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Old Crossfire’s Crisis.

 

     
    
  
   
  
    
   
   
   
   
 
   
   
   
    
 
   
    
    
      
     
   
     

Old Crossfire’s Crisis;

R,
Frank Nesbit, the Young Trailer.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES HOWARD.

CHAPTER I.
THE MIXED RIDERS.
A MArouLsss moonlight night in February,

On the summit of one of the loveliest hum-
movks in Florida, and beneath the sweet blosv
onus of the magnolia tree, two figures stood up~
‘ t
l

i b .
fi‘he paucity of trees in ,front permitted their
gaze upon a. plantation that stretched westward
from the base of the rise. Upon the seemingly
desolate building. the beautiful orange groves
and the far trending fields, the soft light of a
, tro licul moon fell with uninterrupted splendor,
and lent a witcbery to the hour.
“Shall we go down without resting. boy?”
“Yes: I am eager to see the old place, and I

want to see. too, what the hatchet and firebrand ‘

have sspared."
It was the clear voice of a boy that spoke,
and a boy in look and stature the speaker

seem .

“ Then we’ll go down," replied his companion,
a great, broad-shouldered. roughly-made but
handsome-featured man. :‘ When I passed this
way last the Grants war happy. but now it is
different. The Mixed Riders hev been here.
You’ve heard of them, Frank?” .

He looked down upon the youth as he uttered
the last sentence, but no answer rewarded him.

Frank Nesbit seemed to be dreaming over the
Bla'ptation that lay so silently in the moon-
' t.

g

“ Frank, didn’t you hear what I said?”

The boy started.

“ Yes~yes, sir.”

“ Wal, why didn’t you answer?”

‘ “ I was thing about something.”
/ “ About the Grants?”

“ It you must‘know. Sam—yes.”

“ Thinkin’ won‘t bring ’em' back to life," said
the scout‘s husky, but kindly voice. “ The
boys hat have .been here say that the
Mixed iders spared none. .They came down
on the plantation like a thunderbolt. when the
family war at supper. They butchered the
Hazels down on the Withlaeoocho the same
night. Doc Webb an’ his tellers saw three graves
back 0’ the house, an’ there sleeps the widow an’

her 'rls.” ‘
Ear girls?” echoed the youth, manifesting

H

59m; surprise. “ She had but ‘ one child—Mag-

ie. ~ . ~ ,
g “ I know, but. her niece, a girl named Mau-
mee something. was visitin’ at the plantation
when the massacre took place. Butrlet’s go
down an’ look at the place; we’ll never get thar
it we stand talkin’ here.”
The scout seized the long-hamlet! rifle that
leaned inst the magnolia, and a low and pe-
, collar w istle tell from his hpa.

    
 

 

w

 

_ her]: are helpln’ Osceola now.”

' the sterner man— be old

  

A moment later a large and gaunt Cuban
bloodhound looked up into his face with an ex-
pression bordering on the human.

“ We’re goin’, Tiger,” said the scout, stroking
the dog, and the descent of the hummock ho-
gan. It was not difficult, and in a few mo-
;‘neiiits the trio were walking across the desolate

It‘ i 8‘.

Presently they entered the proud magnolia.
grove, and passing through it, walked beneath
majestic trees loaded with the orange——Florida’s
aureate fruit.

To the right of the last grove once stood the
long, row of buildings denominated tho “ negro . Q
quarters,” but now a line of blackened ruins ,- ‘ I
Eiark'led their site and told the story of the fire- '

ram .

“ The Widow Grant was rich in slaves,” said
the scout. turning from the desolation: “ but the
Mixed Riders ran ’em off, an’thc majority of

The mansion had not been surrendered to the
tender mercies of the torch. It stood intact,
but desolate. Flower-pots still crowned the
long. green benches of the porch; but the un-
trimxned vines were running away. The front
door stood ajar, and pushingr it open, the scout ;
crossed the threshold. A flood of moonlight r:
filled the room, and enabled the twain to noto ‘
everything. Seemingly not an article of furni-
ture had h-Ion touched by the night riders, and
the books still lay on the rich CPlltOI‘ table.

From the parlor the boy and his burly com—
panion passed to the scene of the Grant butch—
ery—lthe dining-mom. ‘

There lay the table overturned, and a litter of
dishes on the floor.

On portions of the china dark red stains were
visible; they were marks of blood. and the wash"
boarding was sprinkled with the same. Evi—
dencos of an Indian butcherv could not be miss
taken; but why should the liends spare the
house?

“It puzzles me,” said the scout, after a thor-
ough examination of the room, “andtwhen I
think of the fellow who leads the Mixed Riders,
it puzzles me the more.”

“ Who is he?" asked the youth. “ Come. tell
me about him. If it is a long story, we will not '
be molested here.” - .

“ When I have showed you the: three graves,

I will tell you all about ’im,” said the scout,
starting; toward the door. “ Come. Flank, .‘ ,
they're right , out here. Some white chaps a
buried ’em. 1 s‘pose.” ' '

They passedoutinto a small grove of orange .
trees, and soon stood over the narrow mounds.
At the head of each stood a picket, which had
been torn from the nen‘whil‘e fence that once‘
surrounded the mansion, and the mound; were
covered with various Southern flowers. . .

It was a beautiful resting-place for the butch-. '
ered ones. » '

Frank Neshit and fiavn Thatcher, the scout,.
stood over the gravesa long timespeaking" never
a word. Tears crept from the boy’s eyes and
glistened on the flowers and the long lashes»):

Indian-flghter—tmm-‘
bled, us well. '

The-youth started from the sight suddenl 
and laid his hand on the scout's arm. a a

‘l

 

     

    
       
       
     
 

  
 

Old Crossflro’l Crisis.

 

“They shall not also unavengedl“ he said,
with determination. “ am Thatcher, from this
hour my whole life is to be but a record of ven-

eance. Now I am alone in the world. The

ends killed my father when they killed the im-
mortal Dado; now they have struck their second
blow. Let me tell you. I am not ashamed to
tell it, now that she is dead.”

“Go on, boy.”

“I loved Maggie Grant. My whole life was
enveloped in hers, and but one short year ago
she told me by actions that I might some day
call her mine. There, I have told you. You
may guess aright now, Sam, how terrible my
revenge will be.”

Without a word the scout took the boy’s hand
and pressing it warmly looked down into the
depths of his glistening eyes.

“I am with you!" he said, at last. “We
will hunt the Mixed Riders together, for this is
their work. But their leader, remember, Frank
—-he is for me."

“ Who is he?” exclaimed the youth, his curi-
osity greatly exoited. “ Tell me about him,
Sam. We have seen the graves now."

Fora moment the scout did not speak. He
whistled for his dog. and waited for the animal
to put in an appearance.

“ Tige, I want you to hear about the biggest
devil in Florida." he said, looking at the blood-
hound crouched at his feet. "Though I have
told you of ’im a thousand times, I want you to
listen again.”

Then he turned to the boy and resumed:

“ Three months ago the Wilsons lived on the
Ocklawaha. I used to eat their salt, and they
welcomed me, God bless ’em. They were Teu-
nesseeans, which. p‘raps. made’em so good. One
night I war ridin’ down the river to meet little
Bertie Wilson at the Magnolia Ford. It war a
love matter like this: Tom McDowell war
courtin Bertie slyly, for old man Wilson didn‘t
like him, though Tom war a good boy, and I war
doin’ what I could for the couple. Tom war a
San Augustine an’ I used to bc'his mail-carrier.
That night I war bringin’ a letter to Bertie from
Tom: she allus waited for me at the ford. I
found her there; she could not speak. A bullet
was in her heart. that would beat no more for
Tom. and some devil had scalped her.

“ How I galloped to the house you may im—
’ agine boy. The hounds had been there, too.
3 John ’Wilson and his family war dead. an’ the
old house was burnin‘ still. Back to the ford I-
went, and as I stooped for Bertie I heard a
horse. Then I stepped back an’ held my hands
over my horse’s nostrils, nn’ sav- the butchers
ride by. They were the Mixed Riders, an‘ the
biggest devil in Florida rode at their head. I
counted them, eleven—six maroons an' five In-
- inns. They went by like ghosts, an’ when I
j could see ’em no longer, I dropped beside Bertie
_ Wilson.”

“ And swore to avenge her death?” cried the
youth.

-' “ Yes! I swore to take his life and the lives

. of his men,” answered the scout. “ He is a

Seminole, an’ Spanish blood is in his veins. I ,
render. hotter lookin’ feller in. all '

never saw a
rifle, an’ it almost a pity to stop his wind. I

(

 

wish on could see him. boy. They call ’im
Morel 0. Half a dozen times I have drawn a.
head on ’im, but some person who is bent on
saviu’ his life has shot my rifle from my fingers.
At other times some unseen hand has stolen my
balls, an’ emptied my pewder-horn, an’ I can t
find out whose (loin’s it is.”

“Somebody is watching over Morollo,” said
the boy. “ Somo’lndinn love of his, perhaps."

“ It ,may ho,” said Thatcher, thoughtfully;
“ but that protector had better never let we
catch ’im 1”

“ We’ll hunt together now,” the youth rcplicd.
“ You say that Morcllo lcd thls onslaught?”

“ He did; this is the kind 0‘ work hc delights
in; he’s ten times a bigger fiend than Osceola.”

At this juncture the bloodhound started. and,
with a faint growl, crept erect. He turned his
head toward the ruined negro-quarters and
listened intently.

“ Horses,” whispered the scout. “ They‘re
comin’ down the road, an’ will pass by the house.
Come, Frank.”

He touched the youth‘s arm and they glided
into the desolate mansion.

Presently they paused at the front window,
and waited. The doc stood on his hind feet,
with his tore ones resting on the painted sill—as
eager to see as his Innstcrs.

Without, as I have said, the moon shone with
undimmed loster, and. the narrow road that run
hefore the house was plainly visible tron. the
watchers’ statiOn. -

They were not compelled to watch long for
the horse. It came in sight and walked slowly
d’lWl’l the road.

But it was the rider seated in the rich Spanish
saddle that commanded attention. His figure
and bearing proclaimed him a Seminole chief.
His leggings. the color of which could not be
observed, were heavily frin ed: a loose capote
hung owr his shoulders, an a plume consisting
of three long feathers graced his head. His hair
which ap ared black as night, hung down his
back. an touched the saddle robe:

Sam Thatcher started when he saw this hand-
some night rider, and clutched the boy’s arm
with a grip of steel. But he did not speak until
six more spectral riders had passed the window.

“There. boy l” he said suddenly. “ on have
seen the Mixed Riders. You haVe loo 'ed upon .
Morello— the man who killed Bertie Wilson and
Maggie I Grant—the devil who is transformin’
happy homes into spots of desnlatinn.”

“And the demon whose life We will have!
His rotecting angel will not save him’now."

“ o! no!" cried the scout. “ The Mixed
Riders are doomed."

“ But you said there were eleven. I counted
six besides Morello.” ' .

Thatcher laughed. and pointed to four deeply-
cut notches on the butt-ridge of his rlfle.

“Sam Thatcher, or Old Crossfire, as the sol-
diers call ’im, could tell you whar the other four
be, hhlli you can guess near enough. We’ll go,
now. \ . ' ‘

“ After ’the hands?“ asked the youth, eagerly.

“ Yes; i but—” .

“ Another horse!" _ ‘ ' »

Tiger was growling at ‘the window, and .the
boy’s keen ears had caught the sound 0!»

 

Old Crossfire’l Crisis.

“ More ni ht riders, I guess," murmured the
scout, and t en two horses came in sight.

The figures in the saddles were girlish in their
outlines, and small hands held rifles across the
pommels.

Undoubtedly they were trailing; the Mixed
Riders; but in front of the mansion they drew
rem. ,

The eyes at the window watched them strange
ly narrowly.

Would they dismount and enter the old house?

No; after a minute’s halt they spoke to their
horses and galloped away.

Without a word, Frank N esbit looked up into
the scouts face.

" What on earth can this mean?" ejaculated
Thatcher at length. “ Thar go the Riders, an’
two girls followin‘ after ’em."

The youth started.

“Two girls you say, Sam l”

“ Two girls,” said the scoutyflrmly. “ A girl
never can ride as good as a boy. But, what war
they foilowin’ Moreilo for?"

. “ What do you follow him for?”

“.His blood,”

“ Doubtless they seek it, too. He may have
desolated their homes.”

“ Though he has. they sha'n't have it—I swear
they shn’n'tl” cried the scout springing from the
winder, excitement in his dark eyes. “ I am

oin’ to cut eleven notches on my rifle’s ridge!
‘omel"

A moment later the, Grant mansion was ten-

nntless again, and the avengers of blood, pre-

ceded by the Cuban‘ bloodhound, were trailing
the night riders. .

CHAPTER II.
sraarnmo enocnnomos.

IN the year 1832 the Government determined
to remove the Seminoles of, Florida to lands
west of the Mississippi, and in the springr of that
year the treaty of Payne’s Landing was held.

n this treaty the tribes, represented by a num-
ber of prominent sachems, gave up all their res—
ervations, and conditionally agreed to move.
Subsequently, some of the chiefs made this
agreement absolute; but the transaction was re-
garded by the ’Seminoles generally as unfair,
cowardly and treacherous. Micanopy, the king
of the nation. was influenced by the famous
Osceola, a member of the blood-thirsty Red
Sticks, and one of the fiercest Indian wars on
record was inaugurated by a series of petty
murders that aroused the sleeping vengeance of
the Government.

President Jackson was determined that the
obstreperous Indians should be removed. and
soon the bayonets of Federal soldiers glittered
anion the ever lades of Florida. The winter
of 183. witne the massacre of Major Dade
and his Spartan band. and the killing of General
Thompson and his officers. These successes eu-
coura ed the red rebels. and served to aurrment
their orces. Hundreds of rebellious Creek’s and
escaped slaves from the coast H antations, swore
all nee to Osceola, or Powe , as he was called
byt e whites, and flrebrand and hatchet held
carnival among the beautiful plantations in the
Land of Flowers. _

The month of November, 1885, witnessed the

 

L

destruction of the Grant plantation, and durin
the first week in December, Bertie Wilson to

‘at the lord while waiting for her lover’s letter.

With the foregoing brief epitome of the Flur-
ida war,” and the perhaps necessary statement
that follows, let us proceed with our story

Shortly after, passing the Grant mansion the
Mixed Riders urged their steeds into a gallo ,
and sped away quite briskly toward the sout .
Their two mysterious followers did the same,
and soon Old Crossfire and his companions lost
the sound of hoofs.

“ It’s no use to foller ’em,” the scout said, stop—
ping suddenly in the narrow .road. “ They’re
ririin’ like the wind. But of we had horses, boy;
of we had horses.”

The need of horses was keenly felt by the
twain, and after a brief conversation they
wheeled to the left and gradually disappeared
in a hummock.

The scout was well versed in Northern Indian
warfare, but the cunning of the Seminoles some
times bellied him. He had fought savages who
invariably went afoot. but now he had to con-
tend with those who seldom left the saddle—who
could appear and disappear like ghosts. He
possessed a horse, but at the hour of which we
write, it was safely stabled in Fort King, thirty
miles away. He often left it there when a can-
tious scout called him among the everglades. A.
few days prior to the opening of our romance he .
had encountered Frank Neshit, who, despite t ’
dangers of war, was on his way to Vlsit t 8
Grants, unconscious of the work of the hatchet
on that lovely plantation. The trapper oifcrcd
to guide the youth thither, which offer was ac-
cepted, and the reader has witnessed the results
of the journey,

From the meeting of boy and man in the for-
est, sprung a friendship as true as steel, as last-
ing as life. I

The far-famed everglades of Florida are low
tracts of land generally inundated With water,
and interspersed with patches of high grass.
Among them, however, spots of pineland prai-
ries and hammocks are occasionally ound.
These relieve the dreary scenery of the ever-
glades. and are cases to the traveler who is bold
enough to wade waist dee through the abode
of venomous reptiles and as rate human fugi-
tives. Of course, I am spea ing of Florida in
“ ’Thirtysix.”

Yet bridle-paths led through the fastnesses of
the everglades, and the followin of one would
eventually lead the explorer to a ummock. or a
patch of pine or magnolia. land. These paths
consisted of logs laid on the swampy ground,
and were, therefore, dangerous trails.

Onelmorning, six-and-forty hours after the
futile attempt of the scout and his companion to
catch the Mixed ' Riders, a solitary figure was
making its wav across one of these evergladed
hummocks. The rather gaudy dress of a Semi-
nole robed his well-built frame, and the head-
dress proclaimed that it had been robbed of
its ornament. A mass of long black hair

touched his waist, and the slender rifle which , '

he trailed at his side was a triumph of work-2

manship.
He walked rapidly, careful] noting his na-

rouudioss. and stepping can only among the

 

Old Cressflre’l Crisis.

 

broad magnolia leaves and pine burrs. He
crossed the hammock, which proved of no great
extent, and ascended another, somewhat larger.
Beneath a wide-spreading tree he paused, and a
low whistle fell from his lips.

The next moment a girlish form glided from
the dun shades, and touched his arm. He start-
ed, but quickly put forth his hand and drew the
new-comer to him.

“ Morello‘s beautiful flower blooms at his side
once more,” he said, with eagerness, and his lips
kissed the white forehead. “ He has walked a
long way to meet her.”

“ Was m chief trailed?"

The wor s were coucth in an anxious tone,
and the eyes of the girl darted a quick look t0<
ward the smaller hammock.

Below her eyes she wore a black mask,
fringed with Spanish beads, and her right hand
griped a rifle. She wore delicate leggings, and
a short, close-fitting hunting-frock, while a
coonskin cap, to the side of which was bound
2 Wang feather of the king vulture, crowned her

ea .

“ No, Morello was not trailed,” the chief au-
swered her, thanking her with his lustrous eyes
for her fear. “ He has not seen Osceola for
several days, and the white hunter has not
crossed his path. The Red Eagles hunt for
Morello, the white man hunts for hin.—-—ahl is he
not the fugitive of the everglades’i”

The girl pressed his hand, and looked up into
his face a long time without speaking; it was a
look of pityiug love.

“On, chief, if this dreadful war was over!”
she murmured. “ Will it never end '1'”

“Perhaps never,” he answered. and a flame
lit up his dark eyes. “ The Seminole wants to
sleep in the land of his fathers. Does the Hid—
den Rose blame him for this?”

" No!" said the masked lips. “My people are
unjust. The Seminole fights for his rights.
Morello battles for his and for vengeance. "

The fire which had died away suddenly came
back to the chief’s eyes.

“Yes, yes!” he cried. “ Morello fights for his
rights and for van eaucel He is charged with
crimes which he as never committed. This
hand. Hidden Rose never struck one of your

pie; it never will. save in self-defense. But
t has struck the Red Stick; if Osceola comes
within its sw‘eep. let him beware! The hunted
may slay the hunter.”

he entire frame of the chief quivered with

the workings of some hidden passion while he
spoke, and when he finished, he turned suddenly
upon the slender form at his side.

“ Come deeper into the hammock, Hidden

Rose," he said. “ Morello wants to talk along
time. He may never see you again.”

He lifted the masked one in his arms and start-
ed forward.

At that moment a form rose from the grass
near the spot and looked at the pair.

The spy Was Frank Nesbit, and Old Crossfire’s
bloodhound stood beside him.

“ We‘ll catch the chief of the Mixed Riders
now!” he ejaculated, in tones of triumph, “and
we’ll rob some foolish girl of a lover at the same
time. Crossfire will be delighted to know that
W is so near. Why, the fellow has a good

‘ eh“ .  ‘.

. before us.

 

deal of white blood in his veins, and so hand-
some, too, he is I“

Then the youth followed the pair until he saw
them seated at the foot of a magnolia, unsus—
picious of danger, when he glided hack.

Near the edge of the smallest hammock he
came upon a burly form stretched upon the
ground. It looked like some giant hear in the
uncertain light; but when the boy laid his hand
on one of the broad shoulders, there was motion
in the mass, and a white face revealed itself.

The whispered name of the chief of the Mixed
Riders brought Sam Thatcher to his feet, and
he clutched the youth’s arm tightly.

“ Don't deceive me!” he cried. “ What!
Morello within our grasp and alone? Frank, it
seems oulwssihle.”

“ Come, and call me a liar if we find him not,”
said the boy. “1 was awake awhie ago and
heard a footstep. I followed it, an saw him
meet the masked girl.”

id Crossfire started forward excitedlv: but
with his “ell known caution, and Frank Nesbit
guided him across the nummock.

“ Look! yonder they are; now duh me a liar
if you dare,” the yout said, triumphantly oint-
ing out the forms, standing now honest the
fragrant blossoms.

The scout shaded his eyes with his broad
hands. and gazed along time upon the chief and
his masked adorer. ‘

“You‘re ifight, boy: the Mixed Rider stands

ow for the deepest notch in my
riile’s ridge.”

Th1? youth looked at the scout, but did not
s a .

Slowly the great band cooked the rifle, which
as slowly crept to a level with the chief’s breast.

“It’s a pity to shoot him down like a dog!”
the Indian-hunter said. glanoin along the bar-
rel. “but‘he served Bertie Wi son and Maggie
Grant that-away, an‘ what else should he expect
from us?” v

Still the boy spoke not: he watched the hun-
ter’s finger creep toward the trigger, and held
his breath. ‘

But. suddenly, the tableau was broken!

Morello started as if an enemy‘s footstep had
fallen on his ears. and the next second he had
eized the girl in his arms and was bounding
through the little wood I

Old Crossfire lowered his rifle with an oath,
and bounded forward.

He reached the tree when the crack of rifles
made the hammock ring, and in the deadly flash
be sewn. dozen Indians. Quick as thou ht he
raised his' weapon, for the voile had 19 .t him
unscathed, and the foremost fel before the un-
erring aim.

Then he turned and fled with the bloodhound
at his heels.  -

He doubted not that the vouth had already
sought safety in flight; he did not see him lay
motionless at the foot of a tree. The leader of
the savages did, though, and jerked him from '
the 517mm.

“ hite boy lives!” he cried, triumphantly,
holding the youth up to the aze of the lid.

A loud cry of joy eeted t is intelli once.

“Another scalp or the Red Stick " cried.
chief. “ Let the pale spawn die!”

 

Old‘ Crossfire’s Crisis.

 

But the captor held the be at arm’s len h,
an i with fiendish glee in his ark eye, watc ed
him gasp for breath.

Suddenly he turned upon his warriors.

“ Where is Moreno?” he asked.

The Indians stared blanklv around.

“The traitor has lied! He said that Morello
and his love were here.“

“ anarro's tongue is not forked,” retorted a
young,r Indian, stepping before the chief. " He
saw Morello here, and he talked to his hidden
love. ’I‘av’mrro led Osceola hither; but they fly.
Morello saw the pale-faces, p’raps, and run like
the deer.”

The tomahawk raised over the traitor‘s head,
dropped bloodless at Osceola’s side, and the red
lips were bitten for vaxation. '

CHAPTER. III.
OLD cnossrmn srors 'rwo HORSES.

“ MonnLLo and the Hidden Rose safe now'
the Red Sticks follow not. Now W111 the hunted
chief seek his braves, and turn hunter again.
We must part here."

The Mixed Rider stood on the edge of a tiny
savanna, several miles from the scenes of the
foregoing chapter, and he looked into the eyes
of the masked girl While he spoke.

" Does Morello think that Osceola trailed him
to the hummock?“ she asked.

“ No; a. traitor led him to the spot where
Moi-e110 met his love,” replied the chief. “ When
the traitor stands before the Mixed Rider again,
he shall die."

“ Does Morello know him?”

“ He does! But the moon is creeping down
the sky. We must part.”

With a lover’s privnlege the chief raised the
bail: mask and glued his lips to others fairer
s l

’ A moment thus, then he kissed the white fore-
head, pressed it faultless hand, and turned
away.

He walked down the edge of the barren, and
gradually disappeared. _

The girl watched him with deep sohcitude,
and remained in her tracks a long time.

For an hour or more Morello walked rapidly,
and put many rods of tropical earth between him
and the girl. He crossed an ever lads and
struck a narrow road leadiuv from ort King
to Fort Jennings. He halted Beneath a deform-
ed oak, and was looking to the priming of his
rifle when the sound of beefs struck his car.

A horse was galloping down the road, and
stepping back into the shade the Mixed Rider
watched the new—comer.

Presently the Indian, bolt upright in his sad-'

dle was visible, and the chief’s eyes flashed fire
as he raised his rifle.
Annoment the sights covered the rider, then a
get of fire leaped from the little bore. and the
one dashed on, but riderless. For the rider
handd dropped the rains, and lay dead on the

to .
A sharp and imperative “ he!” stopped the

horse. and Morello caught the reins Without

trouble. Then leading the animal, he ap-

proached the stricken man, and looked down

*upon the painted face.

~ “Thus ‘perishea the traitor,” he , muttered,

 

sternl . “ Thus all will die who seek to betray
More 0 into the talons of the Red Sticks!

Then icking up the dead Seminole’s rifle, he
mounts the horse and quickly disappeared.

He rode quite briskly for another hour, when
he turned into a well4ieflned road and at last
dre-w rein before the once beautiful mansion.
house of a plantation. It was now in ruins; but
the huge chimneys were standing erect, like
ghosts, and swallows flew in and out with dole.
ful cries.

He surveyed this scene for a minute in silence,
and then put an ivory whistle to his lips. The
peculiar call was answered by another in the
direction of the half-burned negro-quarters, and
five horsemen advanced.

Morello counted in a mournful tone. and
greeted them with a faint smile.

The quintette consisted of three Indians and
two maroons. ~

“ Are you ready ?” asked Morello.

“ Yes,“ said the spokesman of the Wrty, a.
burly. yet good-featured negro. “ e are
read to encounter the Red Sticks or toscalp
the outer who trails us. But, where is Ta-
warro? He left us shortly after our chief rode
away. We thought he was with you.”

Morollo lifted the rifle from the saddle.

“ Tawarro will ride with us no more,” he said,
si niflcantly. “ Here is his rifle."

gl‘he Mixed Riders looked at the weapon and
then glanced at their leader.

“ Did Osceola catch him!” asked the maroon.

“No; the subject who betrays his kin dies.”

That answer was enough; it told the iders
that one of their band had been shot as a traitor
and it is no wonder that they dropped their
heads in silence.

“ Come i" said Morello quickly and every head
was raised, and every rein griped with sudden

e.
Then the Spanish Indian wheeled his steed.
and away dashed the Riders under awatery

moon. .

They kept in the narrow ma Olin-fringed
road which skirted plantations 0v r which the
fur .of an Indian war had swept like a besom

of estruction. Desolated orange groves felled
by the ax, noble mansions burned, and the
bones of their owners bleaching near the black-
ened threshold.

Morello gazed about him as he rode alon ,
and hit his li till the red current of life triag-
led over his c in. ‘

“The soldiers say that Morello’s torch and
hatchet did all this 1’ he said at last in an under- ’
tone. “He hates them, he hates the redder
wolves of the everglades, too.”

As he spoke a flame leaped over the trees far '
away. ‘ v
_ “ fire!" ejaculated the negro, already men-
tioned. “ The Red Sticks are at work.”

Then Morello touched his horse with, the

Spanish spurs and like the wind six steeds flew , .

toward the fire where doubtless the hatchet was

doi‘n%him moody w'grk. f “I b a. a.
‘ ar e o. ige,sixo e ingest n

in Florida? Eey’re goin‘ to help their brethern;,

with the tomahawk. They rode by soquickl

that I had no time to draw a on the

Spaniard. But newer mind; I’ll do it yet. .I’m

 

Old Crossfire’n Crisis. 7

 

not followin’ ’em for nothin’. Clinch will give
me two hundred dollars for his scalp.”

Sam Thatcher. or ()ld Crossfire, stood at the
side of the road as he spoke, and the Riders
were just disappearing not far away. Like
spectcrs they had dashed past him and his faith-
ful dog, who was still growling at the flying
shadows.

The scent had reached that spot in his flight
from the linuimock: but Without the boy, Fi'unk
Neshit. He helieved that the youth had fled,
and that he was wondering about among the
evergludes, searching for the road by which
they had entered. It was at the head of this
road that the-scout stood, and there he had
waited four hours for his protege. The night
was waning; according to time, the day hud ai—
rendy appeared; but the light of the sun still
remained away. Sam did not want to leave
the youth nlour: nmom,r the Indian—infested ever-
glades and huminovks, and it was with piiin
and reluctance that he admitted that he was
coinpellud to quit his station.

Before doing this he drewapicce of paper
from his poclut, and ruder traced with a bul-
let these words thereon:

“Come to the Grant. luiuse fo-inorrow night.
Turn to the right hx-i'e and kel-p down the reed till
you see it. SAM THATCHER."

He fastened the paper in a conspicuous place
against a leaning mnguolia, and read the writ-
ing Several times aloud before he turned away.

“ I’ll go and look at Bertie‘s grove,” he said,
moving: off. “No: I’ll go to the fire. Guess it
isn‘t inore’n four miles off, aii’ nicblie I can get
to settle aceounts with the Mixed Riders.”

Into a do: trot he increased his gait, and
“ Tigo,” wondering no doubt what occasioned
his master’s speed, followed at his heels. But
suddenly the dog stopped with a low growl.

» “ Tige, whut is it?’ sail the scout halting, and
looking up the road.

The dog glanced up into his face, and moved
toward the trees.

“Horses, by‘Tmnpa?" ejaculated 01d Cress-
fire, following Tiger’s example, and a moment
later dog and master were waiting in the
shadows for the approaching steeds, which
were coming down the road in a smart gallop.

Two horses loomed up between the scout and
setting moon, and then he caught sight of their
riders.

“ It’s them bliisted girls we saw followin’ the
Mixed Riders the other night!" he exclaimed,
as if addressing a human being. “ An’ I b’lieve
that the near one is the some one what war
holdin‘a love talk with Morello down in the
hummock, a while back. By Tampa! it is the

same! She’s got that black thing on her face ‘

yet. Now, Tige, we’ll show ’em a trick. I’ll
stop the near horse on’ you halt the other. You
know how it’s done, old fuller. Zip. Tigel zip!”

The bloodhound planted himself for a spring,
and with dilated eyes watched the riders.

He knew his duty. .

Suddenly, with a. low command to his dog
Sam Thatcher sprnn from the shadows. and
seized the reins of t e nearest horse. Tiger

, leaped past him and seized those of the other
' with histeeth. '
‘ . The steeds were forced back upon their

 

haunches, but their riders stuck to the saddle
like true horsemen. But exclamations of sur-
prise broke from their lips. '

“Give an account of yourself i" commanded
the smut, holding to the reins. “ I want you
to tell me who you are, 4111’ why you meet the
biggest devil in theeverglades alone an’ at night.”

He addressed his last words to the slender
form that occupied the saddle above him; but
whose face he could not see for the black mask
that hid it below the eyes.

" What is it to you if I do meet my lover?”
cried the unseen lips in a defiant tone.

“And a pretty lover ho is, too!” hissed the
scout. “A murderer, u house-burnerl—worse
nor all this he is, for be slays women.”

“ Beware, Crossfirel’l said the girl in a warn-
ing voice. “ You can go too far with me. Who
did he sluyi’"

“ Bertie Wilson an’ the Grant girls.”

“ Are you sure of this?"

“Yes, I’ve buried one, an’ stood over the
graves of the others.”

“ He never touched them."

“Ah! you can’t clear your rascal’s skirts,
girl!” cried the scout with a. smile. “I am
huntin’ ’im, an‘ I’llfiud ’im, too.”

“Beware! For each drop of his blood shed
lily  ten—say twenty drops of yours will he
s e .

The words hissed so bitterly so vengefully
through the musk, started Old érossflre and he

cried:

“Then it's war to the knife, girl. MustI hunt
you too?”

“ If you hunt him—yes. But, let me tell you
that his hands are clean of our people’s blood.”

“ That won’t dol Didn’t he an’ his infernal
band ride by me when Iknelt by Bertie Wilson’s
corpse, an’ hadn’t they scalps and booty on their
saddles? Girl, you can‘t clear ’im. Now I’ll
see who you are.” ‘ ‘

With the last word on his lips he leaped from
the ground, and before the unknown could inter-
pose a. hand, he tore the black mask from her

face.

“Great heavens! I thought—"

He never finished the sentence, for the horse‘
sprung forward like a shaft from a catapult, .
and he was dashed from the road.

The next instant the two mysterious night
riders were far away.

After awhile Old Cross a rose to his feet
Enddlooked at the mask w ich he held in his

an . i ‘
“ Tige, this beats Satan himself,” he said, and
then he started toward the dog who had dropped
something at his feet.

" What! Tige. did you tear the cloth from the
other ’n's face? Well, well, you’re a human dog!
Tell me what she looked like?"

Tiger looked up into his master's face as
though he wanted to speak. ‘

“ I don‘t believe it! I don't believe it!” ojaen— -
13th the scout suddenly. . “ I row I don’t”,

! CHAPTER 1V.
.. THE PLANTER’S sou.
Tun‘two horses findin themselves (roe, sped
down the moonlit road H e a. brace of arrow, .. ‘
bearing their unmasked riders on their hooky 

I

 

\

Old Crossflre‘s Crisis.

 

The light of the distant fire was momentarily
growing brighter, and it was evident that the
score or so of buildings attached to some exten-
sive plantation were in flames.

Toward the fire the Mixed Riders had ridden,
and now toward it, as well, the mysterious
twain were urging their steeds.

Let us, therefore, precede their arrival, and
witness the swoop of the red birds of prey.

Not far from a lucent stream that poured its
sparkling waters into the Ocklawahzi, stood the
mansion of a plantation. The usual row of ne—
gro quarters stretched to the left; but they
were silent. The song of the rice and indigo
fields was stilled. and the banjo stirred not the
warm air with its happy strains. There were
signs of life about the mansion; but none what-
ever around the home of the slave. The ay-
hairod planter with his family sat honest the
vine-covered roof of a. long veranda that looked
toward the stream 1 havo mentioned. He felt
secure with the Indian war about him. When
his slaves ran off to join their fortunes with the
Seminoles, he made no attempt to reclaim them
nor had he, in a single instance, oflered aid an
comfort to the Government.

Baptiste Jardin, the French Creole, had pre-
ferred neutrality to partisanship.

His wife, a comely matron of flve~and~forty,
sat at his side and his son leaned against one of
the columns that supported the porch. »

Pascal was the plauter’s only child. His age
was two—and—tweuty, and his features were very
handsome. His voice was melodious to perfec—
tion; it was a delight to hear him speak. But
there lurked in his dark eye the nature of the
lion. A lamb in peace, Pascal J ardin, the
young French Creole, could be a tiger in time of
war. « 4
As he stood on the edge of the porch a troubled
expression rested on is face—an Expression
.which found its counterpart on the face of his
father.

“ Our safety demands a continuance of -our
neutrality," said the planter, breakin the si-
lence which had been prolonged. “ ou are
im eriling our lives by your hot words.”

aptiste J ardin was in no good humor, as the
tartness of his tone attested.

“ Father,” and the son turned. slowly around,
“ a man of your age should know something of
aSeminole's word. Haven’t they broken their
promises to us, time and again? Osceola swore
that our cattle should not be run 011'. Where
are they now i”

“ The Mixed Riders did that.”

“ The Red Sticks, father!” replied the son.
calmly. “ The savage is treacherous; it is his
nature and I blame him not. He is murdering
those who he swore should not be harmed.
Last night we saw the light of M. Rochfort’s
house."

“ The Mixed Riders were there.”

The youth colored.

“ I know that they were not,” he said. some-
what angrily. “ But this morning I rode over
to the ruins and—what? A Red Stick’s hatchet.
That told the tale, and proclaimed, beyond cavil,
the identity of the butchers.” ,
The planter rose to his feet and looked at his
“I. -

 

“ Your mother says that you have announced
your intention of taking up arms against the
Indians, if I maintained my present position.”

“ I did,” said Pascal calmly.

“ And I shall maintain my neutrality!" was
the planter‘s decision.

“ Then I go. You will not refuse me grand-
futher’ssword?"

“ Take it and wield it against the men who
are fighting for their rights.”

The youth walked between his parents and en-
tered the house. He ascended the broad stepsto
a small room—the armory of the plantation, for
the Florida planters were prepared to arm their
slaves in case of an Indian attack.

“ I’ll go!” he said flrml . “ The Americans
need strong arms now. will assert my man-
hood and help them.” ,

From the collection of firearms that filled the
corners of the armory be selected a hunter’s
rifle, already loaded. Then he buckled on a
sword—a sword which his grandfather, Mar-
shal Jar-din, had worn in the wars of the First
Empire, and turned to descend.

At that moment the reports of a dozen rifles
fell udpon his ears, and cries of pain quickly fol-
lowe . .

With pallid face the young planter bounded
to the window that overlooked the porch, and
threw up the sash.

Dark forms, armed and plumed, were rushing
through the gate that fronted the mansion.
The treachery of the Indian had sprung to the
surface.

Pascal J ardin took in all in a second of time.
and threw the rifle to his shoulder. A sharp
crack followed, and a Seminole staggered from
the attacking party—dead! The savages paused
a moment and looked up at the window. It
proved a fatal moment for them. for the youth
having snatched a musket from the heap of
arms, sent a second foeman to the never-ending
trail of death.

Then with a yell, the fiends rushed forward,
passed the bodies of the planter and his wife on
the porch, and swarmed up the stairway.

They were met by a. charge of buckshot, and
the foremost fell against their more protected
comrades; but they pushed on, knowing that but
one man onposed their advance.

Pascal Jardin. with the thought of his mur-
dered parents lying below, fought with the des-

erate veggeance of the whelp—robbed tigress.

e clubb his rifle, but it was wrenched from
his hands, and then he had recourse to hisgrand-
sirs’s sword. ‘

Bloody work that War-honored steel performed
during the next minute; but the brave youth
was driven back. He retreated to a window
that looked upon the orange grove in the route!
the mansion—a window thirty feet from the
ground. One blow with the sword served to
shatter the sash, and the next moment he had
sprun from the room. , _

The ndians rushed to the window, expecting
no doubt to see a maimed in don the round be-
low; but they we disa painted—t 9 young
planter had esca ! ,

Then the work of destruction began. The ar-
mory was sacked, and the was us home to the

lawn in front of thalamus. oohte Baptiste J ’

t
,.y.
y’ ‘

 

 

Old Crossfire's Crisis.

 

' I Jardin had received a ractical demonstration
of the treachery of the ndians. He was carried
from the porch and laid beside his scalpless part-
ner. The first volley bad slain both.

The rich furniture of the mansion was collect—
ed in the parlor and the torch applied to it.
Then the marauders Withdraw to watch the pro-

ress of their work, and the four savages slain
gy Pascal Jardin at the top of the stairs were
taken from the house. Presently the flames
lea from the gothic windows, and in a little
while the entire mansion was wrapped in fire.
The torch was borne to the slave quarters, and
the great light that‘leaped Skyward and paled
the morning star was the one which attracted
the attention of other characters of our story.

With the exception of four maroons or run-
away slaves, the bloody hand was composed of
Seminole, Indians.

The leader was a young chief strikineg hand—
some and strong in authority. The glancing of
his dark eye was a command, to disobey which
was death.

He stood before the burning mansion with
folded arms, while his braves moved about de—
stroying the beautiful orange trees with their
tomahawks. The Indians seemed to harbor
some special hatred against the J ardins.

At last the work of destruction Seemed com—
pll‘etef, and the savages gathered around their
e 1e .

He looked down upon the dead warriors, and
counted them inaudibly, though his lips were
seen to move.

“ He who throws the pale planter’s scalp at
my feet shall become a chief!” he said, looking
up suddenly. “ Powell has spoken."

A minute later a number of horses were led
to the lawn. and the marauders began to mount
with their booty. The dead braves Were hur-
riedly lashed to their saddles, and the Creole’s
wea ns secured.

“ ow, Red Sticks, back to the war-trail!”
said the young chief, and the party moved
away. ,

But, suddenly. a volley was poured from the
road, and several saddles were emptied. . The
dead braves sitting upright were pierced through
and through.

Aloud cry pealed from the lips of the Red
Stick chief, and glancing over his shoulder, he
struck his steed with the needle- ointed spurs
_snd dashed away. His hand to IOWed, and a
moment later six horsemen darted across the
lawn in swift and vengeful pursuit! , -

Both parties were soon lost in the gloom that
lay beyond the light of the burning buildin ,
and a ter a time a solitary figure glided throng
the orange grove. It owned the shape of
the human form. and with the light fell upon it,

J ardin stood revealed. He was returning
to his desolated home. .. .

As the savages had offered no pursuit, per-
haps he had not fled far: his return seemed to
justify such a supposition.

was armed with a musket, and he examin-
ed the vicinity of the house before advancing
“Pinto the flreli ht. =3“; 9!."

the lawn e dropped beside his parents,
and remained there in s1 ence along time. At

 without a word, he rose and found a spade

w

 

which the flames had spared. To the orange
grove he bore the bodies and dug a grave there.

During his labors he uttered n0 audible words;
he heard nothing—not even the footsteps of the
persons approaching to disturb and to start
nm.

The first warning he received of the presence
of others was the touch of a hand.

Dropping the spade, he started toward the
musket, and clutched it before he noted the in-
truder.

“ ’Tis I, Pascal!” said the girlish figure that
advanced with uplifted hand. “ You are not
afraid of me?”

He started forward with a cry of astonish—
ment, and caught the white hand. '
I ‘faéfraid of you? No, girl!
is—

“ Here!" interrupted a voice, and a second
form clad exactly like the first stepped from the
shadows.

Pascal took the hand she extended.

“ Where are your masks?” he asked, looking
with surprise into the faces before him.

“We left them down the road," answered
one, glancing at her companion with a faint
smile, and then she resumed, in a sadder tone:

“ The fiends have been here.” .

“ Yes.” grated the young planter, “and in the
burial just performed 1 have uncbained the
demon of vengeance.”

“ You will join the Mixed Riders now?” cried
one of the twain, with a sign of hopeful joy.

“ You can "take their oath, for you have been
dot-ply wronged.”

Pascal J ardin hesitated.

“ If you love me, and wish for vengeance for
this night’s work, join the Mixed Riders,” said
the fair girl. sternly.

“I will. if their chief will take me?”

“ 'llell him that the White Blossom sent
you. ‘

“ You are mysteries to me ” said the youth,
stepping toward the twain. “ yWhfi‘do you fol-
low the Mixed Riders? Tell me. be hand of
every white and red man in Florida is raised
against them. Would you drive me into their
geplofieg ranks that mine may be a speedy death?

pea

“I have spoken, Pascal Jardin," replied the
first s eaker, sternly. “ If you love me, join the
Mixe Riders! Hark! they come! Look! they
are on the lawn. Now prove yur love, and
fulfill the oath of vengeance. Go!”

She pointed to dark forms on the burned grass
of, the once beautiful lawn, and the next mo- if
ment the youth found himself alone. The
strange riders had vanished like 5 tors. _ .

Pascal Jardin looked at the gures on the
lawn, and hesitated; and while he did this, he
heard two horses gallop through the orange

rove.

“The girl I love is a mystery. and so is her
cou‘gmnion,” he murmured, listening to the
1100 s. “ The Mixed Riders are doomed: but I
will obey her. Come weal or woe, I mil unite
my fortunes with Morello’s. /

CHAPTER V. ’
. nanonnous ems-mas.
We left Frank Nesbit, the scout’s protege

But where

.I,‘

 

Old Croulro’s Crisis;

 

goofing in the hands of Osceola, and now we
Wl return to him. ‘

The youth was in the act of following Old
Crossfire in his pursuit of Morello, when the
volley that suddenly terminated his calculations,
was poured from the darker recesses of the
hummock. It was evident that the Indians had
fired at random, for, as the reader has seen, the
big hunter escaped unhurt. Our young hero,
less fortunate, stopped suddenly, and :then sunk
at the foot of a tree, without a groan. ‘

Osceola at first thought that our hero had re.
ceived a death wound; but a brief examination
served to convince him to the contrary.
The Red Stick bullet had drawn blood from the
veins of the left temple, and beyond. rendering
the victim for awhile senseless, it did no fur-
ther harm. The chief smiled when he noticed
this, and his warriors gathered around to watch
the return of consciousness. _

What would Osoeola do with his captive?

The interrogative was written on the circle of
swarthy faces.

“ Kill himi kill himl" cried several braves.
“His people trail the Seminoles through the
everglades; they hunt them beside the streams,
and they would drive them beyond the great
. river in the west."

“ No!” said Osceola firmly, after listening sev-
eral minutes to the fiery words of his blood-
thirsty followers. “The pale boy is Osceola’s
ca tive; he will deal with him as he thinks best.”

but settled the question for the present; the
chagrined warriors returned their‘knives and
hatchets to their belts and stepped back.

Among the warlike red and black men of
Florida, Osceola, or Powell, as he was called by
the whites, was truly a king. And his word,
his look, was law.

The Red Stick slain by Old Crossfire was left
to sleep death’s long 0 cle where he had fallen,
and the remainder o the band mounted and
rode away. Osceola. was moroso and sullen,
speaking not. He held Frank Nesbit_ on the
horse before him, and led the van of his troop
with watchful eyes. By and by he drew rein,
and turned to his band. ~

“ Osceola turns to the right here,” he said.
“The Red Sticks will ride down to toe cypress
ford. When the morning star shines on the
water there Osceola will join them. Then we
will descend upon the Creole whose hot-headed
son talks of war.”

Not one of the braves replied to the chief-
taln’s words; they resumed the reins, and rode
on toward the north. . '

Osceola watched them awhile. and then turned
to the left with his charge. 1

Then for the first time he spoke directly to
the youth who had entirely recovered from the
effects of the shot. He asked him concerning
his parentage, and uttered a strange ejacula-
tion when the fate of Frank’s father was told.

“ Brave men with Dede!” said the chief.
. “ Osceola was there."

The youth shuddered. Perhaps his captor
had directed the fatal bullet to his father’s

Concerning the scout’s mission to the bum-
mock our was reticent. and Osceola did

not press him for replies. The chief seemed to

 

fear Old Crossfire while he praised his bravery '
and cunning. He said but little about the chief
of the Mixed Riders; but the boy learned
enough to know that the two chiefs were bitter
enemies, and that a traitor had guided Osceola
to the scene of the conference.

Deeper and deeper into the ovcrglades the
Seminole king went. Sometimes the horse
would tread solid ground, at other times sink to
his knees in the ooze and slime of a swamp.

Suddenly the chief came upon a hummock,
and the outlines of a but appeared. It was a

r small structure, and no signs of life were visible

about it. But as the twain advanced a guant
bulldog made his appearance, and showed his
teeth with signs of delight. The words with
which Osceola greeted the brute drew two per-
sons from the hut—a young Indian warrior and
Seminole girl.

“Well, I’m back again," said the chief, dis-
mounting and liftiii the youth from the saddle
as though he were a ittle child. “ In the woodsI
caught a white bird. Como, look at him, Gupta;
and you, too, Hawisho. Tell me, both of you,
what you think of him.”

The warrior approached boldly, and stepped
before the captive. Then folding his arms on
his, as yet, unscarred chest, be scrutinized him
from head to foot with his dark eyes. Canto,
the Indian girl, on the contrary remained in
her tracks, and bent her soft gaze on the boy.
Osceola looked on without a word.

“ Boy big enough to kill Indians,” said Haw-
isho at length, turning to Osceola.”

A faint smile came to the lips of the Seminole
kin". and his gaze wandered to (lapta.

' “ awislio has spoken, and his voice is - the
voice of one who hates his enemies. What does
Ca ta think of the captive?”

he girl blushed, and her gaze sunk beneath
the chieftain’s eyes.

“He is pretty; he is old enough to love,” she
murmured scarce above a faint whisper.

It was the language of the heart.

The smile grew broader on Qsceola’s faco, and
Hawisho’s countenance was covered with a
cloud. ‘ K ,

Hawisho was a handsome brave: but signs of
passion lurked in his eyes. Capta was very
beautiful in her simple Indian dress. and the
long black locks that touched her waist. ,

“Hawisho thinks of death, Capta of love,”'
Osceola said after a long pause. “ The pale boy
has come to dwell in Capta’s hut. Osceola
spares his life because his father was a brave
man—because he could die with Dade like a
great warrior. He will keep Gupta company
while Oscela and Hawisho are away.”

“ Hawisho is goini;r to guard Captn,” said the-
young warrior quicklih‘and with rising s leen.
“ He loves the Red use of the everg des.
Osceola knows th' .” t, \

“‘But he says that Hawisho must not remain
here always. The pale soldiers hunt Osceola,
and the young Seminole must be with him."

This was displeasing to the scarlet lover; ,but
he curbed his rising anger. r

“ Hawisho is true to Osceola; he will stand b
him through thick and thin,” he said. . >

The chief smiled, and looked at his captive.

"You must stay With Capt» till Osceola com

I

 

01d Crossfire's Crisis.

.,

 

He is going away now—going to the

again.
Capta,

cypress ford to meet the Red Eagles.
your father mourns for you.”

An. expression f sorrow came to the girl’s
face, and she s rted toward the Seminole

king.

“ Does Caloochie live?” she asked.

it Yes."

“ Then Capta stay away from her father’s
lodge. Make the old chief believe that his
daughter still lives; but tell him not where she
dwells.”

Osceola nodded, and vaulted into the saddle.

“ Hawisho will stay here till Osceola calls
him," he said, looking at the young warrior.
“ He will watch the pale boy with Capta.
Good-by." .

Then the horse’s head was turned to the west,
and Osceola rode away in the shadows.

He joined his band at *the ford, and led them
to the attack on the French Creole’s mansion,
which the reader has already witnessed.

Frank Nesbit watched the chief till his form
had disappeared. Nor did he turn away then;
but would have stood there gazing into the ever-
glade shadows until the breaking of day had not
Capta’s hand fallen on his arm.

“Pale boy hungry,” she said in a sweet voice.
“ Capta got good food in the lodge. Come in
and eat.”

The youth started and turned upon the bean-
tiful girl standing so near. A few steps away.
care sing the gaunt dog, was Hawisho, a forced
smile on his li s. but evil in his e e. Once or
twice he looke through his lon ashes at the
pair, and scowled; and when .apta
young hero into the but he hit his lips and mut-
tered a malediction.

Frank ate heartily of the venison and quail
which Capta set before him on a cloth spread on
the ground, and took long draughts of the cool
water that filled a gourd. The girl sat near him
and talked while he ate.

He learned enough of her historyto know
that she was a runaway girl, and the daughter
of Micanopy the aged chief of the Florida na-
tions. Aided by Osceola, she had fled from the
royal lodge, better contented to dwell alone
among the everglades than in the Seminole
city as the wife of a chief whom she did
not love. Osceola had a wife of his own;
he loved Capta because of her rsecutions, and
he had erected the hiding-p ace among the

,everglades. He ed Hawisho to the spot,
believing that Capta would love him, knowin

that he could trust the young warrior with
the secret of her retreat.

During the meal Hawisho remained outside
teasing the dog.

When he entered the hut, Capta was making
a couch of skins in one corner of the little room,
and he watched her with strange interest.

“Pale boy sleep well on wolf-skins,” she said
at last, finishing the bed. “ He is tired and
weak. Let him go to sleep now.”

Thanking the Indian girl for her kindness. our

turer laid down on the couch, and thought

novel situation. He saw Ca ta and her
: : ding in the door, and hear their mur—
f conversation.

led our;

 

“ N o cords needed,“ he heard the girl say.
“ He will not run off." ‘

He was about to assure her that the confidence
which she had reposed in him should not be
abused, when the air moved away, leaving the
dog lying acrOSs t e threshold, for they did not
even shut the door.

Their steps soon died away, and then the boy,
really fatigued, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

And while he slumbered the moon rose higher,
and her ambient li ht, streaming into the hut,
bathed the couch in aut)’.

By and by a dark figure approached the door,
and the dog raiscd his head. But a moment
later he dropped it again, and allowed the figure
to advance unchallenged. Across the thresh—
old the dark, half-naked Indian form crept, and
the gleaming object in his right hand was the
bright blade of a knife.

Straight toward the sleeping boy he crawled,
and at last bent over him.

Then the moonlight fell on the face of the red-
mnn, and the jealously vengeful features of Haw-
isho were revealed.

He believed that Osceola had gui ed a rival
to the but among the evergludcs, an he would

at him out of the way at once and forever.

noonscious of his danger the boy slept on, the
si us of a bewitxrhing dream crowning his lips.

awisho did not bend over the couch long be-
fore he raised the deadly blade. He set firm his
teeth, called his strength into play, and drew
back for the stroke of death, when a figure
sprung over the brute in the door, and a hand
encirc ed the assussin‘s wrist.

With a startling cry he leaped to his feet and
confronted Captal

“ Hawisho is a liar l” she said, shooting him a
look of withering scorn. “ He told Capta that
he heard anenemy. and that he would find his
scalp. Micanopy’s child waited for him. but he
came not. Then she hurried back to the lodge.
Yes, Hawisho is a liar, and Capta’s roof shall
not shelter such a man. He can go."

She pointed to the door with quivering finger,
but the ahashed villain hesitated.

“ Go!” she repeated, snatchingarifie from the
wall. “ Capta can watch the le boy alone.
Never ask for her laugh again. awisho. Oga,
make .way for the Seminole liar 1”

At the mention of his own name, the dog rose
and stepped aside. ‘

Clinching his hand, and hurling a look of
mingled hatred and revenge upon Capta and the
itill unconscious boy, Hawisho strode from the

at.

CHAPTER VI.
THE MOONLIGHT 9101‘.

ALL through that balmy February'night—for
a February night is balmy in Florida—Cams
watched the sleepin v boy. After Hamsho‘s de-
parture, she had c osed the door, and Oga the
"watch-dog lay near the threshold.

The eyes of the red princess beamed kindly on
the sleeper, and she would not close them during
the long hours. Perhaps she feared the return
of the baffled chief. for the rifle lay across her
lag, and a keen knife was within reach.

roubled in mind, the girl a cred, and ex-

hibited much uneasmesl as the ight of day in-

. w

 

creased. She wanted to muse the youth, yet
she hated to disturb his peaceful slumbers.

and by he opened his eyes and beheld his beauti—
ful watcher.

“ Pale boy, sleep well," said Capta with a
smile. “ He dreamed of happy hours, for he
smiled while Capta watched. Will hel not tell
his dream?" ‘ '

Frank N esbit sl ,wly shook his head.

“ I would not, girl," he said, “dud then
dreams are such foolish things besides. I will
get no and look about. Where is Hawisho?"

“He is one,” answered Capta. “ When he
went away 9 took his rifle and his knife, and he
said dark things with his eyes.”

The boy looked surprised.

“ Did you quarrel?” he asked.

Capta did not reply but looked away.

He pressed her to unburden her heart, and re
late the events of the ui ht.

At last she complie ,and the youth listened
to the narrative with bated breath. She told
the story of her heroism without ostentation.

*‘ He will come back and harm you,” said
Frank. “I am afraid of this. I care not for
myself."

“ Capta is Micanopy‘s child, and he dare not
touch her,” exclaimed the Seminole irl with a
show of pride. “ Listen, pale boy. he Semi-
nole nation believe that their princess is hidden
from her father and Caloochie; but they know
not where. No braves know save Hawisho; no
chief save Osceola. Her people say she is in the
right, and they will not take her back to Mican—
who believe; her dead.”
nt Hawisho may betray your retreat to
the king ” said Frank.

“Nol’ replied Canto thoughtfully, “he will
not do that, for he loves the princess. He hates
the pale boy." . .-

“I am glad of it. I have an enemy who is
worth the slavinz now,” cried the youth.
“ Gupta, what would Osceola say were he to re-
turn audl find you alone?” '

“ He would say ‘Good’ when Capta told him
all,” she answered quickly: “Pale boy, you
must go. You have told me about the big hun-
ter with whom on trail the flaw of the ever-

lades. Go to im. If you stay with Capta,

awisho Will return and drink your blood. In
the hummock woods and the swamp bushes you
are his equal. Captu Sets you free. She will
not make you wear that you will not seek the
scalps of her people. They have wronged you;
they scalped your father, and left him to rot
where he fell. It is just that you trail them.“

As she pausei she took a ride from the wall
and handed it to the youth.

“ And this," she continued. drawing from her
bosom a tiny SAHnish scarf of a beautiful crim-
son color, and elioetelv fringed with white and
green beads. “ Take the mantle of Micanopy’s
child: Her eoole know it; they respect it. If
the rifle of t e Seminole is aimed at’your heart,
show Capta’s mantle, and the ball will not leap
from the hollow red. A pale chief gave itto
Capta when she was a babe, and the nation
swore that it should he sacred, and the life of the
wearer. too.”

. Frank Nesbit stood before the Indian princess
like 0 pawn in a dream of enchantment, and he

In

Old Crossfire'o Grills.

allowed her to throw the scarf or mantle about
his neck.

“Now,” she said, rousing him, “the pale boy
must go. He and Capta will meet again. Let
him watch for Hawisho and‘for Osceola.‘ But
from Morello he has nothing to fear."

Our hero started at the last sentence, and was
about to speak concerning the Mixed Rider
when Capta pointed into the forest.

“ Look! the light of the sun creeps into Cap—
ta’s retreat. it will soon make plain the trailer
of the everglades.”

Frank Nesbit understood, and seized the scar
let hand upon whose fingers glistened a trio of
costly rings. , I ‘

She lethim raise it to his lips, and impulswely
he tore himself away.

A few minutes later the but and its occu out
had vanished from his sight, and he was pic ins
his we. across a dismal swamp. Capta ha
marke out the proper course, and he was pur-
suing it, confident that he would ere long reach
the road that led to the desolate plantation of
the Grants.

The strong daylight enabled him to pick his
way through the everglades with comparative
ease; but, notwithstanding this, he became be-
wildered, and at last reluctantly admitted that
he was describing a circle which he had made
before. ’ _

He saw that the sun had passed the meridian, ‘
and he was anxious to rejoin Old Crossfire,
whom he would doubtless find on .or near the
road. He had made 11 V, his mind to visit the
Grant ‘mausion alone, s ould he fail to find the
scout, for the home of Maggie Grant possessed
many pleasant recollections for him.

He sat down on a fallen tree and calmed his
bewildered mind. He partook of the roasted
partridge which Cu to had given him, and
then, strengthened y the rest, resumed his
'ourne .. The vale of death seemed to surround

im. Klo sounds came to his ears, the poisonous
aserpents made no noise as they crawled among
the decaying trees, and the turtle dived into the
heavy water in silence. 3

The sun crept westward, and the shadows of
the magnolias lengthened until they seemed to
kiss the horizon, and by and by the moon mani-
fested her presence in the skies.

All at once the Weary youth recognized his
whereabouts. He was in adiscernible path, and
a peculiar log told him that he had crossed it a
few hours before with Old Crossfire and his
blondhound.

His young heart gave a great leap for joy, and
he increased his gait wi h much eagerness. The
junction of the path with the read he sought,
was not far away, and he soon saw the moonlit
opening. ,
Had he not become bewildered in the ever~‘
gladee he would have reached the spot while the
sun was still high.

With an ejaculation of joy he leaned against ‘-
the very tree to which the reader has seen Old
Crossfire pin the appointment for the meeting at
‘ the Grant mansion that night. . a A

But the boy did not see the paper right > ~ = I
for the centering of two horses start]
and caused him toshelter ' in

none shade.

 

« ins,»

 

Old Crossfire's Crisis.

 

“ The ‘ accursed Mixed Riders are abroad
again,” he murmured, cocking Capta’s rifle;
“ I’ll drop one if I can."

A moment later the horses came in sight, and
the youth was surprised to behold the two mys-
terious trailers~tae two girls who have figured
so conspicuously and strangely in our ro-
mance. a

They drew rein in the road scarcely ten paces
from the watcher and conversed in low tones.
The light of the moon fell on the dark masks
that once covered their faces.

Eagerly Frank Nesbit bent forward to catch
their words, and to scrutinize their forms.

“Let us ride on and stop at the old house,”
said one in a voice that caused the youth to
start.

“ Why not follow them to tiie river, at least?”
“’Twill avail us nau.;ht. The hunter is not

about; he must be hunting the boy."

“ If the Seminoles have caught im, they will
give him short shrift.”

“If they do, let them tremble.”

‘The last words rippled over unseen lips in a

iss.

“ Girl, let us ride on. We can sleep in the old
place once more.“

“Then come." said the other. “We will——
back! they are returning!”

Instantly they wheeled their steeds and guided
them into the path. They halted within a few
feet of the youth, and sat immobile in the
saddles.

The cause of their action was soon ap ment—

8. number of horsos were approaching mm the
west. .
Presently a band of men, easily recognized as
the Mixed Riders, drew rein in the road, and on
the very spot lately vacated by the two fe-
males. '

Frank Neshit counted them; there were seven.

He saw the matchle$ form of Morcllo, and
his fingers wandered to the trigger, but he kept
the weapon low, and watched the women and
the Riders alternately. - ' n

At the edge of the group sat a man whose
figure and bearing proclaimed him a ale-face.
The (youth noticed him, and wondered, who he
coul be And while he. looked he heard one of
the two females whisper: ' »',

“ He is with them!” “

Suddenly the strange tableau was broken.
The Mixed Riders were gathering u their reins
when the report of a rifle was hear . The man
upon whom the youth was gazing qliivered in
the saddle, and With a wild shriek dropped the
reins.

He would have fnllen had not Morelln’s arm
shot forward and snatched him from his horse!

The next moment 5 urs glittered in the moon-
light, and the Mix Riders Were flying down
the fatal road. -

A cry from one of the women startled the

011th. u
“ They have killed him already! Horror! It
was I. sister, who drove him to his death 1” the
hidden lips gasped, and the speaker fell into the
arms of her companion.
trust that he is not dead," said the stronger
“'Roule, sister. We will hunt the man
fired that shot.”

1/

 

“Did you recognize the crack of that rifle!”
asked the faint girl, rising. ‘

“ Yes, ’twas his-01d Crossfire’s.”

“ He may curse this hour on his dying day!"
said the second girl, firmly.

“ Ay! but what is this?"

With a start the speaker leaned forward in
the saddle; the scout’s notice on the leanin tree
had caught her attention, and Frank esbit
held his breath.

CHAPTER VII.
run SCALPLESS scour.

AFTER deciphering the notice. the two women
riders walked their steeds into the road and cam
‘tered slowly toward the Grant Plantation.

Frank Nesbit waited till the sound ,of hoofs
had died away before he spoke. "

“I do not know what to make of all this,” he
said gazing at the white paper which the girl
had not disturbed. “The sound of a voice
which I; have just heard calls up recollections of
the post—recollections of the days when Maggie
Grant was living. I seem to live in a world
of mystery. But,” and he started from the
tree. “ the life of my friend is in dangcrl I too
recognized the crack of Crossfii'e’s rifle. His
hall struck the lover of one of those strange
girls, and she seeks his blood. She will not
spare him.”

Tearing the notice from the ma nolia that no
one alter him might See it and see the place of
meeting with malicious demgns. he sprung into
the road and hurried after the twin night ridersé

He knew that the Grant mansion was not in
down the road, and that the twain would reach
it before him. I ,

By extra exertion h! might gain the old
goose in time to lend .his friend valuable assis-

me.

He ran over the major part of the distance,
and at last, silent and seemingly tenantless in
the moonlight, he behcld the ruined house.
Drawing near under cover of the trees he in-
spected the place: but not a living object repaid
his scrutiny. Old Crossfire had had time to
reach the spot since the delivery of the fatal
shot, and it was not likely that the masks had
relinquished their intention of seeing him there.

Frank Nesbit weighed the case pro and can
before advancing, and ~still unsettled in mind,
left his concealment.

“ Come wea‘l) or, woe," he murmured, “ I'll
satist in den ts- ‘ ,

He ‘enciprcled the building cautiously, and then
entered through the kitchen. . . I

The silence of death bun about him. and
the sickly moonlight seemed t e very pail of death
itself. > '

Into the large parlor he advanced with increas-
ing com-ace. but only to greet Silence and va-
canr-v as before.

“Sam isn't here ” he murmured, stepping to
the wind0w and drawing the curtains aslde.‘
“I Wonder what keeps him. I have kept
ihriygpurt of the appointment; he should keep ,

is. . I I .

A flood of moonlight streamed into the chem- ‘ r

bar, and drew queer shadows on the walls. 5 . 

 

.Old Croaafire’a Crisis.

 

Absorbed in thought the youth stood at the
window, until a slight noise. like that made by
the moving of a chair startled him.

He turned quickly on his heel, and the next
Inpatient with an ejaculation of surprise sprung
an e.

For be confronted a tall Indian whose toma-
hawk had Without doubt been poised over his
unprotected head.

Mechanically his fingers flew to his rifle; but
the clicking of other looks deterred him, and he
saw tufted heads rise over the old French piano.

Resistance was useless, and with the best grace
he could command, he allowed himself to be
made a. prisoner!

“ Pale boy wait for scout," said the Indian
who had startled him at the window. “ But he
come not. See 1"

The Seminole’s hand flew to his belt, and a
fresh scalp was drawn therefrom.

“ Scout watch Mixed Riders,” continued the
savage, “ and he shoot one—down by head of
everglade trail. Mebbe boy hear gun. Caloo-
chic and his braves there. and when scout turn
to run Hawisho‘s arrow hit ’im and Caloochie
get his scalp. He brave man, kill many Semi-
noles; but he treads the long trail now. ”

A tour for the fate of Old Crossfire stood in
the youth’s eye while the Indian spoke.

The scout's absence was now explained.

“ Did pale boy see the two squaw riders?”
asked Caloochie suddenly.

0‘ Yes,”

“They ride by here while a o. Caloochie
waiting for them to come back. hey stop and
look at house; but all at once ride away asif the
Red Sticks were on their trail."

The youth saw that the Indians were lying in
wait for the riders, who in all probability had
discovered the presence of foes and made good
their escape.

But he was a prisoner again.

By and by the remainder of Caloochie’s band
crept over the piano and prepared to depart.
One carried Old Crassflre’s rifle, another his
knife. They took exultant pride in displaying
the trophies to the youth, who said nothing.

The Indians' steeds were tethered in the orange
grove in the rear of the house, and pleased, yet
dissatisfied with their night‘s ride, is ey mount-
ed. Caloochie vaulted to the back of a white
horse, and Frank N esbit was helped to a seat be-
fore him. '

“ Caloochie take little hair from scout,” said
the chief, directin the boy’s gaze to the iron-
gray scalp that ung at his belt. “But it
enough to tell Osceola that his white foe is dead.
Ha! ha! boy never trail with Scout again,

Caloochie paused suddenly. ,

Perhaps he caught the clicking noise that her-
alded his doom. .

The crack of a. rifle brought every horse to a.
dead halt.

The Red Stick leader reeled in his saddle and
tumbled to the ground with a dark red spot be
tween his serpent eyes! .

It was a death-shot; the bullet was in Caloo-
chie‘s brain. ,,

In the confusion that followed Frank Nesbit
found himself unnoticed. He sat on the chief’s
hone unbound, and with the reins in his hands.

 

z

Acting upon the impulse of the moment, he
shouted the Seminole command to the white
steed, and was off like a. shot. His action was
greeted with a yell of rage, and forgetting that
the foe who had deprived Caloochie of life might
be ready for a second victim, the savages threw
their guns to their shoulders.

Simultaneously four rifles cracked. but the
adventuresome youth remained in the saddle
and soon disappeared.

The white horse was a creature of strength
and beauty. and exerting his supply of the for-
mer became unmanageable.

When he struck the road his young rider tried
to keep him therein, but signally failed‘ With
a bound be cleared the stretch of beaten ground,
and dashed across the broad savanna. that lay
be 0nd.

uring his flight from the orange grove a
bough had deprived Frank of his hat, and the
winds toyed with his long, auburn hair.

By and by the horse settled down to a moder-
ate speed; and with joy oung Nesbit discov-
ered that he could control im. V

“ l’ll go back to the road now,” he said, turn~
ing the animal’s head, and away he cantered in
a southeasterly direction, aiming to strike the
road at its junction with too often described
eVerglade trail.

He busied himSelf in forming plans which
were abruptly broken by the sudden halting of
the horse.

The cause of the animal’s strange action was
soon a parent. The body of a man lay on the
tramp ed grass, and the youth bent down to look
at it. He gazed a moment, and then with a
cry of horror leaped to the ground. V

As he knelt beside the body a growl arrested
his attention, and a. Cuban bloodhound came
forward, showing his teeth.

The horse showed some signs of fright, but
the youth retained the reinsand calmed the ex-
cited beast.

“ Sam, Sam Thatcher!” cried the boy. “ Are
you dead? ‘The Red Sticks are on the warrpath;
but I am here. I came to hunt our common
enemy. But—but he is gone. Tiger.”

, Tim dog sat up a mournful bowl, and seizing
his master by the collar shook him violently.
“ ’Tis .no. use, Tiger!” said the boy. “
old master is dead. You will never—” _
The youth started tohis feet, for the scout had

opened his eyes.

“ What does this mean?” was his first ejacu--
lation, permittin his eyes to wander wildly
about. “ I thong t they had killed me. After
I shot the Mixed Rider something hit me in the-
side, and then I fell back.” ,

“ It was an arrow, Sam, and the shaft is
broken 08 in your bed ," said the youth, “ and
they seal ed you, too.’

‘ Wha l hev the red-skins got Sam Thatcher’s
scalp? No, boy, that cannot be. Put my hand
to "lily head. I’m rather weak.”

T 9 boy lifted the hand, and the scout’s face
was crossed by a ludicrous expression.

“ Sculped, by Tam al” he cried. “ Put Ti-
ger’s paw u there,
know that ’m a soul less man.”

The youth obeyed be strange reghmt. _

one asks:

our

“Where‘d you get that h

 

ank. Iwant the dogto 

Old Crossfire’s Crisis

 

Crossfire looking up at the white steed. “ It
looks like one Calooehie rides.”

Frank Nesbit replied that it was the same.
animal, and narrated his adventure at the plan-
tution. Old Crossfire listened attentively, and
when the youth had finished, said:

“J ist help me on the beast, Frank. I’m
sorter weak, you see. Sculped, by Tampa! 01d
Crossfire hasn’t finished the Mixed Riders yet.
He war born to do this. We‘ll go down to the
old house. I want to solve a kind of a mystery
down than”

CHAPTER VIII.
A B R A v E M A N .

“THIS is what a fellow gets for joining the
Mixed Riders—a bulletin his breast, and that
bullet from the rifle of a white man. 1 wish
this life would terminate one way or the other
and that quickly. Heaven knows that I do not
possess enough patience to worry through with
a wound. I wish I could get about again. By
George! I’d desert Morello, and that girl should
learn that her pretty eyes cannot drive Pascal
.iardiu to death the second t1nie.” .

The speaker reclined on a herf skins in the
dusky corner of a small compartment.

His face was much emaciated, but the livid
spots of hectic foyer burned on his cheeks. and
his eyes beamed with an unnatural luster. ear
him stood a brown earthen pitcher and a goblet
which was filled with a brackish liquid. A
plate of food also was within reach.

The cabin which ‘ he inhabited stood on the
gently slopin: sides of a small hammock and
the outlook from the low-brewed door was any-
thing but pleasantness.

The reader has seen Pascal J ardin, the young
Creole, receive his Wi'lllhl.

It was the youthful planter who received the
scout’s bullet at the hen l of the everglade trail
while the two masks and Frank Nesbit watched
the Mixed Riders.

"‘Ten days had passed away since that eventful
night, and during that time the planter had
skirted the valley of the dead. 7

From the fatal spot Morello had borne him to
the but on the hummock, and for six days
watched him unceasingly. Some invisible cords
seemed to bind tile 1: vain together. According
to the girl’s commands, Pascal Jardinhud joined
the Mixed Riders, but his career with them
seemed inclined to be brief.

During his sickness he had reflected on the
events of the lust fortnight which seemed a
dream. He could scarcely believe that during
such a brief period he had been deprived of his
parents, and that the words of a weak girl had
driven him almost to death.

“ She does not seek me now,” he had hissed
almostathousand times. “I believe that she
loves the American boy. after all. If she 10Ves
Pascal Jardin she would have been here ere
this. I have been a woman’s fool.”

His soliloquies invariably wound up with the
sentencejust written, and so often ad he ut-
tered them. that he believed their truth.

A * sky shades of a March day were gather-
nd the-lonely cabin where the wounded

lay. He had reclined on the couch for
our hours without having entertained a

 

single visitor. The Mixed Riders were abroad
he knew not where they rode, but they had left
him medicine, food and water.

He listened to the gentle noise of the swaying
branches that now and then touched the roof of
the. cabin, and strange sounds startled him.
Evidently he was awaiting the return of a
fi‘hnl.

All at once footsteps fell on his listening ear.
and his hand crept away from the couch till it
touched a pistol. With his eyes fastened on the
window or port—hole in one side of the chamber, ‘
he waited for a repetition of the sound.

Suddenly the head of an Indian appeared in

- the opening, and a pair of vengeful eyes seemed

to regard him with triumph.

The features of the visitor could not be seen,
and the young planter doubted if his own per-
son was visible to him as the tufted bead almost
{illpd the window and deprived the cabin of

in it.

With strange curiosity the savage head was
regarded. It seemed to be glued to the sill as it
moved not, and at last unable to control himself
longer the planter cooked the pistol and leveled
it.

Still the savage remained immovable 'and
with as deliberate an aim as he could obtain,
Pascal touched the trigger.

There was a loud report, and with a wild
shriek the head vanished.

“It was a Seminole!” exclaimed'tbe Creole,
startled at the results of his shot. “ Now I sup-
pose— Listen! I am surrounded."

The trend of many moccasined feet was dis-
tinctly heard without the cabin, and the young
planter held his breath.

The hummock, perhaps, was swarming with
Indians.

Moments seemed minutes as he waited for the
breaking of the dread spell. and the sudden
blow on the well-barricaded door almost drove
him from the couch.

” Well, what do you want?” he cried in a
loud tone immediately after the sturdy blow. .

“ W out door open !' .

“Then open it!” replied the young planter. v
“ I will not touch it!”

A minute’s silence followed his reply.

“ Pale-face must 0 )en the door. Hawisho
and a hundred Red ‘tieks surround the hut.
They are mad; the blood of Red Fox calls from
the leaves for revenge.”

“ 1 may as well tell you first as last that I will
not open that door to you!" cried the Creole
firmly. “ You scalp a. dead men when you
scalp me. I will never surrender to the mur-
derers of my parents.” '

“ Hawisho didn’t kill Creole’s parents.”

“ Your tribe did, and it amounts to the same
thing; You might as well proceed to busi-
ness.

The butt of a rifle answered the brave man,
and he staggered from the couch, rifle in hand.

Hawisho retreated from the door. and Pascal
heard the sound of many vmces in consultation.

By this time the day-had declined, and the
pull of a Florida night had been thrown over w
the scene. .

The defender of the cabin walked to the wall
and tried to see the crowd of fees that helda

 

, Old Croasflre'u Crick.

 

council of war not far from the door. He heard
the council break up, and the footsteps again
encircling the cabin.

Then Hawisho’s voice was heard.

“White chief is brave, and the Red Sticks
have hearts,” he said. “If he opens the door
he ma walk away, and the Indians will burn
the cabin of the yellow hound. What does he

so. i”

x I say that Hawisho is a liurl” was the re
sponse from the interior of the cabin. “ You
would let me walk to a certain spot, and then
you would shoot me down. I will hold no more
parleys with you. I am road 'dici”

"Paleface too bravo to ic," said Ha’wisho,
turning away. “ Pale girl cry when she hear of
his fate." I

Pascal J ardin started at the last words, which
the Indian had uttered in a low tone. and was
about to call him back when a second thought
checked his purpose.

“ No: the red dog sha’n’t cozen me," he said.
“ He is guessing that I love a white girl-—
that is all. He never heard of Maumce Glyn-
dou—nor of her cousin Maggie. . Hois lying.
Oh, Maumeo, to this you have driven me. and
for what?"

He leaned against the Wall as he spoke, and
an expression of pain had settled on his face,
alreadly pale and haggard from the cifects or his
woun .

“ Let them do their Worst.
exclaimed, after a long pause.

Suddenly the light of a torch flashed into the
room, and as it disappeared, the voice of an In-
dian was heard.

“ Pale dog. we are oing to burn the Wigwam
over your head. “ o-morrow the leaves will
fall on your bones.” _ .

Pascal Jardin did not speak, but gritted his
teeth and kept his post.

He heard a quantity of dry boughs piled
against; the door, and then the firebrand was
a is . '

p be flames crackled with demoniac fury, and
creeping along the logs, appeared at the win-
dow, and darted their scarlet tongues at the
brave planter, who still griped the rifle; but not
a l'oe could he see.

No doubt they were looking on the work of
their hands with eyes agleam with devilish tri-
umph, watching carefully, too, lest he should
escape from the burning.

A l at once. and with a crash that sounded on
his ears like the knell of doom, the door, burned
completely through, fell in. and the room filled
with fire.

Then the young planter lei't his post. His
peril made him forget .his weakness and seemed
to ve him strength.

6 retreated from the flames and reached the
ladder that led to the garret. The opening made
in the strong floor above was protected bya
door. which could be fastened securely on the
upper Sine.

Pascal! Jardin ascended the ladder slowly,
EPd Wlth a terrible determination written on
his tube.
flI'i‘he flarfles_were

y were clung up
abandoned.

I am ready 1” he

laying havoc below him:
e soft couch he had lately

I

y I W.

 

“Gods! if I could pay the fiends for their ‘ '
work!” he hissed, when near the top of the lad-
der. “ Maumee Glyndon, l’d give my life to see
you now. If I be ieved you truly love me, I
could die like a true J ardin!" I

With the last words, he threw back the
batten door, and then recoiled with a ghastly

cr .

¥he roof of the cabin was on fire, and smoke
and flames filled the garretl

Surely the last hour of the brave planter had
arrived.

The flames had attacked the foot. of the
ladder!‘

CHAPTER IX.

ANOTHER CAPTURE AT run OLIY MANSION.

WHILE Hawisho and his Red Sticks were he-
sieging Pascal Jardin in the burning cabin on
the hummock, strange events were transpiring
on a spot uite familiar to the reader.

We left 1d Crossfire and his protege riding
toward the well-known Grant mansion—the
scout weak from wounds inflicted by arrow and
scalping‘knife. But a small portion of his scalp
had been removed, and he did not seem to
mind it, as the wound promised to give him
no trouble. He drew the broken shaft from
his side, and discovered that it had injured no
gital organs. Still, however, he had lost much

The ride to the old house was not attended
with danger, and after a thorough reconnois-
sauce the twain entered to find it entire] ten-
antlesa Frank N eshit’s late captors had oubt-
less pursued the slayer of their chief, and would
not return. Therefore, the two did not antici-
pate an attack. and the scout’s wounds were
dreSsed by the youth.

The remainder of that night and the followin
day were s at beneath the mansion root, an
when the s ades of night again prevailed, they
took their departure.

“ Now we’ll hunt the Mixed Riders in earnest?"
01d Cressfire had said looking to his rifle for the
tenth time. “ In less than a. fortnight we’ll
clean the hand out. and during the time, Frank
we’ll also try to solve that little mystery about
the als.”

ith the foregoing digression from the o n- '
ing sentences of the current chapter, we re urn
to the Grant mansion. ‘

The dav was rapidly waning when the two
Masked Riders who have played such a strange
and conspicuous part in our Floridian romance.
rode into the orange grove in the re r of the old
house and dismounted. They tet ered their
horses to a young tree and entered the kitchen.

Already a silver moon had appeared above
the horizon, and its ambient light stole into the ’

'l‘ of.

pa“ This is the old place, Maggie.” said one of
the visitors, for the first time throwing back her
mask and revealing a beautiful face pale and‘
tearful. “ Here we pasaed many happy hours."
' “But they have vanished forever. ’ said the ‘
other who had drawn the piano-stool up to the
ivory keys. “ Maumee, come here. ' - -
and you shall sing.” _

,“ No. no. cousin,” and Maurice. start

face paler than ever. " It

 

Old Croasflre’a Crisis.

 

Foes ride up and down the road. Osceola and
his Red Sticks are abroad.”

“ I will—I must pla i" replied the one at the
instrument with a s ow of firmness. “M
heart is breaking in this, the old house. 1'
Osceola and his scarlet marauders listen at the
very doors, I will lay.”

The girl called aumee saw the pearly tears
that trickled down the speaker‘s cheek and
turned away.

“ Play then, Maggie.
heart," she said.

Lightly yet burdened with sadness, the fair
girl’s hands swept over the keys, and a. beautiful
song floated upward. Rich were the voices of
the singers. musical the long-deserted instru~
ment, and despite the dangers that lurked about
them, they sung of the past.

At last the final strain died away, and the
performer rose and kissed her companion.

“ Come, let us go now, Mag is,” said Maumee
touching the slender arm of t e irl whom she
addressed. “ Let us go out an look at the
graves." .

“ In a minute, cousin,” was the reply, and the
speaker moved to the elaborate center-table and
lifted therefrom a large copy of the Scriptures.

She turned the leaves until her eyes rested
upon the “family record.” For a moment she
feasted them on the record of births; but turned
to the death list. It was not full. There was
but one name—the name of Judson Grant.

“I will add another record," she murmured,
and drawing a pencil from her bosom, she wrote
in a firm hand:

I hope ’twill ease my

“ Momma:
Massacred by the Indians, November 25th, 1835.

The hand that records thy doom hath terribly
avenged thee, mother."

Maumee looked over the writer’s shoulder and
murmured as the last word was written:

“Yes, Maggie; six and twent Indians have
paid for that night’s work with t eii- lives.”

Then the old book was closed and returned to
its place, the masks were adjusted again, and
V the twain left the house, but not without casting
a “ longing. lingering look behind."

Straight toward the three raves already de-
scribed the hastened, and at ength with hands
clasped in ads, teal-fully stood over them.

Suddenly one of the girls stooped and looked
up into her companion’s eyes.

“ Maumee, some despoiler has been here,” she

“ No! who would seek to dishonor the dead so
lon buried!" ‘

“ ven knows, cousin; but believe me that
ruthless hands have visited this sacred spot.
Mother’s grave has not been disturbed, but the

, others have been desecrated.”

An examination proved the truth of the asser-
tion. 'l’wo of the mounds had been disturbed.
The a pearance of the earth seemed to point to
an ex umation, and the girls, lifting their masks

: stared into each other 3 face.

r

 

For a moment a deathly silence reigned about
the raves.

“ here are two persons who might wish to
Efy into the secrets of these mounds,” said

aumee, at last.

"And pray who are they? I might guess;
but I will not try. Tell me. Maumee.

“ The scout and the b(

“ I thought of them.
been here?"

“ Something tells me that they llflVO, and
makes me believe that this is their work.”

" I did not want them to discover all ct."

“No. But, Mafigie, tell me one thing. Do
not withhold it. rank Ncsbit has not forgotten

on. Have you forgotten him?"
y lb
No, Maumee."

“You loved him once, Maggie, for you have
told me so.”

“ I was a girl then, and,” nith a faint smile,
“you were my rival.”

“ Yes: but that was so ion ago.”

“ Pascal J ardin bus stop between.”

“Poor fellow!” said aumoo, with a sigh.
“I believe him dead. The scout shot him; we
saw him rail and swore to hunt the ale-face for
that shot. Morello would not to 1 me about
Pascal when last I‘ saw him, so I believe him
dead.” I

“ Now on can love the scout’s b

“No. . aggie, he is your love.
a ririag."

“ ut do not forget that I was a girl then—a
child."

“ Where is the ring?”

“ Back there in the house.”

“ Ah, a irl’s love is a fickle thin . You love
one whose ife hangs on a threa . You have
turned from a white boy to one whose skin is
dark.”

“But he is so brave, Maumee. You know
what we owe him?”

“ I wish we owed him nothing.” '

Maggie bowed her head and stood like a penir
tent over the graves.

Her companibn watched her reproachfully,
and in silence.

“ I love him still,”-she murmured, at length.
“but”my latest love is‘pledged to the hunted
man

“ Break it 1”» _ i

“I cannot. Cousin Maumee, nothing save
death can separate me from the chief of the
Mixod Riders.”

“ Then may Crossfire’s bullet . edin find his
heart,” ejaculated Maumee, and aggie started
forward.

“Girl, what has come over you? Why do,
you talk thus? You do not love me.”

“Love you, Maggie? Ihave never for one
moment ceased to—”

The cracking of a twig broke the sentence, ,
and the twain ooked up to behold halt a score
of Indians. ' ‘

Instantly their rifles were snatched from the'
ground; but the stern voice of a tall chiet kept
them from their shoulders.

“ Pale girls, gut up guns.
braves are on t eir triggers.’ .

“Must we surrender to our worst enemies!” 'w

, '1’
file you think they have

0 .”
g9 gave you

,The fingers of my

said Maumee, looking at her triénd.

 

18

' 01d Crouflre’s Crisis.

.

 

“ Yes: resistance would avail us naught. Oh,
Mmunee, if we had heard the footstep sooner.”

Quietly the masks threw their weapons on the
ground in token of submission, and with exul—
taint ejaculations their captors came forward.
The red stick that a prominent warrior bore,
proclaimed the identity of the band.

“ Osceola trailing through the everglades
when he heard sweet music,” said the king of
the Seminoles, for the leader of the band was
none other than that redouhtable man. “ So
he turns aside and leads his braves to the old
house. Now he see who pale-faces are. Will
they lift the black cloth for Osceola?”

lVithout a word the captives raised the masks,

and the chief gazod into their faces a long time.

“ Girls, pretty girls-brave,” he said. “ They
have hunted the Red Sticks 3. long time; but,”
glancing round upon his braves, “they will
hunt them no more. Osceola must keep his
word. The Great Spirit has written it down
that he mi ht never forget.”

“ And w at has Osceola sworn to do?” asked
Maggie, calmly.

“ He has sworn to give the pale trailers over
to his warriors. They have followed the Mixed
Riders: they have protected their chief from
Seminole arrows and bullets: they have killed
six and twenty Red Sticks. For all this Osce-
ola’s braves demand their blood.”

‘ “Osceola then will kill women.”

The girl’s words stung the chief to the heart,

. and his eyes drooped in shame.

“ I thought that Osceola commanded the Red
Sticks.” said Manmee.

“ He does: but he cannot break his word,” re-
plied the chief, in low tones, as he raised his
eyes. “ Hawago, the pale girls are yours, and
you lead the braves of Osceola now. Meet your
chiel', warriors, at the cypress ford when the
sun rises. Osceola has kept his word.”

Without glancing at the doomed pair, the
Seminole chief mounted his steed and rode
away.

A minute later the cousins were assisted to the
backs of their own horses, and guarded by their
on tors, conducted from the spot.

hey read their doom in the gleaming eyes
that ever regarded them.

Hawago had stri pad the masks from their
faces into which he oved to gaze with fiendish
triuxVi‘i’ph.

“ hither arewe riding?" asked Maggie, at
length, turning to the leader of the/bond.

“ The pale girls are riding to the long trail
that leads to the Manitou’s land; reach it
by’m—hy.”‘ V

’I‘raversing the orange grove, the band olim b-
ed the SideS_ of a hummock, and saw a fire il-
liimine the distant horizon. Maiimee called the
attention of her companion in captivity to the
sight. neyer dreaming that Pascal Jardin stood
in the midst of the flames.

CHAPTER X.
HELP.
THE two girls and their captors were not the

only persons who behold the flames of Pascal,

Jardin’s fort from ‘
- ' Y“.

,x ,,

 

afar.
With interest and anxiety they looked at the

light until the leader of the" band told them to
move on, and deeper into the forests they
plunged to a fate yet wrapped in mystery.

I have said that the burning cabin a tracted
the attention of persons beside those who com-
prised the group we have just left.

On the summit of a thinly-wooded hummock
two miles south of the fire stood two figures
holding the relns of two black horses. It was
evident that they had lately reached the spot for
the steeds were still panting from exertion, and
the faces of their owners were flushed.

Could the reader have seen them he would
have recognized Old Crossfire and Frank Nesu
bit.

“ I don’t know what it means exactly,” said
the trailer, turning to the youth. “I hevn’t
heard a shot, an’ I guess that the massacre’s
about over.”

“ But who lived in that cabin?” queried the

boy.

“Nobody that I know of. [ peeked into it a
few days afore I fu‘st met you, an’ it was empty.
’Pon my soul! I didn’t know that it war in—
habited. But let’s go down. I'm kind 0’ curi-
ous. What has happened in the last two weeks
has kinder turned my head. Who’d ’a‘ thought
that Mrs. Grant was sleepin’ atween two slavas."

The boy did not reply; but murmured to him
self as he turned to his horse. "

The twain descended the rather precipitous
slope of the hammock, leading their beasts and
mounting below, hurried toward the fire.
Brighton and brighter grew the flames, and
at length Thatcher and his protege reached a
secluded spot within a. hundred yards of the
burning structure. ’

“They've got somebody hemmed up in that
shanty, ‘ said the trailer confidently, returning

to the youth after a short and cautious recon- ,‘

noissance; “ but I don’t know who it is. I can’t
hear a sound. an’ I guess that he hes passed in
his papers. Nobody could stand it long in there
the Way the fire is ragin"! The Red Sticks take
things coolly.” ‘ ' ' e
“The Red Sticks," ejaculated oung ‘Nasbit.
“ I thought they were the Mixed iders.” .
“No; it’s a part of Osceola’s band, an’ Haw-
isho is at the head of ’em.” ,
“Why that is the yellow who attempted to
nigger me in Capta’s but!” said the youth, sur-
ri . ' ’ r
“Then ov course you hevn’t got real brother-
ly feelings for him. My fingers itched to draw
on ’im, he was standin’ so beautiful like og’in’a
tree; but I thought it wouldn’t do.
here to see what the devils are up to. I want
to know who they’ve cornered in this old out-oh
the-way cabin.”

While 01d Crossfire spoke. he’kept his 5 as

fixed on the burning but, and all at once’ a ull

noise like the falling of a heavy body within the , ‘ 

structure fell upon their ears. ,

“ The thing is goin’to rocks,” said this trap
per. “ I wonder if the treed chap didn’t refuse
to give in.
heavensl” .

FrankNesbitt uttered an ejaculation
tonishm’eut simultaneously With the 'tra
and'with hearts throbbing wildly in'
throats as it were, they gazed upon th

\

We’ll wait ,_

He's got the grit of a— Great " l

 

- I  suit, and found the

. Old Crossfire’s Crisis.

19

 

tibia object that had leaped from the fiery
cu in.

It had the form and semblance of a man, and
a calmer look told the trailer and his com )anion
t t it was a man enveloped in flames. e nt-
t d a wild shriek as the forest air struck his
{is on, and drove the Scarlet flames into his
time, and he staggered a few feet from the door
and dropped to the ground.

The Indians recovered from the fright into
which his terrible and sudden appearance had
thrown them, leaped forward and extinguished
the flames with their blankets. -

They rudely jerked the man from the round,
and with praises of his bra'Very and en urance
gathered around, and began to ply him with a
hedlam of interrogatives.

“I was not strong enough to load my rifle
when on came," the two white spectators
heardt ecaptive say, “ hence but one of you
has fallen. I do not expect more at your
hands because I do not deserve it. .our toma-
hawks drank the blood of my mother and father;
my weapons have glutted themselves with the
blood of your accursed race.”

The Indians utte ed shout'of vengeance, and
turned inquiringlyf to the chief—Hawisho. A

Just then Sam Thatcher and his companion
mounted their horses.

“ We’ve got to savo that fellow; he’s toobrave
mbetomahawked by a lot 0’ sneakin’ Semi—
:iolfg,” said the Indian-fighter between his
ee .

“We must not fail!”

“We will not. boy! Now, you take that tall
Indian With the big feather on his head. I’ll at-
tend to Hawisho. As our rifles crack draw
your pistols and ride down upon them. Ready?”

“ I am ready.”

For a moment the stillness of the grave per—
vaded the secluded place, then two miles
cracked. .

From the grou about the defender of the
cabin a brace of L minoles staggered and drop-
ped to the ground—dead!

The others were thrown into confusion, and
. the slayers rode down upon the scalpers like do-
, mons of the wind. The attack so unlocked-for
' and sudden was more than the six remaining
.braves could stand, and leaving their captive

alone they beat a hasty retreat, and disappeared
.. in the forest where the now waning ligh of the
cabin did not penetrate.

.The two victors returned after a brief pur-
. is man leaning against a
2 tree. His clothing ad been terribly burned by
the flames, and he presented an aspect assuredly
«horrible. . '

"' Well, well, man," began the trapper:

.1“. ou’ve bed a, lucky ’scape. Why did you
clngto the old shanty when the rafters war
fallin‘ in?"

“I tried to escape by the ladder; but I found
the attic on fire when I lifted the trap, and
while I stood there, horror-stricken, the flames
burned the ladder OE and I was buried to the

. I lay there rendered partly insensible
thede until he fire licked In face. then 1
n exertion to escape. Hal -bewildered I
door and ran into the midst of t o

. Isn’t yourname Thatcher?”

 

w.

The trailer smiled at the abruptness of the
question.

“ Yes,” he answered.
be?”

“ My name is Jardin.”

“ The Indians hev been to your house. I rod-3
up thar the do after their bloody work. This
boy is Frank eshit.” ‘

‘ I thought so,” said the young Creole, and a
strange light danced in his eyes. “ I thought
he was the follow.”

The words were couched in ahiss which the
youth could not fail to notice.

“ I trust We shall be friends," he said, looking
squarely into Jardin’s eyes. “ I am glad that
we were enabled to save you."

“I am not.” the Creole said bitterly. “ I
would now that you had remained away. I
would be dead instead of talking here."

“ This is funny talk,” broke in Thatcher. “ A
man’s a fool to wish himself dead. I want to
live till 1' have taken the life of every Mixed
Rider, an’ then I’ll go back to Tennessee aii’
wait till the trumpet calls me.”

" Would you kill a Rider now if you could?"
asked the Creole. with a strange smile passing
over his pallid face.

“ Try me, Mr. J ai‘din.”

“I will. I am a Mixed Rider. Kill me!”

The trailer started back and gazed amazed
into the speaker’s face.

“ That won’t do,” he said.

“ You have my word. If you want further
proof open my shirt and look ata wound. Home ,
enemy of the Mixed Riders shot me down at
the head of the Moccasin trail.“

“ When?”

“ Ten nights ago. I was in the midst of the
Riders. I guess the assassin mistook me for'our
chieftain.”

Sam Thatcher glanced at young Nesbit and
smiled meaningly.

“ Look a here ’ he said, turning suddenlyu on

\Vhat Illlgl‘lt yourn

the Creole. “ I hinder b’iieve your story, on so

we’ll talm you with us. I kin take you on my
horse; he‘ll carry double, an’ we’ll go up to Fort
King—mebhe."

As he finished. and without waiting for young
Jardin to put in aremonstrance. which rom
hisélooks he intended to do, he vaulted into the
sari e and leaned over for the planter.

He had touched his shoulder when a bullet
cuts. branch over his head and caused the trio
to look u .

A num r of Indians well mounted were rid .
ing slowly forward, and Crossfire recognized
their leader as he threw a quick look at Ncshit.

“ Run, boy! follow me!“ he cried, and jerking
the con‘valescing Creole from the ground, he
wheeled his steed and dashed off. But as he exe~
cured the latter movement, a. solitary rifle
cracked and the plantar slid from Crossflre’s
horse to the ground. _

“ Cuss you, Morello. I’ll pay you for that shot’
afore I shut my eyes!” said the trailer, as a
twitch of pain quivered his lip. “ My aim isn’t
broken' but I guess thar’s a iece 0’ lead some-
whar nigh the bone. Stop, rank. they’re not
follerin’ us now.”

The trailer and the boy drew rein and lis-
tened. They had retreated around a hammock

w. . _
r o
i-

 

‘ 5

Old Croufire’s Crisil.

 

which hid the ruins of the cabin and its imme-
diate surroundings from sight, and not a. hostile
Bound reached their ears.

" Come," said Crossfire, after along silenco.
" We’re goin’ b ck.”

“What for?“

“ I want to shoot the man who put a bullet in
my‘ arm,” he said, vengefully.

he youth did not reply, and they retraced
their steps with great caution.

The fire was burning low, but the twain were
enabled to see dark forms near the spot where
the cabin had stood. They were grouped, evi-
dently listenin to the stor of somebody who
was s aking s owly and wit French accent.

“ ow hold the horses, boy. I’ll come back in
a minute. I kin shoot from that fallen tree, I
think. Get up an' be ready to ride like light-
ning or to jump down, an’ take to the swamps
if it must be so.”

Old Crossfire left the youth seated on one of
the strong blacks while he glided toward a pros-
trate tree the large leaves of which were still
green and succulent. Young Nesbit saw his
burly form lose itself among them and waited
for the rifle—shot. ,

It was Morelio whom Crossfire sought—the
chief whose trail he had followed for many days
—whose life somebody had repeatedly saved
when his hand touchs l the trig‘ er, ready to
drive‘tbe fatal bullet home. Now 9 felt that
the hunted Rider was in his power. True, his
braves were aroundhim; but the strange pre-
server was not near, and the traveler was ex-
ultant.

The reader can imagine how impatiently the
youth, seated in the saddle, ready to fly. waited
for the report. With his eyes fixed on the tree-
top outlined against the flickering 1i ht that
sprung from the giant coals, he almost eld his

reath.

Sudden] the wished-for sound came, sharp
and cap-1i a.

It was the crack of Crossfire’s rifle.

A shrill yell followed, and the youth heard an
:jaculation of triumph and his friend’s hurrying

est.

Aha! he thou t: Crossfire had killed the
famous chief of t e Mixed Riders at last!

That thought sent a thrill through his entire
frame, and he was imagining that he coull see
the trailer’s form very near when a. pistol ex-
ploded not ten feet distant. Frank Nesbit quiv-
ered, the reins drop from his hands, and
with a groan he fel forward. his arms encir-
clip the neck of the black horse.

T e steed sprung from its companion with a.
wild snort of aflright, and dashed away through
the forest. . /

_ Frank Nesbit lay on his broad, strong neck
like a. dead man!

He did not hear the cries and shouts that fol-

, lowed his strange departure. nor did he see
' Crossfire struggling with clubbed rifle like a
demon in the midst of a dozen foes.

By and by the horse struck the road I have so
often mentioned. but a great owl, darting across
his face. turned him into the forest again.

He could not shake his unconscious rider ofl,
sad it was the smell of blood, trickling down

1.

i .

neck, that fired his spirit, and urged him on.

o 1'.
'1
i

 

CHAPTER XI.
ON THE EVE or EXECUTION.

“,I WONDER what they are going to do with
us?‘

“ They are going
am sure of that. do not expect a rescue. or
myself, I do not ask one. He is dead; the 11
of awhite man has reached his heart, and the
sin of his sudden taking oilr‘ lies at my door. "

“ Maumee, do not talk thus!”

“ I must. Yes, I drove him into the ranks of
your lovar’s band. and [am responsible for his
death. He loved me; he proved this with his
blood.” >

“ He was brave. Witness his conflict with
the Indians when they swooped like night—hawks
down upon his home. Maumec, some terrible
death is in store for us this night. Osceola, too
chivalrous to strike, has given us over to the
tender mercies of his band. He had romissd
them that they should dis )se of us w an cap-
tured and as the king of t e Seminoles he must
keep his word inviolate.”

“ They are halting now. Are we to die here?”

“ I suppose so. Isn’t this a beautiful place.
Maumee? There is but one other place where I
would choose to die."

“ And that, Maggie, is—-“

“ On mother’s grave. ”

“ But we are not choosers," answered Mau-
moe, with a faint smile. “ Death in robes of
beauty seems to reign here. The very ni ht-
birds are silent. and the stars are the lamps 53M:
light 11 this silvan court.” ‘

A ta Indian approached the'girls while Mau-
mee was speaking, and when she had finished
assisted them to alight.

“ Pretty place,” he said, for understanding
some English, he had caught the purport of
their words. “Birds all asleep; but the snake
awake.”

“We are to die here?” said Maggie, looking
into his swarthy face.

“ Pale girls die here," he responded. _

“ By fire?"

“ No, too pretty to burn. Osceola said ‘ kill
girls without pain,’ Cahonchie kill ’em with
the knife. One blow and they step on the long
trail. Cahoochie never strike twice.”

Maumee looked up and saw a giant Indian
near by examining the long blade of a knife in
the light of the stars that stole with soft radi-
ance through the interstices of the branches.

Then the tall Indian left them and the party
held a brief consultation. The council proved
inharmonious. A minority wanted to disobey
Osceola and torture the beautiful captives, who
had dealt death and destruction to their tribe
with unsparing hands: but the majority led by
Kalirlo overruled them with sternness and they
submitted with poor grace. v

Pgeparations for the execution were at once
ma e.

Cahoochie the appointed slayer sharpened his
knife. drawing 1t repeatedly across his thumb
during the operation, and at length announced
his readiness to carry out the flat of the band. “

He removed every article of clothing from "
his body save a breech-cloth. and thus  4
for his bloody work, advanced upon the git

to put us out of the waygI

/
F
l

 

om’ Croslflre’s Crisis.

 

They were clasped in each other’s arms and
this savage, ready as he was to drive the knife
to their hearts, could not rudely separate them.

“Girls praying to Great S irit” he said,
t fining to Kalido. “ Shall Ca oochie wait till
tie] get through l”

‘ ‘The stars will soon grow dim. We must
meet Osceola at the cypress ford,” Kalido an-
swered, and Cahoochie advanced again.

He touched Maggie’s arm and it was a beauti-
fully calm face that turned to him. Indian
that he was, he thought it the face of a spirit

mg.

But he must do his duty.

“Time come i” he said, hiding the knife be-
hind him. “Pale girls ready?’

“ We are ready,” answered the girl, and the
pair faced the executioner and his confreres, who
stood a few feet away silent and deeply-interes—
ted spectators.

The sava o looked at them undecided which
to slay first mt at last as an ejaculation of im-
patience fell from Kalido’s lips he started to-
ward Maggie. J ‘

His lips were compressed as he raised the
knife; but all at once he lowered it and turned
to the band.

A ho so was advancing toward them.

Kali 0 had heard the sound, and was motion-
ing Cahoochie to withhold the hand of execu—
tion yet a little while.

The measured tread of the animal nonpluSed
the Seminoles, and the girls, mystified as well,
gazed into each other’s e es.

All at once a comman caused the Indians to
drop to the ground, and as Cahoochie obeyed he
drew the captives with him. The clicking of
riflerlocks beneath blankets was indistinctlyd
heard, and the shining blades of more than one

7 knife glittered as it was drawn from the belt.

Unconscious of danger thehorse and his rider,
if he had one. came on straight into the net
which had been hastily spread, and presently
not ten feet from the dark forms be halted and
began to snuff the air about him.

At that. m ment Cnhoochie sprung at the
dangling rein and with a snort. the animal
Started hack on his haunches. But other In-
dians leaped to the rescue and the horse found
himself a. captive.

But the rider? He lay on the bloody neck of
the beast like a corpse, and as one savage un-
locked his hands, another jerked him 03. He
fell to the ground. but moved. and the astonish-
ed ,lndians gathered about him.

Then it was seen that the youth Frank Neshit
was alive. and excla mat-ions of joy were heard
on every side. Perhaps they recognized him as
a companion of theimplacahle foe of their race,
and cronsequently their enemy also. And he was

i ve

The Great 8 irit had guided him into their
hands. and he 5 cold not escape.

' “White boy’s face bloody. What make it?"
‘, asked Kalirlo. . -
‘ “ An Indian shot me; but he shot in the dark,”
was the feeble reply.
' “Where big trailer!”
“ I don’t know.”

 

Z\,“ BM. pals boy know the W9 white girls
new. ' , - .

‘ Frank Nesbit turned quickly and for the first
time his eyes fell upon the beautiful ca tives.

Impulsively he started forward an held out
his hands.

“ Maggie, thank Heaven that I have found
you. I have deemed you dead; but we meet on
earth again.” -

“Yes, but on the threshold of death. The
knife was raised over us when you came.”

“They will not kill you?”

“They will, and you, no doubt, will die with

us, and on this spot.

“Gladly will do so, knowin that the old
love still burns in your heart. aggie, where
is the ring? Did the red fiends tear it from

your finger." v

He glanced at her hand as he spoke imd for
the first time the girl’s lips trembled.

“Let us not talk about that now,” she laid,
with an effort. “In the presence of death we
should think of the future.”

“ But, tell me, Maggie Grant, that on love
me," he cried. “Long ago you tol me 90.
Repeat your words and I will sava your life.”

‘ You 1" said the girl, with a smile. “ A cap.
tive like ourselves!”

“They dare not touch me. They shall not
touch youl" he cried.

Startled at his words, the girl was about to
reply when Cahoochie whirled the outh about,
and once more with glittering kni e stepped to
the task interrupted by the arrival of the

y. .

“ Here, you shall not kill them!” cried the
youth, stepping before the giant executioner.
and to the girls he whispered: “If I cannot
save you, we can at least die together.”

cries of rage burst from the throats of the
Indigns, and, knife-armed, they sprung for-
war ._ '

Nearer the devoted girls Frank Neshit drew. l
and when he felt the hot breaths of his foes on
his cheeks, and saw the gleaming knives very
near his skin, he thrust his hand into his bosom
and drew forth a beautiful Spanish scarf of
quaint design and elegant workmanship! r

This he held before their faCes, and as if by
magic every knierm dropped, and the savages
started bac with awe and fear depicted on their
countenances.

It was the silken scarf of Gupta, the lost child =
of Micanopyl

CHAPTER XII.
OLD onossman AND THE RIDERS.

WHILE Frank Neshit is daunting the scarf of
the Seminole princess into the faces of the In-
dians. and for the rroment ralyzing their
angry pamions with mingled ear and awe, let
us return to the old trailer—to the vicinity of
the burned cabin.
' From the tree-to he saw the man whose trail
he had followed or many days and nights-T
Morello, the chief of the Mixed Riders. His
handsome faoe- stran ly marked by Castilian ‘
features was bathed n the ruddy glow of the

fire, and he stood erect with arms folded on his - ‘ ’

bosom a fair mark for the bullet of his pale-
faced enemy. " 7 . . 1

Pascal Jardin. still weak and breathing berth. '
sat at the tom! 9 magnolia. tree. and a supper

a

 

Old Croaeflre’s Crisis.

 

of Indians and negroes had gathered about him
in sitting postures. Morello was the only one
of the party standing erect.

Sam Thatcher muttered some words which
sounded very like “I’ve got him now!” when
his eyes fell upon this scene, and he rested his
rifle on a strong limb. ’

“ I’ll take ’im just over the left eye, I guess,"
he said, letting his bond drop to one side until
his cheek touched the rifle-stock, and then his
keen sight shot along the trusty barrel.

A moment of silence followed, and the sharp
report of the scout’s rifle quivered the night at-
mosphere.

Then came a. wild shriek; the chief of the
Mixed Riders throw both hands to his head, and
staggered back. to be caught by his braves and
lowered to the ground.

“\By Tampa! I’ve finished ’iml” exclaimed the
trailer, leaping from the branches. “The rest
won’t be hard to deal with now. He won't kill
any more Bertie VVilsons." '

He was hurrying toward the spot where he
had left young Nesbit and the horses, when a
flashdand the report of a pistol brought him to a
stan . ‘

Then he heard the steeds dash away, and dis-
covered that his foes were hard upon him. The
pistol’s flash revealed the marksman, a savage-—
not a. Mixed Rider, but a Red Stick. He sprung
forward as the weapon cracked. and seized the
bridle of the trailer’s horse. The next moment
he had vaulted into the saddle and was one in
the twinkling of an eye. Though T atcher
could not see the latter action. certain sounds
told him that it had taken place, and he was
still undecided concerning his own movements.
Eben a heavy body suddenly fell against .

1m. \

There was no resisting the weight; he went to
the earth beneath it, but a moment later had
freed himself of the living incubus. He was
struck with a fist as he sprung to his feet. and
then began a struggle for life. It was a fight in
darkness, 1 might so ,for the stars shed poor
light on the scene, am the combatants did not
look like human beings.

Old Crossfire’s clubbed rifle for a while he t
his foes at respectful distance, but when a dar .
Banther-like form leaped up from the earth at

is very’feet and clung to his right arm like that
beast, he was overpowered and securely bound.

Then he discovered that his assailants. six in
number, had escaped with but few slight bruises.
They had kept beyond reach of the swinging rifle,
preferring to accomplish by strategy that which
fihey. could not do with numbers and escape un-

urt. ’

Theca tive was conducted to the tree where
Pascal ardin still reclined and his eyes fell
upon the motionless form of orello.

There was clotted blood on the left temple,
and the rigidity of stern death had already
touched the handsome features.

Old Crossfire felt a triumph that smacked of
the devil as he gazed upon the chief, and when
he looked at the Creole the youth was giving
him a smile which he could not analyze.

guess he is dead.” young J ardin said.
glancing at Moreno. “ You shot from the tree-

 

I,

» top, I Happens?”

“ Yes, and I shot well, too,” answered the
trailer. “ I never miss a man at fifty yards.”

The last word was still on his lips when a
young Indian appeared, leading four horses by
the bridles. -

Three of the strange Riders—two Seminoles
and one giant maroon—now walked to the
horses and held a low conversation at the
groupml heads.

Presently they separated. and the maroon led
Old Crossfire to one of the steeds and assisted
him to mount.

He asked no questions, but obeyed every com~
mand with commendable alacrity.

He knew that something terrible was going to
happen; he saw that in his captors’ eyes.

“ Good-Ly," said Pascal Jardin, looking up at
the scout as the trio threw themselves upon
their horses.

Crossfire smiled.

“ Do you think we will never meet again?” he
asked,

“ I know we never will,” said the Creole.

“ I hope we may,” replied Thatcher. “ But I
guess I’m ready to go. I‘d like to see Tige and
the boy ag’in. I guess some red devil has killed
my old do . fur I hevn’t seen him for nigh onto
a week. ’ve settled accounts with Morello;
he and Sam Thatcher hev squared accounts fur-
over.

At thls juncture one of the Indians took the
reins of the Scout’s horse and nodded to his com-
panions.

The animals moved. away at a funeral pace.

“ Good-by. white man.” said Thatcher. turn-
ing his head for a last glimpse. “ Git out o’ the
company you’re in now. t’s Sam Thatcher’s
last advice." .

The Creole did not reply; but waved his hand
in a gesture of farewell and then slowly regained
his feet. ' ‘

One by one the horses of the separating party
disap ared, and at last the sound of boots was
no 1 nger heard. Morello was lifted from the
ground and placed across a saddle. and Pascal

ardin was helped to a seat on horseback. Then
the remainder of the Mixed Rid s proreeded in
a direction contrary to the one fiaveled by the
scout‘s guard, and the scene of tragic actions
was deserted.

\

Five persons stand on the bank of a beautiful
Florida river, near the mouth of a quiet tribu—
tary. The skin of one is almost white; the skin
of another denotes him a half-breed; the others
consist of two norm and one Indian.

They are evidently awaiting the arrival of
a second party. for every sound that salutes
their ears causesthem to turn their faces toward
the south.

All at once a noise that cannot bemistaken
startles the horses belonging to the party. and
they prick up their ears and whinny joyously.
The men have heard the sound. and instantl
every one is on tiptoe of expectation.

The sounds caused by horses’ feet grow more
distinct, and at last three dark objects are seen
coming up the river’s hank. i'l‘hey grow into -
steeds, and a rider for each becomes visible - ‘

The group of men start forward and the rider: ‘

\

 

Old Crossfire's Crisis.

 

’ halt. Two maroons and one. Indian spring to
the onnd, and are plied with questions.

“ here is the pole-face?”

“Ask the Indians God. If you would find
“him, step upon the trail that leads to the caves
of the had spirits. He will break the twigs of
the everglmles no more; he has slept his last
sleep beneath the golden apple tree. He has
killed his last Rider.”

The ucstioners are satisfied.

Sadd es are filled again, and eight persons ride
away.
The alligator lifts his head from the water
and is not disturbed.
What has become of Old Crossfire?
, \

CHAPTER XIII.
SHAWL AND LASSO.

THE reader will recollect the parting be-
tween Frank Nesbit, the young scout, and
Capta. the beautiful red inmate of the hut in
the hummock.

Upon that occasion. she gave him the Spanish
scarf which he flaunted in the faces of the Red
Sticks as he sprung between them and their
girlish victims.

Capta’s arting words run in his ears:

“ They r are not touch the ad that holds up
the shining scarf.”

He but half-believed this; yet he had assured
the girls that he could save them from the
torture of the knife—blow or the thud of the
tomahawk. '

The savages started back as though a. thun-
derbolt had dropped at their feet. when they
beheld the strange talisman. They looked into
aficlg other’s faces as if to say, what means
t is.

Where did he get the princess’s scarf ?

There he stood before the‘astonished girls,
gazing at the savages, and smiling at their con-
sternation. I

Hawago, the painted leader of the band,
broke the silence. He stepped forward as his
lips parted.

, “The young ‘white' chief wears the pretty
‘ shawl of Captor.” he said. “ The Seminole dares
not touch it with avenging hands. Where did
he get it?”
fl “I] will not Rtell the red chief,” said the youth,

rm y. 1

“Does he know where Micanopy’s child is?
The old chief has missed her long, and he will
make the white boy a sachem if he will trail the
girl for Hawago." ,

The youth smiled derisively.

“ I know not where the lost rincoss is now,"
he said. “ I have her scarf, an you dare not
touch me or anything it shields. I know this;
so does Hawago. The Great S irit of the Semi-
noles has decreed that the han that touches it
vengefully will shrink away and become as a
withered eat. But I will not multiply words.
Hawago is a great chief; he must respect the

, flaming shawl.”
" He does respect it!” said the chief, quickly.
' gage kggw ,Caspta when she was a appoiisebgn
. mowers roast/What does t e pee y

' ,,

 

Frank Nesbit allowed a triumphant smile to
flit over his face, and whis ered words of en-
couragement to the beautifu captives.

“ The lost girl’s shawl protects the white cap-
tives," he said. “ They must be set at liberty l”

A murmur of dissatisfaction ran from lip to '
lip. and Hawago slowly shook his tufted head.

“ They are my sisters,” continued Nesbit,
“ and they must go free!”

Without replying Hawago turned to his war-
riors whom he addressed in a low whisper.

“ They will not accede to your demand,”
Maggie Grant whispered to the youth. “ They
are concocting some cunning scheme now.” ,

“ I scarcely hoped for sum ass," he answered.
“ I have surprised myself. The Seminole l 5
long regarded this scarf with superstitio s
veneration: he would not touch it for the world.
I heard of it before the war began. Were
Osceola here, I am sure that we would be set at
liberty at once. It is the Indians’ zeal to obey
the great chief that makes them hesitate and
hold a council now." _

“ Hawago is gaining some point,” said
Maumee glancing at the savages whose lrm-
gnage she could but imperfectly understand.
“ Once free the shall never catch us again.”

“No,” said esbit, “never again!”

The Indian council terminated abruptly.
Hawago shot his teeth behind a brief sentence,
and turned to the fearful trio.

“Where does the white boy and his sisters
want to go?" he asked.

“ Look out, there’s base treachery in the
wind," whispered Maggie Grant before the
youth could reply.

“ I will,” he whispered in return, and then
looked at the chief.

“ I wish to be left here. When the trend of
the Seminoles dies away in the woods, I will go.
I will cross the red-man’s trail never again.
Now that I have found my sisters, I will lift my
arm against the Seminole no more.”

“ Will he tell Hawago where Capta is?" asked
the chief eagerly.”

“ I do not know. I say. I saw her in a cabin
in the forest: she is not there now.”

“ The trail that leads to Fort King is not far
away. It crosses the river just beyond the
openin which Hawago can almost see from
here. ‘e will conduct the white boy and his
sisters to the trail, then he will turn his face
from them. What does he sav to this!" ‘

Frank Nesbit hesitated. He wanted to take
the girls to Fort King, and he might not be able
to find the trail if left alone where he stood.
He was debatin a mental question with the
eyes of every In ian fastened upon him, When
he heard Maggie Grant’s voice at his shoulder.

“When Hawago turned to talk there were
twelve Indians, there are but ten now.”

He started, but did, not exhibit any emotion
to his foes.

“’lhat desertinn implies treachery,” said the
second girl. “ Let us remain here. I can find
the Fort King trail.”

The boy scout then spoke to the chief.

“ We will remain here." '

Bawago seemed dlsa pointed.

“ You may not find 1; e trail."

“ We may not want it.”

 

$4

on Crossfire’s Crisis. ‘

 

“ Then stay here. white boy!” cried the In-
dian exhibiting his old anger. “ Cross not
Hawago’s path again. He will not spare for
the shawl of Cuptu. Osceola may cleave his
head for sparing to-night.”

Then he spoke‘to his braves, and they vaulted
upon the backs of their steeds.

“Pale-faces. good-by,” said the chief. “It is
along trail that leads to the soldiers’ fort. It
bristles with knives and arrows.” -

He spoke with a malignance that caused the
girls to shudder.

The next minute he was riding away with his
head turned from the trio.

Without uttering a word, they listened to the
flying hoot-sounds which. at last they could not

ear.

The stillness of the forest was about them, and
fearing as it seemed to disturb it, they stood
there, moving not.

They were completely unarmed; and this des-
titution of weapons was well calculated to breed
alarm. With the fate of Old Crossfire enveloped
in mystery, Frank Nesbit and the girls were
wondering why somebody did not come.

“ Why do we stand here?” suddenly asked
Maumee. .

The youth started and turned upon them.

“Yes,’why?” he said. “This IS an hour for
action. We must 0. I care not for the Fort
King trail now. believe the miscreants who
have just left us will watch it. The stream of
which Hawago spoke must be near.”

“ It is,” answered Maggie Grant. “ The cy-
press ford cannot be four miles away, and but

we miles beyond the ford a company of soldiers
are encam d.“

“The so diers so near?" exclaimed N esbit.

“ We saw them yesterday."

“ We will go to the ford, then,” he said.
“ Maggie, do you know the way?” x

“I can lead you there.”

“Thank Heaven! We will soon be out of this
wilderness.

Then in silence and amid much caution the
.march for the cypress ford was taken u .

The rising moon showered her tropical light
down through the branches, and covered much
of the forest with a silvery sheen. 1t enabled
the trio to avoid the fallen trees and other
places that might hurl them into danger; but
theykfiept in the darkened place as much as
possi 9.

Frank Nesbit walked beside the widow’s
daughter, with whom he conversed in cautious
whispers.

‘ Maumee regarded them curiously, and sighed
more than once as she turned her head away.

Then journey through the forest was neces-
sarily slow, and not until two hours had elapsed
did they reach the vicinity of the cypress ford.

" The ford may be guarded,” said the youth,
when the shimmering water burst upon his
Vismn. .’

“We have crossed it often," replied Maggie
Grant. “ We have never been disturbed here.

But the young scout concluded to examine the .

crossing, and leaving the girls where they had
stopped. he went forward.
. The stream was a tributary of the pretentious

'  whim Withhwoche, end a huge cypress, some unseen person smug have '

 

that leaned over the .ford had furnishodthe
name of the spot. ‘

The tree shaded the ford completely. and the
river as well for some distance below. And
silence also was a tenant of the spot. for the pel-
lucid stream did not celebrate its movement
with the faintest semblance of a song. Thus it
bird gained the repulsive title of the Dead
. 1ver. r

The long, hanging boughs of the cypress al-
most touched the water in the center of the
stream, and while the youth stood on the fringed
bank he fancied that they moved.

There was no wind to stir them at that hour,
and he was C ions to satisfy his mind. He
stepped into t 0 Water and moved toward the
S .
pglis wading emitted no sounds.

He could not distinguish objects above him;
but he could see the hanging branches between
him and the sky.

Therefore, he did not see the dark figures in
the tree over his head. He did not note the ad-
justing of a lariat, and when he paused it was to
turn back to the two girls. >

But at that moment something struck his
shoulders.

He started to throw up his hands to tear of!
the fatal coil. for he instantly comprehended
that a lariat was about him.

But in vain, for his arms’ were suddenly
pinioned to his side, and be was jerked from the
dead water—up into the darkness of the 0 press.

His ascent occupied but amoment 0 time.
A hand uddeuly closed on his arm. and the
scarf of Micanopy' daughter was watched from
his bosom. ‘

“Shawl save pale boy no more " said a voice
in the unmistakable tones of the indian. “He
pull out of the water like a fish.“

A low chuckle, from another person who had
not spoken greeted the sentence. and, his
eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness, the
goygcout saw a knife clinched in a dark-red

an .

He thought of the girls in the wood waitin
for his return, but he could not make u b s
mindw signal them and apprise them 0 the
melancholy results of his reconnoissance.

CHAPTER XIV.
oscsou.

Banana the boughs of a youn magnolia
whose white blossoms made the air olent with»
perfume, the two girls awaited Frank Nesbit’s
return. The're came ,no sounds from the
and no footstep saluted their ears. '

“ I wonder what keeps him?” whispered Mau-
mee. “ The ford is near; he could have—"

her cousin’s arm.
Rho twiii: listened. hm b t m
stea t v ste was approac ; u w
they listened it sntddenly ceased. g
A ray of moonlight suddenly lighted the spot
where the girls stood, and with.ch bands
they moved back into the gloom.

The silence was oppressive; they felt 

ford .
D ..

“ 'Shl” and the hand of Maggie Grant touched 3.1 .

. .

 

Old Crossfire’s Crisis.

 

them—watching them for “death-shot or for
ca tivity.

0 sound from the ford. Where was the
youth!

“ Something has happened to him,” said Mag—

ie Grant, in the lowest of voices. “ We ust
eave this spot, come captivity or death. fter
all. he may not have seen us. ’

She meant the producer of the noise that had
startled them.

" Shall we leave him?”

“Yes. If he is in trouble, Maumee, we dare
not aid him. He may have met foes at the fort.
We owe him much; he has saved our lives: but
after all this, I could not 've him—my hand.”

Maumee looked reproac fully in the speaker’s
face. and then said: '

“ Let us go.” ,

They turned, but had not inaugurated a flight
when a twig snapped, and there was a step be-
hind them.

Turning quickly toward the ford again to
divine the cause of the startling noise, they be
held an Indian standing in the moonlight. He
seemed a statue, so motionless he stood with his
arms folded upon his breast and his eyes fixed
intent] upon them. No weapons were visible
about 111' but the heron-feathers that formed
his head-dress proclaimed his rank and his

name.

A glance at the motionless figure and the girls
looked into each other’s face.

“ Osceola i" murmured Maggie Grant, and her
companion nodded assent.

The name of the great chief of the Seminoles
still uivered the girl’s lips when the statue
mov and came directly toward the pair.

h.“ ¢(ijomew said Maumee, seizing her cousin’s

n .

“No, we cannot escape now he is too near,”
was the reply, and almost breathless they waited
*for the Firebrand of the Everglades.

He came forward quickly, and a puzzled ex-
presslon was on his face.

“ White irls get away from Hawago?" he
said, but f interrogatively. “Osceola never
expected to see them alive w en he left them in
the hammock. What are they doing here?”

“ We are fleeinsvfrom our foes,” answered
Maggie, firmly. “ e have escaped from Ha-
wago. Do not ask us how."

w “ Osceola will not question white girls. He
. came to the oytpress to meet Hawago when the
darkness flies om the forest. He could kill the

girls who have trailed him long;] but he never

struck a rson with long hair. e blue-coated
'. soldiers not him like a wolf: he knows not
' where to run, for they are always on his trail.
' He wages is useless war; but he will never rest
. his arm while it can stnke the men who would
1:. drive him beyond the great river to a land
ple die like curs. Where would the

. hits rl go!"

“We were going up the ford where the mag-
nolia: are,” answered one ,of the girls.

.“ Then com ” said the chief.

'Stsrtled at words and demeanor. and

* ~' into each other’se in uirin l , the
k  forward guidzdfsbyhe chgie’r, the
'v be of their race. '
'ehdtgmthroughthofmt until theybe-

v

 

held the shimmering waters of the little stream
again.

A pair of magnolias growing side by side had
given name to the ford that lay before them,
and the stars told them that the night was far
advanced, and that the glimnierings of dawn
wood soon illumine the horizon.

“ White girls never see Osceola again,” the
chief said, looking sadly into their eyes. “They
know now that he never strikes women—they
can tell their people that the stories about wom—
en’s blood on his tomuhawk are lies. Beyond‘ihis
water,” and the chief stretched forth his hand,
“lies the trail that leads to the white man‘s
fort. You will go to it, and you will tell the
general there that Osceola will not be the first
talk of peace. He was at Dade’s bloody ground,
he struck the soldiers there, he has scalped the
big soldier, Thompson, and he is proud of it.
Now the pale girls must go, for Osceola must
meet Hawago at the cypress ford.”

He put forth his hands, and for the first time
in their lives the girl avengers touched the skin
of the Seminole sachem.

They sympathized with him, who was but
struggling for the land of his nativity, for the
beautiful spot of his childhood against a nation
young in years but a giant in strength.

Vain struggle it was, but how heroic!

The Seminole war is but the history of oppres-
sion unsuccessfully resisted. The foot of the
Government was on the Indian’s neck, and he
could not rise until it was removed. And when
it was removed that he might stand erect, chains
Were on his strong limbs, and his manhood had
been taken away.

I say the two girls pitied the hunted chief,
whom they had trailed with ready rifle.

Emotion was overcoming him. and, when in
silence he pointed for the second tifne across the’
river, his arm trembled. He wanted the twain
to depart.

They turned and ste ped into the water. 0s-
ceola watched them, is arms folded, and his
countenance thoughtful.

They were in the center of the stream when
the crack of a rifle broke the refound calm,
and a wild cry like a death-shrie followed.

1 I; came from the neighborhood of the cypress
or .

The twain stopped and looked at Osceola.

He was listening, having, like them, been
startled by the shot.

He saw them and motioned them away.

“Go!” they heard him say, and then he turn-
ed abruptly on his heel.

The stream was soon forded and the cousins
were in the wood on the right bank.

“ I cannot leave him now,” said Maggie
Grant. “ That shot, that cry so full of mystery,
must be solved. Listen! there are cries, shouts
at the cypress ford! Blood is bein shed down
there, and, Maumee, it may be t e blood of
thosa we love.”

“ Then come!” said Maumee. “ The wood is
dense this side of the ford. We will go down.
Would to heaven that our rifles were here!”

The absence of weapons was truly deplorable;
but the avengers could not he ke‘pt back.
battle was re mg in the cypress for ; and
in hand they ostened thither.

 

Old Crossfire'l’ Crisis.

 

CHAPTER XV.

TEE FIGHT AT THE FORD.

'l‘im reader will rccollect that during Frank
Nesliit’s parley with Hawago, two Indians
secretly but not unobserved left the Red Stick
baud.

Their departure was noticed by Maggie Grant,
who warned the youth.

These two savages proceeded to the cypress
ford, and hid themselves in the tree. The hands
of one grasped a strong lariat, and tho crimson
finger.» toyed eagerly with the. easy noose. They
conversod in low whispers listening the while
for a sound. .

At last voices I'B'lCllOd their ears, the voices of
three persons in conversation. The Indians ex—
changed ejaculutions of satisfaction, and said

no:

“ The pale-faces come,"and the lasso was for
the twentieth time adjusted.

By and by a footsto p approached the ford, and
the fiery eyes looking dawn through the branches
‘sawa outh enter the stream. He proceeded
tower the opposite bank cautiously; but paused
in the center of the stream, as if a suspicious
sound had fallen upon his cars.

A moment later the lariut descended, and the
youth was jerked from the water up into the
tree. .4' -

The Indians chuckled devilishly over‘ their
success, and, with their captive, began
descend. V

Frank Nesbit. for he was the prisoner. felt
himself, unarmed as he was, in a perilous situa-
tion. The savages were bent on destro iug
him; but they would first find the girls wmm
they knew to be with him. To their questions
concerning the fair avengers’ whereabouts, he
returned evqsivo replies, and talked in a loud
tone hoping that it might prove a warning to
his friends. . r ‘

At the foot of the cypress one of the Indians
left the captive with is companion, while he
scoured the woods for the white girls. But the
birds had flown, and, dispiritedpnd angry, the
savage returned. .

“ Girls gone i” he said darting a fierce look at
the youth.

“ Thank Heaven!” ejaculated Nesbit. “ Their
ptlér?”b100d will not redden eyour accursed
s e . .

The Indian sprung upon the outh with lit-
tering knife; but the arm of t a second ed
Stick interfered. .

“ The captive must die before Hawagol” said
{18. The chief is to meet Osceola. here ere

ong.

But the blood of the maddened Indian could
not be cooled by words; and his comrade drew
‘ his knife to rotect the boy.

“Cutm . ends and give me a knife!" cried
F_rank 100 mg up at his protector. “I’ll fight
in? on an equal ty, and continue your captive

wm. -

But the Indian shook his head. He was not
E91113 to trust the youpg scout with a knife in

ishands. I ,

Like maddean tigers. the two braves faced
. each other, neither willing to yield a single

:— . ,,

 

It was a tableau seldom witnessed in the land
of the everglades. '

“ Give me the boy!” suddenly cried the brave 
who had larintoil the scout.

“ He shall die before Hawagol” was the un—
co’mpromisiu r reply.

Again the 'nife was raised; but steel as firm
and as true encountered it. '

All at once there was a sound in the forest.

The knives were lowered.

. “ Hnwago!” ejaculated one of the pair, but
the other said:

“ Morello comes 1”

The next moment the report of a rifle emanat—
ing from the bosom of the river, cleft the air,
and one of the contending braves dropped his
knife and started back with a groan.

d Adfew feet from the foot of the cypress he fell
on .

The remaining Indian with his captive turned
to the stream and saw a boat shoot across a
streak of moonlight toward the bank. In the
center of the boat a girlish figure seemed to be,
loadiu a rifle.

The ndian started and raised his own weapon;
but before he could sight the slayer the boat was
in the shadows and no longer visible.

“Come!” he cried, grasping the young cap—
tive’s hand.

The boy was reluctant to flee: he felt that
friends were at hand, and the Indian was about
to drag him elf by main strength when a num-
ber of ndians sprung to the scene.

TheI captor gave a Joyous yell. Hawago had
come

He seized Frank Neshit and drew him toward
him with fiendish glee. ' »

‘ “Pratt shawl not save white boy now I” he
said. “ a never get away from Hawago again.
Where pale girls?”

“ Safe!” cried the boy.
them.” ,

The chief uttered a. cry of rage, and the ejacu-
lations of disappointment that
dian lips were suddenly drownai by the' reports. ‘ ,
of half a dozen rifles and the furious charge of a '
mounted foe. »

Hawago turned,.sorely wounded, upon the, at- .,
tacking party .and his men poured a volley into.
their ranks. The dark faces of several maroon:
were visible in the terrible conflict that followed 5‘
a; the ford, and the six swept everything before '
t em. . ' '

The Indians recognizing their foes, fought like, -
demons, and all at once a tall fig-u '
frglm the river-bank and threw himsell into the .
m as. .

He was a handsome man, and his long hai
’and piercing eyes. his daring. and stren ,"
claimed him the master spirit of the em
war—Osceola. '

He- reached the battle-field when Hawogo’s
band had been reduced to three. - « ii ;

But four of the enemy remained, three in
roons and one Indian. and before the chief: .
strike, Hawago, stricken by a bullet fired from;
the bush. fell against the cypress, thence into
river. already stained with gore. '

That shot from the bush startled 03¢
seemedmrecog'niza the crackdthat _,
—‘Copta’s deadly weapon. . ‘ * H

“You‘can never find

.!I‘ y

 

all from his 111- r ‘

' started 111)..

Old Croaaflre’l Crisis.

 

“ No more i” he cried, ringing from the con—
flict. “ Osceola will not ght against her."

He fled before an arm could arrest his pro-
gress, and the sole survivor of his little baud.

Several moments later his voice came from the
depths of the magnolia forest:

‘ Osceola. will never leave the war—trail while
a white man or a Mixed Rider lives! His voice
is still for war! The hand of every man is
against him; his hand against every man i”

In silence the maroons and their red compan-
ion listened to the red king’s words. They knew
that he would keep his faith—«that he would
never submit to the humiliating overtures of the
Government.

The battle was over, and one of the black vic-
tors started toward the sole spectator of the
bloody fray—Frank Nesbit. Bound and lying
near the cypreSS, the young scout had witnessed
the battle.

1_ “THunter’s companion,” said the black. “ Kill
4  ‘
said another maroon, interfering.
in to chief. Mehbe he tell chief about
the pale girls.” ‘

This suggestion found favor with the rest of
the party, and a while later Frank N esbit found
himself conducted from the stream.

The, bodies of the slain were left on the field of
battle, and the victors did not see the dark figure
that crept through the brush upon their trail.

It was the figure of a girl who trailed a rifle
at her side, and her face looked very like the
face of Uapta, Micanopy’s lost child, and the
owner of the talismanic shawl.

She watched the maroons with keen eye. and
kept her finger very near the trigger of her
r1 .

e
A mile from the stream the victors halted, and
a bird-call broke the silence.
The or was answered some distance to the
right, an the band turned aside and crept cau-
tiously forward.

Presently they came to a creek far beneath
Eh; overhanging banks of which they founda

And in the rudd light, shielded from the wa-
ter by several ankets, lay two prominent
characters of our story; .

‘Nith his head bandaged and the fixed look of
early dissolution in his eyes, Morello, the hand-
some chief of the Mixed Riders reclined on a
blanket. Beside him lay Pascal J ardiu, the
Creole, sufl'ering from his burns and wound.

The chief‘s eyes lit up when he saw the maroons
approach, but he sighed when he feeny counted

eir numbers.

Of his terrible band but three remained. .

“ Martha is dying." be said. “ He has fought
his last fight: he— Ha! the white boy!” and at
' sight of Frank Nesbit the Mixed Rider almost
For a moment he stared into the
boy’s face then cried:

‘ Boy, where are the girls?”

‘ “ I do not know."
‘ I :“Morello must see the Hidden Rose before he
as! He loves her: she hasloved him. She has
gelled him through the forest that she might
save-th from therbullet that found his heed at
Jest. Boy, now that he cannot build a house for”

 

her, he ives her to you. She loved you before
she saw orello. Pale boy. she belongs to you."
Morello put forth his cold hand, and Nesbit

grasped 1t.

“"ell the Hidden Rose that Morello kissed
our hand for her cheek before he died,” the
ixed Rider continued. “Listen, boy! The

soldiers have hunted Morello; they hunt him

still. They think that he has struck their eo-
gle. He never struck a pale-face in all his ife.
is hands have been against the Seminoles—y
against Osceola. The white trapper, your friend,
and you have hunted him helievmg that he slew

Bertie Wllsou and the Hidden Rose‘s mother.

The Red Sticks did those deeds. Where is the

bifi‘ hunter?”

he maroons exchanged glances which their
chief saw.

“Have you punished him for shooting Mo-
rello?” be asked.

“ He is punished.”

“ Does he still live? The truthl the truth!
Moreno will have the truth.”

“He may live. We lashed him to a. horse.
Shot the horse in the river and left him alive to
the alligators.”

Frank Nesbit and Pascal Jardin shuddered.

“ He must not die!" said Morello. “ Morello
forgives. Save himl”andhetriedto rise. “Ride
to the river and tear the hunter from the jaws of
the lagoon devils.”

One of the maroons turned, as Morello fell
back with a groan. '

'The planter, despite his pain, sprung to his

de.
The beautiful eyes stared vacantly around for

a moment then settled on Frank Nesbit.

“Love the Hidden Bose,”be said.
Morello—says——" .

A gas , a dropping of the handsome head so
beautlfu ly ornamented by hair that Absalom
would" have coveted, and a bursting of blood
from the mouth!

“ Dead!” ejaculated Pascal J ardin.

But nol the eyes opened again, and the lips

“ Go! save the hunter.” .

Then Morello fell back—dead! His last words
were for the salvation of his slayer. ‘

Few such men as this character of the ever-
glade war have lived.

The maroons turned. ‘

“ He shall be saved!” cried one, and the next
alilinre but two blacks stood over their dead '
c is .

‘ ‘ For—

CHAPTER XVI.
arrnn STORES—CALMS.

IN the middle of one of the numerous alligator
infested rivers of Florida a thrillina‘ occurrence ,
took place one beautiful ni ht in 1836.

The head and shoulder of a man appeared
'ust above. the waters, and all about him could -,y

e seen the repulsive backs and Jaws of the i
Southern saurians. It was evident that the man ,
so completely at the mercy of the alligators had .
been left to perish thus terribly and miserably 
by enemies, for he could not use. Some great ‘
weight seemed to hold him down. ‘ .- ,

 

98

Old Crolsfln’a Crisis. ~

u.-.

 

This weight was the dead bodi of a black horse
whose ears protruded above t 9 water not far
from the victim’s head.

The saurians would approach and retreat much
after the manner of a cat when the mouse is
completely in her power. They seemed to take
a delight in torturing the man with thoughts of
the horrible death to which he was doomed.

He watched the monsters without a word; not
one of their movements escaped him. By and
by they seemed to say: “ Let us put an end to this
truce. Let us devour our victim.”

From all sides they advanced to the repast.
The man could not retreat; his limbs bound to
the dead horse. held him captive. The jaws of
death opened all around him. The monsters
were already snapping at him, and the ears of
the black horse had disappeared when the thun-
dering tramp of boots was heard.

A horse was coming down the bank with the
speed of the windi

The imperiled man ejaculated the name of his
Maker and shouted. He saw a horse on the
bank, and a man whom he took to be an Indian
sat astride of him.

All this for a moment, for the animal leaped
into the river and dashed toward him. ‘Then
the alligators retreated and the rider who was a
black man, leaned over the pale-face with glitter-
ing knife. The blade disappeared beneath the
water.

A moment later the horse’s head was turned to-
ward the'bank again; he bore two riders!

Sam Thatcher was saved!

' One evening a company of soldiers entered
Fort King.

Among them walked Pascal J ardin, Frank
Nesbit and Old Crossfire. .

Within the walls of the fort two beautiful girls
encountered them, and the young scout told one
the story of Morello’s death.

She turned away and he left her .weeping.

“ By Tampa. l” exclaimed Crossfire. “ I follow-
ed the wrong man. He was too good to live for
he forgave me for shooting ’im. If I had been
Morello I’d left Sam Thatcher to the alligators.”

Months rapidly passed away. '

Osceola, basely betrayed, was dying in Fort
Moultrie.

Old Crossfire still hunted the slayers of Bertie
Wilson—the Red Sticks, and Pascal Jardin was
loving Maumee as his wife.

Our youthful hero Frank Nesbit secured the
hand of Maggie Grant, one of the masked night
riders, while Capta, the Indian princess, hearing

> that her permeating lover was dead, returned
to her father.

In END.

 

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' 3,117

BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY. _

..._. q...—

3 Seth Jones: or, The Captives of the Frontier.
By E. S. Ellis.

88 Canada Chet. the Connterteiter Chief. By E. L.
Wheeler.
The Dumb Page; or, The Dnge‘s Daughter. By
Captain Frederick Whittaker.

he Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted Island. By

Edward S. Ellis.

-' Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge
Hem ng. .

87 The ussar Captain: or, The Hermit of Hell
Gate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

88 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange

v Stroke for Liberty. By Edward L. Wheeler.

89 Bill Biddon, Trfizppvr; or, Life in the Northwest.
By Edward S. 115.

90 Tippv. the Texan; or. The Young Champion.
1’3? George Gleason.

91 ustang Spur, the King of the Plains. By Jon.
E. Badger. Jr.

92 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, the Red Pirates of
the Caribbees. 13% Samuel W. Pearce.

98 Phil Hardy. the ass Bo ; or, The Mystery of
the Strogg old. B Char es Morris.

94 Deadwo Dickas etective. By E. L. Wheeler.

95 Buck Buckram; or, Bess the Female Trapper.
By Captain J. F. 0. Adams.

96 Gilt-E ge Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler.

97 fihe Black Steed of the Prairies. By James L.

owen.

98 The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe.

By J uon Lewis

99 Bonanza Bill the Man Tracker; or, the Secret
Twelve. By  L. Wheeler.
. . s.
101 Daring Davv. the Young Bear Killer; or, The
102 The Yellow Chic-t: or. The Halt-Blood‘s Ven-
geance. By Ca 1:. Mayne Reid.
104 The Black Schmmer'. or, Jib Junk, the Old Tar.
ndsome Harry, the Bootblnck Detective. By
Charles Morris.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
10? Jack Hoyle‘s Lead' or, The Road to Fortune.
108 Rec Mountain Kit. the White Mustanger. By
'1‘ C arbauzh.
B Frank Dumont.
110 e Dread Rider; or. The Texan Duelist. By
L. Wéreeler.
113 The eipless Hand. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
118 Scar-Faced Saul, the Silent Hunter. By Oil
be .
115 Degfiwood Dick’s Double: or. The Ghost of Gor-
G loh. By Edward L. Wheeler.
ons. By Capt. F. hittaaer.
ey Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s

100 Nat Todd; _or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive.
By E S Elh
Troll of the Border Wolf. By Harry St. George.
103 Chip. the Girl Sport By Edward L. Wheeler.
1‘3! Roger Starbuck.
105 a
106 Night~Hawk Kit; or. The Daughter of the Ranch.
By Edward L. Whee er.
109 The'Brandvd Band; or, The Man of Mystery.
Geo e W. rowne.
'111 13035301), the King of Bootblacks. By Edward
Coomes.
114 Pine Paul, the Mountain Boy. By T. 0. Har-
" n’s u
r . 110 53136: Coffin. Skippe‘r‘; or, Lost in the Polar Re-
“ Buffalo Bill.”

5 Trust. fiy
1' 118 Will Wl fire. the Thorouzhbred; or, The Win-
' ningfiand. By Chas. Morris.
119 Bionde Bill: or. Deadwood Dick’s Home Base.
‘ - By Edward L. Wheeler.
120’ Gopher Gid, the Boy Trapper. By T. C. Har-

bau h.
z 121 Hargy Armstrong, the Captain of the Club. By
Braoehndge Hemag (Jack Harkawa . r
‘13 The Haunted Hun r- or. The Strange orseman
. of the Prairie By E'd ard s. Ellis.
.181! the Boy Road-Agent. By Edward L.
.0».

color. ’ .
mmummmvmu. 313“

r

 

125 The Land Pirates; or. The League of DOVE.
Island. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

126 Blue Blazes; or The Break 0' Day Boys 01
Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont.

127 Tony Fox, the «rret; or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job.
lay Edward L. Wheeler.

128 ill Wild flro‘s Racer; or, Winning Against Odds.
By Charles Morris.

129 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. By 011 Coomes.

139 Gold 'l‘ri er. the Sport: or, The Girl Avengers.
By T. C. orbaugh.

131 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick‘s Big
Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler.

132 Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport. By Joseph E.

Badger, Jr.
133 Wild-fire, the Boss of the Road. By Frank Du.

mont.
134 Ii‘l‘Iiike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. By Chas. r
orris.
135 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked
Party. By Ed ward 1... Wheeler.
136 Old Rube, the Hunter. By Capt. Hamilton
0 mes.
137 Dandy Rock, the Man from Texas. By G.
al 0 Browne.
138 Bob Rockett. the Boy Dodger. By Chas. Morris.
139 The Black Giant; or. Dainty Lance in Jeopardy.

By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
140 Captain Arizona, the King Pin of Road-Agents.

IBIy Philip S. Warne.

141 ew York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. By E.
L. Wheeler.

142 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. By Oll

Coomes.

143 Dead] Dash; or. Fighting Fire with Fire. By
Jos. . edger, r.

144 Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By Col. Prentiss In-

graham.

145 The Tiger oI'Taos' or, Wild Kate. Dandy Rock’s
Angel. By Geo. Waldo Browne.

146 The Cattle King: or, Cortina’s Right Bower. By
Frank Dumont.

147 Bobby Nick of Nevada; or. the Scamps of the
Sierras. B Edward L. Wheeler.

148 Thunderho t Tom; or, the Welt-Herder o! the
Rockies. By Barry St. George.

149 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. By Charles

Morris.

150 The Mad Miner; or, Dandy Rock's Doom. By
G. Waldo Browne.

151 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Well Kept. By 001.
Prentiss Ingrahhn.

152 Dandy Datgke; or, The Tigers of High Pine. By

, .H. s r.
158 $11M lFryank, the Buckskin Bravo. By E. L. -
9

so r.
154 The Boy Trailers: or. Dainty Lance on the
War-Pa h. .

B Jos.E Bad er, Jr.
1'55 Gold Plume, e Boy Ban it. By CoirPrentisst

Inmham.
156 Will Wildfire in the Woods. By C. Morris.
157 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. By T. 0. Bar-

ha .

15B Delafiwood Dick‘s beam: or Calamity Jane‘s
Last Adventure. By E. L. W eeler.

159 Patent-Leather Joe‘s Defeat; or, The Lady
Road-Agent. By) Philip S. Warne.

100 Buffalo Billy. t 6 Boy Bullwhacktr; or The
Doome Thirteen. By Col. P. ingraham.

161 Bob Beckett the Cracksman. By 0. Morris.

162 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. By on

Coomes.
1m Deadwood Dick‘s Dream: or. the Rivals of the
. a . By E. L. Wheeler. '
l‘nrnado om; or, lnjun Jack from Red Core.
By T. C. Barbi-us .
inflaio Bill‘s Bet: or, The Gambler Guide. By
n . ,

 

am.

' Win; and Loses: 01‘- “A Trump

ar . y area 0

C d" B Ch 1 M rrls.

Rock‘s Hodge; or.Bumd toDeoth. By
Brenna.

I
l

 

BEADLE’S 1’0ch LIBRARY-

!68 Deadwood Dick’s Ward' or, The Black Hills
Jezebel. By Edward L. Wheeler.

169 The Boy Champion. By Edward Willett. .

170 Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life; or, Shadowed in
New York. By Charles Morris.

171 Frank Morton, the Boy Hercules. By 011

Cooxnes.

172 The Yankee Ranger; or, Dusky Darrell. By
Edwin Emerson. '

178 Dick Din le Scout. or, The Frontier Angel. By
Edward . llis.

174 Dandy Rock’s Scheme; or, The Golden Hand.

By G. W. Browne.

175 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp.
By E'Iward L. Wheeler.

176 Will Wildfire‘s Pluck; or, The Hidden Hand. By
Charles Morris.

177 The Bo Commander; or, The Maid of Perth.
B Cnl. en‘iss Ingraham.

178 T e Maniac Hunter; or, The Mysteries of Night
Island. By Burton Saxe.

179 Dainty Lance' or, The Mystic Marksman. By
J. E. Bad er. r.

180 The Boy old Hunter; or, Navajo Nick‘s Scout.
B; T. C. Harbaugh.

181 T e Scapegrace Son. By Charles Morris.

182 The Dark-Skinned Scout; or, The Freebooters
of the Mississippi. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine.

183 Jabez Dart, Detective; or, The Hermit Trapper.
By 011 Coomes.

184 Featherweight, the Boy Spy. By Ed. Willett.

185 Bison Bill, the Overland Prince. By Col. Pren-
tiss Ingranam.

186 Dainty Lance and His Pard. By Joseph E.
Badger. Jr.

187 The Trapped Tiger King; or, Dart Paul's Plot.
By Charles Morris.

188 The Ventrilo uist Detective. A Romance of
Rogues. By dward L. Wheeler.

189 Old Rocky’s Boys; or Bonito, the Young Mus-
tang-Breaker. By M . Sam S. Hall.

190 Sim Simpkins Scout' or, The Faithful Mountain
Mastifl. By James .Bowen.

191 Dandy Rock‘s Rival; or. The Mysterious Wolf
Rider. Bv Geo. Waldo Browne.

192 Hickory Harry; or, Roaring Ralph, the Ventrila

uist. By Harry St. George.

193 etective Josh Grim; or. The Young Gladiator’s
Game. By Edward L. Wheeler.

194 Prosgect Pete, the Boy Miner. By 01] Coomes.

195 The enderfoot Trailer: or. Plucky Phil, of the
Mountain. By T. C. Harbaugh.

196 The Dandy Detective' or, The Abducted Boy
Myster . By Charles Iorris.

197 Roy. t e Young Cattle King; or, The Texan
S ort Unmasked. By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

198 E ony Dan’s Mask; or, The Riyal Leagues of
the Mines. By Flank Dumonr.

199 Dictionary Nat, etective; or, Bill Bravo, the
Bear Tamer. By T. C. Harbaugh.

200 The Twin Horsemen; or, The Brothers of the
Plumed Lance. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

201 Dandy Darke‘s Pards; or, The .{awks of High
Pine. By Wm. R. Eyster.

202 Tom. the Texan Tige; or, Old Luke’s Luck. By
0]] Coomes.

203 Sam. the Ofi‘lce Boy; or. The Tables Turned. By
Charles Morris.

204 The Young Cowboy: or. The Girl Trailer’s Tri-
umph. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

205 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme.
B E. L Wheeler.

206 \ ite Lightning; or. the Boy Ally. By T. C.
Harbaugh.

207 Kentuck Talbotis Band; or, The Red Lasso. By
Captain Mnrk Wilton.

208 Trapper Tom’s Castle Mystery; or. Dashing
Dick’s Disguise. By 011 Coomes.

209 The Messenger-Boy Detective: or, The Tables
Turned. BK Charles Morris.

210 The Bunch wk of the Mines; or. ReoklessBalph.
the Rood-W 37100.11. 12.): «x.

211 Little Giant and His Band: or Despard, the
Duelist. By P. S. Warne.

212 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado.
B E. L. Wheeler.

213 T e Pirate’s Prize; or. The My~terlous Yank
Schooner. By C. Dunning Clark.

214 Dandy Dave. of Shssm; or, The 'Frlsco Fins
Lightning. By T. C. Harbnugh.

215 During Dan t e Ranger; or, the Denver Dete .
tiye. By 011 Coomes.

216 The Cowboy Captain; or, Ranger Ralph's Ruin.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingrahnm.

217 Bald Head of the Rockies; or. The Ang'l of the
Rang? By Major Sam S. Hall.

218 The iner S art: or, Sugar-Coated Sam’s Claim.
By Edward . Wheeler.

119 Buck, the Detective; or. Paul, the Boy Pard. By
Albert W. Aiken.

220 Crick-Shot Frank; or, Bill Bounce. the Moun-
tain Bravo. By Charles Morris.

221 Merle the Middy; or. A Wait of the Waves. By
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

222 Rosebud Ben‘s Boys; or, The Young Prairie
Rangers. By 011 Coomes.

223 Gold Conrad s \\'atch~Dogs; or, The Two Pards
of Vulture Bar. By T. C. Harbaugh.

2S4 Frisky Fergus, the New York Boy. By G. L.

Aiken.
225 Dick Drew. the Miners Son; or. Apollo Bill, the
Road~Agent. By Edward L. Wheeler.
226 Dakota Dick in Chicago: or. Jack, the Old Tar.
B Charles Morris.
227 erle, the Boy Cruiser; or, Brandt the Bur-
caneer B Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
228 The Preac er Detective; or The Boy Ventrilo‘
uist. By 011 Coomes.
229 ld Hickory's Grin. By John J. Marshall.
230 The Three 0y Sports; or, The Sword Hunters.
By Captain Frederick Whittaker.
231 Sierra Sam, the Detective. By Edward L.
Wheeler.
232 Merle Monte‘s Treasure; or. Buccaneer Brandt’s
Threat By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
288 Rocky Rover Kit; or. Davy Crockett‘s Crooked
Trail. B Ensign C. D. VV‘arren.
t o Miner Chief. By Capt. J. F. 0.
Adams.
235 Jack Stump's Cruise; or, The‘Montpelier's Muti-
neers. By Roger Starbuck.
236 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female De-
tectives. By Ed. L. Wheeler.
237 Newsboy Ned. D tective; or Two Philadelphia
Gamins. By Charles Morris.
238 Merle Monte‘s Sea‘Scraper: or Little Belt's
Droll Disguise. By Col. Prentiss lngraham.
239 Ben‘s Big Boom: or, The Boss Miner‘s League.
Capt. Mark ilton.
240 S rp Shot Mik ; or, Columbia Jim on the Web
Path. By 011 Coomes.
241 Sierra Sam’s Sentence: or. Little Luck at Rough
Ranch. By Edward L. Wheeler.
242 The Denver Detective; or, Dainty Dot at Gold
Gulch. By T. C. Harbaugb.
243 Dutch Jan’s Dilemma; or. The Mysterious
Mountain Monster. By Maj. L. W. Carson.
244 Merle Monte‘s Disguise; or. The Capture of
Brandt, the Buccaneer. By Col. P. In raham.
m Baldy’s Boy Partner: or, Young rainerd’s
Steam Man. By Edwari S. Ellis.
246 Detective Keen‘s Apprentice' or, JamesJumper
the New York Gamin. By Charles Morris.
247 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise. By
Edward L. Wheeler.
248 Giant George’s Pard; or. Arizona Jack, the
Tenderfoot. ByBuckskin'Sam.
249 Ranch Rob‘s Wild Ride; or Old Winch The
Ride King. By T. C. Harbaug .
250 Merle Monte's Pardon; or, The Pirate Chief's
Doom. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
25
U}

 

The Deaf Detective' or. Weasel. the Bo Train
.13: Mwnrd'Wlllett. ' y "

 

 
   
   

. 252 Denver Doll‘s Device: or. The Detective Queen,
B EdwardL. Wheeler. ‘
253 T e Bo Tendert’oot. By Capt. Mark Wilton.
254 Black lie Ben; or. Dutch Jan on the War-
Path. By Maj. Lewis W. Carson,
255 Jolly Jim, Detective. By Charles Morris. v
n 256 Merle Monte’s Last Cruise; or, The Sea Robber
at Buy. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
‘857 The Boy Chief of Rocky Pass; or, The Young
California Pards. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain.
259 Denver Doll as Detecrive. By E. L. Wheeler.
259 Little Foxeye, the Colorado Spy. By Oll Coomes.
260 Skit, the Cabin Boy. Ry Edward \ 'illctt.
261 Blade, the S r ' or. the Giant of ClearGrit
' (lamp. By; . C. ‘Harbaugh.
262 Billy, the oy Rover. By Col. P. Ingraham.
263 Buster Bob‘s Buoy: or. Lige. the Light-House
Keeper. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
264 Denver Doll‘s Partner. By Edward L. Wheeler.
265 Billy, the Baggage Boy: or. The Young Railroad
Detective. H Charles Morris.
266 Guy‘s Boy C um; or. The Forest Waif‘s Mask.
By Capt. Comstoek.
26'? Giant Geo: e's Revenkt‘. By Buckskin Sam.
268 The Deeds ot Dandy. By 001. P. Inzmham.
269 The gnartzvlllle Boss; or, Daring David Darke.
By E ward Willett.
. 270 Denver Doll‘s Mme. By Ed ward L. Wheeler.
271 Ebony J im's Terror; or, Ranger Rainbolt’s Ruse.
Bv OII Coomes. .
272 Kit. the Girl Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh.
273 The Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned’s Surprise. By
Joe. E. Badger. Jr.
274 Dead Shot Dandy’s Double: or. Benito, the Boy
Para, y (‘oL Prentiss lnkmham.
275 Fred. the 009%“ Wain-0r. The Old Sailor’s
' Protege. By Charles Morris.
276 Deadwood Dick Trapped. By Ed L. Whoeler.
277 The I liot Boy Avenger: or. Captain Wild-Cat’s
Big Game. By Albert W. Aiken.
218 Arizona Alt. the Mum-r; or, Little Snap Shot’s
Luck. By T. C. Harbaugh.
279 Colorado Jack. the Tiger- By Fred. Dewey.
280 Dead Shot Dandy‘s LISE'DGM, or. Keno Kit‘s
3 New Role. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
281 Ned the Boy Pilot“ By Jack Farragut.
282 Buc Hawk.Deteotive' or. the Messenger Boy's
*‘Fortune. By Edward l... Wheeler.
283 Roving Sport Kit. By Edward Willett.
284 The Showman’s Best Card' or, The Mad Animal
. Tamer. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
235 Old Rockgs Pard: By Buckskin Sam.
286 Dick. the skate bport. By Charles Morris.
 287 Ned. the Big Skiplper. By Jack Farragut.
. 288 Deadwood ick's )isguisr. By E. L. Wheeler.
289 Colorado Nick, the Lassoist; or. Old Si‘s Protege.
. By Major H. B. Stoddard.
290 Rube. the Tenderl'oot: or. the Boys of Torpedo
v Gulch. By Major E. L. St. Vrain.
291 Peacock Pete. the Leadvillefiport; or, Hawk, the
Boss Miner. Byfiibert W. ken.
.292 {Ice Morey, the Night-Hawk: or. the Black Rider.
» By Joe. . Badger, Jr. . '
293 Dwarf Jake. the Detective; or. Kit Kenyon's
. Man-Hunt. By Edward Willett. ,
294 Dumb Dick’s Pard. By Edward L. Wheeler. '
Ex White Wing. the Ferret Flyer. B Chas. Morris.
., Govlnda. the Tiger-Tamer; or, he American
' \ Horseman Abroad. By Captain F. Whittaker.
‘ 29? Arizona Glant George: or. The Boyees of Sardine-
‘ By Buckskin Sam.
'5 Dash. By T. (Y. Harbauzh.
_ alloon Detectives. By Barry Enton.
M Deadwood Dick‘s Mission. By E. L. Wheeler.
89‘! genitiy Duke. the Cowboy. By Major E. L. St.
* ra n. '
Big Benson‘s Bet. B T. C. Harbaugh.
The Hotel Bey Deiec lye. By Charles Morris.
Md‘fiesd'n Pard. Bv Buckskin Sam.
M'Dglyga DuelhBySBai-ry Haza‘rd.' De
I 301', 'e ON‘DOBOO‘DVOB 00.
Wheeler. ' y

      
     
 
 
  
 
 
 

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. > ‘ '
. ' I v” BEADLE'S POCKET LIBRARY.

 

807 Nick, the Boy Sport. By Major E. L. St. Vraln.

.308 Double-Eisted at: or. The Mystic California.
Giant. By Jos. . Badger. Jr.

309 Old Graybcard‘s Boy; or. The Girl‘s Ruse. By
C. Dunning Clark.

310 Kit, the Girl Captain. By 001. P. Ingraham.

311 Frio Fred in Texas. By Buckskin Sam.

312 The Detective Road-Agent; or. The Miners of
Sassafras City. By Edward L. Wheeler.

313 Honest Jack’s Protege. By Philip S. Warne.

314 Clip. the Boy Sheriff. KB Edward Willett

315 Tom, the Arizona Sport. yMiij. E. L. St.Vrain.

316 The Street'- Arah Detective. By Charles Morris.

317 Buckskin Ben of Texas. By Buckskin Sam.

318 Colorado Charlie‘s Detective. Dash; or, The
Cattle King's. By Edward L. Wheeler.

319 Frisky Frank in Idaho. By Roger Starbuck.

320 Cool Sam‘s Girl Pard. By T. C. Harbaugh.

321 Billy. the Kid from Frisco. By J. C. Cowdrick.

322 Fred Flyer. Detective. By Charles Morris.

3'23 Dead Shot Ike in Montana. By R. Starbuck.

3‘34 Kit, the Denver Sport. By- Edward L. Wheeler.
325 Dusky Darrell the Camp Detective; or, The
Dandy‘s Daring Dash. By Edwin Emerson.

826 Roy. the Boy Cruisor. By Colonel P. Ingraham.

327 Ned, the Roving Miner. B Harry Hazard.

328 Rocky Ben’s Band; or, Big ete‘s Big Haul. By
W. J. Hamilton.

329 Dave. the Colorado Wrestler. By Maj. E. L. St.

ram.

330 The Denver Sport‘s Racket; or, Kit‘s Big Boom.
B Edward L. Wheeler.

331 T to Coast Detective. By Roger Starbuck.

332 Dakota Dan in Canyon City. By Philip S. Warne.

333 Bootbliick Ben. tho Detective' or. Peeler Jim
and His Purd. By Anthony P. lilorris.

331 Frisco Tom on Deck. By George Henry Morse.

335 Ben Bandy. the Boss Ford: or. The Plucky
Parsony By J . Stanley Henderson.

336 Fred. Le Scott. in Brimstone Bar Camp. By
Edward L. V heeler.

33? Daisy Dave the Colorado Gnlnot; or. The Boss
of Dead Line City. By T. C. Harbaug .

3'38 The Gold Bar Detective. By Maj. E. L. St. Vl'aln

3‘34! Rardo. the Boy Gypsy. By Wm. G. Patten.

310 Billy Bubble's Bil: Score. By Charles Morris.

341 Colorado Steve’s Dash. By Philip S. Warne.

342 Snap-Shot Sam. By Bucksin Sam.

3-13 Mike. the Bowery Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.

314 The Drummer Sport. By Edward Willett.

345 J aques. the Hardpan Detective' ‘ or. Captain
Frisco the Road-Accent. ByJ. C. owdrick.

346 Joe. the Chicago Arab. B Charles Morris. .

3-17 Mlddy Herbert‘s Prize. y Col. 1’. lnmham.

348 Sharp -Shoorer Frank. By Buckskin Sam.

34!) Buck. the Minor. By Maj. 'E. L. St. Vrain.

350 Ned. the Slab City Sport. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

351 Roe Mountain Joe. By Col. T. H. Monster-y.

352 New ork Tim. By Charles Merritt.

353 The Girl Pilot. By Roger Starbuck.

35;.Joe. the Boy Stage-Driver B May. St. Vrain.

855 Texas Frank’s Crony. By Buc skinvSam.

3.56 Idaho Ned. Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.

357 Guy. the Boy Miner. By Col. B. lngraham.

358 Jersey Joe, the Old Ta . By Mrs. Orin James.

359 Dandy Dick‘s Dash. By Oll Coomes.

360 Jim‘s qu‘Bonanza. by W. J. Bamilton.

361 Oregon Phil, the Sport By Philip S. Werne.

362 Kit. the Boorhlack Detv‘ctive. E. L. Wheeler. ‘

353 The Ocean Racer. By T. C. Herhaukh.

861 Fritz's Old Score. By Ned Buntline.

365 Crack Shot Harry. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.’

366 Gold Dust Rock. By G. Waldo Browne.

367‘ Fred's Bold Game. By Paul Blhhs.

868 Jim. the Sport in Wake-u?I By Ed. L. Wheeler.

Y

369 Captain Blake‘s Jonah. Roger Starbuck.
370 Denver Kit‘s Double. lili‘y Major H. B. Stoddard.
871 Blue Blazes Dick. By . C. Harbaugh.

872 The Sea Cat's Prize. By Col. Prentiss Ingrabam.
873 Larry O'Lynn‘s Dash. By Joseph F. Henderson.

 

874 Jim. t e S ort‘s Biz Boom; o . The Bonanza
-mng'ahmvaf By‘ndwardhwiieeler. .

' c

 

it:

  
  

\BflPOGKET

{Detective Stories.

470 The Ranger Detective. By Harry Hazard.

454 The Darky Detective. By Mrs. Orin James.

487 Detective Jake’s Clew. By H. B. Stoddard.

806 Detective Paul‘s Right Bower. By C. D. Clark.

887 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Harbnugh.

875 Bowery Bob. Detective. By Jo Pierce.

862 Kit, the Boothack Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.

366 Idaho Ned. Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.

345 Jaques. the Hardpan Detective; 01', Captain
Frisco the Road Agent. By J. C. Cowdrick.

348 Mika. the Bowery Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.

338 The Gold Bar Detective; or. Iron Ike, the Solid
Man. By Major E. L. St. Vrain.

333 Boot lack Ben, the Detective; or, Pooler Jim
and Pard. By Anthony P. Morris.

331 The Coast Detective; or, he Smuggler Shad-
ower. BY Roger Starbuck.

325 Dusky Darrell, the Camp Detective: or, The
Dand 's During Dash. By Edwin Emerson.

822 Fred lyer. Detective; or, Abe Blizzard on Deck.
By Charles Morris.

819 Frisky Franr in Idaho; or. Old Skinflint the
Shadower. By Roger Sterbuck. I

318 Colorado Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The
Cattle Kings. By Edward L, Wheeler.

816 The Street Arab Detective; or, Dick Dorgan's
Double Dealing. By Charles Morris.

312 The Detective Road-Agent' or. The Miners of
Sassafras City. By Edward L. \th eler.

306 Spotter Fritz; or, The Store-Detectives Decoy.

y E. L. veler.

803 The Hotel Boy Detective: or. The Grand Central
Robbery. By Charles Morris.

299 The Ballonn Detectives; or. Jack Slasher’s
Young Pard. By Harry Enton.

295 White Wing, the Ferret Flyer. By Chas. Morris.

293 Dwarf Jake the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon’s
Man-Hunt. y Edward Willett.

282 Buck Hawk. Detective; or. the Messenger Boy's
Fortune. By Edward L. Wheeler.

272 Kit. the Girl Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh.

265 Bllly. the Baggage Boy Detective. By Charles '

Morris.

258 Denver Doll as Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.

255 Jolly Jim, Detective. By Charles Morris.

252 Denver Doll‘s Del-ice; or, the Detective Queen.
B Edward L. Wheeler.

251 The Deaf Detective: or. Weasel, the Boy Tramp.
By Edward Willett. _

246 Detective Keen’s Apprentice; or. Jameleumper,
the New York Gamin. By Charles Morris.

242 The Denver Detective; or, Dainty Dot at Gold
Gulch. By T. C. Harbaugh.

$37 Newsboy Nod. Detective; or, Two Philadelphia
Gemins. By Charles Mon-is.

236 Sierra Sam‘s Double; or. The Three Female De-
tectives. By E. L. Wheeler.

228 The Preacher Detective. B Oll Coomes.

219 Ruck. the Detective. By Al lert W. Aiken.

21?) The Denver Detective. By Oll Coomes.

209 The Messenger Boy Detective. By 0. Morris.

205 The Frontier Detectivn. By E. L Wheeler.

199 Dictionary Nat, Detective. By. T. C. Harbaugh.

196 The Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris.

198 Detective Joah Grim. By E. L. Wheeler.

188 The Ventriloqllist Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.

183 Jabez Dart, Detective. B OllCoomes.

m The Arab Detective By . L. Wheeler.

127 Tony Fox, the Detective. By E. L. Wheeler.

1“; Handsome Barry, the Bootblack Detective. By

o’ ,Charles Morris. 

vs. ‘ 0. Morris.
Detective. By I. L Wheeler.

13 Death-nee.

i

 

LIBRARY.

Wild West Sports.

465 The Texan S rt: or, The Mustang Hunter.
Frederick W itteker.

442 Dirk. the Sea Sport. :2; Roger Starbuck.

435 An Irish S ort Abro ; or. Pat Malloney's Ad
ventures. C. L. Edwards.

484 Joe, the Rover Sport. By A. H. Post.

891 Chéu-le garylark, the Sport. By Major Henry

B. de .

380 Dick Talbot, the Sport. By Albert W. Aiken.

877 The Deadwood Sports; or Diamond Dick‘s Do-
hverance, B Lieut. S. G. Lens .

874 Short Jim‘s lg Boom- or, The onus: King’s
Rival. By Edward L. wheeler.

368 Short Jim in MakeUp' or. Foghorn Fan to tho

nt. BK Edwar eeler.

361 Oregon P ll. the Sport; or, The Marshal of Two
Bits. By Philip S. Warne.

850 Ned. the Slab City Sveort; or, The Detective's
Big Scoop. By E. L. heeler.

844 The Drummer Sport' or, Daeher Dick's
Dilemma. By Edward Willett.

336 Fred. the Sport; or, In Brimstone Bar Camp.

E. L. Wheeler.

330 e Denver Sport‘s Racket; or. Kit‘s Big Boom.
By Edward L. Wheeler.

324 Kit, the Denver Sport. By E. L. Wheeler.

815 Tron}. the Arizona Sport. By Major E. L. St.

re n.

3m Nick. the '80 Sport; or, Three Plucky Pards.
By Major E. St. Vrain.

291 Peacock Pete. the Leadville Sport. By Albert
W. Aiken.

288 Wild Walt. the Sport. By Edward L. Wheeler.

286 Dick, the Dakota Sport. By Charles Morris.

283 Roving Sport Kit. ByEdward Willett.

261 Blade. the Sport. B T. C. Harbaugh.

247 The Girl Sport. By ward L. Wheeler.

230 Three Sports. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

218 The Miner Sport. By E. L. Wheeler.

212 The Jimtown Sport By Edward L. Wheeler.

197 The TrXfln Sport Unmasked. By Col. Prenti
Ingrehnm.

130 God Trigger, the Sport. By T. C. Herbau h.

103 Chip, the Girl Sport. By Edward L. Whee or.

By

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

477 Squire Baker’s Ranch. By Mrs. H. J. Thomas.
478 The Yankee Paddler. By C. D. Clark. .
479 Nick. the Detective. By Edwin Emerson.
480 The Village Sport. By James L. Bowen.
481 Mustang Rider Rtg. By Albert W. Aiken.
482 New York Ned in alifornla. By W. J. Hamilton.
483 The Wild Huntress. By Capt. “ Bruin " Adams.
484 Silver City Tom. By James L. Bowon.
486 Old Nancy’s Ward. By Lieut. Col. H ltine.
486 The Dwarf Decoy. By Metro 0. Rollo.
487 Jack’s Snare. By Mls. Ann E. Porter.
488 Ha lenkle‘s Long Chase. By Wm. R. Eyster
489 Old L ssiire‘s Crisis. Bv Ca t. Chas. Howard.
490 Goosehead's Best Shot. By 03. E. Badger, Jr.
Ready May 31”.
A New law Every Wedueaday.

Bunu‘s Pocxn'r LIBRARY is for sale by all News-
deelers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on re-
ceipt of six cents each.

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