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No. 453.

02.50
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Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams Prime.
No. 98 Wluum ST. NEW YORK. ’ Fl"! Cell“.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 The Half-Breed Rival:

  TANG-LED v TRAIL.
I  Tale of the Settlements.

BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR.,
AUTHOR or “ namrosm MARSB,” “ THE PRAIRIE
RANCH,” “ THE COLORADO BOYS,” “ run
noun HUNTERS,” ETC., are.

 

 

CHAPTER I.
THE HIDDEN VOICE.
“ WELL, gentlemen, I propose we get to busi-
ness. I for one have no time to waste, and there
areplenty of us present for a beginning,” and the
speaker glanced approvinwl around the room.
‘ He was a tall, power 11 i -built man. aged
robabl forty—five years, of a rugged, yet in-
lllifen and almost handsome cast of features;
wh' e the ten h “ home-made ” arments that he
wore disguis without hiding t e splendid con-
tour of his form. There was the slightest pos-
sible tinge of the “ brogue” to his s )eech, that
-would have told a close observer the mi of his
nativity.
“ I second the motion,” piped out a shrill,
:xavering voice, as a tall, skeleton-like body
. ruptly shot up to its full hirrht, and then sunk
,down with a jar upon his stodl, as all eyes were
, turned upon the speaker, while he'vehemently

scrubbed at his face with an enormous yellow
. cotton handkerchief, to hide the confusion he
felt at thus “ speakino- out in meeting.”

“Thank you, friend Hannibal Hooker," bOWed
the first speaker. “ But first We will have some-
thing to— Landlord! Jim Henderson,l say!“
roared out be who appeared to take the lead in

' the meeting bringing down his hu e. sun-brown-
ed. toil-hat ene-J flst upon the table before him,
.mth such force, that it seemed as if the deal
, would split, while Hannibal Hooker leaped con-
yulswely from his stool with a faint squeak.

‘“ Thunder ’n’ lightnin‘, Cap‘n Neil,” uttered a
deep, rumbling voice, as the door opened and a
man thrust his head through the aperture, “ am
'I» deaf. that you need to t'ar the house down?

, t d‘ye want?” and he entered the room.
‘r t was like a mouse with a lion’s voice.
Scercely five feet, and built in proportion, the
new-comer spoke with a voice such as we imag-
ine the 'ant Magog to have used, it was so full,
, dee an sonorous. But, if not consistent with
his y. it was with'his heart, for “ Honest Jim
Henderson” was a by-word, for use to typify
truth and fidelity, am mg his neighbors.

“ Brin us something hot and hearty, am‘c,

'for our t routs will need wetting before we get
through,” responded he whom the landlord call-
ed Captain Neil.

“ I protest, gentlemen! I protest most emphat-
ically against this proceeding!” exclaimed a
short. rotund personage, bouncing upon his chair
the better to be observed. “ Must we de mi
noon intoxicating liquors to enable us toi nrm
our plans? I say no a thousand times no! With

such supports, our ownfall—”

 

The Half-Breed. Rival.

What the conclusionof this worthy person-
age’s speech .was, is lost toposterity, for by some
mischance—it was said, by the adroit trip of a
neighbor‘s foot—the stool upon which he stood
was overturned, and the little fat fellow plunged
headlong beneath the table, giving utterance to
a series of grunts and sports that in no wise
tended to quell the shouts of merriment at his
mishap. '

“There, BrotherBacon," laughed the leader,
“ is a flat contradiction to your argument.
You full by opposing it; We will stand with its
aid."

The worthy brother made no further objec-
tion, and when the punch was brought in, by
more legcrdcmniu, a. cup lillcd With the steaming
beverage found itself tightly clasped in his chub-
by haml, and ten minutes later was empty.
Then Captain Neil stood up and spoke:

" My friends and neighbors: Most of you
knbw what is our purpose in gathering here to—
night, but as a few may not, I will briefly state

'the facts. You all know that for nearly-s year

past we have been troubled with floods of coun-
terfeit money, andawith losing our stock. How
this is done so secretly, and who by, is yet for us
to learn. But one thing  certain: unless we do
find out. :inrl that soon, we may as well sell out
for wuat we can get, and leave the country.

“Not one, so for as I can tell. among us all,
but have suii‘ered in both ways; for my part, I
am five thousand dollars poorer to—night than I
was five months since. Now, must this state of
affairs continue? I, for one, say no !—-a thou-
sand times no: and if need be, will spend every
moment of my time for the purpose of ferreting
out those scoundrels.

“ But to come to the point: what I have to
propose is this: We must organize a band—a

.ig/ilancc Committee. Do on know what that
means? They had one in entucky—they had
one in Arkansas; we must have one in Kansas!
Judge Lynch has jurisdiction here as well as
e sewhere, and it is to him we must turn, since
the law of the land is powerless to protect us!

“ All who are now resent we can trust. I be-
lievo, and there are 0 ers who can be admitted..
But you must act cautiously, and know every
man well ‘ before he becomes a member. Ono
traitor among us would counteract all the good
that others might do. But all this you know us
well as I: and those who wish to speak, or who
have any plan to propose, will now be hear ,”
concluded Neil McGuire, as he resumed his seat,
and filled the well-blackened corn-cob pipe that
la before him.

veralof the members delivered their opinions
upon the subject, all agreeing with their leader
that something must be done; the only thing in
doubt, appeared to be in deciding what that
thing should be. It was while the debate was at
its hight, that loud, excited voices were heard in
the bar-room Without, followed by the sounds of

‘ a scume, with a rattle of overturned chairs and

tables.

Then the connecting door was violently thrust
open. Without the trouble being taken of lifting
the latch, mild {i man stood upon the thl'eshold'
keenly scrutinmng the scene before him. A man,
we said, but it might well have been, a remark-
able man. ' ,

 

 

The Half-Breed Rival. 3

 

80 tall that the hair of his uncovered head
touched the top of the doorway, and yet so per-
fectly proportioned thxt had it not been for the
standard to compare by, he would not have
seemed over six feet, if so much. The hands
that grasped the sides of the doorway were largc
and muscular, but as fine and white as a lady’s;
and from the osition, great masses of swclling
muscle could e seen distcnding the light ma-
terial of his sack coat, upon the arms.

His face was of a massive style of beauty, and
et not without delicate lines and touches. T he
een blue eyes were large and frank-looking,

usually having a genial, goodhumored tone
about them that instinctivel attracth the be-
holder; but which had now glven place to a cold,
steel-like glitter that warned how dangerous it;
might be to cross his mood.

In age he appeared about thirty, and but for
the long, flowmg mustache and heard of a soft
flaxeu color, one. would have taken him for half a
decade less. After a few moments’ silence the
intruder spoke, in a full, clear tone that would
have been musical had it not been for the metal-
lic ring, occasioned by his anger or excitement.

“ Gentlemen, I must beg your indng nice for
interrupting your council so abruptly, but
‘ Honest Jim ’ Blockhead yonder denied me ud-
mittance, and as I was in no mood for arguing
the case, I fear I gave the fellow a broken hcad,
and took the liberty of introducing myself.”

“ You say right," responded Neil Mciluir \, in
a stern tonc, as be confronted the stranger, “ it
is a liberty. We were engagcd upon private
business, that does not concern you in the lcast,
an —

“ Pardon, my dear sir,” interrupted the stran-
ger, “and allow me to correct you. The busi—
ness you were upon daes concern me, and I doubt
if one man present is more (lee )Iy interested in
its success than myself,” he 3 (led, in a concil-
iatory tone, that was flatly contradictcd by the
glitter of his eyes at the manner of McGuire.

“ Perhaps you will tell me where you got. your
knowledge of what we were consulting upon,
and your reasons for this intrusion,” coldly re-
turned the latter.

“ It is easily done,” quoth the stranger, as be
advanced to the table and coolly filling a pint
cup with the punch, drained it at a draught, not
heeding the scowls of those around: him,.“and
shall be as you say. In the first place, you are
organizing a league to put down the horse-
thieves and counterfeiters that infest us.”

“ Go on,” was the cold reply.

“You are prudent, and I don’t blame you.
Who knows but what I am a spy, a person in
the interest of those same scoundrels?” laughed
the intruder.

“ Just so; who does know ?” chimed in a voice
from among the crowd.

The man sprung to his feet and glared in the
direction of the voice. but every face wore
an expression of astonishment, while each
man glanced around him as if to discover the

speaker.

“If the fellow who spoke thus will be hon-
est enough to show his face, perhaps he will
learn who and what Clay Poynter is. I would
giva__.n

” How much — in

counterfeit money i’”

 

squenkeda shrill treble from another part of
the room, toward which Poynter turned in a
frenzy of rage and fury.

“ Peace, gcntlemenl” ordered McGuire,
thumping u )on tho table to give emphasis to his
words. “ V e are not here for squabbling, but
up n serious business. Mr. Poyntcr is a gentle-
man. Lct him procecd."

“ Gentlemen, it is true I am a comparative
stranger among you, but, for all that, you
have no occasion to insult me. I will give a
hundrcd dollars to the man that will point
me. out the scoundrcl who spoke those words!

“Which will only cost you sixteen dollars!”
added another voice—alluding to the general
price paid for counterfeit money since the days
of Sturthant—sounding from close behind him,
who had called himself Clay PoyntA-r.

The latter swiftly turned, hissing; out a bitter
oath, with right arm drawn back to dcal a fear-
ful blow upon his insulter, but no pcrson was
thcre I Thc space behind him had been unoccu-
picdsinco hiscntrauce. I’o ntorstagzgercdbuck
against the table with a halt-startlcd, half-puz-
zlcd look upon his foutui‘es; but this he soon
banished, and with a somewhat constrained
voice, said:

“Really, the devil seems to be at work here
to—night, and has selected me for his mark 1”

“ chcr fear; he will not claim you yct. The
mortgage has several weeks yet to run," again
added the strange voice.

“Come—come!” impatiently cried McGuire,
“this is all nonsense. Please go on with your
explanation, Mr. Foynter.”

“ Well, I learned that you were about to or-
ganize aVigilanco Committee, and thought I
would present my name for a membership. So
I rode over from my house, and as I passed the
ford at the creck, I was knockcd from the sad-
(116, and when I rccovcrcd, I was robbed of my
horse as well as watch and a large sum of
money.”

“Ho. ho! the robber robbed!” crooked the
mysterious voice, and the cry appeared to float
around the room above the company’s heads,
most of whom Wcre deathly pale, while noxious,
apprchonsive glances run from one to another.
“ Ho, he! the robber robbed!”

“ Our worthy friend is quite a ventriloquist,”

slowly uttorcd Poyntcr, as his flcry eyes roved
around the room, dwvlling slightly upon each
face; but upon one in particular he cast a
glance of mingled hatred and triumph, then
passed to another. “I would willingly give
half I am worth, just to take one lesson from
him." dwelling with bitter emphasis upon each
word.
“ ell, friends, we may as wcll break ofl? now
before harm is done," said Neil McGuire, in a
vexed tone. “There’s something wrong here,
and the less we say, perhaps the better it will be,
for who can have any object in breaking up this
meeting, unless he or thry are connected with
this accused gang of scoundrels?"

“ But whntl must we give up the plan
after all this to do?" exclaimed Demetrius
Bacon, again leaping upon his stool in order to
gain tho desired auditory, forgetful of his late
downfall.

“Give up the devil l”' retorted McGuire, who

 

 

    

4 The Half-Breed Rival.

  

 

wasnot always precise in his language. “ When
I put my hand to a thing in dead up—and-down
earnest, it‘s bound to go through. And now lis-
ten, all of you. Until you hear from me, attend
to your business as usual, and do not make what
has happened to-night the subject of conver—
sation. We must use a little more circumspec
tion, for if a spy can enter among us here we
will need all our wits."

“I show you the spy—why don’t you take
him?” again squeaked the strange voice, and
then as each man glanced at his neighbor it ad-
ded: “ His name, now, is Clay Poynter!’

“ My dear sir, whoever you may chance to
be,” cried the man thus strangely denounced,
in an assumed tone of nonchalant lite-
ness, as he glanced around the room, “ Iphhade
an error a few moments since. I said that
I would give half I am worth; so I will
add the other moiet , if you grant. me an in—
terview.”

There was no reply to this speech, and the
party filed through the doorway into the bar-
room 01' the “ Twin Sycamores,” the majority of
them pausing to take a parting drink before
leaving for home. Beside Neil McGuire stood a
mediumeized man, of a sand ' complexion, and
who appeared to belong to a different class from
the rough, homespun-clad farmers that sur-
rounded him, if one might judge from his ap-
parel and general demeanor.

A heav gold watch—guard, from which de-
pended a unch of seals, crossed his waistcoat,
and while with one hand holding a riding-whi ,
he daintin flecked a speck of dust from the tip
of his well-polished boot, the other raised a glass
of liquor from the bar. As he did so, a solitaire
diamond ring flashed back the candlelight with
a thousand scintillations. Among the frills of
his linen shirt-front a magnificent cluster pin of
the same 'ewels gleamed forth, exciting the
wonder an admiration of a number of the men
present.

At present his features were calm and ex—
pressionless, while his small gray eyes shone
with a half-vacant air; but beneath all this a
close observe - would have seen something more.
He would have renounced the stolidity a mere
mask, and woud have seen that not a man
present but was keenly scrutinized.

“ Come, Dement,” said Neil McGuire, turning
toward this man. “Come, let’s o,” and the
two men elbowed their way from t 6 room.

The remainder, such as had not de , con-
tinued to converse in low to ies upon the subject
of the strange voice. Poynter was carelessly
leaning back against the counter, holding a glass
in one hand, while he listened intently to the
remarks, althou h not appeal-in to do so.

“ It may be a right, Touter, ut it is mighty

ueer, anyhow. And then who is this fellow?

you know does anybodv know, except that
heap rs to have plenty of money, and calls
himse f Clay Poynter?” distinctly uttered a
bold, free tone, and the speaker turned his head
toward the person alluded to.

He was a somewhat remarkable-looking man,
apparent! five or six-and—twenty yours of age.
In form 9 was tall, and straight as an m-i-ow,
with a lithe suppleness in every movement, that,
joined to his swarthy complean, and long,

 

straight black hair, in part confirmed the rumor
that he had Indian blood in his veins.

“ Ah, my dear Indian Polk,” blandly inter-
rupted Poynter, as he drew himsnlf erect upon

hearing these words. “ You do not drink. Al—
low me to offer on a glass of brandy?” and
with a lightning- ike movoment he hurled the
heavy glass full at the head of the young man.

“ But quick as was the action, the missile was
eluded by an adroit duck of the head, and Polk
sprung forward with a fierce curse, lunging out
with his clinched flst a. fearful blow as he did
so. The blow fell upon Povntcr’s half-nvertcd
cheek, tearing the skin as if cut with a knife;
but not a quiver or a motion was the result of
the blow.

Before the assailant could recover his balance
Poyntcr's left hand clutched his throat, and
then the massive flst shot out, taking Polk full
between the eyes, with SUCh crushing force that
he was hurled clear across the room, where he
fegl'head-flrst in n. senseless heap beneath the
ta 9. ‘

Coolly wiping the blood-spots from his shirt-
front with a handkerchief, Poynter turned to
the bar without another ' lance at the fallcn
man, and called for a glass of brandy. Hen.
derson promptly served it, at the same time
whis wring:

“ on’d better look out, Mr. Poynter, fer
‘ Injun’ hain’t no baby, an’ ’11 hev y’nr blood fer
this of so be he kin. He’s a devil, shore i”

“ ah!” laughed Poynter, snapping his fin—
gers. “ I don’t care that for him. If he crosscs
my path again, or lets me hear any more of his
dirty hints, I’ll hit him a square blow next, one
that he’ll not get over so easily as this one. But
when he gets up, just give him my compliments,
and tell him that if he relishes the specimen,
there’s plenty more of the same brand at his
service,’ and so saying Clay Poynter left the
room and vanished in the darkness, leaving
those behind him still more puzzled at him than
before.

 

CHAPTER II.
run DOUBLE snow.

“WHAT can be keeping] Nora. I wonder?”
half—muttered a man, as e anxiously peered
through the leafy screen before him, With a ges-
ture of impatience.

A man, we said, and as he turns his head so
that the sun’s ra 5 fall beneath the broad-
brimmed slouched at, we can seethat it is Clay
Poynter who is there awaiting the arrival of
some person. Even had not his muttered excla-
mation revealed this fact, there was an eager,
ardent tinge to his restlessness that would have
betrayed his secret—would have told of an ap-

intment with some one a little more than a
mere friend.

A woman would have guessed that he was ex-
pecting a sweetheart, whom, for some reason,
he could not visit openly, and she would have
been right. He was awaiting a sweetheart, and
her name was Nora McGuire.

Again Poynter peered through the bushes.
He saw a small but neat vine-covered log house
of only one story. Behind this and upon either
hand spread the fields of young grain, now a

 

la. '

 

 

The Half-Breed Rival. I 

 

level, waving sea of verdure, with strange forms
and figures chasing each other, as the blades
we ‘ bent by the fltful gusts of wind.

ehind this, a ain, man the rugged mounds
formin the ‘ ildcat [Range ” among whose
more iflicult recesses the “ ig game” still
could be found, and it was rumored that yet
more dangerous customers might there be met
with-that manya wild scene of blood and crime
those rock—crowned hills had witnessed.

But of this our friend took no heed, for he saw
the object of his thoughts step from the cabin-
door and after a hasty glance around, trip
lightly toward the s t where he was standing.
Poiyknter pushed asi e the screen of bushes, and
ha emerged, but as if by a second thought he
drew back with a muttered curse.

He had caught a glimpse of Neil McGuire’s
stalwart Iorm passing from the field to the cabin.
and for some reason best known to himself, did
not wish those keen gray eyes to note his pres-
ence. The young girl now reached the screen of
bushes, and, with one lance behind her, passed
them, and then was tig tly clasped in the strong
arms of Poynter.

“For shame, Mr. Po ter, to surprise me in
that way!” poured the ainty lips, as Nora glided
from the embrace.

“ But, Nora, ’tis all your own fault, if I am
obliged to surprise you, as you say,” laughed the
young man.

“ And why so?” innocently queried the maiden,
with the slightest possible toss of her pretty
head.

“ Well, pet, the fact is. I have a. serious mono-
mania that troubles a-"

“A what? Is it anything very dangerous?”
asked Nora, with a startled air...

“- That depends,” he laughed again. “ But, as
I was saying, the disease is beyond my ower
to cure. It is, that Whenever I see a fainty
little rosebud mouth. like one that shall bename-
less. I feel an irresistible desire to just stoop my
head and see if it is as sweet as it looksl”

“ Oh, ou horrid creaturel I thought you
Were s1c , or something,” pouted Nora, half-
turning awa .

“ Now you re mad, and I’ve got something of
importance to tell you.”

. ‘ No. I am not mad; but you talk so queer at
times that I can’t understand you. You seem to
deli ht in making sport of me.”

“ make sport of you? No, no, little onel I
love you far too well for that. It is only my
way. But come, take my arm and let's walk.
I have something to so that cannot be post
poned, and some one mig t interrupt us here,”
added Poynter.

“ But can't Iyou come to the house, Clay? It
don’t seem rig is for me tomeet you in this man-
ner,” hesitated Nora.

“Your father is at home, and on knew What
he said the last time I called. 1 any one else
had spoken to me in that way, Nora, he
would—" I '

as? then-pausng abruptly for a moment, he

“ But what has he told you about me, t?”

“ About you? why—” faltersd the maiggn.

“Come, Nora, it 8 better that I should hear
it from you than him. No matter how harsh or

\
\

 

unjust it may be, I shall not forget that he is
your father.‘

“ Oh, Clay, it was dreadful l"

“ So bad as that? Well, m shoulders are
broad and I can bear it. And i was—1"

“ Must I tell?” she pleaded.

“Norai”

“ Well, then," with a sigh, “ he said that he
had heard you were connected with ungang of
horse-thieves and counterfeiters; and than 11
he had no positive proof against you, as yet, a
lforbade my speaking to you untl he gave me
cave. ’

“ So—so!” bitterly cxclaixned Poynter, half to
himself. “My kind friend has not abandoned
me yet.” Then turning abruptly to Nora, he
added “ And you believed this?”

n C fly!”

“Pardon, darling: I did not mean it” 113- I

pentnntly said Poynter. “ No, I can trust you,
if no one else."

And he clasped the little brown band that had
been laid upon his arm at her exclamation.

“ I wish you would trust me; then, perha I
could tell better how to act,” she said, loo '
up into his face, wistfully‘.’

“ And have I not? ell—did he tell you
from where these hints came?”

“ No, but I think—and yet again,
puzzled,” hesitated Nora.

“ You think—?"

“ That our strange visitor—this John Dement,
he calls himself—is in some way mixed up with
it. More than once I have accidentally over-
heard him and father speaking about you but
whenever they saw me, it won] be dro gal.” ,

“The yellow-haired man that was w t your
father on Tuesday night?"

"Yes. But I may be wrong. At anyrata,
he has left us now."

“ Left you, you say: and when?"

“Late yesterday afternoon. But it is only
for a short time. I heard him tell father that
he would return next week.”

“ Do \ou know where he went?”

“ To Fort Leavenworth.”

“Good! ‘I will manage to have an interview .
with the gentleman: I must stop there In self."

“You stop there? Why Clay—l”
the maiden, in a startled tone.

“ Yes; that is what I came to tell you. I?
must go to St. Louis 11 :1 business for a week
or so. Indeed, I shou d have been upon the
road before now, butI wished toseeyou first so
that you would not be alarmed at my disappear-
ance,” retuined Poyuter. kindly.

1am

The reply she was aboutto make was abruptly» ‘

checked y the sound of a reaching footsteps,
and then the loud, clear call) of : '

“ Nora. Nora child, where are
“0h. Clay, it is my father!

mvlnill kill"
e me
if he finds 1 am with you i" '

“Never fear, darling. he will not hurt on,” -'

murmured Po tar, as he drew the tram 8
form closer to is side.

“ No. no. Clay; but you—~oh. leave me!”

“ What, I run, and from one maul”

“ Nora—I say, Nora' why don’t you answer.
me?” impatientl called the voice. and the foot-
steps caused, as f her father was listening.

‘ For my sake i" pleaded the maiden. .

 

 

r

'6 The Half-Breed Rival;

“ For your sake——well," and with one fervent
«kiss, Clay Poynter vanished among the under-
growth.

“ Nora —Noaa l"

“ Yes, father," she tremblingly answared.

“ Oh, so here you are?” said Neil McGuire, as
she entered the little glade. “ Why didn't you
speak before? Ha! who has been here with
you?" he added, at the same time bending over
the moist ground. .

Nora could not reply, and then her father rose
with an angry flush upon his face, and exclaim-
ed in a voice hoarse with paSsion:

‘ So, this is the Way you obey mel Stop 1” as
he saw Nora about to speak, “ do not add false
hood to dislobedienoe -—”

“ Father, did I ever tell you a lie?” reproach-
fully asked Nora. ,

" Pardon, Nora. I did not mean that. hut I
was so angry at flndi 1g that you had been with

. that villain. Poynter I forgot myself. See,
those are his tracks. No other man wears such
boots around here.” ,

‘ " Well, I was with him, but he only came to
bid me good-b .”

“ Good-by! hen he thinks it best to leave the
country before Judge Lynch interviews him,
the—” .

“ Hold, Mr. McGuire,” slowly said Poynter, as
he stepped forward and confronted the father.
“ Why should I fear Judge Lynch more than
any other man?”

“ Ah, why, indeed?” sneeredEMcGuire. “ Why
was it that you left Kentucky so suddenly and
made such a short stop in Arkansas, if fmay
ask?’ ‘

“ So that is your game, is it? Well, of this be
assured, that after my return from St. Louis, I
will show you such proofs of my innocence that
you ’will beg pardon for your unjust suspi-
cions.”

“ After your return i" echoed Neil, deri-

likely.

- “ either—father l” pleaded Norah, in terror,
’“ come, let us 0 home; I’m afraid ”

“ Your dang ter is right, Mr. McGuii e.” ad-
ded Po nter, a little more coolly. “ It will do
no goo for us to talk further. My eigplanations
can 'wnit.” , '

“ So I presume,” curtlv responded the other,
then adding. “ Come, child, let us go.” and lead—

r in Nora by the hand, he left the glade.

‘ or a few moments Poynter‘stood gazing ab-
stractedlv in the direction thev had taken, and
then'arousing himself, with a little laugh. turned
upon his' heel and walked briskly nlonga faintly-
deflned trail. _

After orbssin a slight rise and down the val-
ley‘ once mere. oynter came in view of his own
house —for that time and section, a perfect
~ palace. a twa-story frame, weather-boarded, and

, r lnted a neat cream-color. Why he had built

his, when he was not at home one-tenth of his
time, wasa great puzzle to his neighbors, and

1 many a siege of cross-questioning bad old aunty
' v; Eunice to undergo.

. Quostidns as to who her youngr master really
Was, if wealthy, ani his reasons fer making such
"hequent jourueis; why he had not got married,
and countless ot ers, of equal importance. But

the old negress» knew how to keep a close tongue

 

 

in her head, or to talk a great deal without sag-
ing anything; so that when her visitors le 17,
they were forced to acknowledge that they knew
as much as they did before—and not much
more. ’
Clay Poynter strode rapidly along but his
thoughts were not upon what e was doing; he
was thiuking of Nora McGuire. His head was
bent forward, but he did not heed where he
st'-pped, and with a sharp cry of surprise he fell
headlong, his foot having caught against a root

or stub.

It is wonderful upon what slight points a.
man’s life hinges; and Poynter had an instance
of this fact furnished him at the same moment.
Simultaneous with his cry, a double report
echoed upon the air, and his hat fluttered from
his head, and a sharp, tingling sensation in his
shoulder told him that he was shot.

“ Hurray Bart, he’s a goner!” shouted a voice
that the fallen man had no difficulty in recog-

ye! But it’s heifers, mind ye now

Polk l" and at the same time two men broke on

from the bushes, and hastened toward their in-
tended victim.

Poynter could see them plainly, and immedi-
ately recognized them to be Barton Clowry and
Polk Redlaw, the former a drunken, worthless
scoundi'el, that would lie, steal, fight and drink,
day in and day out. He had a fit-looking rson
for a partner, owingto the blow dealt Po Red-
law by Povnter, at the “ Twin Sycamores,”
that had inflamed his entire face dreadfully.

All this he saw at a glance, and when the two
would-be murderers, had crossed half the inter—
vening space, Poynter leaped to his feet with a
hoarse cry, and as his right arm straightened
out, the sun’s rays flashed upon the polished tube
of a revolver. At the report, Clowry gave a
figulsive spring, and then fell upon his face,

“New, on dirty, mongrel cur, it is our
turn 1” ye ed Poynter as he again cock his

weapon. 1

It was discharged, but Polk had caught the
motion, and throwing himself flat upon the
ground. the missile hissed harmlessly above his
head. But ere he could arise, Poynter leaped
forward and dealt him a fearful kick u n the
side of his head, that hurled him forwar twice
his length, sprawling among the bushes, where
he lay perfectly limp and motionless.

His enemy stooped over him and felt of his
body), then arising, he muttered:

“ sad as the other! Well, it’s so much am-
munition saved, at an rate. It is a bad ob,
though, but it was eit er I or' them, and t ey
would have it!" he muttered, as he returned to
where his hat lay, brushing the dust from his
garments. I _

“New hat smiled—Item first: bullet-hole in
shoulder, another. Well, I don’t know but what
they are both paid for, now, as it turned out.
Confound the thing} how it does smart. Aunt
Eunice must bind it up, and then I suppose I
must go and tell the neighbors,” he mused, as he
proceeded toward the house.

“Curse the luckl More delay just when I
should be at work; and if I was not very p0 ular
before, will this mend matters any? It’s ucky

 

 

 

fire

'7’

 

l
x

i.
on

x

J
>

 

 

The Half-Breed Rival. V.

theyl were such dirty hounds or it might go hard
wit me. And then these Vigilantes—”

“ Lord ’a’ massy! Marse Clay,” cried a husky,
wheezing voice, as a negro woman came wad-
dling from around the house. “ ls you done kilt,
bone 1”

“ ot uite, aunty,” laughed Poyntcr. “ But
I might ave been. Come,” he added, entering
the building, “ get some rags and bind up my
shoulder.”

“ ’Clar’ to oodness, honey, chile, I was e’en-
a’niost skeere to deaf, I jest was, now,“ chat-
tered Aunt Eunice, as she bustled around her
patient. “ 1 jest done went to do do’ to look of

on was a—comin’, w’en I see’d dem ’ar funnelly
ellers a—shootin’, an’ den you failed down, an’ I
t’oug‘ht you’s done dead to suahl"

“ ell, why didn’t you come and hel me?”

“ ’Deed I was jest a-gwine, honey, so was. I
runned to de kitchen, an’ got dis ere ” holding
up a huge basting-fork, “ ’nd w an got out
ag‘in, dar you was, big‘s life. “ Pear‘s like, I’d
a—drapped, l’s so ’mazin’ glad. Brass ye, hone ,
dear, of dem ’ar Pharoasters ‘d ’3} killed you, ’d
a—jest would, so dar!” spluttered the old wo—
man, throwing her arms around Clay, and jump-
ing up and down as she hugged him.

“ Easy—-easy, aunty: you hurt my arm,”
laughed Poynter, as he released himself, and
then sunk into a chair, feeling faint from excite—
ment endless of blood. ' _

“ Jest looky! w’at a funnelly ole goose I is!
But [’3 so glad, Marse Clay, dat it ’pears like I’ll

0 clean crazy.”

“ I think that if you’d get me some brandy or
a cup of coffee, it would be a more sensible idea,
Aunt Eunice."

“ Dar ’tis ag'inl Might ’a’ knowed dat. But
you jest sotrsti‘ll, honey, ’nd I’ll git you it,” and
she trotted out of the room with an alacrity that
made the entire house jar beneath her weight,
while Poynter bowed his head upon the table.

CHAPTER III.
“ JUDGE V LYNCH.”

AFTER drinking the coffee prepared by Aunt
Eunice, Poynter started toward the door with
the intention of mounting his horse and giving
information to his neighbors concerning the
tra edy, but his limbs trembled and his head
ree ed. forcing him to catch at the door-post in
order to keep from falling. A strange spell of
Weakness seized him, and but for the strong arm
of his servant, who supported him to a chair, he
would have sunk to the floor.c

“Fix my bed, aunty; I ess I’ll lie down for
amoment. I must have led far more than I
thought. And just at'the time when I should be
most active, too!” he muttered. half uneasily, as
the old woman departed upon her errand.

In a few moments he was lying down upon the
bed, and dismissed Aunt Eunice about her work.
He sunk into a heavy slumber, that lasted until
four in the _ afternoon, when he was hastily
aroused by his servant. who appeared to be ter-
ribl¥valarmed at something.

“ ell, what is up. Eunice? You look as
though you’d seen the ghost of your grand-
mother.” -

 

 

“ Lord. of moms on’y jest a ghos’, ’pears like
I’d be glad!" cried the old woman, anxiously. . ‘

 

“ Bress you, honey, dar’s a right smart chance
o’dem ar’ critter-back tellers out ander, all
a-holdin’ us an’ sich like. w’at toe me was
you hyar Den I tole dem I dunno; ’spect you
done gwine away; ’cause ‘I didn’t know w’at
dey wanted, an’ didn’t know uiebbe you’d want
to hide. Don a re’t big feller, no ’count w’ite
trash, he said, ‘ ’long, dar, you ’sense 0’ mid-
night you, an’ tell him to show hisso'f, or I brow
de whull top 0’ y’ur head oflen you!’ Den I
say, ‘Git out, you dirty w’ife nigger ’——” splut-
tered the woman, when Poynter, who had
pulled on his boots and coat, interrupted her by
asking:

    
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
   

“Armed horsemen, you say; did you know
any of them?” _
"Deed I did so, honey. Dar’s ol’ Marne

Reeves. ’n’ Brooks ’nd dat ar’ :Injun feller—"'
began Eunice. ‘ s

‘ What! not Polk Redlaw?”

“ ’Deed, fo’ suah Marse Clay, honey,” per-
sisted Eunice “ knowed de dirtly nigger
gong}: his face is all bloody, an’ red Ii e a b’iled .

eet. “
Poynter did not reply, but proceeded hastily
through the house and out upon the front stoo ,u
where his appearance was hailed With an ex t-f
ant shout from the crowd of armed men that I
filled the dooryard. ' 2 ~

“There he is—arrest him! I charge him *‘
with murder!” cried out a loud voice, alittle
upon one side. ,

“Ah! you there, mongrel cur?” soornfully
cried the accused, with a look of contempt. " I
thmflt I had finished you for good.” » ~

“ he acknowledges it!” foamed Polk Red- ‘
law; “ call you all to witness—" ‘ ' ~

“ Dry up y’ur figup,” muttered on of his"
nei hbors, giving d aw a shove the near "
sen him to the und head-foremost. ‘- ‘

"Curse you, ack Fyffel” snarled Polk, lea .
ing at the man with a gleaming knife in _
hand, “ I’ll cut your heart out!” . ' I

“ Sol” coolly exclaimed the burly fellow -‘
dodging aside and dealing the battered head of '
his assailant a deftly«planted blow that brought
himtograss. “’Pears like ’sif y’ur ocky'putt‘gu
was a football, sorter." ’ .

“ Stop your squabbling there,” called out Neil ‘
McGuire, sternly. “The first one that creates
a disturbance while I lead them, will be put un- ~
der arrest. Young man,” he added, turning tow
Poynter, who stood calmly scrutinizing -the -
assembly before him, “I regret it for‘ your
sake, but I must arrest you,’ at thesametime
ascending the steps and placing his band upon
Poynter’s shoulder. ‘ ' « 

“Arrest me!” said the young man, shaking , ,
of; thgigrasp and retreating a step. ‘ And for ‘
w at ' ‘

A yell went up from the crowd; among the _
cries were fearful words—those of robbery .. ‘
murderl‘ 7. --= j

“ You hear?” significantly returned McGuire.

“Ido: but even an posing those terms at» '
plied to me. what rig t have you to take 0
office of justice upon yourself?” ' E ‘ I ~

“ What ri htl That of the people—0t honest
men! The ght thatjustiflesa man m‘kflling
a snake. or ridding the community of a ‘
We are Vigflantes—did you ever hear of them .

u . .'.-...

 

 

The Half-Breed Rival.

 

‘n
, before—4n Kentuck , for instance?” sternly re-
»;5 plied Neil, with a iting sneer upon the last
' ' question.

H Ah!”

It was only one word, but it comprised a
world of bitterness—one might almost say of
anguish and despair. It seemed as if a dread—
ful blow had been stricken him, and for a mo-
ment he bowed his head beneath it; but only
tore moment. Then he was as cool and as
proud as before. ,

“ Very well. I suppose I am your prisoner?"

“ You are.”

“Aunt Eu‘nioe, don’t be alarmed, I will re—
turn soon. Then turning to McGuire, he added,
“I ume I will have a fair trial l”

“‘ eare not murderers—only the ministers
of notice,” was the stern reply.

‘ Then, aunty, when I send for you, come. I
ma need {Eur evidence.”

‘ ’Deed, arse Clay, honev,”sobbed the old
woman, pressing forward, “ I’s gwine along too. "

   
 
   
   
 
  
     
   
  
 
    
  
  
  
  
    
  

“No, on cannot' at least just now. Remain
here unt I send. Jl‘hen to the leader of the
V ates. “ Well, sir, I am ready!”

Your horse?”

' “ Is in the stable—my bay, I mean. The other
. was stolen.”
. “Biblenl”
“ I told you as much at the meeting.”

I “Well, Crane, bring him out," and then Mo-
Guire drew aside with two men, to whom be ap-
peared giving some instructions, in a low, guard-

ice. .

The horse of the priso ierwas brought forth,
and when he had mounted. they filed from the
' dooryarrl, and closing up around their captive
rode away with the excption of the two men
gnu to by McGuire, who soon after entered

building.

' The little cavalcade proceeded at a rapid trot
toward the “Twin Sycamores,” while the cu-
rious, halt-aflrighted gazes that followed them
“ from each house as they passed, told that a ru-
» mm- of their mission had spread like wildfire. '
Painter‘s mind was not idle, and he realized
that is liberty, if not life, was in jeopardy; and
r the too, when freedom was most inestimable.
‘ Ho 'd not know what charges would b : brought
" nst him; but it was evident that the hint
' . van by Neil McGuire regardinnr the Kentucky
' tee troubled his mind no ,a little.

a few minutes the party drew rein in front
of the “ Twin Sycamores ”—so named from the
two gigantic trees of that s ies growing upon
either side of the door—w ere stood “Honest
Jim.” The captain whispered a few words in

ear.
“ Wal, of you wish it; thar’s nobody thar.”
' as he drew nearer to Poynter, he added in
thud tone: “ Lord love you.lsquar’,  sorry;
—-dog-goned so to see you yar. s rong
lines for a fine y‘ddng teller like you to be ’rested
on Ioch a charge l”‘
. “Thank you, Henderson,” cordially re lied
he clasped the iliisltle man’s and
yfi” It is rough, espec a y w on you are

“Be—now don't git med, Mr. Poynter, ’cause
I mean well—be you inneroenti” annoust asked
Henderson .

V a
a

 

/

E

v

i

need for law ers here.

 

“ Of anything unlawful or mean, I am. But
as 'I don’t know what charges are laid against
mez I can say no more."

‘ They sn you be one of these horse-thieves
an” counter oiters!” whispered the landlord.

” Then they lie!” angrily replied Poynter.

“ An’ wuss, a heap wusser'n that. They say
you murdered—“

‘ No conversing with the prisoner there, Jim
Henderson.” interrupted the leader, as he
emerged from the house.

“ I was jest 11—”

“No matter. Come. Thelong-roomisready,
and to spare time we will try the prisoner at
once," added McGuire, as he motioned his men
to enter.

The “ long~room" was that in which we saw
the first meeting of the Vi ilantos, and as all on-
tered, the door was close and securel bolted,
thus guarding against any intrusion. he long
table was pushed along until it touched the fur-
ther end of the wall, and upon this a single chair
was placed. Then a similar one was stood near
the other extremity for the risoner’s use.

“ Now, gentlemen,” said ell McGuire, “we
will vote for a jud e to try the case.”

By universal acc [nation he was elected, and
at once took his seat, when Poynter was directed
to assume his position. After some few objec-
tions b the prisoner, a jury was chosen and
ranwed alongside the judge, who then spoke:

“ on know the task that is before ou, and
the sooner it is over the better. We —”

“ One moment, Mr. McGuire—or I presume I
should say your Honor.” interru ted Poynter,
with an ironical bow. “You call thisa trial,
but is it not altogether one-sided? Here Iam
arrested, for what I know not; already treated
like a felon. Is this your idea of justice?”

“ You speak warmly, Mr. Poynter—”

“ And why not? You are all leagued against
me, and so far as I can see, do not intend giving
me a chance to clear myself from an char
you may bring against me. If I am to tri ,

demand it shall be according to law - and that
I have counsel; that I am informed w t crime
I am accused of, and allowed time to procure
witnesses!” hotly exclaimed the prisoner.

“ You shall have full justice, but we have no
_ The truth alone shall

1 mt car cgn emu non. You can defend your-
se an 1 any w: nesses are necessary the
shall be sent for. It you are shown to be innoy-
cent, then any reparation you demand shall be
given, but if guilty, by the God that made me,
you shall swing for it, if I have to draw the
ro myself!”

‘ One would think I was already condemned,
by the way you speak; but go on. What are
your charges?”

“Polk Redlawl”

II  I” .

“Your turn first. ‘Tell us your story. But
briefl and to the point,” ordered the “j ”

“ ell, I heard the prisoner was —”

“Never mind that now, but come to your
charge first."

“ Then I charge him with murdering Barton
Clowry, and nearly killing me!” snarled the
witness. _ .

“ You hear, pnsoner; guilty or not guilty?”

/

 

 

 

The Half-Breed Rival. ‘ 9

 

“ That I killed Clow , and tried toserve that
mongrel the same, I a mitobut it was in self-
defense, not murder," promptly replied Poyn-
f£52119: lies——”

“ Silence! Mr. Redlaw, no abuse if you please.
Statsvyour case,” ordered McGuire.

“ ell, as I was saying, I, together with
Barton Clowry was ordered to scout around
the house of t e ,risoner, and as soon as he
returned to infant the band so that they could
arrest him without his having a chance to es—
cape, as he would had they hunted him with
the whole league. We concealed ourselves by
the side of the road, and were talkin together
to pass away the time, when I hear a pistol-
shot, and Bart fell dead over into my lap.

“Before I could at up I saw the prisoner
come running towar us, and aiming at me he
fired in, but missed. Then he struck me
with his revolver, knocking me back as I tried
to t up; then kicked and pounded me upon
the and until he thought I was dead.

“I was only stunned, however, and when I
came to, I managed to crawl away, and find-
ing the Vi ilantes I told them my story. You
were not‘ ed, and oing with us, you know
the rest,” concluded elk; his speech being fol-
lowed by a deep, fierce murmur that told how
fully his a parently frank and truthful story
had been be ieved.

“Mr. McGuire, and you, gentlemen ” ex-
claimed Poynter springing to his feet, hut as
the position in w ich he was placed would not
allow him to stand erect, he sunk back into the
chair. “ Gentlemen! Every word that mon-
grel has said is a base, foul lie! and if you will
send for my housekeeper, you will see that it is

so.

“I was walking ceably along the lane
toward my house, w on two shots were fired
at me from an ambush. See; here is the mark
of one in my hat, and if you examine my left
shfiulder you can see the trace left by the
0 er.

“Did he say an thin about shooting at
me? You, Mr. Mc uire, now that I was not
wounded this forenoon when I saw you. I
admit shooting Clowry, but it was in self—de-
fense. Does it look reasonable, or even possi-
ble, that had I done as this sooundrel states, I
would have returned to the house to lie down
and also for hours? Would I not have mount-
ed and ed?” . ‘

“There is reason in what you say,” uttered
the judge. “ But you said you had proof; did
she witness the affair?” .

“ Yes; my negro housekeeper saw it all.”

“Fox, you and Bowers go and brin her
here immediately,” ordered he leader. hen
turning toward Polk Redlaw, he added, slowly:
“Well, an hear what he sa 5? Mind how

on rep y, for it is no light t ’ng to wrong-
ull accuse a man of such a crime.”

“ have told you the truth and nothin else,"
mllenly replied the accuser. “ He has h plenty
of time to tram: up a yarn and teach his wench
wait? to  m white manésawgrd ought to be
3 age 3 rs, any .

“ If true, it wflm.” . y

At this point the proceedings were interrupted

1.23;“ a. s r

 

 

by the entrance of the two messengers and aunt
Eunice, whom they had met almost at the door
—she having followed her master with the best
speed her unwieldy body was capable of.

We need not follow her evidence as it is already
known, and confirmed Poynter's story. But as
the prisoner glanced around the room, he was
surprised to note the still dark and vindictive
faces of the Vigilantes, who a peered anything
but convinced. Then he spo e, addressing the
judge:

“Well, sir, what is your decision?”

“On this score you are fully acquitted; but—”

“ ‘ On this charge 1’ Are there any more,
then?”

“ Two others. Passing counterfeit moneyI
and murder.” ’

“ Murder 1”

“ Yes; the murder of John Demon! !”

 

CHAPTER IV.
THE CRY FOR BLOOD!

CLAY POYNTER sat as it perfectly astounded
at these words; then, as he recovered from the
shock and glanced around him, he could read in
the faces of all that he was deemed guilty of this
black deed. Only one face but were this look;
one face, and that belonged to Aunt Eunice.

She stood with her hands thrown up. her eyes
rolling wildly, while her capacious mouth opened
and shut by jerks, as if she was trying to speak;
Then with an explosive snort, she spluttered:

“ Well, ef you hain‘t jest de biggest liar on
top 0? dis yere airthz den I don’t know nnflni
Mars’r Clay—my Chile—do dat ar’? He—w‘y,

ou cussed funnelly fools—Lord ’a.’ masay, ’poars
ike I’s gwme-to bu’st, ’deed it does!”

“Take her out, some of you," angrily ordered
the 'udge. t ' ,d hem “1

es, aun y, you r go new nterposed
Poynter. “ It’s all a mistake like the otheronc, -
and will be oVer soon."

He had not time to say more, for the old ne-
gress was unceremoniously hustled out of the
‘hcourt-rocém,” and the doogdagati?  Then
t e procee ings were resum . n be charge
of passing counterfeit money, J 11:) Henderson

testified that the prisoner had given him a base A "

five—dollar coin in payment of his score upon the
night of the first meeting; receiving change in
good silver. '

Was positive of the fact, because it was the
only coin of that denomination he had received"
that day. U n this Po ter admitted that he
might haye (fine so, un nowing, that the coin ,
was spurious, and instanced several cases of his
being served the same way, owing tothevut
amount of counterfeit money thchin circula- ,

lOD.‘ _

“Jonathan Green 1” called out the judge, act-
ing as crier.

‘ Hyar 1 be!” grunted a coarse voice, asaman

elbowed his way through the crowd toward the . '

open space reServed for witnesses.
He was a short, squat-built, villainous-looking
fellow of rhaps forty years, although
drink an excesses may have contributed new
of them. He cast a sidelong, sneakingfillance It
Po inter, and then suddenly averted 1: end. 
prisoner made a sud en motion us it about? _

 

 

   
    
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
    
  
 
 
 
    
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
    
 
  

 

10

to speak, but then sunk back once more, his eyes
steadily fixed upon Green’s face.

This action was not unnotcd by the jurors,
and more than one thought they could discern a
shudder pass over his form, as he darted a pecu-
liar look at the Witness. Green was sworn, and
proceeded to give in his testimony.

“ Yas, ’ir, ’ll toll ye the hiil truth, jist cs
straight as a dogwood, cf on’y you’ll promus ’at
no harm ’11 come arter it. He’s mighty ranibunc-
tious, he is, when his mad’s up.”

“ Never you mind about that, sir," impatiently
said McGuire, “ but give in your testimony.”

“ Wal, ei’ I must, why, so be it I’ve knowed
the pris’iier thar a consid’iible spell, ef not longer.
Me ’n’ him usen to be gre’t fri’nds an’ purdncrs
like, back to 01’ Kuintuck—”

“Gentlemen, is this scouiidrelly liar brought
here to swear away my life? As I live, I have
never seen the fellow half a dozen times; I didn‘t
even know his name, beyond that of ‘ Lying
Jack,’ and never spoke a word to him in my life !”
exclaimed the prisoner, hotly.

“ Silence l” ordered the judge.

“ Hyar’s my hat,” put in Green, extending the
rag that answered that purpose, with a comical
leer. “ I never told a bigger lie ’n’ that in my
life!”

“ Witness, you will go on with your evidence,
or, by all that’s good, I’ll give you a taste of
hickory oil!” thundered the judge.

“ Jes’ sol But, es I wai- sayin’, I knowed ’im
in 01’ Kaintuck jist afore be war driv’ away by
the Vigil:intes—”

“ For what reason?" asked one of the jurors.

“ I-don’t know. Mobbe ’twas ’cause he scat-
tered too much 0’ the queer, inebbe ’twasn’t,”
returned the witness, significantly. “Anyhow,
he left, an’ then I nixt see’d him hyar. One day
-——mobbe two weeks gone by—he come to me an’
says, says he, ‘ Green, my fri’nd, what you doin’,
anyhiiwl’ ‘Oh, jist sorter sloshin’ round, like,’
says .

“ Then arter a w’ilo he said he could put me in
a leetle way to make money, of Pd no ’bjection.
He said he‘s in the 01’ business, an’ wanted me to
take bolt and try to sell the ‘ queer,’ offerin‘ to
let me hev it fer fifteen dollars a hundred, till I
sorter got started, an’ found rig’lar customers.
I pertended to be all-fired glad, an’ be guv me
one hundred dollars on tick.”

“ But why didn’t you tell of this before?” de-
manded the judge.

“ An’ git sarved like Bart Clowry! Who was
I to go to, ontel I beam that you-‘uns was on
the trail? Es soon’s I knowed thet, I come aii’
told on, didn’t I l”

“ ave you any of the money with you?”

“Yas,” replied the witness, drawing a small

ckage from his bootleg. “Hyar it is. I kep’
it hid till to-day, ’cause of it ’d ’a’ bin found on
me afore, the fellers mought ’a’ thunk I’s one 0’
them ’ar tellers.”

The money, all in five-dollar coins, was passed
to the jurors who, after a careful examination,
pronounced it to be counterfeit. Surely, the
also began to look black for the prisoner, but he
still maintained a haughty look upon his ale,
handsome features, whithis eye flashed ack
the angry glances that who cast at him from
all sides.

The Half-Breed Rival.

 

 

  

“ That is all the evidence upon the first charge,
I believe,” spoke McGuire, but he was interrupt-
ed 1) a voice from the crowd:

“ egging pardon, judge, but there’s more
yet,” and the s maker, one of the two men who
had remained ‘llind at the prisoner’s house,
came forward, and held up a pair of (lies made
for coining half—eagles. “ Those toys were found
at the house concealed in the chimneyjumh.”

Amidst the greatest excitement, Frank Dalton
was sworn, and deposed to this effect. He and
Sam Gibson had made a seiirch of the premises
after Poynter’s capture. After a time they had
found the dies, concealed as stated; and a small
package of newly-coined money, tied up in an
old rag at the bottom of the prisoner‘s trui k,
and thinking they would be needed as evidence,
had brought them away.

Samuel Gibson, who was a well-known and re-
spected farmer, fully corroborated D nltoii’s
statement as to the discovery, and when be con-
cluded, any slight doubt that might have been
entertained as to the prisoner’s guilt, was entire-
ly dispelled.

The hoarse murmur that filled the room begun
to increase in volume, and dark, deadly hints
could be distinguished. Hints that soon grew
into open threats, calling for a conviction—a
conviction that would be equivalent to death.

Still the prisoner did not quail or tremble.
He even drew himself up with a holder defiance,
and not one man of them all but turned their
eyes away from his when their gaze met.

“ Peace gentlemen,” spoke McGuire, half
arising—the ceiling would allow no more—and
waving his hand to command silence. “All in
good time. There is yet another charge upon
which he must be tried. If justice pauses, it
will none the less be carried out.

“Wesley Sprowl!” he called out, once order
was restored.

A little weasel—faced man approached the
stand for witnesses. His form was bowed and
emaciated, as if from some recent severe illness,
and a hectic cough appeared to trouble him ex-
ceedingly, as he gave in his evidence, frequently
causing him to pause and lean heavily against
the table for support.

As soon as he had partially regained his breath,
the judge ordered him to proceed with his testi-
mon , after being duly sworn. But his first
Won 5 were lost to the majority of the assembly,
owing to his low tone; but he soon athered
strength, and every word was utter with a
clear distinctness, that from its deliberation,
every sentence appeared to be carefully weighed
before being spoken.

” I know the prisoner well, partly because he
is not a common-looking man, _but more so from
feeling a friendly interest in him. He has often
been at my house, and when I was nearly dead
with the chills, and had no money, he brought
me some quinine that cured me. I tell you this
so that you may see how impossible it would be
for me to mistake another for him.

“ I was feeling quite unwell all day yesterday,
and could not sleep any last night from that
cause. Many of you know that I have lines con-
stantly set in the river, by night as well as by
day. Somehow my mind at to dwelling upon
them, and I could not banish a, fancy that my

  

 

 

The Half-Breed Rivul.

     

I“, i 

 

curred to me, of there being a great big catfish
upon one of the lines.

“ At length I became so convinced that it was
so, I dressed. and went out toward the river.
Somehow Ididn’t think of taking any weapon
with me my mind wus so full of the big fish.

“ We] , I struck into the road at the cornfield,
and then, as the easiest way. I iollowed the road
intendingto strike the branch where a plain trail
leads to the river. But, just as I got to the old
‘ Ivy Elm,‘ I heard loud voices coming directly
toward me.

“ So I slipped behind the tree to let them pass,
for in these rough times you don’t know who you
might meet, and although I hadn’t anything
worth stealin r, it wouldn’t be the first man
who’d been ru bed out just for fun. But' they
were long in coming up, and a peared to stop
twice, talking in loud and, as thought, angry
tones, before they paused exactly in frontpf me.

“ By reaching out my arm I could have
touched the largest man, they were that close;
and by the voice I tho lit I could recognize the

risoner. I was so trig itcned that I could only
gistinguish one sentence spoken by the latter:
‘And you won’t let thatKentuckg/ scrape dro ?‘

“ Those were his exact words, and the ot er
man answered no. that he would tell all.

“Then I saw the larger one draw back his
right hand and could distinguish the gleam of
a knife. The name moment. the other man
stumbled and fell, muttering with a groan that
he was killed. Twice more he was stabbed, and
then the murderer appeared to be searching his

bod .

“Si could see him take something white from
an inner pocket and ut it into his breast, but
the shadow was so dlgnse that I could not tell
what it was. nor yet see their features plain
enough to be sure of their identity. But then
with a. curse, the murderer struck a match, an
lholding it close to the body, bent down his own

“ He was unfastening something from his vic-
tim’s shirt-bosom that fileamed and sparkled in
the light like lightning- ugs. The match lasted
only a moment, but that was long enough for
me to distinguish plainly the features of both
men. .

“ The murdered one -was the sandy-complex-
ioned man that has been staying with Mr. Mc-
Guire, and the other wasn"

Here the witness fultered for a moment. '

“ And the other?” demanded the jud .

“Kile murderer was the prisoner, 05:3,
tor

A d , hoarse cry of rage and fury ran
aroundeetgie crowd of spectators, but far above
it roared the clear, metallic tones of the ac-

cased:

“ It is false, every word—false as h—l I”

In vein the judfile shouted for order; his call
was unheeded. e crowd swa ed to and fro
for a moment. and then rushed orward, as one
man, to seize upon the prisoner.

But Neil McGuire ran along the table and

[stood beside Poynter. with a cocked revolver in

his hand. The next instant, obedient tnhis call,

v the jurors athered around, similarly armed.
Then McGu spoke, in atone that overpowered
the warm;

 

“Stand back—back with you! B the God ’ “'1
that made me, it one of you dare to y a. hand. r i , .
on the prisoner, I Will spatter the wall with ‘}
your brains!" “‘~” ‘

“ Hang the murderer—burn him 1” roared the
crowd.

“Once were, I say, stand back!" yelled the ,.
judge, threatening the foremost With his pistol. ,5“
“ Is he not in our power?” '

In a few moments order was restored. the
'uilge and jurors resuming their seats, while

esley Sprowl continued his story:

“ I nearly fell, from horror and astonishment,
when I saw who the murderer was, but man-
aged to keep still. If you ask why I didn’t con—
front him, or attcmpl to avenge John Demeut, I
say, 100k at us bot . He w1th ten times my
strength. and fully urm , while I was barely '
able to walk, nnd without a single weapon. '_ 

“ A t‘tcr a bit, the murderer took up the bod ', "
in his arms and carried it to the river, where  is.
heard asflash as if it had been cast itovtho
water. dared not stay longer, and stepging _
into the road, where I knew he could not our
my footsteps in the soft dirt, was about to mu ,1
when something bright caught my eye. .I I
snatched it up and then ran as fast as I could to
the house, where I hid the article in the bed.

“In the morning I was down will a hard ‘ '
shake, and it was nearly noon before I could:
get up. But then 1 came over here. andknow- ;  .
ing the head men of the league, I told *whntI‘ ., I,”
knew about the affair. What happened since, ,. ‘-
you all know.” . 'v '
‘2‘); But the thing that you found—what“ ' .

“ I have it heiir—seel" and after  i
a small parcel. be elevated his hand. ‘ ; l -

In it. was a piece 01' jewelry. It W the ,,
diamond cluster-pin lately worn byJoIm Dov:
me’nt ‘ ,

There was no uproar now. A deadlme ,-
had settled upon the assembly. Acalm the».-
spoke plainer than words or oaths.

It spoke of death. ' ‘ '

“ Gentlemen." slowly said the judge “ I need: .
not ask if this pin is rec ized: we allka it.
And it shows that a bi y. dastardly deed ,hu g ‘
been committed. The verbal evidence is ‘11-,
‘ggn in; but still we must not be rash. Let Ill

search the river for the body, so that there
maybeno doubt. It is too late now to con~_
elude to-night. Besides, the daylight isbefler. ‘
It will, show that we are not ashamed of our 39- '
tions.

“ And what shall we do with the mum”,-
interrupted one o! the jurors. ' -.

“We can guard him until to-morrow. Thur
room is safe, especially as he will be bound.”.- ~

“Well he is guilty of counterfeiting. only-
how. and for that we condemn him to receive ' _,;
one hundred lashes upon the here back. It
would be more but for the other charges.” _

“Yes, and to-nig‘at! We won’t homo
githout some fun," interrupted one of the spam I

tors. v '

“ I protestl" cried McGuire. “ Let himmflep'
but one punishment. Don't let’s not like “V:
a es. ,.
“ No. no,” yelled the crowd; “do it smug
else we’ll finish up the job oil-hand.” _ :-

 

 

   
 
  
   
    
       
  
    
 
   
  
  
  

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18

 

The excitement now grew intense; Weapons
were freely drawn and brandished, and although
the fudge stood over the prisoner with ready
revo ver, he was unsupported. The jurors had
gone with the majority.

“ Better give in, jud e," called out the juror
who hal pronounced t e sentence. “ You see
you can do no goo-i, and will only got hurt. You

ave done all one man can do, but the boys are
determined, even if costs a dozen lives."

" Don’t get ourself into trouble upon my ac-
count, Mr. cGuire," exclaimed the prisoner.
“ These devils want blood, and it may as well
come now as tovinorrOW. Besides," and here he
lowered his tone, “ remember your—family.”

 

CH AP HE R V.
3011mm LAW.

“ GENTLEMEN!” said the judge after a mo.
ment’s pause, “ if on ersist in this outrage, I
wash my hands 0 bot it and you, from this
main-ant. You can choose another judge, aul
another leader, for I shall not no longer as
either. I thought on were men, not savages.”

“ What matter ’ called out several voices,
“ he is not the only man that lives. Let him
slide, and out with the prisoner.“

The crawl surrel forward and surrounded
the table, yellin,r auj gro wling like wild beasts.
For a moment itsae ne las if Paynter melitatei
resistanm. as he draw hi nself up and grasped
the back of his chair, but if such was his inten-
tion, it was changed.

A dozen hands lifted him to the floor, where
he was securely noun 1. hiui ani foot—as he
had been until now entirely frei so far as bonds
were cooterned. Then he was lifted bodily
upovi thair sh )uiders, ea:h inau appearing eager
to he one of hi; be irers'. In this manner he was
couvevei from the room, followed by the hoot-
infi, yelling crowd; leaving but one man behind
— eil K: iira.

To say that the prisoner was not alarmed,
would oerhmpa be wrong, but he showed no out-
wari sign of win: so.

81 i linly P )ynter gawa a convulsive start. It
see nai to hi )1 he hal heard, above the din.
:0 no w )rd: spoken in a friendly tone—words of

or».

" K no w. :ti‘f 'l')')‘5l' lip, square.
or!" arm! 1111!"

Tum were the vords he had, or thought he
had heard, -=loae to his ear, and turned his eyes
wonderiu gly to that point. H3 could distinguish
the rough features of Jack F'vffe, the man who
had knocked Polk Redlaw down at the time of
arrest.

But he had no time for a question, or any-
thing beyond seeing that Fytfe supported his
right shoulder; for the next moment he was
rudely cast down at the foot of one of the gigan-
tic sycanores, beside the outer door. The tu-
mult was hll'l‘lbl" and for a time nothing was
done, each man issuing orders, but no one ap-
pearing to care about executing them.

“Jim Heniwrsoni’ yelled Polk Redlaw, who
now took a decided lead with the brutalized
crowd, “fetch out some cords, rope or some-
thing, quick i”

“ Quick y‘urself, Injuu Polk,” growled the

We‘ll git you

The Half-Breed Rival.

 

 

little host. “ I hain’t y‘ur nigger. Y‘u’re black
enough to wait on y’urself!”

“ curses on you, you little hop—toadl" foamed
Polk. “Call me that again, and I'll blow a
hole through you big enough to kick a dog
through!"

“ Ef so be you know when y'ur well off, Mr.
\Vhite Man, es—quire,” cooll returned Jim,
drawing his revolver; “you‘l not buck ag’in'
mo. Others may be as quick on the trigger us
you be, if not more so.”

“ Don’t get to fighting among yourselves “ in-
terrupted seves, with aseriesof oaths. “ We’ve
enou h todo now. Here‘s a couple of haltcrs
that‘l answer bully.”

But during this byplny, Clay Poynter had re-
ceived considerable encouragement from Jack
Fyfl'e, who still crouched over him, apparently
to prevent his arising.

“ Don’t gi’n up. straunger,“ he had whispered.
“ We’ll hev you free afore long."

“ Who are you, and what do you mean!" asked
Poyntor.

“ You’ll see. I‘ve sent‘arter the boys, an’ ef
nothiu’ happins, they’ll be hyar in three hours.
But ou’ll hev to take the hidin’ though. We
hain t strong enough to prevent tit 1t."

Nothing more was said, for Redlaw and
Ree ves pressed forward, and with several brutal
kicks from the mongrel, Poynter was lifted up
and his arms unbound, two men clinging to
each as though they anticipated an attempt at
escape. But if so, they were disapgointeil.

The prisoner knew that it woul be followed
by certain death.

He was drawn up to the tree, his arms out‘
stretched to their utmost extent, and then his
wrists were connected by the halters, another
securing his body. By this time the men who
hail been dispatched after the instruments of
torture returned bearing their hands full of
long, lithe hickory rods.

And then the torture began. The supple rods
whistled through the air, and paused with a
hissing crack; the gore started out as the tender
skin was torn and lacerated. But although the
pain and agony must have been fearful, as the
punishment proceeded, not a groan or an un-
even breath proclaimed the fact.

Polk Redlaw, Jonathan Green and Alfred
Wigan lied the rods, and as may be supposed,
they di not s are their strength. But severe
as were their lows, they failed in drawing a
single manifestation of pain from the prisoner,
however slight. And then the one hundred
lashes were counted, fairly.

The prisoner was let down from his position,
and Jack Fyffe helped him to adjust his gar-
ments, managing to whisper a cheering word
without being overheard by the mob. Then
Povnter spoke, not a tremor or uaver betray-
ing what he had suffered from t e fearful or-
deal. in his voice:

“You three devils. mark my words. If you
are alive one week from to-day, I give you leave
to play this game over again."

“ We will live to see you dance on nothing,
anyhow." sneered the mongrel.

“ That’s enough for to-night,” interrupted
Henry Reeves, the juror who had so suddenly
taken a leading part in the proceedings, press-

   

The Half-Breed Rival.

     

18

 

ing forward and laying his hand upon Poyntcr's
shoulder. “Come, you will stay in the ‘ long-
rooni’ to-night, and to 1prevent you from sleep—
ing uneasily I will ad that you will be hung
tomorrow, for murder."

“Thank you for nothing!” curtly replied the
prisoner. ‘ I have you to thank for this favor,
and look you. it’s a debt that will be paid; yes
paid, and- with compound interest added," sni

oynter.

‘ 0h, I’ll credit you,” laughed Reeves. “I
always was accommodating. But in with you,”
he added. giving him a rude shove as they en-
tered the room.

Po nter would have fallen had not he been
can t by Jack Fyi'l’e, who whispered:

“ f you hyar a rumpus outsiide, don‘t be
’larmed, ’cause it’ll on’y be fri‘nds. Mind an’
keep awake. "

A pressure of the hand told that Poynter un-
derstood his meaning, and then, after being
bound, the prisoner was left alone in the room.
Some half a dozen guards were posted around
the building, with instructions to shoot him if
he attem ted an escape; and then the Vigilantes
separa , each man wending his way home-
ward.

The guards were in high glee. and having
each one inane ed to procure a flask of liquor
from the obliging host, determined to enjoy
their watch to the best of their ability.

The were gathered in couples upon either
side 0 the building, thus surrounding the place
and preventing either egress or ingress without
their knowledge. They little dreamed of the
fate that awaited them.

Perhaps an hour after the dispersal, a band of
horsemen drew rein ata half-mile from the lit-
tle hamlet, on the outer edge of Which stood the
“Twin Sycamores,” and dismounting, threw
themselves upon the ground, while one of their
number stole away on foot. He soon drew near
the tavern, and smking flat upon his stomach,
be an cautiously circling the building.

e could approach near enough, thanks to
the darkness, to distinguish the inutterings of
the guards—thus learning their exact number
and position. He counted six, and thought it
was all, but he overlooked Polk Redlaw, who
had fallen intoadoze, lying close to the wall,
so that he seemed to form a portion of it.

Had he been awake he could not have helped
observing the say, who, thinking that end of the
house unguard , passed close by him. Mutter-
ing his surprise, the man crept away from the
tavern, and onc'.‘ beyond ear-shot, rose to his
feet and sped rapidly away to where he had left
his companions.

' When near them he muttered the howl of the
ellow wolf and upon the si nal being answered,
idly advanced and sto before the band.
One. a tall, herculean man, stepped forward and
whis red:

“ ell. Fyfle. what luck?“

“It’s all hunky,” replied Jack, for it was
indeed he, “an’ a easy job. On’y SLX feilers,
an’ they half drunk. at not more so," and then
he clearly described the position each man oc-
cu ied.

KNOW, comrades," added he who appeared to
be the leader, “ you know what we are after. A

 

friend, and one of us, is in danger. Our law
says that we must assist each other, and now is
the time. You have heard what Fyife sa 5.
These men must he secured without be ng
harmed if possible, but if they cut u rough
why a knife is the bust remed . The 833 blood
shed, the better, for tins section is getting un-
comfortably hot already. You understand
me?

A murmur of general assent; then he added:

“ We will ride to the edge of the timber, and
then leave the horses. We must take them by
surprise; and mind you, when once we have got
our friend, quurk‘s the word, for we will have
the Vigilantes after us, hot~footed."

In a few moments the designated point of
woods was reached, and disniountin , the her as
were secured; after which the ban slealtbily
proceeded toward the tavern, using every pre-
caution to avoid discovery. Then four men
crept toward each of the sides where the double
guard Were posted.

The remainder held themselves in readiness to
rush forward, in case their comrades should
need any help. Four of the men were secured
without any noise, other than a slight scuffle.
but the other party were not so fortunate.

One of the guards caught a glimpse of the
rescuers, and hailed them. The answer was an
instant rush, at which the uard fired a shot
that brought one of his assi nuts to the ground.

But he never fired another, for a long knife
wus plunged downward, the steel grittiug as it
severed his breast—bone, and with one faint
gurgle, Alfred Wigan was a dead man.

CHAPTER VI.
run HUMAN BLOODHOUND.

AT the first report. Polk Redlaw s rung tohis
feet, with all the indisn instincts of his nature
fully aroused. He caught a glimpse of the main
body rushing forward, and not knowing who
they were, il(‘dl‘0p )ed to the ground and lided
to a safe distance. mt from whence be con d still
see those out in the open ground.

At first he thought it was the Vigilance Com-
mittee returned to finish up their work. but he
was not certain, and deeming discretion the
better course, determined to keep shady until he
knew what card to play. If a rescue, he re-
solved to do them wherever they might go. for
his hatred 0 Poynter could only be assuaged by
the latter‘s death.

When the double tragedy was over, and the
other guards secured, the hand rushed forward
and forcibly burst in the door of the tavern,
and were rocecdin toward the “ lon -room,
when Hen erson cal ed out from the lo t:

“ Who the devil air you. an‘ what ya want?"

“ Better shet y‘ur eyes an’ ears, ‘ Honest
Jim ’ so't you won’t hev to lie w on you tell the
Vigilantes thet you don't know who tuck the
pris’ner,” returned Jack Fyfl’e. significantly.

“ Ef you don’t do nothin’ else, why I won’t
know any on ye at all. An’ of ye like, jesttake
n good swig a iece, an’ I’ll charge it to mint
"11’ loss," laughed the host. who apparent y was
not averse to having Poynter escape the doom
that threatened him.

“Bully for you, 01’ hoes; you won’t ion any

  
    
   
    
     
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
    
  
   
  
     
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
 
 
   
   

 

-‘ “case-N xvr:

   

.14 ' ' 'l‘he Hamel-«a Rival.

 

,thin’ by it!” was the cry. and his invitation was
complied with two or three times over.

Onlv pausing forone huge gulp of the liquor,
Jack Fyfle unbarrerl the door, and soon severed
the cords that ham rel Poynter, who, after
cbafln his anumbe limbs, thanks to the skill
‘ Polk aw had shown in draw‘ng the knots,
' ,, emerged from the long-room, a free man once
m-Ire.’

He glanced around him with not a little
curiosity, scanning the forms and features of
his rescuers as thoroughly as was practicable by
the dim. flickering light cast by the one rude
lamp. But if he recognized any of them, ex-
. cepting Fyfle, he did not show it by word or

si n.
 . ‘ Come, boys,” spoke up the tall man we have

_noted before, “ we must make tracks, or those
Vigilantes wxllbe down upon us. They must
have heard the rumpus, I reckon.”
 " But what shall we do with the prisoners -—
let them go?” ’

,“No; take them alon .
I « es, so that if any 0 our fellows are strung

- up, we can retaliate. Five of them, isn’t

re
“ Yes; but about Sent?”
"Maltby‘l"
‘ “ Yes. He’s dead.”
, F‘Take him along. If we leave him -here,
‘they’ll was him into the first hollow, and he
win too good a man for that.”

“ You seem to be leader here, sir," said Po n-
ter. lacinga hand upon the man‘s shoul er.
ff What do on intend doing with me?”

‘f Well, t at depends mainly n n yourself.
,} Ifryou have had enough of these igilance fel-

lows, why, come wuth us. We never go back
' ixupon a fellow-craftsman,” returned the man

cordial] .
“Andyyou are—”

“The same as, yourself; free livers is our

name for it. Those whom we favor with our

c 11 us horse-thieves and counterfeiters,”
hughed leader.

.‘ Ah!” muttered Poynter, and bending his
head as if in deep thmfiht.

“ All ready, Tamelt
. , 9‘ All ready, sir,” was the prompt reply, and
, the little band left the house.

' Jack F yite directed Poynter to a horse, which,
with great delifilét and surprise, he found was
hiepwn noble that had been taken when
» haves arrested. The five prisoners were also
timoanted, their horses having been found in the
 stable: ,but they rode not by their own
. aid. Strong cords bound them to the saddle so
securely that even had they tried- to cast them-
, selves to the ground. the effort would have
‘r‘ ‘ been unsuccessful. '

> Poynter and Iayife rode together, as they
struck intoa rapi lope along the soft, loamy
road, but not until quite clear of the neighbor-
hood, did either of them s it.

We’ll keep ’em as

   
   
  
    
  
   
   
  
  
 
    
  

mos-tor, 'tany rate,” chuckled Fyfle.

“ as, but how did it all come about?” queried
Poynter, who did not appear very mu'-h at
case. when we, consider what he had escaped.

'. "‘Wal, in co'se we wasn’t a-goin’ to see. a
- trl’nd jerked up theta-way, ’thout helpin‘ ’im.

pea
‘ A ‘9 Wal, we’ve sp’ilt the fun 0‘ them hounds ter-' ter

 

So's soon as I see’d how it war gwine to work, I
sent Sant Maltby to let the cap’n know, an’
whar I’d meet ’em to 'xplain, like. Then we
crawled up, an' tuck the guard, but poor Sant
got throwed clean in his tracks. The rest you
know." '

“ Who were the men you took prisoners?"

“ Thor’s one on ’em you'll be. glad ter see——
Jon’than Green." .

“ Ha!" exclaimed Poynter: “ the lying sconn-
di'ell But, Jack, my friend, do you know
you’ve made a mistake?”

“ How so?” -

“ I am no counterfeiter—mever was."

“ Thunder, you say l” ejaculated Fyfl'e.

“ It’s the truth,” soberly afllrmed Poynter.
“ I have nevor committed a deed against the
law, to my knowledge, in my life.”

“ But, the evidence ’5"

“ Was one tissue of falsehood from first to
last! Why it was started, or who was the one
who planned it, I know no more than you do;
but I will find out if it takes a lifetime,” hotly
exclaimed Poynter. '

“Hello, my friends, what’s up here?” asked
the leader, falling back beside the two men at
the sound of Poynter’s excited tones. “ I‘Tot
quarreling, I hope?”

“ No, sir, I owe him too much for that," warm-
ly responded Poynter. “ But, are you the cap-
tain?”

“ For the time being, I am. Why?” said the
man, somewhat surprised at the other’s tone.

“ Then I must speak with you, fora moment."

“ Go on I have no secrets from Jerk.”

“ Well,’ slow! uttered Poynier, “from what
I have heard, I lieve you labor under a serious
mistake, regarding who and what I am.”

“ How so?” interrupted the leader. “ Are not
you the man that the Vigilance Committee ar-
rested and condemned?”

“ I am; as my back can testify!” bitterly grit-
ted the oung man.

“We 1. then, where‘s the mistake?”

“In this: I was wrongfully accused. I have
never, knowingly, passed a counterfeit coin, and i
as for murder. there is no blood upon my hands,
save that shed in self-defense.”

“ Whe-ewl” whistled the outlaw. “But Jack
told me the evidence was complete l”

“ It was not his fault for thinking so. I would
have believed the same in his place. But I am
speaking the truth, and thought it best to tell
you how the case stands, lest you should think
me a traitor or a spy, in case the truth ever
comes out.” 7 ‘

“You were ri ht. But what do you intend
doing? The hun will be hot for you, as, if a
man would take all that trouble and ex use to
put you out of the way, legally, be wil not let
you on? so easily.” .

“ I, know that; and in perfect freedom is the
only chance of my ever clearing myself. I frank-
ly own that I am puzzled," slowly replied Poyn-

“Well, sir, I am not often mistaken in a man,

if I do say it myself,” added the outlaw leader,

after a pause. “And now I make you a rop-

osition. Will you accept my h itality or a

(fit-3w (lgys, or weeks, until this exc tement cools
own

 



 

The Half-Breed Riva}.

15

 

“Are you in earnest, and would you trust a
stranger so far?" ejaculated Poynter, in aston-
ishmcnt.

“ Not every one, I admit,” laughed the other.
“But you I can, and will; and if necessary, will
answer to the band, for your honor, with my
own life. But understand me: upon no account
are you to divulge what you hear or see; nor the
places we will take you to, even if your life de-
pended upon it, unless we give you permission.
And in return, you will be left free to come and
go, as you will. You will not be asked, or ex—
peet d, to do anything against your conscience;
and if you should need any assistance that we
can give, you have but to say as much."

“ hat is far more than I could expect, and I
sincerely thank you for it,” rejoined I’oynter,
warmly clasping the outlaw’s hand. “ But Iain
ata loss to imagine the cause of such generosity.”

“ It is easy told. You are an innocent man,
unjustly accused and condemned; and I was
once the same. False friends and misfortunes
have made me what I now am, and I still have
some of the better feeling in my heart, if I am
an outcast, a branded felon.

“ Besides, I feel a strange liking foryou; why,
or from what cause I know not, unless from the
resemblance u u this one point.”

“Well, sir,’ exclaimed the escaped prisoner,
“ I will gladly accept your offer, and if there is
any return that I can make, without——"

“ I understand you,” interrupted the outlaw,
with a tinge of melancholy in his tones, “and
would he the last man in the world to ask you to
forfeit your feeling of self-respect. But come,”
he added, again assuming his old air of reckless
gayety. . “ We have fallen behind, and they’ll
think we are desei'tcrs. Spur upl”

“ But one moment. Have we far to go?”

“Less than two miles, now," was the reply.
it But why?”

“Nothing much: only I would rather be in
the neighborhood, for—”

“ For certain reasons, I presume,” laughed
the outlaw leader. “ But never mind I was
young once myself, although I don‘t look much

ike it now," and he ended with a half sigh.

Poynter’s curiosity was keenly aroused by the
language and manner of his strangely-acquired
friend, so different from what might have been
expected; and found himself wishing for a bet-
ter chance to observe his features than was af-
forded by the dim, uncertain light.

As he peered toward him, Clay could seethat it
was a robust, werful form, nearly it' not quite
as much so as is own. Of the features he could
distinguish naught save the glitter of a air of
sparkling eyes, and the long, flowing air of
almost snowy whiteness, as was also the luxuri—
ant beard and mustache.

As we said, Polk Redlaw resolved to dog the
rescuing party wherever they might go, spurred
on by his bitter hatred of Clay P0 nter. And
he was just the person to accomp ish this if it
la in human power to do so.

hen he saw Poynter emerge from the tavern
under the bright glare of the torch carried by
Jack Fytfe, unbound and in freedom, the heavy
rifle rose as if by instinct to his cheek, and, for
a moment, the wings of death again appeared to
overshadow the young man.

 

But the gun was lowered. The mongrel was
not satisfied with such a revenge. His hatred
was too intense; he required a death of shame—-
of degradation: :1 death that would destroy both
the life and honor of his foe, and leave a record
at which the finger of scorn and contempt would
be minted.

hen the cavulcndc plunged into the dark-
ness of the tree—shadowwl road. the human
bloodhound followed hard upon the scent. His
rillc tl'axilcd in one hand, his head and neck
craned forward, Polk Rcdluw sped along with
noiseless strides that appeared to be made with-
out an effort.

So steady, silent and uniform was his progress
that it seemed like a magnificent iece of ma-
chinery, rather than a man. His ndian blood
shone forth now in his free and untrammeled
motion. as he kept at a certain distance in the
rear of the rescuers, the same whether they rode
fast or slow.

From his crouching osition he could not be
seen upon the shadowe( read, while those whom
he was trailing, being mounted, could quite
plainly be distinguished. But for a time we
must turn elsewhere.

 

CHAPTER VII.
.6. SAD HISTORY.

WHEN Neil McGuire returned home from the
"‘ Twin Sycamores," disgusted at the brutality
displayed b his neirhbors and comrades, he
found his taughter ora sitting up awaiting
him, late as it was, the fearful suspense and ter-
ror she had endured plainly imprinted upon her
pale and worn countenance.

Shocked at the change, and strongly excited
by the events of the last few hours, McGuire
told her all, winding up by saying that he
feared the prisoner would not live to see another
day dawn. Nora gave one low cry and swooned,
and when she recovered from it a strong fever
set in.

There was no doctor nearer than the fort,
even if he could be induced to journey so far,
and as old Aunt Eunice had gained quite a repu-
tation as a nurse. she was called in, while the
almost distracted father set out for medical aid.
The doctor came, but his aid was not needed;
the fever had been broken, and, strange to say
Norn was up and about the house in as apparent
good health as ever.

But if the worthy farmer was surprised, we,
who are in the secret, need not be. It was,
perhaps, owing to a certain message brought by‘
Aunt Eunice, who kindly turned her [me
while it was being perused, and when she did
look it had disa peared; but from the frequent
journeys made y the invalid’s band to the
region of the heart, it is not difficult to guess
where.

The note was from Clay Poynter, briefly de-
tailing the facts of his escape, stating that he
was in a place of safety, and imploring an inter-
view, leaving the time and place to her, of
which he could be informed by Aunt Eunice.
Nora did not hesitate about granting the re-
quest, but the return of her father necessitated
a postponement, greatly to the disappointment
of the lover, who was disgusted at only meet-

 

 

 

    
    
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
   
    
   
  
  
  
    
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
  
   
  
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
    
  
  
  
 

  

18

ing his old housekeeper when he expected a
sweetheart.

Neil McGuire was sorely puzzled and disturbed
about something and soon opened his mind to
Nora the day of his return. It was after supper,
and she had brought him his filled pipe, when he
lgade her sit down—that he had something to tell

er.

“ Do you know, get, that I half-way fear we
gov?” been doing lay Poynter a great injus-

ice

“ Ob father, I knew it all along!”

“ Did you, indeed? Well, as I said, I am afraid
we have been mistaken, although I am not quite
certain. And the reason I think so is this:

“ It was late in the evenin when I got to the
fort, and as the doctor would not start out that
same night, I went over to the city: as I could
not bear to sit still while thinking of the danger
you mi ht be in. It was raining, and feeling
cold an chilly, I stepped into a saloon to get a
drink, when I met a man who was just a-coming
ou .

“ I was so astonished that you could have
knocked me down with a wheat-straw, for I
would have sworn he was none other than John
Dementl But while I stood there, he slip1)“(l
out, and when I started after him, he was in me.
I hunted for an hour, but without success; I
could not find him again.”

“ And there was no mistake?” anxiously asked
Nora.

"There may have been. I might have been
deceived, and took some other person for him.
If it was Dement, he had his whiskers colored
black, and his hair trimmed, and of the same
color. But I caught his full eye, and you know
it is not a common one.”

“Yes, it makes me think of a rattlesnake’s,”
shuddered the maiden.

“Well, even if he is innocent about the mur-
der, there is the other charge,” added McGuire.

“ But that may be false, too.”

“I don‘t think so. And yet.” he added, after
a slight pause, “ he didn’t act like a guilty
man.” .
Nora. did not answer, although strongly
tempted to do so, for fear she would reveal
more than was prudent, and in a short time both

retired.

A little after noon, on the next day, had Neil
McGuire lanced up from his Work back of the
house and ooked almost due west, he would have
seen the trim, dainty form of his daughter, as
she disappeared in the woods, accompanied by
Aunt Eunice. And perhaps his mind would have
been still more perturbed had he witnessed the
fervor with which a certain stalwart, handsome
man embraced Nora, while her antiquated du-
enna placidly stared at the bushy top of a neigh-
boring tree.

Whatever it was Aunt Eunice saw, it must
have been very interesting, for there she stared,
and never once looked around until her name
was called. Then she seated herself at a little
distance from the lovers, pulling out from her

ket a huge stocking, that could only be in-
nded for one person in the settlement, unless
worn upon both feet at once, industrioust knit—
ting, as deaf now as she had been blind before.
We need record but one passage in the con-

The Half-Breed Rival.

 

 

versation, as the remainder was foreign to our
pur lose.

“ ’ell, pet, I will explain what your father
meant when alluding to my leaving Kentucky.
It is true, I did leave there to save my life, much
as l fled from here, although matters had not
gone quite so far then.

“ When I was but a child, my father was ac-
cused—falsely, as 1 ever will maintain, althou h
I have no proof—0f belonging to Sturdevan ’a
gang of counterfeiters and horse-thieves. He
was arrested and thrown into prison, but he
never had a trial. A band of disguised men
forced the jail, and taking him from his cell,
proceeded to a grove some four miles distant,
and hung him like a dogl

“It was nearly a month before the remains
were found, by a man hunting cattle, and then,
after his burial, my mother sickened, dying
within the same year. I was but eleven years
old then, and although so young, these fearful
events made me ties )erate.

“The nei hbors a looked upon me as a sort of
outrast, am taught their children to shun me
as thou h I were a moral pest. This did not help
me muc , and as I grew older, I was taunted
and hooted at, for my father’s crime]

“ But, as my muscles grew they found this fast
becoming a dangerous sport, for I bitterly re-
sonted every insult, even from those twice and
thrive my own age. I had no relations, not even
a friend to lean upon, or towhom I could turn
for aid or counsel. And thus I irew up!

“I admit beiu wild and rec less; ut I can
honestly sa that never once committed a mean
or crimina deed. And yet I was often accused
in whispers, of being both a counterfeiter and a
horse-thief! Almost any one would have left the
place in disgust; but I did not. The onl beings
that I had ever loved were lying in t 9 little
yard back of our house.

“ I often, when my trials had been unusually
hitter, have spent the livelong night beside the
graves of my parents, sobbing as if my heart
would break; and it is to those sacred influences
alone that I attribute my remaining clear of a
life of crime.

“ \Vell, I was at length openly arrested, but as
I managed to escape before trial, I never learned
who was my accuser. It would have been almost
certain death to remain there then, as I had no
friends who could assist me to clear myself, and
so I lied.

“ I went to Arkansas, near Merton, and for a
time all went well. I entered a homestead, and
for several years I worked diligently on it; and
then sold it for a fair price, intending to open a
store. But my enemies followed me even there,
and the same suspicions Were noised about. I
was avoided by all respectable persons as though
I had the plague.

“In disgust I left the place, and from that
time until I came here, I wandered far and near,
living an aimless life until I thought I had once
more eluded my pursuers. But you have seen
how sadlv I was mistaken; and here, Just as life
was brightest, the same rumors were whispered
abroad, the old charges were brought up against
me. I was seized and flogged like a dog!”

“Poor Clay!” murmured Nora, through the
i has called forth by the sad history of her

   

 

 

   

The Half-Breed Rival.

1'!

 

 

lover’s life, as she clasped his hand in hers, as if
to still further testify her boundless faith in his
truth and honesty.

“ Yes, but I go no further. I have found you,
and now I have an additional incentive to clear
myself, and baffle my secret enemy, whoever he
may be. But howl—that is the question.”

After sonic further conversation, and an ap-
pointment being made for another meeting, the
lovers separated, Nora and Eunice returning to
the house, while Poyntcr walked rapidly away
toward his own building.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
A DELECTABLE CONFAB.

AFTER leaving Nora, Poynter walked swiftly
in the direction of his own house, that had been
closed ever since Aunt Eunice had been called in
to attend Nora during her sickness. But he ke it
a good lookout as he proceeded, lest he should
be discovered by some of those kind friends whose
hospitality he had abandoned so hastily, a few
da 5 before.

e had found a, secure refuge with the outlaw
band who had rescued him from the power of
the Vigilance Committee, where be resolved to
remain until his plans for the future were fully
matured, at the urgent request of the leader.
This man had evinced a strong interest in I’oyn—
ter, and pledged his own as well as the assistance
of the band, if it should prove necessary, in any

wa .

Ji’ist as Poynter was about to cross the crest of
a bill, be heard the uick thud of a horse’s hoofs
coming at full spec-t upon the opposite side of
the rise, and darted at once into the thicket of
bushes upon the left side of the road. Cautious-
ly parting the leafy screen, so that he could ob-
serve the extreme summit of the rise, Poynter
awaited the horseman’s approach.

Scarcely had he done so when the rider rose
the crest, and drawing rein, paused and glanced
around him. With a half-surprised curse,
Poynter raised his heavy rifle, while the sharp
click sounded clear and distinct as the hammer
was 3 run back: but then be lowered it.

“T e lying do i For a cent I’d plug him, if
only to save Juc ge Lynch ’ a job.”

he horse and rider were standing out in bold
relief a ainst the clear sky, but still the ani-
bushed ugitive could tell that Polk Redlaw, the
half-breed, stood before him.

Redlaw gppeared to be expecting some one, as
Clay judg from his manner, and after a few
minutes“ waiting, he , placed his fingers to his
mouth, and blew a shrill, piercing blast, that
echoed from int to oint before (lying down
to nothing. carcely ad the sounds ceased,
when a second pea] came whistling along the
rid e as if in answer; to which Polk replied,
an then dismounted.

In a few moments a second man appeared up-
on foot, with his long rifle carried at a trail,
and the two men greeted each other as if greatly
pleased at the meeting. Again the. steely glitter
shone in Poynter’s eyes, while he hit his lips
fiercely as if to repress his emotions, when he
recognized the new-comer.

“ Ahl” he gritted as he crouched forward.
“Wesley Sprowll There’s deviltry on foot whi ‘l!

 

such men meet together, and by all that's good,
I’ll scent it outl”

The two men now {Linn ed into nlittle side-

trail, Redlaw leading is orse, and no sooner
had they disappeared than Poynter retreated
until around the bend, where he glided across
the road, and in a few moments struck their
trail; keeping just without the inth, where, if
b any chalice the men he. was ogging should
gihnce back, he would be out of si l“ht.
The proceeded leisurely enoug l, and he had
no difl’i
horse’s tread, whi 0 his own footsteps weiu
deadened upon the moist soil. After proceeding
thus for nearly half a mile, the ta 0 men paused,
and slip dug the bit from his horse‘s mouth,
Polk Rt law allowed it to feed at will while he
and ngowl seated themselves upon the green—
sward month a huge oak tree.

Poynter, by dint of cautious creeping, man-
aged to gain a dense clump of bushes at only
a few yards in the rear of their position, where
he crouched down with his weapons ready for
instant use, in case he should be diseovered.
But they gave no sign of suspecting an intru-
der, am conversed in an easy, careless st 16,
very much to Poynter’s cdii'lcation. The rat
of this he missed, owing tothe task he had to
perform but he listened intently.

“ Well,” Polk Redlaw was saying, “ they did
not suspect any person was followin them,
althoug i I kept‘them in si ht the entire stance.
And that was no slouch o a job either, for they
were in a lope most of the way, and I began to
be pretty Well blown before they gave any signs
of halting.

“ But then they paused and a. siglnal was
sounded; and from the re 1y I knew t at I had
dogged them home. .And Iwas right, for in an-
other ten minutes the whole crowd was gathered
in a huddle, unsaddliiig their horses, while a
dozen or so more were building fires as if the en-
tire couiitry belonged to them.

“ I lay low, taking notes, and I saw enough in
the next hour tosatisfy me thatI had really
tracked them to the den of the horse-thievrs;
for there were several tents and regular fire-
places fixed up, while the ground was trumped
hard and dry.”

“ And where was that?” inquired Sprowl,
curiously.

“Well, you’ll let it go no further, of course,”

added Redlaw, after a slight pantie. “ You
know where Han Hooker killed the big bear,
last fall; near the ‘Turkey branch?” Just due
West along tlae creek about a. quarter, is the
s o .
p“ But as I was spying around, a cursed dog
somehow got scent of me, and as I saw him
circling around, I lit out, for if they had found
me there, nothing would have saved in hide. I
cut sticks in a hurry, as I got out of t eir hear-
ing, but the brute took my trail, and in a few
moments I could hear him coming, hot foot,
growling like a painter.

“ I was afraid to burn p: wder, so I just hunk-
ered down behind a big rock, and drew my
butcher. As the imp turned the corner, I grab-
bed his nese and twisted him down; then a cut
or two and he was quieted.

“But I’d seen enough, so I started for home,

culty in kee ing within ear-shot of the.

    
   
    
   
  
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
    
   
     
  
 
    
   
   

I” , hurry.
“ That de ends,” replied the other' as he res

 

 

 

 

I 13 The Half-Breed Rival.

with the dog on my shoulder—401‘ I was afraid to
leave him where the knife-cuts might ’a’ told
tales—41nd carried him until at a safe distance.7
when I dropped him over the bank into the
creek. And thcro my internal luck still followed
me, for his claw caught in my shirt and over I
went, headsfirst, plump onto the rocks.

“ Luckily my head took the dog for a pillow,
and only at a. little bruised and stunned—like;
but when came to I found that my right anho
was either broken or badly s )rainod. I managed
to climb up to the level, alt ough every motion
nearly made me yell out, but there I was stuck!

“ I knew that if my life depended upon it, I
could not have got to the town, as I was. and so
I lay there, thinking what to do next. At last I

I slid down the bank, cut off a hind quarter of the
dog. and then managed to drag myself to the
. ‘Hole—in-the—Wall’——you remember? ~—where I lay
until this morning two hours after sunrise, I saw
,a horse—that one yonder, it was—straying along
the branch, and as he was tame I managed to
catch him; rigged a halter from a piece of lime-
bark, and lit out for town, where I got, safe and
finnd’, after giving you the hint to meet me

re.

‘ “ Well, what’d you want, anyhow?” asked

Sprawl.

“ Ina moment. You see I told old Reeves
about the hole I’d found, and offered to guide
him to it, after dark, to—night. So he. tent out
messengers, and by this time the Vigilantes are
all u to snufl. -

‘ “ on may be called on to help. but if so, I
want you to play sick; have a thundering shake,
Or something of the sort.”

‘ “ Just what I’d ’a’ done anyhow,” drny re
sponded Sprowl. “ I have no notion of running
my head into the hands of that cursed Poynter.
Meagreson‘didn’t pay me for that.”

“ Well then, you’d just as lieve make a ‘ double

. sawbuck’ as not, if by doing so you spite Poyn-
ter and run no risks?”

“,Twenty dollars?”

“ Yes. And for half an,h0ur’s wor .”

_. “Wouldn’t 1? Why the old man only gave me

‘ a hundred for swearing against PoyntermHellol

what’sthat?” he added, starting to his feet, and

'_lookinar toward the bushes where Poynter was
’ ooncea ed.

' , The latter had given .a sudden start, as he
caught the hint dropped by Sprowl, that could

I only refer to the charge of murder that had been
‘ brought against him. But who was this Meagre
son, or the “ old man?”

, “Bah!” granted Polk, lazily turning his head
“don’t get scart at your own shadow. I heard
it too. but it’s only my horse. Come. I'm in a

Will you earn the money?”

v seated himse , “ upon what it is."

“ Well, I know you’ll never peach—"
, 1,“ Of course not!”

"‘ I know it,” dryly added Redlaw; “ it would-

.n’t be healthy. But I want you to be sick when
the crowd starts to-night, and thenaiter about
A two hours—say about midnight—you must get

,up and set the house yonder on fire.”

“What!” -

“ Set the house of Clay Poynter on fire—isn’t
that plain encughi Never you mind what for-—

\

 

 

that’s my own affair. It’s enou b that I‘ve good
reasons, and when I come bac , I‘ll tell you.
Will you do it?"

“ It’s a risky job«—” hesitated Sprowl.

“ N o it isn’t, either. But, yes or no, because
if you won't, there’s others—J”

‘ Enough! I'll do it. But cash down, you
know ” leered Sprowl.

“ ell, there’s half of it. The rest I’ll hand
you in the morning.” .

“ But supposing you should get rubbed out to-
night?” suggeste S row]. ’

“ Curse your croa 'ing!” hotly exclaimed RUI-
law, thrusting out another bill. “There; will
that do?”

“Yes; but say, isn’t it a good joke upon old
Meagreson that he has been paying us all to
prove this Po nter a counterfeiter and mur-
derer, while al the time he really belonged to
the orig?” chuckled Sprowl.

“ et ye! But come now, old fellow,” added
Redlaw, insinuatingly, "who is the old'coon,
an lh’ow? I know you can tell a fellow, if you
W1 .

“ Maybe I will, when you tell me what for
gen want the house fired,” significantly answered

prow . A

“ Well, give me an idee, anyhow,” urged Polk.
“ I’ll tell you tomorrow, sure.”

“ Honest?"

“ I said so, didn’t I?” sharily.

“ Well, don’t get your bac u about it and I
will give you a hint, anyhow. on see, I knew
him in Kentucky, and again in Illinois, where
heuhel hedt Fun the business, after Sturdevant—”

a

“ Fact. I done a little in that line myself, on
the sly, and we were thrown together consid’ra—
ble, as be furnished the ‘ queer.’ But I got the
pull on him in a little scrape in which a certain
named Duaber was concerned.

“There was a love-affair mixed up with it,
I believe, and while Meagreson got the sack,
Duaber got the girl. So a lot of charges’were
trumped up, much as we’ve served this Poyn-
ter, you know, only it ended in the p )or devil’s
bein lynched in earnest. ‘

“ e was taken from jail and hung by a gang
spurred on by the old man, although he was
not resent at the deed. I gained a cool thou-
san in square money for it, and all went ob‘;
smoothly. But I thought he was dead until he
came here,- found me out, gave me some mono ,
and got me to play the same trick over again. ’

“ I wonder what his reasons were anyhow,”
mused Polk. “ I’d give a five-spot to know,” he
added, covently glancing at Sprowl.

“ You will!”

“ If it‘s honest, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I know what ou’re up to,” nodded the
other, “ but if you’l promise, me not to breathe
a vlvord gr hint of who told you, to anybody, I’ll
tel you ’

“You know—or should know by this time,
that I never split on a friend.”

“ That’s so, Polk and if you’ll shell out, I’ll
tell you in a cat’s w isper.”

“Here you are: but no shenanigan, now,”

replied Polk, handing the bill to his comrade.
“ Honor bright! Well, then, this Clay Poyn-

ter, as he calls himself, is in reality none other

 

J‘-

r)"

nb“

 

or

The Half-Breed Rival. ‘ 19 y l

_._L--—-

than Henry Duaber the son of James Duaber,
who was hung on a false charge by the Vigilance
Committee!”

“Whewl” echoed Polk Redlaw, with a long-
drawn breath of astonishment. “ I begin to see
into it now. And the old man hates the son for
the father’s sake!”

“ Yes. that’s just it. And as you’ve acted on
the square, so far, I don’t mind telling that he
is the same one who has hunted this young fel-
low from pillar to post, ever since he was a lit-
tle shaver,” said Sprowl, confidentially.

“ I’d rather have his friendship than his
hatred, then,” laughed Polk. “ When’s he com—
ing back, do you know?”

“ Not yet awhile. lt’d spoil the whole thing,
you see, if ‘John Dement’ should come to life
again before Poynter was nailed.”

“ But it seems to me that you‘ll be in a bad
box, my friend, it it is found out that you swore
to a lie.”

.“ Oh, that’s easy patched up. Besides. the
men will be so cut up and ashamed at being
greened so, that they’ 1 be glad enough to let
the matter drop, and as for the law, I’d die of

old age before that could or would do anything

.here.” sneered Sprawl.

“ Well, that’s your lookout, not mine. But
‘we’d r be moving. Catch my horse for me,
won’t ynui—this cursed ankle is sore yet.”

In a few moments the mongrel was mounted,
and paused to add:

“ Now mind you play your part. And not
before eleven, anyhow, as if the glow should be
seen too soon, the men will turn back, thinking
it some of theirs."

“ All right. But you send around for me;»1t'll to-da

look better. I’ll 0 home now and shak-
ing," and with a oud laugh the two precious
scoundrels separated.

Scaroely had they disappeared when Clay
Poyuter emerged from his ambush, and stood
for a moment trembling with anger.

Truly, he had good cause for being wrathy,
and for feeling thoughtful too in the revela—
tions so com lacently made by Wesley Sprowl.

But he di not pause long; then throwing his
rifle across his shoulder, he struck through the
woods at a ra id pace. heading his course to-
ward the ten ezvous of “White Crees,” the
leader of the band who had rescued him from
the “Twin Sycamores.” '

CHAPTER IX.
mm mcmnunv.

IT was some time after dark before Clay
Poynter neared the rendezvous of the border
outlaws, despite the speed at which he traveled.
But he was in time. and after satisfying the
sentinel of his identity, he hastened at once to
the presence of “White Crees,” as his aged
friend was universally termed by his men and
“Elma 1: full 1

was ying a hu n the ground,

one elbow ropplng hishea as hgo thought.
fully into e flre, crackling merr y before him.
There was a kind of half-frown upon his face
and a flegegleam in his full black eyes, that told
was unusually excited about some-

 

}. ,- 

  
   
  
  
   
  
  
    
   
   
  
  
     
  
 
   
 
   
    
    
   
  
  
 
 
   
    
    

“Well, sir, what is it!” quickly asked Crees,
as he raised his hendut the young man’s ap-
proach.

“ Bad news, I fear.

“ The deuce!"

“Yes; and you will he attacked to-night by
the Vigilance Committee, in full force,” coolly
rejoined Poynter.

‘Bad enough, I must say. But are you
certain?” ‘ ‘v

“If hearing the entire plan, detailod'by-the
man that found you out is enough, I am.”

“ So—so!” muttered the outlaw chief.

“ Well, your decision," impatiently said Clay,
“ what is it?” ’

“We must run for it. Not but that we are
strong enough to stand our ground. if such a
course would be prudent, but we must tread
ligh‘tly. The country is hot enough now, and a -
collision, where blood would be shed, must he I
avoided.” ~

“Very well, then; I want one man for du
concerning myself, as a sort of Witness. Can
have him?” , ‘- V

“A dozen, if you say so,” was the cordial re- . ~
ply. “ Who is be?”

This retreat is known—”

"‘ Jack fl’e.” ’
“ Hyar be, square, an’ mighty glad of I kin
help ye any.” '

“ Then saddle our horses as quick as possible,
please. If I had time,” again turning to the
outlaw leader, “ I would explain, as I have
much to tell; but some other time must do. '
Things are working around a little, and I may ‘
come out right side up after all.” r
“Good! and I, too, have done a. good job
“ So? Where’ll we find you?” ,

“Tell Jack tolead you to the north sideo 0
‘Bald Hill,’ where the branch cuts through the ‘
‘ Wildcat Range.’ He knows it well.” ~

“ Well, I must be off, and the sooner you a ‘ v ,
the better. It’s nearly ten o’clock now, an ' ‘
they’ll be along by one at the latest.” - .

"So they may,” laughed the outlaw, “but
thanks to your warning, they’ll find little to ,
satisfy their appetite. Remember, ‘ Bald Hill.’ '~

“ All right!” and then the young man vaulted.
into the saddle as Fyfl’e led up the horses, and
the two men (lashed rapidly along the road. : ' -.

“Now J aek old fellow,” cried Poynter, “ we
must, ride as it the ‘ gentleman in black’ was at ‘
our horses’ tails, or we‘ll be too late.” *-

“ Whar to?”

“ My house.
go, so as to avoid meeting on
take the main road?” , , »

“ Bet ye! It’s rough ridin’. though but ltein’s- ‘
it"s?ghorter, ’twon’t take no longer; What’s the, .

z .

Thereu u Poynter succinctly stated what he'
had hea while eavesdropping the two precious: l. , ,
scoundrels, adding: ' ' r "

“It isn’t that I care so much for the house,
but we must take that Sprowl a prisoner. He-
knows enou h to clear me, and if he can prove
what he sai , to bring this Dement or Mean-es
son to justice; and that’s just my band now.” '

“ We’ll do it. ' Ef not in the act, we’ll nabhim
at his own shanty. Meagreson, ye said!” . I

“Yes; do you know him?” — l

' x x /

Do you know a th that we can;
pan-lends; who’ll

\

  

“Oh, no, I guess not! Lord, won't the 01’
man be glad!"

“ Crees, do you mean?”

“Look out! H ar’s the 'cut-ofl. Feller me
clnss an’ look out or your head."

The now diverged from the road into a path
just a lowing one horse to pass at a time,and the
riders were forced to stoop low along their
horses’ necks to keep from being struck by the
low-hanging limbs.

Presently the ground grew more open, al-
though they still continued in single file, and
as they rose the crest of a hill, Fyffe exclaimed,
in a lad tone:

" t’s all hunky so fur anyhow. square. Ef it
gays’so fur ten minutes longer, we’ll save ’em

t .

“ Are we so near, then?”

“ Leetle better’n a mile.
branch.”

“ Good! I know where we are now. Spur
along; we‘ve no time to lose."

In less than the time named the horsemen
drew rein at the western fence of the yard, and
speedin hitching the animals, they stealthin ad-
vanced until the rear of the house was gained.
After pausing for a moment to listen, and bean
ing nothing suspicious, they made the circuit of
the building; thus satigijing themselves that the
would-be incendiary h not yet arrived.

“ We’re in good time, Jack," whis ered Poyn-
ter, joyfully, ‘ and ’11 get him yet. 0 you hide
herein front, and I’ll do the same behind. If
you need help, whistle and I'll come.”

“ Help, ag’in’ that little or’nary cuss? Bah!
I’d take him ’ith one finger. Shall I nah ’im
as soon as I see him?"

“ No; I guess we'd betterlet him start a blaze
first. Then he can‘t deny but what that was his
intention. Yes, that’s the best way."

“All right, then. Better lumber down,
though. fer of be shed cotch a glimpse 0’ either
on us, it’s all played." cautioned Fyfl'e.

This advice was too good not to be followed.
and in a moment more, all was still and silent
about the premises. Poynter’s mind was reatly
excited, as well it might be, at the facts 8 had
learned on that day; and as the gloomy prospect
that had spread over his future began to lighten
a thousand air-castles were built, over all of
which the pleasing form of Nora McGuire, his
little rosy Irish lass, reigned as (f'lueen.

But he was suddenly aroused rom his reverie
by the light tramp of a man’s feet. and glancing
up, he saw a dim, shadowy fl re cautiously ap-

roaching the house, at a litt e to his left. From

is osition close beside the slightly elevated
porc that stood in the rear of the kitchen, the
door of which led out upon it, Poynter was r-
fectly hidden, while yet he could quite plainly
note the intruder’s every movement.

This person lightly stepped upon the porch
and cmtiousl y tried the door, but it was fasten-
ed. Then he went to one of the rear windows,
and after a slight effort, raised it: then propping
it up with a stick, drew himself through the
aperture.

Listening intently. Poynter heard him grop-
ing around the room. and then, after a few mo-
ments’ silence, he saw a faint, flickering light
spring up. Gliding to the window, he peered

See, thar's the

 

The Half-Breed Blvd.

 

 

_u

through, and saw Wesley Sprowl ignitin a
short piece of fallow—dip by the aid of a mate .

Poynter knew now that he had his game se-
cure, and crept around the building, where he
was met by Jack Fyfl’e, who had been alarmed
by the slight noise, and was just coming around
to investigate it.

“ Is it him?”

“Yes,” whispered Poynter, “but we must let
him start the fire first, before we intel rupt him.
Then as I jump through the window, do you
burst in the back door and put out the blaze.
I’ll ’tend to him."

“ Jest as you say, square; on’y I’d like to gi’n
the varmint a squoze, like, Jest fer beans,”
grunted Fyfi‘e, as he followed I’oynter around
the buildin .

They coufil still see the light, and hear an in-
creased rattling in the room, and cautiously
peering in at one corner of the window, the two
men saw the incendiary splitting fine kindlings
with the knife he had drawn from his belt.
Poynter could scarcel restrain his passion. at
noting how coolly and l eliberately the dastardly
scoundrel set about his work.

When a little pile of the shavings were made
Sprowl piled over them some splinters of wood
that lay beside the kitchen stove. and then ap-
plied the lightcd candle to the heap. It in-
stantly ignited. the tiny blaze creeping along,
thrusting out its forked tongue like a serpent;
at which the incendiary gave a chuckle of de-
liggt, and rising, dropped a chair over the fire.

6 next grasped the table, with the same in~
tention, but Poynter had seen enough, and draw—
ing himself up b the arms. he drnppfad lightly
through the wim ow—thc noise made y Sprowl
in dragging the table effectually drowning his
footsteps. One stride, and the large, muscular
right hand of Clay Poynter tightly clasped the
villain bV the neck, compressing it as if in a vise.

Jazk Fyfl’e was in nowise behindhand, but
speedily followed his leader through the open
window, thinking that better than to demolish
the door, especially as there was no particularly
urgent call for haste; and with a few shoves of
his huge foot, kicked the brands into the capa-
cious fireplace, it having done no damage, save
slightly scorching the chairs and floor.

“ It may be fun to you, square, da’say ’tis,
but ef you ’xpects to git any ’fessions onten thet
critter you’d do well to let up a little,” admon-
ished jack, as be bent forward to peer into the
face of the prisoner.

And there was ample foundation for his warn-
ing, for in his rage at the cowardly miscreant’s
action, Poynter threw the whole power of his
arm into the grasp, and Sprowl was already
senseless.

“ You‘re right, Jack.” said Poynter as he re-
laxed his grip and suffered Sprowl to drop upon
the floor, then bending over him, he poured a
little brandy down his throat.

In a. few moments Sprowl had recovered suffi-
ciently to sit up, thoroughly bewildered at the
sudden reverse he had experienced. But his
captors did not give him time to ponder over it,
or ask questions, as it was growing late, and for
phvioustlreasons megs rllid 1not care to remain
onger an was a outey necessary in e
neighborhOOd.

    
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
   
 
    
   
     
    
   
  
  
   
   
     
    
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
 
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  

    

Np;

‘7'.

The Half-Breed Rival.

Iv WWW 

  
 

_\. v, , "J l . .P"

 

So. after securely binding the incendiary’s
hands behind his back, the two men, highly
elated at their complete success, led the way to
where the horses were hitched.

“You're the lightest, Jack," said Poynter-
“ better take him up behind on on the horse.";

“Burn the thief l growl Fyfl'e, “let ’im
tramp it; ’t’ll do him ood.”

“So he might; but t ere’s no telling whom we
may meet, and I won’t lose him now. But if
you object, he can ride with me.”

“I didn’t think 0’ that, square. Jest you
hyste him up arter I mount.”

This was speedily done, and Sprowl secured
to the body of his capmr, thus effectually pre-
venting all hopes of an escape. Then leaving
the premises they entered the road, proceeding
at a moderate pace, as they were not desirous
of arousing any or the neighbors who might
chance to be at home.

For a couple of hours they rode on without
haltin ,when they both drew rein simultane-
ously, nding forward in the saddles, and listen-
ing eagerly. It was a sharp, clear report, fol-
lowed by what appeared an irregular volley of
small-arms, resounding all about them as it an
entire army was engaged in battle.

But the two men were far too well versed in
the peculiarities of that portion of the country
not to know that it was but the multiplied rever-
berations of the one first shot.

“ Listen I” exclaimed Poynter, guarded! ,
“don’t you hear the click of shoes upon t e
stones?”

“Y’ur right, by the ’tarnali It’s the Vigil-
antys, I reckon. Better kiver.”

“ To the left.” muttered Po nter, leading the
way. “ Hold the reins while keen the horses
from nei hing. And mark you, Sprowl, those
are your riends, but if you utter so much as a
whisper, by the God above me, I will shoot on
like a dog! You know I keep my word. ey
may hunt us, but it would be too ate to do you
any good 1” hissed the young man as he passed
by the prisoner. '

They were scarcely a dozen feet from the
road, upOn a little lower ground. from whence
they could have a clear view of anybody passin
by. There was no moon, and the dense rowt
of underbrush, close behind them, add to the
dark color of their horses, rendered discovery
very improbable if not impossible.

Poynter stood by the-animals’ heads, one hand
upon the muzzle of each. to check any incline,-
tion they might feel for whickerian‘g during the
passage of the horsemen. They h not long to
wait.

Scarcer had these precautions been taken,

when the foremost man came in Sight, and then
the main body. Their oaths and curses, if noth-
ing else would have identified them as the band
of Vigilantes. returning from an unsuccessful
search for the outlaws,’ thanks to Poynter’s
timely warning.
- After waiting a few minutes, until satisfied
that the entire band W, the ambushed
men a in entered the . proceeding for some
little istance in silence. Then Clayspoke:

“ Those fellows weren’t in the best of humor,
eh, Jack?”

‘Not Overly much, We}, it shows ’m; the

\

 

boys fgot cl’ar, anyhow. But see, hyar’s the
cut—o .” ,

“ leading to Bald Hill?"

“ Yes,” and Fyfle led the way alonga narrow, -
irregular path. __

  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  

CHAPTER X.
srnown TOES TEE MARK.

IN less than half an hour the tall, rocky crest
of “ Bald Hill ” reared its gray head before the
men, and Poynter gave vent to a sigh of relief
as he saw that the tiresome ride was new 1y at
an end.

The outlaws 'were upon the alert as the quick,
sharp challenge testified when the outer lines
were reached. Dismounting with a half-groan,
Poynter relieved Fyfl’e of his “back-l ,” and
after securely binding the man, dropied him
upon the ground. asking the sentry to cop an
eye upon him. Then Poynter threw himseli| be-
neath a. tree, and almost ere his limbs were
still, a fast-increasing rumbling, as of ve dis-
tant thunder, told how sound was his slum er.

The sun was an hour above the horizon when
Poynter a ain opened his eyes, althou h he de- ‘
clared he adn’t five winks or sleep. ut after
a cool bath at the creek, close at hand, he felt
greatly refreshed, and joined White Crees, who
was sitting near one of the fires, smoking a pipe. '

“ “p for all day, Poynter?”

“ ell, I hardly know, to tell the truth,”
laughed Clay. “I can tell you better after I
have some grub.”

“ There’s part of a cold turke , or here‘s ven-
ison' take your choice.”

“ ot meat for me, own if I do have to turn
cook to get it.” said Poynter, cuttingI several "
generous slices from the prime saddle t at hung

nded from a, tree near at hand. -“ But,

hel o, I forgot! What has been done with my 

prisoner that I brought in last night, or, rather, -
his morning?”

“ I put him in a safe place,” returned the out-
law. “ The poor devil was nearly dead this
morning. You ut him with his head down-
hill, and I rea y believe that another hour
would have finished him." \

“’Twouldn‘t be a very great pity,” muttered. “
Poynter, his mouth full of meat, “ after I have "
got out of him what 1 want to know. And that
makes me think—where’s Jack i” l

“ Off on a hunt, I believe; a gang of turkeys

down the creek this morning, and he’s
after them. But why?” .

“ Nothin : only from a hint that he dropped
last ni ht a ut one Men n—”

“ ti Meag‘reson, did you say?" excitedly
exclaimed the outlaw, bending forward, Iclutohu ‘
ing Poynter with his long, bony fin ers b the, A
arm. until the young man winced V th pa n.

“ Thunder! es, but I ain’t made of wood, nor '
steel either. 0 you want to take 011' my armif’.

“Pardon, Po ter; but that name made me
for at myself. ere did on hear of him f"

“ h‘rom Sprawl; he told elk Re.th a long\
yarn yesterday that I overheard, and enough in
it to show me that my secret too was this
along-emu, or John Dement, as he called himself y. 

ere. ‘ . ‘ ‘

“'l‘ellineall,justushesuldit nave-goes

 

 

reasons for wanting to hear it,” added the out—
law, impressively.

Poynter gave a hasty outline and to his great
impose Croes bowed his head to the earth, his
strong form working and writhing as if in mortal
agony. But when he would have step d, a
hoarsely-whispered “ Go on” from the 01 man
was his only answer. I

“ And new you know as much as I do," added
Clay, arising. “ But come, show me where you
put Sprowl, and I will see if he can tell me any-
thing more."

' Crees arose without a word, and passed a
short distance up the hillside, pressing through
some bushes unti he stood at the foot of a good-
sized tree, in a tiny glade. To the trunk of this,
and in an upright position, was bound the form
of the wretc ed S )rowl.
, Povnter startei back in half-alarm at the
fearful change a few hours had made in the
iman’s apfearance. Dreadfully haggard and
sickly—loo ing, with his eyes protruding, his
; tongue lolling from his parched jaws, the drops

" _. of cold sweat rolling over his face, Sprowl looked
: ,. nag! about to give up the ghost in earnest.

My God! he’s dying,” cried Poynter, as he
sprung forward and, severed the cords that
bound the poor devil, laying him down upon the
ground.

“Give me your flask; mine‘s empty,” as he
turned to Crees, who silengy handed it to him,
while his eyes were fix intently upon the

'  wretch’s face.

A few swallows were poured down Sprowl’s
throat, and thus bathing his face and neck with
j ‘the pungent liquor, Poynter soon uttered a glad
cry. In truth, the patient appeared tobe recov-
ering, and in a. few minutes the light of reason
‘ once more shone in his eyes.

-' 4 ,“I know that man ” slowly e'aculated Crees,

‘not once removing his gaze, that a peared to

attract the other‘s attention much t 6 same as
the fascination exercised by the rattlesnake.

“My God! who are you?” almost yelled the

,. wretch, as he suddenly sat up, staring at Crees,

4’ f‘ he should know better than you, Wesley
‘Sprowl?”,/sternly said the outlaw.
“ I know you now. You are—” V
“Hold!” commanded Crees, “that name is
dead now. If xyou as much as whisper it before
Itell on, b a that’s holy I’ll treat you as I
woul asn e! Do you understand?”
"“Yes. sir,” faltered Sprowl, once more sink-

, infiHere,” interrupted Poynter, checking this
, byE-Iplay, that not a little excited his curiosity.
“ ere, Sprowl, take another sup of brandy. I
want you to answer me some questions, and
you’ll need your strength before we’re through.”
a “Yes—yes—the brandy!” eaggrly muttered
the prisoner, cluti-hin at the ttle, and not
,' drawing breath until 1 was emptied. “There!
' new I can talk; only I am hungry,” he added,

wiswxi'r ill c thi t I
‘ e w ge yousome 'n, or a
.' ing to treat you a deuced sight begtter thallimygo:
dewrve, after your lies about me.”

“They were lies, all of them; but I will con~
toss—yes, I will confess!”

i‘ggst stick to that, old fellow, and my word

 

The HalfuBreed Rival.

for it, you’ll never have cause to re nt doing
so,” cheerin replied Poynter. “ ow, Mr.
Crees, if you’ll 'ust stay here to keep our friend
company, like, ’11 go get something for him to
eat

“ Gladly‘ for I, too, have somethin to ask

Mr. Sprow ,” returned the outlaw. ‘ And, if
on will, please give a whistle when you come
ack; won't you?”

“Certainly, if you wish it.”

“ I do. But don’t be offended," he added ap-
pealingly.
And anything else that ma appear strange,
that on wish to know. Wil that do?”

“ inely,” cordiall replied Poynter, press—
ing his strange frien ’5 hand, and then dashing
down the hillside to the oncam ment fires.

He' cut some venison stea s, and soon had
them broiling merrily, after VI hich be pre-
pared hot water for coffee, and stirred up a
“ hoe-cake ” standing it upon a strip of elm-hark
to bake be ore the glowing embers.

When his cookery was completed, Poynter gave
the desired signal, and when he reached the tree
found that the outlaw was sitting in the same
spot, while Sprawl had bowed his head between
his hands, evidently deeply moved I) some
emotion, either of fear or remorse. ut the

oung man uellcd the curiosity he felt, for he
Knew that ress’s word might be trusted, and
that ere long all would be explained.

“Well, old fellow, here you are” cheerily
cried Poynfer, as he placed the food and drip
before Sprowl, with not a trace of rancor in his
tones. “ And do you see how fast 'ou can de-
molish them, while I do a little ta king. But
mind you, don’t answer before you’ve weighed
well what you say, as you may have to swear to
it. Do you hear ” '

“ Yes, sir, I do hear, and so help me God, I’ll
tell the honest truth if it hangs me!” Solomnly
exclaimed the prisoner. “ You treat me and
talk to me like a gentleman, while I hava treated
you and ours worse than a dog. I shall say
nothin ut the truth, and if it must be, will
swear it before any court.”

“ Now I begin to know you again,” cried Clay,

ladiy; “and I tell you that, guilty as you have

n, ,pnless ypu have helped commit one

“Your father, you mean?”

Sprowl. ”

“As God hears me, I new-r raised a fin r
against his life. I falsely swore against
honor, I do not deny, but of anything further, I
am innocent.”

“ Well, 0 on and eat. I’ll tell you my terms,
although frankly tell on. that were it not for
your wife and helpless amily, I would demand
not request. Now, however, we will let that

‘8. I.
pa“ First, I wish you to tell me. the lot against

‘my father: who concocted it, and w 0 were the

prominent actors in it. Also their reasons torso
doing, so far as you are aware of them.

“ Then what you know of myself; who it was
that has hunted me from ‘ pillar to post,’ to use
your own language. Also what you know about
one Meagreson a ias John Dement, his charac-

We 91719195; “a? in short, everything.

“I will explain it all myou soon.‘

interrupted _

 

 

 

 “.4 i

I \ ' : ’ .
The Half-Breed Rival. I 231

 

“I warn on however, that I am not to be
deceived; t at know far more than you have
any idea of, so that any attempt of that kind
will only injure yourself. Do you fully compre-
hend me?” queried Poynter.

Sprowl answered by a double nod; his mouth
being crammed so full of the juicy deer-steak
that speech was impossible.

“Very well. Now. I will tell you further. If
you make a clean breast of it, however guilty
you may have been, with that one exception, I
will let you 0 free, and in addition give you
such a start t at, if you endeavor to do so, you
can live an honest, comfortable life.

" I will pay for your farm, I will build you a
house and stock them both, so that you can have
no further excuse for going to the bad. But
mark me—this is not on your account; it is for
your patient, long-suffering wife, and the deeds
will be given in her name. Now, what do you
say to the bargain?”

“ Well, sir, what can I say,” mutteredS row],
brokenly, “ but that while I have acted ike a
dog, you treat me like a white man? Perhaps
’twould be a better job if you put me beyond the
way of doing any more harm; I do think so. I
have always been a cursed, cowardly fool, and
it at times I would try—and God knows that I
have tried for Mary’s sake and the children’s-—
to break 011‘, here would come a temptation, and
down I’d go, worse than ever,” gloomin replied
the risoner.

“ ell,” heartily responded Poynter, “ better
times are coming now. and if you will only help
yourself, others will lend a hand. Cheer up,
old fellow, and hold your head up like an honest
man; there‘s a heap of good left in you yet, or
you’d never talk as you do now.” .

“If I ever do get on my feet a ain, it isto
you and him that I must give t anks after
God,“ solemnly uttered Sprowl. “But where
shall I begin?”

“ Tell me first about my father: why and
howuit was that you acted against him as you

And then Wesley Sprowl repeated the tale he
had briefly outlined to Polk Redlaw, giving
e‘very detail in full; but enough has been said to
enlighten the reader. It was a terrible tale of
revenge and injustice in which an innocent man
was made the victim of a villain’s plottings
aided by such unscrupulous coadjutors as Sprawl
and Jonathan Green. ‘

As the sad incidents of his rent’s sorrow
and min were detailed. Clay oynter (as we
must still call him) bowed his head and we t
bitter tears of grief and angmsb. Had a
glanced toward his companion, he would have
seen that “ White Crees,” the outlaw leader, had
bowed his stalwart form, and it shook as it With
mortal agony. ‘

“ About your being driven from Arkansas,”
said Sprowl. “I know nothin save that this
same man followed you in his gamed for your
father; that he had sworn on too, should die .a
felon’s death. But on ed rom him, and it
was veers before he ound on here.

“He saw me also, and nowin that I was

r. tempted me to aid him, as I had done once
fore. For weeks before he made his appear-

once Openly. he was  your reputa-

 

 

tion by covert hints and innuendoes, that only
too easily found holding—ground in the troubled
state of the country; and this was increased by
your reticence regarding your afl'airs and pre-
vious life.

“I helped him in this, as did Green, Wigan,
Redlaw Dalton and Gibson. Then you were
arreste . Sum Gibson and Frank Dalton were
bribed to conceal the dies and counterfeit coin
in your house, then to swear to the findin it.

“ J ouathan Green was bought over, as was \
to swear as he did. For four one charge should 
fail, be arranged that of the murder of John
Dement, by which name he had made the ac-
quaintance of Neil McGuire, as they both were
fellow Masons.

“He made himself popular in the neighbor~
hood b his friendly manner and the freedom
with w ieh he spent his money.

“He gave me the diamond clusteropin that
was so well known, and told me what to swear.
I was poor; he threatened to denounce me as
one of the gang unless I fin'formed his biddin ,
and I consented. It was ard, though, althoug
you may not believe me. ‘

“You had acted the generous friend to me ’
and mine; had furnished food, clothing and ’
medicine, when I was sick and unable to work;
all this you did, and yet I would have sworn
away your life!” and for a few moments he re-
mained silent. , .

“ Had it not been for the firmne s of Neil Mc-
Guire, our lans would have been fully carried,
out, and tiat next morning‘s sun would have *-
shone upon your cor so, as we fully expected.
But then you escap ; how, I never earned. ’

“Meagreson was in Leavenworth awaiting,"
the message that I had promised to send or".
bring him of your death, but instead it was that f
you were once more a free man. Btillhe thought
and hoped that you would be taken, and had set '
the police of the city on the alert for you in case .
you should go there; but it was useless.

“ He was fully disguised, as he had been while
here, for as he is now over fifty years of a e, '
his hair is naturally almost snow-white. 
he wore his years well, and he was not suspected
for other than he seemed. '

“You know how I attempted to fire our
house—it was that mongrel cur, Polk aw,
that tempted me; and that I was ca tured in
the endeavor, I now sincerely thank ed! ' It is
one crime the less upon my soul; and He knows , v
that there are enough there already,” concluded
8 row] in a broken tone, as he bowed his head,
w ile the hot, scalding tears trickled freely -
adown his wrinkled cheeks. I

There was no afleetation about this, as his
hearers were fully convinced. He was really
moved at the kind and honorable manner in V
which he had been treated by those whom he,
had wron ed so deeply and terribly. fl .

“And t is Meagreson—do you now nothing
of his future plans?” at length asked Poynter,
looking up. ‘

“Un ess he should hear from me, he was 3
to meet me at the ‘Twin Points,’ Friday night?)

“ Then you think he will come?” ‘

“ I have no doubt of it,” was the assured re-

ly. “He will be too unmous to learn the:
avast news not tocema" " " “ '

  
  
      
   
   
  

  

.\

 

' devflthatmy?

 

The Half-Breed Rival.

 

, “ Good! he will probably meet visitors he
does not expect ” cried Crees.

“ That he will! Unless he fails, we will have
him at our own terms, and then-—
" And then!” echoed the outlaw.

 

CHAPTER X1.
rwm sOUNDs ms norm.

“ HA3!!!" 4

It was Poynter who made the exclamation,
abruptly checkin the outlaw’s words. The
three men slight y bowed their heads, as if

.' listeni intently, while their eyes sought each
other‘s aces. he sound came a ain.

It was the loud exclamation o a man—such
as one would make in driving a refractory yoke
of oxen. ‘ And yet it could scarcely be that, for
the uud surroundin , whence the alarm pro-
ceediid? was rough and rokeu, difficult even for
a man to traverse upon foot.

“ What is it?” whispered Crees.

“’S-sh! Listen.”

’ “Wrot y’ur ongainly copperossyty, kain‘t
you walk ‘chalk? , thar—gee, you ’tarnvl
critter! Dod burn e! I don‘t rouse you up with
a sapliu’. G’long, now, you creepin’ snake!”

A tirade of such adjurations, followed by

'what sounded like the crack of a whi , and then
astrange sort of muffled howl. Sue were the

J noises that aroused the curiosity of the trio, in
the little glade.

'“ Scratch dirt, now, you'd better. ’Tain’t
much furder, or durued at I b‘lieve we’d git

' thar to-day. Git up an’ git. now, less I’ll go ahead
an’ snip you ’long arter me. How’d thet suit,
' e ole stick-in-the—mudi Shoot at an honest
r ag’in, w'u’d ye? Guess ye won’t, no more.
Hoop-la!” and then came several more cracks,
accompanied by groans and half-choked howls.

“, It’s Jack,” whispered Crees. “Wonder

V what he’s up to?”
V “ Look I”

“As Poynter uttered this exclamation, the
bushes . , and a miserable-looking object
broke out'into full view. It was a man, but so
tattered and be 'med that little else could be
guessed. Whet r white, black or red, a,
urger or an acquaintance, could only be sur-

His arms wereti htl drawn back and secured
at the elbows, w ea s ack withe ran from ankle
toankle. His dragzled and matted hair over-
hung his face, but was not long enough to entirely
conceal the existence of a strange freak upon
his captor’s part. He was bitted

A good-sized stick was secured between his
jaws, about two feetrin length. To either end
of this a supple vine of grape was attached,
sothat a jerk, right or left, y the driver, would
effectually turn the prisoner. if not quite throw
him down.

Holding fast to the opposite ends was the
grinning Jack Fyfle, who bore a long, supple
ickor rod, with which he occasionall
“touc ed 11 ” the captive. Upon his bac

were two ri es. «

’ “ Good Lord, Jack I” cried Poynter, in amaze—

ment, at thistde unique “turnout,” what

under the sun do on mean treating the poor
015 he. anyhow? '

“ Hollow, square, you thar?" returned the
rough borderer, appearing not a whit abashed,
givmg his captive the twitch necessary to turn
his head up the hlll, and then adroitly a plying
the whip, that made him spring nimgly for-
ward. “How air you, anyhow, this mornin’?
Kinder fetched along a fri’nd to call on you, sor-
ter permiscuous, like. Git up, thar, you critter:
step lively, now, an’ show the gen’lemen y’ur
paces. y—ahl”

loose I”

“Not of I knows it ” retorted Fyflle, coolly:
“I had too much trou 1e a-gearin’ him up, fer
thet. An’ mercy—the skunk don’t know what
thet means. He didn’t hev no mercy onto you
nor the ole man, nor likewise on me, when he
tried to shoot me, a little back you.”

“Who is it?” queried Crees.

“ Why, don’t you know? It’s Jim Meagreson,
_John Dement, or Snakey, as I call him,” de-
clared Fyffe, exultantly.

Poynter stared in amazement, but not so the
outlaw leader. With a half—stifled howl of rage
and vindictive joy, he drew his knife and lee
forward. Jack Fyfi‘e thought he meant mur er,
and caught him by the arm.

“Dang it, boss, he’s had enough; but don’t
butcher him in thet we 1”

“Stand off I” yelled recs, throwing the other
violently from him. “ Stand off, I say. 1 am

dead on fool!”

“ ri ht. then,” returned Fyflie rubhi his
shoulder olefully. “ I know thet, hut was in-
der afeard thet you’d fergit when y’ur mad was

an’ glad to git shot on him, I am.”

“’Tis him, Poynter; look!” and Crees held
back the captive’s head so as to more fully er
pose the wretch’s features.

“It is, indeed,” gladly exclaimed Clay, as he
beheld the man whom he had been {alser ao-
cused of murdering. “And an hour since I
would have given ten years of my life if this
could have been assured me.”

You’re welcome to my shar’."

“ But how’d you chance upon him, Jack?”

“ That’s a long yarn—too lon fer a teller
% fsfpin what hain‘t had no brea ast,” added

y e. I
“ True; I forgot. Go get something and then
come up. We may need on,” and then, as the
borderer hastened down t e hill, the young man
turned to the captive. ’

He was in a truly pitiable condition; but those
who beheld him had been far too deeply in ‘ured
by him to indulge in any such feeling. ‘rue
they gave him brandy and bathed his head, but
it was only to restore him so that they could
gain his confession. >

He soon revived and stared around at the two
men, Sprawl having taken a position out of
sightbehind the tree, where hehad not yet been
seen by Meagreson. The men eyed him in si-
lance. but he only vouchsafed them a look of
angry defiance.

“ Well, James Meagreson,” at length said the
outlaw loader, “ we meet once again !”

 

“My name is not Meagreson, and, I don’t

up. Thar he is; I turn h1m over to you tellers

“ Wal, square, thar he is, ’thout any 0' thet.

“ For mercy’s sake, Jack, let the poor devil

not mad. He is of more use to me living than '

 

 

i
v,
i
l

 

The Half-Breed Rival.

 

know you—never set eyes on you before,” sullen-
ly responded the captive.

“ Do you know me, then?” put in Poynipr.

“ Know you? Yes; for a vile horse—thief and
counterfeiter!"

“Do on mean to say—” began Crecs, when
he was interrupted by the other.

“ I mean to say that I am plain John Dcment,
an honest trader, and that you shall dearly rue
this outra e.

“ Bah! t at’s played out. You ma
own up now, for your aCCom lice and7 tool has
betrayed 1you, and exposed a your plots and
crimes. f you are obstinate, we will Just hand
you over to the Vigilance Committee, whose aid
you are so fond of invoking, and let them deal
with on.”

“ Am 1 a fool?” sneercd Meagreson. “ Don’t
I know that you dare no more show your faceto
one of them than to kiss a rattlesnake? Tho
onl answer you’d get would be a hempen cord
an swinging boughl”

“ Now that’s nonsense, old man,” put in
Sprowl. “ You’re the fool. They’ve got you in
a corner, and you may as well come down.
Green and the rest of the boys have owned up
and unless you make terms as we did, it’ll be all
night with on.”

‘Who’s t at?” faltered the prisoner, a gray
shade settling upon his florid features.

“Sprowl,” replied that worthy. “ I've told
all I know and am going to swear to it, if
you are obstinate: and as you very well
know it’s enough to hang you a dozen times
over.

“ The others—”

“ I tell you they’ve ' cached, and you’rea s ot-
ted man, if these ent emen are only a min to
press the matter,’ gliny said Sprowl.

A deep groan was his only answer, as Mongre-
son fell orward, his form trembling like a leaf.

“ Let him be, Poynter,” said Crees, “ and
when he thinks it all Over, he’ll see that it’s of no
use holding out further. Here comes Fyfl’e.”

“Hallow, what you fellows bin a-doin’ to my
hose?” cried that worthy, as he leisurely strolled
up the hill, wiping his greasy mouth upon his
shirt-sleeve, and smackin his lips.

“Never mind now, Jac ,” interrupted Poyn-
ter. “ He’s thinking.”

“Yas; needs it, I reckon. While y’ur hand’s
in, jest think a leotle how all-fired nigh you come
to killin’ a feller-critter-man. Sp’ilt my ha’i‘,
anyhow," at the same time tugging at a shagg
lock that grew beside his ear, trying to bring it
before his eyes. “ See thar.’

It did indeed look as though a bullet had_cut a
'agged passage through it as he had hinted.

hen Poynter seated himself beneath the tree,
motionin Jack to do the same, sayin : _

“ There 3 nothing else just nOW, $34“; Slt
down and tell us how you chanced upon this fol-
low and all about it.”

“bon’t care ‘1 I do, square,” quoth Jack,
gnawing of! a hu e mouthful of “ niggerhead.”
and then passing 9 plug to Sprowl. “Don’t
chaw, bzliove?”

I

H I do. Wal, I allus wai- fond o’ tellin" stories.
Mam, she used to dress in trowsers with her 011’
slipper purty nigh the h 1 time, ’cause of this

as well

 

habit o’ mine: but, Lord, thet didn’t do no good.
Only driv’ it back ag’in, like. But dad, he was
a yarncr, now I tell you] I kedn’t hold a kendlc
to him when he’d 1got a good streak on, but thet’s
nyther hyar nor t or.

“ When I ’gun Winkin’ this daylight, airly, I

ot up an’ begun sorter swoopin’ ’round for grub.
glut blamed the bit could I find, 'cept some wen—
zun, an’ I swore I’d hev none 0’ thet. Fact is,
my appertite is sort/er delacut, like, an’ won’t
b’ar lain rub, like you bigger fellers.

“ o, as went down to the crick for a drink,
I scc’d lots 0’ gre’t big turkey-tracks in the mud,
toes a-p‘intin’ downarts; an’ so I jest shoulders
shooter an’ shakes moccasin sorter lively,
’cause I’d made up m mind to hev a gobbler for
breakfust, an’ nothin shorter.

“ But I trailed them dratted birds so fur that
I’d c’ona’most gi’n up all hups o’ drappin’ one,
an’ lied ’bout made up my mind thet Wenzun
was a heap better, enyhow, when I sot blinkers
on as fine a strutter as ever gobbled to a hen.
Up goes my gun, slip 005 my fut, an’ down I
re ls inter the crick, w ile the dratted bird flops
oil? through the bushes.

“Didn t I cuss some. sorter, as I got out? Mob- .
be not: 'tany rate, off I put ag’in arter thet tur.
key, for I swore I’d hev it of it tuck allday. No
’tarnal two-legged bird sh’u’d fool me like thet,
not by no manner 0’ means, cf I knowed myself,
an’ I rayther thunk I did. So on I splurges,
lickety-s lit.

“But stopped ag’in, mighty sudden, thou h
’twa’n’t a turkey I see’d. It was a man kin or
strollin’ along, fer his health, I reckon, an’ he
pulled up, too. Thar we stud, a—gaw in’ at each
other like looneys, when he splatter out sunk-
thin’ that kinder smelled o’ brimstone, and then
took to his heels like the devil was arter him.

“ An’ of he wasn’t, I was, ’cause I never yet
see’d a fuller thet run, ’thout takin’ arter him
jest like blazes. It’s a kinder ’farmity like, I
reckon; anyhow it’s a fact. Wal, he put an‘ I

at, jest a-soratchin’ dirt an’ a-kickin’ up the

eaves the beatinest kind you ever did hyar tell
on.

“ I’m purty hefty on the run, as ye know, but
blamed of he wasn’t mighty nigh my master.
But I‘d nevor say die till the bellers clean bu’st-
ed, an’ at last he jumped for kiver, a-swingin’
his shooter mighty keerless like. I did ditto,
an" thar We war. I sorter grinned, ’cause it
’minded me of 01’ times when ha’r went wild.

“ But then I peeked out, mighty keerful like,
’cause I didn’t want another hole in my brush-
patch overlv much, when I hope I may never
see the back 0‘ my neck, of thar he wasn't a-
streakin’ it through the woods, his coat-tails. a-
streamin’ out wuss’n the ta (end to a comet.
Lord, wasn’t I gritty then? ebbe not!

“I jest set my grinders like a clamp, pulled
the slouch furder on my head an’ then set 01’
toad-smashers to work. The ground jet fa’rly
smoked about me, I run so fast, and I over-
hauled ol' Smarty like fun. He peeked ’round
an’ see’d it, then whirled ’round to’rds me, yell—
in’ out he’d shoot fer shore.

“ But my Ebenezer was up like 9. mice, an’ I
mt on, wild fer bitin‘an‘ gou in’. The drat-

imp did shoot shore enough, at it jest clip-
ped my hair a. leetle, an’ then I downed him.

 

I was mad at the feller’s impedence in burnin’
powder when I was jest in fun, all the time, an"
dra wed my knife to finish up the job. I
“I had her raised all ready, when I caught
his eye, an’ helt my han’. I nowed him in a
minute, though he’d changed a hea sence we
met last. I knowed how tickled t e 01’ man
’uld be, of hesee’d him, ’cause he kinder ’lowed
he kicked the bucket long a o.
7 “But thar he was, an’ ’tarmined to fetch
3/: him inter camp. So I started, but the bugrrer
tried to run onc’t or twic’t, an’ so I thought Id
see how he’d work in a single gear. He cut up
rusty a leetle, an’ n’arly nipped oii‘! my thumb,
the onmannerly brute; but when I once got
him fa’rly bitted he done purty well, barrin’ the
kickin’ an'stumblin’,” concluded Fyflle, with a
_ g-drawn‘ yawn.
.y ‘ It’ll turn out the best day’s work you ever
doome,” said Cress, extending his hand.
I “ I p 11 not forget it very soon, either,
‘ old fellow}? warmly added Poynter.
,. “Wal, of so be on fellers is satisfied. I’m
shore I be,” grunte' J ack, lying back upon the

’ “ But what do you think I’d best do next, Mr.
" Cress?” asked Poynter after a slight pause, a.
."little anxiously. “I t ink, with Sprowl’s evi-
dence. here. I need not hesitate about showing
myself openly once more.”

‘ You have a good deal to work against down
there yet, and I think you’d best wait a little,
and See what we can get out of our friend, you-
der," responded Cress, thoughtfully.

“ Well, I suppose I must, though it’s hard to
be lying idle when such charges are hanging
over me," sighed Poynter.

l —_——.

CHAPTER XII.
roman mus sounrume.

_ 11‘ was in the afternoon of the same day which
’Fyfle had so signalized by his turkey-hunt. The
‘ prisoner, James Meagreson, was occupying the
‘ ‘same position in which S rowl had one n-
' ance some hours before. e had been left are
by his captors to ndei' upon his situation and
reflect as to whic should be his future course,
whether to persist in his denials or acknowledge
defeat and submit to his triumphant enemies
'with such grace as he could muster. ’
In the mean time the three friends were gath-
"ered ,, smoking or conversing id] , or
buried in tli ht. Presently J ack e
.lay back, gropped h s pipe, and then his sterto-
rous breathing announced that he was in a deep,
sound slumber.
, The remainder of theband had either long
, since done the same, or went off upon business
of their own; the scouts sent out having report-
'Bd that all was quiet among the Vigilantes, those
, worthies having disbanded and returned to their
daily ocou tions. no, doubt highly edifled by
their mid ght wild-goose chase.
Save the regular sentinels, none appeared to
v, be upgn the alert excepting Poynter and Crees.
r The tter was covertl but intently regarding
his younger compan on with a strange, far-
. awayf look in his deep-black eyes, while an un-
' conscious sigh would now and then heave up

  
   
   
  
   
  
 
    
  
  
    
 
 
  
 
  
   
    
   
  
    
 
    
  
   
 
   

"98 ,I The Half-Breed Rival.

 

I
from his massive chest, as if engendered by
some painful memory of b gone days.

Poynter suddenly arouse himself,and glancing
hastily around, uttered:

“ Why where’s Sprowl?”

“You er,” returned Crees, pointing to the
ragged form of the man inquired after, lying
under a bush, sleeping. “Poor devil, his last
night was a. hard one.”

‘ True, but he had no one to thank for it save
himself. However, I have some hopes of him
yet. He is not all bad, and for the sake of his
family I am Willing to lend him a helping hand.
His wife, poor thing, has seen but times of
late years. The entire support of the family,
and of this shiftless, lazy brute into the bar in,
has fallen 11 n her. And she is a perfect my
too, for all s e’s uneducated. It’s strange what
choices women will make sometimes!” exclaimed
Poynter. 7‘

The outlaw leader only grunted, “Just 0.”

“ But that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you
about just now. You have several times prom-
ised to tell me your story, and why not fulfill
it now? ’Tis as well as to wait longer.”

“ You are right, and I will do so; althou h I
had intended to wait until after Meagreson ad
acknowledged his guilt. But what Sprowl has
said is enough,” slowly replied Cress, passing a
hand across his brow, as if to chase away some
painful reflection.

“But I have not heard him mention your
name?" cried Poynter, in surprise.

“Yes, you have heard him tell my whole
story, or nearly so. Henry Duaber, my son,
have you no greeting for your father 1'”

“ Son—father!” faltered the young man, gaz.
ing in bewilderment upon the outlaw leader, at
this strange a peal.

“Your fat er, Henry,” continued the elder
mag, in a. choked tone; “can you not believe

e

“But my father was—is dead 1” .

“No, not dead—only in name; he escaped
with life. I am your father. Bg your dead
mother—by mgrsamted wife, boy, swear it!”
solemnly said ees.

“ ls it—can itbe true? I will believe it—fa—
therl” broken] exclaimed the young man,
bending forwa to meet the proiIered embrace.

It was a holy scene, this strange meeting of
Ion parted kindred; and their tears were min-
gle together, tears such as strong men need not
be ashamed to shed. They were deeply affected,
as well they might be, and when the first gush
of emotion had passed. they sat beside each
other, hand clasped in hand, gazing kindly and
affectionately at each other.

“It is stran e—passing strange!" at len h
uttered Henry as we must now.call him, 0 ay
Poynter no longer). “ More like a romance
than any thing in real everyday life. I have
mourned you as dead since my childhood, and
now find you my kindest friend,.while I still
thought you a stranger. How long since you
first recognized me?”

“Not until to-day, although your story
awoke stran fancies, it was so like mine: but
I. too, thong t you were dead, I had heard so,
and saw what purported to be your grave.”

“ My gravel

 

The Half-Breed Rival. 9"

 

“Yes. They told me you had died at nearly
the same time with our mother. Why. I know
not. It could not ve been from malice, for
they knew me not. I was a stranger in my na-
tive home.”

“But yon—how were We deceived and why
did you not tell us of your esca , and our dear
one might still have been alive

“ Listen, and I will tell you all,” replied
James Duaber, in broken tones. “ It is a sad
sad story of cruel wrong and sorrow; but I
was the victim—I and mine! You know the
first, or sufficiently well as to render a resume
unnecessary. But it was James Meagreson—
the wretch yonder—who caused it all for re-
venge, because your mother chose me in prefer-
ence to him.

“A man named Frank Soutar was confined
in the same apartment with me, upon a charge
identical with the one for which I was to suffer:
but as he acknowledged to me, deemin me of
the same gang, he was guilty. The mo knew
nothing 0 his having been changed to my
cell, as it had only been done that same day,
and when they broke open the doors in the
dead of night, he was seized for me in the
confusion and darkness, while I hid beneath the

et.

“And the error was never discovered b the
mob; they hung him, thinking they were oing
as they had been bribed by Meagreson, who
took t at way to insure my death, fearing lest
I should eventually escaIE his revenge if he
left the law to decide. e was hung, but I
took advantage of the open door to flee, and
during the excitement, managed to effect my
escape unmolested.

“ stench friend of mine, Jack Fyfl’e yonder
—who was also under the ban, and in hiding—
managed to secure his two horses and upon
them we rapid! fled the country. IIe had join-
ed the mob wit the hope of assisting me to e»:-
cape, and he alone discovered the error, in time
to return and assist me.

“ We rode hard all that night, and la bid at
day, for we feared that the error woul be dis-
covered in the morning, at least, and then the
bounds would be hot upon our trail. We trav-
eled in this way until out of the State. and far
into the wilds of Arkansas. But even then we
did not feel secure, and thought it best to lie
concealed until the storm had blown over.

“ Still, I wrote, and managed to post two let-
ters to my wife, telling of my safety and that I
would soon return to remove her and you toour
new refuge. Besides this, I counted upon her
knowing of my escape, else I would have dared
all to have seen her.

“So I waited for six months and then was
upon my way back when I met a man who had
just come throu b there. He did not know us,

'and I questions him closely. Then it was that

I learned of her death, and that on. too. had
died. I did not doubt its entire ruth, and in
my wretchedness I plunged into crimes and dis-
sipntion to drown reflection.

“For veers this went on. until atime came
when I felt driven to return to the graves of
my dead. No one knew me; I was a stranger
in my native home, I had changed so, and saw

Where my Wife 13% “Dd What they said w§

 

your lust i'csting—plncc. Then I went back
again to the old life, and lived it until I met
with you.

“ Although I know you not—you had changed
your name, and I did not recognize the little boy
in the stnlwart, handsome mun—I felt drawn
toward you. And now that you know how sin-
ful I have been, will you still take me by the
hand and say, father? It is blackened, but there
is no blood upon it."

“ Father!” cried Henry, once more embracing
the outlaw leader. “ lVbnt matters it now? You
leave this life, and we will be all in all to each
other from now henceforth!”

“Thunder ’n’ lightnin’l jest look at Snukeyl”
yelled out Jack Fyfi‘o, us he sprung to his feet
before them and wildly pointed up the hill.

Aléd there was good cause for his excite-
men .

During the respite afforded by his captors,
Meagreson had not becn idle after the first few
minutes. His was not a mind to despair for
any length of time, and although greatly
astounded at the unexpected meeting with a
man whom he had thought long since num~
bered with the dead, his mind speedily resumed
its wonted activity, and he thought but of es-
cape.

Minute after minute he toiled and twisted at
the thongs that secured him to the tree, until
they rolled up into hours. The skin and flesh
were terribl ' abraded, yet he did not heed
the pain. very instant he expected the re-
turn of his enemies, to receive the decision he
might have arrived at, when in all probability
the progress he had already made would be dis—
covered.

Little by little he worked the cords loose until
one of his hands slipped from the noose. It was
with the greatest difficulty that he restrained
the shout of exultution that arose to his lips; but
he did so, and then his other hand was free.

With his hands once free, it was but the work
of a minute for the captive to release the rest of
his body, and he stopped from the tree, a free
man once more. His (cen eyes glanced hurried-
1 around, and in the one look, took in every
0 ance, both for and against his escape.

If he started to flee upon foot, he would, to an
almost dead certainty, be discovered and over-
taken, as his frame was stiif and weary. Be-
sides under cover of the one little clumf in
which he. now stood, the entire hillside was nlly
ex osed to the View of the three men below.

ut his eye glittered, and the old cold gray
look settled u ion his face, as his gaze fell upon
the form of a orsc. all ready e nipped for the
road. standing carelessly hitclie to a endent
bough. If he could once reach that, he elt that
escape was assured. _

Gathering all his faculties and straining eve
nerve, Meagi-eson made a wild bound from his
covert and dashed swiftly down the hillside
toward the horse. And had it not been for the
watchful eyes of Jack Fylfe, no doubt he would
have succeeded. perfectly. But the borderer’s
shout brought both father and son to their feet.
pistol in hand.

“ After him, J ack—Hen I” yelled the outlaw
loader, “ don't shoot—take im alive,” but as he

 

   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
    
   
    
    
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
 

28

 

The Half-Breed Rival.

  

 

spoke, the revolvers of his companions were dis-
c int-god.

Discharged, but the only perceptible result
was a quicker and longer bound upon the fugi-
tive’s part.

“ Take him, boys; for God’s sake don‘t let him
get free! You men on guard—~stop that horse!"
screamed the chief, as the trio bounded forward
With headlong speed.

The fugitive gained the rearing horse in safety,
tearing the bridle-reins loose, lea d into the
saddle, and with a. wild yell, darte away, wav-
ing his hand in defiance. And to the great cha-
grin of his enemies, he disappeared in triumph
among the trees.

But their speed was suddenly checked. and for
a moment they paused, glancing at each other.
Their ears had caught a clear challenge to halt,
closely followed by a single whip-like crack;
then a wild shriek as of a human being in mor—
tal agony, the quick trampling of hoofs, and
then all was still.

As they once more pressed forward in painful
suspense, a hollow, unearthly groan sounded
from the spot whence the shot had come. Burst-
ing through the bushes, the quartettc—for
Sprowl had also joined them—beheld a terrible
si ht.

a man—one of the outlaw guards—was coolly
recharging his rifle, with his aze bent upon a
bleeding form before him. Jiylhcre, pale and
ghastly, lay the form of James Meagreson; not

ead, ut apparently dying. The lower portion
of his bod lay still and motionless, but his head
and shoul ers writbed to and fro, while his arms
were tossed wildly about, in the intensity of his
a my.

The fatal missile had entered his stomach, and
passing throu h, had broken his back.

The men di not attempt to remove.him or to
bandage his wound; they saw that such a course
would only be inflicting useless torment upon
him, that is time had come; his life slowly
ebbing away with the fastfleeting moments.
Two of them knelt beside his head, and kept him
from hastening his end by the useless struggles.

James Duaber spoke to him kindly, imploring
him to confess before he died, but his only an-
swer was bitter revilings and curses, the fearful
words coming as they did from lips fast chilling
in the embrace of death, caused even those
stron men to turn aside with a shudder.

An thus he died, still reckless and defiant—a
fitting end for his long and sinful life. There
were grave faces that surrounde'l him, as breath
went out, but no tears. no grief at his tragic
end. Their injuries had been far too deep.

By this time the majority of the troop had
collected, alarmel by the disturbance, and a
number of them were detailed by their chief to
prepare a grave for the dead man. It was soon
completed, and the corpse was quietly lowered
into the bark—lined pit; then the damp mold
covered him forever from mortal ken. There
was no whispered prayer, no murmured blessing
over the unhallowed grave, and nothing but the
long, narrow mound remained to show where
the unfortunate being had been laid for his last
brig sleeping-place.

nloved he had lived, and unloved he had
died. Poor James Meagreson.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII.
DEATH AMID JOY.

“'HEN we raise the curtain once more upon
our characters, it is after the lapse of three
months. A quarter of a year, that has not been
uneventful to those in whom We are interested;
but we cannot linger upon them. A brief glance
at the leading episodes is all. .

The unfortunate death of James Meagreson
changed the entire )luns of the outlawed couple
—father and son. at first of all James Duabcr
announced to his followers his intention of
leaving them, and for the future leading an hon-
est life.

Some of them murmured, but their chief was
too highly estemed and respected for them to
raise any serious opposition. Some few of their
number joined him in his resolve, but the ma—
f‘ority determined to continue on; the wild free

ife having charms the could not resist. ut it
was agreed to leave t e neighborhood, and ply
their calling elsewhere.

So their attention was only turned to the vin-
dication of Henry Duaber’s honor, as the father
was totally unknown to the settlers, and the
charges brou ht against him had long since
passed into 0 livion. Their first move was to
secretly abduct Frank Dalton, and when he was
confronted with Wesley Sprowl, and found that
his perjury had been discovered, he promised to
make restitution, as far as lay in his power at
an time he was called upjvn.

hus prepared, Hem"; ' uabcr boldly returned
to the settlement whet e be was once more arrest-
ed by the excited Vigilance Committee. His trial
came off in good time, and thanks to the candor
of his witnesses, he was triumphantly acquitted.

None were more cordial and sincere in their
congratulations than Neil McGuire and “ Honest
Jim” Henderson, who declared his bar was free
to everybody upon the joyous occasion.

There was some talk about giving the Jer-
jured witnesses a taste of “ birch law," ut,
thanks to the firm opposition of Henry and
others, it was not carried into cifect. There was
one familiar face missing among the crowd, but
none regretted this fact. Polk Rcdlaw was not
in the best of odor among his quondam asso-
ciates, and did not make his appearance.

The “big house ” was reopened, and old Aunt
Eunice in her glory once more, never tiring of
dwelling upon the prominent part she had pla ed
in the late events. Henry met with no furt er
opposition from the father of Nora, and matters
progressed finely between the young couple, and
at the same time no less rapidly.

Henry was an ardent suitor, and pleaded his
case so well that the “ fatal day ” was set; and
when we reopen our chronicle it had arrived.
Great preparations had been made, and although
the weather was somewhat cool, it was decided
to have a grand barbecue and dance by moon-
light in the open air.

Upon the summit of a little knoll wasa sort
of pavilion, erected for the dancing. The floor
was composed of puncheons, the flat side upper-
most, rudely dressed witb an ax. Seats of the
same were ran ed around the sides, each end
resting upon a lock of wood. At one extremity
projecting beyond the platform, a. stand was

   

The Half-Breed Rival. 29

 

erected for the musicians, of whom there were
three already present. ‘ I .

Busy preparations were gomg on a little dis-
tnnce from the pavilion, for the “ barbecue;” in
full view, but far enough away to avoid incon-
venience from the smoke, deer and hogs were
being prepared for the spit—cattle were by far
too valuable for that purpose—while turkey,
ducks, prairieehickens and smaller game were
being roasted at the house. These minor items
were to be furnished by the guests, who were
each expected to “ bring something.”

It was early yet, but “out West” that is the
fashion, and several parties had already arrived,
although too few to begin dancing. Then the
guests began to drop in more frequently; singly,
in couples, or small parties of several; the ladies
hastening to the cabin to make any little bar-
rangeinent of their tinery, while their cavaliers
unsaddled the horses, securing them to the sur—
rounding trces, placing» fodder before them, and
then joining the company already gathered at
the pavilion.

Presently the scraping and tuning of violins
broke the, spell, and seemed to dissipate. the re-
straint that surrounded all parties. Tho groups
began to mingle and converse more freely; the
tap of some dainty foot to be heard as it kept
unconscious time to the music: the confused re—
quest and murmured consent to dance: then the
order, “Choose your pardners, boys!” the sets
were formed, and Henry, with Nora, led off.

The fun waxed fast and furious, the din in-
creased, and the sets appeared mixed in inextri—
cablo confusion, the clatter of heavy-soled,
horse-hide boots, the lighter fall of a more
dainty foot, the rustle of dresses and shuffle ot’
moccasins, with now and then a gay burst of
laughter at some unlucky Wight who makes a lu-
dicrous blunder: or a stentorian shout H‘om sonto
half~wild borderer as he grows excited: mixed
and intermingled with the music, more loud than
melodious, while above all soars the clear veice
of the “ caller-off."

The picture is homely, we grant you, but
it is pleasant, nevertheless, and it would be hard
indeed to find a fashionable gathering that con-
tains so little alloy of envy, 1 uin and hypocris
as this little congregation of rude, unpohshe( ,
but kind and open»hcartcd people. Rough and
unlettcred they may be, but their hospitality
shames that of many a more pretentious class;
while it would indeed be hard to find a truer or
a more generous heart than those that beat un—
der a deer-skin hunting-shirt, or homespun dress
of linsey-woolsey.

Occasionally durin the figure “promenade
all,” the toe of some c uinSy Swami 01‘ DelfChance
that of his rosy lassie, would catch fast in some
crevice or protuberance between the rudely—
joined uncheons, that cast them With Violence
to the oor. The next couple being too close and
under great headway, would follow suit, and a,
mass of writhing. struggling humanity form a
prostrate heap upon the floor.

011! what a burst of laughter would then as-
ccnd from hearty lungs, echoing through the
woods from grove to grova, arousin the feath-
ered songsters from their nests, causing them to
chirp and twlttel'. no doubt wondering what
possessed the People at that unseasonable hour.

 

Then Jack Fyfle—who did not dance—caused
a renewed burst of merriment by seating him-
self upon one end of an unusually refractor
slab, to hold it in its proper place, as he sa'u .
And there he sat, as solemn as a judge, smoking
his pipe complacently, as thouin a crowd of gay
dancers were. not whirling all about him, until
the. gathering broke up for supper.

And such a supper! More {it to be lik-
ened to a bounteous dinner. served up for a
regiment of half—famishcd, war—worn soldiers.
The long tables, manufactured from slabs of
rudely—hewn wood, and supported by stake!
probably furnished from the limbs of the sam(
tree, were piled almost to overflowing with
game and pastry.

Such saddles and haunches of venison; deli-
cious buffalwhumps and pickled tongues-tho
proceeds of an extended hunt. for this especial
occasion—tho wild turkey, lusciously brown and
tempting, almost buisting with the rich dress-
ing; the prairie-chicken and pheasant, nail and
ship’e; even down to the huge “ black- ird pot-
pie.

Then the appetizing pastry and preserves, the
results of that same season’s “l>erry-hunting;”
the honey, from that as clear and limpid as am-
ber, to the dark and strong-flavored “bee—
bread”—the varicolored comb piled in great
stacks.

And the strong, fragrant cotl’ee, sweetened
with honey and tempered with the thick, golden
cream; the highly— rized tiny cups of “ real
boughten tea,” mingled with stronger draughts
for those so inclined, of “corn—whisky” and
crab—apple cider.

All this, to say nothing of the barbecued game,
which is in great demand from the very novelty
of its cooking-I could not tell you one tithe of
the good things that were there; the very si ht
of such abundance seeming enough to banish
one’s appetite for a fortnight to come.

Henry and Nora were the gayest of the ay,
even among that hap ycrowd. and kept tfiose
surrounding them in t 0 highest glee with their
witticism and rcpartee. But they left the table
among the first, and strolled back toward the
pavilion.

Jack Fyfie fidgetcd around fora few moments
and then hastily followed after, announcing his
approach with a sonorous cough, that startled
the young couple into turning around.

“ cg pardin, square,” apologetic-ally began
the bordcrer “but p’r‘aps you’d better be on
y’ur ard, like."

“ by so, Josh?—what do you mean?" asked
Henry.

“Jest take a. squint over yander, an' mebhe
you’ll See.”

Duaber lanced in the direction indicated
and a hot ush passed over his face as he noticed
the tall, dark form of Polk Redlaw leaning
against a tree, apparently deeply absorbed in
thought. But him the been a little clowr. a
a snakelike look would ave been seen fi oni he~
Death the slouched hat, fixed vindictivcly upon
them, while one of the hands that rested across
his bosom fiercely gripped the bait of a lon ,
teen.” knife, hidden within his shirt. “ e

ere. -

 

    
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
    
 
  
  
  
 
  
   
     
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
 
     

30

The Half-Breed Rival.

   

 

“ Never mind, Henry, let him go,” nervously
whispered Nora, “ he can’t hurt you now."

“If he keeps his distance I will not molest
him,” answered Henry. “Besides, I do not be—
lieve he is armed. Do you see any, Jack?”

“No, but that don’t signify,” gruntod that
worthy. “A snake don’t show its teeth tell it
goes to strike, an’ he’s a C()})p(‘l'll€ll.(l, he is."

“ Well, I’ll watch him," and the young con la
turned away, while Jack, his mind relieved )y
delivering the warning, repaired to the table to
indulge in another meal.

But in live minutes more Henry had totally
for rotten the warning, and had thoughts only
for om. Fortunately she was not so oblivious,
and hearing a slight noise behind them turned
sudden] , 'ust in time to behold the crouching
form 0 the mongrel, as he uplifted his heavy
knife.

Her shriek startled Duaber, and he quickly
turned, in the nick of time, to nimbly avoid
his enemy‘s rush, adroitly trippln him with
one foot, while he delivered a lig thing—like
blow with his right fist, full upon the dastard’s
neck, that hurled him headlong to the ground
as if he had been shot. Before the affray
could go any further, the combatants were
surrounded and Redlaw disarinell, being rather
roughly handled by J ack P‘yfl’c, who finally
ended by kicking him from the grounds.

In a short time the incident was forgotten
by the majority, and the dancing once more
resumed. ut Jack did not occupy his old si-
tiou, and when he a aiii appeared he was ully
armed, a rifle in ham? and revolver at his waist.

Neither did he enter the pavilion, but station-
ed himself at a little distance, beside a tree,
where his form was so blended with the shadows
that at a score yards distant it was not VlSll)le.
So another hour passed away, and he obstinate-
ly retained his post, hecdless of fatigue.

Suddenl he uttered a low grunt, and crouch-
ed forwar . half—raising his rifle, while the faint
click told of its being cocked. Adini, shadow-
like form had caught his roving glance, and up-
on it his ever attention was now centered.
Twice the long arrel rose to his cheek, and as
often was it lowered, while his head owned for—
ward as if in doubt.

Just then the music ceased, at the words,
“ Promenade all-to your seatsl” and the dan-
cers separated. Jack Fyfi‘e gave vent to a start-
ling yell, and quickly raising his rifle, discharg-
ed it with an instantaneous aim.

The wild cry that followed told how true had
been his aim; but it was duplicated. Quick as
had been his motion, another flash had streamed
out upon the darkness, from one spot at which he
had aimed. and Iwo cries were mingled with the
reverberating echoes, and then came a dull, heavy
fall u on the floor of the pavilion.

Jae did not glance toward the latter, but
with an angry how], more like that of a famish—
ed wild beast than a man, leaped forward to-
ward the spot from whence had come the secret
shot. A dark form lay there, motionless and si-
lent, but he heeded not that. One by one the
chambers of his revolver were emptied, and then
he spurned from him with his foot the dead and
mangled form of the mongrel assassm, Polk Red-
111W.

 

In the pavilion a pale and horrified oup were
gathered, some bendin over the blee ing, sense-
less formpf Henry Dua r, while others attended
to the fainting girl who was so soon to have be-
come his bride. Heads were gravely shaken in
answerto inquiring looks; their decision was
that the young man would never ak again.

He breathed faintly, but eac respiration
seemed as if it would be his last. The blood
slowly oozed from a ghastly wound upon his
head, (and they said that his brain had been
pierce .

But we are happy to be enabled to state that
they were greatly mistaken: had it been true, it
would have made too sorrowful an ending to our
story—vone that the reader might well grumble
at; for there had been no marriage as yet, and
what is a novel without that?

In fact, he recovered his senses long before
Nora did, and when his wound was washed, it
was found that the bullet had only cut a deep
gush upon his head. merely stunning him for the
time being. When he had once convinced N era.
that he was really unharmed, he declared he
only had a slight headache, and made the us-
sertion good b carrying out the original pro-

amme, and erolcally passing the tryin 0r-

eal of changing the young lady into Mrs. 018.
Duaber, that same night.

The dance was broken up by this catastro he
and while no one expressed pit for the (feed
man, he was reverently buried, efore another
sun shone. Nora knew nothin of this at the
time. and her joy was uncloud , for more rea-
sons than one. -

And now we must leave them, with only a
few parting words.

The young couple duly entered the “big
housefl where, with Aunt unice for a house-
keeper, they led a peaceful, be p life. A few
years since, James Duaber died), lbved and re-
s ected by all who knew him; the fact of his
od reckless life having never transpired, the
secret bein safe between the three.

Wesley prowl still lives, and is in moderate-
ly comfortable circumstances. thanks to the
generosity with which Henry Duaber fulfilled
his promise. He is not rich, and never will be;
his disposition prevents that. But his sad and
lon suffering wife has greatly changed for the
bet r we are glad to state.

And worthy Jack Fyfl’e, although now well
along in years, is still hale and hearty; can

handle his heavy rifle with suflicient precision
to keep the larder well supplied with small
game, and takes great delight in teaching the
little Duabers how to shoot, swim and ride.
He and " Honest Jim ” Henderson are great
cronies, often sitting for hours over their glasses
and pipes, vying with each other in their stories
of “ when I was young.” To listen for a while,
one would be strongly tempted to believe that
“ Sindbad the Sailor,” Robinson Crusoe ” or the
worthy “Baron Munchausen” had returned to
life, and inhabited the shapes of “ the venerable

story-tellers.”
ran 3ND.

   

HADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY.

ll Denver Doll‘s Device; or. The Detective Queen,
By Edward L. Wheeler.

258 T 6 Bo Tenderfoot: or, Roaring Ben Bundy of
Colo o. B Capt. Mark Wilton.

$4 Black Hills en; or, Dutch Jan on the War-
Path. By Maj. Lewis W. Carson.

255 Jolly Jim Detective; or, The Young Protege‘s
Victory. 'By Charles Morris.

256 Merle Monte‘s Last Cruise; or, The Sea Robber
at Ba . I81 Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

‘257 The oy niet of Rocky Pass; or, The Young
California Pards. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain.

258 Denver Doll as Detecrive. By E. L. Wheeler.

259 Little Foxeye, the Colorado Spy. B‘ylofl Coomes.

260 Skit. the Cabin Boy. Ry Edward illett.

all Blade, the S ort- or, the Giant of Clear Grit
(‘amp. By} . C. arbaugh.

262 Billy, the oy Rover. By Col. P. In sham.

263 Buster Bob‘s Buoy' or, Lize, the ht-House
Keeper. By Calgt. J. F. 0. Adams.

264 Denver Doll‘s ar‘ner; or, Big Buckskin the
S rt. By E. L. Wheeler. _

265 B liy, the Baggage Boy: or, The Young Railroad.
Detective. BK Charles Morris.

966 Guy‘s Bo C um' or, The Forest Wall‘s Mask.
By Ca t. omstocir.

287 Giant eov'ge's Revenge; or, The Boys of ” Slip-
l'iglliine.” By Buckskin Sam.

268 e Deadshot Dandy; or. The Rio Grande
Marauders. By Col. Prentiss ingroham.

289 The uartzville Boss; or, Daring David Darke
By E ward Willett.

270 Denver Doll's Mine; or, Little Bill‘s Big Loss.
B‘ymE. L. Wheeler.

3271 E ny Jim’s Terror; or, Ranger Rainbolt‘s Ruse.
By Oll Coomes.

272 Kit, the Girl Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh.

273 The Girl Rider; or, Nimble Ned‘s Surprise. By
Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

274 Dead Shot andy’s Double; or. Benito, the Boy
Pard. By (‘01. Prentiss lnzraham.

275 Fred, the Ocean Wall; or, The Old Sailor‘s
Protege. B Charles Morris.

276 Deadwood lck Trapped. By Ed L. Wheeler.

27? The I 1iot Boy Avenger- or Captain Wild-Cat's
Big Game. By Albert . A ken.

278 Arizona 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. Bv Col. Prentiss Inzraham.

281 Ned, the B0\'?ilot; or, The Pirate Lieutenant‘s
Doom. By Jack Farragut.

282 Buck Hawk. Detective- or. the Messenger Boy’s
Fortune. By Edward  Wheeler.

283 Roving B rt Kit; or, The Ghost of Chuckaiuck
Cam . y Edward Willett.

284 The howman‘s Best Card- or, The Mad Animal
Tamer. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

285 Old Rocky s Pard; or, Little Ben’s Chase. By
Buckskin Sam.

286 Dick, the Dakota Sport. By Charles Morris.

28? Neil, the B0 Ski per: or. The Sea Sorceress'
Cruise. By sck arragut

288 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the
Sport. Bv Edward L. Wheeler.

289 Col 'rado Nick, the Lassnist; or. Old 51's Protege.
By Major H. B. Stoddard.

290 Rube. the Tenderfoot- or, the Boys of Torpedo
Gulch. By Major E. L. St. Vram.

291 Peacock Pete. Ihe Lendville 8 ion; or, Hawk, the
Boss Miner. By Albert W. A ken.

292 Joe Moreky. the Night-Hawk; or. the Black Rider,
By Jos. . Badger, Jr.

293 Dwarf Jake. the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon's
Man-Hunt. By Edward Willett. ,

294 Dumb Dick's Pard' or. Eliza Jane, the Gold
Miner. By Ed. L Wheeler.

295 White wing. the Ferret Flyer. By Chas. Morris.

30 Govinda, the Tiger-Tamer; or, The American
Wm Brownian Whittaker. A

 

29? Arizona Giant George: or The BoyeesotSardino-
Box City. B Buckskin m.

298 Daisy Doll‘s ash; or, The Ten Colorado Parda.
By’l. .‘. Harbaugh.

299 T 1e Balloon Detectives; or, Jack Slasher‘s Young
Pard. By Barry Enton.

8(1) Deadwood Dick is Mission. B E. L. Wheeler.

301 ganidy Duke. the Cowboy. y Msdor E. L. St.

rs n.

802 Bip; Bonson‘s Bet. By T. C. Harbaugh.

803 The Hotel Boy De'ective; or. The Grand Central
Robbery. By Charles Morris.

801 Bald Head‘s Pard; or, Creeping Cat's Cunning.
By Buckskin Sam.

805 Dusky Dick's Duel; or, The Demon’s Trail. By
Harry Hazard.

306 Spotter Fr 12; or, The Store-Detective’s Decoy.
B E. L. Wheeler.

80? ick the B0 Sport; or, Three Plucky Pards.
By ajor E. St, Vraln.

808 Double-Fisted Mat: or, The Mystic California
Giant. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

809 0.1iGraybeard‘s Boy: or. The Girl's Ruse. By
C. Duumn Clark.

310 Kit, the ‘iri Ca taln: or, The Mad Sailor'lI
Legacy. By Col. rentiss In aham.

811 Frio Fran in Texas. By Buc skin Sam.

312 The Detective Road—Agent' or The Miners of
Sassafras (‘ity. By Edward L. Wheeler.

31.5 Honest Jack‘s Pro ego; or. The Dwari‘s Scheme.
By Philip S. Warns

314 Ciip the Boy Sheriif' 07‘, The Two Crooks of
Montana. By Edward Willett.

015 Tom, the Arizona Sport; or. Howling Hank from
Hard Luck. By Major E. L. St. Vrnin.

016 The Street Arab Detective; or, Dick Dorgan‘s
Double Dealing. By Charles Morris.

317 lhn-kskln Den of Texas; or. Single Eye’s Plucky
Pards. By Buckskin Sam.

31?: Colorado Char ie's Detective Dash; or, The
Cattle K‘ngs. By Edward L. Wheeler.

319 Frisky Frnn': in lrlaho; or. Old Skinflint the
Shndowol‘. By Roger Starbuck.

820 Cool Sam‘s Girl Pard; or. Captain Dick and His
T« xans. By T. C. Harbaugh.

321 Billy. the Kid from Frisco; or. Silver Mask’s
Clow. By J. 0. Cowdrick.

322 Fred Fiver, Detective; or. Abe Blizzard on Deck.
By C mrius Morris.

323 lh-ml Shot Ike in Montana' or. Hez Helper, the
Yankee Pnnl. By Roger S arhuck.

324 Kit. the Dvnvor Sport: or. The Bonanza Miner
King. By Edward L. Wheeler.

3% Dusky Darrell the Camp Detective; or, The
Dandy's During Dash. By Edwin Emerson.

326 Roy. the Boy ()ruisor: or. The Water Wolt
Wreckers. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrabam.

327 Ned. the Roving Minor; or. Arkansaw Jack's
Match. By Harry Hazard.

828 Rocky Ben’s Band; or, Big Pete‘s Big Haul. By
W. J. Hamilton.

329 envie. the Colorado Wrestler. By Maj. E. L. St.

ra n.

830 The Denver Sport's Racket; or. Kit's Big Boom.
B Edward L. What ler.

881 T e Const Detective; or, The Smuggler Shadow-
er. By Roger Slarbuck.

889 Dakota Dan in Canyon City: or. Colorado Kate's
Check. By Philip S. Warns.

83‘! Bootblack Ben. the Detective' or, Pooler Jim
and His Ford. By AnthoTnlyP. o s.

884 Frisco Tom on Deck; or. re Golden Gate Smug-
zit-rs. By George Henry Morse.

835 Ben Bandy, the Boss Perri; or, The Plucky
Parson. J. Stanley Henderson.

380 Fred. the @rt, in Brimstone Bar Cam 2 or.
The Boston restler's Confederate. By d. L,
Wheeler.

38? Daisy Dave the Colorado Galoot; or. The Boss
of Dead Lina 0i . By T. C. Harbaugh.

338 The Gold Bar De tlve; or. iron Ike, the Solid
Man. 3v Major E. 11. 8t. Vrall.

 

BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY.

 

889 Bard the Boy Gygsy. By Wm. G. Patten.

840 Billy uhble‘s 13‘ ‘core. By Charles Morris.

341 Colorado Steve‘s ash. By Philip S. Warns.

342 Snap-Shot Sam. By Bucksin Sam.

843 Mike. the Bowery Detective; or. I’eleg Prancer
of Vermont. By Edward L. Wheeler.

844 The Drummer Sport. By Edward Willetr.

845 anues. the Hardpan Detective‘ or. Captain
Frisco the RoadAzzent. ByJ. C. Cowdrick.

B46 Joe. the Chicago Arab. By Charles Morris.

347 Middy Herbert‘s Prize. 3y Col. 1’. lnuruhsm.

348 Sharp-Shower Frank. B Buckskin Sam.

849 Buck. the Miner. By Maj. . L. St.Vrnin.

350 Ned the Slub City Sport. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

351 Roe Mountain Joe. By Col. T. H. Monstery.

352 New ork Tim. By Charles Morris.

858 The Girl Pilot. By Roger Starbuck.

854 Joe. the Bo StageDnver. By Maj. St. Vrein.

855 Texas Fran 's Cmng or. The Girl Mustang
Rider. By Books in am.

3.56 Idaho Ned, Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.

857 Guy. the Bo Miner. By Col P. Imrrnham.

35% Jersey Joe t e Old Tar. By Mrs. Orin James.

859 Dandy Dick's Dash; or. The Boy Cattle-King.
By Oll Comes.

860 Jim‘s Big Bonanza. By W. J. Hamilton.

361 Oregon Phil, the Sport By Philip S. Wame.

8% Kit, the Bombiack DW-crive. Bv E L. Wheeler.

3363 The Ocean Racer. By T. C. Hnrbnuzh.

86! Fritz‘s Old Score. By Ned Buntiine.

855 Crack Shot Harry. B Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

366 Gold Dust Rock. the hiriwind of the Mines.
By G. Waldo Browne.

867 Fred’s Bold Game. By Paul Blbbs.

838 Jim, the Sport in Wake—up By Ed. L. Wheeler.

369 Captain Blake’s Jonah. 1y Roger Storhuc‘l.

370 Denver Kit‘s Double. By Mn, or H. B. Stoddard.

371 Blue Blazes Dick. By T. C. arhaugh.

372 The Sea Cat’s Prize. By Col. Prentiss Ingruhem.

I73 Larry O‘Lynn‘s Dash. By JoSeph F‘. Henderson.

374 Jim. the S ort’s Biz Boom; or. The Bonanza.
King’s RivaE By Edward L. Wheeler.

875 Bower Bob, Detec'ive. By Jo Pierce.

876 Bucks in Dick‘s Clean Swee : or, Jonathan
Jenks‘ Still Hunt. By 001. A:t)ur1<‘. Holt.

877 The Deadwood Sports. By Linut. S. G, Lansing,

371 B‘onco Billy. the Saddle Prince. By Colonel
Prentiss Ingraimm.

879 Dick. the Stowaway. By Charles Morris.

8&0 Young Dick Tall) >t. By Albert W. Aiken.

381 Dandy Bill’s Doom; or, Deerhunter, the Boy
Scout. By 011 Cooms. .

382 Wide-Awake 1 en 0 By Edward Willet.

383 Wild Bill, the PlSH) Prince. By Col. lnzrnhmn.

884 Brimstone Bill's Booty: or, Mnriposa Min-w: at
Dead Man’s Gulch By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

885 The Boy Tram 5. By J. M. Hoffman.

386 The Montana. id; or, Lillie Dan Rock’s MiS~
sion. By Morris Redwing.

387 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Hnrhauzh.

888 The Pony Express Rider; or. Buffalo Bill’s
Frontier Feats. By Col. Prentiss lnzrohnn}.

889 New York Bill, the Dodger By Edward Willett.
390 The Ticket-of-Lenve'fl Trick; or. Spring Steel.
King of the Bush. By J soph E. Badger. Jr.

391 Calorie Skylark, the Sport. By Major Henry
8. Sim dard. .
392 Texas Jack, the Mustang King.

Prentiss Ingrnham.
893 Peter the Dandy Greenhom. By Noah Nut'f.
empie‘s Biz Strike. By Barry Ringgold.
, the Country Boy, in New York. By
Char es Morris.
896 Detective Paul‘s Right Bower.
397 Tip Tressell. the Flatbost Boy.

By Colonel

B C. D. Clark.
By Ed. Will~-tt.

398 Captain Jack in Bocflléocost. BgCol. Ingmham.
an.

S. W. Pierce.

31') Harry Same“. the
recker.

Black Horse Bill. the Bandit
m Backer Starbufl'

 

401 Tim the, Mule Boy of the Mines. By Chas. Morris.

402 Flat oat Fred on the Mississip i. ByE Willelt.

403 Jake, the Colorado Circus oy. By Bryant
Bninbridge.

404 Toan Charlie's Wild Ride. By Col. P. Ingrnhnm.

405 WideAnake Ned. By Barry Ringgold.

406 Ginnr Pele and His Purds. By T. C. Harbau h.

407 Old Rufi‘s Protege; or, Little Riflc's Secret. y
Captain Bruin Adams.

408 Stowaway Dick Abroad. By Charles Morris.

409 Doctor Carver, the Champion Shof. By Col. P.
Ingrzlham.

410 Captain Fl -By-nght, the Colorado King-Pin
By Jon. E i edger, Jr.

411 New York Jack’s Mettle. By Barry Bin gold.

41? auxin Stpence, the Broadhorn Boy. By dward

'i let .

413 Revolver Billy in Texas.

414 Dasher Dick's Dead Lock. 8

415 Pony. the Cowboy Chief. L’y . B. Stoddard.

416 Panther Dick‘s Death Lea . By A. F. Holt.

417 Fighting Fred of Frisco, y T. C. Harbau h.

418 Buckskin Sam‘s Wild Ride. B Col. P Ingro. mm.

419 Frisco Guy's Big Bonanza. By Roger Sta: buck.

420 Pat Mth ny‘s Pard. B Emerson Rodmun.

421 Tim, the Boy Acrobat. By Charles Morris.

422 Red Spur R lph, the Texan. By C D. Clark.

423 Dashing Bub. the Pony Express Rider. By Col.
Prentiss Ingraham.

4'34 Torn Stone, the Old Sm Dog. By C. D. Clark.

42.) Derky J umhle's Wild Ride. By Barr Ringp‘old.

426 Wolf-Cu ; or, The Night-Hawks o the Fire-
Lunds. y Capt Chas. Howard.

427 Bessie. the Border Girl. By Henry J. Thomas.

4‘28 Nab nskn (,‘linrnie. By C l. P. Ingrnhnm.

429 Bill Berler's Bonanza. Br Edward Wlllett.

430 Long Shot; or, The Dwarf Guide. By Captain

Comstock.
431 Lillie. the Reckless Rider. By Maj. H. B. Stod-
432 By Charles Morris.

dnrd, Fix-Scout.
COul Clark‘s Rash Race.
433 Old Grizzh~ in the Rockies. By Col. P. ingrnham.
431 Joe. the Rovur Sport. By A. H. Post.
435 An Irish Sport Abroad. By C. L. Edwards.
436 Oregon Josh, the Wizard Rifle. By R. Slurbuck.
437 Det c'ive Jake‘s Clew. By H. B. Stoddard.
438 Fancy Frank‘s Drop. By Col. P. Ingruhnm.
439 §3Ylvrspun or, The Mountain Heroine. By Ed.
i “lt.
410 The llr-ath Shot. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
441 Wi~tnh, the Child Spy. By George Gleason.
41:3 lhrk. the Sea Dandy. B Rn er Starbuck.
4113 Tue Manked Avenger. y C . P. I rahum.
444 Cow C nrk's Dead-Set. By Charles nrrls.
445 Old Pugs, the Mountaineer. By L. W. Carson.
446 Black Panther, the Half-Blood. By Joseph E.
"edge-r. Jr.
447 The antelope Boy. By George L. Aiken.
443 Wild Raven, the Scout. By Oll Coomes.
449 The Boy Pilot. By Colonel P. ingraham.
450 Kidnappvd Dick. By J. Stanley Henderson.

451 Silvr—r Rifle, the Girl Tracker. By Capt. 0. url. s
Howard.

452 The Giant Hunter. By Harry Hazard.

4 3 The Half-Breed Rival. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
Ready September 14th.

454 The Darky Detez-tive. By Mrs. Orin James.
Ready September 21%t.
A New L'sue Evr'ry Wednesday.

Bunnn‘s POCKET LIBnAnv is for sale by all News
dealers five cents per copy, or sent by mail on re
ceipt or six cents each.

Bums AND ADAMS, Publishers,
98 Wdfinm‘ Street, New York.

By Col. P. I raham.
J. M. fioffman.