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Copyrightml, [5:50, by Blur-u AND AhAnm. Enterml :n, um l’usv. Ulficu at. New Yurk, N. Y., m! Sucund (film’s Mail Mutter. July 3, 1531i.
$2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, hm
Vol. IX. ' No. 116.

n "w"- No. 1 , WILLIAM ST.. NEW Yonx. “"5 09"“-

 

Expégits Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman;

Or, Mad Anthony’s Kentucky Rangers.

BY EMERSON RODMAN.

 

A,_.,.._._._\.

“1! YOU com: A roor nmmz, I'LL mow numenr wnnouau YOU. YOU mrmu moors!"

 

 

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman.

  

 

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith.

THE BACKWOODSMAN;

on,
glad Anthony’s Kentucky Rangers.

BY EMERSON RODMAN. ‘

CHAPTER I.
commas or arm: FOREST.

WHAOW dew you dew, Cap?"

'“ Fine, yer honor; and how is yerself?”

A tall, spare specimen of the backwoodsman,
who was sitting by a smoldering camp-fire,
had arisen and grasped the hand of a genial-
faced Irishman, who was also clad in the habili-
ments of the forest.

“My name is Smith, Hezekiah Smith,” said
the former. “What is yours?”

“Pat Mulroony, lately from Tipperary, Ire-
land, may it pi’ase yer honor.”

“ Haow did you—how was it you came to find
me, if I may be allowed to inquire?” asked
Smith, peering round in his face.

“I was jist thraveling through the forest,
when I spied the shmnke of fire, and says I to
meself, says I, ‘There’s nyther some green
youngster, or a band of haythen, as doesn’t
care who saas their camp~flre,’ and with that, I
pokes around in the wood till I spies ou cook-
in’ your legs over the blaze, when I news by
the swate expression of yer countenance,
that ye was a gintleman, and, bedad, I finds I
was right.”

“What might you be doing? What‘s your
business?” pursued Smith, laboring under a
great curiosity.

“Faith, I’m an adventaorer, as the convict
said. I’ve been wanderin’ in these parts for
siveral wakes without catchin’ glimpse of a
white skin, till I came upon you.”

“That ain’t what I mean. What brought
you out here in the first lace?”

“ Me legs,” replied the rishman, decidedly.

“Just so, just so; if you’ve no objection, I’d
like to know your motive, not meaning any of-
fense at all.”

“ Be orra, but ye’re axin’ too much,” replied
Pat, With a shake of his head. “Nivir ye mind
the indoocement that I has for taking to the
woods. It I may be so bold, what was the
same motive that brought yerself here?"

“Nothing in particular—nothing in particu-
lar,” replied Smith, as if the subject was dis-
tasteful to him.

It was plain that both of these characters had
a secret history—a history which each deter-
mined should remain a. secret with himself.
The short conversation recorded above had
been sufficient for this fact to become evident
toboth, and as if by mutual consent, neither
made any further reference to it. It sufficed

that they were white, civilized beings, wan-
derers in a. dangerous territory, where neither,
for an hour, could be assured of his own safety,
and where both lacked the great safeguard of

 

 

experience. This was enough to make them
firm and fast friends at once.

“Are on baound up or down the river?"
queried ezekiah Smith, referring to the Ohio,
which was but a few hundred yards distant.

“Faith, it’s little difference where I’m
bound, as the man said when the haythen In-
jufigound him to the stake. How is it wid yer-
se

“ I’m goin’ daown.”

“ So is meself, if ye’s willin’ to accept of mo

comfany.”
“ ’m right glad to have you, for I care
mighty little abaout goin’ much further in this
all—fired country, without some one to keep me
company. It’s the omc’rest piece of country I
ever see’d in all my born days.”

“As we agraas so well on the principles be
the same token, we’ll agraa on the artic’lars.
I’m thinkin’ I’ve seen more of this country
pra’ps than ye has yerself, but it’s mighty 1min

’ve seen, after all. But, be the howly powi '1,
it’s meself knows enough not to kindle a fire in
broad daylight in these pa rts.”

“ But, Pat, s’pose you fall in the creek and get
wet, as I did, how, in the name of human na-
ture are you to dry yourself?”

“ bry yourself, is it?” repeated the Irishman
surveying his friend from head to feat; “and
Wh'it is it ye wishes to dry yerself fur? Bedad,
you’ll find, if you’re long in these parts,
you’ll have to go wet and hungry more than
once.”

“About what time do you suppose it might
be?" asked Hezekiah Smith, after a moment’s
pause.

Pat Mulroony squinted one eye up to the sky
as if he was looking at the face of a clock, and
answered:

“ It lacks an hour or so yet of noon.
cravin’ something to ate?”

“ 0h ginger, no! S’pose we set out upon our
journey, as I don’t exactly see how we’re goin’
to gain anytbin by stan ‘ng here?”

“ Who laids t 9 way?”

“I‘ll follow you, as you know more of the
woods than I do.’

Pat Mulroony struck out toward the Ohio
river, closely followed by Hezekiah Smith.
Each took long, regular strides, frequently
snapping the twigs beneath their feet in spite of
the care and caution exercised by each.

They were two noticeable persons as they thus
pressed forward each with alon , beautifulrifle
slung over his shoulder, and one attired in a
demi-savage dress. The New Englander, being
some five or six inches the taller, was constant] y
peering over the shoulders of his leader, his cu-
riosity being almost sufficient several times to
make him take the lead himself.

They had walked Some distance, when Heze-
kiah caught the shimmer of water through the
3:93, and knew they were approaching the

10.

Movin several rd- further, “10! We" 31‘
most upgm the bag, when Pat .Mulroony fell
flat upon his face as suddenly as if his icet had
been tripped from beneath, and Smlth, porter-tn
ly dumfounded at this curious movement,
gazed bewildered at him for_a second. Then
thinking he had fallen and inaured himself. he

Are ye

  

   

   

 

/

Exploits of Hezekiah Sinith, the Backwoodlmn. ‘ ,3 ..

 

stooped to assist him to his feet. Motionlng
him 011, Pat spoke rapidly, in a ghostly whis«
per:

“ Drop down on yer face! hide quickl Down
wid ye! quick] quick] the devxl himself is
coming down the river."

This overwhelming intelligence caused Heze-
kiah also to “come down,” as suddenly as the
Irishman, and for a moment nothing but the
deep breathing of each could have been heard.
But at the end of that time, the curiosity of
Smith began to Show itself.

“ that does he look like, Put?”

“ Did you ever set eyes on a tappin-snarklei”

“ Yes; one of them once bit half of my big
toe off, when I was wadin’ in a. mill-pond.”

“ Well, bedad, when I cotched a glimpse of
him, he looked like a tappin-snarkle, as big as a.
house.”

The curiosity of Hezekiah Smith was roused
to its highest pitch. Such a dreadful monster
as had been seen by the Irishman, if coming
down the river, must soon pass before his view
also' and he accordineg lifted his head slowly,
until he had raised it and his shoulders perhaps
a. couple of fact, when he suddenly dropped it
again, as if a thousand-pound weight had fallen
upon his head.

“ Did ye see it?” inquired Pat, not daring to
lift his own head.

“No; but I was afraid it might see me,”
replied Hezekiah, slowly raising his head
agtun.

Taking courage from his immunity, Pat Mul-
roony gradually straightcned his arm until he
had brought his head nearly on a level with his
companion’s, when they both looked long and
searchingly through the trees, but without dis-
covering the satanic personage that had been
announced. ‘

While gazing thus, a sudden rushing sound
was heard, and the heads of our two friends
dropped so suddenly that Hezekiah hit his
tongue sorely, and the chin of the Irishman
dented far into the earth.

“Jerusalem! he hadn’t wings, had he?” asked
Hezekiah, turning his face around so as to speak
to the Irishman. .

“H_e was addlln’ when I saw him, and was
too biglto It among the trees here— Howly
mother! there he comes ag’in l”

As he spoke, several quails sped overhead
with that whirring noise peculiar to the bird.
This explained the cause of their fright.

Familiarity with danger breeds contempt,
and our two friends, gathering courage every
moment, again raised their heads, and looked
steadily and unflinchingly out among the trees
upon the river. And while thus engaged, they
saw what at first appeared to he a small house
floating down the river. As it drifted slowly
past, the two rose to their feet, and ventured
nearer the shore.

“Oh, thunder!” exclaimed Hezekiah Smith,
with a sigh of relief, “ that’s what they call a

tboat.”

“How do you know?” asked Pat; “ e says
ye have never been in these parts, and ow do
you know what one is?”

 

Otlllt down the river, and they looked just like
1: at.

“Be jabersl it it’s a flatboat there must be
some one aboard of it,” added Pat, his counte-
nance lighting up; “and if there’s some one
aboard or it, be the same token, there’sa chance
of our getting down the rivar.”

Hopeful and joyous, both scrambled head-
long down the bank with the brilliant idea in
their heads. The flatboat was in the center of
the current, and had the appearance of a
square box; or, perhaps, a better idea: of it
could be given by comparing it to a cabinrest-
ing upon a scow, whose gunwales ran higher
than usual on every side. A long, sweeping
oar was hung at either end, for the purpose of
keeping the vessel in the channel, and guiding
it through eddies and dangerous passages_in
the river. Not a. living soul upon it was V151-

B.

“ Drat the luck I” exclaimed Hezekiah Smith,
after stumbling along the shore (or several min-
utes.

“Be the powers, but we’ll board the craft,
and take possession l” ‘

Hezekiah caught at the idea, and had already
stepped into the water to carry it into execu-

tion, when Pat, with an exclamation o! aston- r

iwment and alarm, caught him by the ghoul--
der and drew him back. ’

 

CHAPTER II.
BOARDING THE mmoar.

THE cause of Pat’s alarm was immediately .

manifest to Hezekiah. The head and shoulders
of a man were visible on the flatboat, as was
also the muzzle of a rifle he held in his hand.
Thinking he was about to speak or fire, our two
friends drew back and waited for his words.

To their surprise, however, his head almost im- , ‘

mediater disappeared, and their most ur ent

calls and entreaties could not induce him to s ow, ‘ .

himself again. , , - ,

By this time, the flatboat had drifted some
distance below them, and they ran down- the
bank so as to recover their lost ound. ‘

“We’ve got to board it,” said Patna they
took their station.

“ How is it to he done?” _

“Why, you 5151: wade out and climb up the
side.” ~

“ And what are on going to do?” '

“ I’ll stay on the k to cover your retrate if.
you gits licked.” / .

“Cover my retreat,” repeated Hezekiah, as if
he found it difficult to understand the exact
meaning of his friend. . ‘

“Suppose that man fires at me and kills

)9

“Be that token, Pat Mulroony will consider
that it’s dangerous for him to follow yees, and
will retrate, like a wise gineral, into the
woods.”

Hezekiah still debated whether it was his
duty to run such a risk for the benefit of 'his

. companion or not. but finally compromised the

matter by oflering to carry. him upon his

l b k.
, “When I was at Pittsburz. I seen two set l El31119 water ain’t very W.” said he. “out

 

   

'A»

 

4

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman.

  

 

as my legs are a ard or two the longest, I‘ll
keep you dry, an you’ll run the same chance
of being struck that I will." I’

“ It’s a bargain,” said Pat, immediately
mounting the buck of Hezekiah.

For the convenience of the latter, the Irish-
man took the guns of both, and with his heavy
load upon his back, Hezekiah Smith stepped
cautiously into the river. He had entered it
some distance below the flat-boat, so that he
would have no trouble in intercepting it, and
he now strided as rapidly as possible through
the water.

'He had gone perhaps two-thirds of the dis-
tance, and the water reached almost to his
waist, when the head of the man on the flat
boat again appeared, and pointing his rifle over
it, he called out: '

“What do you mean by coming out here?
I’ll give you 'ust two seconds to reach the shore
again, and i you come a foot nearer, I’ll blow
daylight through you, you infernal decoys!”

Instead of turning round and retreating,
Hezekiah ducked his head at this sudden corn-
mand, so as to bring the Irishman as a sort of
shield before him. Throwing him too far for-
ward, the consequence was. that Pat went com-
pletely over his head into the water. At sight
of this discomflture of both, the man in thfi)
flatboat evidently concluded their presence
could be of little danger to him, and accords
ingly called out:

“ Come out to the boat, and I’ll help you on
board.”

“ Murtherl Can’t ye pick us up?” cried Pat,
floundering through the water. it being very
manifest that such a feet, under the circum-
stances, was impossible, our two friends made
the best of ther way forward, and upon reach-
ing the side of the boat were assisted on board
by the man who, a few minutes before, had or-
dered them away so peremptoril y.

“Who are you?” he demanded, as soon as
they had recovered breath. .

‘ Patrick Mulroony, from Tipperary, Ire-
land, at our service, sir.”

“ 2e iah Smith, also.”

“ sn’t there any one else ashore i”

“Not that we knows of. Are you the only
one on these premises?" .

‘LNO, sir, you will see my companions short-

The speaker was a young man of rather pre-
possessing address, one who, to judge from up-
pearances, was as much a stranger in these
wilds, as our two friends: who have been al-
ready introduced to the reader.

He was attired in a plain, homespun dress,
such as, at the period of which we write, ware
more often seen in civilized communities. than
as far West as this portion of the Ohio. He had
a keen, black eye, dark, flowinghair a pleasant
race, considerably embrowned, and hearing the
unmistakable im ress of a firm will, and iron
determination. e scanned his visitors as they
came aboard. and seemed to gather from a
glance their chargcter. _

“ you’ve no objection, what might be your
name?’ asked Hezekiah, in his gentle, insniu-
sting voice.

“Luther Warinfl.” ,

 

"Eh, yes, ust so; glad to hear. Ain’t mar<
tied, now, I are say?”

,“ No, sir.”

“ Might be engaged, perhaps?”

_ “Yes; to tell the truth, I am,” replied War-
ing, “and, if I ever get safely through this in-
fernal Indian country, down to the settlements,
I’ll be married."

“there might the—where might the lady be
now?” pursued Hezekiah evidently determined
to get all he could out of Waring.

“ She and her father are in the cabin, and, I
sup ose, will soon show themselves.”

“ Vhat might be her name, now—that is, if
you have no objection to telling me?”

“Certainly not,” laughed W'nring. “She is
from the same village that I have left; and her
name is Virginia; daughter of Mr. George
Lander. Anything else that I can impart!”

“ You are bound to the settlement, down the
river,I suppose!” , .

“ I have hinted as much; yes, that is our des-
tination.”

Hezekiah paused at this point, as he seemed
to have run out of questions, Seeing which, Pat
Mulroony whispered:

“ Begorra, ye isn’t going to sthop in this
place, be yeesi”

The quernlous New Englander placed the
stock of his rifle a few inches from his feet, and
holding his arms over the muzzle, seemed to be
engaged in a deep study for a. few moments.
Suddenly, slinging his right leg around the
other, so that it rested upon the tip of the foot,
he turned his beaming face toward Waring and
continued:

“ Is the gal good-looking, now?”

Waring laughed outright.

“You shall be the judge, if you only wait a.
few minutes.”

“Of course—of course—I only asked to—that
is, I just asked—”

“ To find out,” put in Pet, with a. comical ex-
pression, as he looked down and survayed his
clinging garments.

“ Do you wish to change your clothes?” asked
Waring, who had noticed the furtive glance of
the Irishman.

“There bein’ ladies in the neighborhood,
p’rhaps they might ’hjact, as, be the token that
we have no clouthes to put on, our costume
would be rather picturesque. as the man said
when he came out from the river, and found a.
cow had ate up his garments.”

“We can furnish you with something, I
think.”

“ It’s entirely unnecessary, entirely unneces-
sary,” said Hezekiah, with a graceful wave of
his hand. “The water is not cold at all, and
the bathing was quite pleasant. But. I was go-
ing t? ask whether the Indians had troubled you
yet?

“ If you had examined the side of the boat as
you came up, you would have seen several bul-
lets imbeddod in it. They were fired by Iii-
dians.” ,

“ Deu tell 1” gasped Hezekiah. _

“Wepnid n‘o heed to them at first, in the
hopes that they would leava us, when they found
we were aware of their motives; but, as they
kept following us. Mr. Lander and myself sent

,

   

 

 

 

  
   
  
  
 

  

 

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman. 5

seVeral shots among them, that made them
how], and send volley after volloy after us in
return.”

“ They didn’t kill yer?"

“They did no damage, as our boats were con-
structed with a knowledge of all the exigencies
that might arise. How is it with yourselves?”

“ I haven’t seen an Indian in a long time,” re-
plied Hezekiah; “ but I have smelt their camp-
fires several times.”

“ I’ve saan plenty of the haythen,”added Pat,
“ but have given them a wide barth, and so l’m
pl’ased to state, I’ve suffered no harm up to this
point in the prosadings.”

“ I have never been in this part of the coun-
try before,” said Waring, speaking in a more
serious tone than he had used thus far; “ but I
am aware of the perils and dangers that encom-
pass us. Our immunity from danger thus far
leads me to hope for the best, as, from the
knowledge that I gained before starting, the
settlement, which is our destination, cannot be
more than twenty miles distant, near enough
for us to reach it to—morrow, if nothing unex-
pected occurs. I must say, however, I am filled
with considerable misgivings. We are in the
most dangerous point of the river; and I cannot
help thinking that the crisis will come to—night.
I run indeed glad that you two have come on
board.”

“Thunder! so am I,” said Hezekiah, “ for I
was lost in the woods, and was beginning to get
seurt. We are bound with you for the settle-
ment. Hellol”

At this juncture the cabin-door opened and a
man, some sixty years of ago, made his appear-
ance. He was very gray, with a feeble, attenu-
ated frame, and the air of one who, for years,
had not seen a day of perfect health.

Waring immediately introduced him to the
Irishman and New Englander, the former
grasping him heartily by the hands, and the lat-
ter scraging his feet very elaborately, as he re-
relurne his pressure.

The face of the elderly personage was care-
worn, and he spoke but a few words, merely
expressing his pleasure at meeting his two
friends when he returned to the cabin.

Hezekiah Smith was just on the point of ask-
ing a question concerning him, when the cabin-
door again opened and Virginia Lander made
her appearance. She had the same black eyes

‘ and hair as her lover—a bright, hopeful expres-

sion of countenance. singularly in contrast with
that of her parent, and a nervous restlessness of
manner, such as is often seen in the mere child.
She was not beautiful, but she was handsome,
and inspired every one in her favor. Waring
immediately introduced her, as he had her
father. Hezekiah retreated a step or two, lifted
his hat from his head, and was just in the act
of making another sweeping scrape with his
foot, when she brought these preparations to an
end by taking his handnspeaking her leasure,
and turning to the Irishman, and oing the
some.

“Extremely happy to meet you,” said Heze-
kiah. “If you’ve no objection, I would like to
know—"

“ Be the powers! but look yonder iistl” inter-

 

rupted Pat, pointing down the river.
does that mane?” ,

Waring had already caught sight of thesus-
picions object and turned to Hezekiah.

“What do you make of it?”

“ A lot of Indians, as sure as thunder

CHAPTER III. .
THE SHADOW or DANGER.

“IT’S a canoe—one of them infernal Indian
ones,” added Hezekiah. “I know enough of
’em to be sure of it.”

The object in question was close under the
Ohio shore, and at the distance when first seen,
might have been mistaken foracommon log;
but Waring, who had learned to regard every
such manifestation with suspicion in the Indian
country, was convinced that it was something
more the instant he caught a glimpse of it.
B sides, Hezekiah was positive, and if any indi-
vidual was competent to judge in regard to the ,
identity of such a vessel, his experience, as re- ‘

 

lated at the commencement of this tale, should i " i

l certainly have pointed him out as that man.

If there were any lingering doubts in the
minds of the whites, they were instantly set at
rest by seeing the canoe put out from the shore,
and head across toward the Kentucky bank.

The tufted heads of three Indians were visible, ' ~

and their paddles flashed brightly in the sun-
light, as the frail vessel shot swiftly over the
surface of the water. '

“ I didn’t mane to alarm yees, but mening‘no
ofiince to the iligant lady present, might I vin-
ture to suggest in the mildest terms possible,
there’d bist be none but mm on deck jist now.” .

“He is right,” said Waring, in a lowsr tone
to our heroine, “it is best that you go below.”

“I will do so, if you think I should," she re~
plied, suiting her action to her word. “ Do you
wish father to come no?” '

“There is no need of it.” .

The girl closed the door and Waring turned
toward his friends.

By this time the canoe had nearly crossed the, 3 I f

stream. A few moments later it glided under
the Kentucky banks and three Indians sprung
out.

i .

It was with peculiar emotions that the in- r ‘

mates of the flatboat gradually came opposite
this canoe. They had just seen three of their
deadly enemies withdraw under the protection
of the shrubbery and undergrowth of the shore,
and they had every reason to believe that
there were others in the vicinity.

“ It can’t be that they are friendly,” suggest-

ed Wnring, who was all but certain that such I ‘

could not be the case. «

“Friendly divilsl” repeated Pat Mulroony.
“ Every mother’s son of ’em is in the war-paint,
and they’d sooner scalp all of us, not barring
the lady—God bless her. Talk of friendly Injins
in this art of the worrnldl”

By [His time, the flatbeat was opposite the,
canoe, whose stern could be distinctly seen ,
underneath the dense shrubbery that lined the
bank. The conVersation ceased of its own ac-
cord. and the three men carefully lowered their
heads, so'that no stray shot could reach them.
In the sides of the boat were one or two small

ll!

'7(

\,,

 

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the BackWOOdamam

 

orifices, which Waring had had perforated for

the purpose of gazing out, just at such times as
these, and our friends used them on this occa-
slon.

Looking out, Hezekiah discerned through the
interstices of the undergrowth the forms of two
crouching Indians, their eyes glowing, their
faces all agleam with ferocity, and thlll‘ be-
daubed visages ten times more horrid in appear-
ance than he could havo dreamed it possible for
a human being to be.

When just fairly abreast of them, a. jet of
fire was seen to flash among the shrubbery. and
as the shnr report of a. rifle broke the stillness
of the WO 5, a. bullet grated over the top of
the flatboat, and was plainly heard by all, asit
plainly cut its way through the leaves on the
opposite side of the river, with that peculiar
zip-zip made by the rapid passage of a stone or
other ob ect thron h the trees of a forest.

“ By 1; e Howly irginltake that!” exclaimed
Pat, springing u and discharging his rifle at
the spot where a saw, the faint; wreath of
smoke curling upward. “ How does that fatal?”

“The haven’t felt it at all,” whispered War-
ing. “ ecareful and keep your head out of
sight, or you’ll be struck.”

“How do you know he wasn’t struck?” de-
manded Pat, in high durlgeon. “Did you see
the passage of the bullet?" '

“A wild Indian always yells when a bullet
hits him, and they havon’t made the least
noise.”

“ Begorral but you’re right. I’ve struck a.
red-skin afore today, and he always screamed
like a painter. It was an uncomfortably close
rub, faith, for all that.”

Both shores were closely scanned, but nothing
more of the savages was seen; and after drift-
ing halfamile or so down-stream, our three
‘friends ventured occasionally to show their
heads to any who might be lingering along the
banks. This, however, was a dangerous pro-
ceeding almost at any time, and as there was
' no necessity for it, it was not often done by any

’ of the three. The reason why Waring was not

visible when Hezekiah and Pat first hailed the
flatboat, was not because he did not see or hear
them but because he had prudence enough to
keep himself out of sight.
‘ By this time the afternoon was considerably
advanced and Waring invited his two friends
to descend into the cabin and partake of the
. dinner, which Virginia Lander had just an-
nounced.

“And who stays above, if I may be allowed
to ask?" inquired Hezekiah, with an anxious ex-
pression of countenance.

“I do myself; have no apprehension upon

'_ that score.”

His alarm thus quieted, Hezekiah hesitated no

1 r. . '
Oilfiethe cabin he found a plain substantial

meal prepared, to which he, Pat, Mr. Lender,
and our heroine seated themselves. The elderly
onage besought the blessing of God upon the
3553 3 read before them, and spoke not another
word nrlng the meal. . _
Great as was Hezekiah’s hunger, his curi-
zreat. and. accordingly. as

031w was

 

 

ha masticated the food, he kept his e as rolling
continuall about him in search of {nowledgm
He notice that the cabin was divided into two
compartments, one‘ of which be naturally con-
cluded was devoted to the exclusive use of the
young lady who presided at the table. Several
times he was on the point of asking permission
to take a look into this. But his sense of pro-
priety prevented him, and he devoured his victr
uals in silence. ,

As for Pat, he was huugry~that was suf-
ficient. Excepting the food itself, nothing pre-
sented the least attraction to him. and be de-
voured this with a gusto that put to shame the
achievements of the others.

The meal finished, the two returned to the
deck, and took the place of Waring, while he
partook of his dinner. As our friends looked
out upon the still, solemn forest, and the placid,
unrufiled river, down which they were so noise-
lessly gliding, they could hardly realize that
the profound silence that then held reign was
as treacherous as the calm which precedes the
marshaling of the storm-king’s forces upon the
ocean. And yet they well knew that within
the depths of this wilderness lurked the Indian,
whose life was devoted to the one object of ex-
terminating the white race; that he was as
cunning and crafty as years of war and blood-
shed could make him, and that no means would
be left untried to encompass the death of them-
selves nnd those with them.

“Hezekiah,” said Pat, upon whom this impres-
sive scene had not been entirely lost: “ have
you ever been in these parts before?”

“Never in all my born days, and I wish to
Heaven I wasn’t here now.”

“What’s the trouble now? Begorra, ye isn’t
scurt. be yees?”

“ Yes. Pat I ain‘t ashamed to own it-I am
scart. I tell on, ’twixt you and me, there’s
danger hangin over this craft. I can smell it
in the air, I can feel it in my bones. If we
don’t see trouble afore to-morrow morning,
then I’m most mightily mistaken.”

“I incline to the some opinion, though I
wouldn’t be saying it afore the lady down
there, and frightenin’ the wits out of her. I’d
like to know, be the same token. what that old
curmudgeon is doin’ on this boat?”

“ You mean the old man? I should think it
would be the last place for him. Never mind,
Put, let come what will, you and I stick to-
gether, don‘t we?”

“ Of course we do.”

There is nothing that will make friends as
soon as a sense of impending danger hanging
over both. Let two entire strangers meet un-
der circumstances like these, and in ten minutes
they will be on as good terms, and devoted to
each other, as though they had been bosom
friends for a dozan years. The cause of this is
vefiy plain—it is the interest of both to be so.

ezekinh thought he had never met so fine a
follow as Pat Mulroony: one, whose kindness of
heart was so great, and whose friendship was
disinterested; and as for the Celt, although he
did not express himself thus, his opinion of the
New Englander was very nearly the same.

“ You asked awhile ago." said Hezekiah. after

I /

  

 

  
  
 

  

 

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Exploit. of Hezekiah Smith. the Backwoodsman. 7

 

a moment‘s pause, “ whether I had ever been in

1 these parts. If you have no ob'ection, I should

like to know whether you have con herel”

“ Yes, I was about this place last summer
with a party, but we didn’t go any further
down the river."

“ I understood that you were further west
than you had ever been before; but then I
might have been mistaken.
joction, I should like to hear the particulars of
your Visit.”

“ Can’t tell it now,” replied the Irishman, as
though the subject were distasteful to him.

At this moment Waring made his appear-
ance, and was shortly followed 1) Mr. Lander,
who, taking a seat near the cabin, maintained
a strict silence during the conversation of the
others.

Hezekiah merely glanced at the young man,
and saw, as if by instinct, that the same sense of
impending danger that so troubled himself,
was shared by him also. There was an anxious
expression upon his countenance that he had
not seen there before; a certain restless ner-
vousness in his manner, which he sought in vain
to conceal. _ '

“ We are going to have a dark night of it,”
said be, looking up to the sky.

“As dark as Egypt,” added Hezekiah. “I
recollect that I nearly battered my brains out,
last night, in trying to walk through the
woods.”

“ The moon will not be up till three o'clock‘in
the morning, and, I might as well be plain With
you, friends, it will be life and death With us
before that time.”

“Just what we’re thinkin’. Drat the Indians,”
exclaimed Hezekiah. “ I can feel it in my
bones that Iam going to get into a scrape to-
night.”

 

CHAPTER IV.

THE NIGHT ATTACK.

THE night gradually closed down upon the flat-
boat. Upon inquiry, Hezekiah found that their
elderly companion, Mr. Lander, instead of be-
ing an assistant to them, was an incumbrance.
A confirmed invalid, he was barely able to re-
main on his feet for more than a few moments,
and had expressed the wish only that he might
be allowed to reach the settlement and die.

He was totally unfit to handle a rifle, and had
not attempted it for years, so that, although
Waring had another weapon besides his own, it
may be stated that he started upon this expedi-
tion entirely alone—a proceeding, that in its
foolhardiness, was unaccountable.

As Waring had predicted, the night proved of
intense darkness.

In a few hours, both shores became entirely
invisible, and shortly after, it was almost im-
possible to see the length of the boat. Under
these circumstancesI it was _ proposed to work
the flatboat in to shore, and tie up for the night.
All were totally unacquainted with the Wind-
ings of the river, and they were fearful that

If you have no ob- z

 

they might run aground in the darkness, and be ,

unabletoget the craft afloat again. They were
pretty certain. too. that they had been con-

stantl watched from the banks and that it
woul not be lOng before the Indian canoes
would be ranging up and down the river in
search of them.

If this were the case, their only lane of es-
caping them, would be by sweeping nto shore,
and remaining there until the moon arose. On
the other hand, it was hardly probable that the
flatboat could approach nigh enough to the
shore, to gain any protection from it.

The water was so shallow, that it was likely
to ground when several rods distant, in whic
case, the situation of the fugitives would be
far worse than if attacked while in the midst of
the channel. And.besides this, they also ran the
chance of being discovered, even it they should
reach the bank without grounding.

The savages would be passin up and down
the shore; and as it would require considerable ,
eflort and some noise to work the lumbering
concern out of the course it was pursuing, the
trained ears of the red—skins could hardly fail ~
to detect it. '

All these considerations being taken into ac-
count, it was decided that, for an hour or two
at least, they would keep their position in the
midst of the channel.

The greatest cause of alarm, as we have be-
fore hinted, lay in the fact that not one of the
whites in the flatboat was acquainted with the
river. ,

They were drifting aimlessly downward, only
conscious of their general direction. The Ohio,
river abounds, as all our readers are aware, with
numerous islands, and many of these lyin di-
rectly in the middle of the stream—our fr ends 7
had good cause to apprehend running upon one ,
of them.

The flatboat had a long oar swung at either
end, by which its motions were controlled, much
in the same manner that the rafts which descend
our rivers at this day are managed.

To guard as much as possible against the.
calamity mentioned, Hezekiah Smith and Pat
Mulroony passed to the forward part of the
boat so as to be ready not only to sheer theboat
01! when “ breakers were discovered, but tobe
prepared for any venturesome Shawanoes that
might choose this as their oint of attack.

Mr. Lander and his daug ter remained below,
as both well knew their presence would be of no
assistance to those above: and the whites were
thus disposed when the incident we are about
to describe took lace.

Hezekiah sto leaning over the prow, listen-
ing intently for the least evidence of the ap-
proach of their enemies. The only sound as yet
heard was what might be characteer an the,
audible silence of the forest—that deep, solemn
roar, like the distant voiqe of the ocean, the“:
as eternal as the great sea itself. ' ‘

Now and then the melanchol ni ht wind
moaned through the tree-tops with a
lonely velce in consonance with the feelings of
the t ree lis ners; and once or twice the (ar-
ofl scream of some denizen ot‘ the forestle
bo'f‘ge taint] forgward to their ear. ‘

en aga n t e si ence became so found
that the soft ripple of the current couldplgheard‘ '

I against some projecting root or dippinl branch. »

 

mal and /

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith. the Backwoodsman.

 

But these sounds were all natural to the wilder-
ness and excited no emotions, except to add to
the dreary loneliness of the scene.

' The New Englander had stood in the attitude
of attention for more than an hour, when he
detected the cautious dip of a paddle. He in-
stantly raised his head and peered out in the
direction from which it came, but in the Stygian
darkness could detect nothing at all. He main-
tained the same attitude for full an hour, during
which he heard the sound repeated twice. Fully
satisfied that strangers were in the vicinity, he
gave utterance to a suppressed whistle, to place

aring on the guard, and leaning toward Pat
he asked in a whisper whether, if he had no
objecition to tell, he had detected any suspicious
soun .

“ There’s a haythen canoe that has been fol-
lowing us for the last hour or more, or my name
isn’t Pat Mulroony.”

“ Histl there it is again I" admonished Heze-
kiah, arching his neck and gazing out in the
darkness. /

Both listened but Pat failed to hear that
which had startled his companion.

“ The 're mighty oncareful is them same In-
jins,” a ded the Irishman. “ Whishtl but look!
there’s the divils this minutel”

As he spoke, Pat sprung up in great excite-
ment and pointed out on the river. Looking in
the same direction, Hezekiah caught the out-
lines of along Indian canoe filled with shadowy
figures, which glided under the prow of the flatr
boat, and/ came to rest as noiselessly as a phan-
tom.

_ Almost at the same instant a tufted head
a peered above the gunwale, but it was crushed
1 e an e hell by a tremendous blow from
the club rifle of the Irishman. This was
scarce done when the head and shoulders of
another rose within a foot of where Hezekiah
s

_ “ Take that, you thundering red-skin l” he ex-
claimed, striking him a terrible blow square in
' the face, that sent the dusky savage spinnin
out in mid-air with the blood spouting from 1118
nostrils. “ Dern your picterl what business
Wu got poking your head up here! I say,
airing, the Indians have come—look out for
them.”
In his excitement Hezekiah Smith dropped
his rifle and springin u and down as though
i the dec had sudden y come red—hot, be e-
livered his fearful blows indiscriminately, while
Pat ke this rifle swinging like the arms of a
windm ll.
_ “ Begorral but the shillelah comes natural to
the Tipperary be S!” he exclaimed between his
, set teeth, “and at Mulroony was born with
v one in his hand, and has been trained ug to the
illigant profession of breaking heads. ome of
0 will go home to-night with bootilul faces,
harrin’ ,er won’t have any faces at all to go
home w th.”
The Indians had evidently not counted upon a
surprise, and were not prepared for the furious
coura e with which they were received. They
had‘fo lowed the flatboat until they judged the
inmates were either asleep or of their guard,
when they had come upon them in the stealthy
manner narrated. The consequence was that in

 

less than five minutes after the attack. the name
had disappeared with the sunning Shawanoes,
and nothing was heard save the slapping of
Hezekiah’s feet as he still sprung up and down
the deck, and swung his arms around him read
for the next bronzed head that might offer. t
required Pat some time to convince him that
the danger for the present had passed, and there
were no more enemies to contend against. By
degrees he became quieted, and was able to con-
verse rationally when Waring made his appear—
ance among them.

During all this tumult Lander had not shown
himself, nor even so much as given evidence
that he felt the least concern at the conflict go-
mg on. His daughter, when the firing had sub-
sided, cautiously opened the door, and called
the name of her lover. He instantly assured
her that the savages had fled, and besought her
to return to her room. First receivin ahur«
ried but fervent kiss upon her blanche
she complied, imploring him to be careful and
not expose himself unnecessarily to danger.

A silenceasprofound as that of the tomb,
succeeded the onslaught of the savages. Some
minutes later, the noise of paddles was again
heard; but, as Hezekiah had, by this time, gained
his equilibrium of mind, and was convinced
that the Shawanoes could not immediately at-
tempt the same stratagem in which they had so
si nally failed, he returned to his place beside

aring, leaving the Irishman alone at the bow
of the boat. \

“If you have no objections to tell me,” said
Hezekiah in his usual insinuating voice, “what
do you propose to do, now that we are in the
midst of danger? How, in thunder, are we to
get out?”

“ I am afraid,” replied Waring, “ that the In-
dians are constantly ranging up and down the
river, and so lon as we remain in the channel
we are not safe.’

‘1‘ How do you propose to get out of the chan-
ne ?

“ Let us work the craft in to shore, and wait
till the moon rises before starting. Thinking
that we are in the middle of the current, they
will not look along the bank for us, and we
shall, thus be safe until we can see where we
are.

It was Waring who first proposed to run in
under the protection of the bank, and he had
neveronce doubted its expediency. He advo-
cated it now so earnestly that neither Hezekiah
hor Pat made any objection. Accordingly, the
long, sweeping oars were dipped deeply and
silently into the water, and under the powerful
inifiulse of the sturdy-armed men it began grad-
u yveering ofl' toward the Ohio shore. The
greatest caution was exercised as the creaking
of one of the sweeps might tell any savages in
the vicinity what the whites were doing. This
was a delicate task, but our friends elieved
they were succeeding as well as they could wish.
All at once, the dark line of trees were discov-
ered through the darkness, and causing their
efforts, the boat continued approaching, until
the branches brushed over their heads, and the
bottom, striking the mud of the stream, the for-
ward motion of the craft was checked.

The whites had every reason tobe pleased

we. 1"

s

cheek, '

 
   

 

   
  

  

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Bukwoodsman. v

 

with their situation had not a slight accident
caused them a little anxiety. As Put Mulroon
attempted to shove alimb from before him, i;
broke with a cracking noise that could have been
heard across the river. This caused so much
apprehension, that for a time, Waring was on
the point of working the boat out into the cur-
rent again' but, finally, his fears subsided, and
he concluded to remain in his resent position
until the rising of the moon. he flatboat lay
about ten feet from the mainland, and. had
grounded so slightly that had it not been secured
by tying it to one of the branches ahead, it
would have floated ofll again. This was the
precise situation in which Waring had been
anxious to get it: and, excepting the slight acci-
dent alluded to above, he had every reason to be
satisfied with the state of atfairs. The darkness
was so great, and the peculiar position in which
the craft lay so favorable, that no Shawnnoe
would have discovered it in passing within a.
dozen feet of it had not his suspicion been first
attracted to it.

The three whites remained on deck, now and
then whispering to each other, and passing on
tiptoo from one portion to another, but noth-
ing more of their enemies was seen or heard for
along time.

Pat Mulroony was leaning over the prow, as
he had been leaning for the last hour, and was
looking down in the water, when he discerned a
dark, ball-like object moving along the surface.
At first, he took it to be a piece of floating wood;
but, as it passed around the prow, in a manner
that the motion of the current could not have
caused, he was not long in identifying it. It
was the head of an Indian.

Communicating this fact to Waring and
Hezekiah, the ho d on the branch was loosened,
and under the additional impulse of the ears,
81% flat bottom was once more floating down the

0.

 

CHAPTER V.

GRO UND.

Tim whites on the flatboat had committed
a mistake natural to persons in their situation.

As they waited along shore, in the most
painful suspense, the hours were slowly away,
and seemed double their usual length. Thus it
happened, that at the moment of sweeping out
into the current, each believed it to be about
three o’clock in the morning, and were looking
for the appearance of the moon, when, in real-
ity. it was barel midnight.

Waring and at experienced some eculiar
sensations, as they toiled at the car. owin
that one Indian, at least, had discovered their
hiding-place, they had every reason to believe
that a whole war-party were aware of it, and
so long as the shadowy outline of the shore
was discernible, they were in constant expecta-
tion of receiving a volley from their invisible
foes.

But, as the dark mass of trees blended with
the night, and at length faded from their view
altogether, they ceased their efforts, and
breathed freer.

“Now,” said Waring, “I don't care how
soon the moon shows itsalt. With all the

 

windipgs and islands, we need light to see the

wa .’

“VI! you have no objections, I should like
to illgull'e how soon do you expect the moon to
rise?

“Why, right away—that is, within a few
minutes.”

“So it seems it .ought to do; but, Waring,
don’t you know how much longer time seems
to persons in our circumstance than it does at
other times? I know when used to court
Jemima Hopkins, after ten o’clock, the hour
didn’t seem more than ten minutes long' and
then again, when I had to sit up in the Winter,
and keep the wolves out of the sheep-pen every
hour seemed a month long. Now, aring,
I don’t want to hurt your feelings—it may
be three o’clock in the morning, but don‘t be-
lieve it. ”

“I know how apt we are to miscalculate
time on such occasions, and I have tried to make
allowance for it. With all that allowance made,
it strikes me that the moon must he in the
horizon by this time.”

“ I be o it is so; but the best thing we can do,
is to cal late as how it ain’t gwine to be there
for some hours et and making our arrangements
accordingly. i'h,Waringl”

“You are right, I admit. In fact, we can do
nothing else. We are going it blind now
alimo’wing only that we are going down the

l0.

Do you think, that is, if you have no objec-
tion to tell, do you think that these Indians will
try the same method oi! attacking us?"

‘Itis not to be supposed they will, unless
their party is large enough to insure them vic-
tory. Nevertheless, we must be on the lookout
for their devilments. I say, Pat, ahead there,
dfin’: gorget to keep a sharp lookout for mis-
c 1e .

“A , ay, that I will, barring it isn’t ssible
to 100 out at all. Be the Hooly Virgin I see
something now, sure.”

Hezekiah was at his side in an instant. Look-

ing ahead, he saw a dark mass loomin up in the
darkness directly before them, as it was ap-
preaching.

“It’s one of them islands,” he exclaimed.
“The all-fired thing is afloat, and is running
into us. Quick Waring, the ear.”

As he spoke, he and Pat seized the sweep of
the oar, and commenced using it with all their
energy. Close as they were upon the land,
they would have cleared it, had they not, in
their hurry and excitement, committed the
blunder of working against each other; that is,
while Pat and Hezekiah did their utmost to
veer the boat toward the Ohio shore, Waring
struggled to clear the island by going on the
Kentucky side. The cause uence of these
efforts was, that ere they ha taken a dozen
strokes, the flatboat grated upon the velly
bottom, and went broadside upon the is and.

As the current was quite rapid at this ortion
of the river the raft was driven with sue force
upon the beach that Waring saw at once that it
would be impossible to get it 01! again, unless it
was li htened of its entire load. Bpringing down
upont e island, he took a hasty survey or his
situation. so for as the darkness would permit.

 

s

10 Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman.

 

and as Hezekiah and Pat joined him, mention-
ing the plan that we have stated, he said:
‘There is no other be] for it, and we must
make quick work of it. e moon at the very
furthest Will be up in twenty minutes, and it
won’t do for an of the savages to discover us,
but, to get off, it will be necessary for your fa—
ther to come ashore. Is be awake?”
. “Yes,” said Virginia, who arose upon hear-
ing the bottom of the boat grating upon the
gravel, “ and will be here in a moment. ’

Virginia was assisted to descend by her lover,
and a moment later her father followed her.
The other three men instantly set to work, and
inton minutes the boat was sufficiently light-
- ened to make the attempt to get it afloat again.
By the united eflorts of the three it was shoved
out into deep water, where, to their dismay,
they saw it commence settling down, as though
it were sinking.

“Begorral but what does that mane?” cried
Pat, in astonishment.

“ Hark! if I ain’t mistaken, I hear the water
rushing in its bottom.”

With one hound, Waring sprung upon the
gunwale, and descended into the cabin. One
fiance was sufficient. An immenSe hole had

11 stove by the concussion, and a foot of wa-
ter was already in the cabin. The flatboat was
pow going down, and there was no hope of sav-

t.

With rare presence of mind, Waring leaped
back into the water, and attempted to shove
the boat far enough away to make it sink out
of sight when it dld go down, it being his wish
that the Indians should discover nothing of
their misha when the moon arose, or in the
morning. at in this he did not succeed. He
had hardly touched his shoulder to it, when he

= felt that it had already touchedbottom, the wa-
ter being scarcely eighteen inches dee —so low,
in fact, that no one, viewing it. from he shore,
would suspect its true condition. '

“ This is a. little more than I suspected," said
Waring, gloomily, as he stepped ashore. “ That
rotteuol flatboat will never do us one bit of
g :with such a hole smashed in it.”

“ n'it not be repaired in the morning?"
asked Mr. Lander. who seemed affected as little'
by adverse as by favorable circumstances.

“Repaired? no, we should never have ven-
tured out on the river, in such an old 11qu as
that. But ,it can’t be helped now: we must
make the best of a bad bar ain. When the
moon rises, we’ll get an idea 0 our situation."

“It may be,” said Hezekiah, hoping to en-
coura 9 Virginia, “that this island is near
enoug for us to wade to the mainland.”

“Su e it is, what good will it do usi”,
asked aring.

“Why, as the settlement can’t be more than
a. dozen miles distant, if you have no objection, '

we might walk the rest of the way through the
w , . ‘

" If we could only get the boat afloat again,'
or make it sink out of sight; but there’s the
trouble. However, there’s no use crying for
spilt milk. Can you propose nothing for us to
do, Pat!"
.. ' ‘I progowses to wait till we get 'some more
light, an then we’ll take a luk at things.” ,

 

"‘ And in the mean time let us make ourselves
as comfortable as the circumstances will per—
mit,” added Mr. Lander, philosophically.

It being a warm summer night, the whites
suffered little or no personal inconvenience
from their exposed situation. It was found
that this portion of the island, at least, was
covered with trees and rank undergrowth,
which protected them from the night wind,
slight as it was. To make matters in that re
spect sure, however, Mr. Lander proposed that
a fire should he started, but when he found
what a storm of objection he had raised, he said
no more upon that subject.

There being nothing else for them to do, then,
the whites withdrew within the trees, and seat
ing themselves upon the ground, waited the ad-
vent of the moon, which from some unaccount-
able cause to them, was so long delayed.

CHAPTER VI.
RECONNOITERING an. ISLAND—A STABTLING
OCCURRENCE.

As the moon rose above the forest, and shone
down upon the river. the whites began to gather
some idea of their situation. They found that
the island upon which they had been stranded
was about in the center of the stream, and that,
as a consequence, it would require considerable
wading to reach the mainland on either side.

The wooded bank of the Kentucky shore
being thrown into deep shadow by overhanging
branches, it was impossible for them to discern
whether any canoes were lying under it or not.
The hearts of all beat painfully as they looked
upon the flatboat, n0w of no further earthly
use to them, standing out like a beacon to in-
form all where the whites had taken refuge. It
seemed to them impossible that the Shawanoes
could fail to see it.

The island was found to be more considerable
in extent than had been first supposed. It was
over an ei hth of a mile from one extremity to
another, t ickly wooded, and covered with rank
grass and a dense undergrowth. It was oval-
shaped, and remarkably regular in its contour,
being somewhat over two hundred feet broad in
its widest portion.

“What a splendid summer sate this would

make fur a gintleman like meself,” said Pat, as
the two stood under the shadow of a tree, on
the lowermost portion of the island.

“It really would,” replied Hezekiah. “Now
I shouldn’t wonder if it should be used for that
ver :purpose in a few years.”

he‘speaker was right in his propliecy. These

very linesare being written up'on, t at very isl-
and—oneorthe most beautiful at all the isles of
the beautiful river. ' ' 7 -
“Be the same token, it’s the summer sate of
a parti of travelers at this minute, Land it’s
likelly t atwe’ll make quite a. stay ,upon it.”
“ hope there ain’t any Indians watching us.”
said Hezekiah, as he', shiverineg looked toward
the shore of the dark and bloody ground.

.“-80 does Pat Mulroony, but--”

“ J erussleml’ jest look‘ there i” whispered
Hezekiah springing clean 01! his feet

“'Whish'tl where? I sees nothing.”

“ Here! herel this way!” whispered Hezekiah,
pullin: his shoulder around. “ I; ain’t there?

 

    

   
  

i
l
l

.5

     

     

. \

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwooasman; '

I

i, 1 1’

 

it’s on the island, right above usl Look—don’t
you son it?"
11“”1 see the trims, and the darkness, and that’s

“ It was gono the minuto you looked. There
it is nguinl There, it’s gone] \tht makes it
act that; way?"

“ What: is if, man, you‘re making such a hull-
abalnn about?"

“\Vhy, sir,” said Smith solenndy, “as sure
as you and I are living, I seen a light moving
around on tho island!”

“ 12‘s I’nt l‘vlnroony that—”

Smith suddenly Cnught the Irishman’s shoul-
der as with n grip of iron, and without whisper-
ing it word pointed meanineg toward the trees
where he had first seen the alarming manifesta-
tirm. There was no mistaking ihiq time. Put
Mulronny saw n. bright; light shining steadily
through the trees, so brightly and steadily that
he kiin it could not be many rods from them.

“'ithdrnwing more closely under the dark ‘ 11

shadow of their own tin-o, Pats whispered:

“\Vo must Cl‘flllp up and sec “hat the hay-
thens are doing.”

“I say, Pot, I say—limb is—you'vo no ob-
jection to go alone have )‘ "‘l

  

“ Why can’n yres go with me?”

“I can, of course I can, but; then what‘s the
1180? I’ll stay here, and keep watch.”

“ And what’s the now! of your lumping watch
at this poortion?”

“You know some of the Indians might slip
onto the island whilo we are gone, or,” udded

Hezekiah, (um-hing at tho thought, “ thch some ‘

Indians might try to slip oil'. Jerusalem! that
wouldn’t do, you know.”

“ Doesn’t yees wish to go with moi” per-
sisted Put. '

“I would prefer remaining here, my dear
Patrick.”

“ Well, then, kaup quiet and sihill like. and I’ll
soon be back wid ycos. Don’t stir of you hear
a. noise.”

“ I say, PatriL-k—”

But the Irishman was gone.

“Ihopehc doesn’t think I’m afraid,” solilo-
uizcd Hezekiah when he found he was alone.
‘ I think I have proved by this time that: I am

not. If I‘ was scuirh any I would nevrr have
come out into this outlandish country. I don’t
know about that though " he. agldrd, after u. nio-
ment’s thought; “I did hate to Come into this
wilderness most terribly, but I had to do it, and
I might as well own up. when there’s no one to
hear me, that I was nmsh thunderineg seuirt,
and am this minute. Whntg do I want to go
crawling around this cussed Island for? I wish
I had never seen it. 1’vu it great notion £0 wade
over to the Kentucky shore, and go home.”

We must do Smith the credit, however, of
stating that he did not even attempt to act upon
this thought. VVln-n a moment’s reflection
showed him how centemptihlo. and oownrdly
such a course would be, he felt; like butting his
head against; a. tree, that he should have allow-

ed himselfto entertain such an idea. for a mo- ,

ment. -

“ I hope the Irishmnn knows enough to keep
his 'cyea about him,” he continued. “ That
young Waring was right in saying the crisis ot

the danger would be reached to—nig‘hb. "We’re

in the enrisis now, and a domed ticklish affair in

is, too.
i liezekiuh was standing in the attitude of
acute attention, every faculty absorbed in one
of listening, when his whole being was thrilled
by the explosion of two rifles. followed by a
series of horrid yells that made his blood cordle.
lt needed no thought; to tell him that these
cmne from the throats of the Shawnnoes, and
thnt, the mast that. he feared had taken place.

His first impression was that Pat Mulroony
had been discovered, and fired upon, and that
his own safety was in imminent dun er' but.
when he came to reflect. more quietly, 6 new
by the distance of the sounds, that they came
from the upper portion of the island, and that;
it was the friends who had been left behind that
were attacked. Believing, then, that Pat was
, Suio for the present, he decided to remain in his
‘ present position until he he was rejoined by
111].

( Hezekiah bud hardly come to this conclusion
, when n. siighbgrating noiso upon the shingleofvtho
bench caught his (3111',qu turning his head he saw
, that a canoe had just landed within twenty feet
of him, and, at that very moment, two painted
Indians were in the act of stepping ashore.
With his heart in his throat, he shivered around
to the opposite side of the tree, and tremblineg
watched the actions of these savages.

, They were very deliberate in their movc~
j ments, seeming to take no not'fe of the tumult
; which, a moment before, had roken the pro-
found stillness of stream and wood.

First pulling the canoe high up on the land,
each took :1 rifle from it and then strode direct~
ly toward the tree which concealed the fright—
ened man. As they passed so near, that: he
could have touched them with his own rifle, be
absolutely believed they would hear his heart;
beat. But; such a thing has never taken place,
no matter how wildly that organ has thro bed.
nnd then the Indians, who would have detected
the faintest sound, passed on, and disappeared
in the wood of the island, withdut once sus-
pecting bow nigh theylmd been to one of the
very beings for whom they were searching.

They had hardly gone, when Pat. Mulroony
stole cautiously forth into view, and looking

carefully about him to satisfy himself that; he '
had not, lost his reckoning, ran on tiptoe to
where Hezekiah stood. ‘

“What did. you see?" breathlessly inquired
the latter. I

“ May our howly mother presarve us, but the
island is full of the haythenl” -

“What was that light we seen?" _

“ It was the camp-fire of a whole pack of the

l divilsl But: we’re in a bad flx.”

“Didn’t. you hear them rifles? They’rein a
worse fix.’ said Hezekiah, in an undertone.
. “ VVhaL’s to be done?” '

1 “That’s what puzzles me. We must at back
, if we can, and see what the outland' divils
have been at.”
‘ The two started toward the upper end of the
iislund, the lrishmnn not disduimng to use the
utmost caution. Every dozcn yards or '80, he
aused and listened for the slightest warning of ’
danger; and, as for Hezekiah, he expected each,

 

l

 

 

[8

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwooddman.

/

 

 

moment to see a whole horde of screeching
Shawanoes rush out from the trees and anni-
hilateithem.

Some two-thirds of the distance was thus ac-
complished without any further evidence of the
presence of their foes, when the Irishman, who
was on'iya few feet in advance, again halted
with a whispered exclamation.

Following the direction of his finger, Heze-

kiah saw several dark objects moving away
'from the island, which he made out to be
canoes.

Fearful of being seen, the two whites with-
drew further from the shore.

They had gone but a. few feet, when they
found themselves in a. sort of natural clearing,
some twenty yards in diameter, seemingly made
by some terriflc whirlwind. And here, in the
center of this clearing they saw a sight that
made their blood run cold with horror!

The moon by this time was high in the
heavans, and the center of the clearing was lit
up as if at noonday; and directly under the
full tide of light, was stretched the lifeless form
of Mr. Lander. He lay on his back, all his
limbs outstretched, with his skull cloven by a
tomahawkl He seemed to have made no re-
sistance when the awful blow was given, but
had fallen back, and instantly expired. His
features were so disfigured that, had it not
been for his clothes, our friends could not have
recognized him. Spellbound, and horror-

struck, they gazed at the heart‘sickening sight
for a long timel

CHAPTER VII.
ADVENTURE ON THE ISLAND.

FOR some time after the departure of Heze-
kiah and Pat Mulroony, Waring and Virginia
Lander stood silent and thoughtful. Several
feet away, they could see the form of her father,
seatednpon the ground, his head bowed for-
ward, and his whole soul seemingly stricken
with despair.

“ He appears to feel our sorrow more than we
do,” whispered Waring, whose heart bled for
the suffering man. . _ ~ .

“It is not that,” replied Virginia: “it is his
bodily sufferings that trouble him. Poor fatherl
how I wish to brush the hair from his clammy
brow. I will go to him in a minute—he is pray-
ing now.” I

A soft, murmuring monotone was audible
and young Waring knew that he was engaged
with his Maker. he scene was too impressive,
their surroundings too solemn, for them to in-
dulge in conversation, and they preserVed a
respectful silence; the maiden leaning upon her
betrothed, and waiting until her parent was
through before she should go to him.

After the lapse of several more minutes, she
saw him raise his head, and‘walking hastily
toward him, threw her arms around his neck,
and gave way to her tears of sorrow. Her

whole soul was in a (my, and her grief could'

not be restrained. 'ariag, who was accus-
tomed to the suffering of the father, witnessed
the emotion of the loving daughter, and was so
overcome that he suddenly turned his head and
mowed away. it was too much for hing, ,

\

 

Hardly conscious of what he was doing. he
walked slowly out from the protection of the
trees and - stood on the moonlit beach. He
placed the stock of his rifle or. the hard shingle,
and leaning upon it, gave way to the most
gloomy meditations.

Directly before him, as motionless as a rock,
rested the bulk of the sunken flatboat. The soft
ripple of the Ohio against the sand at his feet,
that deep, hollow murmur of the great wilder-
ness were the only sounds that reached him,
and these, from their monotonous continuity,
seemed silence itself. The moon was nearly
overhead, shinin in that peculiar manner, that
the river seeme to reflect more light than it
received. A few straggling clouds as white as
snow-drifts, now and then floated before the
moon, and huge, grotesque shadows glided over
the island, across the stream, and into the
wood, like phantoms. On either side, the
frowning forest rose likea wall of blackness
and seemed to close the whites in an impreg-
nable prison.

It was no wonder that the young adventurer
felt gloomy and despairing. It could not be
otherwise than thus, while within a dozen miles
of the settlement, and in the most dangerous
portion of the river. an accident should place

im and his friends in the most imminent peril,
and make the escape of all of them, as it seemed
to him, an utter impOssibility.

Waring was in the midst of these gloomy
forebodings, when the noise of a light footstep
startled him, and looking around, he turned to
greet his friends:

“ Well, what have you discovered?” he added.
“ Are we alone on the island?”

To his surprise he recaived no reply.

“What are the prospects of our getting over
the mainland—”

As quick as lightning Waring’s rifle was at
his shoulder, an one of the approaching Sha-
wanoes was shot through the breast. With a
wild yell, he sprung high in the air, and fell
dead upon the sand. At the same moment the
white man saw something cleave the air, and
heard a rushin sound close to his face, followed
by the splash o the tomahawk in the water be-
hind him. Clubbing his rifle, he stood on the
defensive, when he noted that neither of the
savages had possessed a rifle, and conscious that
he was more than a match for the surviving
one, he made a rush at him.

The Indian turned to flee, and Waring had
hardly started in pursuit, when the report
of a second rifle was heard amon the trees, fol-
lowed by a series of whoo s an yells, as if a
lievgion of demons had an denly een loosed.

ith that presence of mind which ever charac-
terized the young’man, he comprehended his
critical peri in an instant. The trees were
swarming with Shawanoes.
further his destruction would be inevitable.

Wheeling around with such celerity that his
momentum carried him nearly off his feet,
he flung _ his gun from him, and ran
for his lie to the flatboat. Stepping one
foot into the water. he made a tremendous
bound, and alighted upon the gunwale, the
same as a bird would have done; and then tech

If he went a rod'

  
       

 

    

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodamum 13

 

inghishat from his head. he concentrated all
his energies in the one effort, mid sprung full
ilftecnfeet out into the river.

The instant he came to the surface, he gasped
for breath and dove again, swimming while
beneath the surface, as far out toward the
keniucky shore as it was possible, repeating
the maneuver several times, until b‘elleving he
was at a safe distance from the island, he swam
sideways, and anxiously surveyed the island.

So prompt and rapid had been his move-
ments, that he had not been seen, and his own
escape, if he chose to improve the opportunity
given him, was at least insured; but Luther
Waring would have rather been smitten by in-
stant annihilation, than desert the two beings
that he had left behind him. The thought had
never once entered his head.

He continued oil‘ the island until the current
had nearly carried him half-way to the water’s
edge, so that he believed he had run little risk
of discovery. As he walked in under the
shadows, several forms followed him like phan-
toms, while as many more closed around him
from the wood. \Varing had taken but afew
stops, when he was startled by hearing a deep
groan. His apprehension told him at once that
it was the voice of Lauder, and he was moving
toward the point from which it came, when he
caught a glimpse of the shadow-like figures
around him, and saw that the most dangerous
crisis of his life was upon him.

The Shawanoes had not yet surrounded him,
and cmscious that all depended u on aquick
and energetic decision, Waring ma e a. dash to
regain the river. The dense undergrowth at
this portion of the island impeded the move-
ments of both pursuer and pursued; but the ac-
tivity of the white man was superior, and he
was the foremost at the beach when, making
another terrific leap, he bounde out into deep
water, and dove beneath the surface.

While submerged, Waring heard distinctly
the dull report of the rifles, and the skipping of
the bullets, as they glanced over the water.
Being a skillful swimmer, he turned upon his
back, and as he was borne slowly upward, he
allowed only his mouth and nose to be exposed,
when, inhaling a. sumcient quantity of air, he
again dove, and repeated precisely the same
maneuver that we have described before.

Finally, believing he was again safe, he al-
lowed his head and shoulders to come to view,
and looked back toward the island. To his dis-
may, an Indian canoe was within a dozen feet
of him. lts occupants desci'led him at the same
moment that he discovered the , and now com.
menced a most exciting race 0 life and death.

One minute would have decided the contest
in the middle of the river, but fortunately, in-
deed, Waring’s efforts had brou ht him within
a few rods of the shore. Fearfu of being fired
upon, he repeated his stratagem of divin , and
when he came to the surface, Struggled ranti-
cally to gain the shore, With the canoe dai-tin
forward like a shadow. As soon as he could
gain a. foothold, he tore through the foam-
ing water, and dashed into the woods, while
the canoe was scarcely twice its length behind

him.
It was only by the most skillful runniniz.

 

dodging, and doubling, that Waring succeeded
in freeing himself from his agile piirsucrs. lie
had gone fully half a mile in the forest before
this was accomplished, but he found himself, at
length, entirely alone, and panting and ex-
hausted, he Seated himself upon the ground, to
decide upon the next course to pursue.

He could not think of leaving the island, when
he had every reason to believe that all he held
dear on earth was upon it. Virginia was a
captive in the hands of the merciless Shawaiioea,
and even if he could aflord her no assistance, he
could Certainly learn something of hci‘ fate, and
form some plan for her rescue.

With this determination he arose, and re
traced his steps. It is hardly necessary to say
that he made his way as silently, stealthily and
cautiously as it was his ability to do; starting
at every rustling wind, or falling leaf. Upon
reaching the shore of the river, he found that he
was above the island, and again wading it,
swam out toward it.

Waring wished if possible, to recover his rifle,
and gain a glimpse of the band of Indians who
had slain Lander, and who held his daughter
captive. Stead iug himself, he allowed the cur-
rent tocarry h in downward, and when several
rods distant, checked his motion, and took a
survey of the flatboat and the surroundings.

He saw his rifle 1 ing on the beach, its orna—
mented stock and arrel shining in the moon-
light. After carefully surveying every portion
of the island, that came under his observation,
be detected no sign of dangers and was about to
let himself float forward again, when thelifted
head of the Shawanoe rose above the gunwale,
and remained in view for fully a minute.

As the moon shone fully upon the savage,
Warin distinguished the features plainly. He
conclu ed at once that there were severe others
upon the flatboat, and all waiting for his re-

turn. The savage gazed carefully around him,
and descrying nothing, his head disappeared

. -from view.

“ Ah, my fine fellow,” thought Waring, as he
noiselessly swam toward the Ohio shore, “ you
may watch there quite a while,before ou catch
me in an of your traps. You have ad blood
enough or to-ni ht.”~

He now floate slowly down the river, keep-
ing about midway between the island and the
Ohio bank, and so far as possible, examined the
former, as he passed the bank. Reaching its
extremity, he passed around it, and commenced
ascending the opposite side, so as to complete
his reconnaissance.

This was an extremely difficult task, and none
but the most powerful swimmer could have ac-
complished it. But Waring succeeded, and
final “ anchored” for a few moments abreast
the tboat, while he took another observation
of it. He saw nothing more of the Indians, al-
though he firmly believed they were still upon!
it.

He was convinced that the major portion of'
the Shawanoes were still upon the island, and
after floating somewhat lowar, he landed at pre-
cisely the same spot where he came so high being
captured before. Feeling confident that he had
not been seen, he unheaitatingly came ashore,
and passed beneath the shadow of the trees.

 

  

 
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
    
  
   
   
   
  
   
     
   
   
  
   
 
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
    
  
   
 
 
    
 
   
   
 
  

f-w

 

‘- .

 

/_

an extremely '

l4.

Exploits of Hezekiah smith. the Backwoodsmam

 

Upon coming from the water, his limbs were
so heavy, and he felt so exhausted, that he
threw himself down u on the ground, to gain a
few moments’ rest. espite the exciting scenes
in which he had just participated, and
the terrible ordeal through which he had just
passed, he fell asleep almost immediately.

It was in the midst of a fearful dream of
tomahawks, scalping—knives, Indians and inur-
dots, that he was awakened by a grasp upon his
arm. Believing resistance to be useless, he lay
motionless, Waiting for the command of his
captors.

“If you’ve no objection, I should like to in-
quire whether you are not about through with
your nap?” inquired the well-known voice of
‘Hezekiah Smith.

. CHAPTER VIII.
STILL ON THE ISLAND.

THE dull, gray light that now began to over-
sprend the sky, gave token of the coming day,
and the three whites withdrew further into the
grove for consultation.

“This is a bad business,” remarked Waring,
after he had exchanged experiences with his
friends. “ The infernal devils have outwitted
us at last. God knows what will become of
Virginia. Her poor father is already deadl”

“Yes, we have seen him” said Hezekiah,
with a shudder at the remembrance of the aw-
,fulvscene. “He isn’t a dozen rods away from

“Let us ive him a decent burial,” added
Waring. “ ecan find some means to scoop
out a grave for him.”

The three moved away to the clearing, but,
upon reaching it, nothing of the body was to be
Seen. The Shawanoes had carried it from the
island.

“Perha it is as well,” said Waring. “He is
beyond a pain and suffering, and the disposal
of his body can make no diflerence to him, al-

. though I would that we could have performed
the last sad rites for him.”

“ Well,” said Hezekiah, clamping his rifle

, down upon the ground, as be came to a. halt,

and folding his arm over it, “ here we is, and
the question store this assembly is how we’re
going to get away. What do you propose to
do, my dear Patrick?" v

“ I advise that we ate breakfast.”

“ The only objection to that,” replied Waring,
“is that we have none to eat; but, badinage
aside, we must first go over this island again,
and learn whether there are any of the demons
left. If not, we must get on their track, for, as
trueas the heaven is above me, I never go to
that settlement without Virginia.” .

“I am certain—that is, as certain as I can be
—that the last of the Indians left ,the island a
half, hour ago. We seen their canoes going
0 .

At the extremity of the island the three
separated, as had been i-oposed, and commenced
making their waybac again.

Inzdoin thi it was necessary to avoid
exposing t emse ves toany who might be on
’eit er_ shore of the mainland, and, from the
great caution that was necessary, the work was
and tedious one.

 

it was not until full two hours had elapsed
that the three whites met on the. spot where
Virginia Lander had been taken prisoner.

Their search, or examination, as it might be
termed, proved that the savages had, indeed,
left the island, not a sign of one having been
discovered. They had probably done this
under the belief that the whites had succeeded
in reaching the mainland, so that the latter
were convinced that, if they kept themselves
concealed through the day they would not be
disturbed, and could easily get away when night
came again. The ashes of their camp-fire had
been discovered, and blood upon the leaves, and
other evidences of their recent visit.

“But, if you have no objection to tell
where’s your rifle?" asked Hezekiah who he
noticed that Waring was unprovidcd with that
weapon.

The latter looked through the trees.

“Yonder it lies this very minute.
that they did not steal that also.
recover it.”

He paused, ere he had passed out from among
the trees, for the very fact that the rifle lay
there u disturbed, sent a. suspicious pang
through h m. It seemed improbable that such
an occurrence could be mere accident. A true
Indian rarely, if ever, com mittcd such an over-
sight. The rifle was magnificently mounted,
and would have been a prize to any one.

There was another matter which, in Waring’s
state of mind, excited suspicion and apprehen-
sion. He believed the gun did not lie on the
precise spot where he had thrown it. He recol-
lected that he had flung it with such force that
it must have gone very nearly to the edge of
the beach, whereas it now lay either on the
very spot that he had passed ovar, or a few feet
upon the opposite side.

This circumstance, which, at any other time
would have attracted no attention at all, cause
Waring great uneasiness. He felt that it Was
by no means certain that everything was right
upon the island, even though it had been provén
that their enemies had just left it. It looked to
him as though a tl'a had been laid to insnare
him, and this rifle 0 his, lying but a few yards
distant, was the bait.

Feeling pretty well convinced that there was
some design in the presence of this rifle, he set
himself to work to discover the precise means
by which it was intended to entrap him. There
being no Indians on the island, of course he ran
no risk of being taken prisoner, in case he ven-
tured out to recover the weapon.
from this point to either shore was so slight
that it would havo been the easiest matter in
the world for a concealed savage to pick him OH.
The gun could not be recovered without expos-
ing himself to this peril.

Ah! the flatboatl Waring’s heart leapt at
the thought. Strange that it had not occurred
to'him before. There it lay, just as it had dur-
ing the night, save,.[ierhaps, that it had sunk a
few inches lower. t was upon that be had
seen the heads of several Indians, and there, in
all probability they still lay in wait, watching
for his reappearance. ‘ ~

What reason had these Shawanoes to suppose

Strange
I will go and

that Waring could again return to the island!- 

The distance '

       

fl...

1!
a

.l--.4

'._......_._. 

      

,.
I"
L. i

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsmn. N

h A

15

 

The best of reasons. He had shown to them a
desire to do so, and as long as he believed that
Virginia Lander was there, the savages well
knew he would linger in the vicinity. Once
upon the island, he would not fail to recover
his gun, provided he believed be incurred no
additional danger in doing so.

That, then, he concluded, was the solution of
the question. Taking other matters into con-
sideration, Waring came to the conclusion that
it was their desire to take him prisoner instead
of shootin him, deeming, most probably. the
latter deat far too comfortable a mode for him
to use in getting out of the world. He knew
enough of the bloodthirsty savages to under-
stand what a terrible fate would be his, in case
he fell into their hands. They would take a
fearful vengeance for the Shawanoe he had
killed in self-defense. Well, indeed had it
been for the feeble Mr. Lander that e was so
enfeebled and weakened. It brought him a
speedy death, instead of a lingering torture.

These reflections, which we have recorded at
some length, occupied Waring but a few seconds.
He saw everything with a hunter’s eye, and,
with a. shake of his head, stepped back a pace
or two, and resumed his position beside the
Irishman and Hezekiah.

“ What’s the matter?” asked the latter.

“ It won’t do—it won’t do."

“What won’t do! Do you mean to go out
there and pick your rifle?”

“Yes, that is what I mean.”

“What is to hinder?"

“ I don’t like the looks of that flatboat.”

“ Whewl” blew Hezekiah, surveying the ob-
ject in question as though he_had never seen it.
“If ou’ve no objection, might l inquire why
you. on’t like it?”

“I am afraid there are Indians concealed
upon it. I saw them there last night.”

And now arose a dispute in which all three
of the whites engaged. Waring. who most cer-
tainly was the best qualified to judge, expressed

it as his firm conviction that a. half-dozen Shaw-p

anoes, at least, were at that moment glaring
out from the flatboat, and waiting for their re-
appearance. Hezokiah dissented, and persist-
ently maintained that there was but one savage
upon the craft, and that he lay in the cabin
sound asleep! He could give no satisfactory
reason to the others for this belief. but be ap-
peared sincerely to believe it himself. Pat Mul-
roony on the contrary,_ was ready to swear
that there wasn’t a red-skin on the island, flat-
float either bank or Within fivo miles of theml

“ he jabersl I’ll soon find out."

“ How?"

“ I am going on the owld flatboat itself."

Pat’s companions begged, entreated, and in).
plored, but all to no purpose. He had resolved
to prove what he had argued, and he now pre-
pared to do it. ~

CHAPTER IX.
a‘ W'nvnmnn.
Is is not jtohe'supposed that Pat Mulroony

was entirely freefrom fear, when he resolved
upon the venture of which we have spoken.

3 other attempted to swim

3;.

 

The strenuous assertions of Waring, the equally -
positive belief of Hezekiah, and their united .
rotestations convinced him that they were at
east sincere and honest in their efforts to pre-

serve him from harm. Nevertheless, like a
genuine Irishman, he sturdin combated 'them,
determined to demonstrate his sincerity by ac-
tual experiment.

It is a fact that a man may commence with
the assertion of an absolute falsehood, and con-
scious, at the beginning, that he is defending
such, argues himself in time into the belief that
it is genuine truth. - ’

Pat Mulroony had walked two-thirds of the
distance to the bulk and was within a few feet,
of the water, when e paused. He haddisoov-
ered a fearful and startling thing! I

That which arrested the brave-hearted Irish-
man, was the sight of a human eye. At a small
au er—like orifice at the mouth of the boat he
an deuly distinguished the glowin eye-ball of
a Shawanoe Indian! It was gigaring like a
demon’s, and a. cannon-hall would not have
stopped him sooner.

V ariug and Hezekiah, noticinghis hesitation,
called out in a whisper for him to return.
very call was the means of sending him forward '
again. He was resolved that they should never
laugh at this adventure, and with rather a,
qliinckened ste , he strode forward, and catchin
t e gunwale dy one hand, he carried himselfi
w1th one boun over upon the deck.

He had left his rifle behind, and was armed" I

only with his knife. His two friends breathlesst
watched him and listened. They saw his' head

and broad shoulders gradually lower as he walk-' g

ed undauntedly toward the stern of the boat
until the bow hid him from sight, and then all
was still. .

The silence lasted for perha s a. full minute
and then was broken by a. ye! as startling and
terrific as an explosion of thunder in the clear
summer sky. Instantly a half dozen tufted
heads were seen dodging hither and thither over '
the deck, all centering around one burly, bare-
headed flgare that was stru glin like a lion
amid a score of enemies whic ha dogged him
nigl‘i, to death. -

hile Waring and Hezekiah gazed transfixed
with horror, a powerful-Hm Indian shot up
like a rocket in mid-air, and came down in the
river. Ere he had struck, another went spin-
ning after him, falling flat on his face in the
water, with a concussion that cracked like a
pistol. While they were swimming with all‘
speed hack to the boat, a heav fall was
hszlilrd, a. faint shaming noise, and t on all was
si . I

As the foremost Indian was in the act of ~
ing himself over the gunwale of the flatbed; he
let go with a horrid whoop and fell back dead,
killed by the bullet from Waring’l‘ rifle. The
behind the stern, but
Hannah shot him through them-sin are itoonld
be accomplished. :  » , T ~

There could be but one cause for the-laden

cessation of the tumult upon the.th -' g ..

had either been overcome or. slain. The silo as

that succeeded the fearful you andtthe‘strdgglo’i‘ ‘
vasequally painful and impressive to his two 

4.

I

 

     

18 Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodlman.

 

friends. They waited long and impatiently for
it to be broken.

“It’s all up with him!” whispered Waring,'as
he primed lllS rifle. “ I pity him, but our hands
are clear of his blood.”

“Too bad, too bad,” muttered Hezekiah, who
had 'ust loaded his rifle. “ he was a good fellow,
my ear Patrick was indeed. I am sorry that
he has come to this bad end i”

“ We must look out for ourselves now.
The best thin we can do is to get off this infer-
nal island, w ich has been the scene of such
misfortune to us. I am afraid that if we remain
much longer, you will take it into your head to
perform some such feat, and I shall be left
alone.”

“No, indeed I won’t, there’s no danger
of that,” added hezekiah, so eagerly and earn-
estly that it brought a smile to the face of

arin .

“Itigsyet early in the forenoon, and I sup-
posgtwp shall be compelled to remain here until
in . ‘

g‘ Of course we shall! It won’t do to start out
in the river in open daylight. We’d be killed
before we had gone a dozen inches.

“ Hello! did you hear that?”
Waring."

Several whoopsr"were heard upon the Ken-
tuck shore, apparently in answer to those
whic had been uttered some minutes before b
the captors of Pat Mulroony. Peering throng
the trees, Waring added:

“There is aparty of the thieves coming 08
from the mainland in a canoe. Get ready for
hot work.”

“Drat the things—can’t we hide?” anxiously
asked Herekiah, looking around him for any
place that might offer.

“No, we must stand our ground; they have
just started.”

The canoe which was approaching was alarge
Indian one, in which were seated three or four
Shawanoes, all busily plying their ddles.
They headed strai ht for t e upper en of the
island, while the w ites stood each behind a tree
r, with cocked rifles, waiting until they were com-

pelled to fire.
Justasthe canoe seemed about to touch, it
sheered off and ran alongside of the flatboat,
where it la against and parallel to it. The
heads of our savages immediately appeared
above, as though they were staggering under
the weig, of some heav load. The next sec-
ond Pat n , boun hand and foot, was
handed over and eposited in the bottom of the
canoe. His friends could hear him mutter-
ing dire threats of vengeance, and daring his
captors to loose him for a moment, all of which
it isneedless to say attracted no notice what-
ever.
\‘ The captive disposed of, the Shawanoes fol-

owed, sinking the canoe to its very gunwales.
They paddled away toward the shore, and in a
few moments disappeared from view.

“ Now at least,” said Waring, “ the island and
boat are free of the imps, and we can have
: Refilling-spell. Let us go upon the old

u .

Mamet in the world do you want to do that

exclaimed

 

“ It is the safest place.”

“If you’ve no objection, I should like to in-
quire bow it can be the suf est place?”

“In the first place there is no cash on it,
and in the second place, as its sides are ullet—
proof, we can use it as a fort, and keep off any
number of foes until dark, when we can get ofl!
ourselves.”

“ Let’s go upon it, then, before they come
back.”

It was with some misgiving, slight enough,
but still sufficient to occasion uneasiness, that
Waring once more approached the flatboat.
When he reached the deck he experienced an
irresistible desire to explore every portion of it,
not that be suspected the presence of any Indian
but that he could not eel positively assured
until he had done so. The result was that it
was found to be entirely empty of any persons
except themselves. The cabin was half-full of
water, and it was here that the Slmwunoes
must have concealed themselves while their
victim was approaching.

 

CHAPTER X.
COMPANIONs IN carnvrrr.

WITH his usual recklessness Pat Mulroony,
after arriving upon the hulk of the flatboat,
descended into the cabin. He had just reached
the base when he espied several Indians, and he
immediately retreated to the deck again.

Knowing that he was “ in for it 7’ he turned,
and catching the foremost Indian in his arms,
threw him bodily into the water. The second
he served in the same manner, when he found
the red-skins were coming up rather too fast for
convenience.

However, he gave the third a tremendous
blow in the face, and commenced laying about
him in regular Donnybrook st is, when his foot
glippzd, and ere he could rise e was seized and

can .

“Trate me gintlemanly,” said he, “ for yees
can’t deny but what I served yees in the same
manner.’

The Indiana could but respect the bravery he
had shown, and they oflered him no violence.
He was then passed over the side into the canoe,
and transported to the shore. Shortly after,
his captors joined the main body, where he met
Virginia Lander, in the same helpless situation
as himself.

The Shawanoes were gathered in an irregular
circle around the fire, some smoking, others
chatting, and others apparently aleep.

The savages had thrown a brilliant crimson
shawl over her shoulders, and her hair being as
getty black as theirs, and her head bowed, be

ad taken her for one of their number when he
first looked upon them. Virginia sat with her
head bowed, for her heart was stricken with
grief. The picture of her cherished father
springing up with his wild look, and running
through the trees, pursued by his merciless
enemies, was ever before her. She could not
drive it from her, and shudder after shudder
ran through her frame and the tears trickled
thick and fast between her fingers.

How chilled, since yesterday! uflering,

    

  

   

Nb

  

 
 

fiiploits of Hezekiah S.mith, the Backwoodsman. I." V

 

misfortune, and death had come upon them—
had swe t her 0111 relative upon earth from
her, an separate her from him ’who was
clearer than any relative could be! All alone—
alone!

No, she was not all alone! There was One
who was ever nigh her—who never lost sight of
His stricken ones, and who only could com-
fort her in this dark hour which had come upon
her. To Him she turned, us the human heart
will turn, when bleeding and lacerated, and re-
fusing to be comforted by any sympathy the
world can give.

But it was hard to be separated from all
kindred. The thought was loathsome and full
of abhorrence that she, an unprotected woman,
was alone among a party of bloodthirsty sav-
ages. She hardly dare look upon them, and yet
looking through her tears she ventured to steal
a glance at them. How her heart leaped, as
her fizze‘ rested upon the broad, jovial face of
Pat ulroony, his pitying blue eyes fixed upon
herself. Removing her hands, she looked up,
and with a mournful smile returned his nod of
recognition. Comprehending the question her
ve looks formed, the quick-witted Irishman
rep ied:

“Yes, I’m the only one besides yerself that
the haythen have, and they wouldn’t have got
me if I hadn’t struck at ’em too hard, and
missed ’em. Ye l{Est keep quiet, my jewel, and
ye’ll hear of Pat ulroony ag’in.”

Asort of consultation was now held among
the Shawanoes, relating not to the prisoners,
but to those who were not, the debate being as
to what means should be employed to capture
them also. After a protracted discussion it was
decided that the whole party, with the exception
of enough to guard the prisoners, should cross
over to the island and boldly attack them.

This decided upon, the preparations were in-
stantly com leted, and the warriors moved
down to the ank, leaving Virginia and Pat to
the guardianship of two of their number. At
the very moment of reaching the river they
descried the two whites as they climbed upon
the flatboat. '

This caused a halt and a further debate.
Large as was the Indian party, a ma ority were
op osed to assaulting the whites in t eir strong-
ho d. They had alread learned enough of
their mettle to understan that this would be a
most dangerous undertaking upon their part,
and many more were convinced that there was
no hope at all of success, even with the loss of
two-thirds of their number.

It was actually decided to give up the hope of
securing the two remaining w ites by this
means. The sagacious Indians suspecting the
relation which existed between one of them
and one of the captives already in their posses-
sion, believed a much better 0 portunity would
be offered. Love will play the wild with any
man, and lead him to attem t. deeds which in
his cooler moments he woul renounce mad-
nem. So they were cantent to do their tint;

 

CHAPTER XI.
WHERE Is nuznmnn!

As the Shawannos had invariably come from
and returned to the Kentucky side of the river,
Waring concluded that the entire war~party
was upon that shore, and it was therefore deter-
mined in leaving the island that they should
cross over to the same bank.

“ It will bother as somewhat to manage our
rifles,” said he, “and as we may need them the
instant we touch land, we must keep them and
our ammunition out of the water."

“ Rip ofl.’ a piece of this old hulkand float them
over on that. ’

“ A good idea.” ,

The suggestion of Hezekiah was adopted at
once. A portion of the cabin was loosened and
placed in the water, and upon it was laid their
two rifles and powder-horns. The raft thus
formed was so buoyant as to afford them ma-
terial assistance in swimming.

The night was of inky darkness: the most fa-
vorable that the two adventurers could have
wished. Yet, fearing that the savages might
suspect some such stratagem as this, they al-
lowed themselves to drift downward with the
raft until they had passed the lowermost portion ‘
of the island, when they shoved out into deep
water, and commenced working their wav‘caw‘
tiously over toward the Dark and Bloody
Ground.

“Be careful and keep your limbs under wa-
ter,” admonished Waring; “ a single splash may
betray us.”

“ch, I understand,” whispered Hezekiah,‘
kicking around like a frantic frog. “ It appears
to me that we’re going down—stream faster than
across it.”

Such was the case, as Waring found that his
efforts alone tended to carry them across, He-
zekiah’s beingasmuch in one direction as an: .
other, amounted to nothing.

“Drat it.” muttered the latter, “it’s some»
thing like that cancel got into the other night.
Never mind, we’ll come out somewhere.”

A few minutes later the two touched bottom,
and pushing their craft carefully before them,
came out in the woods, where the blackness was
of Egyptian intensity. Hezekiah humped his ,-
head several times before he dared rise to a per- ;
fectly upright position, and then he could only ,
discern the shadowy form of his companion be~
side him. ' ~

“Whatever happens, or whatever you see,”
Whispered Waring, “ don’t speak or start.”

“ 1 know better than to do that—drat that
limb! it has nearl sawed my neck off.”

Knowing that t 6 current must have carried
them a considerable distance down the river
Waring used the bank as his guide, and ascend
a considerable distance before he began to look
about him for the savages. After havin pro‘
gressed somewhat over a quarter of a m is, he
caught the glimmer of a light through the trees, 2
and touched Hezekiah upon the arm, as a can-
tion for him to be on his guard. . ~

Making their way carefully through the tan-
gled undergrowth, through hollows and over

alien trees. across brooks and miry patches 0{

 

 

  

    
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 

"remain, and accomplish nothing.

' muttered.

18

earth, they at length stood within a hundred
yards of the Shawaiioe camp—fire:

Waring’s heart sunk within him, for he un-
derstood at once that the Shawanoe war—party
had divided, and that neither of the captives
was before him. When had the separation tak-
en place? What direction had the other taken?
How could its trail be gained?

These were questions which instantly present—
ed themselves to the young adventurer’s mind,
and which for a long time he was unable to
answer. Amid the profound darkness which
held reign, it was very obvious that nothing
could be done. Even the full, bright moon was
unable to penetrate with its light the solemn
labyrinths of the Dark and Bloody Ground.
Nothing could be done until morning.

As neither Waring nor Hezekiah had enjoyed
any sleep for many hours they both felt fatigued
despite the exciting situation in which they were
placed. Withdrawing a considerable distance
further into the forest, they both lay down he-
side an uprooted tree, and were almost immedi-
ately locked in slumber.

The sleep of Waring was deep and dreamless.
It was not until the sun had been up several
hours that he opened his eyes. As soon as he re-
covered from his temporary bewilderment he
arose, chagrined that he had lost so much valu—
able time. To his sur rise, upon looking around
nothing was seen of ezekiah Smith. Thinking,
however, he could not be far away, Waring
seated himself upon the tree and waited for his
return. . _

An hour passed away, and still no Sign of his

missing companion. The young man had whis-
tled, and gave utterance to all the Signals at his
command, but . had elicited no response. He
was now alarmed, and greatly vexed :‘ alarmed
at the singular disappearance of his friend, and
vexed that now, when every minute was of the
utmost value to him, he was thus compelled to
At length
his atience became insupportable. _

“. here is no use of remaining behind,” he

“ The Shawanoes have gone, and
every minute places them further from me. I
will. follow them alone, relying upon my own

.arm and the kindness of Heaven for success.”

Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, hemoved
resolutely ofl, resolved never to turn his back

L ', upon his enemies until he had learnedsome-
thing of the fair captive they held. It was a

desperate proceeding, indeed, for a single man
thus to pit himself against a whole party of red-
skins, but our hero elt no hesitation in domg

It was now, too, that Warin began to ex-
rience the pangs of hunger. e had fasted a
gag time, and wasso famished that be deter-
mined to secure some food at all hazards. At

, the period of which we write, game was very
' abundant in this portion of the West, and the

decision had scarcely entered’ his mind when
several wild turkeys, their wings outspread and
their feet scarcely touching the earth, sped

. along within a stone’s throw of-him. ass quick
I as thought the‘ foremost was shot-and .inshi'a

hands. , ,
The instant that Waring had secured his

Kaine. he rezretted having
' I - sf , l ‘  F"
,- ',~ ~ 5 ‘ , . ' '

 
 

Exploits of Hezekiah Smithfthe Backwoodsmam.

for he felt certain he had exposed himself to
danger. Some of the Indians must certainly be
within hearing, and would be attracted thither
by a suspicion of the true state of the case.

To guard against capture Waring made all
haste through the woods in the direction of the
camp-fire which had been deserted by the
savages, in the belief that this would be the last
place where his enemies would seek for him.
Upon reaching it he was gratified to find a large
quantity of live coals, and, without hesitation,
he plucked and dressed the turkey, and pro-
ceeded to cook it.

The bird afforded him a most needed and
nourishing meal, besides furnishing enough for
future use; and now that his immediate wants
were attended to, Waring set to work in earnest
upon the all important object that had brought
him thither.

In the first place, it was necessary to discover
the trails of the two war-parties, and in trying
this he failed completely. Although gifted with
more than ordinary intelli ence, shrewdness,
and cunning, he had not yet earned enough of
the woods to follow the faint footsteps of the
wild Indians through its labyrinths when the
traces left were so faint that the human eye
unless trained by an experience of years, could
not detect the least signs of the passage of any

one.

Had the Shawanoes roceeded with their
usual caution, it would ave been absolutely
impossible for Waring to have followed them a
hundred yards through the wilderness. But,
fully conscious that no enemy that need cause
them the least uneasiness was in their vicinity,
they straggled forward as carelessly as a party
of schoolboys. This only was the reason why
our hero was, enabled to follow them.

Waring, under the belief that they had pene-
tratedvfurther into Kentucky, for a long time
examined the ground only upon that side of the
fire. His efforts meeting with no success. he
resorted to the opposite side, where the trail
was discovered at once.

It being impossible to find any further si ns
of the passage of the Shawanoes in any otger
‘direction, he concluded that both parties must
have gone this way, which, somewhat to his
surprise, led toward the river. Keeping along
on the trail, he found, as he had feared, that
they had embarked in their canoes, and gone
either up, down, or across the stream.

“And how am I to tell which way?” he mat--
tered. “I must run the risk of getting the
wrong choice out of these three.” Waring,
under ordinary circumstances, would have been
discouraged at the formidable obstacles which
now arose before him; but one of his tempera-
ment could never rest while the object of his
choice was a captive in the hands of the sava es,
gndkhe, therefore, did not once think ofturn ng

ac .1 *

“ y cannothave gone up the river,” he re
deflects“, _ _ they have come from that
direafiofi. 1nd at what reason is that why
,;they should not ave done so? Yet it strikes
:me that they have not, taken that course. They

 

could have gone mmore ra idly overland.
If their destination Is in Kentuc y, it surely is

‘ zed his piece. ' not on the banks of the Ohio; it must be a flood

'r-s

  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
 

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, ..‘.,¢...,...:,:..A~.»m..»,,z r s.

M  ,J A

 

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Buckwoodsma'u‘l.

'16

 

distance back from the river, s'o'that they would
only have lengthened their journey by taking
to the water. From all that I‘ have ever heard
or rend of the Shawanoe Indians-rto' whom
this war-party surely belongs——I have‘be'en led
to suppose that although'they range at will on
both sides of the river, still their towns and vil-
lages, and their home, in fact, is in southern
Ohio. And what more natural, now that they
have secured their prisoner, than that they
should return to their homes as rapidly as pos-
sible? Such, it seems reasonable to believe, is
the true state of the case, and I must cross the
river again." '

Waring was on the point of venturing into
the river, when his attention was arrested by a
loud splash in the direction of the flatboat, and
to his surprise he descried seVeral Indians upon
it. Finding that he was not observed, he drew
back and watched their actions.

A glance convinced him that they belonged
to the same war-party of Shawanoes, and were
searching the craft for p1undcr.- They had
thrown overa sort of bench, which was fast-
ened, bottom upward, to the stern of a canoe.
They were some half—dozen savages, who, a.
moment later, shoved off and paddled down the
stream.

Their light craft shot rapidly forward, inclin-
ing neither to one shore nor to the other. From
this, Waring’s belief that the main body had
crossed the river was 'changed into the convic-
tion that they had all gone down the stream in
their canoes; and that all that remained for
him to do, was to keep these red skins in sight.

This was a difficult task, indeed. Under the
skillful guidance of the sinewy Indian, their
canoe skimmed like a swallow over the water
and it required the most strenuous efforts oi
Waring to keep it in sight. Fortunately, in-
deed, the wood, a few yards from the shore,
wais Span, and his footsteps were not much im-
pe e . '

Hurrying thus forward, now and then dart-
ing to the river-bank,'he kept up the pursuit
for five or six miles, the canoe all the time gain-
ing upon him, until finally he lost sight of it be-
hind a bend in the riVer.

Waring was panting and pars iring, and in
no pleasant mood that, after all is efforts he
was compelled to fall behind, and be relaxed into
a sullen walk.

“ It seems as though everything is conspiring
against me,” he muttered. have done
everything in my power, and here I am at last,
left entirely alone, without knowing whither a
single one of my friends has gone. It matters
little what becomes of me. Acurse upon the
infernal Indians that have persecuted me thus!”

He walked moodin forward for an hour or
so, by which time he had passed the bend in the

river, around which the canoe had disappeared. .

The river at this point took a due southwest di-

rection, running so nearly strai ht that a View,

of several miles was afforded. othing. of , the

canoe, however could be seen.’ It ‘hadgone,’

Waring knew not where
Wearied and dispirited, he‘ threw himself

upon the ground, and endeavored to sleep. But ‘

he was too excited and nervous to‘rest: and de-
vourmz what he could of the remaining por-

l

 

tion of the turkey, he threw the rest from him,
and leaned his head on his hand to reflect upon
the best course for him to pursue.

He had lost all traces of the Indians and
their captives. How he should ever meet Vir-
ginia a sin it was impossible for him to ima-
gine. n the impenetrable depths of the great
wilderness which surrounded him, where the,
merciless red-men wandered for union how
could he, a single, unaided white man, follow ,
them? How-—- ’

The explosion of a rifle broke the stillness of

the woods, and springing to ‘his feet, Warin

hurried madly forward, scarcely conscious 0
what he was doing. After running a short dis-
tance he paused, and parting the bushes, gazed
upon a scene that thrilled his very being with '
the wildest of thoughts. ‘

CHAPTER XII.
AN EXPLOIT or mum surm’s.

HEZEKIAH SMITH awoke two full hours before u _ :v
Waring. Looking toward him, and noticing 3', 

that he was still slumbering, he concluded not
to disturb him; as he well know how exhausted
his frame must be. Feeling perfectly wakeful
himself, he arose to his feet and, looked around

him.
The first sensation experienced by the New . "

Englander was that of hunger—a craving for
food immediately. The sun had just risen [and
although he was well aware of the abun _ance
of game in the wood, he dared not fire his gun on,
account of the proximity of his enemies. , .

“I guess {’11 take a tramgdown the river ”
he concluded; “and when got out of their,
hearing I’ll knock something over, and out
enough to last me a week.” '

He looked down upon the tranquil face of
Waring.

“ He a pears to 3166 very sound, and I. glazes!
it’s hard y worth whi e to disturb him. e’ll
be there when Loome back, and allthe better
for the extra rest he has received.” ,

With this Iphilosophical conclusion, Hezekiah
wandered o

furghe; into Kentucky, and such. was his course
at rs .
viated to the right, parallel with the.0hlo.

But, unconsciously to himself, be de-, g.

,.

With no sensntion but that of hunger—with 1‘ "

the resolve to attend to that immediately and

at all hazards, Hezekiah hurried forward with- ‘ 'V

out once noticing thecourse he was pursuing,
or reflectingfithat it was more than .
would be entirely lost in the track ess wilder-v'

neas.
While still hurrying forward, his excited ear
detected the faint gobble in the woods, as if a ,
lost turkey were calling its com ions; and
proceeding ,stealthil onward, 9 suddenly
came upon a. .gobb er, that was wandering
about disconsolately asif indeed lost. Before
it could
chargedhls piece, but only wounded it. /
It started on on'a rapid run, and, féarful”~
that it would escape him if he paused to lead
his rifle, he

speed, and‘no need a most in
race. r

I

.’ ~ r-/-,'

'h afar it at the to of 
g t aging,

in the woods. It was his inten- 2: u i
tion to take a southerly direction, penetrating ,

 

robable he ' ':‘

get out of his reach. Hezekiah‘dik,,“ '7

 

 

 
  
 
 
  

 
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
   
   
    
  
  
  
   
 
    
   
 

    

90‘ . Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman.

 

All things considered, perhaps, in the condi-
tion of the gobbler, Hezekiah could outrun it,
that is, if both were given the same chance; but
the bird had a way of slipping through the un-
dergrowth, jumping under the bush~s, and trot-
ting over fallen trees, as though they were not
there that gave him an immense advantage
over his pursuer. '

The latter tore headlong through the bushes,
sometimes a. rodor two in the rear, sometimes
almost upon it, his hope constantly kept up to
a most exciting point, by tho hairbreadth es-
capes it made from him. More than once he
made a frenzied leap forward, and, as he fell
on his face, caught perhaps the tail feather of

/ the bird, while the bird itself glided through his
grasp, leaving a most vivid impression of its
tapering form upon his bands, which had
slipped ovar it so neatly. Then, again, he
would strike at it with his rifle, and perhaps pin
another feather to the ground.

' “Drat it!” exclaimed Hezekiah, after one of
those fruitless attempts. “ It’s enough to make
me swear. I’ll chase him as long as 1 can stand,
but what I shall get him."

It is a. fact, to which all hunters will testify,
that, in the exciting pursuit of their game, they

‘ can travel mile after mile with hardly any sen-
sible fatigue. It is not until they come to re-

’ trace their stegs that they realize how great a
distance they ave passed over. The attendant,
perhaps, whose mind dees not participate in the

‘ same excitement, is exhausted even in follow-

' ing the hunter.

Thus it happened that Hezekiah Smith, who

' would not have believed he had gone I ore than

, halfamile, chased the gobbler for fully en times

r, thatdistance at the end of which it did not
seem fatigued in the least, the wild turkey, as
,our readers are aware. being a noted runner.
, With no thought of giving it up, Hezekiah still

,~ pursued it at the top of his speed, occasionally
‘makin a lea forward at it, and the bird as
.often a udingh im as cleverly as ever.

“ Suddenly e caught the glimmer of some-

- thing through the trees, and to his joy, saw that

‘ they were approaching the banks of a river.

, He was now sure of the bird; he had fairly

 earned it; and his tormenting hunger was about
to be satisfied. 

'. " Gracefully and majestically as the bird

 reached the edge of the river it spread out its

; ‘wingi and, sailing through the air, landed up-

! on th Ohio side, and disap eared in the woods.

, “That is unpleasant. f my rifle had only
been loaded I would have finished him.”

In chasing the gobbler, with all his turnings

' and donblings, Hezekiah had become, “turned
around ” himself, so that it seemed to him the

= Ohio river was running in the. wrong direction,

* and that he was on the other side of it. Conclu-

ldlng, however, that such a phenomenon would

\ be a miracle, he kept on down the river, having

, decided that it would be useless to retrace his
stage, in the ho e of finding Waring.

.' V e was walk ng slowly forward, panting and

fatigued, when it struck him that there was a

,;peculiar smell in the air. It seemed as though

"somethin were burning, and, knowing that he

was in e midst of an Indian, country. he

 

guarded his steps, and kept a more watchful
eye upon his surroundings.

It turned out as ho had expected. He was
close upon an Indian encampment. He caught
a glimpse of the gaudy, fantastic costumes of
the savages through the trees, and approaching
as nigh as he could, he concealed himself, as
well as his position would admit.

It was with singular emotions that Hezekiah
recognized this party as the identical Shawa-
noes who had attacked his party, and who held
Pat Mulroony and Virginia Lander as captives.
The fact that they must have been here some
time proved that they had broken their last
night’s encampment at an early hour, and
dL'Bfll'le even before he himself had awakened.

he party seemed to have lost several of their '

number—some four or five—but there was no
mistaking the others. Hezekiah recognized
them at once. What surprised him still more,
was that none of the captives were visible.
What had become of them? Had they been
sent in advance, in charge of a, smaller party?
What possible cause could the Shawanoes
possess for taking such a step?

These questions ran rapidly through the mind
of the New Englander, but there was another
which constantly presented itself, and that was
the one in regard to obtaing food, for satisfy-
ing his hunger, which was constantly growing
greater. There seemed but one course left for
him, and that was to take to the woods again.
He was on the point of doing so when his heart
leaped at what appeared a most fortunate oc-
curreuce to him.

Several times he thought he had detected the
smell of burning meat, and the cause of it was
now explained. Some twenty rods to the right
of the encampment of the savages was a smaller
fire, at which a single squaw was cooking. At
the moment that Hezekiah caught sight of it,
this svuaw had left it, and the meat was en-
tirely unguarded. ‘

The temptation was too great; Hezekiah
was only sensible of his intolerable hunger.
Running back into the woods a few rods,
he came in the rear of the fire, and totally un-
mindful of his imminent danger, snatched the

‘meat, and seating himself upon the ground,

commenced devouring it like a wolf.

The first mouthful was dropped suddenly up-
on the lawn, being so hot that his tongue was
blistered. But he soon became used to it, and
in a few moments had swallowed the entire piece
gf 'meat, and was wiping his fingers upon his

air. '

“Just as much as I could ossibly get down
me,” he muttered. “ I couk n’t possibly swal-
low another mouthful, and—”

A shrill whoop suddenlybroke the stillness of
the woods, and turning his alarmed gaze behind
him, he saw the squaw, standing within a dozen
feet of him. She was fairly blue with fury,and
was screamin as if to split her lungs.

“ Heavens l’ exclaimed Hezekiah, who now
saw how foolhardy he had been. “the old wo-
man is riled considerably, and if I ain’t mistaken
them Indians are 1ikew1se.”

The outcries of the infuriated squaw had at-
tracted the instant attention of the Shawanoes,

   
   

 

;

i
l
i

 

   

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman. 2).

 

who had caught a sight of the white man as he
was rising to his feet, and three of their fleetest
runners started in pursuit.

ch:kiah Smith’s frame was gaunt and atten-
uated, and he was sinewy and muscular. He
was not only very fleet, but possessed bottom,
and was capable of holding his own against any
one, and he now darted into the woods at a rate
that excited the admiration of his pursuers.
The three se arated, so as to make sure of the
fugitive, am called all their energies into play
to overtake him.

The forest for a. considerable distance was
open, and afforded a good field for the runners.
The distance between Hezekiah and the Shaw-
anoes remained about the same for five or ten
minutes, when one of the latter discharged his
rill», and the white sprung high in the air with
a. loud yell. .

But he hadn’t been struck. It was only fright.
The report of the gun gave an impetus to his
flight, and soon carried him far ahead of the
red—skins. Dodging hither and thither, flitting
in and out among the trees, it was impossible
for the latter to gain anything like an accurate
aim, and they did not repeat the ‘attcmpt to

bring him down. \

All was now going well for the in 'tive, and
he would have escaped had he under 0d the
woods. But his ignorance was fatal. irectly
ahead of him was a. deep gor e, or ravine,
toward which the Shawanoes he managed to
turn his face without much difficulty, and un-
consciously to himself he was running directly
into a trap.

It was not until he was on the very brink that
Hezekiah realized his peril. His hair fairly rose
on his head, then, as he glanced about him. To
the right and left, stretched the deep yawning
gorge, too broad to be leaped over, and offering
no means of access except a sheer precipice,
down which it would have been certain death
for him to have gone. Escape was cut off! There
was no help for him! He was fairly at bay!

“ It’s no use of talking,” he exclaimed, wheel-
ing round, and placing his hack toward the
gorge. “ I’m cornered this time, and there’s
going to be a. row 1” _

Su saying, he clubbed his rifle, and awaited
the onset of the Shawanoesi

_ CHAPTER XIII.
A STRUGGLE OF LIFE AND DEATH.

THE Shawanoes, as we have before stated, had
separated during the pursuit, and were now
some distance apart. The center one being
directly in the rear, was the closest to the fugi-
tive, and came up to him considerably in ad-
vance of the others. This was fortunate, in one
sense, for Hezekiah Smith, as he then had but a
single opponent with which to contend.

The lithe, agile Indian was all eagerness to
secure the white as his captive and forgetful of
the axiom, “a stag at bay is a dangerous foe,”
he halt-ed not in the least, but came at full speed
toward him. When Within a rod or so, he
whirled his tomahawk in a circle over his head,
and hurled it with tremendous force full at the
breast of his dauntless adversary. The latter,
from the motion of his arm, comprehended what
was coming. and dodging his head with light-

 

 

ning quickness, the weapon flashed over him, .
and went spinning end over and down the steep
ravine. .

Both of the combatants had drop their
rifles and drawn their knivas. With a. emoniac
yell of triumph the painted Indian leaped high
in air, and swinging his knife, sprung upon his
foe. In a twinkling both were disarmed in usin-
gular manner.

It so happened that the two struck at each
other at precise] the same moment: the knivas
encountered wit such force that the Shawa-
noo’s shot out of his hand and followed the tom-
ahawk down the ravine, while Hezekiah’s was
turned so suddenly that it fell to the ground
several yards distant. Both were now entirely
unarmed, and glaring at each other forasec~
end, like baflled ti ers, they closed in the strug-
gle of life and deal; .

In point of strength the two were very nearly
equal y matched. In activity the red-skin had
decidedly the advantage, but the white man be.
ing an expert wrestler, and the savage a,perv 
feet novice, the former was in afair way to end

the contest in his own favor. The instant he ,
grappled with his dusky adversary, he felt that

he was in his power. . .

By a trick, or rather art, well known to’ 
wrestlers, Hezekiah twisted the savage of! his
feet, and threw him with stunning violence ,.
upop the ground, falling heavily upon him. AL, .
lowmg him to rise, he repeated the performance
several times, the red-skin becoming more and - w
more exhausted each moment, until it was .
manifest to himself that he had not the shadow 
of a. chance in such warfare as this. .

The cunning Shawanoe had noticed where the, ' 
knife of his adversary fell, and each time that“. .'
he went down he managed to work himself I -'
nearer to it. Hezokiah did not comprehend what .-
he_was at, until the savage clutched it with thei a, ;
guickness of thought, and rising againxto his .‘

cet, confronted him with the weapon. ‘ * ,

Not the least daunted, for he was now terribly 
excited—he closed again with, the Indianpre.
ceiving an ugly cut in his arm as he did so. At .
this moment he heard the yells of the other two V
Shawanoes, and driven to fury byhis imminent 1A
peril, he concentrated all his strength in the 
one mighty effort, and grasping his adverse '. 
around the waist, he lifte him clear ofl h s 

/<.\

feet, and flung him like an infant over the preci- {
pice. ~

.Down, like a meteor, through the dizzy
air, shot the Shawanoe, with his arms clutching -' 
wildlyhat space, spinning from are to crag.
With his awful cry coming up like the wail of ‘.
some spirit!
. The struggle occupied Icarcely a fifth of the
time taken in describing it. Im lled b the '
most implacable hate on each aid); the lows '-
were quick and fierce and the, termination"~
speedy and tragic. A shock when the two en,‘ ,
countered, a few blows and striving another? X
struggle, more determined than the others, and ~
it was ended. ' :
Hezekiah had secured his knife before throw- .‘ ;-
iiig the savage into the ravine, and with this-17.
single weapon be confronted his two foes. - They?’
were both ahout the same distance from him, 5:1
and he was in doubt whether to expect their;

\~r

 

    

\/

. shoving him over.

1

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwooésman.

 

united onset at the same moment, or whether
they were going to attack him singly. The lat—
ter proved to be the case. One of the Indians
seem
in authority than the other; for waving his
hand for him to keep his distance, be advanced
u on the white man, with the determination of
d sposing of him, without assistance from any
one else.

This savage was a. much more formidable foe
than the other, and Hezekiah being considerably
exhausted from his recent efforts he was in a
poor condition to receive him. Nevertheless,
there was no help for him, and he showed an
undaunted front. The Shawanoe halted a. mo-
ment as if to decide upon the best method of
attack, and then, with a yell as demoniac as the
other, sprung forward.

He had passed over half the space intervon-
lag between him and his adversary, when he
uttered another yell—a short, frenzied, agonizad
one and throwing his arms aloft, fell deadl

Hezekiah had caught the report of a. rifle, and
saw a red spot suddenly appear on the forehead
of the Shawanoe, so that he understood at once
that he had been shot. But who had come up
and fired his piece so opportunely? What
friend had he in the Dark and Bloody Ground?
Why did his friend remain concealed?

The remaining red-skin had halted upon see-
ing his companion fall by the mysterious shot,
but he evinced no disposition to flee. On the
contrary, he continued to approach,~fully re-
sol vsd that the foe should not escape him.

“ By thunderl you’re the only one left, and I
reckon as how I can dispose of you,” exclaimed
Hezekiah, preparing to receive him. “Though
it their should he pen to be another rifle
around, it would mighty welcome just
now.” ,

‘ The Shawanoe had learned caution from
what he had witnessed, and although as brave
as a mortal could possibly be, be deemed it
best to use prudence in the case. His mode of
attack was peculiar. He commenced slowly
circling around his adversary, ,his black, snake-
like eye fixed upon him, while the latter kept,

, turning, as if on a pivot, so as to confront him.

— In going in this circular manner, the Indian
came tothe very brink of the precipice, so that
his form stood out in relief upon it. More than
once when he was in this position, Hezokiah
was upon the point of springing forward and
His heart throbbed pain-
fully, as be balanced himself for the leap, lest
the risk'wal too eat for him to attempt it.
He more than ha fsuspected the Indian was
maneuvering for that purpose, and would suc-
ceed in throwing him over instead.

All at once with the inevitable whoo the
red-skin bounded forward, and struck at eze<
kiah with his drawn knife. Singular as it may

, Seem, the two weapons encountered in precisely

the same manner as did those of the first two

combatants. and both were as suddenly de-

prived of all arms, except such as nature gave

hem.
As the two closed in with each other, it seem-

‘ ed to Heaekiah that this Indian was much more
powerful. and difficult to manage than the

other, orposaibly his own strength was failing.

/ .

to be a sort of chief, or, at least, higher.

 

Remembering, however, that he was the only
foe which it .was necessary to overcome, and
that a prolonged contest might bring some of
his companions to the scene, he summoned all
his strength to this last conflict.

He succeeded in throwing the Shawanoe, and
falling heavily upon him, but it required such
an expenditure of strength that he doubted
whether this means'of exhausting him would
not first “use up ’.’ himself. Furthermore, he
found it impossible to hold his foe. W’hether
his body was greased or not, he could not tell,
but the red-skin kept up such a twisting and
squirming that he glided from his grasp as
easily as an eel could have escaped him.

Concluding that it was vain to hope for any
success by means'of wrestling, Hez-kiah now
built his efforts toward drawing him to the
edge of the cliff with the determination of
throwing him oVer. The savage cmnprehendml
his intention, and'prohably believing he could
do the same thing with the white man, favored
his efforts, and in a few seconds both were
upon the very brink of the precipice.

And now commenced the awful struggle.
With sinews strained to their utmost tension,
with limbs braced and and pressed against each
other, their chests heaving. with teeth set, and
their eyes gleaming with the most implacable
hate, the combatants strove together!

In reaching the edge of the ravine, the Shae
wanoe was on the inside—that is, he was the
nearest to it—and Hezekiah succeeded in keep-
ing him there. Gradually working him nigher
and nigher to the dread chasm, until he felt his
strength going, the New Englander gathered
his knee to his breast, and summoning all his
power, with .,one mighty effort he kicked the
savage from him and’over the cliff!

But horror of horrorsl in going over, the
Shawanoe caught him with ,both hands by the
ankle, and Hezekiah felt himself following! He
clutched the twigs and stones within his
grasp, but the all yielded and camewith
him. and he cou d not shake of! the dreadful
incubus that was drawin him on to death.
He screamed and shouts , and blistered his
hands in his efforts to ‘stay himself, but it was
all useless. ‘ '

Further, further, further—the Shawanoe’s
weight seems to increase each second—the white
man's outspread hands slide over the earth and
rock l—he is going, going, goingl—his head slips
over! and now dowu lites meteor, through the
dizzying air, with wild, ecstatic thrills shoot-
ing through his brain—a second’s delirium—
nn awful. stunning shock—and all was dark!
The lifeless forms of Hezekiah Smith and the
Shawanoe Indian lay side by side at the bottom
of the gorge!

The reader will recollect that Luther Waring,
in wandering through the woods suddenly
came upon an unexpected scene, and' rushed
forward ins. state of great excitement. The
sight that at his gaze was Hezekiah Smith and
the second ndiau struggling together. With-
out a moment’s reflection be discharged his
piece, killing the savage as before related. He
was about to rush forward to the rescue of his
friend,when he caught sight of the third Indian -
and believing that a party' had just arrived, and

 

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Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Buckwo‘odnman. 28

 

that he could afford him no assistance, and that
he was in imminent danger of his own capture,
he turned and fled. . .

Running some distance, he was considerabldy
surprised to find that he was not pursue ,
and suspecting, that, after all, he might have
been mistaken, he cautiously retraced his
steps. He arrived at the spot of the tragic
scene we have just described, and looking over
the brink, descried the two inanimate forms
lying below.

With a painfully throbbing heart he hurried
throth the forest, and bya circuitous route
entered the gorge. In a short time he came
upon the two Indians and his friend. All three
were bruised and bleeding, and as Waring
looked above him at the hight of the preci-
pice, he took a melancholy consolation in the
thought that the death of Hezekiah Smith had
been speedy and almost painless.

“Would that I could give him a decent
burial,” he murmured: ‘but I cannot. He
shall not remain here, however, to rot beside
those fiendish savages. I will do what I can
for him.”

Taking him in his arms, he carried him some
distance to where there was a mass of debris
and stones at the sid of the ravine. Here
depositing him carefu 1y upon the ground,
he first covered him over with brush, and then
stones, until his body was entirely hidden from
sight. The principal object in doing this was
to secure his remains against outrage from the
savages.

“ arewell,” said Waring, as he turned
away. “ I have known you but a short time,
and have learned but little of you, but I have
learned enough to know that you were a
FRIEND; and now, a. last adieu to you, my
FRIEND!”

With a saddened, mournful heart, he turned
away and. walked slowly through the ravine.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
AN waxrsc'rnn MEETING.

Wsmc‘s meditations, as he walked through the
orge were gloomy and melancholy enough. Now,

de , he felt he was alone. Two of his compan-
ions had been slain, and the other two captured; and
what could he, single and unaided, accomplish
a ainst these inhuman denizens of the wilderness?
A lately nothing]. ,

And ye be con d not persuade himself to give
u the hope ofaflnal rescue of Virginia Lander.
That hope gone, life looked dark and gloomy lO
him. Rather than never see Ilf'!‘ again, he felt that -
lhie could willingly share captivity and death with
or.

 

The plan which Waring at len h decided upon,
was to make his way to the sett emcnt, and seek
the. aid-of the settlers. He could he no great dis-
tance from it: and, as the Bhawanoes seemed to
linger in the forest, there could be little difficulty in
fln kg and following their trail. I
Wi . head bent, and with feelings saddened .
and thoughtf from the hful scenes he had ,
'ust witnessed, armg w slowly forward until
9 had emerged from the gorge and was again I
threading the shadowy woods. At length he en. .
tered a portion where the undergrowth became'
more tangled and dense, and where from necessity
he ,was compelled to recall his mind from its rave. ,
lie and occupy it with his immediate duties. l

he threw himself a on the ground for. a few mini
utes’ rest. He ha scarcely seated himself when
he was fairly startled out of his senses by hearing
the hum of voices! Listening carefully. he soon
distinguished the words:

“Be nrra. it’s meself that‘s thinking thlsJis the
most elightful retrate of' my life, barring that it
was a retrate from necessity. What do you think
of it my lcddy?"

“on I am so thankful to be free from those
loathsome Indians that have ersecutedussolon 1"

“ If we only had that long— tagged Hezekiah Sm th,
and the him some young folly at ye calls Waring,
how much more pleasant the retrace would sech
Eh, wouldn’t it now?"

“I do indeed pray that they may rejoin us. Since
my poor father has fallen, I am lonely enough with
him also gone. Who knows but that he, too, is in
their hands?"

“It’s mesclf that understands or feelings. I
mind the time that I lost Molly cMooney at the
Tipperary fair, me heart was broken lutirely till I
found her ag’in.“

Could Waring behave his ears? Those surely
were the voices of Pat Mulroony and Virginia
Lander, and from their words the were one.
Could it be they had escapism Had e Shawanoes
voluntarily freed them? hat could it all mean?

He arose and looked around him. Yes‘ but afew
rods away he saw the two seated by a. sniall fire, as

comfortable as if on some pleasure excursion. The ' ' ‘

genial face of the Irishman was wreathed in smiles,
as he blinked tlirou h the smoke at the girl upon
the opposite side. T 6 face of the latter was pale,
and she were a saddened, thoughtful expression
for it was hard for her to smile at the Witticrsms of v
her good-natured companion, when her terrible be- ~
rcavement was so recent. ' . ‘

Hardly able to restrain his emotions, Warn? ap-
proached the two. As he did so, the backo Vu~
ginia was turned toward him,'while the Irishman
faced him. The latter immediately ca. ht s h
of him and signaling him to stem-said to i I a:

“ Did you ever hear, my leddy, that Pat M by
was a. ma ician?" '

She loo ed up as if she did not comprehendlds
question.
vfu} magician? What do you mean?” returned

irgxuxa. I

“A man who on account ofhissuperior vartues
is gifted with more than mortal powers. One who
can do anythin ."

Thinking the words of the'Irishman to be nothing ’ I

more than some jest, intended to divert her atten- '
tion from her grief, V ' a made no reply. '
“Whisht, nowl ye doesn’t belave me, I see. '
S'pose I should call 111p that young Waring that he».
Engsggyees out of t 1e ground, would you then be-yv
V8 2 -
“I am in no mood for such trifling," said she.,
with a l‘eproving look. “ I would prefer you not to 2
disturb me.” '
“Whisht, now, jist look.” . w ‘
Pat Mulroony s_ inoantations to convince hlsfair ,
companion ‘of his supernatural powers we , ’

as t
, singular. as they were characteristic. Pitfiiing 
, forward, he came down upon his hands so as to .-

invert himself, where balancing himself for amo-
ment, he kicked his feet in the air several times
with such vigor that one of his shoes flew off. This
accomplished, he came down‘again, rephaeed his 1
shoe, and danced what he termed the “ p rory ,
Reel," after which he suddenly became  
exclaimed: . '
“ Look behind yeesi Mr. W . a I” - ..
Virginia would not have obeyed m she not R w.
detected the laugh of her lover as the Irishman f -
spoke. Starting up and turning around, shaman, 'r
next instant cl (1 in his arms. .
“Thank God! hank Godi" exclaimed the w

a had penetrated perhaps, a third of a mile adventurer fervently. "Found at last. 0
into this undergrowth. whenmocominz exhausted. rejoiced I am!" ,- ‘ ‘ 11'

   

/ . u'

, r,'\
C

 

   

84

Exploits of Hezekiah Smith. the Backwoodsman.

 

Virginia could not speak; her joy was too great
for words.

Durin this affecting scene the Irishman pretend-
edtobe usily occupied with the fire. He did not
replenish it, but kept displacing the embers as if to
make them burn better. The air being uite warm
and enial, it seemed strange that he s ould have
kin ad it; but the cause was his excessive polite-
ness and consideration for the fair charge in his
hands. Noticing that Waring’s actions scemcd some-
what restrained, he said encouragingly:

“ Don’t be scart, don't be scart, 1 isn’t watching
yees. It's point of honor with Pat Mulroony ln‘vcr
to disturb a couple when engaged in courting. Pl’ase
proceed."

“We have no disposition to do anything of the
kind at present,” re lied Waring. “I am Slu‘pl‘isrd,
Pat that you shoul have esca ed from the Indians
with Virginia. here, when a s ort time since you

were both prisoners in their hands. Pray, how came

it to happen?”
“It idn’t happen at all jist. Pat Mlllroony is
, the boy that is up to them same tricks. He is the
one that understands the blackguard haythen—he

“ I do not doubt that; but let me hear the account
of this exploit of yours."

“ Be orral where is the long-legged chap, Hizi-
kiah, t at e had with yees?" ,
- Waring, n a few words, related what is already
known to the reader; and then re eated his re ucst
to the Irishman foran account 0 his escape mm
the Shawanoes. .

“Wal, ye seas, the way that it happened was this:
I s’pose you know how i was took on that ould flat-
boat?‘

“Yes; your own foolishness was the cause of it. A

. You need not relate that. Give us what happened
subsequently."

“ Wal, ye sans, the haythen had us pretty fast. and
it was mi hty onsartain the way things looked.
Whishtl w tie that?" t

The near report of a rifle suddenly broke. the stlll-
ness of the woods, and the two speakers lnstantly
sat down where they were better protected by
the nude wth from observation. All interest
waistimm iater centered upon the one thought of
as e .

“Igm afraid that we are still in imminent peril.”
whis cred Waring. “Those Shawanoes, without
doub , are upon your trail."

“ No, he the powers, they ain’t!”

“ Don’t be too sure. my friend. Those lynx-eyed
sav es will follow the hghtest footsteps.”

“ ot if they’re made in the water—eh, boyi’f

Wiaigng began to comprehend matters. Still he
re 6 :

RYou are some distance from the river re-
member, and neither you nor Virginia could et
to this s 1: without leavinga trail which these n-
dians con (1 follow without the least difficulty. ‘

“ S’p’owse they didn’t know where to look for the
same.

“That may all be," replied Waring, somewhat
petulantly; ‘ and yet what Isay is true. They are
constantly ranging through the wood, and it is
by no means improbable that the traces of your pas-
sage aliefiscovered. But let us cease talking for the
l resen .

p The two listened for several moments, when hear-
ing nothing further, the Irishman cautiously arose
and commenced peering around him. Ere he had
half-turned his head, he suddenly drop ed to the

round n with a. suppressed exclamat on.

“He’s ht out there!” he whispered.

“ Where Who is there? What do you mean?"

“ Abloody big Shawanoe, in his war-paint, leaning

ainst a tree out there."

I’fililitating the motion of Pat Mulroony, Waring de-
scried the so in questlon, standing as he had re-
marked. His was turned toward the whites,
so that it was impossible to discern his teatures. He

 

was rather tall in stature. and appeared to have his
arms folded. as if he were exhausted.
“ Wait till i show yees a specimen of Pat Mul-

roony's shooting," said the Irishman reachin out
few the gun of Waring. But the latter r used
I

“ It looks too much like murder."

“ It‘s mighty little like murder their dailings with
us Iuks. be the same token."

“ His death can do us no good," added Waring.
“The report of our rifle would attract the attention
of the savages in the vicinity, and we could not
again escape their clutches.”

“ Ye talks now like a raisonable person," said the
Irishman. somewhat mollifled at the explanation.
é; Hist a moment till I takes another look at the gin-

cman."

Pat Mulroony's head commenced slowl rising,
while as his knees glx‘adually strai htened, his arms
were eibowed, and is hands kep flapping like the
fliplpers of a turtle—the instinctive admonition to the
loo ers on to maintain a profound silence.

As his head rose to its full hivllt. Waring saw.
from the sudden light that filled in eyes. that he
had discovered something further. Without remov-
ing his gaze. he motioned for his com anion to look.
The latter did so, and descried the S awanoe walk-
ing away in the woods. In a few moments he had
disa pcared, and the three were left alone.

aring turned to Virginia, and assured her that
the danger had assed, and that she need feel no
further alarm. he would not move from their
present position ullti nightfall, when the chance of
escape would amount almost to a certainty. After
this. the young adventurer again demanded of the
Irishman an account of his ‘ght from the Shawn-
noes, and he. nothing lath, proceeded to give it.

We choose to relate it in our own words.

 

CHAPTER XV.
AN morr or PAT moon's.

Dunme the captivity of Pat Mulroon and Virginia
Lander. the Shawanoes kept them so ulously apart.
Althou h Pat ventured to address her several
times, e was compelled to do it in tones loud
enough for all to hear him, though whether they un-
derstood him or not was altogether a diflerent mat-

ter.

The Indians remained at their camp, where War-
ing had seen them through the night. As he had
supposed, the party had divided. one division taking
be the captives with them. The cause of this was,
the Shawanoes were upon the war-path, and the
whole company. numberlng oyer twenty warriors.
had set out to attack a small Village belong-inf to a
hostile tribe. Having infllcted about all t e njury
that it was possible for them to inflict against the
whites, they‘ were now anxious to proceed with
their expedltlon. As their prisoners could be noth-
ing_more than an incumbrance to them, eight of
their number were detailed to conduct them to one
of the Shawanoe towns in southern Ohio.

The separation of the Shawanoes was made early
in the evening, and before it was fair] light. the
two parties were proceeding in the irection of
their respective destinations. The main garty ro-
ceeded down the river on the Kentucky de, w lie
the eight Indians embarked in separate canoes with
their captives.

Six Indians were in one of the boats, and two in
the other, exciudin the ca tives. It was intend-
ed that the two partles shoul keep companme pre-
vent anly chance of escape by the burly lr hman
althoug in his present helpless condition, bound
and secured as he was, a boy could have taken care
of him without assistance. _

The gra morning mist was just lifting from the
01110. as t a two canoes shot out from the Kentucky
shore, and sped swift] down the river. The point
at which they intende to land upon t e other side,
was several miles tumult down. as them con.

     

 

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Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Baokwoodsman.

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slderably nearer their town than a direct passage
across the stream would have done. The Irishman,
who understood a few words of the Sl'lawanoe
tongue. had gathered this much from the conversa-
tion of the savages before starting.

The two Indians who used the paddles were seated
in the stern of the canoe, scarcely a foot a art,
while Virginia was near the center, and Pat ul-
roony in the bow, his back being turned down-
stream, and his face toward his captors. In this
position, the captives were constantly under the
gaze of the lynx-eyed Shawanocs, and could not
converse. even in whispers, without being seen.
Nevertheless, the Irishman had no hesitation in at-
tem tin it.

“ 'ss irginn , how is it e faals jist new?”

“ Sadly enou ," she rep ied. “ Our only hope is
in Providence.’

“If I only had my hands loose," whispered Pat,
“ I would smash them two copper-skins lhere in the
stern, and run in to shore, in spite of the haythen in
the other vissel."

“Perhaps they would loosen your hands it you
requested them to do so."

" Begorrai but they won‘t though."

"You might try it, Pat; make believe your bonds

hurt you, and I have no doubt they will loosen‘
them. ’

After a moment’s thought, Pat determinch to try
the artifice which his fair companion had recom
mended. Accordingly he began groaning and twist
lng his face into all manner of contortions, in order
to enlist their sympathy for his suffering. It was
little sym thy the savages felt for him. but his
moans an struggles were so persistent and annoy-
ing that the foremost Indian, with one blow of. his
kmi’e, freed his arms. refusin , however, all his en-
treaties to do the same thing or 1115 feet. _

“Ugh! keep still—kill with knife—don’t," said he,
threateningly.

Pat Mulroony had succeeded far better than he
had dared to hope, He felt consxderably elated
thereby, and, rising up in his seat, commenced
“qokmg " with his grim ca tors.

‘Ye handles them go. dies as if yees was used
tgjgm. Be the same ken maybe ye is. How is

But the stoical Shawanoes deigned not to notice
him. and Pat continued:

“Begorra, but Ker mothers must be proudof
slch boys as yees, t at is if ye has nry mothers, Do

on mind that haythen there in the starn. Virginny?

all now, of I had to make a guess about .nm, I
should say he was a. cross between an Irish chimney
swap and a. monkey from the South Seas. It must
be swate for a gal to be hugged by ees." ;

The canoes were now rather c ose to the Ken-
tucky shore. and constantly approaching mghcr, al-
though Pat Mulroony, who had his eyes about him,
was at a loss to conjecture the cause of this move-
ment. The other canoe was considerably in ad-
vance—its inmates finding it difficult to time their
velocity to the tardy movements of their two com-
pamons.

‘Of’ course the remarks of the Irishman were not
comprehended by either of the Shawanoes, al-
though they now and then caught a word: But it
was e to see from his pleasant e e, lns broad

ii, an the rollickjn expression of is face, that

e was in the best 0 spirits. Despite the stern,
gloomy exterior of the foremost savage there was
a spice of waggery in his composition, and his black,
snake-like eyes softened somewhat in expression as
he looked upon the jovial Irishman.

" Paddle um cancel" suddenly remarked this In-
dian. handing his addle to him.

“ Of course i wi ,” replied Pat, eagerly taking the

proffered adrile.
He dip it d into the water and attempted
to makea powerfu sweep with it; but it turned lh

his hand. cuttlnz throuflh the water like a knife.

.I

 

and with such velocity as nearly to throw him
overboard. Both sava es laughed at his awk-

wnrd movements, while i: e Irishman worked all the

harder.

“‘Get in the bow of the boat," he whispered to
Virginia, as he kept hard at work. The girl arose
and exchanged places with him, the savages look-
ing upon her movement as a volunta one upon
her part, to be safe from the erratic b ows‘ of the
toiling captive. By and b these became soamus-
ing, t at the remaining S wanoe ceased working
in order to watch him.

There were three noticeable facts which entirely
escaped the observation of the savages. The t
was that the other canoe was a considerable dls~

tance in advance of them-«much further than they -

would have been willing to allow. had their atten-
tion been called to it. The second was that a few
hundred yards downstream, a large creek put in
from the Kentucky shore; and the last, and cer-
tainly most important one, was that in spite of the

awkward, aimless eflorts of the Irishman, the canoes

was approaching slowly but surely the mouth of
this creek. The latter fact might possibl have
been merely accidental, but a suspicious 0 server
would not have believed this. Vlr min. too, noticed
an e ression in the eyes of Pa Mulroony, that
made or heart beat faster. \
Nearer and nearer approached the canoe to the
eddying mouth of the creek. The Indians
and unsuspicious did not notice it until they were
fairly within it. Then one of them reached forward
to take the ear.
“ Ugh! turn back!" 1
The Shawnnoe suddenly dropped back having re-
ceived a stunnin blow u on the head from the
heaviest end or t e ear. 0 violent was it, that,
striking the edge of the canoe, he rolled over-as
helplessly as a log. '
“Begorra, but I axes yer pardon!” exclaimed
Pat, to the struggling savage. “But! handles the
paddle so awkwardly that- Holy virgin! if I have»
mm: the other 1mth
overboard 1, What’s got into me paws?"

The second sava e had sprung up. as his com— " 

panion Went into t 6 water, but, as nick as ht-
nin , he dropped back in his seat, catc ing the dos
of t e canoe so firmly, that he did not 0 out of it.
The Irishman’s blows bein “sid

is, on the side of the head, 1'. eir'natural result was

ewin ers,”—that ' ‘

grinning _

en a crack, too, and he’s gone\ 7, 3

to send the recipients overboard. and the Shawanoe .

in question saved himself so nan-owly,'that Pat ‘was
mistaken in supposing that he was following his
comrade.

“That was another awkward piece of business

Let me tip ye another ili ant whack with me shilia: V.
Pat Mulroony, from Tip-,

Ere the second blow caught the savage, lags? g ‘
w e 9

lab, in the true style 0
perary.”

vent to a screeching yell, loud enough
dead. But it did not save him from whisking over.
the canoe like a frog, and going down out o! ht.

The first Indian had by this time arisen, a was
endeavoring to climb into the canoe. His hideous
face eluted and agleam with the most deadly
feroci y, had appeared over the gunwale and
frail vessel was in momentary danger of coming
apart or sinking. -

“ Go round to the stam, if ye wants to come inl"
exclaimed l’at, striking him a tremendous blow in
the face With his fist, that quickly loosened“ his
hold. Dipping the paddle into the water. the Irish-
man now plie it w th a skill fully
the shawanoes themselves sendi
deriul velocity directly up the cree .

But the second canoe h
was wrong before the yell of their unfortunate com-
rade had reached their ears, and the
fairly flyinapover the water, toward 6 captives.
The Irishman. with a coolness, and presence of

t with 3 won-

' mind that was remarkable under the circumstances.‘

no! tothatof 

were now "

i .

 

 

ad seen that something-

 

   
 

    

Exploits of fiezehiah Smith, the Bucthodsmam

 

seated himself in the stern, and keeping a sharp eye
upon either bank, sent his canoe swiftly up t e
creek 8. preaching closely to neither shore.

He h calculated to a second almost, the instant
when the pursuing Indians would arrive at the
mouth of the creek, and consequently, how long he
might ascend it Without danger of discovery. Vir-
ginia, who kept her gaze fixed toward the river, an-
nounced that the two Indians had swam to the
mainlan and were evidently awaiting the ap-
proach 0 their companions.

It was the intention of the Irishman, when he as-
cended as far as he durst, to sheer the canoe under
the ri ht. bank, which, fortunately for him, was pro-
tecte by dense, overhanging under rowth, and
concealing his vessel as well as circums ances would
permit. to hurry into the woods; but at the moment

is dipped his paddle for the dpurpose of doing so,
he made a discovery which in used him to change
his mind.

But a comparatively short distance from the
Ohio, the creek divided into four narrow branches,
scarcely more than three or four yards in width.
Behaving that the Indians would have no means of
learning the course he had followed, he shot the
canoe into the lower one of these, and the next min-
ute had disappeared from view.

The fugitive ascended this branch of the creek for

‘ a furlong, when it became so narrow and rapid, that

/

the expenditure of labor was too great to pay them

for going further by this means of locomotion.

Touching the shore, irginia sprung out, thelrish-

man followed, pulling the canoe after him, and re-

arranging the bushes behind, so as to disarm their

Bursuers of any suspicion, should they follow as
igh up the branch as this point.

Determined that the canoe, it discovered, should
afford them no good Pat Mulroony turned it over,
and springing upon the bottom, inflicted an irrepar-
able injury, by stavingar it in.

V “Come on. me led " said he to Virginia, “ and
when ye mates Mister aring, ye can tell him that
Pat Mulroony hails from Tipperary, and can taach
him how to use the shillalah. ’ "

An hour or so later, they reached a spot in the
forest, which, pleasing the fancy oi’ the rishman,
be orde shalt, for the purpose of resting them-
selves. Declarmg that Virginia must be cold. in
spite of her (protestations to the contrary, he per-
sisted in km ling a fire, which had been burning but
a short time, when Waring made his appearance, as
we have aimed related.

“ And now, a ut how far off is that settlement?"

‘ fished Pat Mylroony, at the conclusion of his narrow

 

'this minute? The ould man is dead—hopin

ion.
“It cannot certainly be over eight or ten miles, at
the most, as we have been proceeding toward it all

' the while. We surely ought to be able to reach it in
a few hours.”

“And what is there to hinder us from startiililg

e
leddy will excuse me—and that long-legged eze-
kiah has given up the ghost, and we’re all that’s left
of the arty which was on the flatboat a few days
since. fie'n we‘re all here, I makes the move that
we starts at once, and have this blatherin’ matter
done wid.”

“There is only one thing that troubles me," said
Waring. “ I'm afraid that a. number of those Sha-
wanoes are in the vicinityhand ifwe venture out,
we run too great a risk of being seen.”

“Begorra, but how are we going to manage it
after all?" queried the Irishman, With great sur-

rise. »
1)“Wait until darkness, when we will run little
chance of being seen by those who are eVidently
watching for us." v .

“And how will we find the way to the Village, it

ou‘ve no ob cation to tellus, as that long-legged
. , to say. when he asked a question or
us?’
“Easy enoush by tollowinz the river. As the

settlement is upon the banks of the Ohio, we surely
shall discover it if we do not stray oi! into the
woods,"

“ Begorra, but that’s the plan fur yecs.”

It was decided that the bust Course was for them
to be on the move at once, rovided they could do
so without incurring any a ditional danger. The
way to the river appeare to be the least frequented
by their foes, and his plan was to approach this as
near as convenient, and follow closely its bank,
keeping carefully under the cover of the shrubbery
and dense undergrowth.

The river could be reached in half an hour at
least, provided no unexpected obstacle should pre-
sent itself, and, with Waring taking the lead, the
three set out.

The gallant guide could not restrain his misgiv-
ings, as he cautiously stole through the woods, and,
more than once, he debated with himself whether
it was not best to turn back, and wait for the cover
of darkness before attempting to reach the settle-
men .

They had gone scarcely half the distance, when a
' aint-beduiibod Shuwauoo was discerned coming

oward them. Si nailing to those behind him, War-

ing sunk down 0 the ground, and, clutching the
handlg of his knife, breathlessly awaited his ap-
proac . ,

The head of the savage was bent, as though he
were searching the ground for something. and lie
was walking slowly, little dreaming that the ver
ones he was so anxious o discover, were so ni"
him. As fortunately. indeed for himself, as for t e
whites, he changed is direction, and, in a few mo-
ments, was out of sight.

The fugitives resumed their nfully laborious
flight, and finally reached the river-hank, rejoiced
enough that, as yet, their enemies had learned noth-
ing of their whereabouts. Here, underneath the
almost impervious undergrowth, they felt more at
gasethan they had since they had been joined by

aring.

“What time might it be?” asked the Irishman.

“ Near the middle of the afternoon—if not later."

“ We’ll stay here then until night. What sa ye?"

The roposal of Pat Mulroony coincide with
what arin deemed best for the party, and ac-
eordingly, i was determined to remain in their
aresent position until night closed around them.

The few hours that yet remained ere the lirotect-
tlg darkness could come, were hours of the most

sinful suspense to the fugitives. Neither of them

ardly dared to stir from his hiding-place, and when
the conversed, it was only in the whispered words
0 ear.

It may well be a question whether the Shawanoes
were really searching for t e whites, for it seemed
barely possible that if such were the case, they
could have he! ed findin the trail. It was more
probable that t e Indians ad moved to this portion
of the wood, and, those of their numberw 0 had
been seen, were only wandering hither and thither,
without any ostensible object. '

Be that as it may, the sun was still in the heavens,
when the sharp ears of Virginia Lander can ht the
sound of a footste near them. Touching Val-mg
on the shoulder s e communicated the startling
fact to him, and he admonished the Irishman to
maintain a strict silence.

It was soon evident that an Indian was close at
hand and that he was between the fugitives and
the r ver—a position in which it was barely ossible
for him to ass them, Without both. parties
ing each ot er. It was manifest too, from the care-
lessness with which he was proceedin that he had
no suspicion of the proximity of the w tes.

Soon the form of the Shawanoe was discerned
through the intricacies of the bushes, and the f -
tives, sinking down to the earth, kept their eyes -
tently fixed upon him. From his manner, it was
1 plain he was searching for something, although
i whether that something was our friends or some

 

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Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodst I 8'!

 

 

i other object, they had no means of determining. , The darkness came on earner than usual thus

«9:, He kept his head down most of the time. occasional- ‘ hastened b me mammnng of the storm. '5
‘ 3 13’ ‘901‘1‘13 “P Wit-ha puzzled. 011110115 expressmm .113 , forces, on the three fugitives stole from t e
K which time. so close was he thet. the black pupils lbushes and commenced their journey tow“ the

 of his basilisk eyes were plain y v1s1ble to the whites. settlem‘emh '

A remarkable fact in regard to this Indian was,
that he had no rifle with him, and nothing except a.
knife carried in his girdle. This. however did not
make him a less dangerous personage to the fugi—

tives, should they be discovered. A single yell from

The Erogress of the whites was necessaiil slow,
from t e caution exercised. For aconsidom le dis' ~
tnnce Waring led the way when he yielded to the 4
earnest solicitation of Pat Mulroouy and allowed
him to take the advance. while he fell behind, and

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him would bring a horde of the red—skins upon them
before even they could extricate themselves from
the bushes which sheltered them.

What pen shall describe the emotions of the fugi-
tives as they saw the Shawanoe lower h's elves, and
gaze straight through the bushes at t rem—so
straight. in fact, that Waring, who was nearest the
fiver, felt confident that he was looking directly at

um.

Still he uttered no sound, and gave no evidence
that he had discovered anythiu'v unusual in the un-
dergrowth before him, although Waring could not
comprehend how such could be the case, for the
gaze of the Indian was fixed steady and penetrat-

m a

guildenly the oung man heard a movement be-
hind lilm. He ( urcd not turn his head, but he sus-
pected the meaning of it. It was soon explained by
the barrel of tho Irishman‘s rifle appearing beside

lllll.

[“VVhist till I blow the lmythen to the divill" he
wm’spere , as he cooked it.

Waring would not run the risk of reply: his words
might be heard by other cars than those for which
they were intended. He placed/ the muzzle of the
gun against his side, and held it there firmly, so that
it could not be discharged without killing him.

Pat Mulroony understood this mute appeal, and
relinquished his intention of shooting the savage.

All at once, the Shawanoe gave forth a. guttuml
“ Ushl" and approached the fugitives. Pat tugged
at the rifle, bu Varing would not loosen his grasp.
Just as he was about to do so, under the. belief that
the critical moment had arrived, the Indian stopped
and drew something from the bushes. Relic un-
speakable! it was a. canoe, and the whites still re-
mained undiscovered.

Picking the frail vessel bodily from the ground,
the Showtime carried it to the water’s edge, when,
depositing it in the water, he seated himself in it,
and, nddled away.

“' hat Indian had the narrowest escape of his
life I” remarked Waring, when he had gone.

“ Ye spoke the truth there i" added Put Mulroony,
“and be the same token. ye had the same no
’scape yerself. I was on the p’int of aiming at the
huythen several times through you, and letting day-
light through yo both."

Virginia. looked horror-struck at the words of the
Irishman, noticing which, he whispered to her—so
loud, however, that Waring also caught the words:

"It’s onlya joke, me leddy; I wouldn’t hit the
lpalpeen to save his neck." *

In the course of on hour or so, it began to grow
dark. and the fugitives impatiently awaited the
time when they could move from their hiding-

lace. With the exception of the Indian men-

ioned, the saw nothing of their enemies. althou h
they occas onnlly heard a. whoop or a. halloo in t e
woods from them.

The sky, which up to noon had been clear and pro-
pitious, had become Since then darkened and over-

cast, and gave every sign of accruing storm. Black, i

threatenin clouds were. swaying tumultuously
across the eavcns, and mm up in huge masses in
the tar-oft horizon, where ey towered like the
walls of some old, embattled castle, around whose
ramparts the serpentine lightning quiver-ed like
streams'of blood. Faint murmurings of thunder
were constantly borne upon the air and the roar-
ing of the wind in the forest sounded like the dis-
tant ocean.

joined Virginia.

“Keep up courage,”he whispered to her. “We
will soon be where we shall have fewer obstacles to
op ose us."

" I am not tired,” she replied. "Do not feel any .:
anxiety upon my account. ‘

The darkness had increased rapidly, and the
whites begun to take less care as they moved along.
(glide a strong wind came up the river, and now and
t on the flashes of lightning were vivid enough to
reveal the shore and stream to them, so that they v
were guided in a great measure b this means.

Waring was movin along, ho ding the hand of
Virginia in his own, w on he suddenly encountered
the Irishman, who had stopped walking. He was
about to demand the meaning of his acting thus, '
when he turned his head. and whispered:

“ Whistl I seen something then. ’

“ In what form did it appear?” .

I‘Look straight over me shoulder, and when the
lightning shows itself ag’in, tell me what ya seas."

Warin did as requested. The lightnin was in:
cessant, ut not sharp enough to reveal t 3 object
that had attracted the notice of his companion. All
at once, however, a bright flame blazed out. and he
saw, but a rod or two away, an Indian seated in a
canoe. The canoe lay close under the bank and the
savage was seated in the stem, with his back toward ‘
the whites, and, from his appearance, was evidently
waiting for some one. .

Waring felt sure that he was the Shewanoe that
had caused them so much alarm. and that. from his
presence in this quarter, it was prett . certain his
companions were not for distant. W ile debating
with himself upon the best course for him safely to
gloss him, he felt the Irishman moving away from

m. .
“What do you intend to do!" he askedms he an-
rested him.

“ Get that same canoe."

“ Get that canoe? What do you mean! How are
you going to do it?”

“ Let me alone for that. I’ll upset the haythen." ,
thf‘His friends may be closer at hand than you

settle this matter with him."

“ Well, go on, but be careful."

The great convenience and advent
would be to the whites, decided W ‘
Irishman make an effort to gain ssession of it.

Havin warned him of the anger he ran, be
trusted 0 had sense enough to use all caution pos- :.
sible in the case. Neve class, it was With some "
misgivin s that he saw him glide away, and disap-
pear in t 1e darkness. ,

The flash of lightning which had revealed the 3011‘

e the canoe
ng to let the .

 

tary Indian to the Irishman, had brought his up

once and situation so vividly to his sight, that ‘he
, could constnntly see him, and felt as much assur ‘
;. fining in movuig toward him as if it were broad day-

s - r
Ste b site he a reached literally feel! eve
lnchgf {he “gay, fog-pa sing‘lve'mlsstep wouldg prays
fetal. The snapping of a. la; a slip of his foot in
ie vigilant dlan would be on his

nrd. :
guCloser and closer approached the Irish on, until
he had gained the progr olnt. Then 5 mightem
ing himself up, he drew c his ponderous flat, and ‘
concentrati all his strength ggve him a blow that
sent him hee over head out in

the water, and t

ink. «‘
“Divil a bit doesIcare how close they be. I‘ll _ ‘

/

 

t

 

 

\,

 

 

,\

 

thewater. - v 

 

'98 Exploits ot‘ Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsmau.

 

' " t’s what I call a gentle hint fur yees to
l ave.”
A few moments later the art were in the boat
and gliding rapidly with the gurrgnt. '
after floating a few moments in silence, Waring

sai :

“You andHezekiah never knew each other until
a few days since, I believe.” ‘

:2 Ne; nor we don’t know each other yit.”

_ He was a Singular character, too~—odd and eccen-
tric; but as true and faithful as steel. He made a
terrible light before he gave 11 to those savages. It
sighsfis though I am party responsible for his
jigégillol" exclaimed the Irishman. “Look yonder

As he spoke, he pointed down-stream. The canoe
had Just rounded ahead in the river, and alar e
camp-fire was Visible upon the Kentucky side. t
was so large and v1 orous, that its light was thrown
clear across upon t e other bank, the surface of the
water listened like silver. Through this broad
band-p light, it was necessary of course, that the
In tives s, and run a SSCOIK risk of discovery.

‘ 6 kg tning had almost ceased, but a strong
wind was blowmg, and the huge flame of the camp-
fire could be seen surging to and fro, like the waves
of a tem est-tossed sea. Dark figures now and then
passed etween it and the river. and. their huge,
grotesque shadows quivered on the surface, like
monstrous phantoms.

Slowly and noiselessl , the canoe drifted into the
broad belt of light, an the fugitives almost held

\thg'lhl‘ breath. t We“

e eyes 0 ng and Pat Mulroon were
naturally fixed upon the camp-fire and its sui¥round-
lugs but, from some cause which she could never
exp 11, Virginia felt an a prehensiou, which
amounted to a certainty, that a was not right upon
the bank which was so near to them, and she kept

, he; ggze lillfiedtiln thalit (Erection.

n _ w is us 00 ing she discovered laiul
and distinctly, the form 0 a tall Indian, s’tgnding
,iupon\the very edge of the river, seemingly intent
upon watching the canoe. He did not move, or
make any demonstration toward its occu ants. and
remained perfectl motionless until heh faded out
of sight in the dar ness.

As the fugitives reached the protectin darkness
£6519, confident that they had not been iscovered,

‘armg drew a sigh of relief, and said:

We need have no fear now. That fire has never
been started by the Shawanoes with the intention of

v receivin any assmtance from it in reca turing us.
I think may safely say we are out of a danger.”

I feel so relieved," said Virginia. “It seems as
lInliiiaiiiltsufll’zered a hundred deaths since that
g . owsoon me we ex e
the Isettlem'is-iitithLutherl"’ y p Ct to reaCh
/ canno e ou recisely, but in three hours I
Eligigql‘d say, at the urthest. What do you think.

_“ Never having been in this region, I find it rather
$151;th at: tfigswgr your queséigrii, a; the minister
, o woman axe
m‘Elierwhalf,s bellthd ( . m ow Jonah felt
orgo ; on to me that before. ‘H '
cannot be far¥mt of the way in my less."0“ ever! I
“Is it_not sin ular Luther, that, i we are so close
touthe Village. t ese Indians also should be?”

.Not at all. I have no doubt that there are hun-
dreds within half a mile of it. On an ex osed fron-
tier lt is always thus. Without goo defenses
brave hearts, and trusty rifles such a lace would
not be safe from destruction for a singlegiour.”
hearWthhieslgltal” intefrruptecfl tiglllie irislanan. “If I didn't

in 0 one o e 8. en ‘
never tip another shillaiah l" y . a on Shore, I u
I heard it, tom—the snapping 01's. twig.” added

irg‘vrlnia. .
“ he lamp. dist—one or the dogs is tallying us."

 

"That is not probable. What could he ‘galn by
such a course?”

“L’arn the way to that sittlement of which yeol
were sp’aking."

“I should not wonder if Pat were right,” said
Virginia. “ I have heard evidence of his presence
several times.”

“ Let us listen. The wind may have made all the
sounds {on have heard.” _

For t 6 space of fifteen or twenty minutes the
whites maintained silence. but there was nothing
heard further, and they fell to conversing again.

The situation of our friends, although not Without
the grand comforter, be e. was still loomy and im-
pressive. On either mad, the ark, frowning
forests loomed up, and the wind signing through
them made wildly-mourni’ul music—now roaring like
a hurricane, and then dying away in a hollow, deso-
late Inoanin . Occasionally the sharp screani of
some wild animal was borne forward upon the night
wind, and once or twice the reports of rifles showed
that the Indian, the far wilder animal of the two,
was “ abroad upon the night."

The wind raised small waves upon the surface of
the river, and they rippled along tho shore, and
around the projecting roots of the trees that grew
u on the banks. Even their own voices sounded
differently upon this wild night. But they were
sustained b the prospect of speedy deliverance and
shelter, an were more hopeful than they had been
since their first memorable disaster.

In the course of half an hour the river made an-
other bend, and the wind now blew directly up-
stream. The onward motion of the canoe grew less
and less, and finally it stop ed altogether.

“This will never do,” sai Waring, when he had
satisfied himself how matters stood. “ It will be 'a
logg ,s‘vhile before we reach the settlement at this
ra e.

“ Let’s put in to shore, and scare up some kind of
paddle for each of us to go to work with”.

“I am afraid that we could not accomplish much,
Pat; the only course is for us to land, and make the
rest of the journey on foot. Do you feel able to
walk a mile or two. Virginia ?”

“Walk a mile or two?” shc repeated. “If neces-
sary, a dozen of them, when cheered by the hope
that animates usi”

P “a, noble giril Help me in with the canoe, then,
atl

Using their hands vigorously, as they had done
once or twice before, the boat graduallv approached
the shore, until it had run in under the imb of a tree,
which was seized by Pat, and held while the other
two disembarked. Thea kicking the canoe from be-
neath him, the Irishman also sprung to land and
stood among his friends. .

“Shall we ka e close to the wather, or off from it
alwa s?" be as ed.

“ e undergrowth seems to be the densest by the
river, and as I see no need of remaiiung_by it, we
will go further into the woods, where it Will be less
difficult to walk.

Accordingly the three moved further away, where
the wood was more open, and for some time they
encountered little obstruction in their journeying.
The Irishman, as usual. brought up the rear, now
and then giving vent to some original remark, and
occasions. ly indulging in snatches of song. _

Waring was about to speak to his com anion,
when he felt her grasp his arm with incredib e pow-
er, and startled nearly out of his senses, he turned
toward her:

“What’s the matter, Virginia?” he asked. I

“011!” she gasped in a tremor, “ I saw that Indian
just now.“

“ Where ?"

“Here, right beside me." .

“ Did you see him, Pat?” asked Waring, grasme
his rifle and peering round in the darkness.

“ No. but I heard the hav—"

j  "yr-wanwm— M a,

van».

.wv

 

 

;’ wvw Rpm-“W‘C-Egg’m ,

k {Hwy—v. ._

“vs-«WW, ...

3.

«Q \

 

Exploit of Hezekiah Smith, the Buokwoodsman.

29

 

‘_‘ There! there he is again 1" she interrupted,
pomtmg in front of them.

Waring caught a glimpse of a dark form and ere he
could precisely locate it, he saw Pat Mulroon bound
forward hke a ball, and the next instant t 6 two
wvre grappled together in a hand-to-hand struggle.

The impetuous onslaught of the Irishman was ir-
resistible, and he bore his opponent to the ground
and seated himself astride of iim. Whipping out his
knife, he fairly shrieked:

‘ Say yer rayers, nick, for ou’ve 0t onl a
second and agialf to sgy ’em in!”y g y

“ If you’ve no objection, I should like to know why
yo can’t give a little longer time?" asked the familiar,
whnung vorce of Hezekiah Smith.

CHAPTER XVI.
T i ffifcwtsliom I
_ nuns: was nom s 0. mg e voice. is was Hez -
kiah Smith himself, beyond a doubt. Stoopineg
down so as to obtain a glimpse of his features, the
Irishman peered into his face for a moment.

“ It‘s that long-legged chap as was killed, or else I
ain’t Pat Mulroonyi"

“Is it possible that that is you?” asked Waring
Bloc,ng his hand upon his shoulder, and feeling of

is face and arms.

“I’ve a strong suspicion now that I’m the indenti-
cal, and precisely the same personage that you took
so much pains to kiver up in that same gorge,“ re
plied Hezekiah.

“Let us strike a tire and sit down and have a
tialki". said Waring. “This is too good fortune, in-

eet . ’ '

Branches and twigs were soon collected , and a fire
started. Seating themselves by it, the reunited
friends gazed into each other‘s faces. To the sur-
prise ot' all, Hezekiah Smith was attired in the dress
of a Shawanoe Indian.

‘f What is the meaning of this?" asked Waring.
pomting at his costume.

“A stroke of my genius,” replied the New En.

glander; “considered as an idea original with my-
self, I think it reflects credit upon me."

'“ But let us hear the particulars of your esca ."

“ They don’t amount to much," said Heze ‘ah.
“The p’int is just here. You know I had an all-
flrcd row on that precipice. Drat me, if that wa’n’t
the greatest scratpe I ever got into in all my life.
dug. and kicke , and pulled, and tWISted, and
gouged, and bit, and rolled with that last anun, but
it wa’r't no use. When he went over, I had _to _go
over, too. Well, therek it was sublime, spinning
down through the dizzy air with that Shawanoe fast
to me! I had more ecstasy in them one or two
seconds, then I‘ve had in all the rest of my life.

“ As it happened, the Injin fell under me, and was
knocked into a jelly, though for that matter, I had
settled his hash for him before he went over. I’d
advise you to believe now that I was bruised slight-
ly, and for a few minutes I seen nothing but stars,
and heard nothing’but the queerest land of music in
no head. *

y‘ When I came to myself somebody was drawing
me along the ground. Thinklng as how it must be
one of the dratted imps, 1.311le kept my 9 es shot
and let him pull away._ Bunehy he let me rap, and
piled me over with dirt and stones. I heard him
mutter something, but I kept my eyes closed up all
the time; he never thought was playing ’possum.

“ Arter he’d been gone some time, it struck me all
at once that it had been you who had taken sich
pains with me. You’d better believe I opened my
eyes then, and crawled out of thatéilace m a hurry.
The way the stones and dirt ew, you‘d have
thoiiggbt a barrel of powder had been tetched ofl.

“ ut ou’d been gone too long fur me to find you,
though tried hard enough to do it. I follered you
?g€0d1\}'ays into the woods, t3nd had dto give it up at
as. eanedu ina. 9e.“ wasthmkmg' '
about a—" p “g .

 

“ That was you, then Pat and I saw, and he
wanted to shoot so bad. You had a narrow esca .“

“I s’pose it was me. I soon found the red-s us
was too thick in them parts, soI crept down by the
river, and waited fur night. Some 1: me after dark,
Iheerd one of the scamps screech, followed by the
crack of their rifles. I knowed you must be in some
scra e, so I hurried down the river. but couldn’t see
anyt ing of you. Walkin down the bank some
minutes arter, I thought I card somebody
on the river, so I kept going down the shore, an lis- .
tenin’ like.

“Opposite where that big fire was, I seen the
canoe, but there was three ersons in it. I couldn‘t
understand how that coul be, and was afraid to
show myself.”

“ I saw you, said Virginia, smiling, “but I told no
one of it.’ ’

“I kept along by you, howsumever. and at last
seen on land."

“ ou must have known us. then, surelfi."

“ Yes, I did; but tgust for a little f . I t ought I’d
scare you a bit, an , by thunder, I reckon it was me
that got the most , when Pat pounced upon me
out there.”

d “ But you have not told us about this Indian
ress.

“I forgot that. It struck me that, being there
was so many Injins about, it would he a good idea.
to put on one of their dresses. It might come handy,
you know. One of the dead red-skins was 'ust my
size, and I changed costumes with him, lea 5 him
of course, to put the clothes on for himself, as I did
wrth them I got. I believe they have kept me out
of danger several times since I lit them on. But
now about this fire burning here Ain’t there some
dan er of its being seen?”

“ took pains to screen it from observation, and I
have no tears," replied Waring. “I tell you what I
propose," he added. “The woods are so dark, and
as none of us know the way, it is more likely that
we shall be entirely lost if we keep on in this man-
ner. Suppose, therefore. we spend the night herei"

This proposal being agreed to by all, the prepara-
tions were made for carrying it out. A couch of
boughs and leaves was made near the fire for Vir-
glam, ufion which a blanket or two were spread, and
upon w ich. a few minutes later, the wearied and
exhausted girl was sound asleep. The others seated
themselves around the tire, to spend several hours
in chatting and conversation.

“A few hours ago,” said Waring, sddressin Pat
Mulroony, “you were on the po nt of exp rig
something in regard to yourself, when you we
interrupted by the discoverz of a. new danger, .
Perhaps, while we are seated ere, you’lfgive us the
reason that induced you to come into this wild.
country.“ ,

The Irishman smiled:

“It's little [have to tell, as the deaf and dumb
man said. It‘s thrue I niver have been out in these
parts before; but I’ve thraveled over considerable
of the wilderness in the last few years. You know
there be signs of another Injin war, and I’ve been
sint here as a. private agent of Mad Anthony, to Peru
what. is to be l’arned.”

“ That’s what I am !” exclaimed Hezekiah Smith.

Seeing that his hearers appeared incredulous,
Smith added:

“Such is the fact. I had a love adventure at
home, which sent me out here, and that’s why I'm
rather green. I was sent in these parts at my spe-
cial request." .

“ Begorra, but we goes toglther after this," said
Pat Mulroony.

The two grasped hands.

“It strikes me," said Hezekiah Smith, “that while
we‘ve l’arned considerable of these red-skins. it ain‘t.

uite enough to suit the general. I propose, there-

ore, we start out ag’in.”

Despite Waring‘s protestations, these two ocean,

    

 

80

Hezekiah Smith. the Bukwoodsman.

 

trlc individuals insisted u 11 de artin at once.
Although much bruised, ezeki wou d not con.
sent to go to the settlement until he could fully
recover, nor would he allow lrginia Lander to he
awakened, in order to bid him good-by. Assuring
him whom the left behind, that he should hear
from them ag n, the two worthies arose, and passed
out in the darkness together.

At the earliest sign of day, our hero and heroine
were again en route, and in the course of an hour,
came in sight of the settlement. Their destination
—the long wished and prayed for goal—was reached.
Painful and terrible had been their sufierixlgs on the
way, but they had been rewarded at last. Arm-in.
arm the two entered this village of the wilderness,
as hand-in-hand they entered upon the great jour.
ney of life, and went u the hill-side. and, flnull ,
down through the Lark alley into the eternal 1i 6
beyond.

m END.

 

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10F: IlIIIIdIHIIIH', Hurry, llm iiooihluck Detucilve'. By
(' mu m. mrld.

105 NigiIl-llll\"l. KIM. lily .Iiws.  Budget, Jr.

I _ I :l- _,.I 1;. 10¢ .lnvi. Iioy c'n .1‘1u.I ‘y i‘llluI'uxwl L. Wheeler.

 ’fi'l'lz‘l:f,l:"llfilfi.:_m “xv {\llld. Huh 10$ kooky Munnlnlu hit. [Ky IXC. Hnrhnugh.

s? Th.- Wlilm n mud; mum“. .Imsnllu. 10911-0- “VIII-11v“ """d- "-Vl‘rm'k “mm”-

; Hm “ind-me, Jr 1 ‘\l\\'ur(i l. WIN-Mar. “0 The "'"ll‘i lfimcrl “W'fil‘oillll xiv-FBEWVT-

. I»I '  . I . -\'inun‘ not v m' x. y l. .. Healer.

3,; Ned "lad. the Ho) lupyer. ll) Cdpt. J. In C. “Ide By (.IIII'II Mflyna Rah/II

       

       

 
 
    

 

    

Adams, “3 N- r- ‘1 (‘L N: I ll %ll- i v
, . . . ‘ i v 5- . Ia. ml Imuvr. 8301100011103.
 glidfiufi llm;-III:1|IIL II;'I|}I“0“‘;; (3);": 1 1 1g l’inoy l’nul. llm‘hluuntuin Boy. ny 1'. c. iinl'lmluzh.
. x - . lln Deadwood Ill: Double. lly E. L. Whealur.

       

4i Dendw ui Illck’fl Engicu. _
42 The North King. ll v Ull (‘omm .
415 Old Hickory. lly linr
41 The \\'|Illc indiun.
a ihluhhnml “ill. llv l
46 The thdmv Filip. l L I
? The "ml Iiroihul-homi. lly W. J. ilallnlilul).

 

111i Juluez Collin Imu-r. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
117 Fmon Frnnk. of (Inlormlu. lly Bufl'nio Bill.
11% \\' iil \Vihliirc, “In 'i'horoughbred. By Chm. Morris.

119 Blonde mu: nr. Deadwood Dick’l Home Duo. \
lly Edward 1.. “hauler.

     
   

 

 

4

4g "mule. Judi-i "15y  CI. limIinI|\|g.'Ii;. I J 120 Gopher Gid, the Buy'l‘rnpper. By T. C. Hurbaugh.
49 "I!" “me i ' 3' ' """p' [7' "‘“W' r' 121 llurrv Al'lnntroluz. the (7» inin nftlm Club 1;
20 >322!” “finkfl'fi‘: J',§;i“l‘,‘l‘,‘i'l‘i‘l’,"§_ wmmI 1:.-...v.d‘yrad,;.e iix-m_\‘ng,(.inck linrmwuy.) y
{:2 ’ ‘iu order Robin "mid. liy llunulo Hill. 129 The Hunted Hunter. My WWI-rd S. Ellis.

5‘ Gold Riiic, tho Shur Ilhm-lrr. 11y i L

IIIII\I/I\I'IlIlI.:uler. 123 Haul] sum, llm Hay Romngan ily E. L. Wheeler. ‘

  
  

ii I Zi I‘s (‘nhlm ly (‘Ill'l- J- H ‘
23': :h-‘inWEH‘P "N‘k- "3' HH (7mm 123i .imigu Lynn-h, Jr. By I. L. lintbuugh.
bl; “Il‘l Tm“ “y‘mwr'h “y w' 'l I “"‘m’”“‘ 125 The Lnnd l'il'utcn. 13y l‘npt. )iuynu Reid. ’
5’? Deadwooduiiick on IlIh-II'III.I “N '5- 1r. \‘l'Iu-ulcr. “unliv Jum- ‘2.

. . . . rr v l ‘mu -. ' <
 i‘ltty‘lbu‘; '~ (3x1. I’m-I'm.» inzruiluln. 126 Blue "lure-- “y l'mnk Dmmml. Ready Juno 9.
“0 Al“. (Van, iiu', Crmw Ily Alhan \K'. Allyn-n. 131 Tony Fox, ill. Farr“; or, Bun Bowing}... n,
“I ‘Iurlluruy ('lmII‘th-. I, lilluunl lI;\\'(l.I.d-1~-r.\I Edit-rd [4. wheeler. kmuly Jun. 16.

v _ . ,. m Soy )-le.i\'o. y in L Ti . I .. .,. _

“l ‘ rr I'm, [Hunt rl‘l.;|‘f‘,‘_,_ m A. WI Mka “ 1223 “1110i. BonfiWlll Vi lldinu a Rawr. By C. Morrll.
“’01,, By Edward L. Wind-1dr, Roddy Juno 2.4.
Joe, lln: Terror 0:11.. l'ruirir. ByCHM. 129 J-Zn-uIll-IKlt,o‘lm “03‘ Damn- By 0“ (bums.
us. l<emy.lnm1; .
'00" W “"“’“'““‘"k' “y T" ‘3' "'"' um «InmII 'l‘rIlgIm-r. was”... ily T.c.nmbnugh.
{:«my . u y .

 

   
  
 

     
   

 

 

inuugil. I I
67 Rollo, \iu- 1m Hangar. .ymlldmm-q.

   

 

 

 

 

 

(is Idvl. lin- (.‘irl Minor. By Edward 1.. \Vlmulcr. Issued livery “'educhduy.

4:9 06 live I’lvk- I‘l"‘h'"‘l"! “W”- . . [KL-mile”! Pocket Library infer nnluh nllNewu-
I74]! :I‘In-s, PlotIIflclIlIlI; 1‘]leAlfi’iIIfil‘":"#:RIeII“) ontwmw- denluru, lIh-o mm: per copy, or sent by mail on celpt of nix
. ' or) u . ' U ' “ ‘ celllil'll‘fl.

" ‘ . “hr Sen. lly Alhvn W. Allan. I _

é: ginning“ Ifllliflhuliny 51...”. My1-:.1..\\'1..-.d.r. “EM’LL ‘k’ “Lu”, P“b“"h°"!

74 Pluuyllllo Pele. - iiy Clml‘lus Mnrrln. 98 “'Illlmu Street, New York.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 Deer-hunter, the Boy Scout of tho Grunt North Woods.
By 0” Cnomss.

1B Buil'nlo Bill, from Boyhood to Manhood.
IisI Incl-“ham.

3 Klt Oar-son, King liffluidas. liv Allmrt w. Aiken.

4 Gordon Lillie, the lifly'lutL-rpruter 1;] [hr l’awin-us. By ‘

153' Col. l'rnn-

Major. H. 13. Studrlurd.

5 Brqu Adams, Old Griz
6 Deadwood Dick us nl . By Eduard L. \\‘h
7 Wild Bill. the Vista] Prime. My cm. l’. Inurullnm.
8 The Prairie Ranch. lly Joseph E. lilultzvr. Jr.
9 Roving Joe: Thu History of a "‘ Burder lluy.” liy A.
. O".
10 Texns luck, the Mustang King. liy Col. 1'. lrurralilini.
ll Charley Skylark. A Stril' - M'Sclmul—dnv Scrapers and
College Ca as. My Majurl .n. Studdnrd:

13 Murlposu ursh. liy Jlmvpl‘ E. Badgur, Jr.

13 Roving “en. liv Juhn J. Mnrshnll.

14 8 ring Steel, King of ll)" Bush. By J. E. lilldgur, Jr.

15 ide-Awukr: (is-urge. lly Edward Wills".

1“ The Boy “'izurd.

Buy 1mm. lly 1..ng .
ler.

lii- liurrv Ringguld.

1'? Peter l’e penguins, thuGrL-cnhurn l‘rnni Ilutliarn. ‘B
3 y

Noah Nu .

18 Adrift on the Prairie. and A'anL-“r "untch
0n the Bulfqu Range. By 011 (Monica.

19 The Fortune llunter; or, Roving Jun as illlller,
Cuwboy, Trapper and Hunter. By A. ll. Past.

90 Trn per Tum, the Wand imp. By T. I‘. llm'bnugh.

21 Ye 0W llnlr, tllv Boy Cll'wfof the l‘uwnecs. By Col.

Prentiss Ingraham.
The Snow Trnil. lly T. C. Harbnngli.
Old Glr‘lzzly Adumn, the Bear Tamar. By Dr, Fm“.
0W8 .

24 Woods und Writers. By Capt. Frerlvrick Whltraker.

25 A Rolling Stone: llwiduntl in the Cnreer (In Srn and
Lnnd afCol. Prentiss lnuruhnm. By win. n. r:_\~.....r.

26 Red River Rovers. Jiy C. Dunning Clank.

2': Pluzn and l’lnln - or. Wild Advenuim of“ illukskin
Sum." (Mai. Sn Hall.) Hy Col. 1’. lnzrnhrun.

$8 The Bwor l’r (-e. The Romantic Life of Col. Mon-
stery. lly Ca t. hrsderick Whitukur.

29 Snow-Shoe mn. By T. C. Harhmnrh.

80 Paul do Lucy, the French Beast Charmer. By C.
Dunning Clark.

31 Round the Camp Fire. By Joseph E. lllldgrr, Jr.

89 “'hite Beuver, this Indian Medicine Chiul‘. By Col.
Prentiss Ingrahnm.

83 The Boy Crusuder. By Cu it. Fred. Wliiitahor.

34 The Chnse of the Grunt‘V Ito Stag, and,(‘nnlp
and Canoe. lly C. Dunning Clark.

85 (“(1 Tur Knuckle llnd liil Boy Chums. By R. Stnrlmvk.

86 The Danhin Drngnon; nr. Ths Story ufllsn. George
A. Custer. y Capt. Fred. \Nllillakar.

3‘? Night-Hawk Gear e. By Col. l’rentiss lngrahnm.

83 The Boy Exiles oi‘ lheriu. lly ’l'. C. Harhaugh.

89 The Young Bear Hunters. By Mn is Rwlwing.

40 fimart Him. the Lad with is [anal flu-lid. li‘ Ed. Willett.

41 The Settler’s Son. liy Edward 5. E11 .

43 Wait For uson’s Cruise. liy C. Dnnnim.r Clark.

48 Rifle and «waiver. lly Capt. Fred. \i‘liinaknr.

44 The Lost Boy Whniors. llv T. (I. Harhnuuh.

45 Bronco Billy, the Saddh- Prince. By ('01. lngrahaln.

46 Dick, the Etowuwny. My Charles Morris.

47 The Colorudn Boyn. liy Josuph E. liflllL’ur, Jr.

48 The Pumpus Iluntrrs. lh;T. C. llarlinugh.

49 The Adventurous Life of hebrusku Churlle.
By Col. Prentiss lnurnhmn.

50 Jack, flurry unrl Tom, the Three Champion Brothers.
By Capt. Fred. Whitiukur.

51 The Youn Land-liubbor. By C. D. Clark.

5’} The Boy 1 met-lives. Ha- ’I‘. C. Harhnngli.

53 llonent Hnrrv: or. The ‘ountry lluy Adrift in tho
Citv. ny Churles Morris.

54 Cnlifornin Jae. By Cul. Prentiss Ingruham.

55 Tip Tran-Mel. tlm Floater. liy Edward \‘l'illett.

56 The Snow Hunters. By llnrry da Furrusl.

5'? llurry Samar-r9, the Sullor Boy Magician. 15y  W.

Pearce.
53 The Adventurous Life of Cu tuin .lnck, the
Border liuv. liy (34d. l‘rentiss Inura mm.
‘ tlm Mnlu liny ufthu Minus. liy C. Murris.
60 The YoI ’l‘ruil Hunters. My '1‘. C. llnrlimmli.
81 'l‘hhe Tiler
P

22
33

Hunters: or. The Colorado lioyu in Ele-
nnt Land. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

 

62 Doctor Carver, the “Evil Spirit" of tho Plniug.
(Tul. l’I'vIItlss lngralnun.

68 “I: -k Ilursu liill. liy Rug” Starhurk.

64 Yr n r llh-k ’I'nlllut. My Alhurt \\'. Allin".

‘ ll ‘ l’ilot. Isy Cul. murals.» lngruhuln.
I l liurer. Hy Charles lllurris,

6? 'l'vxlls 1 llnrlle, u... liuy Hunger. In «ml. Ingrnlmln.

68' Llitlt- IHIIt yr, ’i‘hu Young Fur liunlrrs. 15y Captain

" Bruin " Adams.

6'.) The 1' uull ' Nllllllst. l5 ‘ Cllnrllm Morris.

70 Pull ' the .‘nwlmv. ly njur H. ii. Stoddard.

71 [in] llobsurtnnd llisBeur. llyCaptain“Bruin"
. x anis. .

3‘2. 'l‘lu- lor- lCloplIunl. By Capt. Frederick \l'hittnhcr.

‘ )

T4

By

The Young )1 unso-lluntcrs. liy W. H. Manning.
The Buy (‘nrnl- Fislwrs. liy lbrur‘r Starbuck,
lh-vulu-r Billy. My Cal. l’rentisx lngralnnn.
'l'he i‘umlor Killers. liy'l‘. C. llarhangh.
Lml Llunlu-els, tho Young Tiger Fighter. By Roger

Slurhuv'k.
l" Flntlmut, Fred. 1})" Edward “‘illi'lt. Randy Oct. 10.
9 Boone, thv liunirl’. liv Captain F. Whittuker.
80 Kentucky "0“. “V RN“? Shlrbllck-
Kl 'l‘lu Klt Cursun Club. By T. .Harhanuh.
82 Little In . u... lioy Guide. By liar'rv Minggolll.
81$ Pony 110 r, llll‘ Rm‘klcss Rider of thu Rockies. By Cul.
l'l‘llllll‘98 inurnlmm.
84 Cunt uin li‘ly-by-ngllt. By Josuih E. Badger, Jr.
85 (‘nptuln Rnl rh, il a Young Explorer. liyU, 1). Clark,
86 I‘llllr- Dun {m- liy Murris Redwing.
8'? The Ms nun-rh- Hunters. liv Maj. H. Granville.
814 The Trumps. liy J. M. Hnmnun.
89 ’l.ollgslmn- Llje. By C. D. Clark.
90 Roving Rifle, Custer’s Liltlu Scout. By T. C. Hu-

haunh.
91 Orr-gnu Josh, lhe Wizard Rifle. By Roger Starbuck.
92 llurrlt-uur Kit. By A. F. lio t.
93 Jllnnpinl: Juke, the Colorado Circus Boy. By Bryant
Sninnridgu. 1
9-1 Sum Spence. the Broadhom linv. liy Ed. “'illett.
95 Musuow to fillrgrlu; or, A stkus Buy to the Ruscuo.

liy ('lntrlus Mnrrls.
96 Fighting- I‘rell. By T. C. IIurhauLvh.
9’? Cruise 01‘ the Flynn'uy. By C. Dunning Clark.
9K The lioy \ izlluntcn. ly Maj. H. M. Sluddard.
99 The \Vhitc Thu-rs. By Cum. ('hsrles Huwnrdu
lilo-Tho Know-Shut- ’i‘rnil. Hy St. George Ralhhone.
101 Murllmu. the Ottawa Girl. dwnrd  Ellis.
102 The Flyuwuy Allout. ll, Dunnlng Clark.
“Hi I’ut Mullnlu-y's Al1\'l:lltllr( . lin. L. Edwnrda.
I01 'l‘htl ll 3' Prospector. By Roger Starhurk.
105 .‘llllt e, “H: Wood Witt-h. By Edwin Emerson
106 The Iluy l‘rulsi-rs. By Edwnrd Willi-it. -
107 The Ilorllor Rovers. By .1. Milton Humnun.
108 Alnskn. llli‘ Wolf-(linear Bv Ca rt. Howard Lincnln.
09 (‘hrlslinn Jhn,ihe\\‘hiio Mnu’s riund. ByE.S. Ellis.
10 l’luoky .100. the llny Avenger. My J. M. llnmnan.
11 The Border Gunmnkcr. lly Jana-n L. liownll.
12 Lel‘t-Ilnnlled Pete, the Dunlile»Kuifu. ily Joseph
E. imam, .lr.
13 The River Illilt-s. By (.‘npt. J. F. C. Adams.
14 Alone on the Plains. By Edward Willuu.
1I5 hllvrr "urn, and ill! Kill! Pin-death. Hy R. Stnrhurk.
116 Ex )Iults oi’ Ilezukinh Smith, the llukwuudsnmn.
liv inn-rmn Rudmnn.
117 The Young Mustunrzers. By C. D. Clark.
up...” July to.
118 Old ’l‘rups: or, tho Boy Rivals. By Barry Ringgold.
iii-Jan July 17.
119 (‘ou vr Shot By T. (7. Harbangh.
Randy July 24.
120 A Hot Tran. By Charles Morris. Randy .ruiyzn.
121 lluutvr I'm-ll Ben. By Roger Sturhuck.
Ready August 7

122 The. Esuulmnux’ Queen.
Rudy August H.

tho Whitu Crow.

liy G. Waldo Bruwnu.

licudle’n Boy's Library in fur nulu by all Nuwulculenl,
live centa lml’ copy, or sent by mnil on receipt vi six «ml: each.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers.
9% Wiliium Street, New York.