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Copyrighted, 185.5, by ISBADLI AND AnAMs. Entered :n. the, Post ()mco at New YorkV N. Y., ms Second Clnsa Mu“ Manet. Nov. 14, 178.“.

 

$2.50 Published Weekl b Beadle and Adams P l- .
V01.  a Year. NO. 98 Wlmi‘MyST” NEW YORK. , Flverégnta. N0:  I

PONY BOB, the Reckless Rider of the Rockies.

A true history of the Ilfe of R. ll. llnnlnm, who made himself famous as n Pony Express Rider and

 

“Flying Courier” 1n the Rocky Mountnlus, a quarter of n century ago.

BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAK'.

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BREATELESSLY THE DESTROYING ANGELS WATCHED THE BRAVE BOY. SAW TEE HORSE FORCED INTO THE
AIR, BANG SUSPENDED AN INSTANT AS IT WERE, AND THEN COME DOWN UPON THE OFHER BANK.

 

 

Pony Bob,

The Reckless Rider of the Rockies.

A u ue history of the life of Robert H.
flaslum, who made hilnsell‘falnous
as 1: Pony Express Rider and
“ Flying Courier” in the
Rocky Mountains, 8.
quarter of a. cen-
tury ago.

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR or “ADVENTURES or BUFFALO BILL,”
“WILD BILL," ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.
THE BOY RUNAWAY.

 

“I AM not guilty, and you shall not whip 1

mel”
“I am convinced that you are guilty, and I
will whip you until you confess that you are.”
“No—no—no! do not strike me, for you are
not my own father, and your son told you an

‘mtruth when he said that it was I who took the l

m he?!”

“ hy should Walter tell me that you took
the money if he had not; seen you do so?”

The one addressed remained silent at this
question, but gazed straight into the face of the
questioner.

The one was a. boy of sixteen, small in stature,
but graceful, agile and quick in every move-
ment.

He had a resolute, intelligent face, but his
dark 9 es were marred by being badly crossed.
an un ortunate circumstance that had caused

' him much unhappiness even in the few years
that he had lived.

He was well dressed. and the house where he
dwelt was a handsome one, situated upon the

English coast, and surrounding it were evidences ‘

of luxury which wealth alone could buy.

The one who confronted the youth was a
stern-faced man of forty, with the air of one
born in refinement, but a face that showed
treachery and cruelty.

To the youth he stood in the relationship of
step-father—a widower himself, with one son,
he having married the boy’s mother some two
years before the scene that opens this story.

From the day that his step-father and his son
entered the house, the troubles of my hero be-
gan, for he was bullied unmercifnlly by both,
and only stood what he did for the sake of his
mother, who, alas! too late had seen her mistake
in marrying again. '

The scene that brought a climax in the house-
hold, was caused by the discovery by the man
that a wallet of bank-notes had been taken from
his private desk, and his son laid the guilt
upon his ste -brother to escape himself from
an lcion, he eing the guilty one.

nscious of his own innocence, and also of
the hilt of his stepmother, my hero was de-
term H , not to be punished tor the theft.

Pony Bob.

Nor would he tell upon his stepmother, al-
thou in he had been always most shamefully
used y him.

“ If you did not steal the money, who did?"
asked the man, sternly.

“ I anewer for myself only, and I swear that
ti) am innocent,” was the firm response of the

0y.

“ You lie, and I shall force you to confess,”

cried the man, and he sprung toward the boy,

a cane uplifted to strike him.

. Quick as a. flash the boy turned and sprung

into an open window, while he cried:

“ Back, or I spring out!”

“ You dare not!” shouted the man, but he
paused. .

“1 will jump out before you shall strike me,
for my life here is only torture,” responded the
youth. in a. determined tone.

As he spoke he gazed coolly down from the
dizzy hight into the yard below.

A brick pavement was below him, and to fall
upon it was to meet certain death.

A short distance away stood a large tree, and
‘ the boy looked wistfully toward its branches, as

though wishing it were possible for him to reach

1 it. but the distance seemed too great.

i It was nearly sunset, and the earth was

bathed in a golden light, while the sea was

placid as a lake. all together making up a scene

; Whlch the youth was loth to leave by taking

3 his own life.

But he was determined not to allow his step-
father to strike him, and had made up his mind
firmly to take the leap.

“ By Heaven, but I’ll take the chances,” cried
aha man, maddened by the bold attitude of the

oy.

Then, with a loud cry, he staigered back, for
the youth had quickly turned, esitated an in-
stant, and then taken the lea .

With his hands covering his ears. to shut out
the fatal crash upon the brick walk below, the
man stood an instant, his face livid, his eyes
staring.

l Then he tattered toward the window, impelled

by an impulse which he could not resist.

l Again from his lips broke a cry, and back
into his face rushed the color, for he beheld the
youth quickly climbing dewn the tree and ap-

arently unhurt, for he had made the mighty

heupl,.fcaught upon the branches, and thus saved

18 l e.

The scene once more maddened the man, and
he shouted: ,

“You shall not escape'me, you young scamp.‘1

The boy laughed, and the man hastened from
the room.

In a minute’s time he reached the outer door

‘ to behold the youth flying like a deer down to-

ward the sea-shore. ‘ ,

Calling to several servants to follow hlm, he
started in pursuit. ‘

But the runaway was nimble-(GONG. arid-fan
at a pace that quick] brought him to the little
pier, at which a sma l sail-boat had justlanded.

A youth of ei hteen sprung ashore, and was
about to make est the painter preparatory to
lowering sail, when he beheld the boy coming,
and behind him his ursuers,

“ What have you can domg now. Bob. that

 

    

 



   

  

 

the governor is chasing you as a man-of-war
would a pirate!” said the young man with
something of u sneer.

“ He accused me of stealing the money which
I saw you take. Walter, and swore that he
would make me confess.

“ Come, get out of the way, for I want that
boat.”

“Stop him, Walter. for he is a thief,” yelled
the man, out of breath.

t “ I’ll do it,” said the youth addressed as Wal-
er.

But, as he spoke he received a stunning blow
full in the face, and dropped like a log upon the
pier.

Having thus prevented his step-brother from
doing him any harm, Bob sprung into the sail-
boat, shoved off, and the wind catching the sail
sent the little craft gliding away just as the
man and several servants reached the pier.

“ Spring into that row-boat there, and With
this light wind you can easily catch him,” shout-
ed the man.

‘ ‘ You had better not, for Walter left his
fowling-piece on board, and I shall use it,”
shouted the boy, as he held up a shot-gun he
took from the sent.

This deterred the servants from obeying their

master, and in fact they loved Bob and did not 5

wish to see him fall into the hands of his cruel

step-father. _
“Cowardsl go to the fishing-hamlet up the

coast and send Sailor Sam in his smack after

yonder runaway,” ordered the man. and the ser- ‘

vantsobeyed,while their master aided his son to
rise, for he was now recovering from the stun-
ning effects of ti e blow given him by Bob.

But darkness was now falling upon the see.
and land, and out of the westrolled up huge dark
clouds that betokencd a. severe storm, so that
the fishermen relused to put out in the face of
it, though all predicted that the daring boy
runaway would be lost when it should break in
its fury upon the waters.

CHAPTER II.
THE WRECK.

MY young hero. Rlbert Hnslam, or “Bob”
as he was familiarly called. was a good sailor,
having been on the waters since his baby years
almost. and learned much in his cruises with the
hardy flsheii'len of the cnast.

.He knew that he saw well able to take care of
himself and the little craft; but. he did not like
the storm he saw so rapidly rising.

He stood straight out to sea, and felt assured
thnt the servants would not dare to follow him
in the face of the rising storm.

It was a lee gue down the coast, be well knew,
before he could find a landing on the rocky
shores, and yet he felt it he landed, he would
at once be seized by his step-father, or those un-
der his pay. so he determined to keep out to sea
and seek some port if he could.

He had risked the terrible leap from the win-
dow. and he would risk the storm.

‘_‘ I would die before he should strike me; and
it is not a hard death to be drowned,” be‘ mut-
tered, gazmg coolly into the dark depths and
then glanmng at the rising storm.

As the darkness shut him out from the land

|

 

lie lulled up, lowered his sail and close reeled

1 .

‘ Then he made all ship-shape to meet the blow,
and raising sail again began to cruise along
the coast, intending to seek some port during
the night.

Fortune seemed to favor the brave boy, for
the storm broke with less fury just where his
little craft was, than elsewhere, and though it
was threatened with destruction a score of
times, it lived through the tempest, but was
driven by it at great speed directlyout to sea.

For several hours the blow lasted, and then
the storm-clouds swept away, the moon arose
in beauty, and the ittle craft went driving

along over the rough waters before a ten-knot '

breeze, but no longer in danger of going down.

Bob knew that he was now leagues away
from the land; and felt that few would believe
he had ridden out the gale.

“Let them think me dead.

“It is better so, while I seek a new home and
new friends somewhere else.

“I will see some out—bound ship to-morrow
and take paSsage on her.” I

So the boy determined, and he held on his
course still further away from the land, as
though reckless of consequences.

All night long he held the tiller, and when
day dawned gazed wistfully over the waters for
a sail.

But not a. vessel was in sight.

He was alone in his little boat upon the we-

l

ters. .
3 It had been the habit of his step-brother to
I often cruise along the coast, shooting sea-fowl,

and upon such occasions he had always taken a.
hamper of provisions with him.

Such a hamper was now in the locker, and a

generous supply ol.’ food met Bob’s eyes, suffi-
cient to last a couple of days.

hamper.

Hardly had he spoken when his eyes fell
upon a dark object forward among the timbers.

Quickly be seized it, and critd:

"It is the stolen wallet, and Walter hid it
here, while the waters washed it out of its bid‘
ing—place. . .

‘Well, if I took it back now they would
not believe me, but sa 1 had it with me.

“I did not steal it; ut as chance has placed
it in my hands, I will use it, for the money be-
longs to my mother really, and not to that man,
for be has nothing more than she gives him.

“Yes, this is lucky, for there are one, two,
three— es, ninety pounds here, and Walter be
taken en,” he said, counting the contents of
the wallet.

money to my mother, who I know will grieve
for me deeply, believing me lost at sea.

“ I wish t ere was some vessel in sight, {or I
don’t like being at sea alone,” and again be
cast his eyes about the horizon. r

But no vessel was in si ht far or near. .

i All ’day long his litt a vessel sped on, and
once more darkness came on.

 

The sea was comparatively quiet, and. worn '. 
I out. Bob lowered his sail and laid down to rest. '

“ If I only had some money I’d be all right,” .
muttered Bob, as he ate his breakfast from the ,

“ Well, I will use it, and some day return the'

    
   
    
    
  
 
  
    
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
  
   
   
 
  
    
   
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
 
  
    

‘4 i . Pony Bob.

 

It was hours before he awoke, and the mid- 7

night hour had passed.

The waning moon had risen, and lighted up
the sea.

Glancin around him, the boy started, for
his eyes igel] upon a dark object not very far
distant.

“It is a vessel’s hull, for she has not a mast
or spar visible; but some one must be on board
of her,” and raising sail Bob stood down toward
the drifting hull. .

ln twenty minutes he was alongSide, and
clambering over the bulwarks.

The vessel was deserted, and the craft seemed
to have seen hard usage, for the masts and
bowsprit were gone, the bulwarks stove in, and
the decks swept clean. _

“ I hope all were not lost on board,” said Bob
in an awed tone, as he went toward the cabin.

A swinging-lantern burned in the cabin, and
the scene that it fell upon caused the startled
boy to quickly retrace his way to the deck.

CHAPTER III.
THE sarnoa BOY.

TEE sight that met the eyes of young Robert
Haslam was one he will never forget to his
dying day.

The vessel had evidently been caught in a
storm, so severe that crew and passengers had

 

nearly all been swept off! her decks, or deserted ‘

her in the boats.

But there yet remained half a dozen on board,
and it was upon these that the eyes of the boy
had fallen. 

Whether the had in their despair, drank to
madness and t en ended their own existence
or fan ht to the end of their own lives he could
not te l; but there, under the glimmer of the
lamp lay a. ghastly heap, blood-stained and stifl
in death.

It was a sight that drove the boy in haste
from the cabin, and, springing into his little
boat he again sailed away over the waters, pre-
ferring to be alone upon the dee , than remain
upon a wreck whereon were the ead only.

All through the night the boy thought over
the horror of the scene he had beheld; but the
sun rising brightly the shadows left his heart,
and once again he became an earnest watcher
for a sail.

, Once he spied a vessel and tried to head so as

to attract the attention of those on board; but 1
_ it Was useless, for the craft passed on itslway

without beholding the little sail-boat, and hope
almost died in the brave boy'sheart as another
ni ht came on.

is provisions were now gone, his little water-
flask empt , and he began to suffer from want
of rest, litt e food and exposure.

Another night dragged its weary length
along, and the following day broke blustering
and threatening.

But Bob kept up hope until the shadows of
another night were upon him, and the rain
casino down in torrents, drenching him to the
s in.

“ It looks as though I must die,” he said as he
shrunk down in the cockpit, hungry and shiver-

In .
ind thus he crouched through the night. his

I

boat buffeted about by the wind and waves,
until, when the dawn came he could hardly
raise his head, and was full of aches and burn-
ing with fever.

Suddenly his eyes fell upon a. sail and his
parched lips uttered a. cry.

A large clipper-ship was not far distant, and
heading right down upon him.

He tried to rise and hail her, but he had not
the strength, and sunk fainting into the cock-

pit.

But the lookout at the masthead had already
- caught sight of the little craft, and he had
shouted to the deck:

“ Sail-boat hol”

There in the ocean to behold that little boat
created an excitement on the stately ship, and it
lofted sharp and lay to, while a boat was quick-
ly lowered.

Ten minutes after, the poor boy was in a
comfortable berth in the cabin, and the kind-
hearted captain was attending to him with the
skill of a surgeon and the gentleness a mother
mi ht have shown.

t was long days before Bob rallied and be-
came himself once more. and then he found that
he was on board the clipper-ship Indian Prince,
bound out of Liverpool to China.

He did not tell the reason why he had left
, home, but simply said that he had sailed away
from the shore and had been caught in a storm
that blew him out to sea.

The captain offered to 5 ea]: some in-going
vessel they might meet, an let him return on
hertoEngland but Bob said no, and further,
requested that he might be allowed to serve as
a sailor or cabin-boy for the remainder of the
lo'afi| cruise. .

e captain granted his request, and as soon
. as he was able Bob went to work as a sailor-
l boyJ and when the vessel arrived at her desti-
. nation was a favorite with all on board the In-

dian ffrince.

\ Arrivmg in port, and liking the life of a sail-
3 or, Bob shipped on board the American barque
l George Washington, bound to Boston, to the
regret of the clipper’s captain and crew, who
hoped that he would remain with them,

But Bob.ha.d no idea of returning to England
to fall again into the clutches of his step-father,
and beSides he wished to visit the United
States.

So he bade adieu to those who had been his
friends, and sailed as cabin-boy in the Boston-
bound barque.

 

 

CHAPTER Iv. ‘
A CABIN-Boy‘s PLUCK.
‘ IT was a dark, stormy night upon the Atlan-
‘ tic and threatening clouds were looming up
humor and heavier that berokened still harder
struggles for the brave craft that was daring
the winds and waves. ,

it was the stanch barque in which young
Robert Haslam had shipped as a. cabin-boy in
far-awe China.

Brave y ovar the long leagues 0t boundless
waters the good ship he held its way, facing
the dangers of the deep, and now was Within
a. few days of the haven she sought, when she
was caught in a severe storm at nizhtfall. and

 

 

Pony Bob.

 
 

 

which increased in violence as the hours passed

on.

Throughout the long voyage Bob had made
friends with all on board, for he was ever will-
ing to lend a. helping hand, from doing extra
service in the Cook’s caboose to going aloft in
a a e.

El‘he few passengers on board also found him
most willing to serve them, and the boy had
become a favorite with all.

As the storm increased in fury, a passenger
came upon deck to gaze out upon the scene of
darkness around him upon every side.

Just then a huge wave boarded the bark,
which lurched fearfully, and the passenger was
carried ofl upon the waters.

“Man OVerboardl” shouted a voice that
pierced above the storm, and instantly the one
who ave the cry leaped overboard.

“ an overboardl" echOed a seamen, and the
cry went along the decks until a stern order
was given to ay the vessel to, and volunteers
were called for to—

“Lower away a boat to save them i”

Willing and brave hearts were in the work,
and the life—boat was soon bounding upon the
waters, searching for the one who had been
swept overboard, and he who had so pluckin
gone to his rescue.

“ Ho the life—boati”

The cry arose from the waters, and, with a
cheer, the crew of the life-boat pulled hard in
the direction from whence came the bail.

“ Whereawayi”called out the mate in charge,
unable to see anything in the darkness.

“ Here we are, but hurry up, for we can’t
hold out long.”

The words were spoken with the utmost cool-
ness, that showed the speaker was not unnerved
in spite of his danger.

“It is Sailor Boy Bob,” cried the mate.

“ Yes, it is Bob’s voice,” responded the cox-
Ewariin, and the next instant the life-boat was at

an .

“Here, take him in first, for he can’t swim,”
cried Bob, and the passenger was dragged into
the boat, and the boy instantly followed.

“Bob, I owe you my life, ’ said the passen-
gelr, as the boat started on its return to the ves-
se .

“I saw the wave take you over, sir, and hav-
ing heard you say that you could not swim, I
jumped after you,” modestly responded the

ho .
a’Well, you saved me from death, Bob, and I_

am not one to forget the favor,” was the reply
rt’ the passenger, and be grasped the hand of
the youth as the boat ran alongside of the ship
and was greeted with a cheer from the crew.

CHAPTER V.
A mam sonnow.

UPON his arrival in Boston Bob found the
passenger whose life he had saVed more than
v illing to help him and bein urged to accom-
puny him to his home in t eWest, the boy
Consented, for he felt strangely lost and lonely
after leavmg the bark. where he had lived so

I

 

long, and aboard which he had seen only
friendly faces.

The name of the passenger was Brent Hast-
ings and he told Bob that he had been called
to hina. to settle up the estate of a brother
who had died there.

He furthermore said that his home was in
lows. Where he had a large stock—farm, and ,r
that his family- consisted of a. wife and daugh-

ter.

Bob loved horses, and being told that he
should have charge of the stock, be determined
to give up the life of a sailor. at least for the
present, and see how he liked living ashore.

With this determination be accompanied Mr.
Hastings to the West.

The home of the farmer was not very far
from .the Missouri river, and the locality, at
that time was wild and desolate. while there V
was considerable danger of Indians making
raids upon the settlements.

Knowing these facts, and having been absent
for many long months, Mr. Hastings was most
anxmus about those at home, an anxiety which
had been increased by receiving no letters from
his wife and his partner in the farm, upon his
arrival in Boston.

Those were not days of rapid travel, as we
have now, and railroads did not extend across
the prairies 0! Iowa, so that the journey was a
long one. .

But Bob enjoyed it immensely liked the
camping out at night, the rides and hunts by
day, and hoped that he would soon be able to see
the Indians about whom he had read so much
in En land.

At ast the farmer and his boy protege drew
near home, and ascending aroll in the prairie,
Mr. Eastinfis said:

“ There, ob, is my home, and where you are
to live in the future. ’

He pointed as he spoke, to a cosey log cabin
nestling away in the shelter of range of low
hills, and with barns and outbuildings aboutit,
stacks of hay and cultivated fields surrounding
it, and with herds of cattle roaming the prairie,
giving the idea of a home of comfort.

The farmer gave a sigh of relief as he saw his
home still prosperous. when he had seemed to
dread that 9 would find charred ruins, and the
two rode rapidly on.

But at the gate a. man met them whose face
was strange, and he asked who and what they

were.
“I am Brent Hastingsi ltlhe 222?;th :his
ere, 0 ar-

farm, and my family dwel
mer.

“ Ah, yes! I have heard of you, and know
that you had an interest in this place: but your
partner sold out to me, and has gone.” ’

“Sold out to you!” gasped Brent Hastings.

“ Yes; had he not the right?"

“ Yes. legally, I gave him full ri hts.”

“Well that settles it, for I boug t Land paid
for the p ace.” ‘

“ But where has be gone?”

“ To Salt Lake.”

“Good God! and my family!"

“Your wife and child accom anied him.”

The poor farmer reeled in saddle, turned
livid. and muttered:

  

  

 
  

    
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
    
  
  
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
   
   
  
   
   

Pony Bob.

   

 

"Can this be true?”
“ Yes, and I have since learned that she mar-
ried him.”

“Oh, God, this is terrible! But I shall have

revenge for this.

“ Curses on you, Kit Pinkerton, for you have
made me a beggar, and stolen from me my
loved wife and little daughter. But I will yet
he avenged.”

With a face black with passion, Brent- Hust-
ings, the hog ared man and wronged husband

and father, w eeled his horse and dashed away ‘9

across the prairie.

One moment the amnzed youth gazed after ‘

him, and then he too rode swiftly away in pur-
suit of his wretched friend, and as he rode
along, Bob muttered:

“ It would have been better had he drowned I

that night of storm than live to feel such sor-
row as has fallen upon him.”

 

CHAPTER VI.
BOB HASLAM’S PLEDGE.

BRENT HASTINGS had nearly reached the
train with which he had been traveling Wf-Sl’r
ward when Bob overtook him and brought him
to a halt with a kind word of 5} mpathy.

“This is fearful, Mr. Hastings, that you have
heard, and to be robbed of wife, child and
home, by one you deemed your friend, nothing
could be worse; but hear up and I will aid you
to seek those you love, and bring that man to

' justice.”

“ Ah, Bob, you do not understand low in these
wild arts, for there is no insiice in law against
that ormon devil, Kit Pinkerton, as 1 now
know him to be.

“ I felt that he respscted that accursed
creed, but I little dreamed that he would ever
he the snake in the grass which he has proven
himself. _ _

“ That man I have befriended and aided
through life, Bob. . _

“I saved his life, gave him a home with me
and he made a little money by speculation, an
I sold him a artnership in my farm. _

“ When I eft for China, I gave all into his
keeping, and see the result.

“ It is fearful,” and the strong man shook
with emotion. _

After a pause he continued: I

“Come, Bob, we will go back to the train and
get my ambulance. .

“The things in it which I had purchasad for
those at home, I will sell to the train—people,
along with the ambulance and one of the mules,
while we will keep the other as a pack-animal,
and start further west, for I believe you will
accompany me, Bob.”

“ I will never desert you, sir, after all your 5
kindness to me; but where are you going after ‘
leaving the train it” i

“ We will go to Salt Lake, Bob,” was the
stern reply, and the boy well knew that Brent
Hastings intended to devote his life to re-
venge. .

It was not exactly the life that Bob had an-
ticipated leading in the West, but then he was
an adventurous youth. and was not the one to

i desert the man who had befriended him, and
i, who was now cast down with nlmo:t despair.

He had learned to ride from earliest boyhood,
and had been noted in England as the mmt
daring rider that ever followed the hounds
across country.

Then he was also a. good shot with rifle and
, pistol, and as strong as a young lion, while his
i pluck had been tested on too many trying oc-
i casions to cause him to fear for himself in dun-
. ger come what might.

Eiis experience thus far in western life had

been an exciting one, and lie was more than
it willing to follow Wherever Mr. Hastings woulzl
1 lead, for he was indeed, the only friend he had
: in America.
Therefore he said firmly, grasping the hand of
. the man, as they rode hack to the emigrant
train with which they had come across the
prairies from Chicago:

“I give you my pledge, sir, not to desert you,
and though a boy makes it, the pledge shall not
be broken.”

“I believe you, my boy, and God bless you,"
i was the fervent reply of Brent Hastings, who
in one short hour had had so much of sorrow
, fall upon him.
I

 

CHAPTER VII.
son’s FIRST BATTLE.

HAVING determined upon his course, Mr. Hust-
ings quickly disposed of his ambulance and the
‘ things that he did not need, and using one of
the draught animals as a pack-horse, he took
with him just such things as would be needed
in the trip into the western wilds.

The people of the train wondered at the
strange move on the part of their fellow-trav-
eler; but be offered them no explanation, and
left camp with Bob, utter a hasty farewell.

Mr. Hastings was certainly a thorough plains-
man. and had been the leader of a band of men
in his neighborhood, who had leagued together
to protect themselves from the Indians and
horse-thievss.

He knew the trails well, was a. good scout.
had trailed and fought Indians until he was
posted upon all their tricks, and could take care
of himself in desperate emergencies, as he had
often done.

 

He was well armed with a. Colt’s repeating
rifle and revolvsrs, and Bob carried a double-
barreled half rifle, half shot-gun, with a. pair of
repeaters, so that they felt they werea match
for any small party of foes they might meet.

Their horses were fine beasts, the pack—animal
was a good traveler, and their pack contained
ample ammunition, provisions, blankets, a small
tent. and cooking utensils, so that they were

‘ thoroughly prepared for a. long march.

Bob really enjo ed the situation, though he
felt deep pity for is friend, and noted his stern
face, growing sad and more determined each
dav, with a sympathy he showed in every Way
in his power. .

Crossing the Missouri, they held on their way
along the Platte, intending to continue on
until they struck the Overland trail for Salt:
Lake, for straight to that stronghold of the
Mormons did Mr. Hastings intend to E0.

t‘n

 

 

How he could rescue his wife from the power
of the villain who had won her from him, he
did not know; but he was determined to see her,
beg her to fly with him, and if she refused he
would then kidnap their child and take her at
least from the baleful influence of Mormonism,
while, at the some time he would strike at the
heart of Kit Pinkerton.

.He knew well the terrible risk he run; but
life held for him no charm then, and he was
willing to sacrifice it to get his revenge.

This much he told Bob, and the youth

promptly pledged himself to stand by him,

through all.
Together then, impressed with the dangers
of their daily trail overland, and the more dan-

gers they must face, should they reach their .

destination in safety, they plodded on their

way.

They killed ample game for their wants,
camped early and started late, so as not to push
their horses too hard, and, to while away the
time and drown thought, Mr. Hastings would
teach Bob all that he knew of prairie and wood-
craft, and the wiles of Indians, horse-thieves
and red~skins. . _

One afternoon as they were riding along, Mr.
Hastings quickly came to a halt. . '

“ What is it?” asked Bob, as he saw his friend
gazing fixedly at the ground.

“ See if you cannot find, out.” '

Bob at once set to work, and soon said:

“ Yes, it is a trail.” .

“ True; but who made it?”

“Indians.”

“ Yes; but when?”

Bob examined the ground closely, and then
answered:

“I would say that it was made only an. hour
or so ago.”

“ Right a sin; but what is to be done?”

“The trai heads due north, so we had better
lean southward 1”

“You are right, Bob, for we are too few to
meet this crowd of red-skins, and we will have
to look sharp that we don’t run upon them
somewhere, for I am Convinced that there are
more of them in the neighborhood.”

The two friends now continued on their way,
and Bob kept constantly on the alert, looking
about him upon every side.

In one of his glances b'ick over his shoulder
he started, and an exclamation broke from his
lips, which caused Mr. Hastings to quickly look
around.

“Hal there they are, and almost upon us.

“ Ride hard, Bobl” he cried, as he beheld, not

two hundred ards away, and evidently trying .

to slip upon t em unseen, halt a score_of Indian
warriors, mounted and in full war- amt.
It needed no further urging for oh, and the

three animals were urged into a run, the pack- 3

horse keeping up well. _

Seeing that they were discovered, the red-
skins uttered wild yells, and bounded on in pur-
suit.

The Indians seemed to feel confident of their
strength, and urged their horses on at full
speed; but Brent Hastings and Bob held their

Own. without driving their animals to their_

 

7

 

hardest, and the peck-horse kept up well, seem-
ingly without distress.

" We must not break our horscs down, Bob,
by holding this pace,” said Mr. Hastings,
calmly.

“ How can we help it?” answored Bob, not at
all excited by the position in which he had
found himself.

“ I will show you.

“ Do you see yonder clump of timber?”
i “ Yes, sir.”
“ We will halt there and give fight.”
“ I am willing.”
1 “Then let us push our horses to their utmost
for the mile to the timber, and that will give us
time for work.”

The animals Were accordingly ur ed more
rapidly on, and at once began to drop t 9 Indian
ponies, greatly to the chagrin of the warriors,
who yelled like demons.

At last the clump of timber was reached, and
the two whites threw themselves from the
backs of their panting steeds. *

There were hardly two score of trees there,

‘ campers; but these. already out in logs, formed
a good barrier, which Hastings and Bob lost no
time in throwing up as a hreastwork.

A sink in the ground also furnished a retreat
for the horses, which were hoppled and thrown
down upon their sides, so that they were below
the danger-line from the arrows of the Indians.

The red-skins were now charging rapidly on:
but Hastings opened with his repeating-rifle, and
afterdropping an Indian and a couple of ponies,
the others drew up quickly and fled beyond
range.

“Fill up the canteens at the spring yonder,
Bob, while I reload,” coolly said Brent Hastings,
and the youth quickly obeyed.

Seeing his intention, the red-skins again
charged, yelling like fiends: but Bob went on
to the spring, filled the canteens, and then threw
his gun to his shoulder, and quickly touched
both triggers. ‘

The first barrel sent a shower of buckshot into
the mass of red-skins, and the second hurled a
lhullgt through the brain of the chief of the

an

 

l “ Bravo. Bohl Quick, hack to shelter and use
i your revolvers, for they are mad devils nowl”
‘ yelled Mr. Hastings. .
‘ Bob sprung back to cover, dropped his gun
and the canteens, and Mr. Hastings having also
emptied his rifle, the two opened with their
revolvers. for the red-skins were now not thirty
paces distant. .
Both fired with coolness and rapidity, and

the Indians could not withstand the hot firing,

so broke and fled, leaving five of their party
dead upon the field, and six ponies. '

i‘ return; but come, let us get our trophiesSEnd
encourage the red fiends to keep on going,’ and
leading his horse out of the little fort, Mr.

. Hastings hastily reloaded his rifle and a mug V

upon him, his example being followed by ob.
“We will show them that we are not hurt,

Bob, so that they will not dare come back,” said

Mr. Hastings. and he sent a few shots after the

and some of these had been chopped down by -

“That settles them, Bob, for they will not,

  
  

   
    
   
  
  
  
   
    
  
   
  
   
   
   
    
  
   
  
   
   
 
   
  
   
  
 
  
 
    
  
   
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
   

 

8

 

flying red-skins, and then turned back to look
at the dead.

Bob had already halted by the side of a dead
red-skin, and was gazing curiously down upon
the painted face, still in death, and with a
feelin of awe, too, for it was the chief whom
he he killed, when he heard a shot, and felt a
stinging sensation in his shoulder.

Turning quickly, he beheld a red—skin near
him, and whom he had believed to be dead,
rolling in agony, while a nil of smoke was

curling from the muzzle 0 Brent Hastings’s I

n e.
“That fellow was not as dead as he looked,
Bob, and I just turned in time to see him about

to send an arrow through your back—see, the -

shaft has cut through your coat-sleeve, just
grazing the skin.”

“ It was a narrow escape, Mr. Hastings, and
he would have killed me but for you, and I
thank you, sir.”

“Nonsense, Bob, I need no thanks from

on.

.y “But scalp your game and let us camp for
the night.”

“Scalp the amei"

“Yes, for am in 9. humor to take scalps
now though I never did such a thing before in

my fife,” said the man bitterly.

‘I do not want their scalps, Mr. Hastings,
and would not mutilate the dead.”

“ I will then, Bob," was the cool reply, and
Brent Hastings tore oil? the scalp-locks in a way
that made Bob shudder, and then, securing the
traps of the red-skins, rode back to camp, where
the youth set to work to build a fire and prepare

the evening meal, pondering the while over his
first battle.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
THE DESEBTION.

FOB some days after the fight with the In-
dians, the two friends went on their way with-
out further adventure of importance, though
they constantly saw signs of Indians and were
daily and nightly in danger of meeting them.

Mr. Hastin seemed to grow daily more

’ moody, and se dom 5 aka unless when addressed
a direct question by ob.

The youth saw that the oor man was brood-
ing over his woes, and felt or him most deepl :
but there was nothing he could say that won (1
lessen his sorrows or giVe comfort, so he too, in

turn, became silent, until the silence between .

them grew painful.

One night, after a hard day’s ride, they
camped under the shelter of a hill; and Brent
Hastings said that, for their better safety, they

> would eep watch.

He (flered to take the first part of the night,
and promised to call Bob when his turn came.

Worn out as he was. the boy rolled himself
in his blankets and sunk into a deep sleep.

How lon he slept he did not know; but at
last he wo e to find that the fire had burned
low, and all was silence about him.

Convinced that it was after midni ht, when
he should he on watch, Bob arose an went in
search of his friend.

He was not at his post, and nowhere could he
find him.

Pony Bob.

 

Calling aloud, he received no answer.

Then he went to where the horses were staked
out, in a small glen not far away.

His horse and the pack-anima were there, but
Brent Hastings’s steed was missing.

“What can it mean?” muttered Bob, in
alarm.

1 Again he searched, and searching, won-

dered.

But neither search nor wonder would find the
missing man.

In dismay
‘ able to stand
‘ his own life.

But then, why should he ride oil' to do so?

Returning to the fire, he threw on an armful
of brush and sat down to think.

As the fire blazed up, Bob beheld a stick stuck
in the ground near by, and having fastened to
it a slip of paper. .

This would solve the mystery of his friend’s
disappearance he was assured, and quickly be
seized it and read as follows:

“ My DEAR YOUNG Pmnz— v

“ I have felt that I had no right to drag you along
with my unhappy destinies. and perhaps_get ou
killedin some ht with Indians, or 653.8. mg t at,
to see an die y torture among the ormons,
should t ey discover my intentions.

“ So, Bob, I have determined to desert you, and go
on my way alone.

“Due south from our camp, three miles about. I
observed camp-fires to-night, and going there, I dis-
covered a large train of emigrants encamped.

"They are goin to Denver, doubtless, and you
all?“ accompany t em, and then decide as to your

ure.

“ I leave you the pack~horse. and take only such

provisions and things as I actually need.

“ I also leave you, my be , a hundred dollars, one
fifth of all I have, and wi h it you have my every
wish for your success and happiness in life.

“ Now, Bob, I bid you farewell, with the Eggs that
I may be successful, and in that case I 1 look
I you up, so send your address wherever on are, to

hrflpoitfimster at Iowa City, Iowa, and mm him I
w; e .

“ you do not hear from me, you will know that
lhave lost mylife, and that in that case I will no
longer sufier.

“Seek the train at once, Bob, and, again let me
say, may every success attend you.

“ Your unhappy friend,
“er HASTINGS."

Such was the letter that Bob received, and he
read it over and over again with deep emotion,
until his feelings almost overcame him.

I The money was pinned to the paper, and
there was, he found, upon looking over the pack-
saddle, very little that Hastings had taken
with him.

“Poor man, he has done this for me; but I

‘ am got afraid to take all the chances he was to
was .

“He is the only friend I have in America,
and I will not be thrown 03 this way, if he does
not for my good.

“ Let me see what time it is—ahl dawn is
just breaking, and I know that the camp-fires
of the train which I can see yonder, were not
there when went to bed.

“ That was about eight o’clock, and Mr.
Hastings discovered them when the train halted
and went into camp, which I will say was
about nine.

‘ \

Bob feared that he had been un-
his sorrows, and had put an end to

 

 
    
  

Pony Bob.

 

“ Then he went there and back, and it must
have taken him two hours, so that I will call it
twelve when he left, and it is about four now.

“ Come, horses, we will follow the trail of the
only friend we have, and not allow him to
shake us this way, for fear we may be hurt."

So saying Bob heartily ate some breakfast
watered his horses, and saddling up, mounted
and rode out of camp, easily following the trail
of Brent Hastings’s horse, for his boots had
brushed the dew from the grass.

Believing that Bob would do as he had urged,
it seemed that Hastings had made no effort to
cover up his trail, and bringing his new learn-
ing in prairie-craft to his aid, the youth fol-
lowed rapidly on, his face brightening with the
prospect of success and again meeting the man
to w om he had become deeply attached in the
time that they had been together.

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE YOUNG TRAILER.

BOB pushed on at as rapid a pace as he cared
to force his horses, but soon found that the
trail did not freshen, and this convinced him
that Mr. Hastings was going on at a. good gait.

He knew that he was superbl mounted, and
that he would have some diflicu by in coming up
with him before nightfall.

Should night come on, and the man be yet not
in sight, Bob doubted almost his ability to over-
take him; so he urged his horses stil harder,
after an hour's halt at noon for rest and food,
which he knew the animals must have.

Over the prairie, here and there broken with
woodland, and at the same swinging pace, Bob
held on his way, his eyes fixad on the horizon
ahead, hoping to see it broken by the sight of a
horse and rider.

At length, just as the shadows began to
lengthen, with the declining of the sun, Bob
came quickly to a -halt, his eyes narrowly
searching the ground beneath his feet.

What attracted his attention was another
trail than that which he had been following.

It was the trail of two horsemen, and com-
ing northward, turned abruptly into that left
by the horse of Brent Hastings.

Bob had learned enough of signs on the bor-
der to see that Indian ponies had not left the
tracks beneath his feet, for the hoofs were shod
—a sure indication that the horses were ridden
by white men, or, if by red-skins, they had
been stolen by them.

. Bob hoped that they were white men, believ-
ing in that case they would prove to be friends.

0 on the trail he went, and just at sunset he
came in sight of those he followed.

He would have ridden boldly on, had not the
actions of the two men appeared strange; and
having learned to be cautious, he quickly drew
back over the roll of the prairie, dismounted,
and peered cautiously at them. I

They had dismounted, and were lying down,
watching something visible over a rise of land.

Bob saw there a clump of timber, but could
no: see the round at the base of the trees.

The men, owever, evidently could see right
mm the timber. and were “retellan with en-

 

l

 

(tient interest something that was going on
here.

They certainly could tell by the trail they had
followed that there was only one person before
them, and why all this caution, when they
were two, the boy wondered.

Then a column of smoke curled up from the
trees, showing that whoever Was there was
building a fire, and had doubtless gone into
camp for the night.

It was now rowin dark, and Bob saw the
two men unsafidle an stake their horses out as
though they intended to remain where they

were. ,1

Then the looked to their weapons, and just
as it grew ark went slowly over the rise.

Instantly Bob remounted his horse and rode
on toward the timber. ,

He avoided the staked-out horses of the men,
and approached the glimmering fire from a dif-
ferent direction from that in which the men
were coming.

Dismounting, be staked his horses out, and, in
a bending posture ran quickly toward the
clump of trees.

He gained the edge unseen, and behold asmall
fire, with a. man seated b it eating his supper.

That man was Brent astings.

In the trees stood his horse, saddled, and feed-
ing, which showed that the halt of the rider
was not for the night, but only for a rest of one
hour or so.

But where were the two men he had seen?
Geartainly they had had time to reach the
spo . 1
Bob was about to go on and join his friend,
when he caught sight of two dark forms out
upon the prairie.

They were not sixt paces distant, moving
slowly toward the tim er, at a point near where
he stood, and it was evidently their intentionto
remain unobserved.

Determined to see what their little game was,
Bob shrunk back in the bushes. and ust then
tigehtwo men came up and halted within ten feet
0 irn.

“There he is, Sam, so who shall pull on him,
you or me?" said one.

“ Oh, I’ll do it, for I guess it’ll pay if we only
gits his weepins."

“ Waal, let drive, an’ we’ll soon see what
he hev got about his clothes,” said the other.

Then the man, who had volunteered to pla
the part of a cowardly assassin, raised his rfi
to his shoulder.

Another instant and the life of Brent Hast-
ings would then and there be ended; but a
flame shot out of the bushes. a crack of a revol-
ver followed, and the intended assassin dropped
dead in his tracks.

Then, before his frightened comrade could
move even, he felt the pressure of cold iron
against his forehead, and a voice cried hoarsely:
“Move and you are a dead maul”

“Navy move then. pard, for I is struck on
living,” was the quick response.

All this had taken but a second in transpir-
ing, and seeing that he had bagged his game
Bob shouted: _

“ HO. Mrv Hastings. come this way!"

  

 

 
   
 

10 Pony Bob.

Brent Hastings h'ad sprung to his feet at the
shot and darted to the side of his horse, out of
the glare of the fli'e~light.

But, ere he had time to mount he heard the
call, and cried eagerly:

“ Bob Haslam's voice among a. thousand 1”

“Yes, I am Bob, and I want you,” called out
the boy. and throwing himself into his saddle,
Brent Hastings gulloped to the spot where Bob
stood, his revolver-muzzle still pressed hard
against the head of his prisoner.

“ Well,
cried the man, dismounting quickly and ad-
vancing toward the youth.

“Yes, sir, for I was determined that you

should not desert me in that style, and followed

you, and it is well that I did, for that man lying i

there was about to kill you. and this one is his
pard, so we have them both.”

Brent Hastings glanced at the dead man,
andl then turned upon the other, while he
sai :

“The best way to save trouble will he to kill

' you too.”

“ Pard, don’t kill me, for I hain’t guilty, and
I have lost my comrade.

“ Jist let me go, and I’ll git like a skeert jack-
rabbit.

“Jist try me,” whined the man.

“ Give me your weapons and go then 1”

The man promptly obeyed and started to
move ofl toward where they had left their
horses.

“Hold on, sir, for I claim your horses, and
will bring them into camp.

“ Take that trail,” said Bob, and he pointed in
an opposite direction.

The man uttered a curse but obeyed, and then
Bob called out:

gflere, come back and bury your com-
ra e. ,
fyour knife, and a revolver to pro-
tect yoursel .’

The man returned to the spot and muttered:

“ You hain’t so bad as you look, leetle pard."

Bob made no reply, but walked away toward
his own home, tossing the knife and revolver
upon the grouri as‘he left.

Brent Hastings followed him, and the two
then rode to where the two animals were
lariated, and taking posssssion of them held on
their way for a few miles, when they came to a
secure camping-place for the night.

“So you would not let me go alone, pard
Bob?" said Brent Hastings as the two sat
around their little camp-fire.

“No,,i;ndeed, for! pledged myself to stand

on.
“ Well, I’m glad you came on after me, Bob.

for I was awful lonesome without you; but

then I did not think it right to yoke your young

life to mine, so gave you the slip.

But we’ll hang together, Bob, for good or

en .

“ Good—night,” and rolling himself in his

blanket, Brent Hastings sought the rest he so

much needed, and Bob quickly followed his ex- ‘

ample.

~—

Bob, my boy, we do meet again,” ,

CHAPTER X.
'r H E c A P '1' U R E .

UNDER even extraordinary circumstances,
Brent Hastings would never have taken the
chances of going across the plains as he did with
only a comparative boy for a companion, when
even large trains were in danger of capture
either by the Indians or hands of Danites.

But, with the sorrow weighing upon his soul
he was almost desperate, and wished to shun
womankind.

For this reason he would not join any of the
westward-bound Government or emigrant
I trains, and took the chances to reach his destin-
ation.

Bob hardly knew how desperate were those
chances; but he was not one to back out under
any circumstances, and really enjoyed the life
of danger and hardship they led.

With the two extra horses, taken from the
robbing murderers, they were enabled to rest
their animals, and in this way, riding one and
then the other horse, and also transferring the
pack, they made quite rapid time, while Bob
ingeniously manufactured dummy riders for
the backs of the horses not ridden, which gave
the appearance of five horsemen instead of two,
and thus kept at bay several small hands of red-
skins who were not willing to take risks against
so many hunters, as they believed.

Following the South Platte, they arrived,
after weeks of travel, on the Colorado river, and
went into cam one night in a canyon not far
from the mout of the Green.

Hastings knew well the danger he was in, but
determined to press right on. claim to be a con-
vert to Mormonism, pass Bob ofl as his son, and
thus reach Salt Lake City.

A Mormon fort was not very far from his
camp, but this he wished to avoid, being anxious
to reach the town without attracting any more
attention than was absolutely necessary.

He explained to Bob just who and what the
Mormons were, and that there was a war threat-I
ening between them and Government troops,
and expressed the hope that they would be ut-
tew wiped out from the face of the earth.

hile seated in the Secluded can on, not
dreaming of any immediate danger, t ey were
suddenly covered by a score of rifles, and stern
and threatening came the words:

" Throw up your hands, or die!”

Both Hastings and Bob sprung ‘to their feet,
their hands upon their revolvers; but they saw
at a glance that they were two to twenty, and
were under the aim of rifles that would riddle
them if they resisted.

“Up with your hands!” again came the stern
command

“Bob, we are done for, obey!" calmly said
E: sélugs, and up went their hands abovo their

ea 3.

_Then two men stepped forward, and instantly
disarmed them.

V The men were dressed in black, wore masks,
and were heavily armed with rifles, revolvers
and knives. .

“Who are you?” demanded Brent Hastings.

 

“ That question is for us to ask you," was the
response. \

  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
    
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
    
  
 
    
   
    
  
 
    

l

"I am a convert to Mormonism, and this is ‘
my son. “

‘ We were going to Salt Lake to live there.” i

“Ah! many have told the same story to save 1
their lives; but we will soon know it you tell =
the truth. '

“ Where are the rest of your party?”
“ We are alone.”

6‘ I”

“1 tell you the truth; we came alone from ‘
Iowa.”

“ You certainly had a guide?”

“ No, I am a pluinsman, and followed the
trails and the rivers.”

“ And you wish to become Mormons?” l

H Yes-17

"You are not United States Government
spies?"

u No.”

“ Have you any family?”

“Not now, other than this bay.”

“ We are of the Mormon cre .”

“ So i sus ected.”

“ We are anites.”

H I”

“Yes, and it will fall to our lot to punish you
if you deceive us.”

“ So be it.”

“ You do not know what Danite torture is?”

“ l have heard stories of Danite torture.”

“Did you ever hear of the Destroying An-
gels?”

u Yes.”

“ What have you heard of them?”

“ That they were a band of Danites who
hunted down all foes to the Mormons who dwelt
in these parts.”

“ Yes, we do, for we are Destroying Angels,
and our fort is near here.

“ I will carry you to Red Rockwell, our chief,
find it will rest with him what is to be your

ate.

“ Come!”

Without a word Hastings and Bob followod
their captors, who allowed them to mount their
horses, and, after a ride of a few miles through
the darkness, they came upon a small fort, built
of rocks and logs.

Through a stockade gate they were taken, and
a moment after were bound Securely and thrust
into a log but, cold and cheerless.

CHAPTER XI.
DESPAIR AND HOPE.

IT was late the following morning when the
door of the cabin was opened, and the two pris-
oners were led out.

They found themselves in a small, but strong
fort, right in the hills, and with perhaps two-
score of occupants.

They were taken to a large cabin standing in
one corner of the fort, and told that the chief of
the band would see them soon.

He saw them then, for he was eating his ‘
breakfast in the cabin as the approached.

But he took his time, an then lazily came .
out and agproached the prisoners. ‘

Unlike is men, he was unmasked, and was
the only man in the band that the captives
could see the face of.

He was a young man, with cold, blue eyes. a ,

 

 

Pony Bob.

7 ' ‘ '. \s“\'

firm mouth, wore no beard, and would have
been handsome but fora look of cruelty that
seemed to rest ugon every feature. "

He was dresse in black, wore a pair of re-
volvers and a bowie-knife in his belt, and about
his black slouch hat was a cord of gold, with a

pin of the same metal looping up one side. and "

re resenting an angel with a flaming sword.

‘You were captured in my territory last
night?” he said in a voice that was strangely
soft and pleasant.

“ We were captured in United States territory}

last night by a band of men calling themselves
Destroying Angels,” answered Hastings.

“ Yes; they were my men, and they cap-
ture all who invade the sacred land of the Mur-
mon Prophet.

“ What were you doing here?”

“ I was going to Salt Lake City.”

“ For what pur ose?”

“ To ally mysel with the Mormons.”

, “ You tell this lie to save your life?”

“It is no lie, for I was goin to Salt Lake,
intending to become a. Mormon. ’

“ And this boy?”

“ Is in son.”

“ We , we will see if you can stand the
test.

“ Do you know any one in Salt Lake?”

“ I have met a number of Mormons, but none
that I particularly remember.” »

“ Ahl perhaps then you remember this letter.
for it was found among the boy’s traps, and
some two of the horses that you have with you
belonged to two of in men.

“ How did you get he animals?” I

Both Hastings and Bob saw that'tbey were
cornered, for the letter was the one which had
been written that night in camp, and it told
that the destination of the writer was indeed
Salt Lake: but then it showed that some deep
personal motive carried him there.

“This letter tells enough to condemn you,
my man, and now I wish to know how'you got
those two horses?”

“ I followed on the trail of m friend, found
an assassin about to kill him, an shot 1m.

“His comrade I made prisoner, but turned
loose, while I kept their horses, and that is all
there is about it ” spoke up Bob.

“ Well. there is enough about it, and about
the secret intention of this man, in going to
Salt Lake to cost you both your lives.

“ Guar . put these prisoners back in the

cabin until I decide what I shall do with them." ,

and the young chief of the Destroying An els
turned on his heel, while Hastings and ob
were again led back to their rison.

“Ah, Bob my poor boy, have led you to
your death, fear,” groaned Brent Hastings.

“If you have to die, it will be no more for
me than you, and I’ll go under game," was
Bob’s plucky response.

“ Yes, Bob, but we lose life, and those I loved 2

so are utterly lost, in the power of these Mor-
mon devils.

“ Alas! I have no hope now, not even of re- 

venge."
Bob saw that with despair Mr. Hastings
would go all to pieces, so_to speak, while, with

the hope 01 rescuing his We and deuchter. and,
‘ l

 

 

 

 

l.
i.‘
n
v

 

12 Pony Bob.

 

getting revenge, 'he would keep-up strength

and courage, so to cheer him he said:

‘f Say, Mr. Hastings, did you notice that this
prison isn’t as strong as the ondon Tower?"

“ It is strong enough to hold us, Bob.”

“I don’t believe it, for you just look up at the
roof there.”

“ Well?”

“The logs, you see, are just laid on, and
weather-boarding nailed over the logs."

is Yes.”

“Well, I believe that we can pry up one end
and get out.”

“ Impossible, Bob.”

“ Not if we can break one of those trunk-
slats oil? and use it as a lever.

“ I shall try to-night at any rate.”

Brent Hastings shook his head doubtingly;
but Bob had set his mind upon escaping, and
at once became lost in deep thought.

After a long silence he said in a whisper:

“ I tell you, Mr. Hastings, I have got an
idea.”

“Well, Bob?”

“Wait and see,” was the quiet response of
the youth.

 

CHAPTER XII.
Bon‘s PLOT.

THERE was one thing certain in the minds of I
the two prisoners. and that was that Red Roek- !

well, the chief of the band of Destroying An-
gels, had no idea of releasing them.
The Danites showed no mercy to suspected

foes in those days. and the presence of the man ‘

and boy in that locality alone, the story which
Brent Hastings had told, Lnd then the finding
of the letter. which plainly contradicted that
story, was proof enough against them that
they were bent on some secret expedition in
gomg into Utah. .

Feeling assured that they would be punished.
and doubtless put to death by torture, it de-
volved upon the two to concoct some scheme
for escaping.

Bob’s brain was busy all the time, and he
thought of a hundred plots, and rejected them
as useless.

But as night came on, his face suddenly
brightened up as he was peeping through a cre-
vice in the logs, and he whispered:

“ The night guard has been placed, and he is
armed to the teeth.

“ Now to work I”

“But how, Bob?” asked Hastin 5.

“You lie down on the floor an groan, and I.
will call that man to your aid.”

“ And then?”

“ Wait an’ see,” was the laconic response; and

convinced that the boy had some good plot,

Hastings said:

" 1’11 do as you say, Bob, and I guess you will
pull us through.”
I “ If this fails, we’ll have to prize up that end
of the roof.”

glint now tip over and play that you have
a t.

Hastings promptly obeyed, falling heavily,
and groaning and struggling terribly.

gob gave a. cry or alarm, and then called
011 3

I wall. and selection: their Own.

“Guard! guard! is there a guard out there?”

“ What do you want?” came in sullen tones
from without.

1 “My pard has fallen in a fit! Quick! help
him 1”
The door was slowly unlocked and swung
open, and a man stepped into the cabin.
He was masked, and heavily armed.
. “I guess he’ll be in luck if he dies,” said the
, fellow, with a rude laugh, and he looked down
on Hastings in his struggles, while he added:
) “I can’t leave post to call anybody, so let
him kick it through the best way he can.”
With this unfeeling remark he turned to-
, ward the door, when there came a whirring
i sound, a blow, and the man dropped senseless to
i the floor, felled by a board in the hand of Bob
Easlam.

Quick as a flash Hastings was on his feet, saye
ing %uickly:

“ ou did that well, Bob; but is be dead?”

“ I guess not; but we’ll tie him and gag
him.”

“ Yes; and get out of this at once.”

, The man was quickly stripped of his clothing,
! mask and arms, and as he was of large stature,
i Brent Hastings put on his clothes, and then the
two left the cabin.

“Another guard will not go on duty before
midnight, and it will give us a good start.”

. “But now for the fellow at the ate. and l
i hope he’s small, so that his clothes Ml! fit me,”
said Bob.

The two fugitives now started toward the
gate, and walked boldly up to it, for they knew
that the guard stood on the outer side.

Halting within. Bob waited, while Hastings,
in his dress of a Danite stepped outside.

Listening, Bob heard a word or two pass, and
! then a dull thud, and Hastings stepped back,
saying in a whisper:

“I hit him over the head with my revolver,
and it stunned him.

“But see, Bob, he is a little fellow.”
I “Then his rig will just suit me.” and B! b
a lost no time in putting on the guard’s clothes
i and mask, at the same time appropriating his

 

 

arms, after tying and. gagging the fallen man
securely.
“ We must have horses, Bob.”
“ Yes, our own.”
“But how to get them is the question?”
“ They are in the stockade-pen at the back of
the fort.” ‘ ' i
it Yes. 5’
“ There seems no way to get into it, except
through the fort.”
, “ We must see it there is.”
‘ Hastings boldly led the Way back across the
fort toward the Stockade, where the homes of
the band were put at night.

It adjoined the fort in the rear, and was sev-
eral acres in size, while being in a. vale, it was
commanded from the works.

A gate led into the stockade corral, and
through this the man and boy passed, seeing no
one on the way, but hearing the voices of the
men singing and talkin in the cabins.

Saddles and bridles ung alon the stockade
tints and

I

.‘>.x'r

Bob entered the corral and began the search for
their horses.

Those were soon discovered and while Hast-
lngs‘ saddled them, Bob went round the stockade
wall to find an opening.

In one corner, where a trail led to the flats
and valleys below, he found a narrow gate,
which would not have been detected from the
outside, but was discernible from within by the
bars and chains that held it fast.

Hustening back to his companion Bob made
known his discovery, and, after considerable
difficulty the gate was opened.

“Now, Bob, let us put rapid pursuit out of
the question,” said Hastings.

“ How can we!”

“ By taking with us all the horses.”

“ Good 1” and Bob collected the different
horses, staked out, and Hastings led them
through the gate and tied them together out-
side.

There were some sixty animals. and it was no
easy work to lead them quietly down the
trail.

But it was accomplished at last, and by mid-
night the fugitivos were many miles upon their
way.

Arriving at a suitable place, they turned the
horses loose, driving them in diflerent directions
in twos, threes and fours, until Bob said:

“It will be a smart man that tells which
horses carried us on their backs, Mr. Hast-

“ Yes, Bob, it will indeed; but now let us
push on. for we have along road ahead of us.”

“ To Salt Lake?”

“Yes, to Salt Lake, Bob,” was the quiet re-
sponse.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
, manna.

SALT LAKE Crrr was in a ferment, for a war
was hrewing between the Mormons and the
United States troops.

The Danites. under unscrupulous leaders, had
committed acts which the United States Gov-
ernment could not ovarlook, and the Mormon
Prophet met all demands with defiance

Emigrant trains had been attacked, settlers
had been driven off from their homes, and even
armed Government trains were not safe.

The Destroying Angels were a band whom
all feared, and they were running riot in crimes
of all kinds, until a climax had been reached
which must precipitate a war.

Under such circumstances it was certainly a

. desperate undertaking on the part of Hastings
and his boy pard to attempt to enter the city
of the Mormons.

But Hastings was desperate and Bob was
daring enough to follow his lea .

Soto Salt Lake they went.

Dressed in the we l-known garb of the De-
stroying Angels they passfid parties of Mormon
troops, simply statin that they belonged to Red
Rockwell’s band, an were carrying dispatches
to the Mormon chief.

By so stating they passed the outposts, and at
last, worn out with hard riding, they found
themselves at their destination.

Pony Bob.

 

13

 

Once before Hastings had been in the town,
for a few days, when returning from Cali-
fornia, and he knew something of the locality,
so started to find a small inn where he had put
up at his former visit.

The place was found, the horses were stabled,
and the two friends Were shown to a room.

“Now. Bob, we must seek some other dis-
guise and pass as Mormons, for the Angels will
not be long in making known the trick we
played them and we will be hunted for."

“ I am ready to do any thing you think best,
sir.” answered Bob.

" Well, we must go out as soon as we get din-
ner and look up some place where we can buy
some clothing and play Mormon farmers.

“ Then we must find a quiet place to put up,
and leaving here to-night, change our clothes
and go to our new quarters, where we can then
search for those I came here to save.”

“ I am with you,” pluckily said Bob, and the
friends then went down to dinner.

After a hearty meal, which they sadly
needed, they went out into the town and soon
found a shop where they could purchase just
what clothes they needed.

They also found here a. false heard and wig of
red hair. and. considering themselves in luck,
returned to their inn.

As soon as it was dark they rode OE, and
seeking a secluded spot, they changed their
clothes to those they had bought, and removing ,
their masks, Bob put on the wig of red hair,
:hilg Hastings disguised his face under the false '

ear .

Having ascertained where there was a wo-
man who took a boarder or two and had ac-
commodations for horses, they went there, and
Were fortunate enoggh to secures good room
and stable accomm ations. -

Then Hastings went out alone and Bob retired

to rest, for he was greatly fatigued after all that
he had gone through.

It was midnight when Hastings entered the
room and threw himsslf into achair, tearing of
his heard as though for air.

His coming awoke Bob at once,who sprung to “ " ‘

his side, and said, quickly:
" What has happened, for you are as white as
death f” i
“ They are here i” gasped the man.
:: ligh’o, the Destroying Angels?”
0

“ Who, then?” -
“My wife and child I” -‘
H An I!)

It was all that Bob could say.

After a moment Hastings continued: '

“ After leaving here I went up to the inn and
I there saw, face to face, the man whom I have
sworn to kill.”

“ Pinkerton?”

“Yes, Kit Pinkerton.”

“ I hope you did not—” ,,

“ Oh, no, I did nothing rash, though I was
tem ted to then and there kill him! ' /

“ at I knew well that it would thwart all,
so I resisted the temptation.”

“ I am glad of that.” .

“ Yes. Bob. and so am I: but having tracked

 

“r

 

 

 

 

mates .wa...“ . W- _.._v..,~.,~--.... o.,,........,~.. as

1 4 Pony

Bob-

 

l
him here, it rested with me to track them, my
poor wife and child.

“ Pinkerton, I found, was a man high in
authority here, and had been a Mormon for

ears.

“ I waited around and found that Red Rock-
well himself had arrived, and was searching for

us.
“To shield himself, he did not tell how we
had escaped, and how well your plot had

r worked; nor did he mention the clever trick we

played on him.

‘ But he came in on the large white horse I
wanted to take, so the animal must have gone
back to the fort, or been found by him.

“ He made no fuss about it, but simply said
that two prisoners, at man and a boy, had
elslcaped from his fort, and he was searching for
t em.

“I heard all he said, and I do not think he
suspects us of coming here. ,
" But he offered a handsome reward for our
capture, and then went u to headquarters to
see the Prophet, while followed Pinkerton

home. '

“ He lives not very far from here, and, when
he had entered his home, I crept up to the
window and looked in.” g

“ And you saw—”

“My wife and child, Bob, and I have tracked
them to the lair of that devil Pinkerton.

“Now I must plot to save them and you
must help me.”

“Here is my hand on it,” frankly said the
youth, and Brent Hastings knew that he had
one true friend in the boy, upon whom he
could wholly rely, and hope came to his breast ,
that his daring invasion of the Mormon strong- 1
hold would bring back joy to his heart.

CHAPTER XIV.
ran monmox’s PLOT.

THE undertakin which Hastings had, with
the aid of Bob aslam, decided upon accom- .‘
plishing, was, as the reader can see, a, most
desperate one.

To rescue a wife and child, who had gone to
Salt Lake City with a Mormon, even against
their will, was certainly a gigantic task to per-
form; but presumably, Mrs. Hastings had ac-
companied the villain from her own free will,
invelgled into doing so by honeyed words.

Would she, having left her husband, he will-
ing to return to him?

Would she not, having gone with Pinkerton
as she did, still cling to him, and give her hus-
band up to punishment, should he betray his
presence to her?

Hastings thought not. He explained to Bob
what a noble woman his wife had ever been.
and felt assured that some dire influence had
been brought to bear upon her to lead her away i
from him.

“ Let me see her face to face. let me tell her ,
of the enormity of her act, and gladly she will
go back with me. if only to a log cabin to begin
life anew,” he said.

Bob was heart and soul with him in the good
cause. and the following night aocompmied

 

 

_ Hastings on his visit to Pinkerton’s house.

btaininfl a position. from whence they

could see into the highly-lighted rooms, Has-
tings said eagerly:

“ Look. Bobl there they are!”

Bob beheld a woman seated at a table sewing.

Her face still was beautiful, but upon it rest-
ed a Eek of deep sadness.

She was well dressed, and, as she sat at her
work, her thoughts seemed far away.

At the table also sat a child, and she was
engaged in dressing 8. pretty wax doll she held
in her hands.

She was a child of thirteen, and very like her
mother. possessing the same large dreamy eyes,

‘ and refined features.

Bob was then nearly eighteen years of age,
and he could readily appreciate how the poor
father could feel to have those dear ones torn
from him by one he had loved and trusted, and
he did not wonder that Hastings sought re-

- venge.

“ I must save them, Bob, and when they are
far from here, I will leave you to look after
their safety. while I return to kill that man,”
hoarsely said Hastings.

“ Let us first look to their safety.”

“ But how will you make known your pres-
ence to them i”

“ I dare not show myself at once, for it would
frighten them fearfully and perhaps ruin all.”

“ Let me go and knock at the door, and—”

"Yes, Bob, I leave all to you, so go, and
when I am wanted simply beckon to me and I
will see you and come.

“ But break the news gently that I am
here.”

“ Leave that to me,” aswered Bob, and he
boldly marched up to the door and knocked,
leaving Hastings crouctflng in the yard.

The ittle girl sprun to the door, with child-
ish curiosity and opene it.

In stepped Bob, and bowing with courtly
grace he said:

“M’ay I ask u this is the home of Colonel
Pinkerton?”

“ It is, sir,” and thelady bowed.

“ He is not at home then, madame?”

" No, nor do I expect him for several hours.”

“I am glad of that, for 1 come really to see
you. madam."

“ To see me, sir?” and the lady looked at Bob
with intense surprise.

“Yes. madam, if you are Mrs. Hastings, I
have come to see you

The woman started at the name, her face
Balgd, and the little girl gazed searchineg at

o .

“ I was Mrs. Hastings, sir,” she said hoarsely.

“ And are not now i”

“ I am now Mrs. Pinkerton, sir.”

“But your husband, Mr. Hastings, what of
him. ma I ask?”

“He is dead, sir,” and the eyes filled with
tears. while the little girl said:

_“ Yes, my papa Hastings is dead, and Colonel
Pinkerton is my apa now.”

“There must e some mistake, madam, for
I know Mr. Brent Hastings well.” '

“No, he was lost at Sea. just eleven months
ago, the vessel in which he sailed for China
goin down in a storm with all on board.”

“ d you believe this. madam!”

 

 

“Of course. sir, for I saw the notice of the
vessel’s loss, and my husband’s name was pub-
lished among the list of those who were
drowned.”

“The vessel did not sink. Mrs. Hastings, nor
is your husband dead,” said Bob calmly.

he woman uttered a cry, and springing to-
ward him grasped his hands, while she said
eagerly:

“ Do you know this?”

(L I do.”

“Ahl God forgive me, what have-I done?”

“You have simply married again, believing
your husband dead Mrs. Hastings.”

“Heaven knowsl believed him dead, and, so
believing, I consented to become the wife of
one whom be trusted, and who had been as a
brother to me.

“He brought us here, and now I find out,
alas! that he is a Mormon, and deceived me.

“Idid not love him, for poor Brent had all 3
my love, but he told me all we had my husband 3
had mortgaged to him, and that he would be a.
kind father to my darling child here, poor little

va.

“ But he has deceived us, and now I find that
I have been doubl deceived, and that my
husband is not den , while we are as prisoners
here in this hated Mormon land,” and Mrs.
Hastings sunk down in her chair and wept
convulsively.

“You have been cruelly deceived, dear lady,
and by a villain,” said Bob soothiugly.

“In the first place he had that notice 01' the
vessel’s loss printed for your especial eyes, and
kept from you letters which your husband had
written you.

“ Again, he told you a. falsehood when he
said he held a mortgage on your husband 3

roperty and urged vou to marry him, to
bring you here to Salt Lake, where he has other
Wives.

“But, Mrs. Hastings, your husband returned
in safety to his home, and I accompanied him,
to learn all that had happened.

“Then we tracked you here, and have come
to save you and Eva.” . \

“Thank Godl thank God! But where is my
husband, and will he forgive me!” _

“ He is here,” and Bob stepped to the Window
and rapped on the pane. _

In an instant Brent Hastings was in the
room and his wife and child were in his arms.

But at that moment of joy to the stricken
ones heavy steps were heard, and in stalked
Kit Pinkerton and a comrade upon the scene.

 

CHAPTER XV.
THE RIGHT AND FLIGHT.
To say that Bob was surprised at the coming

whom he had every reason to fear, he quicklv
set all doubt aside by drawing a revolver and
firing upon Brent Hastings, while he was still
locked in the embrace of his wife.

As quick as aflasli Bob fired upon the Mor-

 

into the room of the two men would be to draw
it mildly, for he was astounded.

But the youth was not one to lose his presence 1
of mind, and he was ready for work the moment i

he heard Eva’s warning cry:
“It is Colonel Pinkerton!”
Had there been any doubt as to what were

the intentions of the man so unexpectedly,

mon to save his comrade's life. Pinkerton gave
a cry, staggered backward, and fell heavily to
the floor, while his companion, in alarm, fired

‘ several shots at random and bounded out of the

door.

“Quick, Brent for my sake fly and save your
life!” cried Mrs. Hastings earnestly.

“Come with mel”

“ No—no, that cannot be now, for we would
be at once taken.

“Fly with this brave youth, join the Amer-
ican army that is marching here, and soon I
will be with you.”

“But they will harm you, and—”

“ No, they will do me no harm; but it you re-
main all of us will die.

“Go, Brent, and come with the army, which

‘ certainly will con uer the Mormons."

“ [ will go, my ear wife, for I feel that then
I can aid you, while to remain now would but
destroy us all.

“ Come, Bob!”

A hasty farewell, a glance at the form of his
foe lying upon the floor, and Brent Hastings
prung away, followed by Bob.

In haste they ran to their abiding- lace, sad-
dled their horses, and putting their isguise as
Danites on in the stable, mounted and rode rap-
idly toward the outskirts of the town, passing
on their way a partly of men hastening in the
direction 0 00 one Piukerton’s house, and led
by the very man who had fled to save his

life.

“God grant. Bob, that they do not harm my
wife and child 1"

“They will not do that, for Mrs. Hastings
will tell some plausible story, you may be cer-
tain, sir. But what is the matter?"

“ I feel strangely weak, and to tell the truth
Bob, I was wounded by Pinkerton’s shot. and '
have been bleeding ever since but would not
speak of it. See—I reel in my saddle.”

“Let us see if we cannot check the flow of
blood,” and B 'b drew rein.

But Brent Hastings would not hear of halting
then, and they held on their way.

They passed the guards without difliculty, for
they were taken for two of the band of Destroy-
ing Angels.

“ Which way now?” asked Bob, and be little
knew how important to him the question would
be afterward.

“ I will tell you, Bob, which way,” slowly an-
swered Hastings.

“ My wife said truly that the American
army must take Salt Lake, and it will. Now
listen to me, and I will tell you just how to find
the army under Johnson.”

Then in a low tone Brent Hastings told Bob
where to look for the United States forces
marching toward Salt Lake City, and he was so
explicit that the youth said:

“Why do you explain all tome, when you
will go with me?"

Hastings answered calmly:

 

returning to his home and finding one there

“ Bob, something tells me that I will not go

 

  

’16

    

Pony Bob.

 

with you—nay,‘that this is my death-wound
that I have received.

“ I am bleeding to death, slowly but surely,
for there is no help near; and I wish to have
you listen to all i have to safi

“And more, in dear Bo , I leave my wife
and child to your eeping.

“ You are but a boy in years, but you have a.
noble heart and a man’s head and pluck, and I
trust to you to take them from beneath the
shadow now upon them.

“Somewhere, far from here, you can find for
them a home; and in my effects, left in the
bank at Iowa city, are papers that will give to
my wife/ property that will bring her a small
income.

“ It is hard to lace on your youn shoulders
the load that do, Bob; but I fee that you
will not shirk it when I am gone.”

“ I will do my dut , as you expect it of me,
Mr. Hastings; but cannot believe that you
will die now.”

“ Bob, I do not believe that I have an hour
to live.

“ I am growin weaker every instant, and we
willitsee’l: some p ace where we can halt with se-
cur y.

They soon rode into a canyon, and finding a
spot upon the bank of a mountain brook, Bob
aided Hastings to dismount, and spread his
blankets for h m to lie upon.

Then he hastily gat ered some wood and
soon had a cheerful fire burning.

“ Now let me see it I can help you,” he said
drawing OR the coat gently from the wounded
shoulder.

It was but‘ a. tin hole, but the bullet had
gone deep, and the b ood that hal been flowing
from it steadily had sapped the life of the
stron man.

Ha a surgeon been near, he might haVe
saved the life of the wounded man; but, alone
there in those wilds, with no help near, Brent
Hastings knew that he must die, and Bob real-
ized the sad truth also.

Lying back upon his blanket bed, the brave
man awaited his doom, his hand clasping Bob’s,
and his lips articulating last words of advice
pudedinstruction to the boy about those he
ov .

As gent] as though he was sinking to sleep,
Hugh Has ings’s life left his body, and Bob Has
lam was alone with the dead man in those dreary
Utah wilds»

 

CHAPTER XVI.
THE YOUNG COURIER.
TEE army of the United States, under Gen-
‘ eral Albert Sydney Johnson, was moving by
slow marches upon the Mormon stronghold.

It had encamped in avalley for a short while,
to bringu its trains and send out scouting par-
ties and t e scene was a most picturesque one,
with the “ prairie schooners ” ranged in long
rows, the white tents, the corrals of horses and
cattle, and the soldiers moving about around
the camp-fires.

Stand ng upon a spur of a hill overhanging
the scene, was Bob Haslam, gazing with interest
and adlmration upon the camp.

    

In the background stood his own horse and
the animal that belonged to Hugh Hastings.

It was just sunset, and the valley below was
darkening already under the shadows of.
ap roaching night.

‘Well, I have found the army at last,” said
. Bob, and remounting his horse and leading the
animal, he started down the mountain side by
a rugged trail.

He had just entered the valley, when he was
halted with the ringing words:

“ Halt! who comes there?”

The speaker Bob did not see, for be was
sheltered in aclump of bushes: but he knew it
was a sentinel, and he answered promptly:

“A friend.”

“ Who are you?”

“A boy,” was the laconic response.

“ Where are you going?”

“To yonder military camp."

“Where are you from?”

“ Salt Lake.”

Bob heard an exclamation at the words which
l told where he was from, and then came the
l command:

“ Dismount and advancel”

Bob quietly obeyed, and leading his horses,
' soon found himself confronting a soldier, who
covered him with a musket.

“ Well, you_ are a young one, that is a tact,”
said the soldier, as he gazed upon him In the r

lingering light of day.
l “Yes, I am not ver old: but I wish to see
the comanding ofiicer,’ answered Bob.

“ Are you a courier!”

H No)

“ What are you?”

“Just what you see, a boy.”

“A Mormon?”

(I No. 7-

“ Then what were you doing in Salt Lake?”

“ I will tell that to the general, my man.”

“ Abl well I will send you to him,” and the
sentinel gave a loud call, which was promptly
answere by the appearance of a corporal and
two men.

“ Corporal, here is a young fellow that wishes
to see the general.”

“ All right, I will conduct you to him,”
answered the corporal, and he led Bob toward
the camp.

General Johnson sat in his tent lookin over _a
map, by the aid of a lantern swinging a ve his
head, and having given orders to admit the
youn visitor, he glanced up as Bob entered.

“ ell, my young friend, you wish to see me
I believe?” and the general spoke in a kindly
tone, while he glanced upon the darin , resolute

 

1

face of the youth, who politely dofle his hat,
and said:

“ Yes, General Johnson, I sought our camp
to join on in our march to Salt ake, from
whence have ut just come."

“ Ah I” said the general, seeing that Bob,
though a boy, was one who had been used to
good society, and spoke with the easy manner
of a gentleman.

“ You come from Salt Lake, you say!”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ Well. that is just where I am going.

Pony Bob.

«a. ,. .

 

17,"

 

“But are you a Mormon youth?”

“I am not, sir, nor would 1 be for a for
tune.”

“That sounds well; but tell me what you ,
were doing there?”

“First, let me tell you. sir, that Red Rock- :
well, at the head of his Destroying Angels, is i
now marching to a point where he can ambush i
one”of the trains that you are waiting here

“Indeedl this is news of importance; but
how do you know such to he the case“

“ I saw camIp-flres last night and leaving my
horses where had pitched my quarters for the
night, I went to see who had encamped there.

“Iorept near and recognized Red Rockwell
and his band.

“They were encamped on the bank of a small
stream, and I saw that by going into the water,
I could get near enough to hear what they were
saying, for Red Rockwell and several of his
men were looking at some papers.

“ I Stripped off my clothes and reached a spot
within ten feet of them.”

“ You were daring indeed; but what did you
discover?”

“ I saw that they had a map, and on it, their
words told me, was traced your line of march,
with the trails that your different trains must
follow.

“ One train they spoke of as the ammunition-
train, and said that it must be the first at‘
tacked.

“ With it, I heard Rockwell say, there was a
guard of forty soldiers. and some thirty team-
sters. and if it was captured, he said your army
would have to retreat.”

“ By Jove, he seems well informed, young
man: but what then?”

“I counted the force of Red Rockwell and
there were just sixty-two men, but he said that
he would get Hickman and his thirty Danites to
{gin them, and. by ambushing the train in the

olf Den Canyon, they could kill all of the
guards and capture it.”

“My boy. you bring me indeed most valuable
information, for that is the train I least
dreaded would be attacked. from the trail it
comes.

“ But it will be due at the place of ambush
selected by this Red Rockwell, to-morrow night,
and I must act promptly to thwart him.

“Ho, orderlyl”

An orderly appeared at the general’s call.

“Ask Captain Crosman to come here at
once.”

The officer sent for soon made his ap arance,
and General Johnson told him of w at news
Bob had brought, and furthermore said:

“ Captain, this young gentleman is an Eng-
lishman, and he has given me an outline of his
history, and why he is just from Salt Lake, so
that I have the fullest confidence in him.

“ If I mistake him, then his face is a lie, for it
shows that he is true as steel and 1 shall take it
for his reference and offer him a position here i
at head quarters with me.” I

“ I thank you, sir, and as I have two good
horses, 1 would like the position of a messen-
ger,” said Bob. =

“A8 courier, you mean, and you shall be

 

tent, chatting with half a dozen men an

one. and you will disappoint my expectations
if you do not make a name for yourself. ’

‘But your life will be a hard one, and the
rides you will have to make from headquarters "
to trains. outposts to scouting-parties and such,
will be full of peril.” ‘

“ I accept the peril, General Johnson, with ,
the osition of courier, and thank you, sir,”‘
said oh frankly, and he followed the orderly,
who was told to show him his quarters in the
camp.

  
  
   
   
 
   
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
  
   
   
   
 
   
 

CHAPTER XVII.

TAKEN A. PRISONER.

Boa HASLAM had been one week in the set. ' ,
vice of General Johnson, and in that time men ~
had come to know him as no ordinary, person, ,
in spite of his years. ,

He had in the games of the soldiers in camp,
proven himself an athlete of superior qualifica- :
tions, while he took the prize—a handsome 7
horse, offered for the best rider. r 

Then, too, he was found to be a. dead-shat l
with revolver and rifle, and no mean hand with ,
the sword, be having taken fencing lessons; -'
when he was just in his teens.

One day when he was sitting in front, of his j

orderly came up and said: \ ;
“The general wishes you to report at once,
sir, with your best horse and provisions for a";
two days’ trip.” ~ 
Bob sprung to his feet, and in ten minutes
time he appeared at head-quarters. ‘ ' r»
“ Bob, have not a scout in camp at present
that I care to send off, so I will call on you for .
a hard jaunt,” said the general. '_
“ I am ready, sir.” ' c
“I wish you to goto Fort Bridger and carry"
these dispatches. ‘ F
“You have been studying up the geography "
of the country, and learning the trails, as I told If
01)? i"-2
y “Yes, sir.” ’ 
“ And think you can make the run to Fort;-
Bridger?” . a
“lIncau try, sir; it I fall it shall not be my‘
fan t. ‘ 
“ Well said, my boy, 21nd I depend upon you
to push through in all haste.” 1'
Bob took the papers, put them in his pocket,‘;
and saluting, left the tent. -'
Spring-lug upon his horse, he‘ dashed out of,
camp at a sweeping gallop. . ,
He passed the sentinel with a. pleasant nod, '
and as he rode along about a mile beyond, he;
caught sight of a man hastily spurriu into
some bushes growing alongside of the t ' r‘
Bob did not show by any sign that he had;
observed the man, but rode on as though not
fearing danger. -
But his eyes were narrowly watching ahead“
and he was on the alert to meet friend or,

.2.

foe. ,
He know well that he might get a shot frame
an ambush; but then he did not think an enemy
would be Willing to risk firing so near the campm
and so he rode on, his revolver ready to grasp
at a moment's notice of danger. ‘g .
Arriving opposite to the bushes. ,in which he

    

 

r

18

 

had seen the man disappear, he glanced into
them without appearing to do so, and saw the
outline of a human form crouching there.

When almost by he suddenly drew a revolver,
leveled it and wheeling in his saddle, cried:

" Surrender, or you are a dead man!”

The bushes swayed wildlv,and then came a.
shot from their midst and Bob’s horse dropped
dead, a bullet in his brain; the noble animal had
saved his master’s life by throwing up his head
just in the nick of time.

Nimble as a cat Bob alighted on his feet. and

,as they reached the ground he fired his re- :

volver.

' A cry of pain, mingled with a curse, followed
the shot, and with a bound Bob was in the
thicket, and his weapon was leveled at a man
who was just rising to his feet, and at the same
time'trying to draw a revolver from his belt

', with his left hand, his right hanging limp and ,

' useless by his side, having been shattered by the
bullet from the youth’s pistol.

“Drop that, sir, or take another shot,” and ‘

Bob’s command was obeyed with sullen humor,
while the man said:
“ It’s a cussed shame ter hev ter cave in ter a

ho .
ZA boy’s bullet hits as hard as a man’s, my
friend. as you’ll find out if you don’t obey me.”
“ What does yer want me terdo?

“ Talk quick, fer I has a broken bone here in 1

my arm, durn yer.”

“ Who are you?”

“A hunter in these parts.”

“ I have seen you before.”

“ I guesses not, boy.”

“ I have."

“ Wharf”

“ In Salt Lake.”

“I never were thar.

“ Then it was your ghost.” _

“ I hain’t dead, so I gues. es not; but it mwht
hev been my twin brother.”

“ It was you.”

" I an no.”

“ An I say yes, for I saw you twice in Salt
Lake, and you were pointed out 9.5-”

“ As what?” .

“ Never mind now; but you come With me.”

“ Wharl”

“ You shall see; but where is your horse?”

“ How does yer know I has one?”

“ You are not on foot through this country, so
tell me where your horse is?”

“ Over thar in ther canyon.”

“Lead the way to him— Hold! what are you
doing there?” and Bob threw himself upon the

'man and a fierce struggle at once began.

Bob had caught sight of the man slyly draw-
ing some apers from an inner pocket, as
though to rep them in a stream near by, and

'_, instantly he had sprung forward to Seize them.

The man’s right arm was broken, but he was ‘

’ a powerful fellow withal, and under any other
circumstancas would have come off victor.

- But Bob clung to him like a tiger to its prey,
twisted his limber body about him, and though

taking punishment from his adversary. rained

Pony Bob.

 

 

blow after blow from his small but hard fist in-

to his face with stunning efi‘cct.

,Aftera long struggle the man toppled over,
worn out with pain, fatigue, and the despera-
tion of the boy’s attack.

“ I’ll take those papers, and tie you to prevent
further mischief,” lmntvd Bob, bleeding from
blows and scratches in the face which the man
had given him.

In a moment he hurl tied up the able arm of
his adversary, and then said steruly:

“Now you lead the way to your horse.”

The man arose with an effort, and muttering
oaths obeyed, and soon came upon a superb ani-
mal hitched in a secluded glen.

Bob gazvd upon the splendid horse with ad-
miration and said:

“ I’ll claim this fine animal as you shot mine,
and I’ll name him Danire, after you.”

“I hain’t no Danite,” growled the prisoner,

turning pale.

' “Well, we will see if you are; come, we’ll

strike for camp, as soon as I strip my dead

j horse of his traps."

- This done, Bob started with his prisoner back
to camp, and little more than half an hour after
his departure, put in an appearance at the gen-
eral’s quarters, considerably the worse for

. rough usage.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
ON THE TRAIL TO roar BLRIDGER.

“WELL, Bah, what in the name of the Mor-
mon saints is the matter?” asked the general, as
Bob stepped forward, leading his prisoner with
one hand and the horse with the other.

“I’ve caught a Mormon spy, general, and
thought I‘d fetch him back to you.”

“ He lies, gin'ral. I ain’t no spy, nor no
Mormon nutlwr,” put in the prisoner.

“General, I saw this man in Salt Lake, and
he was said to be one of the Prophet’s spies.

“I saw him dodzins: me on the trail, and af-
ter we had exchanged shots, I breaking his arm
and he killing my horse, besides having a little
rough-andtumble fight, I persuaded him to
come here.

“ These papers, sir, I also took from him."

"Hui thry are important, for they are cor-
rect statements of my forces, artillery, infan-
try, cavalry. scouts and all.

"You have made a most important capture,
Bob. 9. most important capture.

“Here, guard, take this man and see that he
does not escape, and you, Bob, can go to your
gunners and T will send some one else with the

lspntches to Fort Bridger."

“No, indeed, general, for I’m all right and
can start at once, taking this man’s horse; but
1 I would like to ask the prisoner his name.”
“What is that ter you?”

:: fire”you ashamed of your name?”
0

“ Then tell me it.”

“ I ’spose 1 may as well own up, seein’ as yer
hev got me foul, an’ lyin a livm’ streak won’t
save me now yer lies them papers.

“I is called Danite Bill.”

“ Your are right; that is the name I heard
Riven you.

 

Pony Bob. i no I)

 

“Now, general, I am off,” and transferring

his saddle to the spy’s horse, be mounted and .

dashed away, once more bound on his way to
Fort Brid 0For.
It took CBob but a very few minutes to find

out the spy had one of the best, if not the best, 3

horse in that region, for the animal went along
with an ease that did not seem to tire him in
the least, and at a sweeping gallop that would
place many a. mile behind him in an hour’s
tlme.

Bob was a. natural plainsman, one of those
whose nature it is to take in situations of peril
at a glance, and also to instinctively, as it were,
find his way through an unknown country.

He had been a hard student of all signs since
he had struck his first day of travel on the way
with Brent Hastings to his home, and he had
picked up more knowledge in the time he had
been on the border than many men would gain
in long years.

After being appointed courier by General
Johnson he had studied the maps of the country,
and gleaned from guides and scouts all the in-
formation he could.

Also he had talked with the Indian allies with
the command, those among them who could un-
derstand English. paying them liberally for
their advice, and in that way became thorough-
ly “ posted.”

He therefore had no doubts as to his ability not
only to find Fort Bridger, but to make a rapid
ride there.

On his way he was plotting alittle plan of
his own, and he determined to carry it out,
after delivering his dispatches, he the risk what
it might.

Pushing on into the night, until both his
horse and himself needed rest, he then camped
in a secluded nook of the mountain, and findin
good water and grass for Danite, as he calle
his new steed, he was soon fast asleep.

With the gray of dawn he was awake, and
hastily made for himself a tin-cup of coflee,
and ate a. hearty breakfast, after which he sad-
dled Danite, and again set 03 at a. rapid

pace.

He had ilust reached a level tract of land,
running a ong the base of the mountain, and
through which whirled a rapid stream, when
he heard the clatter of hoofs.

Glancin in the direction of the sound, he saw
a score of orsemen coming around a mountain
spur at a gallop. ,

It was impossible to avoid being seen by
them, for it was a hundred ards to the cover
in the thicket on the mounta n side, from which
the bandihad just emerged.

To turn back, would force him once more to
retrace his steps toward the army camp, so be
determined to press on and make all speed for
Fort Bridger.

At a glance he recognized the horsemen.

They were the band of Red Rockwell, and
that cruel young chief rode at their head.

fob knew that it would be death to him to be
ta 'en.

Besides, he remembered that Red Rockwell
had been surprised and defeated by Captain
Crosman, when he had intended to surprise and

 

capture the ammunition train. and that a nris- I

oner taken by the Destroying Angels, and who
had escaped and returned to camp, had report-
ed that he, Bob. was the one who had given the
warning. for a Danite spy in the army had so
told his chief.

Bob well knew that this made him a marked
person in these parts, and that the Destroying
Angels would end his career by the vilest tor-
ture were he captured by them.

As they recognized the boy, a yell broke from
the lips of the Angels in chorus, and they spurred
on at a terrific pace.

Bob gave rein to his splendid horse, and flew
along like the wind.

Then the race and life chase began in earn-
est.

Red ROCkwell was well mounted, and his horse
shot ahead of the others.

Then another animal hung on his heels, and a
few lengths behind was a third horse.

Behind there came the band bunched together
excepting two or three slow steeds that could
not hold the killing pace.

“ Those three horses ahead, Danite, have got
good speed; but you are holding them wherm
they are. and are not doing your best. .

"But I will not push you, good fellow,” said
Bob, in a kindly tone to his horse who certainly’,
was not distressing himself by th
gom .

“ ou’ve got the bottom, and can put on,
more steam, if I call on on, Danite, so we have '
them— Hal what are t ey yelling so about?" '

He glanced back at his pursuers. who were
yelling defiantly. and then he looked ahead, to

suddenly turn pale. 1,;

“Great Lord. Danite! we are lost, I am,
afraid i" cried Bob and he suddenly drew rain
and glanced anxiously about him.

CHAPTER XIX.
THE LIFE LEAP.

 

WHAT Bob' saw before him was enough to  5

bring him to a halt.
He had been riding along a level plain, I

plateau, which was divided in the center by a ‘

stream.

The banks of this stream were of rock, and :'

gracipitous. the water having worn the
own to thirty feet below the plain level. V

The water looked deep and rushed along like
a mill-race.

epacehewal _‘J

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

Along the top of the rocky bank was a light K3“,

rail, and the trail making a turn with: the

stream approached it at a spot where deer and I f '

other animals had gone down to drink.

But the rock had split off. leaving a elm “

alone, and here the time-worn path ended ab-
ruptly. ' ‘

  

Across to the'other side was fully fifteen feet, ' 

and it was lower than the one on which Bohr
had been approaching. '

Bob glanced about him and saw that beyond \

the plateau a valley e ed, not a hundred
feet awa , and that the st am came tumbling '
over a fa l from the mountain above.

Around the plateau the mountain sides were a.
series of precipices which not even the Rocky ,
Mountain sheep could scale. - v

To escape he must turn and dash by his putt-- ’
suers. or attempt, the leap across the stream. 

,7;

.\

..‘~

, q

    
 

 

 

He now understood the triumphant yells of
the Destroying Angels, who must know the trap
inm which he was running.

Bob had halted some sixty paces from the
the stream; but only for an instant, and in that
time his quick glance had taken in the situation
in all its desperation.

Then he rode to the brink overlooking the
stream, and said calmly:

“ We must make the leap, Danite, for it’s a.
chance here, and death yonder,” and he glanced
back at his pursuers, now not three hundred
yards away.

Turning, Bob rode back a hundred feet, and
then wheeled and urged his horse into a run.

The Destroying Angels yelled the louder, re-
cognizing his purpose, but not believing that he
could make it. I

It was evident that they recognized him, as

the boy prisoner they had once had in their ,
fort, and who had so cleverly escaped them, ‘

and as also the one to whom they owed the
failure of their plot to ambush the ammunition
train.

Like an arrow the superb animal went at the
stream; but, apparently dismayed by the mag-
nitude of the undertaking, he suddenly halted
upon the brink with a quickness that would
have unseated a less skillful rider and hurled
him into the waters below.

Angered and anxious at the failure of his
horse to make the leap, Bob drove the spurs
deep into his side, and wheeling him dashed
back to get another start.

The Destroying Angels seemed wild with de-
lightiat his failure, and came on with increased
s ee .

13To get a better start, Bob rode still nearer to
his foes, and when he turned to make the rush,

, Red Rockwell was not a hundred yards away,

with the band driving on at a terrific pace in
the rear of their chief. ,

Determined to force Danite to the leap. Bob
raked him cruelly with the spurs. and yelled at

him in savage tones, until the frightened, tar. =,
ror-maddened horse went ofl like a rocket, l

bounding into the air and snorting wildly.
Breathlessly the Destroyng Angels watched

' the daring rush for the leap of the brave boy,

saw the horse forced into the air, hang suspend-

‘ ed an instant as it were, and then come down

upon the other bank, while Bob took off his sol-
dier cap and waved it around his head as the
noblp horse ran on his way to the foothills be-
yon .

 

CHAPTER XX.
THE BOY coomna‘s TRIUMPH.

BOB, having made the desperate leap in
safety, could not repress a shunt of triumph
that rose to his lips, and then he patted Danite’s
neck. saying in a kindly tone:

“Noble fellow! brave old boy, to bring me
over in safety.”

Danite, having ade the leap, seemed proud
of it himself, for e stopped his angry snorting,
and wild bounds. and sped along with his neck
arched and eyes flashing.

Glancing back at his foiled foes, Bob sudden- w
l

1y drew rein. while he cried:

Pony Bob.

“aWhatl does Red Rockwell intend to risk it
too.

“ He is indeed anxious to catch me ”

It was true that the chief of the Destroying
Angels did intend to attempt the desperate leap,
for he had put his revolver back in his holster.
gathered his reins well in hand, settled himself
in his saddle and was driving straight for the
jump.

In his deep interest, Bob forgot his own dan-
ger for the moment and stood gazing at the
daring horseman.

The men of the band too,'in their amazement,
came to a halt, and stood gazing spell-hound at
their chief.

Like the wind the horseman rushed on, the
brink was reached, and just us all expected to
see the animal take the bound, he wheeled about
and darted away.

He had not dared make the venture.

With a curse, that reached the ears of Bob,
Red Rockwell urged his horse into a. furious
run, circled around, and once more drove
straight at the leap.

This time be fairly gashed the flanks of his
horse with his sharp spurs. and urged him for-
ward, in a way that rendered him more afraid
of his master than the leap before him.

All breathlessly watched the result, saw the
horse rise in the air, while a shout burst from
the rider’s lips, and then came one awful in-
stant of suspense. '

One moment the poise, as the horse shot for-
ward, then the downward movement toward
the other bank, and next the clutter of the iron
hoofs as the front feet touched the edge of rock,
and then an exolamation of horror from a Score
of lips as the animal witha wild neigh went
‘ down out of sight!

The plunge followed, and the band rushed for
1 the edge of the precipitous bank to see the re-
‘ suit, while Bob also turned.

From the depths of the stream came aloud
halloo for help, and the words:

“ Throw me a line!”

But on the other shore the nature of the
ground was such that no one could reach the
edge, except at the spot where the leap was
made, and the Destroying Angels, dashing up,
stood helpless and dazed. while their chief “as
being whirled away before their eyes, to be
killed upon the rocks jutting out of the waters
here and there, or to die by drowning, for no
man could livein that whirlpool long.

On the other hand, Bob saw that the ground
approaching the stream was open, and he rode
up to the edge below the place where Red Rock-
‘ well had disappeared, and just out of range of

the Danites‘ bullets.

He heard the cry for help from the chief,
1and a glance showed him that he could save

1m.

His was too noble a heart not to aid even a
bitter fee in danger of death, and as the Dunite
chief was being whirled along, he unloosened
his long lariat, whirled' it above his head, and
called out: “

“ Your men are powerless to save you, so 1

ill.
“ Catch this noose."

I

h a

The chief turned his amazed look upon him,
just as the coil was thrown.

He made an effort. to catch it, but an eddy
seized him, nnd he fails .

“ Never mind, I u ill try again,” cried Bob
cheerily, and drawing up his coil again, he
dashed along the bank at full speed, and halted
at a spot beyond the man who was sweeping so
swiftly along.

Once more now !”’he called out. as Red Rock-
well. nearly exhausted, came driving along.

“All right,” was the answer, but the voice
showed failing strength.

Again the larth was thrown, and the hand
of Red Rockwell grasped it.

Hastin he slipped the noose over his shoul-
ders, and then came the jerk, as the current
swept him to the re e’s end.

But Danite stom firm as a rock, the lariat
held, and dismounting, Bob began the task of
helping the chief out of danger.

Aftera short rest, Red Rockwell called out

> that he was able to climb up, and hand over
hand he came to the top.

Bob held forth one hand to aid him over the
edge, and in the other grasped his revolver.

“ You have saved my life, boy; but I sup-
pose it is to make me your prisoner, that John-
son may hang me?”

“ You are mi taken, sir, for I would not take
so mean an advantage even of a Danite foe.

“ I saved your life, because it was in my
power to do so, and now you can go your way,
and I will go mine,” and Bob wheeled on his
heel, and sprung lightly into the saddle.

Across the rugged and cleft-river: land on the
other bank, he saw the Destroying Angels
struggling slowly to reach the spot opposite,

‘ and he was anxious '0 get away.

In utter amazement Red Rockwell looked at
him, and then said:

“Boy, I beg your pardon for the thought I
expressed against you, and I humbly acknowl-
edge that I owe you a debt I can see no means
of repaying.

I f“Good-by, and success attend you through
i e.”

“ Thank you, and I am sorry I cannot say the
same to you.”

“We have met before?”

H Yes.”

“In my fort?” .

«4 es 1!

“That was a clever escape you made.”

“My pard and I both thought so at the time.”

“You, in some way, got hold of my inten-
tion to attack Johnson‘s ammunition train and
thwarted it?"

“ I am lad to say that I did.”

“ Well, will return the favor you have done
me, by allowing you to pass my men on your
way back to your camp.”

“ No, thank you, I will seek camp by another
route.’

“ You doubt me?”

“1 wish to keep clear of the lion’s den—good-
by,” and Bob rode on without another word,
wishing to leave Red Rockwell under the im~
pression that he was going back to the army
camp, and not toward Fort Bridger.

um

Pony Bob.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
THE BOY SPY.

“ A comma from the army, sir, to see you,"
said the orderly of Fort Bridger, entering the

, quarters of Major Durnly one morning early

while the officer was dressmg for breakfast.
“Show him in at once, orderly,” was the re-
ply, and into the room was ushered young
obert Haslam.
“Ah! a courier the orderly said," remarked
Major Durnly, gazing at his visitor. r
"Yes, sir, am special courier for General

‘ Albert Sydney Johnson,” and Bob saluted po-

litely.

“ A young one, certainly; but you look like
one who knows what he is about.”

“ I hope I do, sir, and I have brought you
these dispatches from General Johnson.”

“And you have come through alone?” said
the major.

“ Yes, sir.”

“ When did 1you leave the general?”

“Thirty-six ours ago, sir. ’

“You have made wonderful time,” and the
major glanced over the dispatches, and added:

‘ You also bring important news, and good ’
news—ah, I see that the general speaks of you
in most flattering terms, and says that you will ,
bring back return dispatches which I may have
for you.

“Now you need food and rest, and you shall
be taken good care of. my gallant Boy Courier,
for to-morrow you will have to return with im-
portant dispatches to the general.”

“ Pardon me, Major Durnly, but would itbe
possible to send them by some one else?" ~

“ Certainly, it you do not think you can make
the ride.”

Bob was slightly nettled by the reply of the
ofilcer, and said quickly:

“I can make it, sir, if any one can: but I
asked to have another courier return with the
dispatches, as I felt that I could serve the gen~
eral better just now in another capacity.”

“And what is that, may I ask?”

“It is possible, sir, for me to play the part of
a spy and enter Salt Lake City, when I can get
information that will doubtless be valuable to
General Johnson.”

“ What! would you dare do this?"

“Yes, sir.”

“But can you?”

“I think so, air.”

2 1131;: how, r‘ny young friengr’M

aveapan n my min a or Darn]
that I think will work well.” ’ j y’

“ Come to breakfast with me, my boy—what
Is your name?”

“Robert Haslam, sir; but the soldiers call me
Little Bob.” ' ‘

“ Well, Bob, breakfast With me and we will
talk the matter over, for I want certain infor-
mation which can only be gotten in the way

 

what you say you will undertake, if anybody g

I can,” and the major led the way to his mess _

, quarters, where Bob ate his breakfast with a v
‘ relish that showed a clear conscience and a
good appetite.

m

you propose, and I believe you can accomplish ' -y 7

 

     
  
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
   
   
 
   
  
   
  
  
    
   
  
    
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
 

l

' ‘- and We are friends of Bill’s. and he came to our

Pony Bob.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
PLAYING A BOLD GAME.

BOB tarried just long enou h at Fort Bridger

' tofully rest his horse and imself, and then,

afteralong interview with Major Durnly, he

rode away one night just after sunset, bound

, fipon the most perilous undertaking of his
a

With apparent ease he made his way through
the mountain passes in the direction of Salt
Lake City, and not wishing to make his ap-
proach by day, he so timed himself, that just
after sundown the following evening after leav-
ing the fort, he rode up to the outer guard that
then encircled the Mormon stronghold.

He was promptly halted, and in response an-
lwered: .

“A messenger in haste to see the Prophet.”

He was ordered to dismount and approach,
for the Mormon city was under military rule

, at that time, and the guards closely inspected
him. and one was sent to the inner line with
no.

Here he said that he had important tidings
for the Mormon chief, and an ofIi :er led Ihim to
he headquarters of that distinguished person-
age. who Just then was creating such a stir in
the Unite States.

' The officer sent in word that a courier had
arrived and was anxious to see the chief, and

L 1,111 a few moments after he was admitted into

the presence of the man, who held such sway

over his subjects as to cause them to back him

in his defiance of the United States Govern-
. men .

The eyes of the Mormon leader turned upon
Bob as be advanced toward him, and he asked,
sternl :

“ all young sir, who are you, and from
whence c you come?1

Bob did not seem in the least degree abashed j

by the august presence in which he had so dar-

' , 1n ly intruded, but answered:

‘ I am sent by one who was your spy to make
his report to you, as he was not able to come.”

“ Hal To what spy do you referl"

- “One known as Danite Bill.”

“Ah. yes! but has harm befallen the man?”

“It has, sir, for he was shot, and now lies
»wounded in the mountains.”

" Hal this is bad news, for that man went on
important work for me, and—”

“ He accomplished it, sir, and here is what he
gave me to hand to you,” and Bob did not even
wince at the lie he was telling us he handed
some papers to the chief.

.' “Aha! Thisis good indeed, for it gives me
just the numbers of my foes that are marching

against me, and the trails by which they will ,

. doubtless come.
v “Danite Bill has done well; but I hope that
he is not seriously wounded.”

swered Bob, remembering the general’s threat ‘

against the Mormon spy.
' “ This is bad. But where is he?”
“In the mountains, sir, not very far from the
1 American army.”
“ And who are you, my son?”
'f I live in the mountains, sir, with my father;

cabin when he was wounded and begged me to
' hasten on here with his horse, and give you
those papers, and get your orders what was
next to he done.”
1 “ But if he is wounded he cannot—”
i “He wished my father to do what he could
for him.” '

“Then you and your father are true believ-
ere?”

“ Oh, ves, sir.”

“ Well, you have done your duty nobly, and
if you care to enlist in secret service for me, I
will reward you well.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When can you return?”

“My horse will nerd a. short rest, sir; but I
can go to-morrow night.”

“That will do, and I will send by you some
instructions to Danite Bill, and he will tell you,
or your father—whichever of you undertakes
the work—what it is best for you to do.

“The truth is, I want this General Johnson
to be thrown off his guard in some way, and to
; do this I have got to have a pretended deserter
, from my fold seek his camp for safety, and
tell certain stories.

“ Now, my son you look like a. shrewd, dar-
ing fellow, and I believe you can do the work;
but I will see you again—so now go to an inn
and get the rest on need.”

Bob bowed andy departed and being directed
to an inn near by, mounted his horse and rode
there, his brain busy with what he had seen
and heard.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE TRACKER COMES TO GREEK .‘

TEE young spy had not gone very far before
3 he saw a man on foot sneaking after him.

He felt that he was watched, so at once al-
tered his determination to make a certain visit
which he had in his mind, and go at once to
an ion.

This he did quietly as though such had been
his intention in the first place.

He sought the office, got the landlord togive
him a. room, and ordering supper went out to
look after the welfare of his horse.

This done he returned and ate a. hearty meal
and went up to his room, asking the landlord to
call him early in the morning.

As he passed through the office, he saw seated
there the very man whom he had noticed dog-
. ging his steps.

He had seen the man at the Mormon head-
‘ quarters, then caught a. glimpse of him as he
passed a lighted Window, and now recognizld
iim in the inn, and was therefore convinced
‘ that with all the Mormon leader’s affected con-
, fidence in him, he had put a spy upon his

 

j track.
“It is not likely, sir, that he will live,” an- t

Forewarned as he thus was, Bob was fore-
armed, and went to his room With a firm deter-
mination not to be caught in any not where
cunning and discretion would prevent.

He heard a step without. and confident that
his follower was there, he began whistling in
an indifferent way, and, to give the watcher
the slip, he coolly undressed himself, put out;
his lamp and sprung into bed.

(9‘

   

 

A moment nftcr he heard footsteps retreating
along the hall, and rising. be dressed in the
dark, and going to the window raised the sash
and looked out.

It was some fifteen feet from the ground, and
his window looked into a. small kitchen gar-

en.

Going to his saddle-pockets, which he had
brought up in his room with him, Bob took out
his lariat and slipping one end around the bed’
post, dropped the other to the ground.

A moment after he stood in the little garden,
and glued coolly around him.

Having gotten his bearings he leaped the
fence, into an alley running to the stables, and
mude his way into the street.

He knew enough of the town to take the right
direction to the spot he wished to find.

A walk of ten minutes brought him to a house
where he had been before.

It was the home of Kit Pinkerton, and the
youth sighed as he thought of the sad story he
had to tell Etc the wretched wife and young
daughter of Brent Hastings.

A light burned in the same room in which
had occurred the meeting of the husband and
wife, divided by the deviltry of the Mormon
villain; but the shades Were down and Bob
could not see in the window.

Try as he might, he could get no peep into the
interior of the house, and there was but one
thin left for him to do, and that was to boldly
knoc and trust to luck to see those he wished.

Going up to the door he rapped lightly, and
soon the door opened.

Bob fairly started, for Eve stood before him,
as beautiful as a little fairy, though her face
was pale.

She started at seeing him. and for an instant
seemed about to cry out. but quickly checking
herself she placed her finger upon her lip, and
taking his hand led him through the entrance
room into one adjoining and where a light
burned dimly.

“ ’Shl” she whispered, “and I will go and
tell mamma.’ ,

She glided from the room and Bob was alone.

Soon there came the rustling of skirts, and
Mrs. Hastings entered.

She was deathly pale and looked haggard and
worried, while she advanced to Bob and grasped
his hands.

Then, as soon as she could command her arm)

tions, she said in a voice that trembled:

“ You are the friend of my husband, and a
true one, though only a boy.”

“ I am his friend, and yours, Mrs. Hastings,
and I have come to see what 1 could do for you
and Eva.”

“ Heaven be praised that Brent did not come.

get into no trouble.

“But now I can do nothing, for I am tied
down watching by the bedside of Colonel Pink-
erton.”

“ What! he is not dead, then?” cried Bob in
some alarm, mingled with his surprise.

“ No; but he has been very, very low, and is
not vet out of danger.

“He did not make known who Brent really

was. and held the oflicer with him that fearful
night, 10 secrecy, so I have not been suspected
of treachery, and have nursed the man day and
night, as I have been forced to do.

“ But tell my husband that, as he has for-,
given what seemed an intentional wrong to

, him, that I will come to him with Eva as soon

 

as it is in my power to do so.

“Tell him not to expose himself, but to be
patient and wait, for the American army must
soon take this stronghold of Mormonism and _
all will be well.”

Bob had not the heart to tell the poor wife

  

‘~
.,

that her husband lay buried in the mountains, . ‘ ',
so he promised to deliver her messages, and, _ ,.

after arranging to have her communicate with
him on a certain day at a spot he'named,
through some trusty messenger, he took his
leave with the words, uttered in a whi er:
“And when you send word, Mrs. astin
that you and Eva are well. and how Colone
Pinkerton is, please learn all you can of the
movements of the Mormons, that will be of in-
terest to General Johnson, and send that too."
“ I will, and such it was my intentioh to do
before you suggested it, for I think I can get

certain valuable information that will be useful '- ' 1

to the invading army.” '

Mrs. Hastings then bade Bob
left the room, and a moment after
escort him out.

He had just parted from her at the gate, and .3 5

was turning to walk down the street, when,
from the shadow of a tree, a man sprung sud-
denly upon him a knife in his hand. .

Even in the darkness Bob recognized his-'.,':

tracker to the inn, and quick as a flash he fired
his revolver. without drawing the was 11 from
the holster, for he knew it was deat to him
and ruin to Mrs. Hastings and Eva if he was
cau ht there. ' ‘
ith a groan the man sunk in his tracks,

ood-by and  ‘
va came to _

. t
l

r

y

while Bob called out to Eva to fly into the house. 

for safety.
But the brave girl instead ran back to his side I
and said: “ '

“I will not leave you to meet the danger ‘*

alone.”

“But the danger is over, Eva.the man if" ‘

dead, for he attempted my life and 1 killed him,
and you must be in the house. when the nerds
come, while I will run OE and y get
away. .~
“Quick, do not stay here.”

She glanced at the motionless form and with“ 

a nod of farewell ran into the house.

Bob knew that the shot would alarm the ‘
guards, who would soon be on hand: but he wal 
determined not to leave a living man thereto 
. tell upon him, and he placed his hand upon his 
for he is a marked man, and I trust you will '

heart.

It had ceased to beat, and the boy bounded.“
away, just as he heard steps hurriedly apt 

pronchmg.

Back to the kitchen-garden of the inn he
went, and finding his lariat still hanging from-
the window was soon in his room. .

Lighting a lamp he saw at once that the door ‘.

had been unlocked i‘his transl‘ having evidently» ‘
e " .

V

entered by a talse

 

  
  
  
 


. I

   

r

' do as I have ordered him to do, if you do not

directly at him, and that both hands were
a raised, and Without weapons, as in token o! no
hostile Intentions.

‘\

l,

24 Pony Bob. I

\

 

“ Well. he can tell no tales now, that is cer~ 

’ tain, so I’ll just take a sleep and be ready for ‘

the morrow.”

So saying, Bob retired to rest with the air of
one who was rapidly learning to take life as it
came, without fear or repining.

CHAPTER XXIV.
A FAVOR RETURNED.

BOB was promptly called, at the hour desig-
nated, by the landlord, and after breakfast he
was about to order his horse when a messenger
came, ordering him up to the quarters of the
Mormon leader.

Bob had heard a score of stories alreadv, how
a trusted servant of the Mormon chief had been
slain during the night, while on secret-service
'work, but not a. Whisper was abroad as to who
had killed him.

It was, however, with a feeling of dread that
he went to face the Mormon chief.

He was, however. greeted in a kindly way,
and a number of official papers were handed to
him with the remark:

“Give- them to Danite Bill, my trusted spy,
and he will act 11 n them.”

“In case that anite Bill should be dead, sir,
what shall I do with them?” asked Bob.

“In that case open the package yourself and

 

fear to take big risks.”

“I do not fear, sir, and I will do what I can,”
answered Bob, and ten minutes after he was on
his way out of the stronghold of the Mormons.

IIe had reached a wild place in the mountain
trail in hen he suddenly descried a. horseman
before him.

He saw that he had come toahalt, was gazing

The overhanging rocks and trees just there
made the place quite dark even in daylight; but
Bob recognized in the new-comer none other
than Red Rockwell, the Captain of the Destroy-

 

ing Angels.
Under other circumstances he would have

‘ expected war between them; but the attitude
v at the Danite leader was such that he could do

nothing else then meet him upon the same
terms the manner of Red Rockwell indicated.

“‘Well, my young friend, we meet again,” ‘

 Rockwell with a pleasant smile.
“Yes. and it is not the custom for foes to
me'et I: a peaceful way; but you so wished it, I
u. e.
f‘ es, for though foes in one sense, we are
friends also, at least I am your friend, and am

’- here to prove it.”

Bob said nothing in reply, and Red Rockwell
cantinued:

" You have embarked. ina most perilous work,
my young friend.”

I; 0 what do you referg”

“gollygour hem,a a spy.

“I know that you entered Salt Lake City as
aspy, and that your story about Danite Bill is
false, for I am aware that he was banged by
the American army yesterday as a spy. ,

“ You enlisted in the service or our great

Mormon chief, and be trusted you: yet as he
does with all others.he set me to watch you,
for I arrived in Salt Lake last night.

“He told me to trail you, and see if it was
true that Danite Bill lay wounded in your
father’s cabin, as you rep lrted.

“ It so, to let you go your way; but if you
had deceived him, to take you to my fort and
execute you.

“Knowing that I would have to do my duty
if my men went with me, I sent them one trail
while 1 came this, and now 1 tell you to make
all haste to your army, and I will report that
you escaped me. Do you See yonder mountain
trail?”

“ Yes.”

“Take it, for by that way you will meet none
of my men, and it is the shortest route to your
army.”

“You are very kind, and you have liquidated
the debt between us,” said Bob, grasping the
Danite’s band.

“ You think so?”

H  l,

“I am Very glad, for I do not like to owe any
one a debt of any kind.

“ Good—by.”

Bob again rasped the outstretched hand of
Red Rockwel and rode on his way, while the
Danite captain, acquainted with every recess of
the mountains, turned shortly off to the left and
disappeared in the thicket of undergrowth that
covered the hillsides.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
run DANITE’S WARNING.

WITH a desire to reach the American camp as
soon as possible, Bob EreSsed rapidly on, and
without adventure reac ed the head-quarters of
General Johnson. -

He found the general very anxious about him,
for a courier had arrived from the fort bring-
ing dispatches, and with a hint of the dangerous
work that Bob had embarked in.

An interview which he held with the general
lasted for an hour, and the papers sent by the
Mormon leader were all gone over, and were

‘ remarked as having been prepared with a. great

deal of skill to mislead the Americans regarding
the movements of the Mormons.

"This is well concocted, Bob, and the Prophet
deserves credit for his cunning: but I shall ar-
ran e to disappoint him,” said the general.

“ can give you an idea, sir, of just what I
think he will do,” said Bob. _

“I‘ll warrant you had your eyes open while
in the town,” answered the general, With a
smile.

Bob responded by telling the general just
what had occurred to him since leaving camp,
from his fli ht from the Destroying Angels and
reseue of ed RockWell to his meeting that
person on the trail and his warning to high.

“ 1 fear you will be a marked person in these
parts. Bob,” said the general. ,

“I am willing, sir; but it is catching before
hanging, and my luck generally holds me good
in alight place; but, General Johnson, may I
make hold to ask about Danite Bill?”

“Ah: that villain whom you captured, Bob,

I \

 

s
4.

’»

 

D»

‘ soldiers as a most important personage.

sentinel behind him and struck the mountain

 

I Pony Bob. 25

made his escape in some mysterious way, and so
cleverly, indeed, that I cannot hold the guards
responsible for it.

“He is a moet dangerous man to be at large,
Bob, and I warn you to be on the alert against
him, for you have made him a. most bitter
emmy.”

Bob made no reply to this warning, but asked
the general quietly if there were any dispatches .
to he sent anywhere.

“Yes, Bob, but I dislike to ask you to keep
on the go as you have been doing.”

“1 pre or it, sir, to remaining in camp.”

“Very Well, I wish to send dispatches back to
the fort, and they will be readg late in the
aftgr’noon, so go to your tent an get needed
re»- .

Bob took the general’s advice. and, after some
hours of sleep awoke greatly refreshed.

After partaking of what he called a “good
square meal,” he reported at the head-quarters
ready for his ride to the fort.

Bob had now come to be looked upon by the

His daring had won the admiration of all, and
already be had received, as was customary
among bordermen, half a dozen nick-names.

“Some called him “ Reckless Bob," others
dubbed him “ Little Bob,” and then he bore the
not very complimentary appellation of the
“ Devil’s Rider,” the latter referring to his very
reckless manner of dashing along over all kinds
of trails.

Many waved him a farewell as he dashed out
of camp like an arrow from a bow, mounted
upon Danite, who seemed as tireless as his young
master.

It was nearly sunset as Bob left the last

trail. .
Suddenly he saw something ahead that at-
tracted his attention.

It was a pile of rocks directly in the trail, and
upholding a stout stake, evidently hewn from a.
tree with a knife.

Upon this stake was fastened securely, with
wooden pegs, a thick piece of paper, upon which
were a few lines of writing.

The penmanship, or ratherpencilmanship, for
it was written wi h a pencil, was none of the
best, and the spelling was worse.

But it was plain enough for Bob to read it,
and see that it was far from being a pleasant
communication for him.

It read as follows:

“A. WARNING!
“ TO
“Tau Imp or A Koummn,
“BOB THE DEVIL‘S RIDER.

 

" He hes got fer ult prowlin’ round these trails at
he wants tcr live, er ther Angus hes him marked
down ter die, an‘ thar are won on hes trale ter torter
him that rights his name. Damn BILL."

After the name was rudely drawn a dagger,
to make the warning more threatening.

Bob read the notice over_ careful y several
times. and then taking a slip of paper and a.

pencil .l'rom his pocket, wrote something in a
very distinct hand and tacked it with wooden
pegs just ahovethe “ warning.”

What Bob wrote was:

“Danite Bill’s warning carefully read and un-
heeded. ouama Boa."

Mounting his horse Boh rode on his way once
more; but he was ready for anv surprise, and
watched his trail ahead as closely as a. cat
would a mouse. -

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
m WINTER-QUARTERS.

HAVING to wait for supplies, trains and rein-
forcements, General Johnson found winter upon
him in that wild land of the Mormons, before
he was able to move against the stronghold of
Salt Lake City.

He was thus forced to go into winter-quarters,
and Fort Bridger consequently became the
seene of action for the American army during
the long and dreary months that followed.

During the time that intervened between the

army’s leaving the camp in the valley and set- .

tling down in winterrquarters, Pony Bob, as he
was now generally called, had added greatly to
his reputation as a most daring youth and reck-
less rider.

He had captured from half a dozen Danites,
encumped in a canyon one stormy night, their
ponies, and six finer specimens of horseflesh
were never seen.

Bob had dashed into camp one morning at
daybreak, riding Danite, and leading his six,
ponies, and his capture caused him to e envied
by many, while he was offered large prices for
the splendid little animals by officers who took
a fancy to them.

“No, I’ll not sell them, for if I am to be a
courier they are just what I need,” he answered
to those who sought to purchase them.

“But you will not need all six, Bob,so let
me have that tan-colored one,” said a cavalry
captain.

“No, sir, I will nu: r“ for when the season

for work 0 ens 1 will Deni than: all, as I intend -

to rnwl a over this country and learn it well,
an it will take the ponies as well as Danite to
see me through.”

Thus was Bob deaf to all importunities tosell,
and gradually his numerous nicknames were
dropped and the one of Pony Bob came to be
the one by which he was known.

The fact is, Bob had not forgotten that he had
Eledged himself to rescue Mrs. Hastings and

va from Salt Lake, and he knew that his six
ponies would serve him well if it came to a
flight from the place.

While in winter-quarters at Fort Bridger,
Bob made several most perilous scouts down to
the neighborhood of the Mormon stronghold
and always returned with some information of
va ue.

Finding it impossible to get into Salt Lake as,

he was, and knowmg that he would be quickly
recognized, and that his specdy death would‘
follow, Bob lit upon a most ingenious method to
carry out his determination, and that it met
with success, the next chapter will reveal.

 

 

    

26 V " Pony Bob.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
UNDER FALSE COLORS.

ONE afternoon when darkness was coming on
and a driving snow-storm was prevailing, the
Sentinel at one of the Mormon outposts was sur-
prised to behold a horseman approaching.

He stood in a canyon pass, shrinking for
shelter from the wind and drivnig snow under
an overhanging rock, while at his feet blazed a
cheerful fire.

He was not expecting an advance of the
Prophet’s foes in the midst of winter, but the
post he held was a good one to be guarded, and

hence be was put there to prevent any one from ‘
leaving the town, and to sound an alarm should _
any one attempt to enter the lines by that 1

lonel pass through the canyon.

A u 1e. hanging by a cord about his neckt
would ave sent its ringing notes far up the
canyon and warned the guards at the cabin,

but he saw nothing to fear in a, woman mounted ,
upon a pony, and he blew no blast of alarm, I
but regarded her approach with surprise and ;

interest.

She was well mounted, and her dress heto—
kened that she belonged to the higher order of
soriety.

But she was all huddled up in her saddle and
seemed verycold and wretched.

Seeing the sentinel she at first drew rein, and
then rode rapidly toward him, while she called
out: ‘

“ 0h, sir, are you a Mormon sentinel?”

“I am, miss, and I am surprised to find you
out in such a. storm and alone.”

“I have only myself to blame for it, for I
rode out this morning with a party of friends
and foolishly left them just to give them a

soare-

“I left by the southern pass and got lost, and
oh! I am so glad to find my way again, for I
am half-frozen and worn out.”

“Poor lady, dismount and warm yourself at
my fire. and I will signal for the guard to es-

, cort you into town,” said the sentinel, assured
that the veiled woman was the daughter or
wife of some distinguished Mormon.

“No, no: I dare not dismount, but will be ‘

obliged and repay you it you will put me on
the direct trail iuto tow n.

“The fact is, I do not wish my friends to
know I got lost, and wish to gain my home as
soon as 1 can unseen.

“Here, take this. my gaud man, and put me
on the way to reach town wi hout being seen.”

She thrust into the hand of the sentinel a l
couple of pieces of gold, and be promptly said:

“ I will do as you ask, lady; but I should not
reallly leave my post.”

“ t will be but for a few minutes.” ,

“True and the relief will not come until ‘
eight o‘clock. Just follow me, lady,” and in his
rich reward the Mormon sentinel forgot his
duty and ignored the driving snow-storm. ,
, The horsswoman rode close upon his heels,
and was led by a secluded route directly into
an opening, from whence the lights of the town
could be seen below, and to which led a. good
roadway.

Than ing the man the woman rode on. and.

as though acquainted with the locality, directed
her way toward a home in the most pleasant
portion of the town.

The snow still drove furiously about, but un-
heeding it, and seemingly no longer co‘d, the
woman rode into an alleyway and halted by
the side of a large stable.

The door opened readily, and both horse and
rider disappeared within.

But soon the door reo ened and the woman
‘ come forth, crossed a sma 1 yard and tapped at
the door of the house that stood upon the
grounds she h .ld invaded.

The one who answered the knock was evi-
dentl y a Servant, and was asked:

“ Is Mrs. Pinkerton in?"

“She is m'am; but come in out of the storm
and 1 will call her.”

The visitor stepped within the house, where a
cheerful fire was blazing upon the hearth, and
the servant went off to call her mistress.

Mrs. Pinkerton soon came into the room, and
seeing that they were alo. e, the visitor raised
her vail and said in a low voice:

“I must see you alone.”

“ Bub Huslam !” V
I The words broke in a hoarse whisper from the
‘ lips of the poor woman who had been so cruelly
. deceived by Kit Pinkerton, the Mormon and
" she seized the arm of the disguised boy and
- dragged him quickly to her own room, when
; she turned and locked the door while she said in
l a voice that trembled:

i “ Oh, my boy. why have you so imperiled

1 your precious life?”

a “To take you and Eva from this hated life

. you lead here,” was the cool reply of Pony Bob
:5 hie sat down before the fire to warm his

. an s.

_

CHAPTER XXVIII.
PONY BOB‘s PLAN FOILED.

1 Mas. HASTINGS was certainly alarmed at
Bob’s bold act, in entering the Mormon city as
he had.

l She had communicated with him several

times recently, since she had last seen him, and

once Eva had boldly ridden out of the lines on
her pony and met the Boy Courier, when they
had had along talk on various subjects.

But now Pony Bob had daringly sought her
home, and she was dismayed at his temerity,
especially when he Said to her that he had come
to rescue her and Eva from the bondage in
which they lived.

Colonel Pinkerton still lay upon his bed, slow-
ly recovering from his wound, and it had been
a long and close struggle between him and
death.

The coming of her husband that night he had
never spoken of to her, nor referred to his hav-
ing deceived her as he had, although be well
knew that she must be aware of all his treach-
ery.

She had nursed him with devoted kindness,
not only from a kindness of heart. but to try
and ward off thereby any feeling of revange he
might feel, and endeavor to execute, when he
grew better.

      

  
 

I

Pony Bob.

.4,V__,

 

It was easy, so easy, for that faithful nurse
to end his days as he lay helpless there. ‘

A bandage loosened to bring on a hemor-
rhage, a. drop of poison in a dose of medicine,
Would quick y avenge the wrong done her and
her husband, and under existing circumstances,
hardly turn suspicion upon her.

But her heart revolted at the idea, and faith-
fully taking care of the villain through his long
illness, she bided her time, and deteimined to
n wait until her rescue could be made by her
husband.

The delay of the army coming against the

' irmons was prolonged torture to her; but she
resigned herself to me as it was and waited in
patience.

Had she known that her husbani, Brent Hast-
ings. then lay in his grave in the mountains,
oven her nerve and courage could not have held

up.

And this Pony Bob well knew, and for that
reuson had kept the dread secret from her.

Once be freed her from the life sne led, once
he had her, and Eva, away from the Mormons,
and he would break the news ot‘ that sad scene
of her husband’s death.

Finding that the invading army had to go
into winter-quarters, and seeing the long dreary ,
months of watching and waiting before the ‘*
poor woman and beautiful little Eva, Pony Bob
grew almost desperate in his anx1ety to get
ther free.

lie tried his old plan to communicate with
th ‘m, but got no replies to his letter, sent in by f
wood-cart drivers, he handing them to said
drivers, while disguised as u Destroying Angel.

After this he hung about Suit Lake, in deadly
[lul il the while, trying to concoct some plan to
g -t into the lines in safety.

Noticing that several riding parties, evidently
the wives and daughters of prominent Mor-
mons, were in the habit of going outside the
hues for a gallo . he decide-d upon his course of
action, and the }ladies at For“. Bridger quickly
aided him as far as feminine apparel went.

The reader has seen how cleverly he passed
the Mormon sentinel and reached the home of
Mrs. Hastings.

Alarmed as she was at his daring, Mrs. Hast-
i: gs could only say:

“Oh Bobl why did you thus risk your life?”

“ I thought I could run the gantlet, Mrs. Hust-
ings. under false colors.

“ Don’t I make a pretty fair girl?” ,

"You are in too much danger, Bob, to joke ‘
about it, and I am only too thankful that Brent
did not come also; but you must not remain
here long, as Colonel Pinkerton receives many
visitors, now that ho is able to see them, and
those you have most cause to fear may come
in.”

“ It is such a very stormy night hardly any ’
one will venture forth. M'rs. Hastings, and I put I
my pony in your shed out of the cold, so that 3
he is safe.” .

“But Bob, what do you intend to do?” asked ,
the woman, evidently greatly worried. l

“Well, I came to take you and Eva. out with
me.”

“Take us out with you?” asked Mrs. Hast- 
ings in deep surprise. .

. rl-rwwn: .L‘mlm'wrw: ... w n

3.2-“. 7-». ,_

 

"Yes, madam.”
“ But how?"
“I have three fresh ponies hidden away in
the mountains, some fifteen miles from here,
and I thought you and Eva could mount your
horses, I could ride mine, and we would puss
on to the relay, and then go in all haste on the
fresh animals to Fort Bridger, which is a little
overa hundred miles from here right up the
canyons.” ‘
“But how did you expect to leave the town,
Bob?” asked the poor woman with hope in her
heart, arising at a chance of escape.
“ Oh, the guard would certainly not object to
three ladies riding out one pass, you know, to

come in at. nnolhvr, especially as the Mormon'

minute-men would protect them from danger.”

“ Three ladies, Bob!”

“Yes, madam, for you, Eva, and myself
make three.”

In spite of herself. Mrs. Hastings smiled at
the vouth, who continued:

“ I did hope to get herein the afternoon early,
so that we could get out before sunset, but the
storm delayed me.”

“And this storm will last for days, per-
hops?”

“ So it seems. Mrs. Hastings, and I would not
risk your and Eva‘s precious lives by taking
you into the mountains, so will have to give it
up for the present, and perhaps until spring,
for I much fear the snow will not disappear be-
fore then.”

After deciding that to escape in the face of
such a Storm was impossible. Bob ate a hearty

; supper, and with extra wraps furnished him by

Eva. left the house. and mounting his pony,
started upon his return to Fort Bridger, as dan-

gerous an undertaking in fact, as to face his ‘

Mormon foes.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
A FIGHT IN A MIDNIGHT SNOW STORE.
So piercing was the Wind, so drivinglt‘na
snow, that the Mormon sentinel whom .Bob had
passed on his way into town, was shrinking for

shelter so far under the overhanging rocks, and ’

hugging the fire so close, he did not see the shes
dowy form of the pony and his rider go by.
The hardy little pony shrunk from the work

ahead of him, for he seemed to know how far ,

he had to travel; but Bob urged him on, and
partly by the animal’s instinct, and the thin":
remembrance of the trail, they at last rescind

the sheltered nook where the three fresh ponies >

had been left.

It was in a deep canyon, so thoroughly shel- ‘ ‘

tered by overhanging rocks, that the snow (2 id
nolré fall there.

ut Bob was startled as he approached to‘

suddenly discover the glimmer of a fire-light.
What could it mean?
Had his trail been found by Mormon minute-

3 men, and they gone into camp there, consider

inittbe ponies their booty? , ,
ad some of the Destroying Angels tracked

him there, or Were those who had sought refuge

in the canyon some of Johnsnn’s scouts?
Whatever and whoever they were, Bob was

determined to 1059 no time in finding out. and

 

 

.. -- r. 2:;

,A

28

Pony Bob.

 

what was more, he was not going to be robbed
of his ponies.

The snow was still falling and drifting, and
the night bitter cold; but, wrapped up as he
was, and, with the exercise of riding, Pony Bob
felt warm, and was ready for a skirmish if it
had Come to it.

Riding into as 00d a shelter as he could find,
he dismounted
foot closer to the fire.

He had gone but a few rods, when he descried
the fire close under an overhanging rock, and
so protected by the mountain pines that grew
in dense profusion about, that those around it
were not visible to him.

Whoever they were, he felt assured that the
would not expect the owner of the ponies bee
in that storm.

Creeping nearer, Bob, to his surprise saw two ;

Indian warriors huddled up over the fire
In the background were his ponies, and also
the animals ridden by the Indians.

He counted the heads of five ponies, and, as 2

he had three, and there were but two warriors,
he came to the conclusion that they were all.

“ Piutesl” he muttered, for he recognized the
Indians ashelonging to a tribe just then very
hostile to the whites, and whom he had him-
self not Only met before, but had several nar-
row escapes from.

If seen by the Flutes, Pony Bob knew well

that there would be war, and the chances were 5 t

against him.

He did not like the idea of shooting even an
Indian in the back, although he knew the red-
skin would gladly do as much for him if he got
the chance.

Bob was, as I have said a. dead shot, and he
felt that he could depend upon himself and his

1 revolvers, so determined to “flush ” his game.

That is, upon the principle of a good hunts-

man giving his bird to take the wing before

in .
Hgving decided upon this course. Bob drew a
revolver, looked well at the hammer and cap,
and cocking it, stepped boldly forward with a
startling yell upon is lips.
It was so startling that the two warriors tum-
bled over backward from the log upon which

they were seated, and at ones grasped their ‘

weapons, as they rolled to cover in the shelter
of the ines-

But ony Bob had cleared his conscience. of
shooting even a red-skin without warning, and
quickl his revolver flashed twice.

Wit the second shot an arrow cut its way

aim and knocking his weapon from his
hand, while, with a savage yell one of his toes
came bounding toward him.

It was a critical moment for Pony Bob, and
he only wished that he had net been so gener-

, ous.

But his resence of mind did not forsake him,

and his 1e hand held a revolver in an instant,
and it flashed quickly.

But not a second too soon, for the Indian fell
at his ve feet and with an arrow fixed to send
through h 111.

Bob then quickly sprung to cover, for he was
not sure that he was altogether victorious: but

rom his pony, and went on ‘

T he beheld the limmer of a. light ahead.
through Pony Bob‘s right arm, destroying his , g

upon glancing about him closely, be detected
the warrior he had first fired upon lying in a
heap in the edge of the pines, and he felt confi-
dent that he was dead.
As for the second one there was no doubt of
his having gone to the happy hunting-grounds
‘ of his tribe.

The wound in his arm paining him, Pony Bob
boldly made the venture, stepped out from his
‘ govgr and found that the two warriors were

ea .

3 His heart revolted from the act of scalping

them, but he felt that he should do so, to give
their comrades who might see them a lesaon.
and also to make his story of his adventure hold
good in camp, for to kill an lndian, and “ not
bring in his hair,” is set down by plaiusmen as
a “ ghost-story.”

So Bob took the ghastly trophies of his battle,
and then dressed his wound as well as he could.

Anxious to get on as rapidly as possible. be-
: fore the snow became too deep, Bob collected
his ponies, and those of the slain warriors,
heaped the snow over the fallen braves, and,
1 after warming himself and changing his female
attire for his own clothes, he drank a tin-cup of
hot coffee, mounted one of the fresh horses and
started once more through the storm.

For hours he plodded along, changing from
‘ one horse to another, the others following close
1, behind, well knowing it was their only salva-

ion.

| Guided by the outlines of the hills he kept un-
erringly on. until some time after daylight,

‘ when be halted for rest and food.

He dared not tarry long, and again began his
hard struggle.

In one of tho canyons the snow was driven to
the side, leaving the trail clear and here he
i movad at a gallop for miles.

All through the day he toiled,and when night

came on once more be was yet miles away from

i the fort.
But he would not give up, would not halt for
1 rest and to Warm his benumbed limbs, but
, pushed on and on.

His sufferings were intense, and the poor
, dumb brutes seemed utterly tugged out and
‘ half-frozen.
But Bob would not halt, for he knew his only
‘ safety lay in moving.
1 From time to time he would change, and now
ang then push on on foot, to keep from freezing
sti .
At last his resolute pluck was rewarded, for

!

“Fort Bridger! Fort Bridger, ponies!” he
shouted. and urged his tired pony on.
A few more moments of suffering, and nearer

‘ dead than alive, he rode up to the fort, was

challenged by the sentinel, and then taken

, from his horse, for he was powerless to aid him-

seh.

Two of his dumb followers, one of his own,
and one of the Indians’ ponies had dropped out
of the line to die, to freeze, for they could go no
further, could no longer stand that driving
storm, chilling blasts, hunger, and the mad
struggle for life.

Had Fort Bridger been a few miles further
off. the career of the young courier would have

 

 

Pony

 

Bob. ‘ 29'

 

ended that night, and. when the snows of win-
ter had melted away, Pony Bob and his ponies
would have been found together where they
had perished that wild night in Utah.

 

CHAPTER XXX.
A MORMON MYSTERY.

ALL who were in the garrison of Fort
Bridger, that fearful winter, when General
Johnson’s brave little army waited, watched
and suffered there, hiding their time when the
spring would come and Brigham Young and
his f0110wers have to surrender or fight, will
never forget it, and many still live who were
among those heroes.

At last the snows began to melt, and Pony
Bob was one of the first to push toward the
Mormon capital.

Commissioners had been sent out in the mean
time, compromises had been agreed to, and Sat
Luke was to be surrendered to the army.

Through with this news Pony Bob went to
the nearest station, from whence the tidings
could be sent eastward, and his rapid run
through those fastnesses, full of danger, was
known as Pony Bob’s Lightnin Ride.

Brigham Young and his poop e having desert-
ed their stronghold, Pony Bob went with dis-

atches to Governor Durkee. then quartered at

alt Lake City, and found the town wholly de-
serth by those who had held it and defied the
United States Government. ‘

Having delivered his dispatches, Bob mounted
his horse and dashed away directly for the
home of those who had been so constantly in
his thoughts.

The house was closed and appeared to be ut-
terly deswted, and fiob‘s heart sunk as he
thought that poor Mrs. Hastings and Eva had
been taken with the Mormons.

Quickly he searcln-d about the premises, and
was sadly turning away when he heard his
name called.

Instantly he glanced about him, and saw the
slaés of an upper blind move, while a voice
Sill Z

“ Come to the back door, Bob.”

“It is Eva!” he cried, and he fairly bounded
to the designated door, which was soon opened,
and Eva was before him.

But oh, how sad and pale she looked! And he
said:

“ Eva—Eva! what has happened?”

“ Bob, I am all alone, for poor—poor mamma
is dead.”

“Your mother dead, Eva?” gasped Bob.

“ Yes; mammals heart broke when she heard
papa was head.”

“ But, Eva, how did she hear this?”

“ 0h, some of Colonel Pinkerton’s men told
her that they came across a grave in the mount-
ains, and upon a tree by it was cut papa’s name
and the date of his death, which was the night
he left here, and mamma felt that he was
wounded then and died in the bills, but you
would not tell her.”

“I thought it best, Eva.” .
“ It was best. Bob: but momma was sick and

broken-hom'ted, and she just faded away and
died, and we buried her in the snow.”

“ And you, Eva?” asked Bob, brushing a tear
from his eyes.

" Oh, I lived here with the servants, for after
mornma‘s death, the colonel did not come here
muc I.

“But, when Orders came to desert the town,
I hid away on the march, and then came back
here, for I had taken the back door key, and I
knew you would come, Bob; but it was so aw-
ful lonely, and. I have been here two whole
nights.”

“ Poor little Eva; but your troubles are over

know your life will be a happy one.”

But Pony Bob could not read the future, for,
although he got Eva a. home with kind people,
and the future promised well, she disappeared
one night in a most mysterious manner, and
Bob Hashim knew not what fate had befallen

er.

For months he tried to find some trace of her
and failing to do so, was compelled to accept
the theory of those with whom she had lived,
which was that the poor girl, crushed by the
death of her parents, had taken her own life by
springing into some mountain torrent.

Whatever her fate, it remained to Pony Bob
a mystery of Mormon-laud.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
CONCLUSION.

AFTER the close oi? what was known as the
“Mormon War,” Pony Bob, having won a
reputation as a most dashing and daring rider,
and a youth who knew no such thing as fear,
was engaged as P. my Express Rider on an Over-
land trail full of dangers and hardships. ,

His run was from Smith’s Creek to- Fort

through an Indan country, which was also in-
fested with road-agents, and many were the
narrow escapes that he made.

Cold Springs, Sand Springs, Sink of the Course
or Buckleys, and find the station-kee

run 0
the same animal, through an almost waterless
and alkali country. ,
The hardships endured and the dangers met
by the young Pony Rider will never be forgot-
ten by him. and his wild riding and advan-
tures in the Rocky Mountains soon gained for
him the name of “The Reckless Rider of the
Rockies,” an appellation he is remembered by

that tried men souls."
Robert Haslam still lives. a well-to-do man,

 

adweller in an Eastern city, but though leng
ears have gone by since the Mormon War, he

as never forgotten his boyhood lier when he
.was known as the Reckless Rider .ot the
Rockies. _
1 m END.

now, and kind friends will care for you, and I

Churchill, one hundred and thirty miles, =

On several occasions it was Bob’s misfortune V
to ride up to some one of the stations, either . '

1' dead .-
slain 3y Indians or road-agents, and t e horsed, ‘
, and thus be compelled to push on with 1

to this day by old settlers on the overland '
trails of twenty-five years ago in the “times,
s

    

   
  

  

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s IIIL 1'

Admin.
'ih-ulliv

    

’l‘he thdow .h

The Red Ilrolh rhond.

 

Dnme Jnek. Hy '1'. l‘. H.

Iiurrimme lHll. Br J m-ph I"

h lmm

Ili-{r film-h liyll’hllip .

V o D u 004 .

halal Ili‘lile. the h‘hnrpnhooter. 15v liilu'nnl L.
m- 0' '

(‘nhim Bv (‘an J. F. C. :\ luv 5.
” Deluwnre Dlek, thu" Ymmg l n

ale "and. lir W. J.

 

    
 
 

Old Zip

 

Cirfilllt‘l.

“mi ’l‘mu “'oltorn. By W. J. llnmiltnn.

Demlwnod Dirk on D

llnwkcye Hurry. '

The “of Ducllnt.
t

  

".

. [he Crow-K liar.

\\ hauler.

Will Sonic". the Boy Drieriive.
Sol Ginger, the Giant Trflplml.

nu: Yankee; hi‘, The ()(‘enu Outunst.

 

Dll'l". liy (“whim-l Prentiss Ingrnlimn.

l‘filli' l ‘-

Dregon Fol: hr, NM: Whiillca'. I:
J. _ .

 

 

e. lhu (ireni Shut oillm \i’esi.

 

k John. Lnu- Rum] Aim-m.
Pd. «1 'l'crrur.
l‘rnppw'.

' VEve. the Unknown Smut. Iiv linil‘nlw liill.
\Iuk h hum-w l-m. ny cm. .1. n. (1. Mums.
l Demlwood Dlvk'n linirlm.
‘I  IIfioLdL‘I' King. By an (‘mnm-s.

(v orv. 15‘ ll r-'.\‘t.(‘. n.
44 The. wnn -‘ " ” "‘ "W

 
   

Iiy < l.l

 

 

on (‘n ‘
nl. Prentiss lnzrnlmm.

By Albert \‘V. Aiken.
corduruy'clmrlle, the Boy iirnvo, By chWlll’ll L.

 

(i4 lionehlld Roi). By Enlwunl L. “’heelar.

135 Liglhinlngi J oe, lllu Terror of tho l’rniriu. By Capt.
.. ". A1 .uns.

66 K r llalrei'oni. the Woml-ilnwk. By T. C. ilnr-
1mm; 1.

67 Rollo, tln- llny Rnnger. By 011 (‘nnnn-s.

“N lily]. ilu- Hill Miner. 33' l‘:ll\\'lll’d L. \\'heeler.

(i9 Dfiieeiire DieL; ur, 'i‘hu Here in limp. By Charla:
. Ul‘l’lfi.

70 Sure Shoi Seth, ihc llny Riflemnn. By Oll Cnnmu.

T l thrp Noni; or, ’i'h.» Adventures urn Friend ens liny.
By J. Aluxnmlvr l’nilen.

72 The Lion oi'ihe Hen. Ry Allwr. W. Aiken.

78 Photo rroph PM], the Buy slumh. By Edward L.
“'hm- x-I'.

7.; plouylum Page; or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective.
by Chnrlr» Mon 3.

‘ 7." Inland Jim: nr.The i‘vini‘iho Family. By Bruce-

hridge lloinyng (.luvk llnrhnwny).
7G “'uteh-Eye. the Slimluw. ny Edwme L. \Vheeler.
7? Dick Deud Eye, the Buy Smngglur. By Col. 1‘. in-
grnlmm.
78 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Ed. L. Wheeler.
79 'l‘hc.I Dlnek Muninmn . By Cnpinin Mnyuo
Reid nud Frederick “'hilmlmr
H0 Old Fro-4y. lhc Guide. By ’1. C. llnrbnugh.
Si. The Eco Viper; or, The Midahipmnn’: Legacy. By
(Jul. l’. lngrahnm.
‘ th Jones: nr,Tlm (‘npiivcl of the Frontier. By
lwnrd S. l'.ll'
Ni! (‘unndu (, let, the Conniurl'cizur Chief. By Edward
I. 'herler.

 

S2

 

Is.

   

84 1"“. "mm. l’ngc; nr, Tim Dogu'n Diluuhier. By
C.|]vllilll Fri-,ilerit'h \Vliiilnl.er.
85 The Boy “inern. By l-Inlw:.nl S. Ellis.
86 Jnek llnr Iwny in New York. By Bruce-
hrhlgu ili-Inyng. -
87 The "lunar Contain. By (‘01. Prentiu Ingrnhnm-
SH Dendwood Dick in Leudvllle. By Edward L.
\\‘hce of.
89 Bill Ridden, Trnpper. ily Edward S. Ellin.
90 Tippy. the 'l'cxnn; or, The Yuung Champion. By
(qurqu (ilulmm.
1 Mllntmu: Hum, Ihe King 0! Lllu l’lnlnl. By Jun. 15.
llmlur-r, Jr.
92 The "ecu" Bloodhound. Dy Snmnel W. i‘uurce.
93 Phil Ilnrdy, ihe lines Buy. By Chnrlon Morris.
ELL Deadwood Diek up Deteeilve. lly E. L.W|malar.
05 Buck lhlekrmn. Hy (‘npinln J. F. C. Adams.
06 (Elli-Edged Dlek, the Sport l)einriiva. ily E. L.
, \‘heulur.
97 Tlhenfllnek Steed of the Prairies. By Janus»
.. mvnn.
98 The Sea Serpent. By Jnnn Lewis. Q
99 Bonnnzn Dill. lhu .\lnn Trucker. By E. L. Wheeler.
Rvmly l). c. ‘2.
[00 NM. Todd: M, Tlm Fnia n! Lhn Sioux Captive. By
Eiiwnni S. l'IllhA. lieme I)BC. 9.
101 During Duty. the Ynung Bear Killer. By Harry

:1. (lemme. Rexul)’ Dec. 16.

 

!

v

Ik-ndle’n Pocket Library In fur sale by all News.
rlvlilt'l'fl, five cunln pi-r wpv, or lent by mail on recelpl 1-! II:
cents each.

BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishen,‘
08 \Vllilum Street, New York.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

1 Deer-hunter, the Boy Scout oiihe Grant North Woods.
By on Gimmes.
2 Buil’ulo “Hi, from Boyhood to Mnnhood.
rm Inzrulunn. .
8 Kit Curr-on. King nquiili-s. 1;. Albert w. Aiken.
4 Gordon Lllllc, the Buy-interpreter oi the Puwllees. By
Mu'or. li. li. Simhhml.
5 Bru n Adams, 01d Grizzly’s Boy Purl]. By Col.
Prentiss Ingmhmn.
6 Deadwood Dirk us alloy. By Edirnrd L. “’in-eiur.
7 “'lld Bill. the Pistol l'rlnt-e. Ily Cid. l’. lIlL'rnhiIlIl.
S The l’ruirle lluueh. Br Joseph E. Bridger, .Ir.
9 Raving Joe: The llistury oi as “ Border Boy." By A.
. on.
10 Texus Junk. the Must-In: Kin; By Col. P. Inlzrnhum.
ll Charley Skylurk. A'Slnrv ni'Srhool-duy Scrnpus und
Cniiugn cums. lly l\l:I_)(\I‘ H. n. swam-.1.
12 Mnrlposu Marsh. iiy Jose h E. Budgur, Jr.
18 Roving lieu. lir John .I. h urshnll.
14 H rim: Steel, King of the liush. lly J. E. Budgrr, Jr.
15 Idle-Awake George, the Boy Pioneer. By Edward
all.
16 The Boy “'lzursl. Br Burrv Ringzold.
17 l’leqter genpergruss, llle Greenhorn from Gntllmn.
0" l

By(‘ol. l’ren-

By
ul .

18 Adrift on the I’rulrle. and Amateur Hunter.-
on the lluifnlo Runge. By Ull Coonios.

19 The Fortune Hunter; or, Roving Jnn us Minor,
Cowboy, Tram-er and Hunter. By A. ll. Post.

20 Tim per Tom, ths \Vond Imp. By 'I‘. C. Hurbuuzh.

21 Yel ow "air, the Buy Chiei‘of the Fairness. By Col.
Prentiss lng'rrnhmn.

92 The Snow rull. B ' T. C. Hurbnngh.

38 01,11 Glrllzzly Aduuus, the Bear Tamer. By Dr. Frnnk

0W6 .

24 Wood! and Wuters. Ily Cunt. Fr drrick Whittaker.

25 A Rollin Stone: lnridents in the Cnreur on Sun nnrl
Land oi oi. Prentiss lnzmhmn. By Wm. it. Eyster.

26 Red River Ilove' II. By C. Dunning Cimk.

3‘? Plaza unli_l’luln: or. Wild Adventures of ” Bnrkskln
Sum." (Mn . Sam. 5. Hull.) liy Col. I’. luurnh'llu.

28 The Swor Prince. The Rmnmnic Life ot'Col. .\Ion~
stery. By Cunt. Franierich Whittiher.

29 Snow-Shoe 10m. By '1'. C. Hurhnuuh.

80 Paul de Lney, the French Benn. Clmrmer. By C.
Dunning: Clark.

81 Round the Cnmp Fire. Bv Jnsenh E. Iindizrr. Jr.

82 \Vhlte Bearer. the Indian Medicine Chief. By Col.
Prentiss lnnrnhmn,

83 The Boy Ont-ruler. By (Tam. Fred. Whlltnher.

84 The Chm-e oi the Grout “’hite Stag. nnd, Camp
untl Canoe. ilv C. Dun nluz Clnrk.

85 0M Tur knuckle and His Boy Chums. Dy
Rf)ng Stnrhuck.

86 The Dushlmr Drugoon; or, The Story of Gen. George
A. Custer. liy Cunt. Frml, thilluknr.

B? Nluht-Iluwk Gen": . Iiy Cnl. Prentiss Ingruhmu.

88 The Boy Exlles ol'h )eriu. By T. C. Hurlmnuh.

89 The Young “our Hunters. lly Morris Iii-diving.

40 sworttsnn, thn Lad with uLevsl Henri. lly Edwnrd

I at.

41 The Hl-ttler’l Son. By Edward S. Ellis.

42 “'ult Fer mum’s Cruise. By C. Dunnlmz Clark.

43 Rifle and levelver. By Capt. Fred. Whiuuhur.

44 The Lost Boy “'hulers. By T. C. Hsrhungh.

45 Bronco Billy, the Suddla Prince. By Col. Prentiss
lnurnhuul.

46 Dick, the fitowuwoy. Bv Charles Morris.

4': T” Oolorudo Boys; or, Life on on Indigo Pluntntion.

Joseph E. liudzer, Jr.

48 The l’ulnnus Hunters: or, New York Ilnys in
liuenos Ayres. lly T. {7. llnri-nuszh.

49 The Adventurous Life of Nebrasku Charlie.
By C01. Prentiss Ingrnhmn.

50 Jack Ilnrry uml Tom. the Thres Chompion Brothers.

By dupt. Frsrl. Whitmkor.

51; The Young Luml-Lubber. By C. D. Clnrlr.
52 The Boy "electives. By T. C. Hnrbnugh.

53 Iloueet llurr ; or. The Country Boy Adrift in the
City. liy Chm- es Morris.
54 Cnlll‘ornln Joe, the Mysterious Plsinsmsn.

B C l.
Prentiss lng'rn um. y o

 

55 Tip Tressel. the Floater. By Edward Wiliclt.
56 The Snow Hunters; or, Wintorin the Woods. By
liurry iii; Forrest.
5’? llurry Samara, the Sullor Buy Mngiciun. By S. W.
l’euxre.
58 The Adrenturoun Lli'e oi‘CuPtnin Jack, the
Border liny. liy Col. l’roulirs lngrn rum.
59 Lsuue Tins, the Mule lloyoi' the Mines. liy Clmrh-s
Morris.
60 The Young Trnll Hunters; or, New York Boys in
Grizzly Land. By '1‘. C. llnrbuugh.
61 The Tiger llunters; or,The Colorado Boys in Ele-
phnnt Lima. ny Josqih r1. lillllizul', Jr.
02 Doctor Carver, thu “Evil Spirit. ” of the Pluins.
Col. Prentiss lngrnluun.
68 Black Horse Bill, the lhmdlt Wrecker.
Sturhuck.
64 Young Dick Talbot; or. A Boy's Rough and Tumble
Fight from New York to California. By A. W. Aiken.
65 The Rev Pilot; or,Thu Island Wrecker. By Col.
Prentiss lngruhnm.
66 The Desert Rover; nr,Stownwsy Dick Among the
rubs. 15y Churles Morris.
6's" Texas Charlie, the Boy Ranger.
lngruhnm.
68 thtle Rlfle; or, Tho Young Fur Hunters. By Cupinin
“Bruin ” Adums.
69 The Young Nlhlllstt or, AYnnkee Boy Among the
Russians. By Chnrles Morris.
70 Pony the Cowboy or, The Young Morshull’s Ruinl.
By A Injnr II. it. Stndn nrd. l'Ix-Scout.
Tl Ru? Robnurt and Ill: lleur. By Cnptuin “ lh-uin "
i (Hill.
72 The Ice Elephunt.
78 The You" Moone- Hunters.
Manning. emly September 5.
74 The Boy Corul - Fllllt‘rfl.
75 Revolver Billy, the liny Ilungcr of Texas.
Prentiss Ingruhmn.
76 The Condor Klllers. lly T. C. IIurhnngh.
7? Lud Llonheels, the Young Tiger Fighter. By Roger
Sturbuck.
18 Flutbont Fred. By Edwnrd wmm. Randy Oct. 10.
79 Boone. the Huntur. By Cnptuin F. Whittaker.
80 Keutl ky lieu, the Lung liltle o! the Cuscmlus. Ily
linger tun-buck.
81 The Kit Curson Club. By T. C. Hurbnugh.
82 Little Buck. the [lay Gulds. Ily Burry Ringgnld.
83 Pony Bob, the Reckless Rider of ths Rochiss. By Cul.
Prentiss lngruhnin.
84 Cnptuln Fly-by-l'lght. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
- Randy Nov. 91.
85 Cuptuln Ralph, the Young Explorer. By C. D. Clark.
Randy Nov. 98.
88 Lgtle5 Dun Books. By Morris Redwing. Rudy
ec. .

By

By Roger

By Col. Prentiss

Iiy (‘an Frederick \‘l'lllliukrr. I
liy Willian II.

By R. gor Sturhuch.
Ily Col.

8’? The Meungerie Hunters. By Muj. H. Grenville.
Ready Dec. 19.

88 The Boy Trnm s: or. Life Among the Glpsles.

By
J. M. Huffman. early Dec. 19.

89 ’Longshore Lije. By C. D.Clork. Ready Dec. 96.

Beadle’s Boy’s Library In for rule hy nll Newsdenlen,
five cents per copy, or sent by mull on receipt of six cents each.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
98 William Street, New York.