to rescue their friend; but I was before
them,” and Marie smiled.

“ Durned ef yer wasn’t ahead, an' of yer hain’t
a glory, then set me down fer a weepin’ liar,"
blunth said Keno Kit, lost in admiration at the
act of the brave 'ri.

“ Marie, my c ild, I know not what to do,

for you have been equally guilty with this man
and boy.”
“ ermit me, Colonel Du Ba , to suggest
that you to ve the trio. for eno Kit and
Benito inten ed releasing Dead‘Shot. and Miss
Du Barry did so.” said Captain Cecil Lorne.

“ It will be said that I do so on account of my
dau bter.”

“ t makes no difl'erence, sir what is said, so
that Miss Du Barry is not made!» feel unpleas-
antly for acting from impulse that was right,
to serve one who had saved her life.”

“ Then I will drop the matter here; but if
suchathing occurs again in my command. I
will punish the guilty one, be it you even,
Marie.

“ Keno Kit, you and Benito are discharged.”

The two pards bowed and left the room, fol-
lowed by the soldiers, and Marie remained alone
with her father who was certainly in no pleas-
ant mood with her for her daring act.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
A PLEASANT SURPRISE.

I WILL now return to Dead Shot Dead after

' be had thrown his lariat upon the naked 'mb of

the tree growing near the stocknde well.

By this means. he drew himself up into the
tree, loosened the noose from about the limb,
and then possin the. lath around it, lowered
himself to the ot or side. '

“ I am free, and it will be a daring man that
attempts to retake me now,” he said, as he stood
on the outside of the stockade wall.

But which way to go he seemed at a losstode—
cide for a moment or two.

“ I will go to the chaparral, and once there‘l

am safe.
“ But it pains msdeeply to give up my beau.

 

Eiful horse, but Benito will treat him Well, I
now.

“‘ Well, I can soon get another animal, and it
will not be my fault if I do not get a good one.

“ To the chaparrals I go then.”

With this he set oil across the prairie at a.
rapid walk, his belt of arms about his waist and
his trusty rifle at his back.

A strange circumstance directed his steps to-
ward the old encampment before referred to.

It may have been that he knew that the en-
tranoeto the cha ml was easiest from that
point, and it may ve been accident.

But certain it is that he went straight to the
old encampment.

With no expectation of meeting any one
there, he was not approaching with caution, but
was brought to a sudden halt by hearing the
snort of a horse.

“ Hal some one is there,” he said.

Instantly he threw himself flat down upon the
prairie, and thus lay listening and watching.

“ Can it be that some wild mustangs are
there?" he muttered.

For a long time he waited, twice hearing the
ort of a horse again.

“ me Indian scout may be there, or it may
be a Marauder.”

For some time longer he remained quiet, and
then he crept along toward the chaperrals,
which arose ark and gloomy befure him.

Nearer and nearer he went, circling around
the old place of encam ment, so as to gain the
shelter of the cha rra s.

At last he go ned their shelter and the
standing upon a slight rise of ground, he behe
a

orse.

The animal had ceased feeding, and was
standing with outstretched head, watching and
listening, evidently having scented the presence
of the scout.

“ That is no wild horse,” muttered the scout.

And creeping nearer to him he continued:

“ He is staked out, and that proves that his
master is near. ,

“ But I need a mount, and I’ll just borrow
that horse.”

Movin himself through the grass be ap-
proach to within a few feet of the animal and
a low neigh greeted him.

Instantly he was upon his feet.

“By Heaven! it is my own beautiful Night
Hawk !"

With these words he sprung to the side of the
animal, who rubbed his nose lovingly against
the broad breast of his master, whom he had
without doubt recognized from the first. '

“ But what are you doing here, Night Hawk!

“ Perhaps Benito is here, for I left you with
him, when they said I must die.

f “ Yet he would, hardly camp this near the
ort.

“ No, some one must have stolen you, and if
so, woe be unto that man. ’

“ Where is he, Night Hawk?

“ Where is be, old fellow?”

Following up the lariat. at the stake, tohis~
surprise Dead Shot Dandy found his own sad-
dle, bridle and lasso, with his saddle-pocket!

 

filled with ammunition, evidently taken from“!
store at the cabin. I . '

  

  

 

 

20 Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double. *

 

The haversack was also full of provisions, and
seeing all this Dead Shot said:

“ Well, whoever ran off with you, Night
Hawk, prepared for a long trip, I am glad to

see.

“ Now, old horse, we will be off, and, mounted
upon you I have no fear of capture."

So saying Dead Shot Dandy bridled and sad-
dled the animal, and then led him to the chap-
arral’s edge.

Leaving him standing, for he knew he would
come at his call, he began a thorough search for
the one he believed had stolen the horse, and
whom he expected to find near by.

But his search proved fruitless, as the reader
can understand, and mounting his horse he was
about to ride away, when the fall of hoofs
reached, his ears, and he knew that several
horsemen were coming rapidly toward him.

CHAPTER XVII.
LULU's FLIGHT.

Tn daughter of Bronze Bill was a noble—
hearted, proud girl, yet she was slightly way-
ward at times.

She had never known amother’s love and
care, and had grown up among strangers.

With Don Sebastian Brent and his wife she
had been left in her early girlhood, by her
father, and from thence‘she had become an in-
mate of the convent. »

She had beena good student, obedient, yet
she liked not the gloomy walls of her abode.

Her vacations were 3 cut with the Bronte, for
Don Sebastian also he two daughters at the
convent.

There it was that she had learned to ride like
an Indian and shoot with deadly aim.

Upon leaving the convent she had gone again
to the Brent Hacienda, by special invitation to
make it her home.

Her father allowed her considerable money,
sending her sums from time time, and giving
Mrs. Brent permission to dress her as she
pleased. .

That Bronze Billdid not make all his money
in scouting and hunting seemed evident; but
still Lulu believed her father a ranchero and so
thought not of where her living came from.

Bronze Bill also told Don Sebastian to give
her a pony, and to supply her with all the am-
munition she chose to shoot away.

Lulu was certainly a very beautiful girl, and
her manners were refined, although she was a
dead shot, could catch a wild mustang and ride
him bareback, follow a trail, and swim like a
do] hin.

he was also as athletic as an Indian, could
mount her horse from the ground, and a walk
of miles never tired her in the least.

Don Sebastian really loved the girl, and
hoped that his son a young man of twenty-two,
would make her his wife, although the boy was
wild and dissi ated.

The Don he come to Texas a 1‘ man, mar-
ried a ranchero’s daughter, an thus gotten a
start in life.

Becoming a ranchero, he had been dubbed
“Don,” after the Mexican Way of addressing
rich men and his wife’s maiden name. Sebasp
tian, had'bsen put before his own of Brent.

 

Shortly after the departure of Paymaster
Leighton from the hacienda, a change came
over Lulu Dale.

Of course it was attributed to her father’s
death, for she seemed ill at ease and moody.

Then she was wont to go off alone to ride
more than usual, and she had gone shopping in
San Antonio several times unaccompanied,
while, when at the hacienda, she was always
looked in her own room.

The Don had asked her what was the matter,
and told her not to grieve too deeply for her fa~
that, as he would be all in all to her.

But she had made no reply.

Don Sebastian had also volunteered to take
her money, which Paymaster Leighton had left
her, along with what she had, and in all
amounting to the snug little sum of four thou-
sand dollars, and invest it all for her.

But she had told him she would wait awhile,
until she had fully decided what would be her
future plans, and she held on to her money.

One morning the Don arose early, as was his
wont, and going out upon the piazza, found a
peon there awaiting him.

The eon handed him a letter which he said
he had eon requested to give to him.

The Don recognized the peon as the son of a
guide dwelling beyond San Antonio, and whom
he knew quite well.

“ Who sent this letter?” he asked, although
by opening he could have discovered at a
g once.

“ The senorita, senor.”

The Don looked over his shoulder, to see if his
wife had heard, and then broke the seal.

“ Why it is from Lulu!” he exclaimed.

Then he read half-aloud as follows:

“ Tuesday night.
“ Simon:—

“ I write these lines to you from my room in
your house.

“ They will be the last you will ever hear from the
young girl, llli' orphan and the waif, for whom you
have so kindly cared these long years in the past.

“To—night I leave your roof to seek my fortune
elsewhere.

“ You, I thank most sincerely for your kindness to
me: but there are those toward whom I feel no
thankfuiness.

“It might have been that I would have gona on
dwelling in your house for some time longer, had I
not, while reclining in the hammock beneath yonr
room window, overheard whnt passed between your
wife and yourself the day after the departure of
Lieu‘ enan‘. Elgar Leighton.

“I heard your wife ask you the sum left me by
my father.

“ I heard your answer.

“ Then I heard her accuse you of having deceived
her into the belief that my father was very rich and
would leave me a large fortune.

“She believing me an heiress had fawned upon

me.
“ Finding: me to be a poor irl, she hated me.
“ As an heiress, she Wish me to marry her son.
“As a pauper, she preferred that I should die

first.

“Still she wished you to get from me the little
money that my poor father did leave me. to cover
ppéshefézambling debts made by your son upon you
n m s.

‘JTThen she wished to cast me 01!.

“ You appealed to her in vain, for she threatened
to turn me off then unless you got my money from
me, and I. heard your reply.

K
i
4

 

 

seesaw, .i  .

4

-...éa¢.,......._..... owe

 

 

 

 

4..

, K“ -, . ——.~wm-<4. .0... .

A m prim (2',

.W 2-way

 

_Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

" It was to the effect that my father, and one other.
knew of an act of yours in earlier years that would
ruin you, and if you sent me off into the world alone,
friendless and a beggar, that other would hold you
to account for it.

“ This silenced her, and I was endured.

“ I held on to my money, made my arrangements,
and nowl leave you forever.

“Where lgo it matters not, but I will tell you that
I intend to avenge the death of my father.

“ Let your wife and daughters say that I have gone
to live with relatives in the States.

“ Let your son so believe also, and this will satisfy
those curious to know about me.

“ To you I say that I go alone into the world, and
am able to, take care of myself,

“To you, also, I will say that I intend to avenge
giylfather, and hold accountable the man who took

is l e. '

“ Again I thank you, and now bid you farewell.

‘ LL'LU DALE."

Such was the letter which Don Sebastian
read, and it filled him with amazement, shame
and sorrow, for at heart he was a good man.

Going into the mansion he read it to his wife,
and a scene followed, for Mrs. Brent hated to
give up the four thousand dollars which she

new Lulu had carried off with her.

“ The girl is mad 1” she cried.

“ Yes, she is mad, and should be cared for.”

“ Go, Don Sebastian, go at once and pursue
her and bring her back 1”

And Don Sebastian went, and with a score of
cowboys sought for her fur and wide.

But it was of no avail, for Lulu had covered
up her tracks too well.

But, though the Senora Brent had sent her.
husband after Lulu, she was not the woman to
leave a stone unturned to capture the girl, so
she at once sought one other to put upon the
trail of the fair fugitive.

Vll’ho that other is, the next chapter will re‘
voa .

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
MOTHER AND SON.

As has been hinted, Henrico Brent, the son
of Don Sebastian, was a very wild youth.

He had been reared with a fast lot, and ere
he had reached his twentieth year, he had be-
come an expert in gambling, while he had on
several occasions “shot his man.”

He was a handsome fellow, had pluck, was a
good rider, 9. crack shot, but loved dissipation
and a fast life.

The idol of his parents, he made them pay
while he danced, and had gotten his father into
financial trouble in helping him out of his debts.

His mother‘s dream had been that the fortune
of Lulu Dale would make all things even, and
hence she had ur ed that Henrico should make
her his wife, an for this purpose alone, for
the independent spirit of the girl had caused her
to dislike her.

It was a sore disappointment to Senora Brent,
therefore, when she found that Lulu was poor;
but four thousand dollars in cash was not to be
thrown away. and she therefore determined to
get it at all risks. _ .

The Don had started in pursuit of the girl, but
the senora did not believe that he would make
any mom to capture her,

 

21

So she determined to put one upon her trail
that would.

That one was her son, Henrico Brent.

She knew that a peon had brought the letter
to the Don, for he had told her so, and she knew
who that peon was, and she would use him in
furthering her plans.

She at once dispatched a messenger to the
town for her son, and upon his arrival, angry
at having been interrupted in a e of monte,
and flushed with wine, she ed him to her
room.

“ Well, mother why am I sent for in such
haste, he said in i ~hum01‘.

“ I Wlll tell you, Benrico, if you will sit
down.”

“ Well, I am down, and ready to hear; from
the messenger I learned I was to come home in
such haste, that I expected to find either you or
the Don dead.”

“No, I am well, as you see, and your father
has gone in search of a fugitive.”

“ A fugitive?”

“ Yes.’

“ Who do you mean?”

" One of our household ha: run 0E."

“ One of the slaves?”

H No.”

“ Who in the name of the saints is it,
mother?"

“Lulu.” '

The young man was upon his feet inan in-
stant, his face white, while he asked:

“Who has she gone with?”

“ Alone.” ‘

“ Ah! that is better, but she has gone to meet
some lover.”

“ This letter will explain all.”

He seized the letter and read it carefully
through.

Then said:

“ Mother, I loved that girl and would have
married her had she been the heiress we
thought, but, as it is, let her go.”

" No, no, my son.”

“ You do not want her back again?"

‘( No.”

“ What then?”

“ Her money.”

“ Bah! she has but a few thousand."

“ Are you aware that her few thousand will
save to us our home?"

“ hat, is it as bad as that?”
G‘ es.”

“ I thought the Don had plenty.”

“ He did have enough to live well on, but he
has mortgaged his estates heavily.”

“ What in thunder did he do that for?"

“ To pay your gambling debts, my son.”

“ Ah! I must have run in deep.”

“ You went in so deep that it five thousand
dollars are not paid within the week we will 10”
our home.”

“ Caramba/ is this so?”

“ It is.” ‘

H .

“ fig}, the Don has not got it to pay?"

“ Nor can raise it?”

“ He can raise but one thousand.”
, “ Then all must go.”

“ You forgot the girl's mop-y."

 

 

 

/

letter sent by Lulu Dale.

2% Dead-Shot Dandy's Double.

 

" How in the saints can I get that?”

“ I tell on that she has run off."

“ Well ’

“ She has it with her.”

“ And has gone.”

“ But she can be found.”

H How?”

“ I know the peou who was her guide, and his
son, who brought the letter, can be bribed to
take their trail.”

“ And then?"

“ You can get the money.”

“ Do you mean for me to take it from her by
force?”

“ Oh, you are so stupid, Henrico.”

“ 1 am your son, sweet mother.”

“ Well, are you willing to get the money it I
tell on how it can be done?"

“ es, it I do not have to harm the girl.”

“ Bah) what care you for her?”

“ I do not war on women.”

“No, but you can shoot a. man down without
any compunction of conscience, though you
shrink from takin a little gold from a. girl."

“I’ll take the go d if I do not have to harm
the irl.” ,

“ t is mine by right, for having cared for
her so lonlg and tenderly.”

“ Ohl guess you feathered your nest,
mother, out of the pin-money she got from
time to time, and her father did not forget you,
I remember.”

“ Silence, you impudent boy.”

“ I am dumb.”

“ Now I will tell you my plan."

“ And if I get the money?"

“ Say that you won it, and then we will pay
off the mortgage."

“ Allright, mother, you propose and I’ll dis-
pose, so go ahead with your plot.”

In a low tone the scheming woman then made
known her plot, and soon after Hem-loo Brent
left the hacienda alone, well-mounted and
armed, and wended his way to the humble
ranch of the peou whose son had brought the

 

CHAPTER XIX.
THE PLOT.

“ PEDRO, is your father at home?” asked Hen-
rico Brent, as he halted at the camp of the
n family, dwelling some miles from his
ome.
“ No, senor."
“ I am sorry, for I wished him to guide me to
a good huntiu -ground.” *

‘ I can gui e the senor,” answered the youth,
th0 was the some young peou who had brought
the letter from Lulu to Don Sebastian.

“ Ah! I am glad to kn0w that, for you will
do just as well; so get your pony.”

“ I will have to wait until my mother comes
back. Senor." /

“ Where is she?”

“ At the town.”

‘3 No, I have no time to wait. r

“ Is there no one else at the camp?"

“Only my little sister, senor,” and the boy
flog?! a child at eight, who was asleep in a

m.

“ Pedro, I wish to speak with you."

“ Yes, senor."

“ Do you see this purse?"

“ Yes, senor."

“ Here is fifty dollars, and if you tell me the
truth, I will give it to you.”

“ Oh, senor.”

“ I mean it."

“ I will talk straight, senor, ‘ said the delight-
ed boy, who had never dreamed of possessing so
much wealth. '

“ Where is your father?”

“ Gone on a hunt, senor.”

“ Not alone?”

The boy hesitated, and Henrioo Brent said:

“ Remember you are to tell‘the truth to get
the money.”

“Yes, senor.”

“ Did he go alone?”

“ No, senor."

“ Who went with him?"

“ A young senor.”

“ What?”

“ No, senor, it was the Senorita Lulu.”

“ You just said that it was a senor.”

“ She was dressed as a boy.”

“Ah! so far good.

“, Now, when did they start?"

“ In the night, senor.

“ From here?"

“ Yes, senor.”

" He was her guide!"

“ Yes, senor."

“ Where were they going?”

“ I do not know.”

“ Do you tell the truth?” '

‘ ‘ I do not know where the senorita was going.”

“But do you know how far your father was
going with her?” .

The boy was silent, and Henrico Brent held
the gold pieces before his eyes.

Still the boy 5 he not, and the tempter drop<
ped a twenty—do lar gold-piece.

“Pick that up, Pedro."

The boy obeyed, holding the gold lovingly in
his hand.

“ Now, Pedro, how far was your father to go
with her?”

“ To the old Mission beyond the river, senor.”

“ And no further?"

“No, senor."

“ Are you sure of this?”

“ Yes, senor, for the trail to the fort was open
from there.” »

“ And at what hour did they leave?"

“ An hour before dawn, senor." ,

“ Then they have a long start; but which trail
did they take?” .

“ The one leading southwest, senor.”

“ That does not take them to the old Mission,
Pedro.”

“ I know senor.”

" Then why did they take in"

“ To throw any pursuers oi! the scent, senor.”

" Ah! I see, and this will enable me to reach
the Mission ahead of them,” muttered Henrioo.

Then aloud he said: r

“ Pedro, can you keep a secret?”

“Y senor.”

 

I one to me.

“Why, you have just betrayed N! important

 

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Dead-Shot Dandy's Double. 23

 

The youth hung hishead, and said in a low
ne-

“ But you olfered me old, senor.”

“ Ah, yes, and for a fiarger olfer you would
betra me; but, Pedro, here is {Eur gold, and the
sum promisod you, so you (I better hide it
awa as soon as I have gone.

“ ow, if you do not tell any one that I have
been here, or asked you about your father and
the Senorita Lulu, I will give you as much more
one month from to-day.”

“ Ah, senor!”

“ l’S’ut if you betray me, I will not give it to

on.

“ The senorita and father did not know I
heard the talk, senor.”

“ Ab! and she paid him well as a guide?”

“ She ave him fifty dollars, senor.”

“ We] , you will get fifty more in one month,
if on do not betray me; and, Pedro~”

‘ Senor?”

“If you do, I shall kill you.”

” I will not betray you, senor.”

“ See that you no not.”

“ All right. senor.”

With this, Henrico Brent wheeled his horse
and rode awa at a sweeping gallop.

He held rig t out upon the rairies, where he
knew some miles away his fat or had a herd of
cattle, with several herders watching them.

At last he spied the herd, and a cowboy

ucame riding toward him.

“,yVell, Dan, you are the very man I came to

“How can I serve you, Henrioo?" asked the
cowboy, who was a young man with a reckless
fuse, by no means prepossessing.

“Dan, you have not forgotten that little at-
fair in which Ifound you in the timber one
day, bending over the tax-gatherer, whom you
had ?killed, hoping to find upon him a large
sum ~

“Henrioo, wh do you speak of that, after
you have tree me so well for a your past and
never referred to itl” said the cowboy, turning

pale.

“ Because I wish you to remember that I have
not forgotten it.”

“ I almost hoped that you had.”

“ N 0, Dan, I could hang you on that; but I
want on to do me a favor and keep your mouth
shut a ut it."

“ I will, Henrico.”

“ You knew the nearest way to the old Mis-
sion some leagues beyond the river!”

It Yes.” .

“ Your horse is fresh?”

H He is.”

“ Where are the other cowboys?"

“ 0t! after game.”

“,YVell, I want you to go to the Mission with
me. »

“ Now?”

I: Yes.”

“And I do not wish you to member that
you have been there.”

“ All right, Henrico, I will do as you say; but
what is up?”

“ There is a party I expect to upset there, and
I may need your aid, 90 I wish you to be
along."

I .

 

“All right, I am with you,” and the two
worthies started ofl' together to carry out the
plot against poor Lulu.

 

CHAPTER XX.
run AFFAIR AT THE om MISSION.

“ WELL, Antone, you say that we will see the
Mission soon?"

“ Yea, senorita, as soon as we rise yonder roll
in the rairie.”

The rst speaker was Lulu Dale, disguised as
a outh, and well-armed and mounted.

he one she addressed was an old peon, '
mounted upon a sorry-looking pony, but one
that was far better than he looked.

It was several hours before sunset, and their
course lay northwest, while they were follow-
ing no trail, but striking across the prairie to- V
Ward 8. given point.

A ride of a few hundred yards further, and
they ascended the rise of the prairie, from
which, as old Antone had said, they would have
a view of the ruined Mission.

Before them a mile away was the river, and
on its banks a. league distant was the ruin.

“ Ab! there is the place, and 1 will camp
there to-night ” said Lulu.

“ You are plucky, senorita, for few men dare
halt there. as they say the place is haunted by
ghosts of dead padres and nuns.”

“ So much the better, Antone, for I will not
have the living to fear.

“ But I am glad that we changed our course,
and did not make the big circuit to the south.
for I am sure that we have no pursuers upon
our track." '

“ I think we have covered our trail well,
senorita."

“ And you return the same wayto your home,
Antone, and here is a piece of gold each for
your squaw, boy, and pappooses.”

“ But, I am not to go back now, senorital’"

“ Yes, Antone, for I can go on alone.”

“You have paid me well enough, senorita, to
go all the way with you.”

“ No, I prefer to 0 alone, and remember to
say nothing about w ere I have gone.”

‘ I will not betray you, senorita.”

“ I believe you, Antone; now good-by.”

She grasped the rough hand of the peon, and
then rode down toward the river, approaching
the Mission from the other side, “hi 6 Antone
returned slowly toward his home, following the
trail he had come.

Arriving near the old ruin, Lulu looked at-

~ tentively before her, to see if it contained any

living being.

But seeing a coyote dash out n 11 her ap-
proach, she was confident that she ad nothin
more to fear, and that it would not be there i
human beings Were about.

Riding into the room she found a good place
for her horse, and so staked him out in a seclud-
ed wing, near which was the old chapel, where
she determined to spend the night herself.

Then she strolled out to t some piece of
wood to make a fire, and one her supper.

As she passed through a mined arch, she saw
gar out upon the prairie two horsemen appmclr
mg. -

 

 

 

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v. a. '1.m.w.s «who. 0.. :4}:an «a.

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24 Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double.

 

Instantly she sought a good place of observa-
tion and gazed attentively at them.

“ ’I‘hey are cowboys, I think,” she said.

“ They are looking upon the prairie as thou h
searching for a trail, and they come from a i—
rection in which I may look for pursuers, if
they only knew I came this way."

Attentively she watched the two horsemen as
they drew nearer, and then her face suddenly
paler], as she said:

. “ The Virgin forbid! it is Henrico Brent, and
Dan. the Cowboy.

“ Yes, I know they have had some inkling as

to which way I have taken, and are in chase of

me. ~

“ But it will take better men than are you
two, to carry me back,” and she hastily sought
a hiding-place.

Scan after Henrico Brent and his ally, Cow—
boy Dan, rode into the old ruin, glancing anx-
iously about them, for they had heard the weird
stories told of the place, and did‘not like the
locality with night coming on.

“ She has not arrived yet, Dan," said Henrico,
and Lulu, who was not thirty paces from him,
hetird his words.

“I hope she’ll come soon, for I don’t like this
place at ni ht.”

“ If she oes not come by sunset, we need not
expect her until to-niorrow.”

“ Then we will go out on the prairie and
camp, for I don’t wish to stay here.’

“ All right, Dan, for I am willing, as I don’t
like the old tomb myself.”

“ What do you intend to do with her, Henrt
co, when you catch her?”

“ She stole four thousand dollars of my mo-
ther's money, and I intend to take it from her.

“ After I get that I will turn her loose, and let
her go her way.”

“ She’ll show fight, for I know her.”

“ She may, but we’ll have the drop on her
and the peon too; but, as he is along, Dan, I do
not wish to be known as coming after the girl
to get the money, so I have brought these two
disguises for us."

“ What are they?”

“ False beards which I have worn at masked
fandangoes, and Mexican dresses.

“ No one would know us with these on."

“ I know you, Henrico Brent, and I have the
drop on you coward that you are.”

With a yell the two men sprung to their feet,
and drawing his revolver Cowboy Dan fired at
random.

But with the second shot there mingled an-
other, and the cowboy drop (1 dead.

“ Holdl move and I wi 1 kill you, Henrico
Brent,” and Lulu covered him with her still
smoking pistol.

As for Henrico Brent, he was so intensely
surprised that he seemed dazed and stood with
his arms hanging listlessly by his side, his face
the picture of horror.

“ Coward, you came after me to rob me, and
upon your head- be that man’s life, for I was
compelled to kill him, seeing that he was mad

v ' with fright.

“ As for you, I spare you; but, not wishing to
be, tracked and 'murdered, I will deprive you of
the nioer 9t. domg me harm," ’

With this Lulu boldly stepped forward and
disarmed the man, who offered no resistance.

“ Your horse and the pony of Cowboy Dan I
will carry with me, releasing them when I see
fit, and they will probably return home: but
you will have to walk back.

“ N 0w, sir, as you caused that man’s death,
dig his grave.

“ Here is your knife, so lose no time."

“ But, Lulu—~”

“ Silencel and to work digging a grave for
that man or I will kill you as would a co-
yotel”

He saw that she was in earnest, and he set to
wort‘jlg with a will, digging a grave in the soft
ear .

She stood over him until the body was placed
in it, and the grave filled in, and then she said
sternly:

“ Now, Henrico Brent, you start for home.”

“ Give me my horse!” he sullenly said.

“I will give you a bullet in your brain it you
sto to parley.”

e muttered a curse, and turning, left the
ruin.

She watched him until he was some distance
ofl’, and then, mounting her horse and leading
the other two, pressed rapidly on across the
prairies.

Until midnight she held on her way, and then
she turned the two led horses loose, and went
into camp in a clump of timber, to take the rest
she and her pony so much needed, while she
smiled grimly at the thought that the man who
had attempted to rob her was trudging along on
foot over the dark prairies.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
DEAD sno'r DANDY TO THE RESCUE.

I LEFT Dead Shot Dandy sitting upon the
back of his matchless black horse, just in the
edge of the Chaparral.

His keen ears had caught the sound of heat-
strokes upon the prairie.

Listening attentively, he soon discerned that
they were coming toward where he then was.

- His practiced ear told him that there were
less'than half a dozen in all, and he said, quiet-

1y.

“ With this chaparral at my back, and which
I know as I do my own cabin, there is nothing
for me to fear.

“ So I will wait."

This he did for awhile, and then his keen sense
of hearing and skill as a prairieman caused him
to make another discovery.

“ There is one horse in advance of the others,”
be said.’

“ Yes, it is a chase. .

“ What can it mean?”

Awhile longer he waited, and then he con.
tinned:

“Perhaps Benito has been accused of aiding
my escape. and has had to fly.

“ If so, I’ll check his ursuers."

Nearer and nearer t e horsemen came, and
again Dead Shot spoke aloud:

 

“ That leading horse is shod. and. the others
are not. ' ' ' i

 

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Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double. 28

“From the strokes there are four animals in
pursuit, and I will give their riders a surprise.”

A moment after there dashed into view a
single horseman.

And then, just as the shadowy outlines of the
others came in view, the leading horse went
down from a shot fired by one of the pursuers.

There wasa cry as the animal went down,
and a ell followed.

“ In iansl”

The word broke from the lips of Dead Shot,
and then the noble black shot out from the
shadows of the chaparral.

Straight at the pursuers he went, and there
followed a hurried checking of steeds on their
parts, a flying of hastily fired arrows, a shot or
two, and then the rattle of Dead Shot Dandy’s
revolver.

Four times its trigger was pulled, four dis-

, tinct ringing shots were heard, and as many

ponies were running riderless over the prairie.

Drawing up by the side of the fu itive, Dead
Shot found him pinned beneath his allen horse,
which had been killed by a shot from the In-
dian. -

“Are you hurt, my friend?” he asked, in
kindl tones. '

“ es, [ em wounded with an arrow, and my
leg is injured, though I do not think ' it is
broken.

“ But I suffer greatly.”

The reply came in a soft, almost childish
voice, and end Shot looked closely in the face
of the speaker.

Then he took hold of the fallen horse and
with an effort of his great stren h, raised him
from off the leg of his rider, w 0 said with a
sigh of relief:

(I. ‘There, now I suffer less, but I feel very
izzy.

“You saved my life, didn’t you, and killed
those four Indians?

“ Were you hurt?"

“ Oh, no; but where were gin going?”

“ I was going to—I don’t lieve I remember,
this arrow hurts me so—and—ohl I feel so
strange.”

“By Jove! the arrow is still sticking in his
shoulder, and his strange manner leads me to
fear it was poisoned," mused the scout.

Then he quickly drew the arrow from the
wound and said: ,

“ Come, my young friend, you must be cared

or.

“ I will take you to the fort with all haste."

Raising the slender form in his strong arms
Dead Shot Dandy quickly mounted Night
Hawk, and set 01! at a gallop tor the fort, as
the random talking of the one he had rescued
proved to him that he was rapidly becoming
delirious. and convinced him that the arrow had
been poisoned.

“Come, Night Hawk, you have no time to
lose, it you wish to save a life,” cried Dead Shot

and .

Seefnlnzly understanding the words of his
master, Night Hawk sped on like the wind, little

‘ caring for the double weight he carried.

At last the lights of the fort appeared in
Bight, and straight toward the main entrance
Dead Shot Dandy headed.

 

He saw that his escape had been discovered,
from the excitement he heard within the stock
ude, and the flashing of lights within the camps
beyond.

“ I may have a 1 hadron of cavalry after me
in a minute or tuo,’ he muttered.

But boldly he dashed up near the gateway
and said in ringing tones, as he drew his horse
down to a halt:

“Ho, the sentinel!”

“ Ay, ay, what is it?” cried the sentinel on
duty, turning quickly toward him.

“ I have here a young man, who has been se-
verely wounded by Indians, with a poisoned
arrow.

“Send out for him at once, for he needs the
surgeon’s care!”

“ Brin him here, while I call the corporal of
tho guar ,” was the answer of the lieutenant.

“No, I will place him here on the prairie,
and you can send after him.

“ Then tell Colonel Du Barry that he will find
the young man’s saddle and bridle on his dead
horse, near the old encampment at the Chapar—
rals.

“Who are you?” called out the corporal of
the ard, who had now joined the sentinel.

“ on will also find there four Indians that I
killed as they were pursuing this boy,” con—
tinued Dead Shot, unheeding the question of the
corpora].

Dismounting, he gently laid the wounded
youth, for such he appeared to be, down upon
the , and sprung again into his saddle.

“ have left him here for you.

“ Lose no time it you would save his life.”

“ Who are you?” again called out the corpo-

ral.

“II am Dead Shot Dandy!" was the ringing
rep y.

Then, amid the exclamations that followed
this startling announcement, the daring horse-
man wheeled and darted away like the wind.

“ Fire!”

. The cry came from the startled cor
soon as he could collect his senses, an
tered volley of musketry followed.

But the bullets flew wild of the flying rider
as he sped like a rocket over the prairies, leav-
ing excitement and confusion behind him in
spite of its being a. well-disciplined military
camp. '

ral, as
a seat-

 

CHAPTER XXII.
A Mann'an DISCOVERY.

THAT the sentinel was startled b the bail
that saluted him, from out upon t e prairie
there was no doubt.

He had been more interested with the excite-
ment within the Stockade, than in looking for
danger outside. and the ringing voice of Dead
Shot Dandy quickly brought him to a realizing
sense of his duties.

When he had aroused the corporal of
the guard, that important personage did
not cage to advanlce [and see 30 it wrzzdont
upon t e prairie un ass 6 was w su po 03‘
afioldi‘ers, and these were quickly callgd to the
ten .

 

 

 

 

 

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26'

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Dead-Shot Dandy‘s Double.

 

 

The form of a horse and rider could be seen
through the darkness, it. was true.

But were there not more hidden from view in
the prairie grass further out?

The corporal summoned the sergeant, and
then a skirmish line was thrown out and ad—
vanced rapidly when the startling information
came from the lips of Dead Shot as to who he
was.

In his surprise, that the very cause of the ex—
citement within the fort should then be quietly
hailing from Without, the sergeant gave the
order to fire.

But the shots flew wild, and the daring scout
dashed away unharmed.

pen the grass, tossing as in delirium and
talkinv incoherently, the soldiers found the
wounded youth.

Quickly they raised him in their strong arms
and bore him gently into the fort, carrying him

directly to headquarters, where Colonel Du

Barry sat alone with his daughter, having just
dismissed those who had been congregated there
after the discovery of'thescout’s escape.

“ What is it, Fielding?” said the colonel,
anxiously. fearing that some oflicer had been
hurt or killed, for he had heard the shots fired
at Dead Shot Dandy as he rode away.

“ A young man, yer Honor.”

“ What young man, sergeant?”

“ I am not after knowing, sir."

" Is he dead?"

“ No, sir, but he's in a bad way, and be looked
so young and innocent I was after telling the
men to bring him straight to you, sir.”

By this time the four soldiers arrived with
their load, and the form was laid upon a
lounge.

1 1‘ Quick, call Surgeon Oteyl” cried the colo-
ne .

“ 0‘1, father! what a strangely-handsome
face,” said Marie, as she bent over the youth.

It was indeed a beautiful face, flushed now
with exaitement and coming fever, and with
eyes unnaturally bright.

The form was slender and clad in a corduroy
suit, with top-boots. and sombrero drawn down
tight upon the forehead.

About the slender waist was a belt with a
bowie-knife and two revolvers, and one hand
clasped something closely that was in an inner
breast-pocket.

“ Where did you find this youth, sergeant?”
asked the colonel, as that ofl‘lcer returned and
reported:

‘ The surgeon is after coming at once, sir.”

“I found him out on the prairie, sir, where

I that terror of a man left him, sir."

“ What terror of a man, Fielding?”

“ Dead Shot, to be sure, sir."

“ Dead Shot?”

“Yes. sir.’

“ Sergeant, tell me just how this poor youth
came into your hands.”

In a few words the sergeant told all that he
had heard from the sentinel and corporal, and
just what had been said by the scout nbout the
youth having been wounded with a poisoned ur—
row ‘

“It is remarkable'that Dead Shot should

have brought him right to the very stockade,

 

when he knows that we were all aroused by his

esca .

“Eat it is just like the man, and pursuit
would be useless, for my Whole command could
not catch him now if he was mounted as you
say, sergeant."

“Oh! he’s mounted, sir, and on a horse that
went off like the wind, sir.”

“Poor boy,” and the colonel turned again to
the youth, while he added:

” It is this poisoned arrow wound that has
thrown him into delirium.

“ I only‘hope that Otey will be able to save
him.

“There seems some strange mystery in this,
that Dead Shot Dandy should bring to the fort
another boy.”

“It is strange, father, and I wonder where
he could have found the youth?” said Marie.

“ Out upon the prairies somewhere, as he was
escaping.

“ nd doubtless be rescued him from deadly
danger, for it would be just like that remarka-
ble man.

“ Ah! there is Otey now.”

The surgeon just then entered and the colonel
said quickly:

“ Oiey, here is a youth, brought to the stock-
ade gate by that strange fellow, Dead Shot
Dand , not three hours after his esca .

“ B}; reported to the sentinel that t 8 boy had
been wounded by Indians, and With a poxscned
arrow, so I at once sent for you.”

Surgeon Otey was a kind-hearted man, and
said gently: ,

“ Poor fellow !" as he laid his fingers upon the
throbbing pulse.

Then he took the hand from the inner breast-
Pocket, and saw that it grasped a wallet 0!
nether.

“ You had better take this. sir, for it contains
money,” said the surgeon.

“ Send Paymaster Leighton here, orderly,"
called out the colonel, while he added: “ I will
give it into his charge."

The surgeon then bent over the boy, glanced
at the wound, and then again eyed the youth
closelv.

“ Well, Obey, .what are his chances!” "

“ Her chances are fair, I hope, sir.”

“ Her I” cried Colonel Du Barry, in surprise,
While Marie started forward.

“"Yes, sir, for that is nota youth, but a maid‘
en.

Amid the exclamations of surprise that fol-
lowed, Paymaster Leighton entered the room,
and as his eyes fell upon the face of the one
who lay upon the loan 9, he cried!

“ What! Miss Dale ere, and ill?"

“ Miss Dale?”

“ Yea. 90101191: 110. it is a youth; but no—l
am right. it is Lulu Dale, thedaughtero! Bronze
Bill. for I know her in spite of her male attire
and short hair." cried the lieutenant, excitedly.

“ Surgeon Otey, take the
room. and I will be her nurse, said Marie Du
Barry, and her wish was at once obeyed.

CHAPTER XXIII.
run srmrr MESSENGER.
As soon as he felt that poor Lulu was in note

 

A.»

’poor girl to my\-<

 

-* 'L‘g»

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

"W .-:M

 

 

"‘ When...»

 

  
 

.

Dead-Shot Dandy’s Double. 2"

 

hands, Colonel Du Barry determined to take
steps to try and capture Dead Shot Dandy,
though he had little hope of doing so, and knew
that the undertaking was a great one.

Still, if he did not make every efforttore~
capture him, the men would think that as his
daughter had released him. he had connived at
his escape, for the oolonel’s friendship for the
scout was well known.

Still he believed Dead Shot Dandyto have

I been a traitor, and guilty of the charges made

against him. and for which he had been con-
demned to death.

To carry out his plan he was about to send
for Lieutenant Lancaster, when Captain Cecil
Lorne entered the room.

He still were his wounded arm in a sling, yet
seemed not to sufl’er, and said romptly:

“I will report for duty, olonel Du Barry,
istyou,desire to send a party in chase of Dead

hot.

“I was just about to send for Lancaster,
and ask him to go; but are you well enough,
Lorne?”

“ Oh, yes, sir!”

“ You know that I did not intend to pursuex
him until morning, knowing that it would be
useless to turn the men out tie-night?”

“Yes, sir, so you decided."

“ But now, as he has come to our very gates,
and left that wounded gi'r1—’7

“ Leighton just told me, sir, who she was.”

“ Yes, and she was brought here by Dead
Shot, who so a that her dead horse and traps,
with”tour -skins that he has killed lie there

“ So I heard, sir.”

“Well, I will send Lancaster and a few men
there to see about that, while, if you really
wish to go upon this expedition, you can order
out sixty men—”

“ So large a force, sir?”

“Yes. I wish you to take sixty troopers and
fifteen scouts, for my desire is to have you
strike the trail of Dead Shot, and follow it di-
rectl to the rendezvous of the Marauders.”

“ good idea, sir, so that the question can be
settled at once as to whether he is their chief or
not.
“ As to that. I feel that he is' but I desire to
gal? this determined eflort to break up the

n .

“Now. you had better give orders  get
ack-horses ready, ,with ten days’ provision at
east, and start as soon as you can do so,”

“ I will get of! within an hour, sir,” and
Cecil Lorne left the room.

“Orderly, send Keno Kit to me,” called out
the colonel.

That worth soon arrived.

“ Waal, col no], I are here.” '

“ I wish you to go with Captain Lorne upon
a scouting expedition.”

“ Monte are already flxin" for that leetle
rackit, ool‘nel.”

“ Go and tell Monte that my orders are that

on go.” -
“ That settles it. sir, an’ thanks.” .
“Then select fifteen of your best men, pick

 

your horses and be ready at the earliest mo-
ment."

‘7.

“ I’ll do it.” .

“ Now go and tell Monte and give your orders
and return to me here.”

The scout disappeared, and a moment after
Captain Lorne entered.

” All are nearly ready, sir, and I sent Lan-
caster after the bodies,” he reported. '

“ Then await his return,‘ please, before you
start." ,

“ Yes sir.”

“ And. Lorne, let me request, if you come up '
with Dead Shot, that you give orders to fire
upon him, for I would rather have him killed
that way than to have‘to execute him here.

“ But, of course do not let it be suspected
that I have such intention.”

“ Certainly not, Colonel Du Barry, and I will
obey Eur orders, for I would rather have Dead
Shot lled in battle than have to see him exe
outed.”

Just then Keno Kit returned and reported:

"‘ Col’iiel, I hev give my orders, an' Monte
kicked like a mule about it, but in course it
don’t do him no good."

“ I will stand no nonsense from that man,
Keno Kit.

“And now let me tell you that, if you get the
opportunity, it would be better to shoot Dead
(si‘hot on the field than to bring him back here to

ie.

“ Yes, col’nel, yer head are level thar."

“Now, where is Benito?” _

“ Thet Boy Bugler are tunin’ up his horn, an’
rubbin’ up his weepins ter go along, too.”

“ Do you wish him, Lorne?"

“ Indeed I do, sir, though I_ gave him no
orders to go."

“ The young scamp would have skipped oil
and taken the chances of my displeasure.

“ But let him gop— Ahl here is Lancaster!"

_The lieutenant entered, and a soldier followed
him bearing a saddle and bridle of the Mexican
pattern, and superny mounted.

“ I found the dead horse, sir, and took these
from him,” he said.

“ And the Indians?”

“ Lag there dead, air, and Driscoll, the scout,
seal them.

“ hey were Comanches, and we caught their
ponies, Sir.”

, “You saw no trace of Dead Shot Dandy!" ,

“None, sir, and the sentinel said that he went
toltlie northward, and not toward the chops:-
ra .

“ Thank you, Lancaster," and turning to Cap«
tain Lorne, the colonel continued:

“ Now, ca tain. you can get off as soon as you
wish, and I ope to have a and report from you.
“ If on can strike a low at any Indian
stamp.” 0 so, and it you need more men send for
em.

The young officer thanked his superior and
left the room. and found his men mustered and
ready. with Benito keeping out of sight.

“ Where is the Boy Bugler?” he asked, amuséd
at Benito’s desire to slip 01! with him, for fear
the colonel might not let him go. i

“ I am_here, sir," and Benito came forward.

“ All right. Benito. you with me.”

“Thank you, sir,” an the boy’s bugle at ‘

 

 

 

 

23 , Dead-Shot Dahdy's pantie;

 

once broke forth. in a ringing strain as the
tro'ccirpers wound out of the fort.
ith the first dawn of day the scouts went to

work looking for Dead Shot’s trail, and almost
instantly Keno Kit hit upon tracks of a single
horse.

" Did you come this way, Boy Boogler, when
ye‘i; was’wild—horse huntin’?" he asked.

“ Waal, these tracks is made by that black 0’
Dead'Shot’s, fer I knows ’em well.”

“ The animal was not at the old encampment,
for I went with Lieutenant Lancaster, and he
was one," whis red Benito to the scout.

“ hen Dead _ hot has found his own horse
wandering about,” said Captain Lorne.

“ Yas, cap’n, it do look that way.

“Ef yer calls a halt fer breakfast, an’ gives
me a couple 0’ horses, I’ll jist tell yer whar this
trail comes from an’ all about it.”

This was at once done, and Keno Kit started
upon the back trail, while the soldiers cooked
their morning meal and lay down to rest in the
shelter of a grove of timber.

Keno Kit took the trail back to the old en—
campment, followed it from there to the spot
where Dead Shot had placed the wounded girl,
Lulu, upon the prairie near the fort, and, with-
out a word to those who called out to him from
the smckade and watched his movements, he
went off on a gallop in the direction which the
scout had taken.

He reached the command just as Captain
Lorne was becoming anxious about him, for his
two hours had reached up to noon.

An hour's rest, however, was all that he
wanted for himself and horse, and then he led
the command on at a rapid pace, following the
trail with the same unerring instinct that n
hound would have shown.

At night a halt was called in the foot-hills.
and the party went into camp just where Dead

Shot he done the same, for his fire was still
burning where he had cooked his breakfast, and
doubtless passed the greater part of the day in
rest.

The sentinels were at once placed, for the

I Indian country was not far away, and the
soldiers sought rest, well knowing that hardships
were before them.

Around the headquarter camp-fire sat Cecil
Lorne, Benito, Keno Kit and several officers,
who comprised the captain’s mess while upon
the march.

They were discussing the probable route taken
by Dead Shot. and where the camp of the Ma~
renders would be most likely found, when sud-
denly there was a whirrin sound, a sharp thud,
and an arrow stuck quiver n in the tree against
which Captain Lorne was caning, and not a
foot above his head.

All started to their feet, but Keno Kit quickly
drew from the arrow a piece of paper, with the
quiet remark:

“This are a leetle bizziness note, I guesses,

on ’n.”

Buickly the piece of pa er, which had been
wrapped around the h of the arrow, was
seized and unfolded by Cecil Lorne.

Upon it, written in lead pencil, was the
tolltming, and he read it aloud:

“ CAPTAIN CECIL Loans:—

_ “ SIR:~— I have to inform you that you have gone
into camp within two leagues of a camp of two him-
dred Comanche warriors, who are on the war- path
to avasnge your attacks against their villages.

“Their scouts saw you go into camp. as I did, and
they intend attacking you in one grand charge just
before dawn.

“ I crept up to their guard, killed him, and heard
their plot, and send you this silent messenger of
warning with his bow and arrow.

“The camp of the Indians is in Mustang Gor e,
which Keno Kit, whom I see seated by your si e,
knows well.

“ My advice is to attack from the South and you
thug pen the red-skins in among the walls of
roc s.

“ Let your scouts attack by firing upon their
camp, then half of your troopers charge, and the
remainder follow in two separate bodies, sons to
give an idea of greater strength than you have,

“ I have killed. as I said, the Indian sentinel on_the
left, and I will now go and send the one on the right
to join him in the Happ Hunting—Grounds. so that
you will have do difflcu ty in surprising the entire

and, and with sharp work can give them a lesson
that will be remembered,

“Pardon in advice. but I know the ground and
the force you ave to attack.

“ With respect,
“ Duke Decatur.

“ Well, this is remarkable,” said Captain
Lorne.

“No, it are jist like Dead Shot, an’he jist
creeped in atween them blind sent’nels an’
shooted this arrer right inter our midst," said
Keno Kit.

" You know the Mustang .GorgehKeno Kit?”

“ Waal, I does, cap’n,-au’ it are Just as Dead
Shot says."

“Then we will move at once, and you scout
on ahead to see if all is right.”

“ 1’“ do it.”

“ Will you trust that man, sir?” asked one of
the officers.

“ Assuredly, Mercer; why not?”

“I feared he might lead you into a trap”.

“Oh, no; I’ll trust him,” was the confident
answer, and ten minutes after the whole cum-
mand were moving to attack upon those, who,
some hours later expected to surprise the
soldiers and hang their scalps at their belts.

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
CONCLusios.‘

Tm: surprise of the Indians was complete for
the troopers got into their camp, as Dead Shot
had removed the two redskin sentinels before
their presence was suspected.

Sleeping soundly they were dreaming of red
trophies to be secured with the dawn, and were
awakened by a volley that killed a score of
them. ' .

Another volley ted them as theiesiprung
to their feet. and t en the tree rs das into
close quarters with their revo vers, and half a
hundred warriors had bittén, the dust before a
sin le scout or soldier had fallen.

emmed in, the red-skins stood at be ; but
many were armed only with lances, not ving

 

the time to seize their bows and arrows.

w

“ The Dead Shot Dandy." .

N...“ “mews... men‘s 

; xwuflnfllkflwfl

.?

will g:‘4'»t< m

.... m... was...

.........-- --; czr‘w --

. .._.. ... .,.. bk .4.

....s..‘«..,.

 

   

Dead-shot Dandy’s Double.

 

 

and they fell before the unerring aim of their

oes.

At last a few made a grand rush, and broke
through the line, flying to the mountains.

But their ponies were left behind, and half of
the red band lay dead or dying 1n Mustang

or e.

Thgus was the victory complete for the sol-
diers, and Captain Cecil Lorne congratulated
himself over his triumph, though he had lost an
officer, two non-commisswned ofi'icers killed, and
several soldiers and scouts killed, and had a.
score of wounded men to hear back to the fort.

Throu h the fight Keno Kit and Benito, the
Boy Bug er, had been the most conspicuous for
their daring, and were complimented by Cecil
Lorne in the highest terms.

After the dead were buried, and the wounded
doctored up as well as possible by the assistant
surgeon of the fort, the command started on its
waly back, oin by slow and easy stages.

he Boy ug er and Keno Kit had been sent
on ahead to report the battle, and have ambu—
lances sent to meet the wounded, and their ar-
rival with the news was greeted with ringing
cheers.

“ Of course Lorne gave up all idea of pursu-
ing Dead Shot?" said Colonel Du Barry, when
‘Benito had made his report.

“ Oh, yes, sir, and Dead Shot’s ride was
cracking through the whole fight.”

“ VVhatl did he 'oin you?”

“ No, sir but e hung about in thickets,
watching his chances and picked off the red-
skins, for as soon as the men charged he lighted
several fires which he had ready, and made all
as bright as day."

“ If that man came in and surrendered now I
would pardon him," said the'oolonel.

“ I wish he would come, sir; but he deserves
firdon, for he saved the life of Captain

me.” '

“Ah! how was that, Benito?”

“ He killed an Indian who was about to run
him through the body with a lance, when the
captain’s horse was shot and fell upon him.”

‘Then I shall post notices on the different
trails, promising pardon to Dead Shot if he
will come in and surrender, and pledge himself
to give up his marauding band,” said the colo-
nel earnestly.

And such placards were written and posted
up here and there.

But weeks passed and Dead Shot did not
surrender.

V But, on the contrary, the Marauders of the
Rio Grande became daily more daring, until the
entire force at the fort was kept busy trying ta
capture them and prevent their depredations
upon settlers, aiust trains, and sometimes
upon the stock 0 the fort itself.

At the head of his Masked Marauders, mount—

’ ed upon his superb black steed, and wearing no

mask, was frequently seen Dead Shot Dandy,
but whom Benito, Keho Kit and Marie Du
Bar insisted upon saying was not the scout,
but , ad Shot Dandy’s Double.

As for Lulu Dale, under the skillful care of
Surfieon Dalton Otey, and the skillful nursing
0f aria, she soon rallied, .and the colonel
told her that she should remain at the fort as

his adopted daughter, and the lonely girl seem-
ed most glad to do so, for there she found only
kindness from those whom she knew to be true
friends.

Thus life glided by to those who have been
characters in my romance, some happy. some
sorrowful, amid the wild scenes in which their
destinies had cast them, upon the far border of
the Lone Star State.

THE END.

 

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BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY.

 

71 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of s Wendie-
Boy. By J. Alexander Patten.

H TheLionoftheSea: or, nevmlndydhl
Tropes. By Albert W. Aiken.

73 Phowwh Phil. the Boy Sleuth; or. Rosebud
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14 Picayune Pete- or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detee-
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75 Island Jim; or, The Pet of the Family. By
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76 Watch-Eye. the Shadow. By E L Wheeler. V

77 Dick Dead—By the Sm lee. B Colonel
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18 Desdwood Diek‘l Device- or, The Sign o! the
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I) Old Frosty. the Guide. By T. C. Herb-ugh.

81 The SeeVi r; or, The Midehi man‘s Legncy.
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I ISainthmflonee- or, The Captivu ed the Frontier.

1

8. Ellis.
he Canada the Counterioiter Chine m.
.031" 3!

HTheDumh e:or,TheDoge'sDa hter. B
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5 The Bo Minen; or, The Enchanted island. By
ldw S. Ellia

I Jack Barknway in New York. By Brseebridge
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lDeadwood Dick in Leadville' or A Strsng
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Oil The Ocean Bloodhound; or, the Bed Pirates of
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flPhilHardthe Bose Bo :or.The Mystery of
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94 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.

we Buck Buckram; or, Been the Female Trapper.
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N Gfltldged Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler.

WgeBlaekSteedottbePrairlea ByJamesL.

wen.

Q The Sea Serpent; or. The Boy Robinson Crusoe.
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99 Bonanza B the Man Tracker; or, the Secret
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[00 gatn'i‘odd‘ or, The Fate oi the Sioux Captive.
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DaringDe .theYaun BearKiller:or,The
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we Handsome Harry, the Bootblnck may. By
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101

, we nght-Hawk Kit: or. The Daughter at the Ranch.
, r.

By Joeeph E. Budger J
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»

 

Rocky Mountain Kit, the White Mustang .
T. C. Harbaugh. or B,

“The Branded Hand;or,The Ii s!
By mink D'mont. " 3mm"

110 The Dread Rider; or The Tenn Duelist.
George W. Browne. ’ B,

111 BoaeBo the Ki of 300th
L. Whee‘l’er. n“ By Edward

ill The Helpless Band. By Cept. Mayne Reid.
113 Scar-Faced Saul, the Silent Hunter. By Oll
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ill Pinni- Paul, the Mountain Boy. By T. 0. Her
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lit Deadwood Dia‘s Donble- or. The Ghost of Go -
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116 Jabee Comn. Skip r' or, Inst in tb Polar
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117 Fen Frank of Colorado- or, The Trs per.
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118 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughbred: or, The Win-
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119 Bionde Bill- or, Deadwood Dick's Home Base.
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120 Gopher mm the Boy Trapper. By T. C. Ear-
Mush.

in Harry Armstrong, the Captain of the Club. By
Braeebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkavay).

12! The Huuted Hunter or, The Strange Horseman
ofthe Prairie. By wardS.Ellis. '

ill Solid Sam, the Boy Bead-Agent. By Edward L
Wheeler.

13! Judge Lynch, Jr.; or, The Boy Vigilante. By T.
C. Barbaugh.

1! The Land Plrates- or. The league or Devil'g

Island. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
Bl : or The Brook 0' be. so 1

1” $3311  By Frank Dumont. ’ y. 0

1171' F0 the? -orBoesBob'sBossJob.
33" "in m. ' ~

in: Will Wildfire'sReoer; or, Winning Against Odds.
By Charles Moms.

129 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. By 011 Coomee.

130 Gold Tri er, the Sport; or, The Girl Avengers.
By T. C. arbaugh.

m A Game of Gold' or Deadwood Dick‘s
Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. Bk

m Dainty Lance. the Boy Sport. By Joseph 3.
Badger. Jr.

is! Wild-fire, theBoss o! the Road. By Frank Dn-
mont.

184 Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. 3, on“
Merrie. /

ood Dick 0! Dea'wmd; or. The Picked
“5 335,? By mm 1.. Wheeler.
136 Old Bube. the Hunter. By Capt. Hamilton
Holmes.
137 Dunn, Rock, the Man tron: Texas. By G.
Waldo Browne.
m Bob Beckett, the Boy Dodger. By Chen. Morris.
139 The Black Giant: or Dainty Lance in Jeopardy.
By Joe. B. . j r

140 Captain Arizona, the King Pin offloadisents.
By Philip S. Werne.

II New York Nell, the Boy—Girl Detective. By
E. L. Wheelu.

142 Little Texas. the Young Hummer. By on
Coomes. ‘

Deadzbaeh: ,Flzhtinzl'lrewithm
“In 3.638.055 B,

 

m.»

 

 

 

 

 

BEADLE’B POCKET LIBRARY.

 

“1 Links Grit. the Wild Rider. By 00]. Prentin In-
graham.

Id The Tiger 0! Teas; or, Wild Kate. Dendy Book'-
Angel. By Geo, Waldo wBrowne.

MO The Cattle King; or, Cortina‘s Right Bower. By
Frank Dumont.

to Hobby Nick of Nevada“) or, the Scampe of the
Blerree. By Edward L. Wheeler.

14! Thunderbolt Tom; or, the Wolf-Herder of the
Rockies. By Barry St. George.
Mil Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. By Cherie.
- Merrie.

150 The Mod Miner; or, Dandy Rock's Doom. By
G. Waldo Browne.

151 The See Trailer; or, A Vow Well Kept. By 001.
Prentiss lngrahem.

15! Dead Darke' or, The Tigers of Hi h Pine. By
W. Ky Eyster: > z

ilwndlrenhtheBnch-kin Bravo. By ILL
Wheeler

.

WTheBo Trailers; oral): IAnceontheWar-
Path. Joe. E. Badger, r.

103 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit. By Col. Prentis-
Ingrehnm.

165 Will Wildfire in the Woods. By 0. Morris.
[57 {Led gemple. the Border Boy. By T. O. Enr-
ng .

158 Deadwood Dick‘s Doom; or, Calamity Jean'-
Lost Adventure By E. L. Wheeler.

159 Potent-Leather Joe‘s Defeat; or. The Lady
Road~Agenk By Philip 8. Warne.

160 Buffalo Billy. the Boy Builwhacker: or, The
Doomed Thirteen. By 001. P. ingrehem.

Bob Beckett. the Orechmen. By 0. Morris.

Little Hurrioene, the Boy CepteilL By Oil
Coomee.

103 Deadwood Dick‘l Dream; or, the Rival. of the
Road. By E. L. Wheeler.

164 Tornado Torn; or. InJun Jock tron Bed Core.
By T. O. Enrheugh.

165 Buflalo Bill‘s Bet; or, The Gambler Guide. By
00L P. ingrehun.

mwm Wildlro Wine end Loeeu or. “A Trump
Cord." ,By Charles Merrie.

ill Dendy Rock's Pied ‘ or, Hunted to D nth.
George W. Brownegre‘ 8 By

168 Deadwood Dick'l Word' or. The Black Hills
Jezebel. By Edwnrd L. Wheeler.

16 The Boy Champion. By Edward Willem.

in Bob Bockett'e F'l ht for Life; or. Shedowed In
New York. By Arlee Morris.

To hear Morton. the Boy Hercules. By on
000121ch

The Yankee Ron ' or Do Derreli.
Edwin Emerson. w. ' ‘m B,

173 Dick Dinzlc. Scout; or. The frontier Angel.
Edward 8; Ellie. ”

174 Dandy Rock'l Scheme; or. The Golden and.
By G. W. rowne.

175 The Arab Dell-cave; or, Snoour. The Boy Sherp
By Edward 1.. Wheeler.

1715 Will Wfldflre'l Pluck; or. The Hidden Bend. By
Charles Morril.

m The Boy Commend": or, The Mold oi Perth.
By Col. Prentlu ingrehun.

 

m The Monies Hunter or The Mysteries of Night
inixnd. By Burton é.

179 Dnint Letter or. The Mystic Marksman. my
1E. er. r.

180 The Bo Gold-Hunter; or. Navajo Nick‘s Scout
By T. Barbeugh.

181 The Boepegreoe Son. By mules Merrie.

182 The Dirk-Skinned Soont; or The Freehoolerl
of the Mississippi. By Liout. m. Hazeitjue.

183 James Dart, Detective: or, The Hermit Traprr.
By Oil Coomee.

184 Featherweight, the Boy Spy. By Ed. Willi-t1.

185 Bison Bi the Overlnnd Prince. By Col. Bum.
tis- Ingra. em.

188 Dainty Lance end me Peril. By J. I. Badger, Jr.

137 The Tre pod Tiger King; or. Dark Peui‘l Blot.
By Cher es Morris. "

188 The Ventrilo uist Detective. A Romance 0!
Rogues. dward L. Wheeler.

1811 Old Rocky‘s Bo
long-Breaker.

190 Sim Simpklne Scour or, The Faithful Mountain
Meetifl. By J'emee . Bowen.

191 band Bock‘l Rival: or, The Myeteriornl Wolf
Rider?y By Geo. Waldo Browne.

192 Hickory Harry; or, Roaring Relph, the Venn-[lo
quiet. By Barry St. George.

193 Detect“? Joeh Grim: or, The Young Gladiator'l
Game. By Edward L Wheeler.

194 Pro-poet Pete. the Boy Miner. By 011 Ooomee.

195 The Tenderfoot Trailer; or.’Plucky Phil, of .the
Mountain. By '1'. C. Herbeugh.

196 'l'heDendy Dotective' or. The Abducted Boy
Myltery. By Charles Merrie.

197 Boy. the Youni Cutie King; or. The Tenn
Sport Unmeske By Col. Prentia Inmhem.

198 Eben Den'o Mask: or. The Rim [um 01
the inst By Frank Dumom. v

199 Dictionnry 1m, Detective- or, Bill Brevo, n.
BeerTemer. By T. c. Enthule

200 The Twin Horsemen: or, The Brothers of the
Plan Lance. By 0321. Frederick'Whjtmker.

:01 Dana Derke'l Perdr or, Th3 Run or a
PineyBy Wm. B. Eyl'ter. a"

209 Tom. the Tom Thor or OldLuke‘eLneh. '
OllCoomee. ' ’ B’

r or Bonito, the Young line
‘md. Sun. s. mu.

Ins Sam. the Ofnce - or. The Table: Turned
Charles Morris Buy. By

I'M The Younz 00wboy; or. The Girl ’i‘reiler‘e Tri-
umph. By 001. Prentiss ingrehnm.

205 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sun‘e sch
By E. L. Wheeler. ma.

non White Lizhtning‘ or, the Bo . ,
h. v ’ An, D, T (1
so? Kentuek'l‘el'hot‘eBend- or mum
Captain um Wilton. ' ’ 3’

mm Tom'l Castle xymry- or, bum
Dimezmee. By on aoom' n‘

209 The Meson-zer- Boy Detectl e; . uni ‘-
0, I“ v or The T a

BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY;

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents.

 

'10 The Hunchback of the Mines: or, Reckless
R‘ilnh, the Road-sznt. By Joe. E. Badger. Jr.
in Little Giant and His Band; or Despnrd, the
Duelist. By P. S. Warne.
£12 The Jimtown S art; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado.
£1: E When er.
813 e Pirates Prize; or. The Mysterious Yankee
Schooner. By C. Dunning: Clark.
214 Dandy Dave, of Shasta; or, The 'Frisco Flash 0'
Lightning. B T. C. Harbauzzh.
815 During Den, t e Ranger; or, The Drnver Detw
tive. By Oil Coomes.
216 The anbo Captain; or, Ranger Ralph‘s Ruin.
Bv Colonel cuties Ingraham.
217 Bald Head of the Rockies: or, The Ang'l of the
Range. By Major Sam S. Hall.
219 The Miner Siort; or, Sugar-Coated Sam‘s Claim.
By Edward Vi heeler.
219 Buck. the Detective; or, Paul1 the Boy Pard. By
Albert W. Aiken.
220 Crack—Shot Frank; 01', Bill Bounce, the Moun-
lain Bravo. B Charles Morris.
221 Merle the Mid, y: or, A Waif of the Waves. By
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
,mRosebud Ben’s Boys; or, The Young Prairie
Renters. Bv Oll Coomes.
228 Gold Conrad's Watch-Dogs; or. The Two Pards
of Vulture Bar. By T. C. Harhcuzh.
m girlsky Fe gus, the New York Boy. Bv G. L.

en.

225 Dick Drew, the Miner's Son; or, Alpollo Bill, the
Road-Agent. By Edward L. Whee er.

no Dakota. Dick in Chicago; or, Jack, the Old Tar.
By Charles Morris.

:27 Merle, the Boy Cruiser; or, Brandt, the Buc-
caneer. B Colonel Prentiss Ingruham.

228 The Preac er Detective; or, The Boy Ventrilo-
uist. By 01] Coomes.

229 la Hickory‘s Grit. By John J. Marshall.

2&0 The Three Boy Sports; or, The Sword Hunters.
By Captain Fred erick Whittaker.

231 Sierra Sam. the Detective. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

232 .Merle Monte‘s Treasure; or, Buccaneer Brandt's

' . Threat. By (Ed Prentiss lnzraham.

283 Rocky Rover Kit; or, Davy Crockett's Crooked
Trail. B Ensign C. D. Warren.

234 Baldy. t e Miner Chief. By Capt. J. F. C.
Adams.

285 Jack Stump‘s Cruise; or. The Montpelier's Muti-
ueers. 13y Rozer Starbuck.

m6 Sierra Sam’s Double' or, The Three Female De-
tectives. lgy Ei. L. Wheel ar.

23'! Newsboy ad, Dethtiv‘e; or, Two Philadelphia
Gamins. By Charles Morris.

i388 Merle Monte'e Sea-Scraper; or. Livtle- Belt‘e
Droll Disguise. By 001. Prentiss ln-zr uh". in.

289 Ben's BIB Boom‘ or, The Boss Miner’s League.
B Capt. Mark Wilton.

‘940 S arp Shot Mike, or. Columbia Jim on the War-
Path. By OllCoomes.

241 Sierra. Sam's Sentence 01'. Little Luck at Rough
Ranch. By Edward L. the er.

242 The Denver Detective: or, Dainty Dot at Gold
Gulch. By T. C. Harbaugh.

5243 Dutch Sun's Dilemmas or The Mysterious
Mountain Monster. By Maj. L. W. Carson.

24-1 Merle Monte’s Disguise; or. The Capture of
Brandt, the Buccaneer. By Col. Prentiss In-

graham.

245, ldy‘e Boy Partner; or. Young Brainerd‘l
Steam Man. By Edward S. Ellis.

$46 Dete tive Keen s Agni-entice: or, James Jumper
the ew York Gem . By Charles Morris.

’47 The‘Glri S rt: or Jumbo Joe's Disguise. B
Edward Lpitheelér. y

m Giant George’- Pnrd; or. Arizona Jack, the
Tenderfoot. ByBuchkinSm

 

249 Ranch Rob’s Wild Ride; or, Old Winch The
Rifle King. By DC. Earbaugh.
250 Mer’e Monte‘s Pardon; or. The Pirate Chicf’l
Doom. By Col. Prentiss Ingrsham.
251 The Deaf Detective; or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp.
By Edward Willett.
252 Denvvr Doll‘s Device: or, The Detective Qw-en,
By Edward L. Wheeler.
253 The Boy Tender-foot; or, Roaring Ben Bundy of
Colorado. By Capt. Mark Wilton.
254 Black Hills Ben; or Dutch Jan on the War-
Path. By Maj. Lewis w. Carson. V
255 Jolly Jim, Detective; or, The Young Protege‘s
Victory. By Charles Morris.
258 Merle Monte‘s Lest Cruise; or The Sea Robber
at Bay. By Col. Premise Ingra am.
25! The Boy Chief of Rocky Pass; or, The Young
California Pards. By Maj. E. L. St. Vram.
258 Denver Doll as Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.
259 L‘ttle Foxeye, the Colorado Spy. By 011
Gnomes.
260 Skit, the Cabin Boy. By Edward Willett.
261 Bi do, the Sport. or, the Giant of Clear Grit
‘ Cnmp. By T. C. Harbaugh.
262 Billy. the Roy Rever; or, Terror Tom of Texas.
By 001. P. Ingraham. I
283 Buster Bob's Buoy; or, Lige, the Light—House
Keeper. Hr Capt. J. F. 0. Adams. '
264 Denver Doll‘s Partner; or, Big Buckskin the
Sport: By E. D Wheeler.
265 Billy. the Bacgn're Boy; or. The Young Railroad
Detective. By Charles Morris.
266 Guy’s Boy Chum; or, The Forest Weir's Mask.
By Capt. Cometock.
267 Giant George‘s Revenge; or, The Boys of “ Slip-
up Mine.“ By Buckskin Sam.
268 The Dead Shot Dandy; or, The Rio Grande
I Marauders. By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.
269 The Quartzville Boss; 01', Daring David Darke.,
By Edward Willett. .
270 Denver Doll's Mine; or, Little Bill's Big Loss.
By E. L. Wheeler.
271 Ebon Jim'sTerror: or, RangerRainbolt'sRusc.
By Oi Coomes.
272 Kit, the Girl Defective; or Dandy Dash in Call—
i’ornia. By T. C. Harhauczh.
278 The Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned's Surprise. By
Joe. E. Badger, Jr.
274 Dead Shot Dandy‘s Double; or, Benito, the Boy
Pard. By Col. Prentiss Ingram . ' _.
Ready April 10.
275 Fred, the Ocean Wait: or, The Old Sailo "l
Prot e. By Charles Morris.
Baggy April 17.
276 Deadwood Dick Trapped' or, Roxey Rel h‘:
Buse. By Edward L. Wheeler. p
Ready April 24.
277 The Idiot Bog Avenger" or, Captain Wild Cat‘l
Bit! Game. {Albert W. Aiken.
Ready May ‘

Burma’s Pooxwr Lmrunr is for male by all Nowa-
doalors, five cents a copy, or sent hymail on re-
ceipt of six cents each.

Bnnu up Aunts, Publishers.
fl William Street. New You." ‘