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8 The Girl Rider.

The Girl Rider;

NIMBLE NED’S SURPRISE.

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.,

AUTHOR or “me T-HAWK KIT,” “DAINTY
Luca,” “ BLAC GIANT," ETc., ETC.

CHAPTER I.
THE STRANGE RIDER.

“Baal for my part, I believe it sheer non-
sense—nothing but a hoax.”

“ 80 said I until lately; but now I know there
is something in it."

The sentences just noted were spoken in very
dissimilar tones: the first one careless and
slightly scolding—the second low and earnest.
Both speakers were young and of prepossessing

appearance.

he scene was an attractive one, though some-
what similar ones have been described time and

. time again. In fact it was the bivouac of a
hunting-party.

In conscious security they had kindled their
camp-fire, and now, without a thought of dan-
ger, were enjoying that indispensable luxury of
a true plainsman—pipes and tobacco.

As already incidentally mentioned, the party
consisted of half a score of hunters, all young—
the eldest scarcely numbering thirty ears.
Their hair was worn long; scarcely one 0 their
faces had ever known the touch of a razor, giv-
ing their beards a glossy silkness seldom seen,
that even the scorching sun or crinkling winds
of winter could not destroy.

“ What do you mean by that, Fred ?” quicklly
added the first speaker, Edward Campbel ,
familiarly known as Nimble Ned—a tall, stal-
wart youth, who, despite his few years. had al-
ready ained a widely-known reputation for
agility in Texas.

“ Just what I say, Ned," and Fredt'Hawksle
spoke in a serious tone. “ I know there is such
a being, because I have seen her—yes, and
spoken to her, too.”

A general movement followed this announce-
ment, and it was plain that the subject under
discussion possessed no little interest to the
hunters. Still, desgite Hawksley‘s earnestness,
they seemed to don .

“ You have never mentioned this before, Fred.
Are Xou sure there is nomistake?”

“ m In fool, Ned Campbell?" retorted the
young man, coolly. “ I tell you that I saw a
mysterious» girl rider only three days ago, not
two miles from this very spot. An I spoke to
her, too, as! told you before.”

, "That’s why you were so urgent for us to
encamp here was it?" lau had Ned. “ But
r never mind-tell us all about t now.”

“Yes—rim is she! What did she look like?
Did she answer you?” eagerly cried several of
the little band.

“ Well, I’ll tell you all I know about it, pro-- '

. vided you promise not to make fun of me.”
. “ You’re not at another of your sells, are you,
Fred? Honest Injun now.”

.\‘

 

“ No, Ned, I mean just what I say.”

“ That’s enough. Go on. When you talk
like-that, we know you’re not fooling.”

“ Well, as I said, I saw her three days ago,
out just beyond the big red rock; you know
where that is. I didn’t mention it to any of

on, because we had all been deriding Hark

ogan so unmercifully about her that I was
ashamed to tell what I had seen. ‘ ou may. re—
member that I was unusually gulet that n1 ht
after getting back to camp. told you I all;
tired, but I was thinking.

“ You know that the red rock is just on the
top of a high swell—the highest ground for
miles around. I was climbing this—as my nag
was tired and heavily loaded with meat—on
foot. Mott suddenly raised his head and
whickered. Even had there not comeaquick
reply, that would have told me there was an-
other horse near by, but a neigh did come from
directly ahead of me. -

“ I was then almost on the top of the big rock.
And there, beside it, the Girl Rider was. You
know how high the rock is. Well, as she sat her
horse, her head was on a level with the highest
gait-f of the rock, so you can judge she was no

a y.

“ I remembered Bogan’s description the mo'
meat I saw this, and knew that I must he look-
in upon his ‘ wild woman.’ At firstIcould
on y see her head and shoulders. On her head
she wore a small ca of some kind of fur, with
two or three brigh yd ed eagle-feathers, such
as the Kiowas wear. er dress—what I could
see of it— eemed to be made of tanned fawn-
skin, trimmed in Indian style.

“ Thinking this, I kept on until closetothe
rock and not half a dozen lengths from the
stranger. Then she lifted a. hand and motioned
for me to pause. That she meant this, I saw
from her turning the muzzle of alight, hand-
some rifle toward my breast, it resting between
the ears of her horse. She seemed like one who
had smelled powder before, and I obeyed her.

“ Now’ I could see that she was white—though
her complexion was that of a rich brunette. A
more beautiful face I never saw. I can’t de-
scribe it—onl that her great big eyes were
black and. shining as those of a deer; that her
figure was the most superbly developed, the
most symmetrical that I ever beheld in my life.
Boys,_thut face and figure have haunted me
over Since. If that woman isas cod and pure '
as‘she is beautiful. she would well worth
d ing for!” suddenly added Hawksley, pufl‘lng
v orously at his extinguished pipe.

‘And still better living for-eh, Fred?” and
Ned laughed. “ But go on-you spoke to her—
this marvelous beauty?"

“ Yes—but not until she spoke first to me. I
was still staring at her, amazed, for I knew till"
she did not live anywhere around here—at least
with any one I knew, and there’s few families
in the State that I do not know. She said:

“ ‘What is your name?’

“Just that and nothing more.
told her.”

“ Hal hal the invincible_ conquered—Fred
Hawksley in love with the fair unknown 1”

“ ugh if on will, Ned,” was the sober re-
ply, “ I half lieve it myself. But asI said, I

Of course I

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

' he aross. “If

The Girl Rider. 

 

answered her. She did not speak again. but
gave me a look—a glance that set my brain
aflre—my heart to throbbing like atrIp-ham-
mer. Then she touched the rein and shot all to
the right, swift as an arrow. At a little dis-
tance she paused and raised one hand toward
me. I was dumfounded then, but since, I be—
lieve that she meant itas a challenge to me. I
did mount Mott, but jaded as he was, I knew
Ehat he stood no chance in a race with that mus-
ang.

“Ned, as I rode slowly toward camp, the
stran e woman, whoever she may be, fairly rode
roun me, then with a clear, taunting laugh,
gave loose rein, and dashed away over the prai-
rie like a bird. In five minutes she was out of
sight. Now, boss, you know all that I know
about the matter.”

“ Hark l”

There was little need of the exclamation, for
all, both human and quadruped, heard the sound
that called it forth, the quick, rapid thud of a
horse’s boots upon the solid prairie. All eyes
were instantly turned toward the arch before
alluded to. -

The hunters felt only curiosity, for the knew
that only one horseman approached. hen a
simultaneous cry broke from their lips. as they
discovered the beautiful Girl Rider. For a mo-
ment they appeared awe-stricken.

Sitting a noble-looking mustang beneath the
leaf canopy, with form perfectly outlined
against the still glowing sky in the West, was
who other than the strange bein who had
formed the subject of conversation or the past
half-hour. Her features were indistinctly visi—
ble, but there could be no mistake.

She sat her horsein true savage style—astride,
and, with a dress fashioned for that purpose, as
was hers, the effect was far from disp easing.
Her dress flashed back the firefight in a thou-
sand scintillations, from the beads and silver
ornaments that (guiclkly studded its folds. The
long black hair, 5 ightly curling at the extremi-
ties. floated in wild profusion around her form.
A light rifle was carelessly balanced across the
deep-seated Mexican saddle. Other weapons
gleamed from the belt that encircled her round,
comairict waist.

__ " ho and what areyou, anyhow?” cried Ned,
breaking the spell with an elfort.

The only reply was a low, clear laugh, melo-
dious as the notes of a silver bell. Hawksley
had not exaggerated in the least. The most

skeptical now acknowledged this, mentally, if

not aloud.

“ Keep her in sight, Ned,” muttered Fred as
Mott can do it, I’ll answer that
question before I’m an hour older.”

> At his movement, the strange rider wheeled
her mustang and _seemed ready for flight, her
face turned, glancmg back over her shoulder.

” I can drop the lliliebald without hurting her,”
muttered Campbe . half-inquiring] .

“ No—that would never do. e have no
right. Keep her in sight—I think I can over-
haul her,” and Hawksley uttered a low whistle,
at the same time gliding toward where his sad-
dle and bridle hun . .

With another clim- laugh, the strange rider
turned, and, bending low along the spotted mus-

l

 

tang’s neck, dashed around the timber. Ned
rushed to the arch, then paused, muttering
eagerly:

“ Quick. Fred-she’s waiting for on!”

Such indeed seemed the case. he woman’

had only retreated a few hundred yards from .

the bivouac, and then, as if feeling implicit con-
fidence in the powers of the animal she bestrode,
had halted, once more glancing back toward
the camp—fire. Her actions Were strange as her
appearance. She seemed inviting—challenging
pursuit. ‘

In less than aminute from her first‘appear-
auce, Fred Hawksley sprung upon his noble
beast, and dashed through the arch out upon the
prairie. The strange rider uttered another laugh,

clear and silvery, yet with a taunting cadence.
that caused the young hunter’s blood to tingle.

and his lips to compress firmly. He resolved to
overtake the woman, even if it cost him the
noble steed he besm'ode. ‘

“ We’ll follow on after on, Fred," cried Ned,
as his friend dashed past im. “ Don't be rash—-
there may be some deviltry in this i”

The strange rider tossed back her floating hair
with one hand, as the young borderer sprung

into view; then with a peculiar cry she gave her I

mustang free rein, and sped away with the

of a swallow. After her thundered the
big yellow horse, with the long, swinging
stride that Fred knew fe mustangs could suc—
395$}:qu cope with, beyon anything over a mile

as . , -

“ Quick, boys—saddle up!” cried Ned, excit-
edly. “ Never mind the meat.
Fred is running into some troublklhat creature
has bewitched him. See! he forgot his rifle-—
but he has his pistol. Make haste! we mustn’t

lose sight of them if we can help it though the

moon is full and will soon be up. We can fol.
low their trail, if needs be.”
There was little hesitation. Though the day’s

work had been hard, both men and beasts were »~

for arace, and this was no common one. A1-
ready the young hunters possessed a burnin
curiosity to know who and what this strange
woman rider really was, and what was the m0-
tive of her strange actions. ‘

Hopples were slip ed, saddles and hridles
quickly adjusted, an then, weapons in hand,
the little party dashed swiftly beneath the natur-
al rock, out upon the broad prairie. But where
were the two riders—their friend and the strange
woman! ‘

For a moment a superstitious thrill agitated
the young hunters, but then Ned laughed. He
saw their foolishness.

, “ They’re beyond the swell—we’llseethem in a
moment. Come on— keep up with me if you can 1”

His companions followed more deliberately,
though at a steady gallop. The moonli ht was
sufficiently stron to enable them to to ow the
plainly imprin trail with little difficulty. In

a few minutes they lost sight of Ned Campbell, V

behind a timber island.

Round a point of this the trail led, and dash-
ing along, the eyes of the pursuers wildly dilated
as the abruptly drew rein. The prairie here
stretc ed out free of timber, almost level for
several miles in either direction. Apd yet not
a living object was to be seen upon :3 surfimel

I’m afraid that w

 

  

Was this magic? More than one of the hunters
felt a thrill of superstitious awe, as they glanced
at each other. Where was Hawksley and the
Girl Rider? Where was Ned Campbell!

“Look!” muttered a tall, lank youth, Zebe-
dee Ruel by name, “hyar’s tha’r trail—three
critters goin’ at full split. They’ve passed this-
a-wgy. Reckon we’d best follow on~what
511V

The trail was faint and indistinct at this point,
for the ground was harder, ringing sharply be-
neath the iron-shod hoofs. It was the ed e of a.
tract of prairie sometimes found in exas—

. more frequently in Kansas and Nebraska—com—
posed of sand, gravel and flinty pebbles, over
which a horse may ass without leaving a trail.

Such was soon ound to be the case here.
Though all dismounted, even searching the
ground upon hands and knees, the trail was
soon lost. _

“ Hal boys, we’re fools !” muttered Craig Fen-

, ton, in a tone of disguiet. “ Don’t you know
this place? Why, we re not five miles from Col-
ton’s Ranch!”

“ By thunder! you're right, Craig,” muttered
Rue]. “ Then they must be in the—"

“ Look yonder 3”

Following the direction indicated by the out-
stretched finger, the hunters beheld the tall
figure of a horseman, standing motionless upon
the prairie, not two hundred yards from their
position, And yet only a moment before, the
prairie had been closely scanned, without a liv-
ing object being seen.

CHAPTER II.
THE LOTTERY OF DEATH.
OTHER events were occurring upon that same
ni ht, that new claim our attention.
small timber island that stood close beside
‘the stream before spoken of as running near
the hunter’s bivouac, was the scene of a strange
‘ and peculiar trial: one that might with propri-
ety be termed a lottery of deat .

Shortly after dark a band of horsemen begun
congregating here, riding silently into the road,
dismounting and tethering their animals in a
small glade that occupied the center of the
motto. That they were white men was plain
from the few words oken, though the over-
hanging trees conceal their features.

One man who was among the first to arrive,
appeared hi [1 in authority, judging from the
de erence w th which he was regarded by the

' others. He seemed ill at ease, or very impa-
tient, moving restlessly to and fro,’ muttering
more than one curse beneath his breath, stamps
ing his foot fiercely or nervously fingering the
wea n at his belt. '

“ ow many are there here, Thompsonl’? he

uttered, abruptly pausing beside a tall, muscue,

cular frame.
“Seventeen, by my count, Ca ’n Jap,” re—
lied the man with the stumpy pi till clinched
twixt his teeth. “Thar’s two more yit—

, Colton an‘ Marcks.” ‘
“Can it be that he sus

our meeting to-night?

cts‘ the purpose of
he soft-headed fool

' may have seen his brother since then, and as he
" knows the laws of our band, that would put
himon his guard. Let him beware! He’d bet-

 

The Girl Rider.

 

./

ter out his own throat than to prove false to us
now.

“ True as preachin’, Cap’n J ap,” quoth Thomp—
son. “We’d sarve him wuss’n we did Hans
Koch. But he’ll be here, I reckon. He's most
al’ays behindhan’.”

“Start the fire, Jim. We must have light
for the drawing. Ha! there comes some one
now!”

“Yes-—an’ it's him, too.
racker in the band."

“Good!” then adding, in a. low, ra id tone;
“You must watch him close, T ompson.
When he learns what is on the boards, he may
cut up nasty. Keep close enough to him to grab
him if I give the word. You understand?”

“ Bet ye——l’ll do it, never fear,” muttered the
man, as he gathered a handful of dried leaves
and grass.

“Well, Colton,” sternly uttered the man all-
dressed as Captnin Jap—his name being Jasper
Morton—turning to the last comer, “you are
late, as usual.” "

“I could not help it, Captain Morton.
kept—17 .

‘No excuses. But if you ever hope torise
higher in the band, you must break yourself of
this habit. Only for one thing, you would
have, been discharged from the league, long

“And that is—”

“We know you would betra us before the
Week was out. There—yon no not deny it. 1
know you tooawell. I merely mentioned this
now becauseI believe you need a hint of the
kind. You are watched—I tell you that much.
You remember Hans Koch? It has not been so
long since that you should forget his fate.
Take care that we do not have to deal with you
in that manner.”

“ What have I done that you should threaten
me in this manner, Captain Morton? Have
Sverzaproved false—haven’t I always obeyed on-

ere.

“ There—don’t get your back up, Jack Colton.
What I say is for your own good. It I am not
mistaken you will be tested to-night, more se-
verely than you think. See to it that
not fail. If you (lo—you die .7”

“ I don’t understand you.”

“ You will, before long. That will do,
Thompson. We only require a little light, and
some prying eye might catch the limmer.
Now, men,” he added, after a brie nee,
“ other round and listen well to what say.
V e have work to do this night—some of you

He rides the only

I was

you do,

may know what I mean, but most of you do

not. Listen, well, but keep silence.

“ First, a word as to the ob'ects of our
league, then as to our laws. It wi I do no harm
to freshen your memory on these points. We
n_ll know our calling—our name, for it is con-
fiscation—others call it stealing; but that don’t
matter. Among ourselves we are ‘Night
Hawks.’ To others we are simple cattle-
drivers, mnstangers, or quiet settlers.

“ We have been organized some six months.
In that time our profits have been nearly two
thousand dollars per man; a little better than
simple farming. But it will be better still, new
that our markets are fairly opened, and a chain

1"?»

 

  
  

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..- - . .... .um-(n—v—aa, —.-—‘—“vv‘ “Wm-«m u >-

The Girl Rider. ,/8 K

 

established along which we can ship our plunder
without chance of being detected. All this,
however. you know.

“ Now about our laws. The first is—death to
all traitors. The next—death to those who
stubbornly refuse to perform the duty assigned
tothem. Our motto is, blood for blood. f a
member of our league is taken prisoner, we
swear to free him, though it cost the lives of
half our number. If one is killed, we swear to
aven e him.

“ on all remember Hans Koch. He warned
a friend that we intended cleaning out his cor-
ral on a certain night. A trap was set for us,
but we escaped it, because a trusted spy dis-
covered Koch’s treacher . You know that
Koch met his reward. killed him, because
the, lot fell to me. HadI refused, your laws
would have condemned me, even though I was
tWice your leader. You wonder why I say all
this? I will tell you now.

“ You know that Koch’s death reduced the
number of our league to twenty. There are only
eighteen here now. One—Tony Marcks—is ab-
sent on duty assi ned him by me. The other—
Israel Hackett— dead.”

A low murmur of surprise followed this an-
nouncement, and it was evident that few, if any
of the band had known of their comrade’s fate.
Jasper Morton waved his hand for silence, then
resumed:

“ Yes, Israel Hackett is dead—he was killed
last night while performing his duty. He was
one of our best men, and now duty becomes a
pleasure—we must avenge him as our laws de-
mand.”

“ He shall \be avenged; the name? who killed
him?” came the fierce cry from more than one
pair of lips. I ,

“ Keep cool—all in good time, men. We will
proceed by rule. It is only one man. And
upon one of us the duty falls. We will decide
by the lottery. It is the fairest way. Thomp-
son—the ouch!”

A smal , narrow buckskin bag was handed the
leader, wlo knelt beside the small fire that flick—
ered faintly and feebly. At a gesture from him
the outlaws—for such they undoubtedly were—
gathered more closely around, bending forward

. and watching his every motion.

“You know the rules of this—that a bullet
shall be placed in the bag for each and every
person present, all but one of them being old
and stained by rubbing together—the other one
bright and new. Then we draw. one by one,
until the bright bullet is chosen. The man who
draws that is the one chosen executioner. There
can be no refusal, no retreating. It is a sacred
command, and the one who refuses to obey
proclaims himself a traitor. Do you all under-
stand me?”

“ Yes—we are all ready!”

“ And you?” turning abruptly toward the
man he had called Jack Colto . *

“ I vow with the rest—I am ready,” came the
quiet reply. '

“ Goodl I confess that I had some doubts,
for on have acted rather queerly since Koch’s
def:z " sneered Mot-tog.

e was my frien : you cannot blame me
tor feeling touched at his horrible death.”

 

Beckett, and he is doomed.

“ There is nothing wrong in that—only be

ware that you do not let your friendship carry
you in his footsteps. His wretched fate would
be happiness compared with yours, in that
case."
Morton seemed to have some secret spite
against this member of his band, but Colton com~
nianded himself by an effort of will and with a
scow] the outlaw leader turned once more to the
subject in hand.

“Thompson, mold a bullet, your molds run
the truest. Make haste."

Five minutes later, all was ready. Ja er Mor-
ton took the bullets—one brightas si ver, the
others all dingy and dark—and slowly dropped
them one by one into the buckskin pouc , so
that all could see. Then he shook them up
thoroughly.

“Now, as I call, let each man step forward
and draw. You are standing in a circle. I will
begin here at my right hand, and go to the left.
When you draw, open your band and hold the
bullet in the flrelight so that all may see. You
first, Wilkins!” '

The man advanced, plunged his hand into the
pouch, withdrew it, holding the pellet of lead
where the firelight shone full upon it. It was
dark and dingy.

So were the next half-dozen drawn. Some
seemed pleased at the result, others indiEerent
but one uttered a low curse, as though he had
been de rived of a prized boon in not drawing
the brig t bullet. .

Jack Coltnn came next, and the features of the
outlaw chief lighted up with a gleam of malig-
nant jo , as the young man held up the fatal
pellet. t was just what he had been longing
for. Had he known the meaning of the word, it '
is prlobable that he would have prayed for this
resu t.

“ on are the elected, Colton,” he cried, in a
voice that rung with triumph. “ Your hand
must deal the avenging blow. But first—to show
that all was conducted fair. See—here are the
other bullets. All are dark—you drew the only '
bright one. Are you satisfied ?”

“ Yes, I am satisfied. I will avenge Hackett,
since fate selects me. Tell me the name, and
what I must do,” uietly replied the young man.

“You must kill him, and before morning.
Such are the rules. No unnecessary delay.”

“I know—his name?” impatiently.

“ Listen. Of course I am very sorry that it
has ha pened as it has. It would have been
better ad the choice fallen on some other man;
but since you are elected, you must forget all
save that you belong to this league.” and as. he
spoke Morton‘s eyes gleamed with diabolical

JOY-

“ What do you mean by this?” {altered Colton,
his bronzed cheek paling.

“ Only to prepare you. Israel Beckett was
killed by your brother, Henry Canon!”

“ My God i” gasped Colmn, the terrible truth
bursting upon his eart. My Mother—and 1——
but no, no! You can not mean that!”

" Thompson, remember what I told you,”
cried Morton, sharply shrinking back from be-
fore the agitated outlaw, one hand seeking his
belt. “ Yes, I do mean it. Your brother killed
You took your

 

   

' I Morton.

up ‘_ . The on: ma».

chance with the rest of us—you must fulfill
your oath.”

“I will not—1’11 kill you first!” screamed the
unfortunate young man, and in his frenzy, his
revolver was jerked from the sheath at his side.

Now Morton’s precautions stood him in good
stead. Thompson sprung forward and clutched
the half-crazed outlaw, pinning his arms closely
to his sides, holding him powerless as a child.

Thus assisted, Morton quickly disarmed Col-
ton, then motioned Thompson to release him.
With a hot, angry glance around him, the young
man stood still, quelling his emotion by a power-
ful exertion of will.

“Now let me know just what you mean by
this action, Jack Colton. Have you forgotten

our oath this soon? Do you intend to defy the

eague?” ,

“ Yes—when you try to make me soil my
hinlds with the blood of a. brother,” was the firm
re y.

P‘Ah, you remember the tie now, do you?”
sneered Morton. “ And yet. only a few weeks
since. you swore that you'd have his heart’s
blood. Have you forgotten that he cursed you,
and drove you from his door like a dog, because
as he said, you insulted his wife?"

“ He only served me right. I did insult her,
but it was when I was drunk. Never mind that
now. I tell you that I will not murder him.”

.“ Take care—you are sealing your own doom
by these words. You have been told your duty
—-obey, or take the consequence.”

“ Let it come. I am ready.”

“ Dora the fool—what’s the use 0’ palaverin’?”
growled Thompson. “ Here's the bullets; shake
em up, and give him a turn." -

" For the last time—will you obey?”

H No.”

V Again the drawing of the death-lottery was
gone through, this time even more deliberately
than before. Evidently Morton was anxious to
put Colton to death, from some reason of his
own. During its progress, the attitude of the
prisoner, for such he now was, did not change,
but his features altered greatly. His resolution
seemed dying out as he noted the cool noucha-
lance with which the lots were drawn. Life ap-
red more and more dear to him.

“ It’s mel” uttered Thompson, with a coarse
laugh. “ Well Colton, my boy, since it’s so, I
reckon I mu . How‘ll you hev it—lead or
steel?"

” Neither. Spare me. Do not murder me I”
gasped the young man, pale and trembling.

“ You know the alternative!” coolly replied
“ Do your duty and you are safe.”

“ You are not jestinE-you mean this?”

“ Yes. Strike the low that avenges Israel
Beckett, and we will forget that you refused to
do your duty.” -

‘ I will do it. I did not think it was so hard
to die, and he did treat me mean—like a dog—
he even kicked mel" muttered Colton, trem-

. blingly.

l
Morton’s eyes gleamed. This sudden change
seemed toplease him reatly. Thompson looked
on in disgust. He fe t only contempt for this
pitiful craven.
“Come we have lost time enough. Mount,
and let’s be going. We’ll make a clean sweep

 

of the corrals, too, while about it. Thompson,
you and I will keep our friend here com-
pany." and Morton glanced significantly at his
acolyte. '

The little band filed forth from the woods, and
then set out over the prairie at a rapid gallop-—
the one gait of Morton’s horsemen. They had
only a few miles to travel, and of that they
made short work.

Jack Colton rode between Thompson and Mor-
ton, his head bowed as though strongly agitated.
The outlaw chief was in great spirits. What
ever may have been his object, he was greatly
giased with the course affairs had that night

en.

“Yonder’s the ranch,” muttered Thompson,
slackening his pace. “Now, what’s the pro
gramme, old man?"

“Well, our first care is to see that Colton
here does his duty. Either you or I can go with
him to the door, Just to keep his courage up, you
know; the other can take charge of the men
and go through the stables and corral."

“ Jest as you say, Cap’n Jap. Bnt how’d we
best work it—bu’st in an’ take the critter by
s’prise, or knock ’im up?"

“Best rag at the door. He'll think it’s all
right when 9 beers Jack’s voice. And as for
you, my man,” addressing Colton, “remember
that your life depends upon how you act this
night. Thompson, you will keep him covered
with your pistol, and at the first sign of treach-
ery, drop him. You hear me?”

“Yes—I’ll do it, too, so mind yer eye, ole
boy," and the tall ruflian uttered an oath to
bind his threat. '

“ You waste a great many words. I have to
do this deed, and I Will do it. Why do you
threaten so much?” quietly added Colton.

“Because I don’t half trust you. I believe
you are a traitor at heart, and I am half sorry
that I gave you another chance at the grove,
But take care! You’d better have been born
dead than attempt any treachery toward us
now. While one of the band lives, your life will
be in peril.”

“ His will may be good a—plenty, but he hain't
got the sand in is craw to act the traitor. But
never fret, Cap’n Jap. I’ll see that he puts‘Hen
Colton out o’ the way. or down he goes hisself.
Come, we’d better git down here. The houu’s
begin to smell us a’ready.”

The entire party now dismounted, securing
their animals to the rude rail fence, at this point
being hidden from the house by the long hay-
topped stables. After a few whispered instruc-
tions from J r Morton, Thompson linked his
arm in that o Colton, and glided silently to-
ward the house.

As they crossed the stile~blocks, a furious
barking broke the air, and half a dozen large
hounds came rushing toward them. Thompson
cocked his pistol, as he muttered in Colton’s
ear:

“ Quiet ’em, Jack; still the brutes, or you’ll
never live to make love to Hen’s widow I”

“Should you harm me, those brutes would
tear on to pieces before you could flre
twice, ’ coolly replied Colton. “ Bee— they
know me.”

The huge hounds had recognized the hand

      
     
       
       
     
       
       
      
        
 
      
      
    
   
     
     
   
  
   
   
 
  
   
  
     
  
 
    
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
  
   
   
   
 
     
 
  
 
    
   
  

 

 

I

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

The Girl Rider.

 

 

 

that had so often fed them in days gone by and

their anng greeting turned to one of joy. With
difficulty ‘0 ton kept them from leaping upon
gis body in a swarm, .licking his hands and
ace.

Thompson uttered an oath. The haying of
the bounds had aroused the inmates of the
building, for a. faint light shone through the
heavily-shuttered windows.

“Wal, it don’t matter much, a’ter all. We
won’t hev to knock so long. But now mind
how ye act, Jack Colwn. You see—I hev my
shooter cocked an’ ready. The fu’st crooked
step you make—down goes your apple-cart!
Onderstand’l”

“Yes. But suppose he refuses to open the
door?” 4

“ He won’t if you play it fine. You tell him
to open: thet you re hard hit—bin in a muss at
the Corners. I’ll sw’ar to it. Thet’ll fetch him,
sure. So—kinder lean on me. It’ll look better
an’ ’11 hide your barker from him ontil he comes
out. Kee cool now, and mind your eye, for
your life epends on 1Zour doing this job slick
an’ without any bung 'n’.”

‘,‘ All right. You hail him. I’m hurt too

bad :10 call so loud,” added Colmn, with a sickly
laug .
“ Hallow—the house You, Hen Colton—I
say—darn it all, man, be ye deef?" roared
Thompson, supporting the young man upon one
strong arm.

“ W hat’s wanting out there?” demanded a
clear. strong voice from the interior.

“ You’re wanted—got a sick man here thet
needsa little doctorin’. Some kin o’ your’n, I
reckon. Says he’s your brother.”

“ What's that?” and the heavy door was cau-
tiousl swun ajara few inches.

“ It 5 me, eury,” and the young man's voice
trembled. ‘ .

“What’s the matter with you?" the settler
demanded, a. trace of suspicion in his tone.

“ Nothin’ much—on] cut up a little. Monte
Pete an’ One-eyed Jo nny doubled teams on
him, down to the Corners. They’re subjects for
a fu’st-class wake, an’ the lad here is hurt con-
sirl'uble. He would 'hev me fetch him here—
snid he wanted to make up’th you, or somethin’
like that. But I reckon he’s wu’th two dead
critters yit,” hastily explained the tall outlaw.

“It’s true, Henry. Give me shelter for one
niignheg, or until my hurts can be looked to. You
w . I

“ Of course—you are my brother still, though
you had acted twioeas bad as you had done.
Come—let me help you.”

The settler, unsuspecting treachery, stepped
out upon the porch, his countenance expressing
his anxiety. Then Thompson nudged Jack
Colton With his elbow, as he loosened his hold.

What followed was quick as thought. A
bright flash—a sharp report—a death-cry of
intense agony—a 'heavy fall upon the broad
stone steps. '

Then Colton. still clutching the smoking
pistol, s rung forward, and seizing his brother
pushed im forcibly back into the uilding, in a
moment closin the heavy oaken door and drop-
ping the stout are into place. ,

Inelde the brothers—outside, what? Awrith~

  

 

ing, bleeding body from which the life was
rapidly ebbing. liompson the outlaw had
been outwitted, and paid the penalty with his

e.
Ashe gave Colton the signal that the time
had come for his bloody deed, the you man
turned his pistols ainst his breast, an fired.
With bullet-pierc breast, the outlaw fell,

d m .

yHeir Colton was thunderstruck. At first he
believ that the assault was upon him, but
when his brother closed and barred the door,
with that horrible groaning outside, an inkling
of the truth flashed upon his mind.

“ What is this-what do you mean Jacki" he
gasped, bewildered.

“ It means that I have saved your life, Henry
for the present. But come—is the house well
secured? We’ll haveadesperate fight on our
hands before many minutes."

“Yes—all is secure. But explain—I don’t -
iiiggatand. You are not hurt—that man
i

“No, I am well. That was part of a plot.
But first—out with the light, then and tell
your wife that on are safe. Te her that
there is no real anger, for we can easily beat
them off until day, and they’ll not dare stay
longer, for fear of the neighbors. Go now—then
hasten back here.”

Henry Colton followed his brother's advice,»
for he heard his aflrighted wife calling his
name in anxious tones from the upper half-
story, that answered for sleeping apartments.
A true woman of the border, she felt safe on
seeing him unhurt, and stilling the child, she
hastily dressed and followed her husband to the
lower floor.

“Mary, this is no place for you.” murmured
Hen as she glided to his side. “ Go and stay
with ommy. There may be danger here.”

‘ ‘,‘ No more to me than to’you, Henry. I can
load your weapons for you, if you have not
time. No-I will not go. Tommy is safe up-
stairs, and my place is here beside you.”

“ Let her sta , Henry. It will show me what
I have to me e amends for. Mary,” added-
Jack, his voice sounding husky, “ while I have
time, let me my your forgiveness. I was
drunk and hag-crazy, or I would have known
better than to have insulted you. You will try
and forget my words?” '

“ Yes—and we will be true brother and sister
after this. You cannot guess how deeply it
hurt me, knowing that I had caused hard feel-
ings between you and Henry.”

‘ He was right—it was my fault. But I‘ll
make amends, if my life is spared."

His brother understood this last remark.
though Mary did not, for Jack had, in a'few
hasty words, told him all. How, when driven
from his home by his only brother, he had fallen
into the tempter’s snare. and become one of
Jasper Morton’s “ Night Hawks.” He told him
too of the death-doom sworn by the outlaws,
and that while one of the Night Hawks lived,
neither would be safe from danger. It was this

thought that clouded both their brows.
Henry Colton marveled greatly tint no at—
tack had been made, though full quarter of an

tell of Thompson, ’

hour had elapsed since

» J

    
 

 

  

s x

The Girl Rider.

 

but a word from Jack explained this. The
Night Hawks, busy plundering the stables and
corral no doubt fancied that the death-cry pro-
ceeded from the settler, and that the chesen
executioner had done his work well. But they
would soon discover the truth, and then——

“Hal it’s coming now!” muttered Jack 001-
ton, in a low, strained tone, as a peculiar whis-
tle came faintly to their ears. “That’s Mor-
ton’s signal to Thompson.”

“Stand in this corner, Mary, out of range.
We must show the devils no mercy now, and
remember that the more we lay out to—night,
the less we will have to fight in the future,"
steme added the settler.

“ If the moon only shone brighter!” muttered
Jack, his eyes gleaming viciously. “I’d iv’e
my left hand for a fair shot at that devil, or-
ton!

“I know him now. If he’s wise, he’ll keep
out of range. L0ukl yonder they come!”

The rifles of the brothers clicked ominously,
and then two dark muzzles protruded slightly
from the smallloopholes. The houss had been
built with an eye to defense against the Indians,
though until now the settler had been unmo-
lested. The outlaw whom he had shot he de-
tected riding of! on a valuable stallion, the day
before, and at his rifle’s crack, Israel Hackett

. fell dead. Horse-stealing was regarded as an
Even more heinous crime than murder in those

a s.

asper Morton had chuckled flendishly as he
heard the shot and death-cry. He believed
that his plans had been successfully carried
out. But he became uneasy at the long delay
of his acolyte, and ave the signal as stated.
No answer coming, e began to suspect the
truth, and mustering his men, was now ap-
proaching the dark and silent building.

“ When you aregure of your aim, Jack,” mut-
tered Colton, “tell me.”

I“ I’m ready now.”

“ Them-fire!”

I Two whiplike reports rung outupon the clear
night air, sounding almost like one. Two of
the Night Hawks fell to the ground, writhing in
their death-agonies. Wild cries broke from the
survivors, and with one accord they broke and
,fled, seeking the nearest cover, for the moment
completely demoralized.

The brothers laughed, and quietly reloaded
their weapons. But Mary seemed greatly agi-
tated. As Henry noted her pale and frightened
face. she murmured:

“ What if they fire the house 7"

C‘l‘gy God! I did not think of that!” gasped

o n.

 

CHAPTER III.
THE MIDNIGHT CONFLICT.

A STRANGE fear filled the breast of the young
hunter, Nimble Ned, as he dashed away over
the prairie, his eyes riveted upon the point
where he had last seen his friend in hot pursuit
of the weird rider. And yet, had he attempted
he could not have given expression to this dread
in words. I r

Something seemed to tell him that Fred

wksley was runnin blindfold into a deadly
peril—the more to he readed because unknovyp.

That mysterious Girl Rider was acting the part
of a decoy.

All the rumors that he had ever heard of her
now flashed across hi! mind. Until this night
he had treated them With contempt, believing
them mere fabrications, or else finding birth in
a superstitious imagination.

Aside from his peisonal friendship for Fred,
another inducement spurred Ned on. Rumor

dered his heart to fair Fannie Hawksley, Fred’s
sister, and for once the owner was correct.

When they set forth upon their hunt, Fannie
laughingly bade him take good care of Fred,
though there was an undercurrent of serious-
ness in her tones that Ned understood. He
knew that Hawksley was rash and adventurous,
even to foolhardiness when his blood was fairly
aroused, and he had promised her to take care
that he returned all right.

A sudden cry broke from Ned’s lips, and be
cast a rapid glance around. He saw that the
moonlight had deceived him—that he was at

All was plain to him now—the mystery was a
m stery no longer.

‘ The barranca—they are there—it must be
so! But how—my God! can that girl have been
a 'rit ?”

he ranger reeled in his saddle. The strange
events of that night had unmanned him, and
wild fancies took possession of his brain. Be
half believed that this Girl Rider was nothing
but a delusion—a hantom who had lured his
young friend on to is death, by a fall down the

arranca that, though still invisible, be Well
knew lay before him at only a few yards’ dis-
tence.

His mind a strange medley, Ned ur ed his
horse forward, and in half a. dozen more ounds
stood upon the verge of the barranca ,' a deep,
narrow ravine, with almost perpendicular sides,
the bottom thickly strewn With jagged bowlders
of different sizes. ‘

He peered down into the darkness, his horse
slowly trotting along the escarpment toward the
north. I '

Suddenly Ned gave vent to a cry. Close be-
fore him seemed a narrow pathway leading down
into the ravine.

He urged his horse forward, and descended
below the level of the prairie. But a very few
moments convinced him that even if he could
descend to the bottom, he could do little good
without lights, and turning, be scrambled once
more to the level ground.

He saw that his comrades had come up, and
were now standing as if amazed. His was the
figure that drew the cry of astonishment from
Craig Fenton.

“ Quick, boys,” cried Ned, riding toward
them, “ dismount and get something for torches.
They must be down there—but whether dead or
alive God only knows!”

, “ cu think that she—" began Fentou, in a
low, hushed voice.

“I don’t know—«I am afraidtothink. But
don’t talk—make haste. We must search the
ravine.”

The woods were near, and the oun hunters

 

well knew what to select for torc cs. 11 a few

 
 

had it that the handsome hunter had surren-'

least a mile further west than he had believed. '

    

 

 
 

 

  

   
   
  
 
 
   
 
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  

 

l;

 

The Girl Rider. . 9

 

,minutes they were back to the edge of the bar-
'ranca, where Ned had already kindled a light
with his flint and steel.

Bearing the feeny flickering torches, the
party descended into the barranca by the ’Fath
that, though rough, was amply wide. hey
slowly advanced a ong the rough, rock—strewn
bottom, holding aloft their torches, expecting
with each movement to come upon the dead and
mangled form of their young friend.

The flaring lights caused the shadows to dance
and move weirdly, and a dozen times in as
many minutes, their hearts were set in a wild,
sickening shudder as one of their number be«
lieved he beheld the object of their quest. But
as often the mistake was proved.

The search was continued in silence. None
cared to speak. The same superstitious feeling
was upon all. All in all, the night was one not
soon to be forgotten.

They had carefully searched the barranca up—
on. both sides of the spot for which the trail had
poxnted, and yet nothing was discovered. They
interchanged glances. Could it be that the chase
had turned and skirted the ravine?

Ned then said: .

“ Give him a salute. He may be in here, ,hunt-
ing for the girl, if she hid from him. It can do
no harm. and may do good. If alive and within
hearing, Fred’ll answer.”

The rifles were discharged. one quickly suc-
ceeding the other, and then all listened breath-
lessly. Minute after minute pasSed by, without
any reply. Campbell drew a long breath.

“ Well, let’s go. If he is in here, he will not
mind a little delay—for he must be deadl”

Slowly the little party retraced their steps
and emerged from the barrow. . Mounting
their horSes they rode slowly 03 along the edge
of the flinty ground, scattered at r inter-
vals from that to the trees, in order that, should
one overlook the trail, another might find it.

“ Hal listen—you hear that?"

Ned’s voice trembled with excitement.

Two muffled re rte came roaring over the
firairie, unmista ably that of firearms. All

card them, and for a moment believed that it
was Hawksley signaling to them. But then
Ruel—the keenest car, by far, among them,

cried:

“ Ef it’s Fred, he’s at Colton’s. Them shots
Renters”.

e at y ave one there—and if he ’
why would he fire?” 3 dld’

“He wouldn’t—’tain’t him.. Boys, on hear
me; thar’s trouble tharl" muttered uel, as
several more reports—sounding confused as
though fired in an irregular volley—came taintly
to their ears. ~

“ That’s so—ride now, boys; never mind the
horses. There's more at stake than their lives!”
gutted Campbell, for the moment forgetting
the strange disappearance of his friend, in the
knowledge that others were threatened.

‘f Ha—lookl”

Ned it was that spoke, but the gesture of his
outstretched hand was unheeded. 11 eyes he-
held the same object, and easily interpreted its
meaning.

.Sweeping round a timber island, a thrilling
eight burst upon their gaze. A bright glare

D

 

was rapidly ascending to the heavens, spread',
and growing more and more vivid With each
moment. Once glancetold them the meaning of
this. A house was burning—the house of their
friend and neighbor, Henry Coltonl

That this was the result of no accident was
equally plain, for a%ain there broke forth the
significant crash of rearms. It meant murder
and rapine.

“ We must make it, boys, whether it kills the
horses or not!” gritted Ned. “ One more dash,
and we’ll do—naw I”

With the words spurs were plunged rowel
deep into the already dee ly-scored sides of the
tortured beasts, and wit wild orts of in
and terror, they dashed madly toward the ril~
liant light. Holding their breaths, the youn
hunters handled their weapons and prepar
for the result. The half-mile was lessened to
one-half, that to a third, and still the animals
thundered on.

A stumble—an eln" ost human groan of agony,
and one horse is down, the hot life-blood spurt-
ing from his mouth and nostrils. It is that of
Ruel. The tall hunter was pre ed for this.
He felt the noble brute’s sides on apse and with
a nimble spring, alighted softly upon his feet.

“ Good—hurry up, Ruel,” cried Ned, who had
witnessed the act.

“Bet ye—I’ll be tharl” and the hunter
bounded forward like a deer.

It may seem strange that the Night Hawks
take no alarm at this approach, but they did
not. The prairie grass was thick, the turf moist
and springy;the burning buildi roared and
cracked loudly, and they were a intent upon
watching the doors, knowing that the inmates
must soon emerge or else die a. horrible dath
in the flames. ~

They had not long to wait. Those within
were not men to die tame] , while a chance re-
mained to deals. blow at eir enemy. To stay
within was certain death. To come out seemed
equally hopeless, yet they chose this alter-
native. .

The front door was flung wide and two forms
sprung out into the o n air, with cocked and
leveled rifles. A re ling volley was fired at
them, but their movements were so quick, their
chau eot position so abrupt, that most of the
missi es went wide of the mark.

One fell to his knees—it was Henr Colton.
A wild shriek was added to the tumult, and
Mary, his wife, who had been forced to remain
behind while the men drew the fire of the
Night Hawk, sprun .out, her little boy clasped ‘
to her breast, an flung herself beside the
wounded settler. l

Colton seemed invigorated by her presence
and once more sprung erect, his rifle echomg
the death-knell of an outlaw. Then a wild cry
broke from his lips as he sunk back. He caught
sight of the rescuers. . ,

A hoarse cheer—a deadly volley—then the
young hunters sprang from their twmh
animals, and with drawn pistols rushed toclose
quarters. But the Night Hawks didnottarry
to test their metal. 

As a band they were annihilated. Two-
thirds of their number had fallen, what With
the are at the bemeged and this Withenng vol-

 

 

1 0 The Girl Rider.

 

ley, discharged “as they all rushed forward to
complete their murderous work. With cries of
terror the survivors turned and fled for their
gell‘lses, followed by a rapid discharge of pistol-

u ets.

Jack Colton had escaped the storm of bullets
that saluted their bold dash from the blazing
building, and, recognizingI his now deadly ene-
my, Jasper Morton, the ight-Hawk chief, had

at him. The outlaw staggered, but did
not fall, and he was one of the ew that gained
their horses.

With a curse of rage Colton dashed aside his
useless rifle and sprung after Morton. There
was reason in his action, for he knew that his
fife“! would be in peril as long as the outlaw

v .

Twice he fired, but without apparent efi’ect.
The Night-Hawk leader sprun into asaddle,
then urged his horse to rapi flight. Colton
prompt] imitated his action, and the two, pur-
sued an pursuer, soon disappeared without the
line of light shed by the blazing dwelling.

“Look to these devils, Ruel," hurriedly ut—
tered Ned, as he looked around upon the scene.
“If any are living, bind them. We’ll haven.
hams g-bee here to-morrow I"

“ h, Ned!” sobbed Mrs. Colton, “come to
Henry nick! He‘s dying!"

“ No— e’s only hurt a little, not much. He‘ll
be all ri ht in a minute or two,” soothineg ut—
tered ed, though far from being so confi-
gong” in his heart. " How is it, Colton, old fel-

ow

The settler smiled faintly, then murmured
his wife’s name. She was beside him in a mo—
ment, and then, with her hand clasped in his, he
swooned.

“ Now, Mary," uttered Ned, as firmly as he
could, “be strong—news yourself, for on you

yde nd Henry’s life. If you take on this
way, it' 1 kill him sure!"

‘ I will——-I’ll be calm. But is there hope—he is
not dead?" 4 ‘ ’

“Pooh! far from it. You’ll not be a widow
for many a long year yet, my dehr sister. It’s
only, loss of bond, with the excitement, you
see.

While he spoke, Ned was carefully examinin
Colton’s wound, and to his great joy, foun
that he had told the truth unknowingly. Only
one bullet had struck him, severing a minor ar-
tery in the left thigh, causing a profuse flow of
blood, but nothing that rest and quiet would not

cure.

“ What d' y’ think, Nedl" muttered Ruel, his
face black with suppressed anger. “ What d’ y’
think them imps hev done?”

“ What?” demanded Ned. alarmed.

“ghot them dorgsl Every one—dead es 3.

nit!
You startled me half to

“ Is that all?
death I”
“ All—all! Them dorgs —the best in Texas—-
‘ truer’n death—oh, thunder!" spluttered Rue].

“ Never mind ’em. Are there any horses
around besides ours?"

“ Yes, them what was rid by those car’on.”

“ The boys must ride further then. We must
tones the neighbors. Colton and his wife need
care, and then we must hunt down the “1131115

-the horses that the Night

 

that escaped. Besides, there‘s Fred—he must be
found.”

With a grieved look at the carcasses of his fa-
vorite “ dorgs,” Ruel strode off to set the hunt-
ers at work. An hour later, the wounded man
and his wife were on the way to shelter, and
Ruel was leading the hunt after those who had
killed his dogs. /

 

CHAPTER IV.

THE BARRANCA MYSTERY.

11' was a bitter blow to the Night-Hawk lead-
er, Jasper Morton, to see his long-worked-for
revenge thus snatched from his very grasp, just
as the game seemed entirely in his own hands.
Long~worked-for, we say, for the reader must
have seen that his was no common enmity to-
ward the two brothers; why, may be explained
hereafter.

Morton recognized the rescuing party, and
knew that all was lost. Few among that picked
band but would have been a good match for
him single—handed, even before he received the
wound that well-nigh disabled his left shoulder.

With a bitter curse at his ill—luck, the outlaw
sprung upon his horse, and plungin spurs
viciously into its ribs, dashed off in rapi flight.
Three others imitated his example; either from
chance or a hope that the young hunters would
not separate, each outlaw chose a separate
course, riding for dear life.

As we have seen, Jack Colton marked his
enemy, and followed in hot nrsuit upon one of
awks had left fas—
tened to the rail fence in the rear of the stables.
Then began another mad headlong race, the
third one that had crossed the prairie that night.

The moon still shone brightly, and Colton
could plainly distinguish his quarry save when
a ridge intervened for a moment. The distance
separatin them was not more than two hun-
dred yar , at the most, and to his fierce joy
Colton saw that this was gradually being
lessened, and while urging on his excited horse,
he assured himself that his pistols were in readi-
ness for use. '

“ Stop! Jasper Morton—cowardl” he cried, in
a voice that trembled with rage and hatred.
“ Stop and prove your manhood—it is only one
man that chases you.”

The Night Hawk turned and glanced over his
shoulder, but instead of checking his madly rac~
ing steed, be bent lower in the saddle and urged
him to a greater speed. Colton fairly howled
aloud in his rage as he saw the outlaw slowly
but surely creeping away from him, and draw-
ing a knife, he thrust its keen point several
times into the hips of his horse.

Snorting wildly, the tortured brute sprung
for ward with a speed that seemed to rival that
of the lightning’s bolt, and Colton laughed aloud
as he raised his revolver. Another score
moments and he felt that he would be within
range.

Then his pistol cracked, deliberately, at regu-
lar intervals. His nerves were like iron now,
and he felt that revenge was his at last.

But the moonlight was deceitful, the motion
of his horse unsteady, and. the bullets hissed

 

 

 

 



harmlessly by the fugitive. A bitter curse
broke from his lips as be emptied the first re-
volver. ‘ ‘

Thrustin it into his belt, he‘again made use
of the crue spur. With wild, killing bounds,
the tortured animal brought his merciless rider
near the fee.

Again Colton leveled a pistol—his second re—
volver. At its sharp report, the horse be-
strode by the NightrHawk leader gave a sudden
hound, that told the bullet had found its mark.

The pursuer laughed aloud, and leveled his
weapon once more. The pursued uttered a
fierce, despairing curse, and, turning in his sad-

,dle, fired three shots in quick succession at his

relentless pursuer.

Fortune favored him in the result, for though
scarcely pausing for aim, one missile foiled Col-
ton’s hopes. With a shrill shriek of min, the
noble brute stumbled and fell, casting the settler
headlong to the ground. A bullet had struck
its foreleg, that, already overtasked, gave way,
causing the heavy fall.

Morton heard the fall, and glancing hack,
uttered an exultaut laugh. For a moment he
pressed hard upon the hit, as though he would
return to contemplate his triumph, but' then,
altering his mind. he spurred on.

He was well-nigh disabled, and did not know
how many or close were his pursuers. He was
in no condition for a fight just then. His wound,
freely bleeding, already caused him to feel faint,
his head beginning to swim dizzdy.

Added to this, he felt his horse weaken and
act as though falling. For a moment he won-
dered at this, for it was his own animal, a

roved good one, but then he divined the cause.

he or more of the settler’s bullets had found
their mark.

With hard-drawn breath and grittin teeth the
outlaw glanced over his shoulder. 0 his joy
the prairie was clear of pursuers. Then Colton
had been alone!

The horse twitched his tail, and his ears
dropped. Morton knew What these symptoms
meant, and he prepared for the result. Draw-
ing hard upon the reins, he slackened his speed.
It was time. The poor brute was trembling
convulsively, the blood oozing from its nostrils
and hanging lip.

Morton sprung to the ground, with a. fierce
curse. The horse staggered when relieved from
his weight and gave a faint whicker as it turned
its head toward its master. But that was all.
XVitih an almost human groan it fell forward,

on .

_“ Curse the luck!” snarled Morton, wincing
With pain as he moved his left arm. “Just now
when I most need him—wounded, too! Them
devxls Will be upon my track by dayli ht—and
where can I go? In the motte‘l The)" unearth
me there. Hal  have it—i can hide in the bar-
ranca—at least until I can pick up strength to
go further. There’s a thousand holes among the
rocks that I can hide in; unless they tr hounds,”

and he started at the thought, for he new that
’in such a case, he was indeed lost

Still'Morton knew that the barrde aflorded
him the best chance of eluding the search that he
knew would be made for him, if only by Jack
Golton, as the rocks would leave no sign for hu-

\

The Girl Rider. n"

 

man eyes to trace him out by. His horse had
carried him to within half a mile of the ravine,
and though feeling weak and faint he set out at
his best pace for the refuge, not daring to stop
even ion enough to dress his wound.

He litt e dreamed of the adventure that was
to befall him there, else he might have hesitated
before choosing the barranca in preference to
the woods.

A few minutes carried the Night-Hawk chief
to the edge of the barra-nca, and then he has-
tened along the verge seeking for a spot down
which he might clam er without too severely
exerting his wounded arm. A mutter of satis-
faction greeted his success, and Morton cautious-
ly gropcd his way along a winding trail thatevi—
dently led down to the bottom.

He, even then, noticed that his trail had been
used, but that gave him no uneasiness. So too
had a score of paths at as many different points, -
by both human and beast.

The trail led him toward the southern extrem-
ity of the barranca, and on reaching the bottom,
he naturally continued on in that dircction. For
some time hescughtamong the huge, thick-lying
bowlders for a snug covert, without finding any
that satisfied him. '

Before him loomed up the rocky barricade
that had checked the progress of the lyoung hun-
ters while engaged in their searc ’ for Fred
Bawksley earlier on that same night. Morton,
however, had reached the opposite side, facing
the north, instead of south. ‘

Among this pile of howlders Morton hoped
to find a secure refuge, and had almost gained
its foot when a low cry broke from his lips, and
he abruptly aused, crouching down to the

round, one and clutching a revolvsr-hutt.

strange object had caught his gaze—doubly
stragge in that place.

“ as it only fancy?” he muttered, peering
curiously forward. ‘ I don’t see it now—it’s

one} And yet I don’t think it was a firefly.

a .

While muttering these words the outlaw
slowly rose erect until he assumed his former
position. The exclamation told that he had
again caught sight of the object.

This was a small point of light, clear and
brilliant, glowing steadily and unchangeably.
As he slowly raised his head, Morton saw that
this only shone from a small aperture, for be-
yond a certain point, in either direction, it was
Invisible.

For a time the Night-Hawk chief forgot his
bodily pain and exhaustion in wonder. There
was something strange in this light, shining from
that lone and wild spot, and he resolved to in-
vestigate.

Keeping his eye riveted upon the star-like
point, he slowly and cautiously advanced, with
almost every step losin s ht of _the light, but
then recovering it againr n this manner he
gained the ‘lower howlders, and it seemed now
that he could reach the light by simply cut-
stretching his hand. Instinctiver he raised
an arm, then laughed faintly at his own credo-
lity.

Cautioust Morton climbed further amon
the rocks, his eyes still fixed upon the light.
fragment crumbled beneath his hand, and he

 

  

    
   
  
    
 
   
 
   
 
   
    
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
    
  
  
    
   

The Girl Rider.

 

fell forward, striking his head with violence
upon a rock.

The shock and pain wrung a slight cry from
his lips, and the pistol slipped from his grasp,
cluttering sharply upon the stones, fortunately
not exploding." Quickly recovering himself,
Mortlon glanced forward; but the light was

one
g The blow upon the head confused .him, or he
might easily have avoided what followed. In—
stead of retreating or concealing himself, as
prudence would have dictated, he remained
perched upon the bowlders, endeavoring to dis-
cover the light.

A faint metallic clink caught his ear, and
quickly following the sound, his eyes seemed to
outline, thou is dime and indistinct, the figure
of a human eing among the rocks. Only the
one brief glimpse was afforded him, for a blind-
ing flash filled his eyes-a stinging pain shot
through his brain, and with a wild cry he flung
aloft his arms, falling backward to the ground.

When he recovered consciousness, the outlaw
captain found himself lying upon a soft couch
ev1dently formed of skins, for his hand clutche
some hairy substance. A heavy throbbing pain
filled his brain, and his wounded shoulder ached
horribly.

With a half-conscious groan he raised a hand
to his head. It touched a sticky substance that
he knew was clotted gore. Then it was not all
fancy—~there had been a human form standing
before him, and the blinding blaze came from a
pistol or rifle that had wounded him.

"So you have come to,” uttered a deep voice,
coming from above or behind Morton’s head.

He started to a sitting posture, and utLered a
cry of terror as his hand sought his belt only
to find it weaponless. A low, taunting lnugh
followed this movement, than the voice added,
as footsteps moved t0ward the outlaw:

“You need have no fear, my dear sir; you
are safe here for the present, at least."

Morton turned his head, and by the dim light
saw a tall figure standing beside him—the figure
of an old man with close-cropped hair and
smooth-shaveu face. As he gazed. he knew that
this was the man who had fired the shot that
pognded him, while searching for the mystic
ig t.

“ Who are you—where am I?" he faltered,
shrinking back from the stranger.

“You are here—I am myself. That is all
you need know for a while. If you rove the
man I fancy, I may tell you more. ut in the
mean time, lie still. Your wounds need dress-
ing, and I now have time to attend to them.
Since you came I’ve been busy watching the
movements of some of your friends—a very
particular one, I judge, from a few words I

card him mutter,” and the tall man gazed
keen‘ly at the wounded outlaw. .

“ ho do you mean? I don't understand
you " he mutteral. tremblingly.

“It was Jack Colton, I think,” slowly added
the man. ‘

Morton shrunk back in terror. He was to-
tally unmanned now, and heard the name with
a shudder.

“ He—you won’t let him—”

“M lie 18 gone; but he must baVe fol-

 

lowed you close. I thought you were good
friends, "

“ How—you know me?” gasped Morton.

The strange man laughed.

” There are few persons in this region that I
do not know. You go by the name of Jasper
Morton. But I don’t think that is your real
name. If it is, so much the worse for you. You
will never leave this place alive.”

“ Mercy—what harm have I ever done you?

Wh should you threaten me this way?”
“ l. o articular harm, but you have my
secret. hat is reason enough. You may judge

whether I am a man to balk at trifles, by my
having shot you as you were spying into my af—
fairs. I have asecret and an end. That secret
must bekept from all until my purpose is at-
tained. If you come between, so much the
worse for you: you must be disposed of—or, in
plainer terms, I shall kill you.”

“But if I am not really Jasper Morton?”
added the outlaw, anxiously.

“ That matters little unless you be one of two ‘
persons. Prove to me that you are either of
those two, and you are safe.”

“ And who are they?” quickly asked Morton.

“ That you must tell me—not I you. But
never mind now. I must—"

The strange man abruptly paused in his
speech, and the wounded outlaw uttered a gasp
of terror. A Wild shrill cry—almost a yell, rung
clearly upon their ears. It scarcely seemed like
the voice of a human being, unless of one hope—
lessly insane.

The stranger frowned angrily, and a cnrse
broke from his lips. Then he uttered a low,
peculiar whistle, twice repeated.

Morton had turned half—round, forgetting his
pain in wonder and terror. As the whistle
sounded the second time, he saw a dim, shadowy
figure glide out from the darkness, and stand
before the old man.

Though he could not distinguish the features
of this new-comer, Morton knew that she—for
it was unmistakably the form of a woman—was
young, from the lithe, rounded figure and agile,
graceful movements.

The old man spoke a few quick words that the
outlaw could not catch, then added aloud as he
strode away: v

“ If he attempts to arise, Lola, shoot him. He
must not escn )e yet."

“ I do not ear him.
still.”

Morton could scarce believe his ears. The
words and voice were in such direct contrast.
The one soft and musical as the notes of a bird,
the other stern and determined.

Stran e events were crowding fast upon him
that nig t, but this was the strangest of them
all. Speechless and half-stu fled, he gazed upon
the woman before him. ever before had he
beheld such marvelous beauty—loveliness of a
fiery, yet voluptuous, Oriental type.

She was ta 1 for a woman, several inches
above the medium hight, in fact, but all was the

If he is wise, he will lie

most perfect symmetry. Her hair, black, glossy

and luxuriant, hung in heavy masses below her
waist, unconfined save b a simple band of'
beaded doeskin that crossed above her forehead.
Of a dark, Spanish—like complexion, with large,

 
    

 

 

 

 

 

 

._. ._.....__.:......l...m .Wq... -

The Girl Rider. ‘ 13

 

lustrous eyes, cheeks tinged with the red blush
of perfect health; with full, slightly-muting
lips or scarlet, rich, juicy and tempting; round-
ed chin and graceful neck, sloping down to a
bust that Venus herself might have envied; a
round, compact waist incased in a neatly—fitting
dress of whitely-tanned doeskin; leggings of the
same material fitted the round. swelling limbs,
ending in dainty, beaded moccasins.

Standing in an attitude of careless ease, the
strange beauty was gazing half-mockingly upon
the wounded outlaw, one hand clasping the butt
of a small, Silver-mounted revolver with an ease
that; bespoke long use and perfect familiarity
With the weapon.

b “ Whtohare gout?" multtered Moi-film, staring at
.er as on a a autom. ‘ ’ve seen on
befoyre—whefi'e?” ' p, y

.“ I am my father’s danghter,"and the strange
girl laughed clear and musically. “ Do you
think to gain from my lips knowledge that he
refused you? Wait; in good time you shall know
all or—-nothing."

“ You threaten, too? What sort of a hornets’

nest is this I’ve got into, I wonder?”

The strange girl laughed, her eyes and white
teeth gleaming from out the dim light. But
there was a peculiar expression to her face that;
sent athrill through the outlaw’s frame. He
had seen its counterpart once, as he faced a
wounded panther. In this woman’s eyes there
was the same cruel, deadly glitter that he had
noted then.

Morton cast a quick glance around him.
The dim light had imperfectly revealed his sur-
roundings; still, he could tell that he was under
ground. _

The chamber he was in was low and irregu~
lar, of nogreat dimensions, the walls and roof
of intermingled earth and rock. Around him
hung various weapons. rifles, pistols bows and
arrows, Indian tomahawks and knives. Robes
and furs were scattered around, or hanging
from the walls.

.The truth flashes upon him. The light he had
discovered came from this chamber, the on-
trance to which was in some manner concealed
beneath or in the rocky barricade that inter-
sected the barranca}. In falling he had alarmed
the linguistics. 'Iégen the Oil? man must have shot
9. im, in e treac erous li ht aimin
too high to produce death, thoughg a fractiog
lower would have ended the outlaw’s career
{Olivia 11 dd d

o n s u. ere again 'and the irl turned
her head quickly, the dire deepeniig in her

. eyes, as another cry came from beyond the

int where the old man had disappeared.
stiflel‘n a low, gasping, gurgling sound and all was
i
f' My God! there’s inurder oin on in thei'el"
cried the outlaw, ham-arising, hoEror expressed
in every feature. ‘ '
“Lie still—move another inch and there’ll be

murder here as well!” sharply uttered the, girl,

asthe pistol rose to a level with Morton’s .
“ Down with you, or 1 fire!” head

Morton sunk back bathed in cold sweat. In
a'few moments the old man reappeared, wiping
his hands 13;»: his dress. The outlaw shud-
dered conv iver as he noted the dark, red

1

 

stains that discolored the skin. What deed of
horgor had been enacted in that further cham-
her

“You can go back to your station now
Lola,” he uttered, in a calm, even tone. “ If i
wish your presence I will signal you. Now,
sir,” he added, as the woman disappeared from
view. “ I can attend to you. But first, let’s see
if there be any need of dressing your wounds.
A man at my time of life dislikes unnecessary
trouble. As I told you, if you are Jasper Mor~
ton, or indeed, any other than one of two per-
sons, there will be no need of dressin your
hurts, because, in that case, you must e dis—
posed of, before you have a chance to make

known what you have discovered concerning , ”

this lace and its inmates.”
“ on mean to—to murder me?”

“Exaclly—that is the vulgar expression of r‘

what I mean.”

“ Why did you take me in here then?”

“ Because—first, you seemed very curious to
learn what was going on inside; entirely too
curious to suit my ideas of propriety. So I
shot you, and I meant to end your pryings for-
ever, too. But when I bent over you to see it
you were really dead, something in your face
struck me, and I fetched you here to see What
truth there was in the surmise. Now tell me~
are you Jasper Morton; is that your real
name?”

a No.”

“Good! then what is? Remember that the

truth alone can avail you, if anything. Of
course you can not guess the names that run in
in mind. Speak out—what is your real name?”
orton’s lips parted and his throat twitched,
but he could not speak. The knowledge that
his own lips might condemn him, was horrible.
The resemblance that the old man had been
struck with, might after all be mere fancy. ‘
“ Spare me—I will take my oath—will be’
your slave, your dog, if you spare my life,” he
muttered, great drops of cold perspiration start~
ing; out over his forehead.

I take no man’s oath,” was the cold reply. -~

“ Speak out-vor- I will believe you lie in saying
your true name is not Jasper Morton and re-
ward you with this,” and as he spoke, the cold
muzzle of a revolver at full-cock touched the
outlaw’s temple.

“Take it away—I will speak, if you only
lower that!” gasped the wounded man, shrink.
log back.

“Very well. Be nick." I

“My name is times—James Mestayer,”
falteringly. , ‘ ’

“You are s king the truth?” coldly do
mended the o d man, keenly eying the trem-
blin wretch.‘ ‘ -

“ es—the truth so help me—”

“Never mind. bon’t exult too soon. You
had a brother?" . V _

“ Yes—Thomas. ' He died-was killed in Cali-
fornia.” \ "

“ What was your father’s and your mother’s
names?”

" James and Lucinda.” . _

“You had an uncle who married a sister to
your mother?” z

“Yes—father’s brother Albert. And you—e f L. ’

waaw . ..

wawmmmmenw:mmmmemg"lezmwwmengwatmn .a  W42 4...”. 

 

  

 

    

  

The Girl Rider.-

 

ou are the man!” eagze'rly cried the outlaw.
‘ You are the Barranca 01f!"

“ Yes, I am the Barranca Wolf—Albert Mes-
tayer, your father’s brother. In your face I
saw what James was when young. That was
what stayed my hand. I believed that you was
my nephew, either James or Thomas, though I
had not seen either for near tw< nty years. Then
you can guess—but no, you were too young
than, and I made James promise never to tel
you the black story,” muttered the old man,

alf to himself.

The outlaw, Mestayer, as we must now call
him — gazed keenly and curioule at this
strangely-found relation. He scarce new what
to think. Until now, he believed him dead, for
that was what they—himself and brother—had
been taught to believe.

“Never mind. We will talk matters over
after awhile, when you are stronger. If what
I have heard of you is correct, you may be of
service to me. But now, let me look to your
gurts, and you can tell me how you received the

rst.

" As the Old Wolf’s nimble fingers bound up
the wounds, the younger Mestayer told the
events of that night, as far as he knew them,
concealing nothing. He did not not fear his
uncle would shrink from crime.

CHAPTER V.
THE MAIDEN‘S PERIL.

OVER a week had passed by since the night
on which this story opened, a week during
which much had been done though little ef-
fected. Early in the day following the house-
bnrning, a heavy shower fell that effectually
obliterated all trails left by the fleeing Night-
Hawks, and also destroyed Ned’s hopes of
discovering his lost friend with the aid of
hounds.

Through that long week he had scarce rested
an hour at a time. Spurred on by the pleadings
of Fred’s sister, Fannie Hawsklcy. He searched
every rod of the barranca, in company with
Real and several others of the lost man’s com-
,rades, but without finding the slightest trace or
claw. They clambered over the rocky barri
cade, little suspecting the secrets it concealed, or
that the old man and his peerless daughter were
silently laughing at them for their molelike
blindness.

Thoroughly convinced that their friend had
not entered the barranca at all, the young hun-
ters returned to the level prairie. There a sur-
prise awaited them.

Beyond the barranca, a mile distant, they
caught sight of a horse feedin upon the juicy
grass. One glance sufliced. t was the big el-
low horse, Mott, on which Fred Hawkeley ad
set forth in the pursuit of the strange Woman.
,The animal was alone, saddled and bridled.
Nothing could be seen of his master.

All was done that human ingenuity could de—
vise, but at the end of the week all was wra’pt
in darkness. Nothing was learned regarding
the young man’s fate. nor, during that time, had
anything been heard of the strange woman rider.
Both had seemingly disappeared together, with-
out leaving an trace. _

It was night all when a Single horseman drew

 

rein before the dwelling of Archibald Hawks-
ley, dismounted, and, with plump saddle-bags

thrown over his arm, approached the front,

door.

The traveler bore evidence of having ridden
many a mile, in the sand and dust that covered
his garments, and his heavy horse-hide boots.
There was a peculiar air about him that told a
settler his occupation. Everything, from the

heavy, “ black—snake ” whip down. stamped him r

a drover.

Archibald Hawksley, a. tall, stalwart man,
bearing his years well, warmlg greeted the
stranger. Five minutes later, t e drover was
comfortably seated, pipe in mouth, awaiting the
evening meal that Fanny was overseeing.

During supper, Fannie several times caught
his gaze resting flxedly upon her face, and felt
a strange ill—defined uneasiness that she could
not entire y banish. And yet this strange scru-
tiny might well be rdoned, for the maiden
was very pleasing to 00k upon, and the drover
seemed just in the prime of life, when one’s
I(fancy is most quickly caught by a fresh, lovely

ace.

After su per was dispatched, the men stepped
inside, and with lighted pipes, continued their
bartering. Haley’s eyes often wandered toward
the house, seemingly admiring its structure, a
two—story building bein something of a novelty
at that time. so far on t e frontier.

That evening Ned called, as usual since Fred‘s
disappearance to report progress. It was the
same story of baffled search. Nothing had been
learned regarding the missing man.

Mark Haley seemed deeply interested in the
story, but could offer no suggestion that had
not already been tried. Hawksley sunk into a
troubled reverie, and then abruptly retired, first
showing Haley his room.

An hour later Ned took his departure, and
and heart-sick. For several months he had
been Fannie’s accepted suitor, but never until
this night had she set the time for their wed-

m .

“ ed,” she had said, looking up into his bold,
handsome face, as his arms tightly encircled her
lithe, rounded form, “I can not mar until
Fred returns home or—or is found. I alive,
brin him here; it dead, bring me proof, and I
will yours.”

“ it man can do it, Fannie, I will. Good-by,
darling. I will not come any more until I can
bring you tidings, either good or bad."

“God bless you, Ned,” she answered.

Ned dared not reply in words, but their lips
met in a long, clingin kiss of pureand holy
love, then he tore himse t away. and mounting
his horse, galloped furiously oi! toward his own

ome.
Mechanical] Fannie closed and secured the‘

door and win ows, then covered up the embers
in the fire-place with ashes. and taking acandle,
slowly ascended the stairs to her chamber.
Thou h she knew it not, eager eyes were fixed
upon or form until the door closed behind her
-—efias that burned with an evil glow—the eyes
of ark Haley, the drover.

Nearly two hours passed by after Mark Haley
watched Fannie Hawksle to her chamber, be—
fore he made a move. hen. with moccasins

 

  

‘ 4:;Q~v——-~«.

 

. ..-.uaI- 

 

 

 

The Girl Rider. g 13

 

upon his feet, instead of the heavy boots, he
noiselessly emerged from his room, having in
one hand a small bull’s-eye lantern, the slide
only partially turned. In the other he held a.
small patch of what looked like solid pa er or
cloth, and a coil of stout string. The ushy
black beard seemed one—sided, as though it was
false, and had become slightly disarranged.

The house was still as death. Evidently the
inmates were all peacefully slumhering, fora
time happily forgetful of their great loss.

Haley smiled viciously, showing the white
teeth through the bushy mask of hair. He
chuckled. low and exultantly. Thus far his
plans had worked admirably. The settler had
not suspected him for other than he seemed.

“It works like a charm—had I ordered all
things, they could not have turned out better to
my mind,” he muttered, as his ear was bent
close to the door of Fannie’s chamber. “ She
sleeps—I can hear her breathing re Iarly. If
I can only reach her before she image‘s. A cry
from her lips would fetch that man upon me,
and I do not wish to kill him—not yet; a. dilfer-

x ent death than a guick one by a bullet awaits

him. A thousan times Icould have done that
—but my revenge is better, much better.”

These last words were hissed forth with a
venom indescribable. Thou hhe knew it not
Archibald Hawksley was en rtaining his most
deadly enemy.

Gently Ha ey lifted the simple latch, and his
eyes snapped exultantly as he found the door
yield to his pressure,

Closing the dark—lantern, Haley stealthily en-

, ‘ tered the chamber closing the door behind him.

Stealthll , noise essly, like a serpent of evil,
the mask fiend crept toward the bedside
with ready implements that had been provided
before entering the house. Fannie breathed on,
soft and low, as he noiselessly arose and stood
beside her.

Only for a moment did Haley permit himself
to gaze upon the picture of peaceful innocence,
than he acted. One hand hovered over the
mmden’s throat, while the other, holding the
prepared plaster, clapped it adroitly over her
mouth.‘

The maiden, thus rudely awakened, looked at
the intruder with horror~distended eyes, but
the cry she strove to utter, died away in her
throat. The plaster closed her lips effectually,
and the brawn hand tightly clutched her
throat. Mark aley was complete master of
the situation.

“ Lie still—act wisely and obey, or it will he
thiar Worst for on.”

. annie, ha) strangled, asked the uestion
With her eyes—“What do you meat:l to do
with me?”

“ I_ do not intend to harm you, but you must
go With me. As the night is chilly you willheed
wraps. Promise {no not to attempt to remove this
plaster, and I Will free your hands so that you
can slip on your clothes. Refuse, and I take
you'lls you are, in night-dress alone. 'ck—
decide. 1 have no time to waste. 1' you
promise, close your eyes."

Fannie read stern determination\ln her cap-
tor’s eyes, and making the best of affairs, signed
her assent as indicated. Haley laughed.

 

The villain handed Fannie her garments, and
trembling she donned them. Haley thrust her
shoes into the pockets of his great-coat.

Scarcel waiting for Fannie to secure her
dress, Haliay seized her arms and bound them
firmly with the string he had provided, then
served her ankles the same way.

With knife clinched between his teeth, Haley
picked the maiden up in his strong arms and
rested her over his shoulder, his arms pinned
beneath her. Then he picked up the dark-lan-
tern and stepped out upon the landing.

Opening the slide to throw a faint light be—
fore him, Haley an descending the stairs.
Twice he aused an listened breathlesslyas a
stair crea ed beneath his foot, but fortune to-
vored him, and he gained the outer door in
safety.

While he was undoin bolts and bars. Fannie

moved restlessly upon is shoulder. Clutching v

her tightly he hissed a horrible oath in her ear.
With a gasping gurgle, she resigned all h of
being rescued. he dared not give the nu.
She felt that instant death would follow, and,
even in this great peril, life seemed very sweet
to her. ‘

Stepping outside, Haley gently closed the door
behind him, then with a chuckle of fiendish tri-
umph, he glided ra idly away from the house,
toward the stable. ausinp .1. tside, he deposited
themaiden upon the ground.

On] one obstacle now intervened between him
and a olnte victory, and he had strong hopes
that he might avoid this. As the settler showed
him the horses he wished to dis so of, Haley
noticed a huge dog—an almost in -blooded mas-
tifi~and learned that to his care was confided
the stock at night. ‘

A curse gritted through Haley's teeth, as he
saw that only over the dead body of this faith-
ful custodian could be hope to secure his horse.
Bending down he caressed the dog, then, like
lightning, the heavy knife was brought round,
sinking to the very hilt in the dog 5 side. A
half-stifled snarl and the huge brute leaped at

the man’s throat, hearing him to the ground
like a child.

But this was needless. The dog was already

dead. His leap had been manila: convulsive,
and the jaws barely closed upon ley’s throat.
The teeth did not raze the skin.

Flinging the body from him, Hale quickly
saddled and bridled his horse. ing him
forth, he once more picked up Fannie, mount-
ing with the agility of youth.

“ Now, my dear,” he muttered, as he care-
fully removed the plaster from the maiden’s
lips, “ I do this in pure kindnes of heart, and I
hope for your sake that you will not abuse my
confidence. It’s not likely that we will meet
.with any of your friends, but if we do and on
should cry out, that cry will be your last. on
understand?”

“ Where are you taking me? Why have you
done this? What have I ever done to you that
you treat me so?” faltered Fannie. ,

“ Nothing-Amt ourfather has—much. Never
mind now. It w beexplained to you in due
time. Until then, keep still. It will be better
for you," was the brutal repl .

y .
Fannie dared not disobey" this command, and

  

. .V  w".

 “Juan... ..

wth

 

  

 

16 The Girl Rider.

 

relapsed into silence. But with each passing
moment her natural self—possession grew
stronger, and she began to take note of the
direction in which she was being taken. Haley
made no attempt to prevent this. He seemed
to feel that Fannie was too entirely in his
ppwer to make this knowledge dangerous to his
p ans.

For over an' hour Haley galloped steadily on,

and Fannie felt her heart sink as she realized
that they were now far beyond all habitations
of her friends, with nothing but the vast, almost
limitless prairie stretching out before them.
Where was she being taken? What had fate in
store for her?
"Her eyes were closed her head drooping in
:despair, when with a low, fierce curse, Mark
Haley suddenly drew rein. With hope thrilling
her heart, Fannie eagerly raised her head, and
gazed around.

Before them, blocking the ver path the
had been pursuing, she could jus distinguis
the forms of three men. Though their features
were indistinct, the dress bespoke them white
men.

She saw in them a last hope. The threats of
Mark Haley were forgotten or disregarded. In
a clear, imploring voice she cried out:

“ Help—for the love of God, save me!”

With a snarling curse, Haley lifted his
clinched fist and drove it forcibly full between
her eyes. With a convulsive shudder, Fannie‘s
head drooped, and she lay a lifeless weight upon
his arm.

“ Hallow! what’s the meanin’ 0’ all this, any-
how?” grufl‘ly demanded one of the three men,
swing forward, his rifle-muzzle in advance.
“ hat ye ot thar, mister?”

“ None 0 your business. Attend to your own
aflairs, and don’t meddle with mine," boldly re-
plied Hale .
‘ “Eh? es’ lis’en, boys. Don’t he crow loud?
Reckon you don’t know— Why, bellow! Is ’t
Iyou Cap?" and the man lowered his weapon,

is ace expressing great sur rise.

“ I don’t know you—stan aside, or I’ll give
you cause to regret interfering with matters
that don’t concern you,” snarled Haley, his re-
volver coming to a levsl.

‘ “ You will, ehl Is that the way you treat
old pards, J ap Morton?” and the rifle was quick-
ly raised to a level.

“Curse you for a meddling rascal!" hissed
lgark Haley, and his pistol spoke sharp and
c ear.

Like an echo the rifle responded. Then came
a shnllcry—a heavy roan and dull fall' then
“ti-(fie shots, 9. confu trampling—then all was
s 1 . '

CHAPTER VI.
was LOST TRAIL.

WITH the dawn of day, Archibald Hawks-
ley emerged from the house, and set about his
mornln duties. Though he noticed the door
was un , he thought Fannie had forgot to
secure it.

But he was not long deceived. As he entered
the stable, a cry of surprise and rage burst

 

from his lips. Before him lay the stiff and man-
gled body of his faithful mastifl.

One glance round the interior told him the
stranger’s horse was missing, though all the
others were safe. Scarcer knowing what to
think, be rushed toward the house, where he
was met by his wife, pale and agitated.

“ Father, where is Fannie?”

Pale and stem, with blazing eyes, the settler
dashed up the stairs, and burst open the door of
the room assigned to their late guest. It was
empty. The bed had not been pressed that
night. With a. groan of heartfelt despair he
sunk into a chair. Though he knew not the
cause of its being dealt him, he realized the full
force of the blow.

“Father, where is Fannie?” repeated the pale
and trembling wife, creeping to his side. _

“ God onl knows, but I will find her. That
man—that evil must have stole her. Fool that
I was, to let his lying tongue so blind me! But
he shall pay for it.”

“ Ohl Fannie-«my child! my poor childl’
gasped the bereaved mother, for the first time
realizing the full Weight of this new blow.

“ Peace, Esther,”, coldly added Hawksley.
“ We must work. Do you go down and send
the children round to the neighbors with the
tidings. Bid them come here at once, ready for
work. I will take his trail, and you can send
them after measthey come in. I will leave
plenty of signs so that they can easily overtake
me. Be sure and send for Ned. Go now—there
is no time to lose. I must look first if he left
anfi clew.”

rs. Hawksley, her terror and despair mo-
mentarily stilled by the stern and peremptory
words of her husband, hastened down-stairs to
dispatch the children, as directed, for assist-
ance. ‘
He rode out from the yard, and making a
broad circuit, quickly struck the trail.

Bending low in the saddle, Hawksley rode on
at a rgpid gallop, his keen eye, sharpened by a
know] go of his child’s peril, picking up the
trail unerringly. Straight as the flight of a
crow, for miles, led the trace. _

Hawksley’s brow darkened as he noted this.
The abductor seemed striking for the broad,
unsettled prairie.

Checking his horses, he bent down and picked
up a circular patch of cloth, covered with some
sticky substance.

One glance was all that he could iVe—then ‘

he sunk to the ground, bowing his ead upon
his knees, shuddering convulsive] y, like one sud-
denly stricken with a chill. The horrible truth
seemed plain to him—he believed that before him
la strewn the remains of Fannie, his child.

The greensward was trampled and torn, stain-
ed here and there with crimson blotches. Tat-
tered and torn, he saw a bright, particolored
patchwork quilt that he knew had covered his
daughter’s bed. Further to one side was a frag-
ment of her dress, also bloodstained.

Hawksley remained thus, bowed down in
mute agony, until the quickly repeating thuds
of horses' hoofs ap roaching in rapid gallop
roused him. Then e clutched his rifle and
glared around, his bloodshot eyes blazing with
vengeance.



“M7? .‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

«Jaw. .43

e

The Girl Rider. 1"

 

“ Hold! Hawksley—don’t fire—we‘re friends,”
cried a loud, clear voice that he reco ized
through the blind passion that possessed him.

Slowly he lowered his rifle, passng a hand
across his eyes, as though something obstructcd
his vision. He did not return the salutation,
nor speak a word as the two young men rode
up, but silently pointed a finger toward the
ghastly relics that strewed the sward.

“ My God! what is this?” gasped Nimble Ned,
reeling in his saddle, shrinking back as ahorri—
ble fear struck to his heart.

Zeb noel—his companion—did not speak, but
dismounted and slowly apfiroached the spot. He
examined the blanket, t en the fragment of
Fannie’s dress. There were other pieces of
cloth, evidently from garments worn by a
man.

Abruptly pausing he poked at some object
with the butt of his rifle. Whatever it was
seemed wound round a fragment of bone.
Stooping, he gingerly freed it with his fingers,
then held it a oft, critically eyiug it.

Ned and Hawksley both uttered little cries.
They could see that it was a mass of hair, though
the dust that covered it disguised the color.

Bhakin it gently, Ruel examined it closely.

‘ A long, ow whistle, expressive of surprise,

broke from his lips. ‘

“ What is it, Ruel?” faltered Hawksley.

“See! a skelp—no, by thunder! it’s a false
b’ard l” was the astonished reply.

“Let me see," and Hawksley snatched the
article from Zeb’s hands. “ Yes—it is his! He
——-Mark Haley wore this, and I—cursed fool that
I am l—I thought it natural! Then it is true, as
I feared—they are both dead! Fannie, my
darliu child—oh God I” and sinking to the
grouu , the stricken father burst into tears.

“Don’t bother him, Ned,” hastily muttered
Rue], as Campbell sprung from his horse. “ It’ll
be the savln' o’ him——them tears. He’d go plum
crazy else—an’ no wonder, nuther. First Fred,
now the gal.”

“ Then you think—” faltered Ned, chokingly.

“But we don’t know,” was the hasty reply,
for Bus] knew in what relation the young couple
stood to each other, and dreaded the result.
“ An’ I never give up hope while thar's a chance
left. She may be rubbed out; I don’t say she
isn’t. But why—who by? Surely the fellow
wasn’t cussed fool enough to kill her an’ then
hisself! You see some one must ’a' helped—an’
that’s jest what we must look for now. You
must help—you’re good on the trail—an’ it’ll
keep you from gittin’ as he is. Gothat way—I’ll
go this, Look cluss round the aidges o’ the
tramplgd spot. Maybe we kin-find sunkthin' to
pa us. ,

operating, the two yiung men crouched low
down, cure lly and thoroughly scrutinizing
eve? inch of the ground for several yards be-
yon the edge of the torn and trampled spot.
Their search was successful, for at almost the
same moment a cry announced some discovery.

“ What is it, Ned l" muttered Rue], springing
to his friend's side.

“ Prints of a horse’s boats at full gallop. See
-—they” toe away, and—look! See the blood—

tll

“Sure enough—plenty, too. But now the

 

question is—was thar anybody on him? Ri ht
here he looks as if he was runnin’ lmseli e.
But let that rest fer a hit, an’ come over an’ look
at my find. I want your ’pinion on it. Them
pesk Wolves hes ’most blotted it out."

“ t’s the print of a man wearing a boot,”
muttered Ned, aftera close scrutiny. “ He is
leaving this place—011 a run. See how the toes
cut in! ’

“ Right—huh”

“ With boots on, you say?” interrupted
Hawksley, who had risen unobserved.

“ Yes, and large ones too.” ' .,

“ Then he did not make them, for he left his
boots at the house, with his empty saddle-bags,
50’s to step easy," suggested Rue]. ‘ s

“ Hark! some one is coming.”

“Two, rather, from the sound. Yes—see; it’s
Fenton an’ Morley. Jest in time, boys,” he
added, as the two men rode up to the spot.
“We want you, with Hawksley here, to take
an’ foller up this trail, while Ned an’ I look to
t’other ’nc. Grupp the teller alive. mind ye.
Whoever he is, he kin tell all what happened
{Jeralnst night. Think you kin foller it, Mor-
ey?

“ Ef any man kin, I kin,” quietly replied the
little, winch-featured hunter, throwing his
bridle-rein to Fenton.

“ If you git him,send up a smoke 0’ wet grass.
We’ll see it, an’ we’ll do the same if we git sure
news fu’st."

But little more was said. Hawksley had b
this time entirely regained his composure, an ,
though he firmly believed that his child was
dead be resolved to bear up until he had
dmnh dee lfl of revenge. He,~together with
Fenton an orley, set forward upon the trail,

the old hunter tracing it up with the certainty ‘

of a bloodhound. .

Ned rode his horse, leading that of Ruel, who
preferred walking at present, though the trail
was plain enough to be followed from the
saddle. He was trying to decide whether the
madly-fleeing horse was ridden or not: adifli—
cult task at the best, unless by long trailing.

“ It’s the crittur that is hurt,” muttered Zeb,
after a while, “ an’ that too in the head or neck.
’Ca’se why? You see the drops 0’ blood is most-
ly scattered in a line, an’ on some 0’ them is
scattered dust an’ dirt.

Ned abruptly pulled up, and Rue] closely
scrutinized the ground for a minute in silence.
Then he arose and leaped into the saddle. He
had decided that the horse was ridden.

“ Now look well to your weapons,” he added,
as he set forward at a hard gallop. “Thor's a
man ahead 0’ us, an’ be was mixed up in the
scenes back thar. Whoever he is, we must

take him; but don‘t do no more’n cripple the”

cuss.”

“ We’re not far from the river, now.”

“ No. The varmint is makin‘ straight for it.
The fool! A boss thet hes lost a bushel 0‘ blood
like this one hes, hain’t got no call tryin’to cross
the ford now. I only ope he won’t drown’d
the man, too.” '

The ford was almost directly opposite the
camp, and the trail was running in a bee-line
for it. '

“ I knowed it—see, the tracks lead down into

.-._ .3. 

l
l
i
l

 

 

 

  

the water,” muttered. Zeb, his keen eyes search-
ing the further banks. “ Mebbe he crossed, but
I reckon he had to swim for it. Over we go—
it’s the quickest way."

The horses took willingly to the water, and
though at one time they were forced to swin
des rater in the raging’ current, their strong
limbs prevailed, and the two hunters were soon
in safety at the other shore. Zeb Ruel leaped
into the shallow water, tossing his reins to Ned.

Then the two men began closely scrutinizing
the ground between the river and the timber.

For full half an hour they searched without
success. It was evident that the horse had not
crossed, and Paul was inclined to believe that
the rider had been swept off into the rice water
below, when, hampered by his wounds steed,
his death would almost inevitably follow.

“Hal look yonder!” cried Ned, directin ’

his companion’s attention over the river to a ta
column of dense black smoke.

“ It’s the boys; they’ve found somethin’ on
the other trail. We'd better go back."

As he uttered these words, the tall hunter
suddenly paused, and bent his ear to the ground
for a moment. Then rising he glided swiftly
toward the arch-like opening between the two
timber islands; reaching this, he beckoned vehe-
mently for Ned to follow.

“Look yonder!” he hissed, grasping Ned’s
arm with convulsive force, his other hand out—
stretched toward the 0 en prairie.

“The strange Girl ider—tho one that de-
coyed Fred Hawksley from us!” gasped Ned in
wonderment.

“ It’s her—shurel Kin you take her? Your
critter's fresh. Ketch her an’ you kin tell whar
Fred’s gone to.”

"I’ll do it or kill my horse.
Ruel.” excitedly muttered Ned.

“Easy—-she’s comin’ closter. Look to your
girth—see that it don’t fail ye now. Ef you
cain’t do better, drop ’ither her or her critter.
Hal she has caught sight 0’ you. Durn it! why
didn’t we hide closter?"

It was true. Upon a ridge scarcely a mile
distant was the strange woman, riding the
spotted mustang that had served her so Well
when Fred Hawksle was in pursuit. The sun
shining brightly; ha outlined the two hunters
clearly against the open background, and she
had evidently caught sight of them, for she

'drew rein, gazing in their direction with one
hand shadin her eyes.

As Ned eaped upon his big bay horse,
she wheeled the mustang and dashed back over
the swell like an arrow. Touching his mettled
horse, fairly warmed to his work by the morn-
ing's ride, Ned sped swiftly over the rolling
prairie, almost in the same tracks that he had
madeaweek before, when pursuing the same

, creature. Would this chase end as disastronsly?
His brow darkened and his teeth gritted fiercely
as be resolved to give the race a different ter-
mination.

A fierce Joy filled the young ranger’s heart ar
the woman rider again ap ared in sight, for
he could see that already be {Ed lessened the in—
terval between them. Both animals evidently
were fresh, and it was to be a test of their su-
periority—a war of races.

Stand aside,

K

The Girl Rid er.

 

As the woman neared the timber point, she
turned her head and glanced back over her
shoulder. Ned almost fancied that he could de—
tect her scornful, taunting laugh as she waved a
hand toward him, then bending forward, disap-
peared behind a clump of trees.

“Now I will know-if she is gone, then I
have her foul. I’ll solve the mystery of Ford’s
disappearance, and that too before this day’s
sun sets!” he muttered, as his spurs rankled the
big horse’s sides.

In a few moments he also rounded the point
of trees, and abruptly pulled up his horse, with
a low cry. As he sus ted, the prairie was
open and untenanted. be strange rider had
disappeared.

But then as he glanced downward at the
tracks of the spotted mustang, Ned saw that
they turned abruptly to the right, running close
to the underbrush, instead of heading for the
barranca.

 

CHAPTER VII.
0N GUARD.

Nmenn N an sat his horse with an air of ir—
resolutiou. For a moment he appeared at a loss
what course to pursue.

He glanced
column of smo 6 had disap ear-ed. Evidently
Zeb Ruel had regained the other party.

Ned was in a quandar whether to hasten to
join them, to search for annie, or to follow up
the faint clew that lay before him, which might
lead to the discovery of his lost friend and nl—'
most brother, Fred Hawksley. With an effort
be decided.

“ It is what Fannie would wish did she know
it,” he muttered, as he shook the reins free.
“ There are better eyes than mine at work over
yonder, and I could do no particular good. She
would tell me to hunt for poor Fred."

Ned was following the trail of the spotted mus-
tang, bending low in his saddle, for the ground
was rapidly becomiui more hard as be advanced,
and the small boats ad not cut doe ly into the
turf. Though keen-eyed, the young hunter soon
found that he must dismount, or run the risk of
losing the trail altogether.

Like a well-trained do , the big bay horse fol-
lowed him at a little istance. Step by step
Ned picked up the trail, that gradually grew
fainter and more indistinct.

A strip of flinty ground, led from the bar-
ranca clear to the minth edge. At the edge
of this strip all traces ended.

One glance decided this, and then Ned skirted
the further side, until at the underbrush. He
saw theta horse could not have forced a passe e
into the timber without leaving unmistakab e
traces of so doing. A grim smile lighted up his
countenance. He knew now that the barranca
contained his quarr . _ ’

“ So much settl ,” he muttered, triumphant-
ly. “ I don’t think the time is lost. for now I
will have onl one side to watch. Come, miss,
madam, whic ever you may be. I think you

will find it harder to pull the wool over my eyes
now than last week. It's you and I for it now
and the smartest brain wins.”

Signing for his horse Hollow him, Ned

,9

 

(thickly around him. The black ‘

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jar

ii
i

 

 

The Girl Rider.

i9

 

looked to his rifle and glided toward the edge of

the barramm. e paused upon the edge, and

while closely scrutinizing as much of its bottom

35 plossible from his position, he meditated
eep y.

“We plain," he muttered finally, “she took
the piebald with her, else l must have seen its
weeks. There are places where a horse can be
concealed down there, but not many. Now,
shall I go down and hunt her out!”

He soon discovered a path, narrow and steep,
yet amply wide enough to permit a sure—footed
horse to ascend or descend Without much diffi-
culty, leading down to the bottom of the ravine.

' His keen eye could detect the signs of boots
0

i

having pressed its surface, though
could only be surmised.

“ It leads in the right direction, too—that is,
toward the pile of rocks. Somewhere near that
I believe has the secret. If so, the game’s
mine.”

The young hunter had decided upon his course.
Craft and cunning must be his aid now. The
stakes played for were far too important to be
lost by a rash or premature move.

Motioning his horse to remain stationary, Ned
hastened to the timber and soon secured several
small leafy branches, and a handful of dried
grass. Holding these, he glided cautiously along
the escarpment, his eyes closely scanning every
foot of the bottom.

He neared the rocky barricade without dis-
covering anything that could possibly afford
concealment for a horse, and then, crouching
down, he narrowly examined the pile.

’Then, with strips cut from his hunting—shirt,
be carefully bound the twigs and dried grass
‘upon his  and shoulders, in such a manner
that his ViSiou was unobstructed, while conceal-
111% his form.

or . two hours_ he lay motionless. patiently
watching, only shifting his gaze occasionally up
the barranca, to make sure that his quarry was
not escaping him in that direction. As he can-
tiously turned his head toward the barricade,
alter one of these glances, a glow of light filled
his eyes, and he started convulsivély.

He saw that his surmises were well-founded.
Before him stood the woman—the strange rider
whom he firmly believed to be a decoy for some
deg) and [subtle purpose.

chad tune but for the one glance for then
theviswn disappeared like magic. how, was
Elam. He could still see the dark niche that
er form had filled, and he knew that this must

w recently

be the entrance to some underground retreat.

His resolution was taken in a moment. He
forgot his usual prudence, in the thought that
the solution of his friend’s strange disappear-
ance lay within his grasp. He did not give a
thought to the day or he might be running, nor
of the force hemig t encounter in his search for
the strange woman.

“Run to earth at last!” he muttered, as he
looked to the caps of his revolvers. “You shall
not escape me this time. I’ll know where Fred
is, if I have to force the words from your lips.”

Ned critically scanned the side of the bar—
rarwa beneath him. It was precipitous, and
yet he did not like to lose the time for going up

to the path. 30 lowering himself by the hands“

 

he drop lightly to the rocky ground beneath,
acoomp ishing the feat in safety.

Drawing a revolver, he cautiously neared the
rocky pile, his eyes riveted upon the opening in
which he had beheld the strange woman. As
he peered into the dark hole, for the first time a
doubt as to. the prudence of his course struck
him, and he hesitated, in doubt whether it would
not be wise to signal to his friends, knowing
that the smoke column would quickly bring
some of them to his Side.

At that juncture, a slight, rustling sound met
his ear, and quick as thought he threw forward
his left arm, at the same time raising his
Eistol. The action was purely instinctive, for
I; could see nothing, but it probably saved his

1 e.

A crushing blow from some unseen weapon
fell upon his fore-arm, hurling it helpless to
his side, then all was ablank. The same blow
had fallen, though with a broken force, full
upon his forehead, felling him senseless to the
rocks.

The sight of this strange woman had set
Ned’s brain on fire, and he acted without
the slightest precaution or forethought. Had lie

but reflected for a moment, he must have known *

that she had noticed him, recognizing the pres-
ence of an enemy, even through the disguising
grass and twigs. What else could have caused
her sudden retreat? But Ned was too greatly
excited to notice this, and he suiiered the conse-
quences.

How long he remained insensible he never
knew, but it must have been for some time, for,
when he awoke, a scene, something similar to
that which met the wounded outlaw’s astonished
gaze greeted his vision. ' The experience of the
two men had been almost exactly similar. Both
had narrowly escaped death at the hands of the

same beiu —the old man, Albert Mestayer, the

Barranca 01f.
But Ned was more fortunate, in that he found

his hurts carefully dressed. This was the first ;

point that he noticed on returning to conscious:
ness. The next was, that a thong or cord of
some kind held his feet firmly to the rude but
comfortable pallet upon which he lay.

“ Father, he has awakened,” uttered a low,
soft voice from close to his head, and Ned heard
a faint rustle there.

The voice thrilled through his brain like liquid
music. Never before had he heard tones so
sweet and melodious. In wonder at it, he forgot
his pain, his perilous situation—everything but
the voice. '

A light step echoed through the rock-bound
chamber, and a tall form'came and stood over
him, with folded arms, gazing down upon his
countenance with vividly glowing eyes. It was
the man who had called himself AlbertMestay-
er, but Nod could not remember having eve
met him before. i

“ You are right, Lola. Go, now. I Wish to I

be alone with this man for a time.” _
A light, aceful form §lided  him, and
paused Wit in range of ed’s Vismn, her eyes

resting softly upon his face. A light ol’ pity'

seemed to beam from their liquid depths, as she
uttered:
“ You will not-not harm him, father?"

i

4'."  . .

 

   

.gji-J,“ gauavml' A Vein-l

:3i

 

    

 r “fro-firm,  M

a

 

  

20 , ' The can Rider.

 

“ Go! it is not your lace to question me.
, You forgot ourself, c ild," steme replied
Mestayer, his row contracting.

With another glance at the bewildered hunter,
Lola disappeared from View. Then the eyes of
the two men met fully, and Ned read in thOSe of
the tall man a depth of hatred that for a mo-
ment chilled his blood. But then his courage
returned, and he was once more himself, cool
and collected.

“ Well, sir, will you tell me what this treat—
ment means, if, as I suppose, you are the one
who struck me in the dark?”

“ And may I ask Why were you prowling
round my home with drawn revolver?” retorted
Mestayer.

“ I was seeking for a. friend, and had reason
to believe that he was detained here by force.”

“ Whom do you allude to?”

“ Fred Hawksley. He followed your—that wo—
man here, a week ago, and has not been seer. or
heard of since."

= “How do you know that he came here?”

“ I was with the party that followed him and
her. We saw by the trail that he came here.”

“ Well, there is no need of keeping the truth
from you, for I don’t think you will ever betray

, me—for a very good reason. He did come here
—in much the same manner that you did. But
he is not here now,” and the human wolf laughed
diabolically.

“ You did not murder him?” faltered Ned.

“Never mind. You had far better he think-
ing of your own self. It maybe beyond your
power to do so ere long,” he snarled. "

“Threatened men live long. But tell me:

.~ where is Fannie Hawksley ?” suddenly added
the young hunter. .

“ What is she to you that you take such an
interest'iu her?”

“ She is my promised wife.”

“ Prepare yourself, my poor friend, for some
affecting news,” he added, mockingly. “ Your
.true love is no more. However, you have one
consolation. You will not be long separated
from her."

“ Bah! I know you are lying—I can see it in
your eyes,” scornfully retorted the young hun-
ter.

The Barranca Wolf started, and his face,

flushed darkly, his eyes blazing with anger. His
clinched fist uprose as if to deal a crushing blow
upon the pale but undaunted face of the hunter,
when a lithe form sprung forward and caught
his arm. It was Lola.

“ Father,vthink what you dol Strike a bound
an'l helpless man! For shame I”

Evidently brutal and fierce, he hurled the
v , maiden across the chamber with a. bitter curse.

For a moment Ned thought he meant to
slay her, but then with _an effort, Mestayer
calmed his passion, sa 'ug in a stern tone:

“ Go now, and See t at you kee your station.

No more eavesdropping, or it w' [be the worse

for you. Stay—1 forgot. ’Remam here and

keep §uard over this man until I return. It is
"time ames was going.”

Lola returned and sunk down beside the
couch where lay the youn hunter. His gaze
followed her motions, and t on their eyes met;
but only for a moment. Then Lola’s eyes

 

drooped, a burning blush suifusiug her rich com-
plexion. Very different was her appearance
then from what it had been when confronting
James Mestayer, under somewhat similar cir-
cumstunces.

In point of fact she wasing'reater ril at that
moment than Ned himself. The ace of the
handsome hunter had madea deep impression
upon her heart, and for the first time in her life
[Lola began to realize the meaning of the term
are.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
AT BAY.

WHEN he left Nimble Ned, the Barranca
Wolf entered the first chamber of the cell Where
we, a week previous to this date, found him
bending over the wounded leader of the Night
Hawks. Here that worthy, now reco nized as
a nephew of the old man, was idly lol ing upon
a pallet of skins, his wounds almost entirely
cured.

He raised himself to a sitting posture as the
old man entered, casting at him a quick, inquir-
ing glance. Evidently the leader of the Night
Hawks regarded his newly-found relative with
considerable respect.

“ Well?” he added, as the old man ap-
proached.

“ It is well, so far, but we must work to keep
it so. This young fellow tracked us home, and
his are not the sharpest ears on the border.
Hawksley is out with the settlers. "They ma
find this place at any hour, and then, though
could make a good fight first, my revenge would
be cut short by death. The time has come for
you to play your part. I need your help now,
because I cannot leave Lola here alone. Are
you ready to keep your oath i”

“ Yes. Tell me what I am to do, and I will
not fail for lack of trying,” was the prompt re-

ply.

“ Well, you must go from here to the Kiowa
chief Cliigilli, as speedily as possible. Tell him
that the time has come when he can strike the
blow. See—Chigilli gave this to me. It is his
totem; this border is made from sacred wam~
pum. Give this to him, and bid him to follow
you. Lead him and his band here, When you
come I will have all in readiness for the blow.
You shall have Mary Colton—though she is one
of the aeoursed, I spare her life, because I know
that as your slave, her life will be worse than
death." ,

“ You are comglimentary,” muttered the out-
law in a slightly itter tone.

“I speak the truth. But let that pass. You
must go now. You have not forgotten any of
my instructions? You remember the rendezo
vous?”

“ I forget nothing. But how am I to go? On
your horse?" _

“ No. I may have use for him. But our
youn friend left his horse staked upon the
prairie above. Take it-that will be the easiest
way to dispose of it to keep it from telling
troublesome tales. Ride out from the barranca
until you strike ground that will take and hold
a trail, then round the head of the ravine. After
that do not, spare the brute. Horse-flesh is

 

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The Girl Rider. 2‘

 

cheap, and Chigilli will furnish you with a re-
mount.”

“ But why—” _

“For this reason. If Nimble Ned is miss-
ed—which of course will be the case—search
will be made for him. His horse’s trail
will be struck here. As it leads, so will they
follow, and pla into our hands by meeting
you half—way. n that case, you know what to
do. The Kiowas are eager for scalps. Let
them take all theyican—only tell Chxgilli that
he must bring me awksley, a prisoner. You
understand?”

“ Yes.”

“ Good. Now go and ride for life. By night-
fall you can reach the rendezvous—by dav-
dawn you should be well on your road back
here.”

But few more words were spoken, and James
Mestayer left the human wolf’s retreat, and,
after first cautiously scouting the surrounding
prairie, dragged himself over the escarpment.
After some little trouble, be secured the suspi~
cious horse, and literally obeying the old man’s
instructions, soon rounded the barranca’s head,
then galloping swiftly away toward the west.

As the sun‘ set, Mestayer caught sight of the
hill—range in which he knew the Kiowa chief
was awaiting a message from the old man, his
“ white father.”

At a glance the outlaw recognized the land-
murks given him by his uncle, and he knew that
his course had been shaped nright. Ruisinga
hand to his mouth, he uttered a long—drawn,
vibrating cry—the shrill view-hallo of the
Kiowas. A few moments later there came to
his ears a similar cry, only more perfectly modu—

‘lated, and then a single horseman rode forth

Iflriilm a rocky deflle that partly intersected the
1 s. .

“ Who are you that sound the Kiowa cry, yet
wear the ‘skm of a pale-face?” demanded Chi-
gilh. in slightly accented English, his half-breed
mother havmg taught him his father’s tongue.

For answer Mestayer produced the slip of
warn urn-enriched deerskm, and handed it to

the oiief. Chigilli’s stern countenance instant'

ly relaxed, and he henceforth treated the out-
law w1th the greatest deference and courtesy.
M_estayer ulckly made known the purport of
his visit, an delivered,word for word, his uncle’s
message.

Half an hour later the chief led the twenty
warnors out from the rocky defile.
h1m, upon the broad. smooth surface of a rock,
were dep1cted sundry rude signs and symbols,
drawn w1th a finger-point covered with dam
ened powder. These were directions for t (3

dance of the’bulfalo-hunters, bidding them

asten after.

Mestayer found that he would not be able to
regain the barranca retreat by daybreak, for
the east was showing lightstreaks when there re-
mained still a dozen or more miles to be cover—
ed. Then came an interruption, before another
mile was traversed.

Events had occurred much as the old man.
Albert Mestayer, had foreseen. Zeb Ruel had
regomod the other party of trail-hunters, in-
formin them of where and how he left Nimble
Ned. n due course of time the young man was

Behind

 

missed, searched for, and the trail found. They
followed it after the outlaws had taken it up,
round the barranca, and out into the prairie.
As night fell they went into camp, when they
were joined by others of the settlers who had
turned out to take part in the hunt.

It may be as well to state here the cause of
the smoke-signal having been made. Following
the trail of the men on foot, the party had been
considerably delayed by Hawksley’s having a
fit of apoplexy, in consequence of his deep
emotions. As soon as his senses returned, be
urged them to lose no time, but to keep on the
trail, and when his strength returned, he would
follow on after them. hey did so, the trail
ending at last in their finding the senseless body
of a white man, whom they naturally took to
be the abductor of Fannie. For this reason
they sent up the smoke. Noticing the signal,

Hawksley managed to mount his horse and ride ‘

to the spot. His disappointment at seeing a
stranger was great, and brought on another and
more severe fit. While it lasted, and while the
attention of all was directed toward him, the
outlaw breathed his last. This was the state of
affairs when Zeb Rue] came in and told his
stor . After some discussion, it was decided to
go . ack and take up Ned‘s trail, in hopes that,
should he capture the strange rider, the mys-
tery might be elucidated.

This party it was that now confronted the
Kiowas under guidance of the air-captain of
Night Hawks. Mestayer was by no means
pleased at the meeting, for he saw that the set-
tlers were nearly equal in numbers to the Kio-
was, and
better armed, each man bearing a rifle and at
least one revolver, more. generally two of these
terrible weapons.

As the Kiowas were nominally at ace with
the whites, a collision might an probably
would have been avoided, only for one thing.
Jack Colton was among the trail~hunters, and
he recognized the would-be murderer 'of his
brother. .

With a wild cry he plunged spurs rowel-deep
into his horso’s flanks and sprung forward, lev-
eling his rifle as he did so. It cracked—one cf
the savages riding close behind Mestayer, ut-
(tierer? a shrill death-yell, and fell to the ground,

ca .

That put an end toall doubt. Sounding his
war-cry, Chigilli led the char e, and the next
moment the two bodies mingle together. For
several minutes the conflict raged with deadly
ferocity, but the superior weapons of the set-
tlers uickly turned the tide in their favor.

J ac Colton had singled out the outlaw ide,
and nothing loth, Mestayer gratified his esire,
though stil feeling the effects of his wounds.
Their horses came violently together just as
their pistols spoke for the fllst time.

Rearing, Colton’s horse received the bullet
between his eyes and fell, hurling Colton vio—
lently to the ground, where he lay, stunned for
the moment. Mcstayer discharged :1 second
shot at him, but with unsteady aim, and a slight
flesh Wound was the only result; than he was
forced to turn his attention to other toemen.

Chigllli gave the si 1 to retreat. seeing that

he was. owrmtche..- The bills were near a! '

he also knew that they were much ,

 

 

‘Ja.  “is. w.” aetnaamsmfifi

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

   

 

22

‘\,

The Girl Rider.

      

 

hand, and for them their horses’ heads were
turned, in full flight.

80 sudden was this movement that the set
tiers did not comprehend its meaning until the
Kiowas had gained full two-score yards the
start. But then they dashed on in hot pursuit.

They realized their error and strove to rein-
edy it, but too late. The Kiowas had gained too
many yards to be overtaken, and the cunning
Chigilli well knew what he was about. He was
rushing for a point from which his force could
easily hold the settlers in check, or at least in-
flict fearful slaughter in case they should try a
deiperate charge first.

eb Ruel diviued their purpose first, and kept
the settlers from going too far. He knew a plan
worth two of that, and as the Kiowas disap-
peared in a narrow, defile-like cleft, the settlers
drew rein.

“ Quick—Fenton, you un’ Morley come ’th
me,” he crie l, eagerly. “ Rest 0’ you stay here
an’ keep the imps back ef they try to run out.
We’ll fix ’em—hurry."

As he spoke he turned his horse’s heed to one

,side and dashed rapidly up the bill‘s base, here
steep and rugged. Though not exactly com re-
hending his purpose, the two men designate by
name followed him without hesitation.

Dismounting, they clambered rapidly up the
hill, soon gninin the top. An exultant shout
broke from Ruel's lips as he saw that he was in
time. If indeed the Kiowas contemplated es-
cape by such means, they would find their path
a gantlet of death.

The defilo alluded to ended in a steep hill up
which a horse could climb, thou h with diffi-

,culty. This once surmounted, 0. input], gentle
slope led down to the prairie beyond. Ruel’s
position commanded this ascent, and was within
easy pistol-range.

“Goo'l! we’ve got 'em in a hole, now!" he
chuckled, breathing hard with fatigue. “We
kin make things hot for ’em, I reckon 1”

But though he suspected it not, he was even
then, in a measure, bring outwitted. C'nigilli
had no intention of fleeing further. With his
men dismounted and well covered, he felt able
to heat back the settlers should they attack him,
until help should arrive, and not a score seconds
before Ruel reached his station, a Kiowa crossed
the ridge, sent to hurry up the other band.

CHAPTER IX.
A STRANGE PROPOSAL.

TEE hours dragged by drearin enough with
Nimble Ned, though for a part of the time he
had the beautiful Lola for a guard. But after
the first flush of surprise, Ned gave her little at-
tention. His mind was filled with thoughts of
his lost love, Fannie Hawksley, whom the old
man. his captor, declared was dead. Though
the young hunter tried to believe this a false-
hood, his success was only partial.

Ned was aroused from one of these fits of
gloomv despondency b a low, taunting laugh,
sounding from close eside him, and hastily
glancin up. he perceived that the old man had
taken la’e position. The almost diabolical
expression of triumph that rested upon his face
startled the young hunter, and be resolved to
give his enemy no mare such gleeful moments.

 

 

“Who are you that my misery should give
you so much pleasure?” he demanded, With ill-
concealed curiosity.

“ I promised to tell you—and this is as good
a time as any to keep my word," slowly replied
the old man, sinking down upon the rude stool
that had been so recently occupied by a much
more agreeable figure. “ You may or you ma
not remember something of the matter, when
tell you that my name is Albert Mestayer."

As he spoke, is gaze was riveted firmly upon
the young man’s countenance. Though ex~
pressing curiosity, there was no change to in-
dicate that Ned had ever heard of the name be-
fore.

“ I see you do not know—I might have known
that they never would have told you. It is well.
You will not beso prejudiced, and will be more
likely to do me 'ustice. Now listen well, and
you will see why hate your family and that of
Hawksley.

“We three were close neighbors living then
in the southern part of Illinois. Almost from
childhood we had been playmates and bosom
friends. And such we might have remained to
this day, only for the treachery of one—-—:;f
Eggsmpher Hawksley, the brother of Archi-

“ We three men married, but he—Chris—-was
single. Though living with his brother, he was
quite asmuch at home while at your father’s
house or at mine. Indeed the gossips began to
whisper that he was more so, and to point th
finger of scorn at me. -

‘ For it time I closed my ears to these rumors,
but at my heart there gnawed a horrible fear
that what I dreaded was but too well founded.
He and she had lon been intimate, and at one
time were reported etrothed, but then a cold-
ness came between them, and she accepted me.

“ I spoke to her of the rumors, but she was of
a quick, passionate temper, and for the first
time since marriage we had hot and angry
words together. She refused to answer me,
saying that I insulted her by the suspicion.
While still angry, I met Christopher Hawksle
and forbid him ever entering my house, or a -
dressing my wife at anytime or place where
they might chance to meet.

“He seemed surprised—I thought then that
he looked guilty, and I could scarcely keep my
hands from his throat. But I did, and went
home with a heart still more bitter and wicked.

“Three days after this. as Ireturned from
the field somewhat earlier than usual I saw
Hawksley parting from my wife at the door.
They seemed frightened and confused at my up.
pearanoe, and I dare say they had cause.

“The next I remember is finding myself
standing over his senseless body. But 1 had
beaten him almost to death with my fists. ‘

“ Well, the word soon spread that I had bru-
tally murdered the man, and the excitement
was great. Hawksley was one of those general
favorites, half-fool, half-rogue, Who'spent his
money with a lavish hand. making friends with
everybody. while I, naturally reserved, had be-
come morose and unsociable since these sicken-
ing rumors began to meet my ear. So you see it

me,

 

took very little to get up a hue and cry against

 .. .. in:

 

  
 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘ cent.

forward.

one talking in a dream.

The Girl Rider. 23

“ Arch Hawksle came and removed his bro-
ther. That night, t ough the doctors pronounced
Chris in no immediate danger, a mob, led by
those who had once been my dearest friends-
your father and Arch Hawksley—came and
took me from my bed, dragging me out-doors
amid curses and threats, some even beating me
with clubs and their fists, as I was hauled help-
lessly along over the rough ground, half—naked,
only in my night-clothes.

“ Well, youcan guess the rest. The favorite

punishment of western mobs, when they do not
wish to quite murder, was given me. I was
tar-red and feathered!
_ “ After this, they set me free. Hammad, I
plunged into the swampy woods, where I lay
until morning. By that time I had in u. manner
regained my coolness, and had decided upon my
course of action. I knew that I had one true
friend near, and to his but I hastened. This
was a middle-aged negro, named Sam.

“He removed the tar, and tenderly nursed
me through a long and severe illness, brought
on by exposure and excitement. During all
this he had kept my existence :1 secret, and all
believed ,that I had thrown myself into the
river to hide my shame. Sam also kept close
watch upon my house, and when he considered
me strong enough, he toldme what he had
learned.

“ My wife took my death very easily, it seem-
ed. Chris Hawksley had been visiting her.
That was enough. I swore then that I would
have a deep and bitter revenge—that I would
devote my entire life to that end.

“ Sam was true_to me, body;and soul. What I
said was law. He aided me in my scheme, by
procuring me weapons, clothes and such articles
5151 needed. Then I watched my chance. It
soon came.

“Sam brought me the word. Christopher
Hawksley was at mIv house. I hastened there,
cool and calm as am now, though I had re—
solved that they both should die that night.

“ I kept my oath. They were together in my
wife’s room. They never left it alive. I shot
him, and entered the room. The woman who
had been my wife, fell upon her knees and
begged for mercy, swearing that she was inno-

She fell

“ His death only inspired me with a ferocious
joy. I gloried in my act of vengeance. But
when I saw her lying there gasping out her lite,
I changed. I had oved her so tenderly and
true, until she tell from me. I had idolized her
alii‘igst.’l’d

e 0 man choked and paused. N ale
and horror-stricken. did not speak. Theeng fies-
tayer, with an eflort, resumed, his head bowed
upon his hands, his voice sounding like that of

“ I raised my hand and struck her.

“How long I remained there I do not know,
but it must have been for hours. The alarm was
ven by some one who had heard the shot and

invest ated it. The neighbors came and found
me sit 3 there, her head upon my breast, her
form 0 tight to my heart. Despite this

they knew that I was the murderer. My re-
volver lay there, with one chamber discharged. I

 

I.

\

as the blue gas around the tube showed, recent-
ly. My knife—with initials carved upon the
horn handle—Was beside me.

“ They say that I acted like a madman when
they tried to remove her body. But numbers

revailed, and I was bound. The next I remem—

er I was in the county jail, tried and con-
demned to death. But trusty Sam didn’t fail
me.

“ He set me free—I have not patience now to
tell all that he had to do, but he was at work
for three nights before I was set free. Then,
just as I mounted the horse he had brought for
my use, we were discovered. Sam struck the
horse a heavy blow that maddened it, and I was
saved, though I tried to turn and aid him.

“ Yes, he—the simple unlearned ne ro—he
saved me at the cost of his own life. a was
shot, but he kept the guards engaged until I

was beyond their reach. ThusIlost my only -

friend.

“ I had only one thing to live for, revenge. I
swore to devote my life to that one end—and I
have not yet forgotten my oath. For a time I
kept in hiding, but then I set to work. You are
the first one that knows, for a certainty, how
your father died. [shot him.” r

Ned uttered a hoarse cry, and strove to arise,
his eyes blazing with honor and vengeance.
But the strong cords restrained his fury.

“ And why—what had he done to you?"

“ I have told you. Besides, I swore that I
would destroy the entire race of the Hawksleys
and Cgmphells. Boy, my wife was your father’s
sister.

Ned listened in astonishment. Until now he
had believed his father had been an only child.
But there was something in the old man’s tones
that told him he was speaking the truth.

“ I am tellin you the truth, though you seem
to doubt it. ut that matters little. I need
only tell you a little more. After l shot your
father, I had to hide again. I fled to New
Orleans. While there, I met a S anish Creole
and married her. Had she lived, might have

reformed, for I loved her with all my hot, fiery '

nature. But she died, leaving me one babe—-
—you have seen her here—Lola.

‘For a time I liVed in retirement, caring
only for my child, teaching her, as she grew
older, to hate all mankind but her father. I
succeeded as I thought. Then I left her at
school, and set forth to strike another blow. 1
found my enemies gone. They had removed,
and I feared to inquire of those who could

have told me where, lest I should be recog-r

nized.

“ For years I hunted you like a wolf—you and
the Hawksleys. I did not find you until this
spring. By chance I found this retreat, and
fitted it up for use. Then I brought Lola here.
You remember the excitement that she caused,
as the strange rider -a better name would have
been decoy, for that was her duty. I first
gained her good views of thosel hated—43ml:
how does not matter now.

“Her first success was in luring Fred Hawk‘-
sley here. Then I stole away his sister—your
betrothed, as you say. You came next. After
you will come your sister, Mary Colton. Then
the rest of the .Hawksleys. Before forty-eight

 

 

 

 

24 The Girl Rider.

 

hours roll by, all of those included in my vow of

vengeance will be dead—dead, do you hear?”

hissed Mestayer, in a low, malignant tone of
voice.

“ But Fannie—you have not—”

“ It matters little to you whether she be dead
or not. If not, she will be soon. So will you.
But I need the fresh air. I leave you to think of
what I have told you, and to compose your mind
for what is to come. If you sleep. pleasant
dreams—hal hal” and, laughing malignantly,
the monomaniac left the chamber.

The conflicting emotions that rocked Ned’s
mind on hearing this strange disclosure, can
scarcely be imagined—most certainly not de-
scribed. Besides clearing up the my fer?r that
had enshrouded his father’s murder, it a so re-
vealed to him the full peril that threatened his
own as well as the lives of his friends.

Sodeeply buried was he in thought that he
did not hear the soft footfall, nor the faint
rustle as Lola, the Girl Rider, seated herself be-
side him. Her large, dark eyes were filled with
a gentle light foreign to her fiery, passionate na-
ture. and her cheek glowed with the swift flow
of blood. V

As Ned, aroused by that strange conscious-
ness one feels when being fixedly gazed upon,
' raised his eyes, his face darkenel with a frown.

In a harsh tone he uttered:

“ Well, I am waiting. Proceed. Of course
you come here to tell me some frightful story of

ow I have wronged you, possibly, through my

great-grandchildren, [or something of that sort,
and t at you have sworn deadly vengeance
against me and mine. Proceed—but for pity
sake, cut it short.”

“ You wrong me, Ned," and Lola’s voice
sounded low‘ and soft. “ I am no enemy of

‘ yours; I would be your friend, if you would
permit."

“ My friend—and his daughter?” .

“ I often think that I am not his daughter—that
he is mad—a monomaniac, who does not know
what he does or says. I overheard What he told
you, for I feared that he meant to kill you, and

resolved to prevent that, if it cost my ownlife.
It is the same story, almost word for word, that
he has told me scores of times. But—whether
thdt is true or not—I am not your enemy, since
seeing you. Before, I hated you, because he
taught me to do so. He made me believe that
all men were evil, treacherous beings. but—I
don’t think you are," and Lola drooped her eyes
before the steady gaze of the young hunter.

“ What is your object in telling me this?” he
asked, slowly. . .

“ To prove to you that I am afriend, not an
enemy. as you seemed to re and me.”

, “ Will you prove this? on can, if you wish.
Will you do it?” added Ned, with illsuppressed
eagerness.

’ “ How can I?” softly, with a quick glance at

m. v

“Easily. Unlooson these cords, restore my
weapons, our” will believe that you are a true,
earnest friend. -

“ So that you might kill my father?”

“No. I would not harm him unless he first
attacked me. Then I would defend myself.”

“ do would kill, mes“

 

“With me you would be safe. I will take you
to any point you wish, or, if you would rather,
my mother will welcome you to her home.”

Their gaze met, but only for a moment, then
the eyes of the Girl Rider sunk, and a low sigh
fluttered her lips. The face of the youn hun-
ter, though open and earnest, had not to d her
the tale she wished and hoped to hear.

“ You asked my father about your friends.
He gave you to understand that they were dead.
One of them still lives.”

“ What—Fannie—” eagerly began Ned, his
dark eyes gleaming.

“ No—the young man,” and Lola’s face turn-
ed a shade paler.

“Merciful God!” groaned Ned, quivering with
intense heartagony. .

“ Then it is true, as you told father—you
loved this girl?”

“ Better than my lifel And now—hut no—
vou are only trying me,” he added, looking up
imploringly. “ Tell me she is still living?"

“Why should I lieto you? She is dead—but her
blood is not on his hands. He fought to save
her, but one of the men shot her, as he was
bringing her here. The other—your friend,
still lives, though badly wounded. Could I be-
lieve in your gratitude, I would set both yourself
and him free.”

“ You crush all my hopes, then taunt me with
freedom. I have nothing to live for now," bit-
terlyzreplied Ned.

“ our mother?”

“True I forget for a moment. Well, speak
plain. hat pledge do you require? What do
you wish me to do?” he added, Wearily.

“Make me a solemn promise—pledge me your
honor as a gentleman to make me your—your
wife, and I will free you both.”

“ What?”

“ Let me finish. I know that my words seem
strange, but consider what my past life has
been. And yet, I have only obeyed my father.
I have never sinned of my own free will; He
thinks me all ice, but I can loveI I do love; I
have loved with all my soul evar smce you came
here. Now you know my heart. To win your
love I am willing to disown father—all else."

“ I have no love to give on. It was all hers
—my‘ . lost Fannie's, muttered Ned, yet
strong y affected by the passionate, yet pleading
tones of the strange girl.

“ You will in time—I do not ask nor expect it
all at once. I will love you so tenderly and
wholly that you must return it, in timo."

“ It [you loved me as you say, you would free
me on trust to my gratitude for your reward.”

“ And thus lose on forever! No—uol I
would rather, far ra er kill you here, then take
my own life, than to run that risk,” cried Lola,-
her eyes flaming.

A strange temptation was upon him. . Why
not diSSImulate—or even give a positive pledge,
if by these means he could gain freedom?

“ Wait—I must think of this a little.
not answer you now,” he said, at length.

“ You must be quick, for there’s no time to
lose. Father will soon return. And he is look-
ing for his messenger, sent to bring a band of
savages here. They intend attacking the settle-
ments, when your mother, Sister, and the

I can-

 

W
WWW.“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Girl Rider. 25

 

Hawksley family will ,be captured. Decide
quickly, and you may be in time to save them,"
cried the Girl Rider.

CHAPTER X.
THE CLEW.

THOUGH Chigilli, the Kiowa chief, had acted
So promptly in dispatching a runner for rein-
forcements, that fact was likely to avail him lit-
tle, for the movements of the settlers Were
prompt and decided. The outlaw, James Mestay-
or, was the cause of this.

First, Jack Colton had recognized him, and
now, recovered from the effects of his fall, was
eager to attack them. Then Archibald Hawks—
ley, in the confused struggle, twlieved that in
him he saw the abductor of his daughter.

Though it was Albert Mestayer who perform-
ed that deed, his disguise had made him look
like a much younger man, and there was a fam—
ily resemblance between the uncle and nephew,
so that Hawksley’s mistake was natural.

A plan of attack. bold and daring, was quick-
ly arranged; .

“Jack Colton, you will take one-half of the
men, and I’ll lead the others,” hurriedly com-
manded Hawksle . “ You go to the right and
gain the foot of t e hill. Then when I give the
signal, close in. But remember, the white man
must be taken alive.”

Separating, the two parties rode up to the hill
base, then dismounting, drew their revolvers,
ready for work. At the signal they glided rap-
idly along, and soon reached the defile before a
shot was fired.

Then ensued a scene of fri htful confusion. It

was not a fight that can be wn in words, for
each man fought on his own book, singling out his
toe with eyes for naught else.
' Though brief, it was bloody in the extreme.
For a few moments the Kiowas fought bravely,
but then the rapid detonation of the white men’s
revolvers proved too much for their courage,
and the survivors fled up the hollow, only to en-
counter another foe.

Zeb Ruel and his two companions, Fenton and
Morley, being out of sight of their comrades be-
low, knew nothing of their movements until the
sound of firearms, together with vengeful shouts
and shrill cries, announced the commencement
of the struggle.) ‘ Divining the truth, they began
descending the ridge side, in order to assist their
comrades. ‘

Though too late to take part in the struggle
proper, the fleeingred-skins ran headlong against
their weapons. hree rifle-cracks, and only two
Kiowas remained, standing bewildered by this
new and unexpected danger. Then, amidst a
storm 0! revolver bullets, they tried to scale the
steep hill, but are half-way to its top, the last
Kiowa flung aloft his arms, and rolled back to
th base, dead.

' estayer had fought bravely, but his time had
come. Both Colton and 'Hawksley assailed him.
Colton fell, with a bullet—hole through his breast,
but before the outlaw could do more, Hawksley
was upon him.

In the dos rate struggle that ensued, his
wounds aid in giving the settler the victory,
and ere the last reports echoed from up the val-
ley, Mestayer was securely bound, a prisoner.

 

\ “ Who is’t ye've got, Hawksley’l” cried Zeb
Rue]. coming up at this moment. “ Bellow,
Jap Morton, as I’m a sinner!"

“The man that carried ofi‘ Fannie, I believe,”
but the settler hesitated as he now for the
first time took a good square look at his captive.

“ I never stole her—I know nothing about the
matter," sullenly replied Mestayer, his eyes

pmg.

“You lie, villain!" snarled Hawksle , spring-
ing upon the prostrate figure. “Tel me—teil
me quick, or I’ll choke the vile life out of your
carcass!” ‘

“Easy—easy, neighbor,” quoth Rnel, as he
dragged the infuriated settler fmm his victim.
“IA feller cain’t easy speak when his thrappie
is shet tight in a vise. Leave the or’nery cuss
to me. I’ll bring him round, I reckon. D’ y’
hear, Jap Morton?
know.”

“I‘ll tell ye all I know. It’s not much, but
it’ll show you that I had no hand in the matter.
It was the Barranca Wolf—Albert Mestayer, in
disguise—who deceived you and stole your
daughter. You may not believe it, for the
report was spread long ago that he was dead.
Have you forgotten the man who killed your
brother, Christopher Hawksley?”

The settler staggered back as though dealt a
deadly blow. Seeing his agitation, Rue) took up
the examination.‘

“ What’d he steal her fer!”

“ Revenge. Hawksley knows for what!”

“ I (1ng on,” faintly muttered the settler.

“ He was met on his return by three men—
art of those who—who burned Bolton’s house.
hey, in the dim light, thought it was me, and

they believed that 1 had betrayed them in that
matter. There was a. fight, in which the old
man shot two, when the other made off. His
horse had been hurt, and so was the girl. She

was shot in the side. If you followed his trail,-

you must have lost it in the river. He rode
there, and seeing that his horse was nearly dead,
he shot him and sent it floating down—stream, to

cover his trail. Then he waded upstream,"

final] reaching his retreat.”

“ here is that?”

“ In the barren/Lea that cuts through the ten-
mile prairie. In the east side is concealed agood—

sized cave. That is the VVolf’s den.” . .

“And the gall" asked Rue], in answer to a
sign from the agitated father.

“ I don’t know whether she is living or not.
Old Mestayer told me that she was fatally
wounded.” _

“ A durned lie; don‘t yer h’lieVe him, neigh-
bor,” splurted Ruel, as Hawksle sunk to the
ground with a bitter groan. “ ow what of
Flred 'I’Iawksleyl An’ who is that gel that hand
a terl

“Mestayer’s‘dangbter. Fred is hidden there

but be is crazy. The old Wolf hit him on the

head with a club and injured his brain.”
“Ask him about Ned,” suggested Fenian.

“ If you mean Ned Campbell, he’s there, too,” V

quickly replied Mestayer.

“ Geslong to thunderationi A bull nestqu—
any more?” spluttered Ruel, amazed.

“No.” Then adding quickly, “ Now I hav
fold you all, you_w111 set me free!” -

Best tell me what ya,

A
J,
J,
g

 

23 u... Gm ma». '

 

“Not much—sca’cely! How 6’ we know but
it’s all a pesky lie, jist hatched up as you went
along? No, sir; your part 0’ the barg’in don’t
end ontel a’ter you show us this wonderful hole
in the ground, an’ we see how matters stan’.”

“ Come,” said Hawksley, in a strained, un—
naturally still voiceJ “we are losing time here;
let us be riding.”

“ Co—rect. Git yer horses, boys! I’ll ketch
one fer this chap. He’s got to show us the
Wolf’s den, or I’ll know the why.”

Mestayer was mbunted upon one of the spare
horses, and tied firmly to the saddle. Rue] rode
beside him, while Hawksley lei the way.

The ten miles were soon covered, and the party
found themselves at the burrcmca. Dismount‘
ing, they silently a pronched the spot indicated
by the Barranca olf’s nephew.

CHAPTER XL
unn’s DOUBLE SURPRISE. »

FOR a time Nimble Ned remained silent, deep-
buried in thought. The temptation was strong,
and he was slowly yielding to it. '

Lola Watched him closely, and as her keen eye,
sharpened by love the most intense and passion—
ate, read the quick changes of his handsome
countenance, her heart beat high with hope that
he was about to consent. The inward conflict
sickened her, and she staggered likeonedrunken,
as'she rose, muttering, in, a‘husky, unnatural,
voxce:

“ Think well over it, but decide quickly. There

 

* is no time to lose, if you would be saved. I must

seek the fresh air—I am choking 1”

It did not take him long todecide. He re-
solved to accept her terms in seeming, until he
was free. ~'

He had scarcely arrived at this determination
when Lola hastily entered, her countenance
flushed, her eyes glowiing.

“Quickly your answer—my father is com-
ing!” she hurriedly uttered, reaching his side.

“ Ixconsent—provided you assist me in freeing
Fred, also.”

“ I will—you shall never regret your choice,
if my love can repay on. But now-there’s
his step. Pretend to s eep, as he may suspect
something,” she hastily added.

Though strongly agitated, Nod managed to
quiet his nerves in seeming, and as the old Wolf
entered, his sus icious glance saw only a sleep—
ing captive an a drowsy sentinel, or head
bowed upon her breast.

“Lola, you, may go now and lie down. You
must be sleepy.”

The Girl Rider arose and retired, though with
reluctance. She seemed ill at ease, and to sus-
pect danger to the one she had so suddenly
given her heart, in the ill-suppressed excite—
ment of the old man. One hand sought the piss
tol at her waist, and she crouched down in the

‘ passage, listening intently, ready to interfere

should her fears rove well founded. ‘

The Bax-runes. 01f touched Ned lightly upon
the shoulder, then laughed aloud at the air of
'well-dissimulnted surprise worn by his face as
the young man opened his eyes with a start.

“A change in your watcher, you see; and I
wppose you think a disagreeable one. You
sleep sound, young man. That is a blessing, if

 

you only think so. But that reminds me—I have
something to tell you regarding your friends.”
“ Who~whati” stammered Ned, really sur-

prised.

“ Of Hawksley, Ruel and the others who were
with you when you were hunting for the girl.
They ave apparently become alarmed at your
long absence, and have been trailing on.”

“ If so, I don‘t see why you should augh.”

“ Because on don’t know all. You remember
where you eft your horse? Well, I sent a
friend—one whom you may have known as Jas-
per Morton—I sent him on your horse to hasten
up mg friends. Now do you see? They—your
frien s, have traced your trail out several miles
beyond this, and are camping there, intending
to follow on in the morning. Now do you see
why I laugh?"

‘5 No it

“ Bah! you are dull—very stupid. Well then,
I am sworn brother to Chigilli, the Kiowa chief.
He is Waiting for me to send him word when‘all
is in readiness for him to strike a blow at the
settlement. My nephew is to bring them on—
seventy-five strong. He has my instructions to
follow back his trail—and to kill or capture all
who may be upon it. This is why I laughed.
I have just been scouting round them, so close
that I could have picked oif any one of their
number, had that been my wish. But I have a
different fate in store for Hawksley—the rest I
care not for. Now then, you have something
more to ponder over. You should thank me for
keeping your mind from rusting—but I have

long since ceased to look for gratitude trom’, ‘

those of my race. Ha! ha!”
Ned did not reply, and the old man sunk into
a reverie that lasted for hours. At length he

was aroused by Lola, who told him that day '

was dawning. The old man arose and emerged

from the chamber, while after a quiet greeting

to Ned, Lola busxed herself with preparations
for the morning meal.
For an hour after sunrise, Mestayer watched

at the edge of the barromca, yet so close to the’

den that Lola could not put her resolve of free-
ing Ned into execution, without the certainty
of a deadly collision between him and her father,
an extremity that she could not as yet bring
herself to brave. But she regretted not having
done so, when Mestayer reappeared and made
her bring forth her pony. .

As she reluctantly obe‘yed, Ned saw that the
horses were kept concea ,
the cave. Mestayer spoke decisively, and Lola
dared not disobey.

“You will ride out along the trail that I told
you of. and see if you can see anythin of our
friends. Do not go beyond the creek, ut wait
there, it needs be, for half an hour.
not see them then, hasten back.”

The Girl Rider emerged from the barranca

and dashed away over the prairie with lightning '

speed. Mestayer resumed his position as looks
out, his eyes eagerléfollowing the swiftly flying
figure of his dough . ‘

Ned had read ari ht the quick glance thrown
at him by Lola. S e feared that she could not
effect his release until too late. His heart sunk
within him. and he closed hlsfleyee in deep and
troubled reflection.

 

 

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However, he was to be aroused ere long. A
low, faint rustle came from beyond and then a.
figure appeared at the angle behind which Ned
had frequently observed Mestayer disappear.

A face that bore an excited yet troubled look;
The large,
wild-looking eyes rested upon the form of the
young hunter as he lay upon the couch, and the

ips parted, the arms outstretched, as with a
low cry, the figure glided forward.

In amazement Ned raised his eyes. Then a
low, glad cry broke from his ligs as he recog-
nized in the figure that of his early beloved
one, Fannie Hawksley. He tried to outstretch
his arms, but the attem t recalled his situation.

“ Ned—thank God! am in time!” gasped
the maiden, dropping 11 11 her knees beside the
pallet. “Think What must have suffered. I

ave heard every thing that was said here. i
heard the lies they told you, and had no war
to deny them, for I was bound hand an foot
and gagged.”

As she Spoke, Fannie with trembling fingers
strove to release her lover, but the hard-knotted
cords resisted her eflorts.

“Fannie, my poor darling, you can do no
cod without a knife. There must be some
ying in the outer room. You will not be afraid

to look?”

“ Not when it is for you,” she bravely return-
ed, and gliding through the passage, she quickly
secured what she sought, together with a brace
of pistols that she had snatched from the table.

‘ M precious darlingl” murmured Ned, as
the cords yielded to the keen weapon, and spring—
iugto his feet he clasped Fannie to his wildly
throbbing heart: but fortunately she was the
m‘ost composed of the two. '

“ Take the pistols, Nod. You may need them.
Now—we have no time to lose. Come—you
must help me to set Fred free. He is kept a
prisoner in here. too. Hasteu—”

, “ Too late] Back, Fannie-get behind me,”
hastily muttered Ned, as the echo of a quick
stop came to his cars from the outer chamber.

’A simultaneous clxéy followed the appearance
of the figure, and ed’s pistol muzzle slightly
fell as he saw it covered the heart of the strange
girl, Lola Mestayer.

“ You free?" she cried, in amazement; “ but
come—there’s no time to lose. You must meet
my father, but it is the only chance. The In-
dians are coming up like the wind. You can
hide in—— My God! who is that?” she abruptly
added, for the first time observing the shrinking
figure of Fannie. _

‘< “My promised Wife—the one you so falsely
swore was dead.” sternly replied Ned.

“ It was for love of you that I lied; but I will
make my words good i” hissed the maddened
girl, as her bright pistol was leveled toward

nnme.

The report followed swiftly, but the low ex-
clamation that broke the air came out from the
maiden’s lips. Ned had sprung before his love,
himself receiving the bullet. His left arm hung
helpless at his side.

‘ Forgive me~oh, forgtve me!” cried Lola,
as she observed the effect of her mad act. “ I
would rather that bullet had pierced my heart
than to harm you!"

A hoarse cry came echoing from without.
The three inmates of the chamber 6 rienced
a thrill as they divined its purport. estayer
had heard the confusion, and was coming to in-
vestigate it. ,

Two clicks sounded through the chamber.
Ned cocked his pistols. So did Lola. The eyes
of all were turned toward the entrance. They
had not long to wait, for the next moment Mes-
tayer, the Barranca Wolf burst into the cham-
ber, his eyes ablaze, his hand clutching a re-
volver.

“What is this—who set you free?” he cried
hoarsely, as he noticed Ned standing erect, ale
but defiant. “ Ha! you did—waitress!” an his
pistol covered Lola’s heart.

“ No—I did it." tremblingly cried Fannie, as
as she saw the peril of one innocent. .

“You, too!” for the first time noticing the
maiden. “Fortunately I am prepared for it.
Now, sir,” he added in a cold, deadly tone,
21‘ drop your pistol, or l’ll shoot you down like a

0 .

“ Two can play at that game. Stand aside
and let us pass,” uttered Ned, as with arapid
motion he raised his pistol to a level.

His pistol spoke, and the bullet claimed a
victim. But not the one at whose life he had
aimed. The Girl Rider sprung forward, shield-
ing with her body the life of the man whom she
so madly loved.

With a groan of agony she sunk down upon
the blood- sprinkled oor, her young life going
out as she gasped a name—the name of him she
had saved from death.

With a bowl of fury, Ned fired twice in quick
succession, but the last shot was superfluous.
The Barranca. Wolf-the murderer of his father,
was dead—~shot through the brain. .

From without there came loud, excited cries,
and he had not understood the Ach of Lola.
He believed them also enemies. ut then as he
recognized the foremost. Archibald Hawksley
and Zeb Rue], he muttered a thanksgiving and
fainted.

But little more need be added, for the meet—
ing and little explanations may be left to the ‘
reader’s imagination. Fred Hawksley was found,
bound and gagged. but unhurt save from the
blow given him by Mestayer when the beautiful
decoy had lured him to the den.

As the party left the cave, it was found that
James Mestayer had disappeared, but two days
afterward be was found. Fearing death, he had
urged his horse to break its fastenings, though
he himself was still firmly bound. In the mad
gallop that ensued, his saddle turned and be,
falling beneath the mustang, had met his death.

The Kiowns, awed by the death of their chief,
quietly retreated to their hunting~grounds, and
the threatened Indian war blew over.

Of course Ned and Fannie were married, now
that Fred was found, and equally of (course, Zeb
Ruel and the rest of the young hunters were gay
and welcome guests.

Albert Mestayer and his ill-fated daughter,
Lola, the Girl Rider, were interred in one grave
upon the banks of the barranca; but their _
strange story did not die for _many a year, and
is yet occasionally alluded to in that section.

THE END. v

 

.. ".53

BEADLE’S BOY’S' LIBRARY.

 

i , .

1

Published Every Saturday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents

 

14S Nat, the Trapper and Indian Fighter. By Paul J. Prescott.

149 The Elk Demon; or, The Giant Brothers. By T. C.
, Hnrbuugh.

150 The Boy Muninn -ilunter; or, Eauinlle, the Beautiful
Amazon. By Frederic Whittaker.

151 Frank Yntes, the Young Trapper; or, Mountain Kate’s
\Vnmlng. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

152 “'lld Raven, the Scout. By 01] Coomen.
158 1].};3x-Cnp; or, Four Trappera’Among the Sioux. By Paul
in a. '

154 The Champion Texnn Rider: or,Rmi Bullaia and the
licrclllen Hunter. By iiarryfit. George. .

155 Dusky Dick’s Doom. By Jon. E. Badger, Jr.
156 Frank Bell, the Boy Spy. By 011 Coomes.
15'? Nick Doyle, the Gold Hunter. By P. H. Myers.

‘ 158 Kidnapped Dick; or, The Fate of the Fire-Fly. By J. Siam
lay Henderson.

159 Sam‘s Long Trail. By W'. .7. Hamilton.
160 Rank Triplet’a Vow. By Hurry Hazard.
161 The Mad Skipper. By R. Sturbucll.
168 The Trapper King. By Maj. Max Martino.
163 Simon Kenton, Hunter. By Emeraon 'Rodmen.
164 The Boy Chief; or, Frank Bell‘s Compact. By Oll Commas.
165 The Trader Traitor. By J. Stanley Henderwn.
166 Old June’s Clew. By Mrs. Orrin lumen
16? The Young Trailer. By W. .7. Hamilton.
168 The Specter Spy. By Maj. Lewis W. Carson.
169 Lank Lube, the Old Colorado Hunter. By E. W. Archer.
170 The White Wolf. By Edwnrd Willett.
111 The Swamp Guide. By W. N. McNeil.
172 The Yankee Paddler. By C. Dunning Clark.
173 The Scout and His Young Chum. By Warren St. John.
174 Blacksmith Tom’s Musk. By Goo. I). Gilbert.
175 The Buckukin Rider. By Guy Greenwood.
176 The Squntter’s Surprise. By M"- H- J- Thoma--
1.77 Four Fellow Scouts. By J. Stanley Henderson.
ITS 01d Kit and Ilia Comrades. By .105. E. Badger, Jr.
119 Uncle Grill’l Diflguise. By Harry Hazard.
180 The Marked Miner. Iiy Lieui. Cu]. llazeltine.
181 The Wild lluntrcnn. By Capt. Brulu Aduml.
182 The Dwan Decoy. By Mnro 0. Rolfe.
183 Job Dean’s Tactics. By Ingoldsby North.
184 Yankee Eph’s Dilemma. By J. R. Worcester.
185 The “'lly Witch’s “inrd. By Edwin E. Ewing.
186 Frank, the Farrier. By .1. Stanley Henderson.
18’? Diana, the Fair Mountaineer. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
188 Jack’s Snare. By Mm. Ann E. Porter.
189 Sam, the Swamp Scout. By W. J. Hamilton.
190 The Dashing Trooper. By Frederiel: Dewey.
191 The Boy Brave. By James L. Bowen.
1192 Sandy Bill, of Texas. By Edward Willott‘.
198 Harry Winkle’s Long Clinic. By Wm. R. Eyelet.
194‘Greevcr Cato, the Shadow Swamp Trailer. By F. Dewey.
195 The Ranger Detective. By iimry Hazard.
1916 Gypsy Mag, the Mountain “'lteli. By C. D, Clark.
197’ The Branded Captain. By W. J. Hamilton.
198 Md Croneilre’s Crinio: By Capt. Cllal'lea Hownrd.
= 199 Zehrn Zack, the Texan. By W. J. Hamilton.
200 The Nameless Hunter. By George W. Robinson.
201 The Yankee Captives. By Edward Willett. ‘
29$ Teddy’l Long Trail. By Edward 3. Ellis.
303 Old flank. the Hermit. By Edward W Archer.
$04. Goooeheod's Best Shot. By Jol. E. Badger, Jr.
205 The Dutchman’s Dread. By Capt. Chan. Howard.
208 Kit Burt’l Musk. By W. J. Hamilton.
901 Eagle-Eyed Tlm- By C. Dunning Clark.
908 The Village Sport. By James L. Bowen.
209 Buck Burt’s Pluck. By Edward Willet.
210 The Toll-Tale Bullet. By J. Stanley Hendenon.
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212 Ynnkco Drover Swipee. By Stalin Robins.
213 Silver City Tom. Ry James L. Bowen.

214 Nick, the Dcteutvve. By Edwin Emerson.

215 Mustang Rider Roy. By Albert W. Aiken.

216 The Dakota Dutchman. By Maj. Max Martin.
217 Yankee Jonh, the Rover. By B. H. Belknnp, M. D.
218 New York Ned In Culii’orniu. By W. J. Hamilton.
219 Kentucky Knte‘fl Shot. By Edward Willem
220 ’I‘rieco Frank’s Rival. By Paul J. Prescott.
221 Doctor Bug, Detective. By Lewis Jay Swift.

222 Sly Snm’n Snare. By Louis Legrund, M. D.

228 Old Nancy’s \Vnrd. By Liuut.’Coi. Hazeltine.
224 Rntflopnte, the Nabnb. By Scott R. Sherwood.

22L“) Nilet-llnwk Bill; or, The New York Sport-men’s Claw.
B)" W. J. Hamilton.

226 The Mnflkcd Maniac. By Nero 0. Rolfe.
227 Barucy’yz Bold Brush. By Jmnel L. Bowen.
228 The Deadwood Sports. By Lieut. S. G. Lamiug.

  

229 llnns Schmidt, Jr.; or, The Dilguiled Yankee. By W. J.

Hamilton.
280 Lonc Star’u Sure Shot. By Harry Hazard.
281 Mark Nlorgnn’u Monk. By Capt. Charles Howard.
282 Billy Broom’u First. Cruise. By ii. Minor Kiupp.
233 The Girl Rifle-Shot. By W. J. Hllnilton.
234 Old Kylc’n Long Tramp. By Henry J. Thomas.
23": "111 Bill Syce’n Pledge. By Edward Willott.
286 The (In-tilc-W'ing Detective. By Ed. S. Eilin.
28’? The Dolphin'u Young Skipper. By Roger Surbuek. '
238 Josh’s Boy Parda. By S. G. Lansing.
289 Lee Dukin’n Dinkulse. By Mam 0. Rollo.
240 During Dick’s Race. By Arthur L. MW“.
5341 Uncle Ephe’n Boys. By 1. Stanley Hanan-on.
242 ’Cyclist Bob Shared. By Capt. R. M. Hawthorne.
248 glfiTh-nght Joe; or, Brave. the Canine Scout. By Charle-
. |')‘.

244 Bob Baker’s Lnnt Leap. By T. Benton Shieldl, U. S. A.

245 North Woodn Nut. By W. J. Hamilton.
246 The ]Girl Chief's or, Dolly’s Droll Disguilo. By J. M.

icrri .

247 Denver Dink, the Rattler; or, The Minen of Deadwood .

Gulch. Ily Hurry Hanna. 7

248 Dim-k JIm’A Doom; or, Billy Bowlegs't Revenge. By Lie/n9.
Col. Hazeltine. ' , .

249 Morgan. the Sea Rover; or, The shrewd Scotchmun’l Scheme.
By lohn S. Warner.

250 chh‘u Ghent Trap; or, The Haunted-House limbo. By

George Applcgnie.
251 Kyd’n Bold Game; 01-, The Death-Trail Myitery. By
Paul liibhu.

252 Rnnchn Hum’n Shot; 0*, Fort Blukley’n Specter Ride“.
By George Glcalon.

258 firnfiiy Crazy Slack; or, The French Fugitive. By Harry
Mun .

254 The Fighting Quaker; or, The Dmli Darky'n Dhmay.
By Edward 3. Ellis. ‘

255 The Rangers First Cruise; or, The Yankee Tar Abroad.
By John S. Wumer. >

256 Bob (in 0’s Crew; or, The Boy: of Logger Camp. By
John Nca. Ready March 9. I

257 Tommy’s Font Pam-r; or. Si-nrching i‘or " Uncle Jonah."
By W. J. Hamilton. Rmuly March in". 1'

258 Doc ell’n Pluck: or, The Frenchman’n Flu. By Chill
Chm. Ioward. Really March '13. -

359 Rocky Mountain Burt; or,
By Edward \Villett. Ready March .

260 Rockies! Rnlph’n Rink: or
amt-a L. Bowen. Ready April 

261 Gold Nugget Dick; or, Two Boqu Good Luck. By Tom
I’. Morgan. Ready April l3.

Dnndle’l Boy's Libyan-yin for lulu by all Now-denim, Ivo'

cent, per copy, or non! by mail on receipt of ti: cent- «ch.

' BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers.
98 William Street, New York,

Harry, the Funk?!” Son 4
30 ‘ ' ,
The Tell-Tel. Claw. By

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

mm. «mm,

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

M  u... <.

 

 

 

 

BEADLE’S. POCKET LIBRARY.

mashed Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price affine Gena.

 

i Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. By E.
L. Wheeler.

iKansas Kin ' or The Red ht Hand.
Buffalo Bill. g' ’ Rig By

' I The Flying Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast. By
Col. Prentiss lngrnham.

4 The Double Daggers; or. Deadwood Dick’s De—
fiance. By Edward I... Wheeler.

IThe Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes of s
Bowery Girl. By Albert W. Aiken.

a The. Prairie Pilot; or, The Phantom Spy. By
Bulfan Bill.

7 The Buffalo Demon" or, The Border Vultures.
By Edward L. Whee er.

‘8 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By 011 Coomes.

9 Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By “ Texas Jack.“

10 Buifalo Ben, Prince 01 the Pistol. By E. L.

I Wheeler.

11 Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer. By 001. Prentiu
Ingrahnm. M 

15 Nick 0’ the Ni ht- or, The Bo B of ’76.
'r; c. nubaugi. ' y w By

B Yellowstone Jack; or. The Trap rs of the En-
chanted Ground. By Joseph E. gidger, Jr.

14 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval. By E. L.
Wheeler.

is Diamond Dirk; or, The Mystery of the Yellow-
stone. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

it KeenKnite, Prince of the Prairies. By Oil
Coomes.

17 Oregon Sol, Nick Whifflel'l Boy Spy. By J. H'. 0.
Adams. .
l .w Death-Face, the Batman. By E L. Wheeler.

19 Lasso Jack, the Young Mustanger. By Oil '

’Coomes.
. no Roorin Ba) '0 chw the Reckless Ban er.
. By Hargry St‘fGeorge. M ‘ 3
an TheBo Cinn' or The ueen of the Arena.
By milk 2;. 1min. ’ r Q
$3 The Phantom Miner or Deadwoodlchk’l Bo-
nanza. By Edward I". eeler.

88 The Son-Cat- or The Witch of Dorian. 13 Ca t.
Frederick W’hitt’aker. ’ p
24 The Dumb Spy. By 011 Coomes.
as Batiling Rube; or, The Night Hawk: 0! Ken-
v ~titular. ‘ By Barry St. George.
fl Old Avalanche, the Great Ann fletor; o , Wild
Edna, the Girl Brigand. .By Emil. Wheeler.
27 Glass-Eye, the Great Shot of the West. By J. F.
0. Adams.
as The Bo Captain' or, The Pirate‘s Da liter. B
' Roger gtarbnck. ’ “g y
29 Die]: De ling, the PonyExpresn Rider. By Capt.

' _- r
I ’ F‘.’ Whittaker
.30 Rob Woolf, the Border Rum“. By Edward L.

Whee er.

81 Ni hting'ale Nat' or. The Forest on
-.T.%.,Harbaugh.’ PM By

1 I ', NBlkaohn, the Road-Agent; a? The Outlaws'

.2 ‘ Retreat. By Joseph E. Badger, r.
83, Omaha Oil, the Masked Terror- or Dead
' Dickin Danger. By E. L. Wheeler. ’ mod

: 34 Burt Bunker, the Trapper. By Geo. E. Lasalie.
85 The Bo Rifles‘ or,,The Under ,
. ‘A. 0.1ryons. _' mm camp By

I The White Buffalo. By George 1'. {mile

 

37 Jim Biudsoe Jr. the Boy Phenix- or Through
to Death. B'y Edward L. Wheeler“. ’

38 Ned Hazel, the Boy Trapper. By Captain J. F.
0. Adams.
39 gfiidly Eye, the Unknown Scout. By Buffalo

40 Nick Whiflles’s Pet; or, In the Valley 0: Death.
By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

41 Deadwood Dick‘s les; 01-, The Pards of Flood
Bar. By Edward L. ’heeler.

42 The Border King; or, The Secret Foe. By Oil
Gnomes. V I a

43 Old Hickory; or, Pandy Ellie's Scalp. By Barry
St. George.

44 The White Indian- or, The Scouts of the Yellow-
stone. B Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

45 Buckhorn Bill- or, the Red Rifle Team. By Ed-
ward L Whee er.

48 The Shadow Shi ; or, The Rival Lieutenant;
By 001. Prentiss ngraham.

47 The Red Brotherhood; or, The Twelve Avengers.
By W. J. Hamilton.

48 Dandy Jack; or, The Outlaw o! the Oregon Trail.
By T. C. Harbaugh.

49 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustang Sam and His Bard.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

50 Single Band; or, A Lite for a Life. By W. J.
Hamilton.

51 Patent-leather Joe; or, Old Rattlesnake the
Charmer. By Philip S.Warne.

52 The Border Robin Hood: or, The Prairie Rover.
By Buflalo Bill.

iii Gold Ride, the Bharpshooter. By Edward L.
Wheeler. _

54 Old Zip's Cabin' or. A Greenhorn‘ln the Woods.

‘ By Capt. J. F‘.  Adams. -

55 Delaware Dick, the Young Ringer Spy. By Oil
Coomes.

56 Mad Tom Western, the Texan Ranger. By W.
J. Hamilton.

57 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane. By
Edward L. Wheeler.

58 Hawkeye Harry, the Young Trapper. By 011
Coomes.

59 The Boy Duelist: or, The Crdlse of the SeaWolf.
By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

60 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken.
61 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo. By Edward
I... Whee er.

89 Will Somers, the Boy Detective. By Charles
Morris. 1 -
58  Ginger, the Giant Trapper. By Albert W.

en.

64 Rosebud Rob; or. Nugg‘et Ned, the Knight 01’ the
Gulch. By Edward I... Vheeier. I
as Lightning Joe, the Terror of the Prairie. By
Capt. J. . 0. Adams.
to En garetoot, the Wood—Hawk. By no. 3» .
aug . , -

67 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By 011 000mm,
68 Idyl the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand.
By Edward L. Wheeler.

59 Detective Dick; or, The Hero in Rap. By Chas.
Morris.

70 Sure Shot Both. the Boy Billemn. aBy Ol
Coolant “' .

 

  

BEADLB’S POCKET LIBRARY.

 

71 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of a Maudie-
Boy. By J. Alexander Patten.

72 The Lion of the See: or, The Veiled Indy of Bel
Tropes. By Albert W. Aiken.

73 Photo ph Phi], the Boy Sleuth: or. Rosebud
Rob‘s appearance. By E. L. Wheeler.

74 Picayune Pete; or. Nicodemus. the Dog Detec-
tive. By Charles Morris.

75 Island Jim; or. The Pet of the Forum. By
Braoebridge Hemyng (Jack Harkaway).

76 Watch-Eye, the Shadow. By E. L. Wheeler.

77 Dick Dead- e. the Bo Smu ler. Colonel
Prentiss ng’mm ’ Kg By

78 Deadwood Dick's Device' or, The Sign o! the

' Double Cross. By 1'. L. Wheeler. .

79 The Black Mustan er: or The Wild Horse Run-
ters. By Captain eyne held.

so Old Frosty, the Guide. By T. C. Earhaugh. ‘

81 The SeaVi - or, The Midshipman’s Lego .
By Col. Progen'e's Ingraham, ”

I! Seth Jones' or, The Captives o! the Frontier.
By It 8. Ellis.

83 Canada Chet, the Connterleiter Chiet. By E. L.
Wheeler.

84 The Dumb P e: or, The Doge's Da hter. B
Captaid li‘red‘egflck Whittaker. “8 y

5 The Bo Miners; or, The Enchanted Island By
Edw 8. Ellis.

' 5 Jack Herkawey in New York. By Braesbrldge

Hemyng.

87 The Husser Captain; or. The Hermit at Hall
Gate. By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

so Deadwood Dick in Leedvilie~ or A Btr e
Stroke for Liberty. By Edward L 'Wheelerfn‘

80 Bill Biddon, Traffic; 01-. Lite in the Northwest.
By Edward S. E

90 Tipa,o the Texan; or, The Young Champion.
’By rge Gleason.

Oi Musten Sam the King of the Plains. Joe.
E. Badger, Jr: 8,

09 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, the Red Pirates oi
the Caribbees. By Samuel W. Pearce.

It Phil Hardy. the Boss Bo ; or, The Mystery of
the Stronghold. By Char es Morris.

94 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By E. L Wheeler.

ll Buck Buckram; or, Bess the Female Trapper.
By'Ceptain J. F30. Adams.

96 Gilt-Edged Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler.

97 The Bind: Steed of the Prairies. ByJamesL.
Bowen.

as The Sea Serpent: or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe.
By Juan Lewis.

99 Bonanza. Bill the Man Tracker; or, the Secret
Twelve. By . L. Wheeler.

100 Net Todd- 01-, The Fate of the Sioux Captive.
By E. s m.

101 Daring, Da the Young Bear Killer" or, The
mu or thevB'order Wen. By Barry sc.‘ George.

103'The Yellow Chief; or, The Hait‘Blood'sV
geance. By Capt. MayneBeid. I .

108 Chip, the Girl Sport. By Edward L. Wheeler.

104 The Black Schooner; or, Jib Junk. the Old
Tar. By Roger Starbuck.

105 Handsome Harry. the Bootbiack Detective. By

- Charles Morris.

106 Night-Hawk Kit; or, The Daughter at the Ranch.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

W! Jack Boyle’s Lead; or,The Road to Fortune.
By Edward L Wheelu.

  

 

we Mountain Kit, the White “mag j—
T. C. baugh. M o" 3’

ill The Breaded Band or Th Man
By Frank Dnmont. ’ ' . ‘ m‘t‘er"

110 The Dread Rider or The Tenn elist.
George W. Browne. ’ D“ B,
111 Boss Be the Ki of Boothiacks.
L. Wheeler. n‘ By Edward

112 The Helpless Hand. By Capt. Mayne Reid. ’
113 Scar-Faced Bani, the Silent Hunter. By Oil
Coomes.

114 Plney Paul. the Mountain Boy. ByT. 0. Her-
heugh.

  stem?" °' W-
m ggnsogg. Gigi: .révgfimm in the Polar
11’!  kafiugogfi’fgo; or, The Trapper‘
“‘ ill: Elitfiefié’fitgflm  1"“? W‘”
in 31,0311: gig Huh filly-00d Dick’s Home 

120 Gopher Gid, the Boy Trapper. By T. an»
bauzh.

111 Harry Armstrong, the Captain of the Club. B]
Braeebridge Hemyng, (Jack Hnrkaway). v

12! The Hunted Hunter or, The Strange Horsemen
of the Prairie. By ward S. Ellis.

12! Solid Sam, the Boy Bead-Agent. By Edward L.
Wheeler.

1134 Judge L ch, Jr.‘ or The Boy Vigilante. T.
c. Herbean ' ’ By A

1” Th Land Pinter or. The League of Devil's
Isl:nd. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

1% Blue Blazes: or. The Break 0' Day Boy. of
Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont.

127 Ton Fox, the Ferret; or. Boss Bob‘s Bees Job.
By ward L. Wheeler.

1% Will Wildflre's Racer; or, Winning Against Odds.
By ries Morris.

129 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. By Oil Coomes.

130 Gold Tri er. the Sport; or, The Girl Avengers.
By T. C. nrbaugh.

131 A Game of Gold' or, Deadwood Dick’s Big
Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. , -

182 Dainty lance, the Boy Sport. By Joseph n,
Badger, Jr.

188 Wild-fire, the Boss of the Road. By Frank Du-
mont. .

134 Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. ByOhu.
Morris. '

135 Deadwood Diek of Dee Twood; or.’ The ’Picked
Party. By Edward L. Wheeler.

136 Old Rube, the Hunter. By Capt. Hamilton
Holmes. ‘

187 Dandy Book, the Man from Texas. By G.
Waldo Browne.

188 Bob Beckett, the Boy Dodger. By Ghee. Morris. 1 '
139 The Black Giant; or Dainty Lance in Jeopardy.

By Joe. n. Badger, fr.
140 Captain Arizona, the King Pine! Road-Agents.
By Philip S. Warne.

M1 New York Nell. the Boy~Giri Detective. By
E. L. Wheeler.

us Little Texas. the You: Mustangs. By Oil
Coomee. ‘

Dashz, h unmm
winding“??wa 7 B!

_L_.

 

  

 

 

 

  
  
   
   
   
  
 
   
   
  
   
 
   
   
   
     
     
   
  
   
   
 
  

 
  

 

 

  
   
   
  
      
 
   
     
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 

 

BEADLB'S POCKET LIBRARY.

HI Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By COL Prontis In-
grehem.

16 The Tiger of Tenn; 01-. Wild Kate. Dendy Book's
Angel. By Geo, Waldo Browne.

w The Cettle King; or, Cortine'e Bight Bower. By
Funk Dumont.

W Hobby Nick of Nevada- or, the Bcampe at the
Sierra. ByEdw eeler.

16 Thunderbolt Tom; or, the Wolf-Herder of the
Beckiee. By Hurry St. George.

149 l1&0!) Beckett, the Bank Runner. By Chnrlee

we The Med Miner; or, Dandy Book‘s Doom. By
G. WeJdo Browne.
The See Treller' or A Vow Well Ke t. Col.
m Prentiu Ingrahi'un.’ p B,

 Berke: or,The Tiger- ot High Pine. By
.mgi‘ldhnnhthennehkhlknvo. BylL.

m The Trailers; or, D
‘ Peth. Joe. E. Badger, r.

Lenoe on the Wnr~

’ mack! Plnmgthe BoyBendit. ByOol. Frontier
Ingrehem.

we Will Wildfire in the Woods. By 0. Morris.
in filed "Temple. the Border Boy. By T. C. Her-
ug .

tel Deedwood Dich'l Doom; or. Calamity Jene'e
Lent Adventure. By E. L. Wheeler.

159 atom-Leather Joe's Defeat; or, The Ledy
ed-Agent. By PhilipS.Warne.

160 Buffalo Bill , the Boy Bullwhacker: or, The
Doomed Thlzteen. By 001. P. Ingrehun.

Bob Beckett. the Crechmen. By 0. Morris.
Little Hurricane, the Boy Ceptein. By Oil
Coomee.

163 Deadwood Diok'e Dreem; or, the Bimi- ot the
Reed. By I. L. Wheeler.

l“ Tornedo Tom: or.-l.njnn Jack from Red Con.
By T. 0. Herbeugh.

its Builelo Bill's Bet; or, The Gambler Guide. By
Col. P. lngrnheni.

m Will Wildfire Wine end Loeee; or, “A Trump
Oerd’." By Charlee Merrie.

m Dendy Rock’s Pledge; or. Hunted to Deeth. By
George W. Browne.

me Deedwood Dick'e Word or. The Black Hills
Juebel. By mm L. Wheeler.

10 The Boy Champion. By Edward Willett.

170 Bob Bockett'l Fl ht for Life; or, Shndowed in
New York. By Arlee Morris.

in Frank Morton, the” Boy Hercules. By Oil
Ooomee.

The Yankee Ben or. Dusky De ll.
Edwin Emerson. m m B,

m DiokDin le Sco t; .Therro flame].
Edward Blue.u m n n,

in Dandy Book'- Sohelne; or, The Golden Head.
By G. W. Browne.

in The Anb Detective' or, Snooner. The 8h
3: Edward 1. wmém. 32’ "v

170 Will Wlldflre'l Pluck; or. The Hidden Bend. By
I Cheriee Merrie.

‘ m The Boy Commend": or. The Enid of Perth.
Prentiu Ingrehun.

3:001.

 

m The Menieo Hunter or, The Mysteries of Night
Inland. By Burton 

179 Dain Lenoe- or, The Mystic Mnrhsmen. By
1E. ger. r.

180 The Gold-Hunter; or. Neynjo Nick‘s Scout
By T. Herbaugh.

l81 The Boepegreoe Son. By (Juries Morris.

18! The Dnrk~Sldnned Seont; or The Freebooierl
or the Mississippi. By Lieut. 601. Hazeltine.

1 John Dart, Detective; or, The Hermit Trapper.
By 011 Coomee.

184 Feetherwelght, the Boy Spy. By Ed. Willett.
185 Bleon Bill the Overland Prinoe. By 00L Pren-
tiee In

grehntn.
136 Deinty Lenoe and His Ferd. By J. B. Badger. Jr.

1‘37 The Tre ped Tiger King; or, Dork Peul‘l Plot.
By Cher ee Morris.

[88 The Ventrll uist Detective. A nominee o!
Rogues. By dwerdLWheeler.

189 Old Rocky‘s 80 e; or, Bonito. the Young Mue-
tangBrenker. Maj. Sam. 8. Hall.

190 Sim Simpkine Scout' or. The Faithful Mountain
Martin. By James , Bowen.

191 Dandy Rock‘s Hive]; or. The Mysterious Wolf
Rider. By Geo. Waldo Browne.

192 Hickory Harry: or. Roaring deh. the Ventrno
quiet. By Harry St. George.

l93 Detectiw Josh Grim: or. The Young Gledietor‘!
Game. By Edward L Wheeler.

[94 Pro-poet Pete. the Boy Miner. By Oil Ooomel.

195 The Tendertoot Trailer: or. Plucky Phil, 0! the
Mountain. By 1‘. C. Huhnugh.

196 The Dendy Detective- or, The Abducted Boy
Myltery. ByOherlee orrie.

1W Boy, the Young Cattle King; or. The Texan
Sport Unmeshe . By CoL Prentiu Ingrehem.

1% Ebon Den'l Mash; or, The Riv-l Leagues 01
the lnee. By Frank Dumont.

199 Dictionary Net. Detective; or. Bill Brevo, the
Beer Tamer. By T. C. Herbeuzh.

200 The Twin Horsemen: or, The Brothel-I of the
Plumed Lance. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

201 Dandy Darke'l Perdl: or, The Hewh or mgh
Pine. By Wm. B. lylter.

an Tom theTenn Tiger; orrOld Luke“: Luck. By
Oil doomee.

an Sam. the on.» Bay; or, The Tehlee Turned. By
Cheriee Merrie.

m The Young Cowboy; or, The Girl Mer'e Tr].
» umph. By Col. Prentiss Ingrehem.

505 The Frontier Detective; or. Sie‘re Bem'l Scheme.
By E. L. Wheeler.

zoo White Lightning: or. the Boy Any. By '1‘. c,
Herbengh.

m1 Kentuck Talbot‘e Band; or. TheBed Leeeo. By
Oeptein Mark Wilton.

MT???” Tom'l Ceetle Kyotery' or Duhln
Di IDieznlee. BlelOooneL. , s

an The Monomer-Boy Detective: or. The T hl '
Turned. ByGherlee non-u. ' e'

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:
R‘llph. the Road-Azbnt. By Jos.

211 Little Giant and His Band; or
Duelist. By P. S. Warne.

212 The Jimtown S ort; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado.
By E L. When er. .

213 The Pirate's Prize; or. The Mysterious Yankee
Schooner. By C. Dunning Clark.

214 Dandy Dave. of Shasta; or, The ‘Frisco Flash 0'
Lightning. By T. C. Harbough.

215 Daring: Dan, the Ranger; or, The Denver Detec‘
'iive. By Oll Coomes.

216 The Cmvbo Captain; or. Ranger Ralph's Ruin.
Bv Colonel entiss Ingraham.

217 Bald Head of the Rockies: or, The Ang‘l of the
Range. By Major Sam  Hall.

213 The Miner S ort' or. Sugar-Coated Sam‘s Claim.
By Edward . Wheeler.

219 Buck, the Detective; or, Paul. the Boy Pard. By
Albert W. Aiken.

220 Crack-Shot Frank; or, Bill Bounce, the Moun-

1 rain Bravo. By Charles Morris. I

221 Merle the Micldy: or, A Wait 0! the Waves. By
Colonel Prentiss Ingrahnm.

222 Rosebud Ben‘s Boys; or, The Young Prairie
Rangers. Bv Oll Commes.

223 Gold Conrad's Watch—Doze; or. The Two Pards
of Vulture Bar. By T. C. Harboule ,

224 grifky Fe gus, the New York Boy. Bv G. L.

l en.
2235 Dick Draw, the Miner‘s Son; or. A 0110 Bill, the
Road-Agent. By Edward L. Whee er.
226 Dakota Dick in Chicago; or. Jack. the Old Tar.
By Charles Morris.
227 Merle, the Boy Cruiser; or, Brandt, the Buc-
omerr. B Colonel Prentiss Ingmham.
$28 The Prenc er Detective; or, The Boy Ventrilo-
uist. By 011 Coomes.
2‘29 lrl Hickory‘s Grit. By John J. Marshall.
230 The Three Boy Sports; or. The Sword Hunters.
By Captain Frederick Whittaker.
231 Sierra Sam. the Detective. By Ed. L. Wheeler.
232 Merle Monte‘s Treasure; or. Buccaneer Brandt’s
Threat. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
233 Rocky Rover Kit; or. Davy Crockett's Crooked
(Trail. B Ensign C. D. Warren.
234 Baldy. t e Miner Chief. By Capt. J. F. 0.
Adams.
235 Jack Stump's Cruise; or, The Montpelier's Muti-
uoers. liy Roger Sturhuck.
286 Sierra Sam‘s Double; or, The Three Female De-
tectives. By E i. L. Whuel'kr.
287 Newsboy i ed, Detective; or, Two Philadelphia.
Gaming. By Charles Morris.
238 Merle Monte's SeaScrapcr; or. Little Belt‘s
. Droll Dis-guise. " By Col. Prentiss inumhnm.
“239 Ben's Biz: Boom- or, The Boss Miner‘s League.
B Capt. Mark Wilton.
‘240 S larp Shot Mike. or, Columbia Jim on the War-
Path. By 011 Coomes. l
241 Sierra Sam’s Sentence: or. Little Luck at Rough
Ranch. By Edward L. Wheeler.
242 The Demer Detective: or. Dainty Dot at Gold
Gulch. By T. C. Harbaugh.
91.3 Dutch San’s Dilemma; or, The Mysterious
Mountain Mo ster. By Maj. L. W. Carson.
944 Merle Monte Disguise; or. The Capture of
\Brandt. the uccaneer. By Col. Prentiss In-
graham.
245 B ldy’s Boy Partner; or. Young Brsinerd'l
Steam Man. By Edward S. Ellis.
246 Detective Keen's Apprentice: or. James Jumper
the New York Gamm. By Charles Morris.
34'] The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe's Disguise.
‘ Edward L. Wheeler. .
148 Giant George’s Ford; or. Arizona Jack, the
'i‘emlerfoot. By Buckskin Sam.

or. Reckless
E. Badger. Jr.
Despard, the

By

 

249 Ranch Rob’s Wild Ride; or. Old Winch The
Rifle King. By T. C. Harbaugh.
250 Merle Monte's Pardon; or. The Pirate Chief‘s
Doom. By Col. Prentiss Ingrehsm.
251 The Deaf Detective; or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp.
By Edward Willett.
252 Denwr Doll‘s Device: or, The Detective Quren.
By Edward L. Wheeler.
253 The Boy Tenderfoot; or. Roaring Ben Bundy of
Colorado. By Capt. Mark Wilton. I
254 Black Hills Ben; or Dutch Jan on the War-
Path. By Maj. Lewis W. Canon.
255 Jolly Jim, Detective; or, The Young Protege's
Victory. By Charles Morris.
256 Merle Monte‘s Last Cruise; or The Sea R-bber
at Bay. By Col. Premise Ingra am.
257 The Boy Chief of Rocky Pass; or, The Young '
CaliforniaPards. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrsin.
258 Denver Doll as Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.
259 Little Foxeye, the Colorado Spy. By 01!
Coomes. ‘
260 Skit, the Cabin Boy. By Edward Willett.
261 Blade, the Sport. or, the Giant of Clear Grit
Camp. By T. C. Harbaugh.
262 Billy. the Roy Rover; 01-, Terror Tom of Texas.
By Col. P. Ingraham.
263 Buster Bob‘s Buoy; or, Lige, the Light-House ‘
Keeper. By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams. .
264 Denver Doll's Partner; or, Big Buckskin the
' Sport By E. L. Wheeler. - I
285 Billy, the Baggaue Boy- or, The Young Railroad ‘
Detective. ‘By Charles orris.
266 Guy's Bo Chum; or, The Forest Wolf's Mask.
By Capt. omstock.
5267 Giant George‘s Revenge; or, The Boys of “ Slip-
up Mine.“ By Buckskin Sam. '
268 The Dead Shot Dandy; or, The Rio Grande
Marauders. By 001. Prentiss ingraham.
269 The Quartzville Boss; 01-, Daring David Dorks.
By Edward Willett.
270 Denver Doll's Mine; or, Little Bill‘s Big Loss.
By E. L. Wheeler. a ‘
271 Ebon Jim's Terror; or,Ranger Rsinbolt's Ruse. ,
By 0 l Coomes. r . ' '
272 Kit, the Girl Detective; or Dandy Dash in Cali-
fornia. By T. C. Harbaug .
273 The Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned‘s Surprise. By
Jos. E. Badger. Jr. . .
274 Dend Shot Dandy‘s Double; or, Benito. the Boy
Pan]. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
Ready April 10.
:75 Fred. the Ocean Wait: or, The Old Sailo"l,
Protege. By Charles Morris. , r
Reed y April 17.
276 Deadwood Dick Trapped; or. Roxey Ralph‘s
Ruse. By Edward L. h eler.
Ready April 24. ‘ _
277 The Idiot Bo Avenger or, Captain Wild-Cat's'
Bit: Game. Albert w. Aiken. . r .
Ready May v

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