N. Y.. Po“ Orficn. Dec. H, I891 *No $2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Prlce, V01 i "9‘"- No. 98 WILLXAM Sr. NEW YORK. “'0 00““ THE TWIN BUGKSKINS. A ROUND BLACK HEAD AND I’UNDl-IROL'S SH ,IJERS WERE TIIRl‘ST UP THROUGH THE RUBBISH, IT WAS THE GIANT NEGRO, BIG SAM. Sam’s Long Trail. The Twin Butkskins; on, SAM’S LONG TRAIL. BY W. J. HAMILTON. CHAPTER I. THE BROTHERS. A RIVER in the depths of a northern forest, walled in by grand old trees on every side—a deep, turbid river, gliding slowly down among the sedges on the bank. Crowds of aquatic birds from time to time came out of the cover, and dove in the dark depths, seizing the coveted food, and rising to the surface to devour it. A stame deer, with branching antlers, and sleek, shining sides, came down to the bank to drink. Everything told of a primeval wilderness, robed in all the beauty first given by God, before the hand of man had touched it. ‘ A sound disturbed the stillness, and the deer stood erect, peering into the bushes. All at once he sprung away, as the branches on the other shore parted, and a young man came out upon the bank. He was dressed in the garb of a hunter—tan- ned undershirt and leggings, and Indian moc— casins. He held a long ride, thrown carelessly across his arm, and a. knife hung in his belt. His age might have been twenty-four. He a peared to be in no hurry after he had reacho the river, but sat down upon the sunny bank, looking out upon the stream. The birds, becoming accustomed to his presence came out a ain one by one, and began to feed as usual. 0 young man looked at them With a uiet smile. He was one who took pleasure in (xed’s handiwork, and reveled in his domain, He who cannot take pleasure in abeautiful landscape has little that is good and true in his heart. The young man, gazing out upon the river, grew weary after a ittle, and then fell ofl! into a. doze. Perhaps he had slept an hour, perhaps more, when a sudden, shrill, startling cry run out upon the air. There was nothing wonderfu in it—only the cry of the great fish—hawk sail- ing over the Water. But at the first sound he started eagerly erect, and placing his hand to his mouth, uttered a shrill note, an exact imita- tion of the one he had just heard. The cry was answered again, and then he sat down and waited. Fifteen minutes passed, when a person came cautiously out upon the other shore, looking eagerly across. he young hunter sprung up and called: “ Alph?” “ Are you there, Ben? How shall I cross?" “ Take a log. We are on a business which re- uires that we should not fear to wet our buck- s ins.” The other laughed, and in a few moments “shed through the sedgesa log, towhieh he lashed his rifle and ammunition. He soon stood out upon the shore. What a wonder was here! The same in every feature, joint, and limb, the two men stood together. You could not tell them one from the other. The wives of the two Droniios of Shakespeare could not have been more astonished than any person would have been who saw the two foresters together. “ Ah, lad i” said the first, shaking the hand of his brother, “ how have you been?” “Capital!” said Alph. “ You were here be fore me.” “ I always get along in time,” said Ben. “ What made you so late?” “Oh, if you calculate the time I spend over my meals compared with yours, you will under- stand why I lost an hour. Which way now?” “ Our business is to find out the whereabouts of the French, and report to the commanding general. But here we are on Canada Creek, and the French, probably, a hundred and thirty ’ miles away. We must be up and doing.” “Just as you say, Ben.” “ You will take command of the expedition, Alph?” “There, there, Ben; none of that. Don’t you know what ‘ Dromio ’ said to his brother? “ ‘ We came into the world like brother and brother, Now let‘s go hand in hand, not one before the other.’ ” “ Como 0‘1, then,” said the other, sprin ing up, and throwing his long rifle to a trail. ’ ‘he tWo plunged into the forest. The perioi at which our story commences is that dismal time in Colonial history known as the “ French and Indian War." During this struggle, the fearful massacres which occurred have made it a blot upon the history of the times. The French, under their able but unscrupulous leaders, ravaged the country, capturing forts, and letting the lawless bands of Indians under them riot in blood. The historical reader pe- ruses with horror the records of the periods in which Oswego and William IIenry gleam out. There was one prominent man upon the Eng- lish side, and one only, who understood the na- ture of the lndian tribes and treated them accord— ingly. The control this man gained over the “Six Nations,” and especially over the more powerful tribe, the Mohawks, was wonderful. Through all the long and trying wars between the English and French for possessions in Amer- ica, the majority of these tribes stood firm for British interests, and served as an effectual shield against the aggressions of the French. It was in the Indian country that the bloody battles were fought which have a place in history. The English had early erected a Chain of forts along the Hudson, and the Mohawk. Against these the efforts of the French were mainly directed. General William Johnson (afterward Sir Wil- liam) had early laid before the Government the necessity of a champ! works in this region, both to keep the Indians 111. order and to drive back the French, Proverbially slow in everything rc- ardin the Colonies, the English Government id not ing for some years. Those whom it sent over to command the armies were not the right ones; they did not understand how to deal with the Indians or the provincial troops; who were, in reality, the main dependence of the country in wars against the savages and the French. With this prelude, we will understand the mis— Sam’s Long Trail; . sion of the two brothers. They were known far and wide along the border, as fearless wood rangers and daring scouts. The settleis on the frontier blessed them, for many a time they had saved life by giying warning of the coming foe. ’They were born to a difierent heritage. But their father, a gentleman of broken fortunes, had left the home of his nativity behind him, _ and turned his back upon the graves of his fathers, and with these two' sons, pledges of the affection of a lost and dearly~loved wife, came to this country. He lived to see his sons grow up to manhood, and then laid calmly down to die. The grew to love the woods and its' mysteries. In més of peace they ranged the forest, hunting the deer in the leafy coverts, fl hting the pan- ; ther in his native woods, and cgasing the bear J into its (lens in the mountain. And when the ';i sound of savage warfare was heard along the ‘ -1’ border, they took their rifles, tightened their belts, and went out to the work before them. General Johnson knew his men when he sent them out. In all the arts of savage lifc,~of ltheir tricks and subtleties, they were perfect masters. The Wero born scouts. T 8 two pressed on together, talking pleasant- ly as they proceeded. The were in that stretch 7 of level country north of tica, part of the Mo- .‘v. , hawk Valley, then the property 0: the greatest tribe of the Six Nations, the Mohawks. The country is cut up by little streams, and, further north, as you near-Trenton Falls, rises into high- lands. Iiito this hilly country the scouts were making their way, and struck the east branch of Canada Creek‘high above the falls. Then they sat down at noontide and cooked a a4)“. . don.» . meal. It was soon done. A piece of venison, 5 suSpended over a little fire, no larger than a z * ' man’s hand, soon received all the cooking doom- ’ ' ed necessary by the brothers. They ate their ; meal. and then lay down in the shadow of a rock, : s - and began a conversation. ‘ , f.‘ I don’t know that it is necessary to blow our- " selves by tramfiing in this hot sun," said Alph. , .' ‘ “We can ma 9 up for lost time by traveling " r ., late. You did not have time to tell me what 9 ' you saw at Edward." 19‘ '1 ' “ Pshaw I” said Ben. “ Theyare going to put- ' I tar on, just as usual. The only man who knows “ anything about Indians and their ways, General {'7 Johnson, has his hands tied by the ‘ oi‘ders’ of :1; men who have no more business to command '5 I‘ , him than I have—no, not so much; for I think I l _ '.know what ought to be done and they have not ’3 : the'faintest idea. “They send over a lot of ‘red- ‘9 i l coats ’ because they have fought well in battalions 1%, ’ on European fields, and ex t them tn know how to carry on a war wit the American In- dian—to drill, f_orm battalion and charge ha chat, in the thickets around the Horiconl I tell you, Indians must be fought in their own ' Way, or they will not be overcome. What is I wanted is a good body of provincials-—men who have lived upon the border and fought Indians upon every river.” _ are right, Ben; but you Will never see 4316 time when the Eu lish Government will trust the ,provincials. Eritish ministers ought to do it, but the won't. You have not asked . me what I haye say.” What is’ it? They were telling at Edward “n .. of a terrific defeat of Braddock in the wilderness of Pennsylvania. Is it so?" “It is true; the most sickening story it ever was my fate to tell. The army which marched out so elated, so full of hope, to, the capture of Du Quesne is now broken and defeated, shelter- cd by the walls of Fort Cumberland, You know under What circumstances the expedition gathered, and how joyoust I set forward to join it. But Braddock was in a hurry. He had two thousand men with him at Cumberland and inOro were coming on. But on the 10th of J iine, he started out with this force.” “ \Vliy did he not wait for the rest?” “ It was thought by him and many of his officers, that Fort Du Quesne would be reinforc- ed if he did not hasten the expedition. This might be, and we should have been successful in our work, even with the men we bad, if care had been taken in the march.” “Were there any provincials?” “Yes, a body of Virginians under Colonel W'ashington; and they were the only men in the army who knew how to light Indians. As we neared the fort, word came in that we must liiirl' on, or reinforcements would be in before us. raildock then lessened his force still more. He selected twelve hundred of the best troops and hurried on, loaving Colonel Dunbar with the rest of the men. All the baggage that could not be carried was in his hands. More haste less speed. I heard Colonel \Vashington ask the general if he might not lead the provincials in advance. Braddock looked at him crosst enough.” “" I have arranged my order of march, colo— ' “ ‘But, sir, the troops you have sent in ad- vance do not understand Indian fighting.’ _ “ ‘ They are his Majesty’s regular troops, sir and know their duty. You know your )osition.3 “Washington went away looking” isg'usted enough. But he took his place as before, and the march was pushed on. You never saw such a jungle. But the troops were full of spirit1 and it pained me to see so man brave fellows marching on to their deaths. 'eutenant-Colo— nel Gage led the advance. He was a brave fel- low, hut know as much about what he was do- ing; as Braddock did. All at once we heard the rattle of rifles, and the yells of the savages. In a few moments, back came the vanguard on a. dead run, and Plunging into the ranks, made the greatest con iision you ever saw. “ Then we saw how it was. The rascals had waited until the whole army were fairly in the woods and then they opened upon us right and left. ll’ot an enemy was in Sight, but ‘from every tree, and bush, and log, rifles gleamed and bullets hissed out n on us. We did our duty, God, knows, and the rave death of Brad- dock almost atoned for his foolish rashncss. Three times his horse went down, and as man , times he mounted again, and strove to rally h troops. I don’t blame them for bein scared! It seemed as if pandemonium had bro en loose about us. And the fire was withering: our men sunk down, in scores. Evei mounted officer, except Washington, was ( own. The ranks Were thinning, and men rushed this We that. A rifle cracked, close to me, as I ought all? 4 Sam’s Long Trail. among the provincinls, and then I saw Brad- dock fall. The troops only wanted thatl, They would not, could not fly, while that man rode up and down the line: but when he fell, they broke nndfled in dismay. Not the provincials, thank God; they saved the army!" N How?” . “Washin ton threw them into the rear of 0111‘ army (I: of? were in the flank before). and gave the copper-skins back shot for shot. There were not many of them, I don’t think. It was the surprise and. kind of ground that did it. Never in my time did I witness o. defeat so sweeping, so utter. Half our men and two- thirds of the officers lay dead or wounded upon the earth. Those who were wounded were worse off than the dead, for no earthly power could save them. They were butchered upon the ground. ' “ We fell back and followed the army. on its way, when we knew that it was safe. No fear of catching them. They ran like (1691'; and when they came up to Dunbnr’s com mind, they turned tail and never sto pod until they got to Fort Cumberland. I eard when I‘ came ‘ away that Dunbnr was going to leave Wash- ingMn’s provincials there and go to Phila— delphia. They will trust the provincials in that provmce now. ’ “And so that is the end. God grant no such disaster befall us. There will not, if they will only let Johnson alone. The French will bring a. cloud of red—skins down with them from above.” “You.had better believe it. Dieskuu will lead them. The old baron is a. brave man, and is not so cruel as some Frenchmen. Shall we go now?” “ Yes. What course shall we take?” “I think We should go down the river, and pass the Middletons on our way.” “ Umph.” said the other, looking at his brother with an" amused smile. “ You think we had better pass by Middletons?” “ Yes; why not?" “ No reason in the world, my dear boy. On the contrary, I think it the best course, if,”--— and the young man smiled jocosely, “ you will en age not to stay too long at the cabin." - No more of that, an thou lovest me,” said the other.‘ ‘ The Mohawk is one of the most beautiful streams in nature’s vast expanse. But the brothers had no > time to notice its beauties. Theg had work before them. , T ey found a canoe among the reeds upon the shore. It was not left there by chance. These men had followed the examp e of all versed in Woodcraft: and had a. canoe upon every stream through which they scouted. They were soon I seated in their little craft. and floated swiftly " {down the creek. Amilo below they emerged ‘ into the Mohawk itself, and turning the head i I of the canoe down-stream, with little labor at the paddles barely enough to keep her steady, they mkrt a course or the current. The young men knew the way. They had over this. ground a dozen times, and ‘- ‘ 101' certain reasons, had visited it before. ' mm reasons ware will shortly appear. , ‘ ‘ I I _ ' « ‘fl ' I her. - . . She met them with a shy, pleased expression, “Do you think we Shall find Middleton a home?” said that worthy. , , “ Don’t know. I suppose so, however, unless ‘ he is out on n hunt. That need make no differ- ence to you, brother Ben." , “I told you to quit that, Alph. What does Flora. care for me more than for you?" “Nonsensu, Ben. Don’t be a donkey. You know you worship the very ground under mom Middleton’s feet, and I know. if. you do not, that there is no earthly being: W110 Gal! make her ', pretty llttle heart palpitnte at his coming as you I, 4,‘ , can.1 ' v ‘ “Do you think so, Alph?” cried the other,, eagerly. “I don’t know how it may be. Per- ’ \‘z‘ r - hups you are right.” V "i “ Yen; and Ben, take the advice of a. brother. While you have a chance, secure her; ask her to be your wife.” While he was speaking, he placed the head of the canoe toward the shore. The bushes hun low_ about the bank, and the brothers forc x their waythrough them and gained footing on tne rocks above. I A beautiful girl, clad in Euro}.— cam garb, sprung up as they appeared, ut- tering a. little cry of astonishment, and came‘to—' ward them, holding out her hands. . ' 1 .. ,.:.M.,. Tu . . .. nah-— Nnfi.¢—-§~..~.M~ CHAPTER II. FLORA MIDDLETON. THE girl who met them was slight in figure, with the face which is given only to England's daughters. A world of beauty lurked in her dark eye, and in the roses upon cheek and lip. , I do not care to describe her. It is enough’that Bon Armitage thought her beautiful, and loyc'd . um .. that became her well. She greeted Alph kindly. l » but it was in Ben’s hand that hers lingered. and ‘ V" he, looking into her starry eyes, had hopes for /' 3:. his future. ~ “ Where is your father?” said Alph. “He is in the house. Will you go in and see‘ him or shall I call him out?” “ Here he is himself.” said a. firm voice. A‘ man had come out of the cabin and was shaking" , hands with Ben Vigorously, A stalwart, pale old men, clad in tho homespun of the frontier, but With certain things about him which bespoke the entleman born. /, > “ oys, I am glad to see you, only—" .« 5‘ Only what?” * / “ I know by your looks that you have girdad on your armor for battle. _911 me, are weto have trouble along thew frontiers?” V r , “We are; the French emperor has swam either to drive us from the country, or late his possessions in America. L001; out for bloody times. Swarms of Hurons Will join them, and .( cabins will blaze from Schuylerto Albany; tat , * my word for it." v “ You think so?” ‘ . , ,, Our generals know this, and ‘ had been “I am certnin. are already in the field. _0b. 11 with me at Du. Quesnefilf you an seen-our. brave men slaughtered like shoe by the blind stupidity of English officers. ~11 will the ; Government dp thli}. M1ddleton9 Wyliydo they notoificexj, their regiments by such menoayour» . '5 x ~ g 7‘ 1,1: x“ r r ) l , her a service at any time. ' no longer the face of :1 man.” ' work nobly; and though he cannot stop all atrocities, yet he does much good. ’1' ' could the Colonies do in u. war with England?” ' ““Tothe Sam’s Long Trail. .8, self, ‘who have not only received a military edu- cation but who know the Woods? Why do they not call you out of your obscurity and give you a. command?” “ You ask questions that I am unable to an— swer," said Middleton. “ You say truly, I havc received a. military education at the hands of the Government, and hold myself ready to do If they call me into active service, I shall go out, perhaps.” “We need such men we have one, at least, in our Southern nrmy.’ “ Who is that?" “Colonel Washington. You never saw him, but I tell you, he is of the stuff of which We make heroes. And whcn he is in battle, he is sublime. His face becomes glorified; it seems 3 “ He is o. Virginian?” “Yes, mid kept. down, as all provincials are. He is the best leader on our continent to—dny, and yet his advicequ not taken, and Braddock’s arm was hurried to destruction.” “ on are enthusiastic in his praise.” “ He deserves it. His llll'n illolize him. The people along the frontier 1 less him. He is their uardian-angcl. Compellcd, with his small orce, to guard the whole frontier, he does his 7, “ Was the defeat at Du Quesnc entire?" “Utter rout, with the exception of the Vir- ginians, who fought with the utmost courage.” “ You make much of the provinciels.” “ Yes; and the time will come when the pro- .vincials will make more of themselves. England does not use the Colonies us they should be used, and the time will come wkou war will be the result.” ‘t War?” ‘LYes, war. Rebelion, if you will have it no. , “ The! Colonies rebel!" , “Don’t make so strange of it; when we hear the muttering of the thunder, and see the dark clouds, we look for rain.” “ Have you seen such clouds?” “ Have not you?" “ I wish you young hothcads would learn reason. One can do nothing with you. What ‘ ,‘ 1‘ What, indeed! Ah, there is strength of pur- pose in this fair land of which our rulers never dream. What could they do, if banded together $1113?- Anythiug, everything!” “ by, Ben,” said Flora, “ one would think you were talking of the French, you aresocnthu- elastic. Have you reflected that it is England a ur wrath is arousal—England, geinst whom yo 0 has been a mother to the Colonies?” “ I forget nothing,” Bald. » the young man, gloomily. “ Would to God I could. You know me, Flora. Middleton. I am a provincial, and I re l all wrongs to the provinces, and I care not hand deals the blow, so long as it is given. we care for the ensigns of royalt cut in the Woods? You remember what they t ed to do in Carolina!” ,, “ To what do on refer?” fox-mgof'govemment concocted , John Locke for the infant colony of Carolina. W Think of it; barons, earls and dukes for the new world! The log cabins scattered along the Cooper and. Ashley, and Cape Fear Rivers, Were to be governed by such men. Our sturdy ax- nien laughed at such foolisness.” “ That was long ago,” said Flora. “ They have not got it out of their heads yet, and are trying new :plans to domineer over us, hour by hour. ’ . “ There, there i” said Middleton. “ Let us have no more of this. Flora, the boys must be hungry. Go you into the house and see that some savory bits from that buck f brought in this morning are cooked for them. I wish to talk with the ho is.” %en looked after her light figure as she glided away, glancing back at them. “ Don‘t be impatient, Ben,” said the father. “ I will give you time enough to talk to her by and by. What 1 Wish to ask you, While she is out of hearing, do you think it is safe for us to stay here? Your opinion, Alph l” The young man mused. “ I don‘t know how to answer you, Middleton. Here you have everything nice about you, and things look thriving enough. If you go to the settlements, you must expect to come back to find your house and negro-quarters in ruins, and your croEs destroyed.” He loo ed about him. The house was a neat little log structure, strongly built, as was the custom of the times, the logs dovetailed into each v other upon the ends. There were two windows in front, which could be closed at any time by heavy shutters, and secured by bars. The doors were of oak, and would require considerable force to move them on their hinges. To the rear of the house, which fronted on the river, a long row of neat log cabins served as quarters for the negroes. who could be seen passing in and out, . attending to theirhousehold duties. Alph sighed, and the sigh was echoed by Middleton. “ It does seem hard to give it all up, when everything is beginning to ook so niccly. I am so happy here, nwuy from the busy life to which I have been accustomed; I revel in the sweets of nature here. There is no such country, take man’s depravity away, upon the faceof the earth. Must I give it up?” “ I don’t deny that there is danger. You your— self know well the nature of the savage in time of war. The bulk of the tribes are in our favor. But in all tribes, even the Mohawk, there are some fellows who will range the border, and commit deprexlations on the settlers. I know some of these fellows. We have many in our service who cannotbe depended on. The nature of an Indian is to be treacherous; and these of the Six Nations carry it out to the utmost.” “ Not the chiefs?” “No, not the chiefs; that is, the older ones, for there are some young“ hothcads among the chiefs who would be led into mischief by eny subtle tongue; and the arch fiend himself is noth- ing to these ellows who are against us.” “ Which ones?” “ The Jesuits.” _ “ You are right. They are a bloodthirsty, craft , and deal ing crawl” t . , “ ou want y opinion. As I said before you are in danger all the time. he bench m x 6 Sam’s Long Trail. coming upon us, and though you are not directly in their coulse, rovin bands will find you out. Do you think you con (1 stand a siege?" “ 1 don’t know; the house is pretty strong.” “ It would depend upon whether they were in haste. If they had the time, they would 1m- doubtodly take it after a while. What force have you?” “ Well, I have six boys, who are strong enough, if they had the pluck.” “But, unluckily, these .darkies seldom have that very much—needed article. Pluck is not a plant of rapid growth with them. Have you got Sam yet?" “ Of course; here he comes now.” “ Hi—yahl Massa Alph; (lat you?” The speaker was a negro, of such pondcrous dimensions that one was almost startled at the sight. “ Big Sam ” was nearly seven feet high, and of proportionate strength. But his bread face shone with good-humor. He was never known to be very angry, and seldom used his prodigious strength for evil. He was brave as a lion, and his master depended on him as if he were himself. Tho black loved his master, and as for Flora he idolized her. Next to his master and mistress he liked the brothers—and now came up to greet them with a smile which extended across his entire face from car to ear. ' “ We were just talking about you, Sam,” said Alph, “and we wanted to know how many Indi-ms you could take care of, for the sake of Miss Flora.” “ Injins?” £L 7) “ Tryin’ to take Miss Flora ’way?” ‘l Yes.” “ Boat 9. t’ousan’,” said Sam, confidently. Alph laughed. “ In that case, Middleton, on need have no fears, for I do not sup mm 1: ey cm bring that number against you. on don’t think that you would run away, then, Sam, when the Indians come?” Sam straightened up proudly, and threw out his broad shoulders with a dignified expression: “ P’raps you don’t knozv me, Massa Alph, and p’rap; you do; but if you t‘inks dat mean of me, you don’t know anyt’ing about me. I ain’t a coward I lubs do very groun7 Miss Flora walks on, and I don't say it to brag, but cause I means it. I w’n’d die fer her as quick as you would, of thar was trouble fer her.” “ I have no doubt of it, Sam. You are a brave fellow, and I was only joking. There is no reason to fear. I don‘t know but there may be danger, becaum so many Indians are around, and I wanted to put you on your guard. You understand me?” Yaas, Massa Alph. mean to t’ink dat bad ob me. come, I’s take care of them.” Sam went on, and Alph resumed his conver- sation with Middletonpfor Ben had taken ad- vantage of the interruption by Sam to slip into the house. “The best advice I can give you is this: we are going on ascout, and shall be absent a couple of weeks. At the end of that time I can tell you much better what is best for you, than I can now, because I shall know the plans of the I nobbor t’ought you S’pose deln Injin French, upon which the movements of the In- dians hinge completely. Here is What you bet— ter do. Remain quietly at home, and prepare for a move. Strengthen your house as much as possible, and have your ammunition and rifles in order. Don’t make any unnecessary parade of it, as that might give a hint to some of the n d renegach about the country.” “ Sviull I tell Flora what you say?” “ Not yet. Beni—Ohl confound him he has cleared out. It is all I can do to keep that boy in order. I don’t know that we can ever cure him of that, but by giving him Flora for a wife. Now, I wanted him to tell this to her.” “ U11. let him alone, you confirmed old bach- elor. Flora and he agree perfectl , and I hope some tune to see them married. “Phat were you going to say?” “ That you had better stay here until on hear from us, or know that we are taken. he path we must travel is full of danger. As for that, we. have grown accustomed to it, and can face it like men. It is only when we have such help— less things as that to care for, that we begin to fear. Hark!” Flora was singing, in the house, a. sweet, low ballad, such as finds a way into the heart of man ——singing with a careless abandon, and with feeling in the tone. They went in. Ben was sitting at the side of the hearth, joining now and then in the sweet refrain. “ Oh, you two; what punishment is due for desertion? As your superior officer, I ought to have you court—martialed on the spot.” Ben liughed. “ Don’t interrupt,” he said. “Here is an interruption of another sort,” said Alph, lookin toward the door, Whlch stood 0 en. Two ndians had glided in and taken t eir seats upon a low bench near the door. The larger and older of the two was a, powerful fellow, in the prime of life, the buck— skin fnlling away from his broad shoulder and showing the strong muscle beneath. He was clad in the simple dress of the Indian an un- adorned buckshin shirt and leggings. The shirt was gathered about his waist bya thong of buckskm, and in it hung a tomahawk and knife. He also had a musket, which he allowed to lean against the wall. His companion was a young man, perhaps twenty—five years of age, not so powerful as the other, but with a certain lithe, panther-like agility in his movements that spoke well for him. He had a sharp, cunning face, and an eye that gleamed with ferv1d earnestness from under his dark brows. He Was dressed with more taste than the other savage, for his moo» casins were beaded. and the shirt fancifully, wrought with stained Porcupine-quills. His' weapons were the same as the other’s, and he carried them with a Jaunty grace that spoke the savage Crichton. Middleton advanced to greet them. It was no uncommon thing for the savages to stop at the house, when they grew tired of the chase, and rest a while. “Good-day, friend.” said he, extending his, hand to the older Indian. “Is my brother well?” “Tired,” said he. “Come long- way—want rest.” rmwm 0 'd: d 5 0'"? JG:- i , a .«mi . in can»: an...» okay, . “M. A, 17"“. “.1, 1,59% , again a scout in our army. - ahdwould embrace the first opportunity to get woven ,with him for his attac ' f' com the ’ whole _ over, t e savages rose, Without a word and left "‘7‘ Re is. of a traiterous brood. ‘ “ My brother is very welcome. Will he smoke . a i l” ' geka down along reed-stem from over the mantle, and proceeded to light it. This done, he passed it to the Indian, who hesitated a mo— ment, and then, raising it to his lips, took two or three whifi‘s, and passed it to the other. He followed his example, and was passing it to Alph, when that person dashed the pipe sud— denly to the earth, and seemed ready to 11 at the throat of the Indian. He sat unmoved, p ay- ing carelessly with the handle of his knife. But there was a fierce gleam in his dark eye, telling of a fire burning,r within, which a very little wind'would {911 into flame. “ Renegade l” shouted Alph. “ Who is he?” demanded Middleton. “ Han-do, tho renegade Mohawk. He never shall smoke with me.” “Why is my young brother mad at Han-do?” said he, in a musical voice. “ What has he done?” “ He has been a spy for the French." “My brother is right; but did not the Eng- lish drive him out of their wigwams, and say to the Mohawk chiefs, send him out from among you? That is over now. The English were wrong, and Han-do is again a chief in his tribe. He is without stain. His heart is pure.” “ How am I torknow that this is true?” The Indian drew a paper from his breast, and handed it to him. ' I “ Read ” he said. “ Talking-paper.” “ Read, it aloud?” “ Yes ” Alph opened the paper, and read as follows: “Know, all men, that Han-do, the Mohawk, is free from imputations against his good name, and is Jousson." “Umphl” said Alph. “He gave you this, did heil Well, I hope you are reformed; but, until I am sure of it, I am not your friend. Are you a scout now?" "My own business; why you ask? No like me, I don’t care; take care own self; let me ’lonel” . The savage drew himself up moodily, and sat upright in his corner, looking at the young man, from time to time. under his heavy brows. It; was very evident that he bore him no good-will, upon him. His nion sat silent, watching the motions of ,o, and drawing little attention to himself. His wandering e 9 took in all the appurtenances of the cabin for urther use. Ben was watcbin him furtively, and did not like the expression 0 his eye. But the meal was soon ready, and the rty sat down to partake. When it was the house, plunging at once into the depths of ~ the forest. “,1 do not like that young Indian,” said Alph. I like not these renegades, find them where you will.” “ hen you do ot believe in his contrition'l” “Not in the. . He may, mark you, for licy’S' sake. be. friendly to us for awhile; and 0, us good semce; but hecannot be relied on, I Sun’s Long’ Trail; I ' 7 and the very first opprrtunity he will turn against us.” “ The older one is less to my taste than the younger,” said Ben. “ His eyes were every- where. He was taking note of the position of the windows and doors, their fastenings and strength. In case your house ever is attacked by Indians, that fellow, with his knowledge, would be a bad 0' ponent.” “ How do you now that?" “ I had In eyes upon him all the time.” “ Father,’ said Flora, suddenly, “ you are try- ingto deceive me.” Middleton started. “ I do not understand you.” “ You fear an attack from the Indians. I know you do. Your getting me out of the way, that you might talk with Alph, was not lost upon me. I know why it was done. Trust mei'if there is danger, I think I can face it bravely. “ Bless the girl I" said the old man. “ She has the old spirit in her, and is not afraid. Seri- ously, then, my child, we do not know of any immediate danger; but, with bands of savages prowling about the country, we ma be attacked at any moment, as you very well ow. That is all, upon my honor.” “ Believe me,” said Ben, “ if I thought you in an certain danger, I should not leave on, neither would Alph. But we are in the lung‘s service, and must work for him. We will be 0E now. “ Yes, we had better,” said the other. “We have far to go, and much to do. The French are coming down from the north, and General Johnson has set ustowork. We pull wdl to- gether, he says.” , The two brothers ti htened their belts, looked to the condition of t eig‘ rifles, and drew the buckskin coverings more closely over the locks; before they began their march. The old man shook hands w1th them, and prudently retired into the house, while Alph as discreetly went on his way alone, after kissing Flora, not looking . back to see the parting of the lovers. “ You are going Into danger, Ben,” said Flora, looking up at him with tearful eyes. “ You will be very careful for m sake, won’t on?” Of course he promised a 1 thin : a the two found so much to say, that A ph grew impa- tient, and called to him to hurry. Pausing only to snatch a kiss from her willing lips, he Joined his brother in the edge of the woods. CHAPTER III. IN THE woons. IT was about three in the afternoon when the brothers left the house. They went on with the racticed ‘ step of the hunter trained to the orest, moying with cautious steps, keeping a. careful watch on every side. They were not the ones to becaught in an Indian ambush. They conversed in a. low tone as they went on: ' “ Where were the French gathering?" It was Alph who spoke. “ At Crown Point. “ Have you been there?” » “Yes, 1 have been in the very midst of the fort. Little did Dieskau suppose that the mad hunter, who ed so much amusement for 1 ( hisyoun officers, was aman for Whom aFrench cord has on made for many a day.” “ Oh, yes; they would like to catch us, but we shall bother them yet. Dieskau is a smart man, but we have been too sharp for him so far. Do you know I anion the lookout for that rene— gade?” “ He is far ahead.” “Perhaps he is; but do you remark that we no longer see his trail?” The young man looked quickly downward. “This is the direct route he must have taken. By heavens, you hre right! The are behind us." “ It is dangerous to leave an ndian who bears us no good-will, so close in our rear. 7’ ' Ben considered a moment. “ Break into a run,” said he, at length. “ Keep it up until you got around that bond, and then get behind a tree.” Ben started OR, and Alpli, taking the hint at once followed him at a rapid pace. As soon as the hand hid the road behind from their sight, the turned suddenly aside, and sought shelter u'n r the spreading boughs of a. huge pine. They had not long to wait. In a few minutes quick ate 3 were heard coming down the forest- th, an the two rascals, who had left the case half an hour before, came in Sight. z' i‘Oh, on beauties!” muttered Alpli. “Now, I shoul consider it no sin to send a bullet throu, b that young dandy’s head, especially as I now that he would take my life without scru lo." “ on are right, and we have only to decide whether to shoot them down without mercy, or to teach them a lesson they will not soon forget. What do you say to seizing them, and giving them a sound flogging?” v “ I don’t doubt we could do it,” said the other, lookin rather proudly down upon his strong young imbs. “ At‘them, then!” ‘ The two Indians had arrived nearly Opposite the trees behind which the young men were hid- ‘ den, and were dashing on in hot pursuit, when each was appalled by the vision of a rifle pre- sented to his naked breast, with a pt‘roiiiptory demand to lay down their arms. They com— plied, somewhat unwillingly, with the request, rticularly as it was backed by the soft solici- tion of arifle. Guns, tornahawks and knives were cast in a heap upon the earth. “ Take the belt of your friend,” said Alph, ad- d the younger man, “ and bind his hands behind is back.” The young Indian looked at him steadily for a moment, as if he intended to rebel, but the omin- ous click of the gunlock told him that he had better com ly at once, and without making trouble. ’1’ a 'hands of the stout Indian were "soon bound tightly, putting him out of the way of doing misoh of. ' “ Now tie him,” said Alph, addressing his brother. / ~ I n laid down his rifle, and bound the young chief infthe same manneras his companion, and, in addition. with his own and his brother’s belts, tied them firmly to small saplings, facing each other. The savages looked on in impotent rage, as their captors coolly began to their éam’s Long Traila ' » . i 4. we... . ' I r “ Why did you linger behind us?” said Alph, placing himself before the youn r chief. . “ Go where I choose. s’pose. oods mine to. f‘ wallfjin,’tw§ll as yours.” ‘ " _ “ on. e insolent, my young beaut ' I ask ; ‘ it as a friend. Why did you loiter Whigdf’ 3 - “is r “ Fin’ out bes’ you can.’ “I mean to do that; or rather, I know al- KN» was ready. You followed us with the intention of ,, shooting us at tire first opportunity—did you \ not? The Indian becmne sullcnly silent. They knew ' » that the were fairly taken in the net they had. preparer for others, and expected nothing but. ‘ death. The preparations of the twins were ‘ quickly and coolly made. They bent down a. young hickory, near at hand, and cut from its ‘e oiig, ‘pliant shoots about a dozen long rods ' l which they proceeded to trim before the eyes of ’ their enemies. The savages read their fate in these prepa ations. They were to be flog d—- 2 ' . the most degrading punishment that coud be ‘ ' w 1 doVised; death was to be preferred. “See here," said Han-do. “No flog! Kill, if '“ 111%8117—110 care; but notflog‘l; - eyoung‘ men con inu uietl re 1" for téie punishment. Han-do cl‘epeafiz'eg' quos . ’i “'It is no use,” said Alph. “ You are in the i pay of the king, and but for that We Should have - shot you at once. W'e give you thosnmc punish- mont you would receive at the forts for a like misdemeanor. Be content that we do not take your lives.” “ See," said Han-do; “ I am only an Indian, but, in all‘my life, I never was struck a blow. D?‘l]l:gli sti‘ihkime now.” d A1 h ' ' mus e done ” re lie calml but. firliiily. “Cease go plead?” p ’ y’ ' v ' e savage sai no more but set his ll to hear the trial he knew’must come) psHfioni‘iiiyi not shrink from the sin. No; the young chief would have shouted ‘ death—song in the midst of a fire; but the idea of blows upon his bare skin appalled him. The punishment in itself was light compared with the crime for which it was ‘ the atonement. He had intended to murder the « -, brothers; had followed them for that urpose, but had looked for death, if taken, not isgrace. ‘1‘ Are you ready, Ben?” said Alph, flamingo rot . “ “ Ready,” was the reply. “Give it to him, then. Forty, save one.” The rods Whistied through the air, and lighted Wu the naked shoulders of the bound men. ot a shiver, not a cry, spoke the agony they endured, as the fierce strokes came down. Only the eyes of each burned with a frightful mange" nity, which told of the fire boiling in, their hearts, 3 The twins had made enemies who would be faith- ' ' ful unto death. / I The punishment was over; and, leaving them, bound to the sailings. the young men proceeded to break the loc s of their rifles. and threw their knives into the river. This done, they 113d the hunting—shirts over the scarred she dare, ~« and untied them, with the admonition that, it they crossed their paths again, they would shoot. them down like dogs. _ . stri Maiden bare, and prepare them for gontier the eyes still blazed hk The Indians answered nevera Word. / ehiddenflres" .. ’ mt new vie-wqu p, -“ 4 . .-.. vase-4... . («ma-cc" "smw ‘. 1’ .3 as, -, deu-..w_-.u; "ham... we...“ .. / Sam’s Long Trail. I 9 “ You will remember this,” said Alph. “’Member it? Yes!” The concentrated bitterness of his tone cannot be expressed. “Gol” said Ben. Without another word, the warriors turned aside, and left the beaten path which the young scouts must pursue. “We have made enemies,” said Alph. “ We could do no less,” replied Ben. “ The fellows would have murdered us. Come on; we have wasted too much time upon them, and shall have to borrow some hours from the night.” “ Yes, indeed; for we must go thirty miles to- day, in some way. It might have been as well had we stuck to the canoe.” “Perha s so: if the river were not so full of rapids. V e have to carry the canoe so much of the way after we reach the Cohoes.” The young scouts hurried their steps, and at night, when they could no longer see the path, camped by the side of a little stream, which ulti- mately found its way into one of the tributaries of the Mohawk. As they were in the midst of the Indian country, they did not light a fire, but satisfied their hunger with some jerked venison, which they carried in their )ouches. This done, Ben lay down to rest, an dreamed of Flora, while his brother, taking his rifle in his hand, stood guard. The hours stole silently on. Nothing was heard save the flap of the night-bird’s wing, or the or of the Icon 11 n the distant river. The low Wind sighing t rough the pine branches, had to Alph a pleasant sound. He had lived long in the woods, and knew its ways. To most readers, the situation would seem anything but pleasant; but;.to him, night in the woods was glorious. i. His thoughts reverted suddenly to Flora. What if the savages whom they had beaten should return to do her harm? He knew that they were powerless for the present; but he knew, also, that an Indian, intent on mischief, would not be long in finding friends in the forest. He looked down at the brother, sleeping so calmly at his feet, and his heart was full of ten- derness for him. The love of these two was more than brotherly, “ passing the love of women.” Perils shared bind men to each other, and they had faced death together often; so, tbs]; were true brothers. hat would he do, if the girl he loved suffered wron at the hands of the red fiends who had left t emii He knew their natures, and that, fertile in invention, they would be very apt to strike at them through Flora. Would this be their first movement, when they found help? He could not tell. Perhaps they would follow on his trail, hoping to do them some harm; he rather hoped that they would, than that they should return to the Mohawk. He was aroused from his reverie by hearing a stealthy, crawling sound—a rustling among the dry leaves of the forest. It was very dark in the spot where they had made their camp, and, al- though Alph peered carefully out into the dark- ness, he could see nothing. The sounds ceased, and he had almOSt persuaded himself that it was nothing but the wind, when it began again. $01119 animal, whose foot tell lightly, was mak- ing the circuit of the camp. Vain] his eyes sought to penetrate the darkness. be noise ceased again, and Alph could see two balls of fire gleaming out upon him, as the light of a fat- pine torch, with which he had provided himself, flashed u l in the gloom. The lig its disappeared, as the torch was light- ed, and a second after he could hear a sound, as if a body had struck the earth some distance away. There was no difficulty now. No beast of our American forest can move with such light- ning rapidity, except one; and that one, the American panther. He waited. The crawling noise was repeated, and the gleaming balls, which were the ages of the gian- ther, once more came in view. lph raise his rifle, and lowered it again, with a hesitatin motion. To gain time, he lighted another bran , and flung it at the beast. He disappeared with a short cry of rage and fear. “ Fight the devil with fire,” muttered Alph. “ I don’t like to shoot, for I fear the Indians are on our track. Ben?" His brother awoke with a start. “ Confound it; I have been dreaming, I guess. I thought I hehrd a. scream!” “ You did; the scream of a panther.” “ Where?” “Wait a moment, and you can see his eyes. There I” The flaming balls were in sight again, moving restlessly to and fro. “ What do you think we had better do, Ben?" “ Let him have it; if he leaps, I will give him mine.” “ But I think we are followed.” “ What, in our friends without guns? Precious little harm t ey can do us. Take him now.” “ VVnit. As soon as you are sure that the beast is dead, take my hand and let us run; for I am certain that the savages are coming up.” “What makes you think so?” “ I have heard calls given and answered, and all from one part of the woods. Depend upon it, they are upon our trail.” “You know best, Alph. Put on your pouch, while I‘ watch the painter. He is getting excit- ed, and may make 11 his mind to leap u 11 us.” Alph complied wit the request, and t en lift- ed his rifle and waited for a chance. At last the eyes became stationar ' for a moment, and then the rifle sent out a lea en messenger. An angry 01] told that it had reached its mark, and a huge ball shot out into the air, and struck 'the ground at the feet of Alph. His brother raised his rifle, but the voice of the other restrained him. “ Stay,” said be. “It was a sure shot. The beast is dead. Hold down the torch.” The bullet had entered between the eyes of the anther and passed completely through the ea . “’7A good shot in the dark,” said Ben. “ Come on. They joined hands and ran on for a mile. “ This will do,” said Alph. “ Let us stop." For some moments they waited in silence, and then, from the vicinity of their abandoned camp, a series of angry yells told that the scout was right. The savages already lmew that their prey had flown, ‘ M‘u. .‘ . N 7 i were them; 10 Sam’s Long Tmil.‘ “Push on ” said Ben. It‘ was seldom that the brothers were so hard pressed as to travel in the night, but upon this occasion they hurried on until the morning came gray in the east. Then they sat down, and artook of a hurried repast. ' It is needless to follow these adventurous men in their course to the upper waters of the Hud- son. They had gained so much upon their ene- mies by their night travel, that they were not able to come up with them. The fifth day out found them near the army of Dioskau, then camped a few miles from Crown Point, erfect— ing a plan for his attack upon the Englis posts. He had a large army, composed, however, for the most part, of Canadians and Indians. The latter were nearly all of the rest Huron or Wyandot nation, which remain faithful to the French, even as the Six Nations were to the English. The French commanders found them of great use in their battles. Too often they were not able to restrain their savage allies, though this could not be laid to the charge of Dieskau, CHAPTER IV. THE FRENCH CAMP. As a military nation. France has had no ual. The people have all acquired a taste for military glory, which makes them able soldiers, and this was shown in the management of Dies- kau’s camp. In the center stood the tents of the French regulars, tastefully laid out in squares. In the center of those, above a lar e marquee floated the great banner, bearing 1; e lilies 0 France, designating the tent of the baron. Through the intervals between the tents guards ced to and fro, having the erect bear-in of the trained soldier, saluting their officers as t ey passed with military precision. . Two young oiflcers were conversing in one of the squares, talking with the volubility peculiar to the Frenchman. “ What think you are the haron’s plans, Er- nest?" said one, in the gay uniform of anaide—de— cam . “ flow can I tell? The baron is close—mouthed about these things I tell you. I think, though, from what I have heard him say, that he means to attack Fort Edward.” 120! what use will it be to us when we take “ What do you mean?” “ Just what I say. When we have taken these forts in the woods, of what use are they to us “Zounds, man, on are crazy! After ,we have taken these ortp and Oswego, we have a perfect chain of posts to the very mouth of the rent river. We have confined the English to bat strip of country to the east of the moun- tains; we have all the trade of the West; and, in time. we shall SWeep the En lish into the sea.” “ Umph," muttered the at or. “ Very well to talk, but still I doubt the feasibility of the scheme. These confounded Iroquois are in our way more than the petty posts at Osw o and Edward, Once get them in ourintere ,aud' , work Will be'eaayi. Then it will do to talk gr sh into the sea,” “You oppose your opinion to that of the v \' baron.” ‘flhd you ever hear the baron express an opmfionwupon the subject?” S o. “The baron is a soldier of France. His em— peror says, ‘ Go,’ and he goes. He would not be a true soldier if he did not- bathe never said what he thought of the plan.’ _ “ For all that, I think he likes it.” “No, my word for it he does not. We are harassed by the scouts oi the English. We have no such force as the English think; and, taking all together, our attempt is hopeless.” “ Why 2” “ You will see to—night, in the council." “ Do you know anything?” “ Not ing that I will tell.” “ You are one of the council?” “Yes. All the officers will be present. Dies- kau does not disdain to take counsel from us, even though we are young. Ah, if Braddock had listened to subordinate otficers Fort Du Quesne might not have been ours today.” I v “ How know you that?” “ Some prisoners we took spoke of it, and our men know and fear the youn colonel who wanted to take the advance, one ashingfion by name—a brave man, and one who knows fight Indians.” “ Ah, indeed!” “ It is so. If this expedition comes to grief, it will be because we have so many Canadians and Indians with us. Let us go." The young officers rose, and passed into the n . , - . At night there was a. meeting of the ofllcers of the French forces. The expedition had been hastily planned by Dieskau; who had heard that but a small force was stationed at Fort Edward, and with French contem t for anything Engw lish, he had hastily left rown Point, With an army of twelve hundred Canadians and Indians, and only two hundred regulars. These numbers had been magnified by the Indian scouts of the' English into a great army, which was feared accordingly. In the mean time the English had been gathering a force, with the intention 01.111- vading the French provinces, far exceeding the command of Dieskau. As he neared the fort, the council above referred to was in session, “ We have met,” said the brave old baron, as the officers feund seats about the tent, “ to form some definite plan for our campaign. An blow we strike must be short, shar and dec - sive, or it will be of no avail. We Enow that the English have a greater force than we, but are sure that the garrison of this new fort upon, the Hudson 13 very small. In my opinion, we can take it.” . At this moment the chiefs of the Hurons en- tered. and took seats. The baron repea (1 his statement for their benefit. The h chief signified a tissue to speak. ' " ‘ Let the chief rise,” said Dieskau. ‘ , A brawny savage stood u , and stretched out" his hand in an unstudied an graceful attitude: v . , “ Let not my father be angry at the \ Words. The Barons are the‘friendsio he French. Many have died upon the war. good blows for my tether. They , ow to, .l i 3 is I '; zit-r; .sfifrbvaf - amaze-<1 GOUQ‘EfiKf-‘Efl l Sam’s Long Trail. 311‘ willing to fight still, but they are only men. The Hurons fight with bows and arrows. Since their fathers have come among them, they have learned to take a rifle in their hands. They can flght'well with these. But my young men come {to me and'say, we will not go up to the strong places of tho English. Their big thunder fills our hearts with dread. A manner has come in to say that the great Wigwam on the river is very strong. The Walls _are piled up to reach the treetops, and the big thunder is upon it. Our young men heard this. and they were afraid. They could not go on while such things fac'edthemi’ “Are my brothers cowards?” said the old baron, testily. “The Hurons are very brave,” replied the chief smiting his breast, “ but they fear the big thunder of the English. Let my father hear the \. words of our mouths. Other runners have come in, and they bring us great news. The army of the English is not far away, and they have left the big guns behind them. They could not draw them through the woods. We do not fear to fight with them. Let us go up agamst them.” ‘ The baron looked around the circle of grim -- , ' chiefs, and read in their faces an unconquerable i . v determination. Their fear of the cannon of the - , En lish had forced them to this determination, an the were willing to meet the superior forces 0 Johnson rather than the cannon at the , 9% .V _ fort. VVlnle they deliberated, an orderly came in with a paper. Dieskuu spoke to his officers, after looking it over. “ I hold in my hand,” said he, “a statement of our force. 6 have two hundred and fifteen regulars, five hundred and ten Canadian ran- gers, and seven hundred Hurons. Of this force , we can depend upon only the whites to stand up . nst cannon. With this statement, shall we proceed to the-attack of this fort?” The uestion was debated at some length. and it was nally decided to attack Johnson in his camp, as it was believed that he had no cannon, Having come to this conclusion, a bod of rang- ers commeneexl a road toward Fort E ward, the better to deceive the enemy, and the rest of the army prepared to march in the morning. The council broke up, and all the oiiicers left the V marquee. Searcer had they done so, when the ,. ' ' tent-cloth was lifted, and a man in the garb of a hunter, with a huge yellow beard covering the lower part of his face, entered, and possessed himself ot_ some papers, scattered upon the " table. This done, he departed as silently as he - came. He appeared to be a privileged character, for he joined a body of soloiers at one of the camp- J fires, laughing in a silly way at everything ' which was said. , “ By Jove I" said Ernest, who happened to be via, ,the group, “it is the same maul fellow who came to Crown Foint. I say, old fellow?” “"Wt. say, boy?” “Boy, mileedl What do you mean by calling me a boy?” ‘ I . . , . Both spoken: the mongrel dialect of the Can- adians, this. only One the mad hunter seemed to / :fi '4 dart. .V-W' M‘ :' “‘fN...4-u» -~ r;- 1 “ Thought you was a boy,” said the demented man. with a rhastly grin. “ Ain‘t you?" “ Pesto! am a on tain of the guard." “Oh. Glad you toh me. Used to have such a boy to hold my horse when I was a marquis. “ Oh, you were a marquis, then?” “I have been an emperor,” said he, assuming a dignified air. “ Ah. Your pardon, sire. Bow the knee, mon camarades, to your lord and master.“ All present did obeisnnce, as if he had been in truth what he claimed. “ Very well. You please me. You are duti— ful subjects. You, sir, shall he a baron, when-— you know enough, which will not be soon.” Ernest flushed to the roots of his hair. “ A murrain on the old boast. He is more knave than fool.” “ Right, right, Ernest. learned your character.” “ What do you mean by that, sir?” demanded the young captain, striding up to the spun} or. “ Nothing whatever, my dear Ernest. You are such a lire-eater that it won’t do to jest; with you. This man is a fool, after all, and has not rightly judged our young friend. We all agree with you.” There was something ner of the speaker. “Hal what have we here?” cried one young men. A party of Irdinns had come into the camp. Foremost amng them came Han-do, the young Mohawk who had been so roughly handled by the scouts. He was evidently in a hurry. As he came in sight, the mad hunter disappeared in the gloom among;r the tents. ‘ “ Take me to the war—chief,” cried Han-do. “ He has retired. I do not think you'can see him to—night." “ Mus’see him,” replied Haudo. “ Have you important information 3” “ Yes; go quick; tell him mus’ see him now.” One of the officers came up, and after hear— ing the request of the Indian, went to the baron’s tent. He found it in confusion, and his commander angrily directing a search for the missing documents. “ What have you lost?” ‘ “ Lost, sir! — everything.‘ My army, my honor, it those papers fin their way into the ~ hands of General Johnson. Join us in the search.” -’ “What los’, eh i" demanded Han-do. :: Papers of value.” ” - H 'SI‘Ia icing papers, oh? See how well he has provoking in the man- of the “Know who take them.” “Who?” cried the baron, turning suddenly upon him. u A“)th “Who is he?” “ Alph Armitage. Got a hrudder Ben. as bad as he. He take dem." “ An English scout?" U Yes.” I . “ How do you know he is in the camp?” r . “ Know he come to scout; t’ink he comeid , cam . Seen anylman in camp?” ,, / ' -“ be mad, hunmr—yes; but he i; ,_ Jus’ mgr}?! " _, w is revealed. 12 _ ' Sam‘s Long Trail. “ No he ain’t. Det‘s Alph.” “ Do you mean to tell me that ho is a spy?” “ Course I do.” . “ Order a search, Captain De Sayle. Be in haste. Have you seen this follow to—night, any of you?” ‘ Yes, sire. said the officer who had conducted Han—do to the tent. “ i saw him just as this In- dian came up, talking: with some of our monatu fire. He speaks the Canadian patois perfectly, whatever he may be.” “ Where did he go?" “ I did not notice, sire. the Indian.” “ Who are you?” said the baron, turning to the renegade. “ Han-do] Mohawk chief. Scout for Eng- lish. Use Hun—do bad. Come to French fader; work for him.” “ Then you wish to desert the English cause?” H Yes." “If your information, brought tonight, is true you have given us good reasons to think you indeed desire to serve us faithfully. Cup— tnin, that the fellow is brought to my pres- ence directly after he is taken.” “ I will do so, sire,” said the captain, leaving the tent. “ How did you know that this spy was coming here?” “ Follow him from Mohawk country. Try to kill him, but him catch me——whip Indian. Ah, 110"!” ‘he savage ground his teeth at the remem- bronco. A great tumult arose outside, and a. number of soldiers came into the tent, dragging along the mud hunter. He was pouring out upon them a perfect volley of French interjections, which caused the moment his e e rested upon Han-do. His form straightene up, Eroudly, au'l his eyes looked upon the traitor Wit a fiery glance of contempt. “ Take olf his board,” said the baron. One of the soldiers removed the mass of sh-ngy hair from the face of the prisoner, and the hindsome countenance of Alph Armitage The malignant face of Han-(lo *wzs full of joy. He knew the fete of men ca'lrrht in disguise in the camp of tho enemy. “ onsieur,” said the baron, bowing with stately grace, “ I have the honor to wish you a very good-evening. May I ask your business?” “ Ask that of these men who insisted upon my company although I had a. positive engagement in on opposite direction.” “ Ah, indeed! What barbarians! I can scarcelycredit that my men should be guilty of r so impolite an action.” “ But they have, though.” ' “ It is thought, monsieur, that you have made free with certain articles belonging to me. Now, I should be happy to give» you any thing I was occupied with in reason, but, really—” “ You wi‘h them yourself. It is a pleasure . to do anything for a gentleman. I return them to you, since they can be of. no further useto -me Elan-do approached him, and hissed his vindic- tive fury torthllnwords: . 9' 05 011 an Englishman, what did you look , Umph; do not make 12W) large, Ea for when you struck a chief like u. hound? Did you think the flesh of an Indian like that of o. red-coat? Only your blood shall wash away this stain. You will~die, and I shall look upon it. I shall hear you groan, and your brother shall know that you are dead.” ' “Take him out of my sight,” said Alph, an- grily, “or I shall kill iim where he stands.” “ Go away, Hun—do," said Dieskau- “ Do not harass a prisoner in this way.” During this colloquy, Alph had been stand- ing but a. few feet trom the tent door. There was no hope of escape, but he wished to com— municate his misfortune to Ben, who awaited his return not for off. Making a sudden spring, he was in an instant outside the door of the tent, when he lifted his hands to his lips, and uttered a sharp, shrill cry. The sole diers seized him, and dragged him back into the tent. ' . “ Was that a signal?” demanded the baron. “ Yes, sire, that was undoubtedly a signal.” “ And to whom?” “ I decline to unswer.” . "It is needless. I shall find out who‘ll: is. Order the Indians into the woods, Captain De Suylc, and tell them to bring whoever they find into my presence at once.’ “If you find him,” said the scout, with a. chuckle. “ As he is expecting you he will prob ably not wait.” , ‘ Take him to the guard-tent,” said the baron, “and watch him well. We shall see about this. Of what material do the English think us? Young man, you are over bold.” “ It don’t matter,” said Alph. “ I have done my duty.” After he,was gone, Dieskau called Ha,u»do,, and sent him on an embassy. Knowing that'he had come out as a spy for the 'English. and that they did not know of his disaffection, be was able to form his plan, which succeeded admirably. Han-do found General Johnson in his tent, surrounded by his able officers. Conspicuous among them was General Lyman. who was un- usually beloved by his soldiers; Colonel Ephraim Williams, of Massachusetts, than whom a. braver ' man never drew the sword; Hendrick,,'the. ta,- mous Mohan chief, who had led his wmiorsto the aid of the English: while, lower in grade, and thus early showin the qualities which made them famous in after imcs, were Israel Putnam and John Stark, who fought under the flu of England, one as captain, the other use. fien- tenant. » , >- The renegade was admitted at once. They had no idea. of his turning traitor, so soon after he had returned to them. “ Ah, Han-do,” said J ohnsmi, eagerly, “ I am glad to see you. W hot news from the French?” “ Hon-do has been upon their trail,” replied the young chief. “ He has learned the plans of the French." ‘ “Well, well, sir, your news; do not..ka us ‘ ugh to Edward.” “ Can you count the leaves of the’forestlj», ’ waiting.” ' . “ They are cutting roads thro “ Have they a large army?” you number the pigeons as they fly?» If ' can you can count the warriors of theErm ” ' “mum-Qua van ...r-..._: ' We shall not know how much to believe. You so. that the French are cutting roads toward ward?” u Yes. 3‘) “And in large force?” “ Yes" ‘: Have they any French soldiers?” L “Colonel Williams, what do you think had best be done?" “ It looks, sir, as if Edward were in danger. ' If such is the case, we must send men to its re- ‘ lief.” ,- “ Will you lead men to its defense?” “,Willingly, sir, only I would not take from , General_Lyman what seems his by right.” “General Lyman will doubt ess waive his claim, as I desire him to stay with me. Call out a detachment of twelve hundred men, and march ‘to the relief of Edward. Take Hendrick with you, and a few of his warriors. as you may need them. Be circumspect in your movements.” “I will give a good account of them if they meet me. Shall I have Han—do as a guide?” “ He may go with you.” A leam of savage joy came into the eyes of the ndian. He was about to make his revenge perfect; Thedeceptiou of J ohnson wusconipleto. Williams was not long in making his prepara— tion and was soon marching gnyly out to tho . relio of Edward, with a thousand men, and two hundred Mohawks, at whose head stalked the fearless chief, Hendrick, his Wampum and feathers making him a mark for the bullets ot‘ the enemy. Han-do guided them straight into the trap Dieskau had prepared for them. No date seem- ed better fitted as a slaughter-pen for rave men. On one side,a thick forest,interspcrsn d with rocks, furnished shelter for a part of the enemy. Upon ‘ the other. a dark and almost impenetrable swamp concealed nearly all the rest, while only a few ' lurked in their front. v’ Not a shot was fired as the column came into the ambush. Then a leaden hail was poured in upon them, that made the front rank seem to 3 $6.M» 3—” a... M... . Hendrick. the indomitable chief, fell dead in the . bloody defile. His men, disheartened, gave we. at once. The English pressed on, forcing bac ’ _ the small body in their front, while that Wither- » ’ing fire was kept up from every side. Alph, , marching in the center of the reangnard of the ijrench, understood by their conversation that ,theEnglish were led into a trap, and were being slau htcred like sheep. . l “ y heavens!” he matte Du Quesne.” “ You are right," said a French officer at his elbow. “When will the English cease to run into such traps?" “ We have seen the head chief of the Mohawks ’ fall,” said a courier, riding back. “The Hurons say it is Hendrick. He was shot by one of his ’ 'ow'n tribe, who knew him, and took ood aim.” .“My God!” murmured Alph, “w at ablow to our cause.” ‘ , Another courier came in. “ Williams is down; they are retreating. ansh on. everyman we have, and we shall be the Waters.” , “ this is another Sam’s Long Trail. ' ‘ t sink into the earth. At the first discharge; i . t Alph struggled with his bonds. If he could have freed his hands, he would have attempted escape, surrounded as he was by his guards. But his clforts were in vain. “ You waste your strength, young man,” said the oflicer in charge. “ quwt.” In the moon tune the victorious column of the French was pushing on. the regulars cheering, and the mad yells of tho Canadians Land Indians pealing out upon the air. Johnson heard them, and he knew what it meant. Williams was beaten, and was retreating, that was very plain. There was little time to lose, and the axmen were set hastil to work felling trees to form a breastwork. rum and trumpet, unaccustomed sounds, rung out upon the clear September morning. Companies and regiments hurried to and fro, seeking the station assigned them. The master hand of the gallant Lyman soon placed the mass in order, and they were ready for the assault. A few cannon, received that very day from Ed— ward, were placed in position upon the rude breastworks. Soon the fugitives came in sight, beaten and disheartened, and swept through the English lines into the camp. Scarcer had they passed by the guns, and reached a position in tho (renter of the works, when the excited force of the French and Indians came in sight, hotly pressing the pursuit. Then the thunder of the cannon woke the echoes of the forest, and the Indians, awed by the unwelcome sound, and frightened by the missiles which came plunging through the Woods, cutting down branches of the trees, and plowing up the ground on every side, fell slowly back to the edge of the woods, from which they did not advance during the fight, but kept up an ineffectual fire at long range. The regulars, who knew no such word as re- treat, unmindful of the fact that they were left alone to battle against fearful odds. stood up to the work, exposing their breasts to the fire of the enemy’s cannon, with a determined bravery that won respect even from enemies. And when the brave two hundred had nearly all fallen, after five hours’ desperate battle. the French began to retreat. Then the English left their breastworks, and in turn became the pur- suers. Dieskau had been twice wounded, but the brave man never left his post. His soldiers, who loved him as a father, attempted to on him from the field. While doing this. one of his bearers was struck down by a ball, and the baron begged the other to fly, as he could be of no use to him. Through the remainder‘of the fight, he sat upon the s ump of a tree. while the bullets flew thick about him, and waited for the end. It is said, but the story is not fully vouch- ed for, that while in this position, the brave commander was seen and fired on bi an English soldier, while feeling for his Watc , the other supposing him to be in search of apistol. ' that as it may, he was taken prisoner, and died in the hands of the English. ' 7 Early in the fight General Johnson was slight- 1y wounded, and retired to a safe position, when the. command devolved upon General Lyman. The Work was left in good hands, and the vic- tory, after-all, .was‘ There are those who. I' . ' - Sam’s Long Trail. say that the actions of Johnson, in regard to Lyman, Were ungenerous in the extreme, and that he was never mention «1 in the dispatches. General Johnson himself was knighted for this victory. and was known in colonial history as Sir William Johnson, and showed himself a cool. wary and subtle man, whom the Indians loved. To him, more than any other, the friends ship of the Six Nations to the English is due. In the retreat, the French carried back their prisoner. From time to time he tried to escape, but the eyes of his captors were upon him, with a fierce determination that he should not elude them. The regular officers were gone, and he was in the hands of the partisan leaders, more cruel, if such a thing could be, than the savages tlumselves. They determined to be revenged Upon him. At night they camped near a small lake, or pond, in the forest. A mock trlul was given to Alph, and he was condemned to die. He was asked to stand up and speak for himself, as he had but a few moments to live. He rose slowly. “ You ask me to say what I have to say, and then prepare to die. It is a hard thing for one so young to die, and I am but mortal. Yet I do not repine at my fate. One thing only irks In). and that is, that I did not kill that red renegade, Han-do, when I had him in my pow- er. What is it to me, the manner in whiehl die? I have served my country faithfully, and di‘) in her service. I leave a. brother, who will even-g) mo, anl do much harm yet to the villains who murder me. If you have hearts, let him know how I die. That is all I have to say.” As he finished, a light, active form burst through the circle around him, and in an instant cut his bonds fro'n his arms, placing a. hatchet in his ban 1:. Tue Canadians started back, anuzed. Th 3y ha'l never seen the two brothers together, and the strange similarity appalled than. Before they had recovered from their surprise, the twin scouts had disappeared in the woods. All this had passe'l like a lightning—flash, and nothing was left where Alph had stood but the severel bonds, anl the ghastly body of a man who hail tried to stay them in their course and had been cloven do ,vn by Ben, with a. single blow. An angry roar in the camp had scarcely begun, when out of the surrounding Woods a regiment dashed upon them. A force of New Hampshire boys, coming up from Edward, had been led by Ben to the spot where the enemy Were camped. The surprise was complete, and the rout total. Without an elfort at fighting, they broke, and scattered through the woods, pursued by the stalwart provincials, with yells of triumph. The, batt10_WaS over, and the next dav was 8991,13 In burymg the dead, and laying the foun— dfltlou Of a new wooden fort, upon the ground where the battle was fought. The brothers did not care to stay for such Work, and the general was w11hng to let them go for a While. Next day they started on their return to the Mohawk gountry, to keep their appointment with Middle- on They traveled slowly, as they had no idea of danger for the Middletons. It is a. long mureb from Fort William Henry to the Cohoes, and they were in no hurry. There was much for the brothers to say to each other, since one had been so near death, and many hours were spent ldhn upon sunny slopes, and telling What they had ( one while separated. Ben had hung about the French army, night and day, after he heard the signal from his brother, telling him that he was taken, and had used every artifice to get in— to the camp. But the Indians were on the alert and it was impossible to approach Without be- ing seen. The opportunity at the pond was too good to be lost, and he had rescued him, though at great peril to himself. They had plans, too, to arrange for the safety of the Middletons. The campaign was now ful~ 1y opened, and they knew the French would not rest until they had wiped out the stain of tl.eir defeat in some manner. The country, in the mean time, would be full of hostile Indians. and no frontiersman would be at all safe. They concluded that it was best for the family to re- move to Albany, until the storm had passed over, and then return to their farm. They had just arrived at this conclusion, when they came out of the woods, into the clearing surrounding Middleton's dwelling. The beautiful plantation was a scene of the most appallingr desolation. House, negro nar- ters, barns, everything combustible, had een swept by the fire-demon. A smoke rose slowly from the still-smoldering ruins. The brothers rushed eagerly into the opening. As they pass- ed along, they saw the marks of m'iny moccasin— ed feet upon the earth, and knew that this was the work of the Indians. “My God I” cried Benz striking his forehead with his clinched hand, ‘ they are gone." They madethe circuit of the dwelling. Al was chaos and confusion. Charred doors, bat- tered casoments, threshold hnlf—consumed, told a sad tale: and, a little away from the house, drops of blood, and a great, dark stain upon the green grass, told that perhaps here some soul had yielded up the host. Who had done this? ndians, they were sure. Frotn what source had they come, and whither had they fled, their fell work being accomplish- ed? They had but one thought, and that was to follow and avenge the fallen. Who had die-,1? Was the brave and chi valrous Middleton no more? Had Flora. ceased to live? They ask- ed themselves the question, but the smoking ruins gave them no reply. All at once, the ruins above the cellar began to heave and tremble. The brothers leaped to— ward the spot. Charred rafters flew aside, fallen bricks were displaced, and a round black head and ponderous shoulders were thrust up through the rubbish. It was the giant negro, Big Sam. “Help here!” he cried. They set to work, and aided him to come out of the hole. His hands were tightly b0und; his face scarred with knife-cuts. He had not been a coward. They sat down, and at the request of the bro— thers, he told the story of the assault. CHA—fifi—R v. BIG slurs STORY. “ ’TAIN’T like I kin tell it jist as ye w’u’d hub merging: 1' Aneam ~uieruwsucr , ._'. Sam’s Long Trail. “Keep 01f dar, you,” shouted Tiny. “Ef I git to ye ’gi’n, you’s dead.” , The savage rushed at him. Two or three sprung to interpose, but they were (no late. Flora gave poor Tiny up for lost, bound as he was: but to her surprise, as the savage came Within reach, one of his brood feet was lifted, and planted with prodigious force directlyin the spot upon which the 11 ‘:id had alightcd hcfore. Again the Indian rolled upon the sod, l'ollowed ‘oy the jeers of the negro, coupled with those of his comrades. “ Tek’ him ’way,” cried Tiny. “Tek’ away de poor Chile. I kin lick him wid my lum‘s tied ’hind 0’ me, bof ol) ’dem. Shoo! you goose. “Hills for you try to fight wid me? I has to lnrf, ehery time I tlink how he roll oher. Now, see her you,” said he, as the savage prepared to attack him again. “ I tell you fa’r (lat ef you comes at me ng’in, I’s goin’ to kill you. You ain’t my size, but you’s fight wid u hatchet, and jist as live kill a feller us not. G’way, you, w’ile times is good, else you’s get hurt.” The savage never minded the caution, but ad- vanced carefully upon his enemy, taking great care to be out of the reach of his ponderous heel. He had a WhulCSl)lllO dread of that for- midable instrument, and circled round the ne- gro, seeking to dash in, and take him oil" his gu'u‘d. Tiny kept turning about, as if upon a pivot, and harnnguing the follow all the time. “ New, ain’t you a pretty ehjic', Injin? Yer n )siE—l nebhcr (lid see sich a nose—reach a1— m at up to me, un’ I can’t reach you wid my heel. Takes mighty good car’ you does, to keep yer h'mdsome pusson away from me. Some ob v )u fellers see fa’r. Ef I had my han’s free, I it ukl tek’ hol’ ob yer nose an’ pull it—would, too, 1 int. Why don’t yer pitch in? Don’t yer see d-it you’s a—keepiu’ (16 present cump’ny all dis ti-ne a—waitin’yerconwenience? Hurryup. Ef yuo’s goin’ ter do anyt’ing, say so." During; all this time, it might be observed that Tiny, who delighted in a light more than any Irishman who ever graduated at Donnybrook Fair, was gradually lessening the distance be- trveen himself and his enemy; and, Just as he finish: 1, he lowered his head, and dashed at the I'lLllull with a sudden oil, which put him com- pletely elf his guill‘d. e. struck at him wildly with the tomahavk, but it was knocked from his hand, and the hard hen/l again found rest be- low the Invliun’s diaphragm. Tiny did not al— low him to rise this time, but, setting his foot uoon his chest, he threatened him with instant dinth if he attempted to get up'. The Indian, 11 )wover, watching,r his opportunity, suddenly wriggled from under the huge l not of the negro, an 1 springing to his feet, fled beyond his reach, followed by the jeers of his companions. The march being resumed, the bellicose darky omitted no words which he hoped might exas- perate his captors. No harsh epithet, no taunt. which human ingenuity could devise, was left unspoken. At every step he shouted out some- thing which had just occurred to him, as a good thing to “ make ’em mad. \ It is not in the savage nature to bear all this contumely without getting angry, and when they camped for the night, he attempted to take his revenge. The negroes had been bound to )7 small trees. and left in this position for the night. This mode of taking his rest was not at all agreeable to Tiny, and he at once commenced working his arms up and down, hoping to free them from their bonds. Provcrhiully adepts in the art of binding prisoners, the hands of the Huron were very tight, as poor Tiny found after much painful labor. They were made of strong rreen withes, from some tree near at hand. l’lis arms were drawn around the hody of the tree. and firmly secured in that position at the wrists. Another withe was then passed about his body, and tied behind the tree. Altogether, it was about as tight a hitch as human ingenuity could devise. But Tiny was of a. sanguine temperament, and continued his cil'orts to free his hands. Moving them us before, they came in contact with a sharp knot upon the body of the tree. Twisting his wrists in a. painful manner, he managed to get the withes upon this knot. He worked vigorously, keeping an eye upon the guard, who leaned against a tree a few paces away. After hard labor, his zeal was rewarded by feeling one of the withes drop from hls wrist. Taking courage, he sawed away vigorously, and had the satisfaction of feeling the cords drop off entirely. Catching them before they could fall, nnd keeping his eye still upon the guard, he waited an opportunity for placing them between his bank and the tree, where he could get them, in case the guard’s suspicions were aroused. That individual, smoking placidly, never re- moved his eyes from the person by the tree, having no thought, although so watchful, that the bonds were off his hands. It was not the intention of the negro to esmpe. He simply removed the withes in a sort of bra- vado, to show the savages that he did not care anything about them, and would not wear cords of their tying. He now turned his attention to the bond about his waist. The knot of this being on the other side of the tree, he was forced to trust to the sense of feeling, and mi ght he drawing: the knot tight instead of untying it. But, working with dogged perseverance, he at last touched the clew, and unloosed the knot. He was now entirely free, and looked stealthi— ly about him. His savage captors lay sleeping, with the exception of the guard over each prisoner. The care of An-ga—wnm had furnish— ed Flora with a sort of hut, formed from hem- lock boughs, under which she lay sleeping. The chief himself lay stretched across the doorway of this hastily improvised shelter, so that she could not pass out without disturbing him. 'liny’s chivalrous admiration of Miss Flo’, and his devotion to her interests, would have ke t him from escaping Without her. and he on y studied in what manner he could create the most disturbance in the cam . , While he deliberated. the guard was changed, and to the surprise of Tiny, the fellow Whom he him treated so roughly, went upon guard in his p ace. , The thought never entered Tiny’s head that the f ellow meant mischief to him, but he watch- ed him, drawing the withe behind him, so that he could not see the ends. l “RN r—r-Hm o «ran-s: #5:; a}: n—bAMH Fr UUérO"! Sam’s Long Trail. 19 The savage, with the untiring patience of his race, stood quietly at his post for over half an hour, while the negro, who could think of noth- ing to do, just yet, and who was in no hurry to resume his bonds, eyed him closely. After a time, the guard peered cautiously about the camp, and saw that all was uiet. Then he took a hatchet from his belt, and 00k— ed at Tiny. The negro stared. What could the fellow mean? He was stealing cautiously toward him, held« inf,r the hatchet behind him. In an instant the truth flashed through his brain that the. savage meant to murder him, in return for his ill—treat- ment in the morning. With admirable presence of mind, he kept his hands behind him, and Watched the approach of his enemy. He came close to him, and seeing that his eyes were closed, stopped to look at him before he struck. “Aha! black man,” he hissed; “now me kill you!" To his surprise, the hand of the negro sudden— ly darted at him, and seized him by the throat. Such was Tiny’s vise-like grasp, that he could not cry out; he could only flounder helplessly in the arms of his enemy, and look savagely into his face. Tiny took the hatchet out of his hand, and threatened him with instant death if he dared to move. Divesting him of the head- dress which he wore, he )laccd it on his own head, and slipping away mm the tree, bound the savage in his place, taking care to gag him effectually. This be accomplished by tying a small piece of cord about a. short stick, thrust- ing it into the Indian’s mouth, and tying it be— hind his ears. When sure that he was tightly bound, he re— treated to a little distance, looking at him with a grin. Taking up the arms of the discomfited warrior, he returned to his station at the other tree, looking over the camp with the greatest nonchalance. After enjo ing his position as long as he cared to, he star down toward the camp-fire, and turning his feet toward it, lay down to enjoy the pleasant warmth. He soon forgot his troubles, and was off for the land of Nod. He slept until daybreak, and was aroused by the yells of the savages, who had just discovered their comrade, bound to the tree, in place of the prisoner he had been left to guard. The negro rolled lazily over on his side, and surveyed the grou around the tree. The savage who had slept y him had leaped up in haste, and did not notice who was left at the fire when the alarm sounded. “Wish dey’d kill dat debble,” said Tiny, s- sossing himself of a piece of venison, which ad been left upon a stone by one of the savages, and beginning to roast it over the fire, tearing off a piece as soon. as it became brown, for he feared that the Indians would interrupt him in his re— ‘- past. He was progressing famously, when An- ga—wam, who was rst to see the negro bending over the fire, sprung at him, and seized him by the arm. ' “What you do here?" he demanded, furiously. “ Cook my hreakfuss. Jes’ you lemme go." An-gaiwam did not comply, and the DPL’I‘O butted him over without ceremonyl rolling him headlong to the earth, with a sharp cry of rage and pain. He was up in a moment, whirling a hatchet in the air. But the negro still held the arms of his enemy of the nighthefore, and grasp— ed the gun in both hands, meeting the rush of his adversary by a thrust with the stock, which sent him to mother earth, minus two of his front teeth. By this time he had recovered from his first burst of an 'er, and instead of rushing at The iie« gro again, e kept back The crowd of Indians who were swarming about like lees, and told the negro to lay down the gun and submit to be bound. “ Shall I, Miss Flo’?” cried the negro, looking toward his mistress, who had emerged from the tent, and was watching the procredings. “ Say (16 word, an’ I go free ’em 1i (e lightiiiu’. 1 will dat.” “ You had better surrender,” replied Flora. He at once threw down his arms and submit- ted to be bound. In the mean time, a piece of stern justice was wrought upon the would-be murderer of Tiny. He was examined, and it was proved against him that he had attempted to kill the prisoner, and in doing so, miserably failed, and had put the safety of the camp in jeopardy. He was doomed-not for the attempt, for they thought it no more than just that he should revenge himself upon the negro—but for the failure, and its results. He was taken into the woods, tomahawked, and a pile of stones laid above him. They now hurried their march, and put an— other guai'd over the irrepressible negro, who continued to express his supreme contempt for the whole united Huron nation. They came in sight of the Huron village at last. They had ascended a broad slope, and reached the most elevated point of a lofty ridge, when one of the captors touched Flora on the arm, and pointed downward. There lay the vil— lage, nestling down among the trees, by the side of a shining lake. It was a cluster of rude lodges, laid out in regular order, with a broad, vacant space in the center. Looking downward, though the place was six or seven miles away, so uninterrupted was the downward grade that the figures of men and animals could be made out by a pair of sharp eyes. From the place Where they stood to the village, the land descended iii a gentle slope, and the short, green turf, the pleas- ant lake, the distant village, formed together one of the most beautiful seenes in nature. Flora, prisoner though she was, could not but he struck with the beauty of the landscape. The band expressed their joy in short exclainations, and by that lighting up of the faces which ap- pears upon the countenance of every creature, when nearing home after a long absence. “These creatures.” she thought, “who never shudder at the shedding of blood, who would not hesitate to burn a captive at the stake, who de— light in acts of torture, are joyful at the prospect of returning home. Shall I ever see home and friends again? Will Benjamin ever know what has been my fate?” , _ She fell into a reverie, from whlch she did not. rouse till the shouts of the villagers, swarming out to meet them, told her that they were draw- ing near to the village. They entered the broad .x‘oc space in the center, surrounded by a. motley crowd of women and children. The old men, who had been left in the village, stood before the tents, calmly waiting for the young men to alight, before they welcomed the leaders of their defenders home. An—ga-wam was first to alight, and came up to the chief with uncovered head, “ My young brother is come.” said an aged patriarch of his race; “ what does he bring?” “ The young men have been upon the war~ path, and have taken many sculps. They have taken prisoners, too, and they are before you.” “ I see a young squaw among the prisoners. Let her be made welcome." “ \‘Vhere is Mo—rah?” “ She is within the Wigwam.” “ Mo-rah is here,” said asilvery voice. “ that would the war-chief have with her?” “ Let her ask the white maiden to alight, and make her welcome to the Wigwam. She has come a long distance, and is tired." Merah turned to obey, and as Flora heard her voice, she looked down in wondcrupon the bean- tiful girl who addressed her. Among the Indians there are few beautiful women, whatever may be said to the contrary. But when we find one who can lay claim to it, it is beauty of no com— mon order. Me—rah’s face was a perl'ect Grecian in its outline, with long, midnight masses of hair, which. Without a :url or wave, swept half-way to her feet. Eyes of a liquid tenderness at times, dark, and full of a passionate iire«~such a beauty might have been looked for among the children of the sun, the Aztecs. Such a one might Mari- anna have been, the Aztec love of Hernando Cortez. “ Let the white girl descend,” said she, “ and follow Me-rah into the lodge. She is very wel- come to the lodges of the Hurous.” Flora obeyed the request, and stood within the lodge, which was rudely decked with barbaric ornaments. Soft couches, formed of the skins of wild hoists, seemed to invite repose. Flora sunk down upononeof these with nsighof relicl'. “ The white girl is weary,” said Me—rah. “ Let her rest and be content. Me-rah will not trouble her now.” She passed from the Wigwam; and Flora, ly- ing back among the soft skins, was soon obliv— ious to all outward things. How long she slept she could not tell, but when she awoke, the sweet face of Me rah bent above her, and her soft Voice asked, kin'lly: “ H‘IS the white girl rested well?” “ Very well, thanks to you. Have you watched by me while I slept?” “ Yes; the old chief has said to Me-rah: ‘Take thou the white girl; let her be thy charge} ” “ I am lad they have given me into your keeping. on will be a kind jailer. I have been dreaming.” “ Were the dreams of the ‘ Pleasant Voice’ good?” Flora had been named by the band, in their romantic fashion, the “ Pleasant Voice. ” “ I dreamed I was at home again, among those who loved me, and I awoke full of hope.” “ Home is good," said ll/IPJ‘élh. in such pure English that Flora was astonished, and asked, . quickly: Sam’s Long Trail. “ How did you’ learn to speak my language?" “It will be a long story to tell, but if the white girl wills it she shall bear it. ” “ I should love it; it will serve to pass away the time." “ It was many years ago, when the spa; were white upon the mountains, and Tim,- was a little child. She was an Indian; Sn ,. an Indian heart, and could shout with the . :. when the warriors brought home scalps. The white girl might have seen, this day, tr j, ' came not out with the rest to meet the warn; That is because my heart is soft; it is sad for me to see scalps; to look upon the prisoners they bring with them. I think that some new home h is been made desolate, some father has lost a. son, some mother wee s for a child; and so I came not forth, until saw your face through the curtain. My heart went out to meet yours; I loved you, and wished you to come into my lodge. The chief called me, and I came.” Flora let her hand rest in that of the beautiful Indian girl, and the story went on. “ I said it was long ago, and the winter was cold. The ice on the river was very thick; the crust on the drifts hard; the snow-shoes hardly lett a track. One day the hunters went out with their sledch after the moose. They found a white man freezing at the root of a tree; but he lived, and we loved him when we knew him. I was a. little child, and came to look upon him. He was an Englishman, who had been wronged by his people. and had fled away and come to live among us. “ We gave him a place in our lodges, and named him the ‘ Withered Oak,” because he had lived his life awav from the place Where his roots were When he came among us he brought with him a book. VVeuld you like to see it?” “ Yes,” said Flora. She went to the corner of the lodge, and from a deep box took a book, which she gave to Flora. with reverent hands. “ I‘ho ‘ Holy Book,’ ” she whispered. Flora took it. One of those cumbrous edi- tions of the Holy Scriptures which the London press at that time published. Flora. turned to the fly-leaf and read: , “I, John Lambert, flving from the persecution of mine own people, have found rest amougap’eo 1e who, while they worship the One God, know not t o Christ. Among these will I die.“ _ Flora, while she held that book in her hands, dreamer] what kind of a 1113.11 this might be. Some stern, uncompromising Christian, who could not brook the vanities which were creep— ing into his own church, and who left all behind him, and plunged into the untrodden Wilderness, with his Bible in his hand. “ Tell me more of this man," said She. “ I learned to love him; he read to me_ from the book taught me how to understand it, and how to love it. He taught me the language of your people, and then he taught me how to read the book. I believed It. and from that time I take no delight in blood.” “ Is he dead?” , “ Two years ago we made him a grave on the slope, and he sleeps ,Dymg. he gave me the book, told me to guard It as my life, love it and i n I“ _ MA“ I M¢~._ e?” ' the Wily no; _ "Kw—N Sam’s Long Trail. 7, 21 obey it. I try to do so. And I, who am a prophetess among my people, can do much good.” ~Here was a marvel, and Flora looked’ upon Aff-autiful girl in amazement. A Christian, about "the relics of a barbarism of the sternest Tbei. " Had Flora known the impressrble nature or ’tne Indian, she would not have wondered so much. V "2 two spent some pleasant hours together, taming of past and present events, and of the sad fate of the friends of Flora. From her she learn— ed that Han—do and An—ga-wnin were not mem— bers of the tribe, but renegade Mohawks. That they were brave in battle, and broughthomc many scalps, and for that found favor 111 the eyes of the people. That she, as prophctcss, was able to countermand many of their cruel orders; and that Hau~do hated her, while An-ga-wam wanted to make her his wife. This she had steadily refused, and An-ga—wam had no power to enforce his wishes. But he had sworn, when he Went on his last expedition, that he would find a way to break her pride, and make her his own. He had never been true to the English, Whom he hated fervently. After this, Flora knew why Alph had said that he would yet be false to the English. CHAPTER VII. UNDER THE BAN. THE rescue party, with untiring patience, had followed the trail of the Indians, and stood upon the summit of the ridge looking down into the Indian village. There it lay, the place that held their treasure. “ She’s dar, she is,” said the giant. “ Dey’vo got my boy, too, Tiny. ’Spec’s (1th Chile gibs dem heaps ob trouble, I does. I h’ars him when 1’s 8. lyin’ on de floor ob de house, callin’ on seberal of do ’ison snakes to step out and fight him, an‘ dey assen’t do it, nohow.” Alph, knowing the irascible nature of Tiny, smiled as he thought how that acute youib would bother the Indians. “ We must find a place to hide,” said Alph. “ As it may be some weeks before our plans are fully carried out, it will not do for us to loiter about here, without having some secure hiding- lace. Let us go further up the mountains. hose hills are full of holes, and it will go hard but, we shall find one large enough to burrow in.“ They passed up the mountain. Huge bowl- dcrs lying on the spot to which they had been hurled, hemmed them in on every side. The course they timk led them in an oblique direc— tion toward the Village, and they had lighted yet upon no place which suited their fancy. As they were Pat‘smg through a defile between two lofty clilfs, the attention of_ Alph was called to a small circular opening _n. little way up the face of one. Cliuging by hls hands and feet, he reached the mouth of the opening and looked in, All was dark and silent as the grave- “This looks like the very place We want, Ben," said he. “Get a knot from that pitch- pine there and light it, if you can. I have a mi id to explore this place.” A fallen pine, partially decayed, gave them a torch 11.; a QOent, for itwas the fat-pine used so often for that purpose. Lighting this, Alph led the way, and soon found himself in a small cavern, with a large opening upon the other side, through which the sunlight poured freely. Throwing away the torch, when they found it of no further use, they contfhued the march along the edge of the. mountain ridge, finding that the path they now pursued led them nearer the village. About a mile further on, upon the spur of the hills nearest the village, they found a secure hiding-place. It was approached only by a rugged path, and they could overlook the vil- lage, which lay, us it seemed, at their very feet. There was a great stir among the Indians. Squaws were hurrying to and fro, bringing bundles of sticks, and stopping to peer z t some one who “"aS partially concealed behind a lodge. He was soon led out by a couple of stout war— riors, and tightly bound to a stake. The war— riors began to come out in scattered groups, in— dulging in their rude games. Their whoops could be heard by the watchers on the hill. The person who was bound to the post was our fighting friend Tiny, who was gesticulating, in a warlike manner, and inviting the whole tribe to “ come on, only to fight fa’r.” The watchers looked on with great interest. As yet, they could not make out the design of the captors. It looked like torture, but of what kind they could not guess. After a while each warrior provided himself with a stick, and they fell into a double line, with an open space about six feet wide in the center. “ \Vhat are the rascals at?” asked Ben. “ It is a. gantlet, [think I wonder who will run?” “I don’t know. fun.” “Yes it is a gantlet, and they are forming in two ines. Here come the prisoners. Poor lads, they never knew what trouble was on Mid-- dleton’s plantation. Just look at Tiny; he walks as though he were head chief of the tribe.” “Dar’s my boy, dar’s Tilly,” said the giant, eagerly, a look of fatherly pride making his black face comely. “He tek’ car” of heself, I bet. Jest see how dem Injins keep away from him. Dcy’s ’fraid ob dem fcet, (Icy isl” One of the chiefs had placed himself in front of Tiny. and was explaining to him the princi— ple of the gantlet. It was plain that they look- ed for trouble from the stout young negro, for they made their line very strong, and every one ' was on the alert. At a given signal Tiny was freed from his bonds, and manifested his delight by sundry leaps into the air, cracking his heels together, crowing and laughing. The savages evidently did not know what to make ofa fol- low who could enjoy “ running a muck.” The signal was repeated, and Tiny, with a. single bound, remhed the first of his enemies. Right and left flew the Indians, butted by the unimpressible head. Tomahawks and clubs cracked upon it, without any visible effect, and still he sped on. Once in a while he would ause, and send out his huge foot, leveling an udian 1n_ the dust. Cries of rage and pain marked 1115 progress. In all their history, the If it is Tiny, look out for “m... m wfiww ,..._ f p... . ‘xi °’P’®7€Wr¢tmerv” ‘ x 2.0! Sam’s Long Trail. Indians had never found a. man who could in- flict such damage receivin none in return. “See durl” cried Bi am. “Look a) dam In'in fly. 011, Tiny, do. 3 a good one. Butt him ng in! You’s a chilo after you fader‘s own heart, on is. Oh, do Lord, dar he goes ag’iu, knocks em right un’ lef’, jest as ef ey was so many sticks, Dey’ll be careful how dey meks he ‘ run a muck’ ag’in. By gosh. he’s runnin’ away.” This was the truth. Tiny had evidently tired of the societ of the Huron Villa 0, and no soon- er had he (3 cured tho lines of t c gnntlct, and was expected to return, than he plied his heels in a. desperate attempt to escape. He was a mighty runner, and used his feet well. The best men among the savages had placed them— selves first, in order to get the first blow at the negro. Those hal fared badly enough in the flight of that worthy, being tumbled ignomini— ously upon the grass. When they attempted to follow the runner, they found their Course im-_ peded by n. mingled group of women and chil- dren, and could make but slow progress. Tiny knew what he W1; about and was mak- ing direct] for the horses, pickcted u )on the reonswan , a. hundred yards away. hashing Into their midst, he tore up the luriat whic bound the flootest among them, and leaping up- on him, dug,r his heels into his sides, turned his head to the mountain, :1 11:1 was off like the wind shouting back his defiance to the discomfite 'foo, who continuel to run after him, though morally certain that they could not catch him. Snnc of the more cunning darted hack for their muskets while 50m», in four and tremblin , mounted the remaining horses, and started in pursuit. Tiny pressed on u the mountain, looking back, from time t» time, at the yelling crowd. Ben uickly descended from his perch, and ran hasti y out of the opening into the defile. The deriurr young negro was too good an addition to their party to be lost. How much, then, was Ti 1y startled b the apparition of a.white man. standing direct y in his path. Upon a. second look he recognized him. “Good Lordl Massa Ben, dat you?" “ Yes; dismount.” He got down from his horse without ghostion. “Strike your horse, and send him on. The negro applied his broad palm to the flank of the horse, uttering a. sharp cry. The startled boast dashed on, and was soon hidden from View by the rocks. “He won’t stop under three miles. Follow. . me.” x Ben, returned to the cave, followed by Tiny, who only know that the young man ha order- ed him to do this, and obeyed with the blind faith peculiar to his race. Down into the bowels of the mountain, and again into the light, and the escaped prisoner stood in the presence of his father. Tiny had srxan him bound and helpless, laid upon the £160:- of the burning cabin, and to . him it seemed like a resurrection from the dead. There was a. silent hand-pressure, for they had learned the virtue of silence, and the tears dim. mod the eyes of each—~father and son, alike “ Knew day , rescued from a terrible fate. r “Ki!” said Tiny, at length. “ Dat’s so, boy; dey try you hard ’nuif, too: ' but you git ’way ;.hal ha! ha!” “Whos ’fraid of dem? Pshol wu’th nottin’. Jest h’ur dem.” The savages were givin up in despair, and to turning to theirlodges. he fleet steed had gone on, and deluded them into the belief that the negro was still upon his back. “ Have you seen Miss Flora, Tiny?" “Oh, yes; she’s dar. ’Dey hain’t done not tin’ to her—use her fu’st rate: Dar’sa gal dur, do prophctess, an’ she’s taken to Miss Flo’. She's a stunner, she is. Mos’ as han’some as Miss Flo’. Well, she takes car’ of Miss Flo’ her~ self.” If I could meet that Day ain’t “ Ah! that is well. irl now, I think I could make something-put of ' or fancy for Flora. Do the warriors all mean to starry in the village, Tiny?” his name was given to the young ne r0, not because he was diminutive in size, for e stood six feet two in his moccasins, but because he was smaller than his father. “No, ear. I t‘inks dat dis is de 125' day ob da’r games, an’ den day goes off to do wars 8. ain.” “ Good, good; are you sure of this?" “Yes, sar; I heard dot An—ga-wam talk to do udders. ’Pcnrs like dey’s Waiting for some one dcy culls flan-d0. “Pen he comes, dey go awn H “ {Va must wait, then. Do not look so dis-i ' consolate Ben. Look at the matter in its right ligfit, and remember moreover, that you are under my orders. if we attempt her rescue. and fail, it will be next to impossible to do it afterward. So that we must calculate every chance to make the matter as sure as possible. If we attempt it while all the warriors are in' the village, of course our ohuncewill Bo less than if we try it when but one-quarter of the number remain. In that case, we might, if it were necessary, take her away by main force. Come up here, Tiny, and show me the exact po- sition of affairs.” The arty went up to the opening, and Tiny poin out the different lodges, and told by ' whom they were occupied. ‘ “ See dot lodge, wid t‘reo les on de top, an’a . kind ob flag in de middle? ell, da’s whar day keep Miss Flo’. Watch dat place clust, an’ mebbo she’ll come out. Dey do come out mos’ days, ’bout dis time, an’ git a breil' ob fresh air. I s’pec‘s dem tellers ain’t dis’p’inted none in me. Dcy reckoned on lots ob fun. Count «t’roe lodges from do one whar Miss Flo’ is, an’ you will soc Wham do rest ob de boys am. Day don’t tck’ it so kindly as me. More fools dey. keeps sussin’ at dem all do time, fast as I canhau’ doy likes me all do better. Dar’s Miss Flo’l As he spoke, the Mine-curtain was lifted, and Flora, accompanied by Mo—mh. came out into the central square, for, her daily walk. Little did she know that so many faithful hearts were - ' near her. ready to shed their blood, lfnecessary, . - in her defense. ’ “ It would do her so much good, only to let , her know we are here," he said. , ‘ , “ It can notbe done. Ben. ,She will ¢ enough. Huh! be quiet; let us see Memes. some anew: coming “quick- W / / Ben began to chute. ~ L‘ she was with Mc-rah. . them more. " ' with beads and por‘cu ine-qu moccasins Sam’s Long Trail. the slope. To reach the village, he must pass close to the mountain. A few minutes elapsed, 3.11mi he came out into full View. Alph sup ressed acry of anger with difficulty. It was undo, the scout. “How I would like to send a bullet through that knuve’s head. The wretch betrayed me to Dieskau, and lot in the light upon the best dis— guise I ever used to fool the French." Han—do was hurrying on, with the long lope cnh'ar to the Indian. He looked dusty and avel—stnined; his fanciful dress was in con- fusion, which was not often the case with this savage dandy. In truth, be had traveled all the way from the battle—field where Dieskuu lost his life. After the lacing received from the two scouts, he fell in with a, band of Hurons, and sent as many as would go to watch the cabin of Middleton, u hilc. with the rest, he followed the brothers. What he accomplished, we have seen. \ When the battle was over, he did not pause on it, but turned northward through the forest to the Huron village, to which An—ga—wum had promised to come with his prisoners. He hoped that Flora would be among them. His heart still humed against Alph, although he did not know he had escaped. , He entered the village, and ssed at once to his lodge, returning moodily t e greetings of those who athered about him. They, knowing his mood, oft him to himself, waiting until he should be ready to meet them. Flora’s time had passed happily enough while She found the girl of a. loving disposition, the fruit of her truinin un- der that Puritan teacher, John Lambert. he had seen Han—do coming, and obeying the tone of Me—ruh’s hand, Flora followed her at once into .the tent. “ Does the Pleasant Voice know Han—do?” “ I have seen him twice, and I fear him,” re- plied Flora. “ Han—do is bad' he has the wicked spirit in his heart. I have heard him )eak of you, and he has sworn that you shall be is squaw.” Flora uttered a cry, and set her lips firmly, “ Never] I would die first.” , “ He is a bad man. I know not what he would not do. Do you know the English scouts, two brothers, who are so like that you cannot tell them apart?” “Eels,” said Flora, with a. blush, “I know them.” .. . p . The Indianng smiled, “ He hates 15 em both. and my sister’s face has told me why. Does the Pleasant Voice sigh for her heme and friends?” I “Who could be happy, away from those we love?” I . . “If Han-do has his Will, you will never see Hark l” A voice was heard without, demanding ad— mittance to the tent of the prophetess. A mo— ment after, Han-do entered. He was covered head to foot with Indian finer . A belt of ,wampnm, wrought With figures 0 beasts and birds, was slung over his right shoulder, passed '- “across his breast, and wound twice about his waist. His dress was more fihudy than ever ' . . Ornamented flashing Wit glass tinsel. covered his, 7 feet. He waited until this tremendous triumph of Indian finery had time to work its full effect, and then s oke: “ The P easant Voice is very welcome to the led o of the Huron. She has come to stay." “ he Pleasant Voice is unhappy away from her people. She sighs for the running river, and the green fields around her home. She would return and dwell there.” “ The fields are no longer pleasant,” re lied the chief, calmly, “for the foot of war has een set upon them. Let the white girl go forth, and look about her. She will sue pleasant lakes, and hear the music of falling waters. The fields are very green, and the-woods ring with the music of the birds. If the white girl loves all these, she can find them near the lodge of the Hurons.” “ The woods are not my own, and the water- fall is not in my native river. The skins of the Hurons are red; mine is white. I cannot dwell in the lodges of the Huron. Let me return to niy own people, and my heart shall be made eul.‘ “ The Pleasant Voice asks too much. She cannot return to the lodges of her peo la. The way is long, and her feet would tire. at her be content, and dwell in the pleasant lands of the Huron. See, I am a Mohawk, and a war—chief: but I left the home of. my father, the tumbling river and the leasant lakes, and found a new home with the urons of the lakes. They had a Welcome and a, warm lodge for the chief, and they gave him their hands in friendship. He is happy here; why, then, may not the Pleasant Voice?” “It cannot be; her heart is with her own people.” “ When I was in the land of the English, I saw two cages hung against a wall. In one was a bird from the free Woods. and in the other, one with wings of gold. The first one heat its wings against the wire, and died. The other sung sweet songs all the day long.” “Did you not long to, see that bird at liberty? Did it make you happy when it died?" Hau~do was silent; his Indian nature had in- deed revolted at the confinement of the bird. , “ I am like that bird,” continued Flora; “ I cannot live away from my people. If you keep me, I shall die.” . ‘ The white girl is alone. She is afraid there will be none to fill her lodge with meat in win— ter. It is well. Hauodo has a large lodge, and it is empty. She shall he the wife of a great chief. " f “ Never!” ' “ The Pleasant Voice says it, but what can she do? Is she not a prisoner?” . “ She is not your prisoner,” said Me—rah, speak- iu for the first time. ' au'-do turned upon her with an angry frown. His fingers worked convulsively. “ Let the rophetess of the Hurons beware. She has med ledenough in the councils of the warriors. She shall do so no longer. This girl is mine——she shall do as I say.” “She shall not. The chiefs have given herto me, and hidden me to take care of her. Go your ‘ wa. . Mohawk, and trouble us not.” n ‘ Is she not the prisoner of Ange-warn!” .1 “lies: Flinn-8*:er has am We ' 24 Sam’s Long Trail. Do you think he would yield her if I asked him not?” Han—do knew the passion of his friend for the )roph6tes< and that he would go through any- hing to do her a service. He quivered with rage. “It is well,” he said. “ You have chosen to defy me. You shall feel what it is to arouse the anger of a great chief.” ‘ Go!” said Mia-rah. “‘ You are a squaw, for you threaten women. Is that the part of a great chief!” Han—do rushed from the lodge. Near the door he was met by An-ga—wam. “My brother has returned.” ‘ “ He has; the French rest in their great wi — wam, and prepare for a new battle. 'l‘heod chief, Dieskau, is taken, and another has his place. He has sent the talking—paper to all the tribes, calling upon them to lift the hatchet. I have come to lead the braves again to battle. Ii‘lS my brother done what he set out to do?" “It is finished," said he, coolly. “ What will my brother do with the white maiden? ’ “ 'l‘ he Pleasant Voice is nothing to me. I have given her to the Erophetess." “ My brother new that Han—do had chosen her for his s new.” “ I have a so chosen the prophetess for mine, but that does not bring her into my lodge,” said An— a-wam, philosophically. “ ery true; my brother does not get his iquaw. But he should make her come into his edge.” "Does my brother know what the Hurons would do to the. man who lifted his hand against the prophetes's? They would take him, and burn him with fire.” “Will the chief give this “ She is not mine to giv . “ Listen,” said Ham: 0, coming near the other, and hissing the words in ear. “ Does the chief forget—~it is not very long ago—how he was beaten, like a. (log, with rods?" An angry glitter came into the eyes of An-ga« wan). “ He has not forgotten. When the chief thinks of that, his back burns.” “ Does he remem‘ ver that the one who beat him like an English houni was to have taken the Pleasant Voice into a lodge of his own?” “ He remembers all this.’,’ ‘ “ Then why is he so tender with the white girl, that he treats her even as th 3 prophetess?” ' “An—'ga-wam’ is not a snake in the grass; he i cannot speak with two tongues. I! he ever meets this man who has beaten him, he will have his blood; but the Pleasmt Voice is given to Me- rah. It Me—rnh will keep her safe, well; if not, . she must he watche l.” , “My brother says he is not a snake in the grass, and he lies. Han—do will have nothing to 'do with such a frien'l. He knew when he burn- ed the house of the 0 en Haul (Middletom that thePleasant Voice was to be mine. He said he wasmy friend. Ishit noon such friendship. I count him mine enemy.” . “ An-g1~wam is not a ho , to be scared by the g of» anowl. . ‘If ail-do ever saw him bet-15m the clayot battle, let'him white girl up to me?” 7 He does not dress like asquaw, or paint his face, ‘ but his knife is keen, and his aim sure. Why‘ will Han—do talk? Let him do something." “ The Pleasant Voice shall be mine.” “ Good: if my brother can get the Pleasant “ i Voice. she shall be his indeed. My brother has ’ r > a long tongue. Perha s if he talk long enough, he will charm the w ite maiden out of the lodge." . L , There was much grim humor in the composi- tion of An-ga-wam ,and it maddened Han—do. He 7 did what, under ordinar circumstances,he would . 3 not have done. He jer ed out his hatchet, and I struck An-gavwam with the handle. This is the Indian challenge, and was so accepted by An- ga-wam. He replied by baring his knife, and tapping his adversary on the shoulder. “ Where shall we fight?” said he. “ At the foot of the mountain.” “When?” “ Now." ’ “ My brother is too fast. There is work to d in the village. The one who surviVes this battle must be the one to lead the warriors to the aid. of our great father at Quebec. If I tell, you are ‘ glue man; if you, then will An-ga-wam do his est. “We will wait; let it be as you say. To—mor— row. at sunrise, we will fight.’ “ To-ni rht we are friends. What ‘would my father wi h Ange-warn?” : , An old chief had approached, and touched him on the arm. An-ga—wam obeyed the motion of his hand, and followed him into the 10d . “ What said Han-do to Ange-warn? , “ We must; fight together.” “ It cannot be.” “ We must. " r “ He is under the ban of the council. He meets with us to—night. When we are done with him, . he may fight with you, if he be alive.” " ., V There was a grim meaning in the old chief’s ' \ ‘ tone. “ What has he done?” « :“ Has my brother ever thought to ask him where Mo-ne-ton is?” , “ My father s ks in riddles.” 7 “ Did not the y go forth with him alone?” :‘ “He did." , I . “ Has he returned?” ' “ No- rhaps he tell in battle." “ So n-do says. We know he hated Mo-ne- ton. The boy was very‘brave and he said that V _. - Han-do was a snake. »We as ed him totell us ' ; how Mo-ne-ton died. He said, like a man,in ‘ a battle with the English. Come and see.” - ‘ An—ga—wam followed him intoalodge aside from the rest, and at the door of which stood a guard. They entered. Upona couch of skins, in one corner of the room, lay the body of a young brave, emhalmed after a manner still in 4 use among Indian tribes.” “Here is the bod of my son.j’said the old, chief, not a muscle 0 his face telling _the agony that must have wrung his heart at Sight of his _ only son dead at his feet. “ What-say youtothe‘ story of Handel Did mv 901': (116111 battle” hogHan-do has lied. Where de you fin v . ‘wo days after the departed, udggfihgmw hath together, two wentht. {a} but; ' . flowers which they castu nthep the body" lay, singing, inpg slow monotone, the ‘L .VSDo with me as $211 W111 " “What shall chief. _ , ‘ And with one vmoe they shouted, “Let him I ‘ 1 r . v They shot adeer, and it fell down the rocks. While climbing after it the found my son, cast like a. stone into the pit. e was dead, and close beside him lay the hatchet of Hon—do. We called the council, and all said, ‘Let him die.’ We waited only for your voice, and his return. What say you?” “ Let him die.” _ . “It is well. Mono-ton, thou shalt be avenged. A little while to wait, my son, and he shall Join you in the happy hunting— rounds? An Indian drum sounded, eaten With measur- » ed strokes, and the warriors began to gather to the council. Han-do came too, gaudy in dress and insolent in bearin . He knew nothing of the muse of the counci , and he did not hood the an ry glances cast upon him from every side. he chiefs did not sit; a platform had been built in the council-ground, and around it gath- ered, first the chiefs and braves, and thou the women. Then a. stern voice cried: (I See!” And forth from the lodge painted in somber black. came the bearers of the body, and laid it on the platform. Until that instant, Hun-do had not dreamed what the meeting might mean. But the moment the body appeared, he knew his doom. Then came a. group of girls, bearing ntform where funeral cha nt; “ He is fallen, he is’fallcn! - The brave man is dead: Not in the battle, Not on the spear, ' - Not in the claws of the panther; He was slain from behind, He was out down by a coward; Let us give him a grave— _ Let him sleep with his fathers—— And go to the happy hunting-grounds. And e. the wicked one, shall die, And wander in dorkn ss forever." Taken in the toils, without a hope of escape ‘ ,- ‘1‘er the stern ring hemmfng him round, Hau- dd , I I himsel to his fate. He knew that death alone could atone for his crime. His doom would be just. He had quarreled with the young brave, and struck him on the head with his hatchet, taking him unawares. In making the stroke he lost his hatchet, and pur- sued his way, leaving the body to molder where it fell. This betrayed him, although he had thought that none would descend the Erecipice. He’was taken fairly, and must expiate is crime. The father of Mono-ton rose, and turned upon r the murderer: “ Behold your work, son of the bad Manitou. My son is dead by. your hand. I accuse thee. Not as a man. fightm hand to hand, but as a coward, who fears to ace hisvenemy, you struck Mohawks?” I , » I“; killed him,” replied Han-do, setting his teeth u He dared to defy me, and I killedhim. done. with him?” said the old die "It “when,” replied the sage. “Lew him I, Say, is it not so, Han-do, chief of the Qam’s tong Trail. The young men lifted the body and bore it slowly away. Behind it walked the murderer, strongly guarded. A party had been out be- fore, and made preparations. It was a wild, uesterpd glen among the hills. Here a cairn fl been built, and here the procession paused. “ Let this be called the valley of Mo—ne—ton, for here the murderer of Mo—ne‘ton dies by my hand,” cried the old chief. “Murderer, stand forth!” Han-do came and stood before him with fold- ed arms. Despite his finery, he had a brave heart, and did not fear to meet death. “ You have been a. brave man,” said his exo- cutioner, “and have taken many scalps. The Hurous loved on, and the squaws sung of the noble deeds of au—do. If it were not for this, fiou should die like a dog, and be fed to them. ut since you have been a. warrior, like a war- “ rior ou shall die. “ e have made two graves, one for you and one for Mane—ton. We have made yours near— est the happy hunting—grounds, so that per— chanco you may overtake the spirit of Mo—no— ton before it reaches the other shore. Have you anything to say?” " I am ready. Let the hatchet fall.” The old chief advanced, and lifted the hatchet. The re s of the sun fell upon the bent head. and show him where to strike. There was a flash, the dull thud of the hatchet as it struck the bone, and Han-do, the Mohawk, fella bleedin corpse at the feet of the man whose son he h murdered. A smile of grim satisfaction swept over the aged face. Meme-ton was well aveng- They buried the two as he had said. The pro- cession swept back to the village, and, next day, the warriors went out upon the warmth, led by An—ga—wam. Half a dozen braves remained in the village, to see that the prisoners were safely kept, and now that the pugnacions Tiny had escaped, they had little trouble. The brothers had witnessed the death of Hau- do, and the departure of the warriors, with joy. They determined 10 remain in the place where the I now were. until the savages became quief; an they were quite sure they would not return. At night, after their do arture, Alph determin- ed to visit the villa ge. is brother was inclined to rebel, and claim it as his right, but Alph re— minded him of his promise, and he yielded at once; ' Tin wished to g3, and, upon reflection, Alph deci ed to take im. along, and station him somewhere outside the village. to come to his aid in case of need. Tiny was overjoyed, executing a fancy pirouette upon the occasion, and waited somewhat impatiently for the night. If it should be clear, the must he very careful indeed, as it would not r o to awaken the suspi- cions of even the small party in the village. Besides, Alph had too good an opinion of the powers of some of the old squews in a fight, to care to arouse them. Resolved to communicate ~with Flora at all hazards, he waited for the night. CHAPTER‘VIII. ' " A m 1N run CAMP. Tun night came, and, luckily for them, itmu dark on - gloomy. . ,' ' 41,. Use I r Sands Long Trail. ‘ ' The two spies, having hidden adieu to the ' ushers, and instructed them how to proceed in , case they got into trouble, crawled out- of the cavern, and began to cross the slope toward the village. Their rapid pace soon brought them near it. when they lay down upon the earth and listened. Nothing could be heard to indicate that any were awake in the villag), and they crept cautiously forward, and soon found a snug ,osition lietwwii two lodges, in the outskirts. ere ,Alph decided to leave Tiny, instructing him to remain very quiet, and on no account to , - leave the place until he returned. Tiny prom- .“ r ising compliance, Alph left him, and bending his bod y to a. steeping position, and keeping in . the shadow of the lodges he made his way into V“ the very center of the vi age. 3 ' Here he paused to collect his thoughts. He wanted to find the lodge in which Flora was confined, and as the night was of pitehy dark— . ness, eyes were of but little use to him. He re— membered that the lodge was of peculiar shape, being eight—sided, and having three poles. As he stepped forward a little, his foot touched some yielding substance. Stooping, he found by the sense of feeling that it was a rope stretched from the to of a lodge, and fastened to u in in the groun . He knew that the lodge of crab was the only one which was fastened in this way, and that he had unconsciously stumbled upon the one he sought. He lay down again and listened for the tread of the Indian sentry, who he knew could not be far off, congratulating himself that he had Come up on this side instead of the other. In a few moments he heard him coming, and he knew that be was making the circuit of the lodge. 'Crowding quiekl in behind the lodge- ro es, he rolled himscl close] up against the Si e of the lodge, and waited. he sentry came slowly along, probing out every nook and corner 1 with his gun—barrel. It was evident that his suspicions had been aroused in some way, and / tint he was determined to be sure that no one I miss lurked in that quarter. ' ,Al 11 rose to his feet, seeing the care with Whic the fellow was searching, and got into a better position for defense. ut, as luck would have it,‘nt this moment some one called to the sentry from a. lodge not far away, and placed ' before him a temptation which it was against nature, at least Indian nature, standing guard (in a cold ni ht, to resist. “ What at, eh? You, 'MOn-dnrinin? Got sogiething?” ‘ , “ What got, eh?” - “ Firewater! Ugh, good!” A hearty smack of the lips sounded out of the darkness. h‘épgh, good! S’pose me come, give me some, 6 . “ Oh, es; come. Got ’nuif for hot'.” The ellow saw at once the, uselessness of standing guard when such things were thrown in his way, and besides, the utter impossibility of any enemy being near. So he paSSed over to __ his friend, while Alph improved the opportunity ‘ to shift his quarters to a spot nearer the lodge, ' and over which he had already passed in . “ S’pose white girl try to get ’way?” ’ “ No; What for she try? Can’t do it. Can‘t run like black man. Yah! See him run?” “ Yes.” “ “tick you Wid his head?” u NO.” , “Did me. Tonight I be kill, den, sure.” “He bruck dcbbel; glad he gone; all time inakin’ fuss.” ’ “W’at you think An—ga-wam say to me?” said the sentry, warming with the liquor. “ Don’t know; What?" “ He wants the prophetess for his Squaw." , “Yes; can’t git her, dough.” “Says he will hah her now. Dat’s What he lef’ us for, all his friends. We goin’ to tek white girl himeby, an' carry her out do village. An- gu—wum no go on war-path. Send all braves on but ten, and go nudder way wid dose. Come back here, and wait in hills.’ “ Goin’ to do it?” “ Yes: t’ink we be der’.” “ Vhen?” “Bimeb ; rett soon." « “ S’poseyshopscrcgm' mek noise?” “We tek car’ oh (lat; an’ if she do—” Alph had heard enough; his plan was laid with the quickness of light. They should carry ' the prophetcss out, as they proposed, and he would turn it to his own advantage. Slippin silently to the front oi the lodge, he €11ng quickly in. A taper burned dimly in one on]“ she no me]: much noise, ' ing upon a couch of bearskins, with their arms wreatth about each other, and their rosy li parted enourrh to show the pearly teeth; T 9 skin of the” ndian was almost ass-white as her friend’s, and her form Was as faultless; He had no time to gaze at them, but steeping, he quickly placed a hand over either’s mouth and nostrils, awaking them by the move t, and preventing the scream they might ave given in their surprise and alarm. Flora knew im at once, and he released‘her first, after no surprise when they knew him. It was the nature of the scout to be thus brave in the canoe of those he loved. , ' “ Oh. Alph, I knew you would come,” pared Flora. “ Ben! ishegafe?” r ' “Yes, but ,I would not let him come into the village. I was afraid he would be too rash." “You‘are very, very rash, Alph. There is»; guard just at the door.” ' a ‘ “ No, he is in the next lodge, drinking strong water with a friend. - You will not be troubled by him for the next half—hour. I overhefird a little plan of theirs just now, and came in to tell you. An-gwwam has not really gone to join the, ’ rench. but has sent the main force on, retain- ing some with him in the mountains. He has formed a. plot to seize the rophetess, and make H her his wife by force? I or this purpose the guards he has p over you will enter after K _, ew hours and curry you away. You had better make no opposition.” _} / , wins; . I “ Because Ben and myself,'Tiny I ' / ’Indionsinthe dork.” r consider ourselves more than a bitten her, and by its light he saw the two girls sleep- ' ‘ whispering to her to be silent. They expressed “ You will attack them, and take us away ?" “ Without; doubt.” “You have no idea. of failure?” , “ That is not in our books. match for five of them.” 1 “And Tiny for five more; you ought to have 0 ‘ , seen how that fellow acted coming here. i thought he would provoke the Indians to kill him half adozen times; he butter). one oor- fellow clear off his horse, and then kept utting him ever time he tried to get up.” “ ood for him; we sawr im escape, and had him ' in us when he reached the mountains. had tier 'go. Do not be alarmed at anything : your guards may do, and be sure and not make noise enough to wake the village. 1—” At this moment a fearful yell, such as could only come from the lungs of an excited female, rung through the village, coming from a lodge not far away. Directly after there was a shout from Tiny. “ Rot ye, yo darn old woman, let go yer hold, of yer don’t want to git huit.” “ The fellow has got himself into trouble, as I > ‘ mi ht have known he would,” said Alph. “ cod—by; I must get out of this the best I can, for it would not do to be taken. No, I am not ing out that way, Flora. I must injure the 0d 6 somewhatLI am afraid.” liking out his knife, he cut a. go throu h the bark wall of the led 9 near t 3 spot where 0 had first lain down. iny’s cries had ceased, and Alph was certain that he was either taken, or had made his escape. He worked his way V out of the village, and made at once for his 3 ,' haunt in the mountains. A fri htful din still ' ' prevailed, and Alph laughed, as e thought of the abrupt outer of Tiny. f‘r What was t e fellow doing?" he thought. He reached the haunt, and made his way at once into the presence of his friends. They were anx- Vionsly‘enpeoting him, and ready to go out to his ' rescue in case he did not return safely to them. Sam inquired for Tiny. v “I can not tell w ere he is; the fellow got himself into difficulty, as usual, confound him, Why could he not keep quiet?” At this moment there came a. pufling and Big Sam is a w .. . w w ~»--.._M_n.W went out to ascertain the cause. He recognized the voice of Tiny, addressing some person who did not dei to make any reply. “ Come a 0119;, you red nigger. Got you now, " ain’t I? Wha’ you skulk roun’ dis house, for you small-sued speciment, you. Come down, i , , say. ’Tam’t no manner of use for you to be ‘, toolin’ roun’ dot Way, ’cause you got to come”. Afters. whlle he made his appearance at the mouth of the cavern, dragging along an Indian . * boy, in the last stages of terror. He had a dim " idea that he was Stewed upon by some bad spirit, some wicked Mammuy W 0 would devour hlm in his den in the bowels of the earth. In the ex— . tremity of his terror he failed torecognize the ;‘hegro, and took the others for attendant spirits. The lad had seen .Alph leave the village, and had . followed him With thitfirobable intention of making his namaimmo b his capture. ’At ’ e open to the cayerp he been seize? by my, who rougbt hm myths presence 0 the andnowtoldhis gai’n’s Long Trail. struggling noise in the outer cavern, and Alph’ ; I ‘Passing over hispecnliar manner of pronun; ’ ciation, we will say that after his master left him, he conceived the plan of setting his brother slaves at liberty without the aid of Alph. With this intention he left his safe positio , in order to find the lodge where they were con ned. He found what he decided was the lodge in question, and went in. Some one was sleep- ing in a. corner, and Tiny thinking it must be Dinah, the only blue girl who had been saved from the attack on Middleton’s house, took her by the shoulder, and shook her gently, and was somewhat surprised, not to say appalled, by the terrific scream which burst from her throat, while a pair of scraggy arms flew u ) and seized him. As 0 was tolerably certain mdo, Tiny had blundercd into the wrong lodge, and aroused an ancient Indian lady who was trying to sleep 01! the effects of last night’s potations. Completely taken aback, Tiny had endeavored to shake off her grasp and escape, and had drag- ed her out into the open air, still clmging to him with n pertinacity worthy of abetter cause. Seeing that gentle measures were last upon her, Tiny tried what virtue there was in choking, which did not fall of its effect. The old lady released her hold of his person to take his hands from her throat, when, slapping her gently on the head to teach her better manners in future, he drop d her, and ran for his life. All t is would have been ver well had he continued running, but so far om that, he ran against an Indian coming from an op site direction. It is a well known fact in p i— losoph y, that two heavy bodies of unequal weight coming in contact when moving with equal velocity, have an eflfect upon each other proportionate to their weight. The Indian, cing lighter than his adversary, naturally re~ coiled several paces. But recovering his equi- librium, he at once threw himself upon Tiny, and endeavored to detain him. That individual, hcin troubled with none of those scruples whic had restrained him in his encounter with the woman, at once grasped his adversary by the throat and proceeded to throttle him in the most approved style, stifling an inci icnt war— .cryin a very summary manner. T 6 Indian soon ceased to stru gle, and Tiny dropped him and continued his 1 ht, and after divers mis- thélps he at last found is way back to the moun- m. “ What are we to'do with this youn animal?” said Ben, looking at the boy, ‘who, avin covered from hls terror, was casting s or) glances at them from his fierce black eyes. “ 0 may do us a deal of mischief.” ,“You are right; I do not know what to do with him, and we have not a. moment to loss. We must be near the village, for, my word for it, as soon as the Indians are quiet those fellows will carry ‘01? the girls.” ‘ " “ Let us take him out into the open ground, tie , him hand and foot, and him in the search thatw in .” g"That is so,” said Alph: end they roceeded’ to carry the plan. into eflect, noth din ag him. They will find 51 be made in the mom- nnidea that he was then and there to be the violent remonstrances of the boy, who, ha « \— Sam's Long Trail. fired. they were going to leave the cavern and take He became more quiet when he found him with them. He was left upon the plain about hall? a mile from the village, while the party went nearer. The plan of An-gn—wam was very well con— ceived, and only failed because of one little cir- cumstance, which has caused the failure of many a. plan since the foundation of the earth, name- ly, the propensity of some of those interested in the lot to talk before the time. If Alph had not ward the few words spoken by the Indian sentry on that night, his project would have suc- ceeded well. The village became quiet, and the deputies of An-ga-wmn proceeded to the execution of their orders. The girls were aroused, apparently from adeep sleep, and the first thingr they saw was a, threatening hatchet. and heard an injunction to be quiet, if they valued their lives. Under or- dinary circumstances, they would have been ex- ceedingly terrified; but knowing, what they did, they complied With an equunimity which sur- prised their savage captors. They were led at once from the lodge, uni out upon the plain to— ward the mountains. ' “There is many a slip twixt cup and lip,” says the old proverb, and it was illustrated in this case. Ange-Winn. belt a mile away, was calmly waiting forthe cmning‘of tho men charg- ed with the capture of the girls, and with every reason to believe that they would be brought. Why they were not, will appear at once. The four men composing the guard had com— menced to cross the plain. when they were sud- denly and violently assailed, the maidens torn from their hands, and three of their number left stunned and bleeding,r on the ground. When they recovered, not a. trace of their enemies could they see, The had nothing to do but to curr the tidings to i‘i‘ga-wam, and he to bear it wit 1 what philosophy he might, and prepare to pur- sue them in the morning. Swift runners set out for the lakes, determined to get before the brothers on their way. The path of the rescue- ptirty was still beset with difficulties and dan— gers, and only when they had set foot within the wall of an English fort could they really claim to be safe from pursuit. The fugitives fled all night, and morning found them still in the mountains, as their course must of necessity be slow in the darkness, burdened as they were with the females. Me—rah’s love of Flora. in these last few days, had so grown into her nature, that she had agreed to leave the home of her fathers, and live with her. Down the nnuntnin-pmses. through long deiilcs, past tumbling watercourses, fled the party, expect- ing every inomentto hear the savages howling like mad wolves on their track. As morning dawned, they rested, Tiny’s skill soon found them a meal from the inhabitants of a running stream, near at hand. They ate with a keen zest, for their night of travel ad given them a good appetite. Alph was uneus . He called Ben aside, and had along talk w 1511 him, pointing often ahead. After a. while, they returned to the rest of the part& _ r . 9 must tell you,” said he, “ that we are in u , danger. 1 Every step we trike is or, peril. I find by observation that Indians have pa down this course in haste, and am led to :, opinion that they are our enemies, the Herons They will be very likely to watch the mountain passes, and dispute our onward course.” ' “ What will you do?" said Me‘rah. . “ We have concluded to goon, but as cautions- ly as possible. This, while it will favor us in one way, will be against us in another. It will give Au- e-wam an op rtunity to get up with us, and t is was doubt ess his plan in sending these ahead.” “ Do you think they are near?” “No; the passes to the lakes are over ten." miles away, and I take it they will not pause short of that. ” ‘ “Stop,” said Mo-rah; “I have another plan. Would it be possible to reach the lake, in any other way?” “There are some passes behind us—abot‘it half a mile.” “ Let us go to them. visited them.” “You are right. Get ready for the march. Poor girls; you will be footsore and weary be- fore you reach the end of your journey.” “ Not I.” said Me—ruh. “ I was born among the mountains, and I never tire among them. But the Pleasant Voice, she will not do as well. ” “Never fear for me," said Flora. “ I have no doubt, I shall do finely. Come; let us find this ss. ' pa)The young men shouldered their rifles and ' led the way. Next marched the girls, holding one another’s hands, while behind them walked Sam and Tiny, full of luck and spirit, and re- ' , 'oicing that they had een able to take “ Miss 10‘ ” out of the jaws of the lion. In this order, the pursued their march. , he pass was reached in good time, and from the opening they looked in u on the beautiful lake. Clear us cryst=1l,duttei here and there with fair isles, there is nothing in nature of such picturesque beauty as our Adirondack lakes. «‘lom uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. “If we were on one of those islands," said . I an Perhaps they have not ‘ away.‘ The dist stead of l: ’ they drew side 0! the bowered ii sisted the; the. place. It was a hops a do: border of terior fro: in, the sv weary iI rooeef Ithe birch- shgire. . on. ‘ “5“ We a “ Take 02 may not turn at o ting that return. V' The br pose, am at once i the lake. .rived at them?“ reaching ’ The C .toward. deterini coming An—gi ' the We) the pa.“ ioliowe fuse hi ,every l and 381 . seen 1 minute Alph, “and could keep quiet for a. week we would be safe; for by that time An-ga—wam would .be tired of, waitincr, and return to the North thinking we had indeed escaped.” “ Why not do it?” said Ben. (I How?" _ “A raft. you know, Then let the last one who leaves the shore cover our trail in some wa. .‘ x “y It may do,” said A1 b. “By Jove, let’s try ‘ it. Here are logs enoup and we ought to know how to buildpneo-eh, ad?" , ‘ Ben lau lied. Had they not been hampered bythe hefivless women, they would have con- sidered themselves in no danger whatever. But their precious charge made them careful. Logs there were in plenty, and the four men set to work, and in a. half—hour had built a, ver strong raft, capable of carryin safely all then"; number. But the men did no intend to ride, Causing the girls to take their places on the cen- ter, they plunged, into the. water, after p their rifles and ammunition mi‘ the raft,‘ pagan ‘to draw and the rude mm . . I" ,4 it ' others He,: " to gro‘ then i ' ,The 'on ital. , stead of landing upon the side next that shore, 5 ‘~ they drew their great craft around to the other I * aided! the island, and anchored it in ahttle cove, Dug. b‘owered in by forest trees. This done, Ben as s in Sisted the girls to land, and proceeded to surch will thflplaco. . with It was a quaint little island, embracing per— [ing haps a dozen acres. All around the_edge ran a border of pmw, completely 'scneelnng the _ln— terior from view of those on either/shore. VVlth- be”, in, the sward was short and green, and the use? weary iris sat down at once, and rested. Ben proceer ed to improwso n’sheltcr for them, from m '. the birch-boughs which lined one portion of the by > figs; Then he and Alph held another consul- alf ' “We are going to the shore,” said the latter. r “ Take care of yourselves, and keep quiet. VVo mt may not return for some days and we may re— turn at once. What we are aoout, it is not fit- .h_ ting that you should kilowatt present. When we ,3- . return, we will tell you.” The brothers had started out with a fixed pur- lg 'pose, and did not falter in their course, but made (L at once for the path by which they had reached n the lake.» ,They traveled at their best speed, ar- '0 ,rived at the pass, and pushed on for the pass in is thenext line of hills. This they succeeded in . reachin before their pnrsucrs. 5 ‘ The efile was deep, and slanted downward , toward the north. It was here the brothers had 3 determined to make a stand, and wait for the _ coming of the Hurons. ‘, An-ga-wam hell not wasted much time upon . ' the way. Five of his men had been Sent to guard the passes to the south, and with tcn others he , followed the trail. Much had been done to con- ' fuse him, but, with Indian cunning, be solved ,every puzzling circumstance, and was nearing the where the brothers waited. "’ .ithin a short distance of the s t, he paused, and sent one of his men cautious y forward, to . seal! the place was clear. After waiting some minutes, and his messenger not returning, an- Sam’s Long“ Trails 2'9; toward an island, perhaps a quarter of a mile away.‘ _ The distance was soon passed over, but in- , I. other savage was sent to hurry him back. He, also, did not return, and An-ga-wam began ; ’ to grow uneasy. He waited half an hour, and then started with his whole iorce up the slope. ,The‘band had fully entered the defile, and was I pressing on up the 310 , when the first man halt- ,edwitha'cry of won or: There, in the pass be- .fomithem, lay their ad comrades, the men who _. had been 3811?: before. Each had the mark of the hatchet on his head, and must have died at a ' sin le blow. .' ’ I , hey paused, lrresolutel , and looked about .Zthem. Not a sound came .rom the rocks, to tell whose hand the WETI‘lOI’S met their fate. leader. His face had not changed, and his eyes marched out the crevices and nooks 1n the rocks above}, tore." solution of the myster . ' SE {nosound was heard, an An~gu~wam Wola‘silent motion with his hand. .Four of e warriors fitted the bodies, and 1 1d them .. e,.closeto the walls of the defile. . bombed“. on, until startled bye about 8 cold they turn and fly? They looked at their is done, . Looking in the direction of the sound, they saw that a young: man had Come out upon the ledge, holding a. rifle in his hand, which he now point— ed at the heart of An ra~wam. “ Move an inch from the spot where you stand,” he said, stornly, “and a bu lot is in your heart.” The bronzcd face of All-gn- um was immov— able, and he answered, quickly: “ Has the white man anything to say to An- ga-Wmn? The warrior’s ears are open. He will listen.” ' “ Let the Hurons go back as they came, and follow no more upon the footsteps of the Pleas— ant Voice and her friends.” “Why should they do this?” “ Lest their fate be like unto those,” pointing downward at the dead Hurons. “ Let our white brother listen. He is a. brave man. He is also just. All—ga-wanl only asks for Mo—rah. Give her to us, and go where you lease. All—ga-wam will be your friend. hie-rah elongs to the Hurons.” “You cannot have her. Go back as you came.” ' The face of the Indian darkened. “We will» not go back. Does our white brother take for fools? Shall we give up what is already in our hands?” “ Your fate be on your own heads, then. _ You ~shall pay the penalty of your evil deeds. Yul have come upon the house of a kind old man in the night, and murdered him, and taken his in— nocent daughter into hopeless captivity. Your friend and fell<,)w—mllrdercr Hau~do, is dead. Remember how he died.” ‘ “ He died like a dog, because he struck a war— rior from behind. He was a murderer.” , “So is An— a—wam. Han-(lo died by tho hatchet, in the and of the father of the man he had killed. You shall die h my hand.” “An-gn—wamisachief. ll hen his time comes. he will be ready to go. If it is now, well; he will not shrink. But he will not die alone. The white man may shoot him. but he dies the next moment by the bullets of the Hurons. Does my white brother see?” “ I have not told you, my red friend how he will die,” replied 'the young scout. “ Let him {so}? in front, and he will see what hisfate is‘ to e. a ._ The young man disappeared as he spoke, and obeying the implied command, the savage-s looked up the slope,-and saw something which blanched their cheeks with fear, stout—hearted as they were. A few yards above them, a huge bowlder, which had hung for years by a single point of rock, had lost its support, and was now upheld only by small props, “lilch the fingers of Ben were removing, so that a single touch would send it whirling down upon them from that dizzy hight. Its size was Such that it would sweep the pass, carrying all lo- ,foreit. A sin lo cry, the only one which their great peril h power to wring from them, at- tested their fear. ‘ l “ We do it to save the lives of women,” cried Ben. as he knocked away the last support. Crash! The bowlder struck the edge of the, Qpemng, spun half—round, and went down with a- ve deity Which'nothing could stay. The? rtu ' and fled, vainly,trom their coming rate. I - ‘ 3O Sam’s Long Trail. Clearing a bloody path to the ground below, down went the giant bowlder. Out of the nine men who entered the defile, all were slain but two, who jammed themselves into the rocky crevices, and escaped the monster. These two rose when the rock had passed, and turned to run. Two rifles cracked, and they fell~—0ne dead, the other wounded. The brothers ran quickly down the slope, past the 111158 of corruption they had been forced to make to save the lives of the maidens and their own, and reached the last of the fallen. One had been shot through the head. The other was Ail-ga-wam, who had received a ball in the left side, from which the blood was gushing, and he lay gasping his life away. “Is there any thing I can do for you?” said Alph, bending over him, and trying to stench the blood which flowed from his wound. The dying savage turned his fierce eye upon him. But it was fast glazing, and he could not speak for some moments, as the blood rose into his throat. He raised his hand to his mouth, with an impatient gesture. Alph gave him a drink from his canteen, and he was able to speak. “ White man,” said he, in tho French—Canadian dialect, “ you have triumphed at last, and I see in my fate an emblem of the fate of my nation. As I die to—day, a bloody death, such will be the fate of my nation at the hands of the white man. Their fire-water is too strong for the In- dian; it poisons him, and he dies! I go to the happy hunting-grounds of my people. May you never; come there to vex us. Is Me--rah with , on?” ’ “ es,” replied Alph. “You must be kind to the maiden. Among the Hurons, our love was great for the young prophetcss because she had learned from the W ithered Oak, and his words were good. “ Come nearer, and I will tell you a secret. Tell it thou to Me—rah, for she knows it not. She is not altogether an Indian; some of the cw- curscd blood flows in her veins. Her father was a Frenchman, dead long a o, and her mo- ther a Huron. Tell her this. aise me up.” They lifted him, and his wild eye turned quickly upon rock and tree and sky, then glazed, and was fixed forever! The brothers returned to the island, their labor being done. They never told the maidens how the lndians died; only said they would trouble them no more. Next day they set out upon their return. One Indian tried to give them trouble. He died by the rifle of. Ben, and his body was left to rot upon the earth where he fell. The journey was a long and weary one, but they reached home at last. Flora wept as she saw the ruin the hawk of the savages had made. They did not long remain here. Passing down the river, they found :1 home in Albany, with seine friends, while the brothers returned to their duty. Through the long and bloody French and In— dian wars the twins did good service to their country. When these were over they came to Allilan for their reward. Each had won the their services, but they were useful in their new ‘ vocation, and followed the gallant Wolfe, when he won undyin fame upon the Plains of Abra- ham. They di their duty as men, and row ived promotion for the work they did upon that bloody field, where Wolfe and Montcalm fell. We invite the attention of the reader to a 5 scene upon the banks of the Mohawk. The In- dian wars are over. The wise policy of Sir Wil— liam has cemented the tribes in a closer union :' with the English and all is peace and harmony. A group have gathered at evening upon the Mo- hawk. We look about us. It is the spot where Middleton’s house stood, and again the hand of peaceful husbandry has been at work. A new house has taken the place of the old, and an air of pleasant quiet surrounded all. The group upon the river consisted of three, '_ and those persons we have known. Flora—not j the one of other days, buts. comely matron, with a peaceful joy shining out over the heauti- , ful face. Ben— sunbumed, but handsome—looking with unutterable pride at a beautiful boy, playing on the reensward, a few paces distant. “ ave you thought what night it is, Benja- min?” “ How?” “This day five years, our peaceful home was in flames and I a. prisoner in the hands of the Indians}; “You are right; I never thought of that. I was thinking of another day.” "And that?” “ The day you became my wife.” “ You are sorry for that, I almost know,”said Flora, laughing. “But is it not nearly time for them to come?” “ Is it not strange that Alph should find his treasure in a Huron village, as I did mine? I am glad for Alph’s sake, that the dying Indian told us she was not all of Huron blood.” “ So am I. She is a noble woman, and I love her dearly. Her Christian name of Mary sounds odd to me. Me—ruh. There they come!” Two persons emerged from the woods, and rode swiftly toward them. They were Alph and our friend, Me-rah, no more changed than the couple we first introduced. “How well Me—rah rides,” said Ben, rising. “ Almost as well as yourself, my dear Flora.” “ Almost! Quite as well. Let us go and meet them. I hope they have brought the baby.” A few words will explain. Alph, on his re- turn from his campaign, had found Moral), happy and beloved, at the house where he had placed her. The refinements of life had correct— ed many little eccentricities, and he saw that she was a noble, true woman. When Ben was married, he took her for his wife, and settled on a. plantation, a little down the river from his brother. And there they lived happily. Big Sam had returned with them to his old home, and was now acting as overswr for Ben, while Tiny erformed the same office for Alph. Neither of t 6 two ever tired of recounting their adventures among the Hurons, even when their epauletto of a lieutenant of foot, and no longer scouted for Sir William, The generals missed 1 hair was growing gray. THE END. I shall continue to call her ' A. awn—“Mt... ..__, . KM‘ mg... new when .bra— ived that 311. for his I 811 >ve ; IOI‘ ’ nd ud he BBA'DLE’S POCKET LIBRARYd M! Denver Doll’s Device; 01-. The Detective Queen, B Edward L. Wheeler. 358 The Boy Tenderfoot: or, Roaring Ben Bundy of Colorado. B Capt. Mark Wilton, 254 Black Hills on; or, Dutch Jan on the War- Path. By Maj. Lewis W. Carson. , 255 Jolly Jimeetective; or, The Young Protege 3 Victory. y Charles Morris. 956 Merle Monte’s Last Cruise; or, The Sea Robber 8-11 Bay. B Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ‘57 The Boy Cyhief of Rocky Pass; or, The Young California Parde. By .Maj. E. L. St. Vram. 253 Denver Doll as Detective. By E. L. Whe‘eler. 259 Little Foxeye, the Colorado Spy. B "011 Loomes. 260 Skit, the Cabin Boy. Ry Edward V ’lilett. 261 Blade, the‘ S ort- or, the Grant of Clear Grit Camp. B . C. arbaugh. 262 Billy, the oy Rover. By Col. P. In aham. 263 Buster Bob’s Buoy' or, Lige, the 'ghtrHouse Keeper. By 09. t. . F. C. Adams. 264 Denver Doll’s ariner; or, Big Buckskin the Sport. By E. L. Wheeler. 265 Billy, the Baggage Boy: or, The Young Railroad Detective. By Charles Morris. 266 Guy’s Boy Chum; or, The Forest Waif’s Mask. By Ca t. Comstnck. 967 Grant eorge‘s Revenge; or. The Boys or “ Slip- upl Mine." By Buckskin Sam, 268 T e Deadshot Dandy; or, The Rio Grande Marauders. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. £69 The uartzville Boss; or, Daring David Darke By E ward VVillett. 270 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss. By E L. Wheeler. 271 E ony Jim’s Terror; or. Ranger Rainbolt’s Ruse. By 011 Coomes. 272 Kit, the Girl Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh. 2’73 The Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned's Surprise. By Joe. E. Bad or, Jr. 274 Dead Shot andy’s Double; or, Benito. the Boy Pard. By (.‘01. Prentiss lngraham. 275 Fred, the Ocean Wait; or, The Old Sailor’s Protege. By Charles Morris. 276 Deadwood 1)ka Trapped. By Ed L. Wheeler. 27? The I :iot Boy Avenger; or, Captain Wild-Cat’s Big Game. By Albert W. Aiken. 278 An‘zona Alf, the Miner; or, Little Snap Shot's Luck. By T. C. Harbaugh. ' 279 Colorado Jack. the Tiger; or, The Ghost of the Trailer. By Frederick Dewey. 280 Dead Shot Dandy’s Last Deal, or. Keno Kit’s New Role. By 001. Prentiss Incraham. 281 Ned, the Bay Pilot; or, The Pirate Lieutenant’s Doom. By Jack Farragut. 282 Buck Hawk. Detective; or. the Messenger Biy’s Fortune. By Edward L. Wheeler. 283 Roving Sport Kil; or, The Ghost of Chuckaluck Camp. By Edward Willett. 284 The Showman’s Best Card; or, The Mad Animal Tamer. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 285 OM Rocky’s Pard; or, Little Ben‘s Chase. By Buckskin Sam. 286 Dick, the Dakota Sport. By Charles Morris. 287 Neil, the Boy Ski per: or. The Sea Sorceress’ Cruise. By Jack nrragut. 238 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or. Wild Walt, the Sport. Bv Edward L. Wheeler. . 289 COI vrado Nick, the Lassoist; or. Old Si‘s Protege. By Major H. B. Stoddard. 290 Rube. the Tonderfnot‘ rr. the Boys of Torpedo Gulch. Bv Major E. L. St. Vrain. 291 IB’cacnck Pete, Ihe Madeeiiyrt; or, Hawk, the oss Miner. 3y Albert . 1 en. 292 JOcMorey, the Night-Hawk; or, the Black Rider, BY Jos. E. Badger, Jr. ' 298 Dwarf Jake. the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon's - Man-Hunt. By Edward Willett. . 294 Dumb Dick's Ford; or. Eliza Jane, the Gold ‘ner. B E11, 1., Wheeler. , 2% White Wigg, the Ferret Flyer. By Chas. Moms. 396 Govlnda, the Tiger~Tainer~ or The American > Horseme By CM F. Whittaker, 4 29’? Arizona Giant George: or The Boyeeeot Sardine Box City. By Buckskin m. 298 Daisy Doll‘s Dash; or, The Ten Colorado Paras. B '1‘. C. Harbaugh. 299 T 1e Balloon Detectives; or. Jack Slasher’sYounz Pard. By Harry Enton. 800 Deadwood Dick’s Mission. B E. L. Wheeler. 301 Dandy Duke. the Cowboy. By Major E. L. St. ram. 302 Big Benson’s Bet. By T. C. Harbaugh. 303 The Hotel Boy Detective; or. The Grand Central Robbery. By Charles Morris. 304 Bald Head’s Ford; or, Creeping Cat’s Cunning. By Buckskin Sam. . 805 Dusky Dick‘s Duel; or, The Demon‘s Trail. By Harry Hazard. , 806 Spotter F{I.}11z;lor, The Store-Detective’s Decoy. By E. L. \ ee er. 807 Nick the Bo Sport; or, Three Plucky Pards. By ajor E. . St Vrain. . . 308 Donble-Fisted Mat: or, The Mystic California Giant. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. _ 309 0 d Graybeard‘s Boy: or, The Girl’s Ruse. By C. Dunning Clark. V . 310 Kit, the Girl Ca tain: or, The Mad bailor’s Legacy. By 001. ’rentiss In aham. 311 Frio Free in Texas. By Buc skin Sam. ‘ 312 The Detective Road-Agent- or, The Miners 0! Sassafras City. By Edward L. Wheeler. 31:: Honest J ack’s Protege; or, The Dwarf’s Scheme. By Philip S. Warne. 314 Clip the Boy Sheriff; or, The Two Crooks 0! Montana. By Edward Willett. 015 Tom the Arizona Sport; or.Howling Hank from _ Hard Luck. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 2116 The Street Arab Detective; or, Dick Dorgan‘s Double Dealing. By Charles Morris. 317 Buz-kskin Ben of Texas; or. Single Eye‘s Plucky Pards. By Buckskin Sam. 31b Colorado Char ie‘s Detective Dash; 01', The Cattle Kings. By Edward L. Wheeler. 319 Frisky Fran': in Idaho; or, Old Skinflint the Shadow-r. By Roger Starbuck. 320 Cool Sam‘s Girl Ford; or. Captain Dick and His T xans. By T. C. Horbough. ' 821 Billy, the Kid from Frisco; or, Silver Mask’s Clew. By J. C. Cowdrick. 322 Fred Flyor, Detective; or, Abe Blizzard on Deck. By Cuarles Morris. 323 Dead Shot Ike in Montana' or. Hez Helper, the Yankee Pard. By Roger Starbuck. 324 Kit, the Denver Sport; or, The Bonanza Miner King. By Edward L. Wheeler. 325 Dusky Darrell the Camp Detective; or, The Dandy’s Darng Dash. By Edwin Emerson. 326 Roy, the Boy Cruiser: or, The Water Wolf Wreckers. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 327 Ned, the Roving Miner; or. Arkansaw Jack's Match. By Harry Hazard. 328 Rocky Ben’s Band; or. Big Pete’s Big Haul. By W. J. Hamilton. 329 gave, the Colorado Wrestler; By Maj. E. L. St. ram. 330 The Denver Sport’s Racket; or, Kit’s Big Boom. B Edward L. When ler. 831 T e Coast Detective; or, The Smuggler Shadon er. By Roger Star-buck. 332 Dakota Dan in Can r011 City; or. Colorado Kate's Check. By Phil'p S. Warne. 333 Bootblack Ben. the Detective; or, Pooler Jim and His P le. By Anthony P. Morris. 334 Frisco Tom on Deck; or. The Golden Gate Smug- glers. By George Henry Morse. 3.5 Ben Bandy, the Boss Pard; or, The Plucky Parson. B J. Stanley Henderson. 336 Fred, the ort, in Brimstone Bar Cams: or. The Boston restler’s Confederate. By (1. L, Wheeler. 337 Daisy Dave the Colorado Galnot; or, The Boss of Dead Line Cit . By T. C. Harbaugh. 338 The Gold Bar De tive; or, Iron Ike, the Solid Men. Byway E. L. St. Vain. BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY. 3321! Rardo. tho Boy Gypsy. By Wm. G. Paflrn. till) Billy Bnhhlv’s Bi]: Score. By (lharli's Morris. ? Uulorndo Hivvc’s Dash. By Philip S. Wurne. Ill‘J Snapshot Haul. By Buckxin Sam. :llTl Miko. tho Bowery lmta-cxivo. By E. L. \Vheclcr. The Drummer Sport. By Edward Willem. 31:3 Jaquos, tho llardpan Dctcclivo; or. Captain Frisco tho R )ad Agl‘lll. ByJ. (I. lowdrii-k. 311‘; Jon. the Chivago Aral). By Charles Morris. 31. Middy Herbert‘s Prim. By Col. .1’. lnzruham. :llrl Sharp -Slioo'ur Frank. By Buckskin Sam. ill. Buck. the Minor. By )Taj. E. L. Si. Vrain. 15.") Nod, the Blah (lily Sport. By Ed. T1. \Vht-Pler. ‘ ' Rocky Mountain Joo. By Col. ’l‘. H. Monstery. . B New York ’l‘im. By Charles Morris. ' The Girl Pilot. By Room Starlnick. Jon. tho Boy Stzigvrlh'iver. By Maj. St. Vraln. ’l‘l'xas Frank’s (frony. Bv Bucks in Sam. Idaho Null, Dotm'tivo. By Edward L. Wlweler. Guy, thn Boy Dilllt‘l'. By Col 1’. lngraham. .lorwy Jon, the Old Tar. By Mrs. Orin James. Dandy Dick‘s Dash. By 0“ Coomos. Jim‘s Big Bonanza. By W. J. Hamilton. . ()ri'zon Phil, thi- Sport. By Philip S. Wax-no. ' Kit, tho Boolhlack Dvlwetivo. lv E. L. Wheeler. ’l‘ho ()ooan Racer. By T. C. Harhaulzh. Fritz‘s 0111 Score. By Ned Bunllinn. (erk Shot Harry. By Col. Prontiss Ingraham. " (‘rvld Bust Rock. By G. \Valdl) Browne. ll‘md‘s Bold (1 line. By Paul Bihhs‘. Jilll‘ Hi» Sport in Wake-u ) By Ed. L. Wheeler. Captain Blakv‘s Jonah. {y Roger Srarhnck’. lh-nvor Kills Double. By Major 11. B. Stoddard. Bhn: Blazos Dink. By T. C. Harhauuh. l‘ho S -a Cat’s Prize. By Col. Prvnliss lnzraham. Larry O‘Lynn‘s Dash. By Josoph F. thdors‘on. Ji'n, thu Sport‘s Biz Boom; or, The. Bonanza King‘s Rival. By Edward L. \Vlioolor. Bowery Bob. Dotoc'ivc. By Jo l’iorco. Buukx‘kin Dick‘s: CB‘BII Swor- 3: or, Jr'rnathan Jonks‘ Still Hunt. By 001. Art mr 1“. Bolt. :37? The Doadwmnl Sports. By Liwnl. S. G. Lansing. 337% Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Colonel Prontisn lugraham. 370 Dick. tho Stowaway. By (lharloc Morris. J ' Young Dick Talbot. By Alhl’rt W. Aiken. 3M Dandy Bill's Doom; or, Dcerhuntcr, the Boy Scout. By Oll (looms. 3%"! Wide-A wako l 'oorgzo By Edward W'illct. il’iii Wild Bill. thi‘ Pistol Princo. By (Ml. lnzraham. :Ht Brimstono Bill‘s Booty. By J. E. Badger. Jr. 3*?) The Boy 'l‘rani N, By J. M. Hoffman. :Ni The Montana ill; or, Little Dan Rock‘s Mis- sion. By Morris Rv'ilwing. 31“? 'l‘ho Boy Dcfectivea. By T. C. Hnrhanzh. 2H8 Tho Bony Expross Rider: or, Bull‘qu Bill’s Frou'icr Friars. By (lol. l’ronlis: lngraham. IH‘J Now York Bill. tho Dudgvr By Edward Willi-ti. mm The. 'l‘iv-kwt-ofrImam-'5 Trick; or. Spring Rlx't‘l‘ Kin: of tho Bush. By J nvph E. lla'lm‘r, Jr. (him-lav Skylark. the Sporl. By Maj ‘1‘ Henry B. Stoddard. .m’.‘ ’I‘nxas .lnclc, tho Mustang King. By Colonel l‘rr‘miss lnqraliam. l’ -li-rY ihe Dandy Grm‘nhorn. l‘-_\‘ Noah Null'. 3! Toni 'l‘umplo‘s‘ Bi: Htriko. By Barry Biuggold. fill.) llarri', tho (lountry Boy, in New York. By (lharh-x' Morris. flfilli helix-live l’aul’s Right Bowor. By C. D. (Tlnrk. Iii)? 'l‘io Ti «le. tho Flatboal Boy. By Ed. \\'ill~tt. HEN (‘aptainJack in Rocky Boost. By Col. lngrahnni. tl H HII‘I'V Somr‘rs. thl‘ Mvgii'ian. By H. N. I‘lvrcc. In!) Black Tlorso Bill. By Rom-r Starhui‘k. 1 Thu. tlpl llull' Boy of tho .‘lllli‘fl. By “has. ‘anris. W! Flatboat Frod on tho MR. ssippi. By F. \Villctt. «lllrl .lakv, the Colorado Circus Boy. By Bryant Balnhridze. ’l'cxas (iliarlin's Wild Ride. By Col. P. lngraham WidevAwakc Ned. By Barry Ringgold. 32L» 1 .J ‘i l :57 375 :571; Hill till”) .101 405 406 Giant Porn and His Paras. B T. C. Harb ' 407 old Raff‘s Proiom‘. By Captayin Bruin Adffifih‘ (if); Ttowau‘g‘y Dick Abroad. By Charles Morris ' . motor .arver the Chum iion Sh '. ' ' i 410 lngrahain. , 1 o By COL I . (‘aptain Fly-By-Nlrht. B .108. E Bad r 411 Bow York Jack’s Mi-tile. yBy Barry B52501? “:2 sum Spcr 09.. ill? Broadhorn Boy. ‘By E. Wille'tt 413 vaolver Billy in Texas. By Col. P. In rraham ' 4M [lasher Dick‘s Dead Lock. B'J. . ofiman. 415 Pony. the Cowboy Chin. By B. B. Stoddard 416 l’anthcr Dick's D9th Len . ' 417 Fighting: Fred of Frisco. By 418 Buckskin Ram‘s Wild Ride. ll ‘ Col. P Ingra 'm 419 Frisco Guy's Big Bonanza. 3' Roger Stan-buck. 4‘30 Pat Mulroony‘s Part]. B Emerson Rodmau . 4}. Tim, th Boy Acrobat. By Charles Morris. . xii} geLIISpur1 Bl‘dph, the Texan. By C. D. Clark 1 A,“ as iiiig in 3. the Pon Ex )ress R' . lfri‘ntéss Ingraham. y I men By 001. ’ ‘oni . ton». l-hP Old Sea Do . By C. D. . Darky Jumble‘s Wild Ride.gBy Barry mgé’ffim. Wolf-Ca y: or, Th9 Night-Hawks of the Fire— {mndx yBCapt Chas. Howard. lossm. the order Girl. B Hen J. Tho . Nebraska Chm-lie. By Col.yP. Ingaham. mas Bill Boolor‘s Bonanza. By Edward Willctt. Long Shot; or, The Dwarf Guido. By Captain i’iilmhfk'n 1.1 V .1 ie, e co ' ess Rider. B Ma . t . ‘ Cool Clark‘s Rash Race. By gharfl‘ssllflgg‘ifid ': ()ld Grizzly in the Rockies. By Col. P. Ingraham Joe. the Bow-r Sport. By A. ll. Post. I An Irish Sport Abroad. By C. L. Edwards. 1er201} Josh, the \Vizard Riilc. By R. Srarhuck. Detvclivv Jake’s Clcw. By H. B. Stoddard. Fancy Frank‘s Drop. By Col. P. lnnraham. Silx'r-rspur; or, The Mountain Heroine. By Ed. “"illvit. Tho Death Shot. By Jnm- h E. Bad er. Jr. Wi-tah. the Child Spy. B; George Galeason. llirk, the Sea Dandy. By Roger Starbuck. I The Illaskwl Avenger. By C I. P. lngraham. Cool Clark's Dead-SM. By Charles Morris. i.’ (dd Pi-zs, the Mountaineer. By L. W. Carson. ‘ Black Panther, the Half-Blood. By Joseph E. Badm'l‘» JR The \ntolop? Buy. By Genr e L. Aiken. Will Rayon, “1030mm. BY ll Gnome-s. . The Boy Pilot. By Colonol P. lnzraham. Kidnamwd Dick. By J. Stanle Iii‘ndc-rson. Silv r Ritlc. the Girl Tracker. By Cras. Howard. 1. The Giant HunN-r. By Harry Hazard. : The Half-13mm Rival. By Jos. E. Badger Jr. The Darky llvtoctivo. By Mrs, Orin James. 1 Clark’s Bic: Bonanza. By Charles Morris, ‘ Nick Doyle. thv Gold Hunter. By P. H, Myers. “ Frank Bell. the Boy Spy. By 01] (l \omes. The Champion Texan Rider. By H. St. George. . Dusky Dick’s Doom. By Jus. ET Badxzvr, Jr. Figh‘ing Frank in Texas. By Edward Willott. ‘l‘he- Buckskin Rider. By Guy Greenwood. llnrky Sci '5 Dilemma. By Paul J. I’rvscott. " The Mad bkipper. B RugerStarhnck. Mil Frank Boll, the Boy film-f. By Oll (momma. 165 The 'l‘vxan Sport. By Capt. li‘rml. Whiilaknr. llifi The. Twin Buck kins. By ‘vV. J. Hamillon. 467‘ Math Mose an] His Dog. By \Valii-r N. llIchril. lll‘i Jack Scott in Tvxas. By Edward Willvtr. ' '0 Donald‘s Dvaih Shot. By Lit-ut. (lol. Hazeltlnv. 1170 The Ranger Di-tective. By Harry Hazard. Ready January lltli. A Nflrn hem Evi-ry ll’edrwday. BnAnLn‘s l’ova‘ menr is for solo by all News— dealors, flvo 0“!th per copy, or Split by mail on re- ccipt of six cunts cach. BEADLE AND Amns. Publishers, 98 William Street. New York. 4‘34 4 25 4213