nd Glut: Mn“ Miner. Jun

Copyrighted,1837, by linbu nu: Arum, Enmn-d m the Pan Office a: New ark, N. )2, a: Seco

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‘ "9"" No. 98 WILLLm 81.. NEW YORK. F "'3 00"“-

 

 

KENT HAD ms EYE UPON HIM AND THE INSTANT HE STIRRED. SPRWNG LIKE A PANTHER TOWARD Hm.

 

2 ' Kent. the Ranger.

.4.

 

i Kent, the Ranger;
THE FUGITIVESigf the BORDER.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS,
* or “ rim snrrnnn’s son,” “MARIANA,
THE OTTAWA GIRL,” me, me.

(Jr-MEIER 1.

Zn]; AND Hrs MASTER.

AT the southern part of Ohio, where the river
of that name swerves from its southwestern
course, and makes a sweeping bend toward the

r' northwest, many years ago stood a large and
imposing dwelling. Its character, so diit'erent
and superior to others found here and there
along the Ohio, showed that its owner must
have been a. man both of superior taste and
abundant means. It had been built by Sir
William Leland, who had emigrated from Eu-

, rope with his young wife, and erected a home
"in the western wilderness. Here they lived a
goodly number of days; and when, at last, they
took their departure within a year of each
other, they left behind them a son and daughter
to cherish and inherit their home.

George Leland, at the time of whioh we speak,
was but twenty, while his sister Rosalind was
three years his junior. Yet both, with the as-
sistance of a faithful negro servant, managed to
live quite comfortably. The soil was exceeding—
ly rich, and, with a little pains, yielded abund-
antly every thing that could he wished, while
the river and wood were unfailing resources.
Three years had elapsed since the elder Lr‘land's
death, and during that time, although living in
a count swarming with Indians, nothing had
occurrer to alarm the fears of our friends, or
even to give them the slightest suspicion that
dun er threatened them.

hen Sir William settler] in this section, he
followed the example of the great founder of
Pennsylvania, and purchased every foot of his
land from those who claimed it; and, in addi-
tion to the liberal remuneration which each rc-
CBived, they wore given some charmng present
by their pale-face brother. This secured their
friendship; and, although many miles interven-
ed between the whites and their nearest kindred,
yet they had nothing; to fear from the savages
who surrounded them. Thus matters stood
when George and Rosalind were left orphans,
some years before the opening of our story.

It wasa pleasant «lay in early summer that
Georfr'e and his sister were seated in front of
thei house. The sun was just setting, and they
had remained thus a long time. Zeb, the negro,
was absent for the time, and they were thus un-
disturbed.

“ Do you really think,” pursued the sister, “it
can be true that the Indians have perpetrated
the outrages which have been reporteer

“ I shpuld be glad to think differently, could
,I have reason for doing so; but these reports:
certainly have foundation; and what is more
alarming. the suspicion that we are not safe,
whichovas awakened some time ago, is now con-
firmed. For two or three days I have detected

 

suspicious appmrunces, and Zeb informed me
that he discm'ered a couple of savages lurking-
around the edge of the forest. I fear there is.
strong reason to apprehend danger. ”

" But, brother, will not the kindness which
our parents showed them while living be a.
guaranty of our protection?” .

“It may, to some extent; but you must re-
member thut there are hundreds of Indians who
have never seen or heard of them, who would
not hesitate to kill or take us prisoners at the
first opportunity.”

“ Can it be possible?”

“It is not only possible but true. You re-
member Roland Leslie, who was here last sum»
mer? Yesterday I saw him up the river, and;
he gave me the information that I have repeat—
ed. At first I deferred mentioning it to you,,
for the reasmi that I did not Wish to alarm you
until it could not be avoided."

“ Why'TIfiI he not come here?” asked the sis.

ter.

“ He said that he should shortly visit us. He
had heard rumors of another massacre some
miles up the river, and wished to satisfy himself
in regard to it before calling here. Leslie, al-
though young, is an experienced hunter and
backwoollsinan, and I have not much fear for
his personal safety. He assured me that. should
he find the Indians above ravaging the country
as fearfully as reported, he would immediately
return to us.”

“ I hope so,” earnestly replied Rosalind.

“ Still,” continued George, “ what can we do,
even then? He intends to bring a hunter back
with him, and that will make only three of us
against perhaps a thousand savages.”

V “ But have we not the house to protect us?”

“ And have they not the forest? Can they not.
lurk around until we die of hunger, or until
they fire the building? There are a hundred
contingencies that will bur an escape. while I
confess no prospect of getting safely away pre-
sents itself." ,

“ We have arms and ammunition,” said Rosa-
lind. “ Of course Leslie and his friend are good
marksmen. and why can we not do enough to
defer and intimidate the savages? Finding us
well prepared, they Will doubtless retreat and
not disturb us again. 1 hope the trouble will
soon be over.” ‘ _

“ I hope so, too; but it is he in? a. inst hope.
This war will be a long an b y one, and
when it is over the country will present a. differ-
ent appearance. Many lives must he lost ere it
adope, and perhaps ours are among that num-

r.

“Perhaps so, brother; but do not be so do—
pressed. Let us hope and pray for the best. It,
is not such a. sad thing to die, and the country
which has given us birth has certainly” a strongr
claim upon us. "

“ Noble girl!” exhluimed George. “it is so, and
we have no cause for murmuring.”

At this moment Zeb appeared. He was a;
short. dum y, thick-set negro, with a most lux-
uriant hen. of wool, a portion of which hung
around his head in small, close braids, resem-
Mine: bits of decayed rope. Hiseyes were lame
and protruding, and his face glistened like a
mirror. He was a. genuine African. Some'oi

 

Kent. the Ranger. 3

 

their qualities in him were carried tothe ex-
treme. Instead of being a coward, as is often
the case with his nation, he seemed never to
know when there really was danger. He always
was reckless and careless, and seemed to escape
by accident.

“ Heighl Massa Geor e, what’s up?" he ex-
claimed, observing the so emn appearance of the
two before him.

“ Nothing but what is known to you Zeb. We
were just speaking of the danger which you are
aware is threatening us. Have you seen any-
thin lately to excite suspicion?”

“ othin7 worth speakin’ of,” replied he, seating
himself in front of George and Rosalind.

“ What was it, Zeb?” asked the latter.

“When I’s out ’tcndin’ to things. I t’ought as
how I’d sit down and rest, and ’cordin’ly I
squats on a big stone. Purtv soon de stone be-

‘n to move, and come to look, ’twas a. big
n in.
‘ ‘ Heigh !’ says I, ‘ what you doin’ here?

“ ‘Ugh!’ be run .

“‘Yes, I’ll “ugh!” 'ou,’ says I, ‘if I cotches
you here ag’in.’ Wit (lat I pitches him two.
free rods off, and tells him to make tracks fur
home."

“Heavens! if you would only tell the truth,
Zeb. Did you really see an Indian, though?”

“ ’Deed I did, and he run when he see’d me in
’arnist.”

“ And you saw others yesterday, did you?” re-
marked Rosalind.

“ Two or free, down toward de woods. I spied
’em crawlin‘ and smellin‘ down dar, and axes
dem dar business. Dey said as how dey’s lookin’
for a. jack-knife dat dey lost dar last summer. I
told ’em (lat dey oughter be ’shamed demselves
to be smellin’ round (lat wa ; and to provide
against dar doin’s in future, give dem each a
gOod kick and sent dem away.”

“ Do not exaggerate your story so much,” said
Resalind. “ Give the truth and nothing else."

“ Qu’ar, folks won’t believe all dis pusson ob—
serves,” said he. with an ofl’cnded air.

“Tell the truth and they will in all cases; but
should you deceive once, you will always be
sus , ted afterward."

‘ Dat’s it,” commenced the negro, spreading
out his broad hand like an orator to illustrate
the point. “ If I tells de truf dey’re sure to t’ink
I’s lyin’, and what‘s do use?”

“Zeb,” commenced George, not regarding the
last remark, “ you, as well as we, are aware that
we are encompassed by peril. You have seen
' that the Indians are constantly prowling around,
and evidently for no good purpose. What
would you advise us to do under the circum-
stancssl”

“Give ‘ema good floggin’ and set ’em to Work,”
he replied.

“ Come, come, Zeb, we want no jesting,” in-
terrupted Rosalind. V

“Dar ’tis ag’in. Who war jestin‘? Dat’s
what I t’ink is do best. Give ’em a good lickin’,
and set ‘cm to work clearin’ 01? de wood till dar
spunk is gone.”

“Fudge!” said George, impatiently, turning
his back toward Zeb, whose head ducked down
with a chuckle.

_ “ Rosalind,” said George, “the best plan is

. , \

 

certainly to wait until Leslie returns, which will
be either tomorrow or the next day. We will
then determine upon what course to pursue.
Perhaps we shall be undisturbed until that time.
If not, it cannot be helped.“

“Wished dis pusson warn’t so hungry,” re—
riiarked Zeb, picking up a stick and Whittling
i .

Rosalind smiled as slie‘arose and remarked:

“It is getting late. George, and it perhaps is
best to have supper.”

He made no answer and turned toward the
negro. ,
‘ Zeb,” said he, “in all probability we shall be
obliged to leave this place in a few days for a
safer location. Of course you will acuompuny
us, and I wish it to be understood that you are
to lay aside this levity and carelessness. Re-
member that you are in danger, as murh as our—
selves. Your scalp may be the first taken.”

“What, dis yere wool of mine? Yahl yflhl
yah! Lord bless you, dcv’d have a handful l”

“ How would you relish being roasted at the
stake?” asked George, hoping to terrify him.

“Yah! yahl Dole be some sizzlin’, I guess.”

“ You will think soborly about the matter,
perhaps sooner than you suspect.”

“ Yas,” said Zeb, andhis face straightened out
in an instant, while he slowly and thoughtfqu
continued whittling.

“Zeb,” continued George, leaning toward him
and speaking in an undertone, “ I think we shall
be attacked in two days at the latest.”

“ Jest keep de whip in good order, and I’ll put
it onto ’em and teach ’em manners.”

“ I fear you will learn wisdom only by expe—
rience, even if. you do then,” returned George.
“ It would be asgood thing for you, should you
meet with something that would impress you
with a sense of your peril. I can only wonder at
your stupidity.”

“ Gorra mightyl do you s’pose dere’s anything
that‘d make me afeard of dem Injins'i Why, -
bless you, fort of ’em wouldn’t dare to frow a
stone at me. ’ve licked free. four, dozen of 'em
and (icy all respect me awful.”

“ I suppose so.” rejoined young Leland, with
mock seriousness.

“Last summer,” pursued Zeb, “ when yon’s
down do river fishiu’, dere’s thirteen of ’em come
up one day to borrer the wood—box. I s’posc dvy
wanted to keep dar dogs and pappooses in it, and
I ’cluded as how dey warn’t gwme to get it. So
I told ’em 1’s verry sorry dat I couldn’t ‘comrro-
date ’em. but de fact war we wanted to put do
wood in it ourselves. When I said dat. one of
rle niggers begin to got sassy. I just informed
’em dat dey’d better make demselvcs scarce
mighty quick, if dey didn’t want dis pnsson in
dar wool. Dey didn’t mind what was said, how-
sumever and purty soon I cotched ’em runnin’
off wid e wood-box. Dat raised my dander,
and I grabbed de box and frowed it right over
dar heads and cotchvd ’em fast. Den I put a bi
stone on it, and kept ’em dere free weeks, an
afore [ let ’em out I made 7em promise tobehave
’emselves. Now I considers dat we’d better
serve ’em some sich trick. Tie two, free. hun-
dred to de fence, and leave ’em dere for a few
months.” ' r

“ You are welcometotry it,” returned George,

v V '

 

v or clearing nearest the house.

» lines of a dar

4 Kent, the Ranger.

 

rather disgusted at the negro’s propensity for
big story telling. He arose and passed within,
where the am e table was laid. Yet he could
not eat the p ain, sweet food which Rosalind’s
Own hands had prepared. The dreadful Sense of
danger was too real 8. guest for any rest or peace
of mind.

 

CHAPTER II.
THE NIGHT OF TERROR.

FEW words were interchanged during the eve-
ning. George and Rosalind had enough to oc—
cupy their minds, and Zeb, finding them taci-
turn, relapsed into a. sullen silence.

At an early hour each retired. Rosalind now
felt more than George that unaccountable pre-
sentiment which sometimes comes over one in
cases of danger. During the last few hours it
had increased until it nearly resolved itself into

' a certainty.

The view from the front of the house was
clear and unobstructed to the river, a quarter
of a mile distant. Along this lay the cultivated
clearing, while the forest, stretching miles away,
approached to within a few yards of the rear of
the house. '

Rosalind’s room overlooked this wilderness.
Instead of retiring, she seated herself by the
window to gaze out upon it. There was a faint
moon, and the tree-tops for a considerable dis-
tance could be seen swaying in the gentle
night wind. The silence was so profound that
it seemed to nnke itself felt, and, in that vast
solitude few i uleed could remain Without being
impressed with the solemn grandeur of nature
around. ‘

Hour after hour were away; still Rosalind re-
mained at the window. As there was no inclin-
ation to sleep, she determined to remain in her
positionnntil morning. She knew that it must

9 far beyond midnlght, and at the thought
there sprung up a faint hope within her breast.
But she was startled by the dismal hoot of an
owl. She sprung up. With a beating heart, lis-
tening intently and painfully; but no other
sound was heard. Trying to smile at her trepi-
dation, she again seated herself and listened;
in a moment tint cry was repeated, new in an
opposite direction from which the first note was
heard.

Rosalind wmdered that the simple circum-
stance should s > affect her; but try as much as
she might she could not shake it off. Again,
for a few minutes, she remained trembling with
an unrlefinabh fear, when there came another

hoot, followed instantly by another, in an oppo-

site direction. She began now to entertain a
fearful suspici'm.

Her first impulse was to awaken her brother,
but, after a moment’s thought, she concluded to
wait' a short ti inc. A few more sounds were
heard,’when they entirely ceased. During this
time, Rosalind. although suffering an intense
fear, had been gazinfir vacantly toward the point
As her eyes rest-
ed upon the s 0t. she caught the shadowy out;
bod moving stealthin and noise-
lessl along upon t 6 ground.

ithout waiting a moment, she dartedto

' George’s room. He had not slept, and in an in-

 

' stunt wasby her side.

 

“ Call Zeb ” she exclaimed. “We are sur-
rounded by fndians.” -
Leland disappeared, and in a moment came

back with the negro.

“ Gorra mighty!" said the latter, in a hurried,
husk whisper, “where am de cussed niggers?
Hei , Miss Rose?”

“ eep quiet,” she replied, “or you will be
heard.”

“ Dat’s just what I wants to be, and I calki—
kites I’ll be felt too, if dar are any of ’em
’bout.”

“ Stay here a moment,” said George, “ whileI
look out. Rosalind, what did you see?”

“A body approaching the house from the_
woods. Be careful and do not expose yourself,
George.”

He made no answer and entered her room.
followed by herself and the negro, who remained
at a safe distance, while he cautiously ap-
proached the window. He had no more than
reached it, when Zeb asked:

“ See noifin’?”

This question was repeated perhaps a dozen
times without an answer, When the patience of
Zeb becoming exhausted, he shuffled to the '
window and pressed his head forward, exclaim-
1n :

“ Gorra. mighty, where am dey?”

“ Hist! there is one now—yes, two of them!”

“ Whar—whar?”

“ Keep your mouth shut," interrupted the
young man, his vexation causing him to speak
ouder than he intended.

“ Heigh! dat’s him! Look out!”

And before young Leland suspected his inten— *‘ -

tions or could prevent it, Zeb had taken aim
and fired. This was so sudden and unexpected
thaw for a moment. nothing was heard but the
dull echo rolling over the forest and up the
river. Then arose a piercing, agonized yell,
that told how effectual was the shot of the
negro. Rosalind’s face blanched with terror as
she heard the fearful chorus of enraged voices,
imd thought of the fearful scene that must fol-
ow.

“Are the doors secured?” she asked, laying
her hand 11 on George’s shoulder.

“Yes, I arricadcd them all,” he answered.
“ If they do not fire the building, we may be
able to keep thr-m off until mornin . Idon’t
know but what Zeb’s shot was the bes , after all
—God save us i” ‘ ‘

This last exclamation was caused by a bullet
whizzin past, within an inch of his face. For
awhile ’ieland was uncertain of the proper
course to pursue. Should he expose his person
at the window, he was almost certain to be
struck; yet this or some other one equally ex-
posed, was the only place where he coul ex-
change shots, and the savages must be kept in

heck.

Zeb had reloaded his gun. and peering around
the edge of the windmv, caught a glimpse of an
Indian. As reckless of danger as usual, he
raised his rifle and discharged it. He wasa
good marksman, and the shot was as effective as
the other.

“ Gorra mighty !” he exclaimed, “ I can dodge
dar lead. Didn’t I pick (lat darky oflE‘ awful
nice? Just Wait till load ag’in.” Chucklmg

 

 

Rent, the Ranger. 5

 

over his achievements, he proceeded to prime
his rifle. George Leland withdrew to the win-
dow of another room, from which he succeeded

in slayin a save e, and b being careful and
cautious, e was a le to m e his few shots tell
with effect.

When Zeb shot the first savage, the rod-skins
sprung to their feet; and commenced yelling and
leaping, feeling that those within were already
at their mercy; but the succeeding shots con-
vinced them of their mistake and retreating to
cover, th 3y were more careful in exposing them-
selves. Several stole around to the front of the
house, but George had anticipated them, and
their being no means of concealing their appear
ance, they were easily kept ata distance. Rosa-
lind followed and assisted him as far as lay in
her power, while Zeb was left alone in his de-

light and glory.
“ Be carefu ,” said Mland; “ don’t come 'too
near. Just have the wdcr and wedding ready

and hand it to me w eu I need it.”

“Iwill,” she replied, in a calm, unexcited
voice, as she reached him his rod.

“Just see what Zeb is at, while I watch my
chance.”

She disappeared, and in a moment returned.

“He seems frantic with delight, and is yet
unharmed.”

“God preserve him,” said George, “for his
assistance is needed.”

“Be careful,” said Rosalind, as George ap-
pl‘oached the window.

“ I shall—whew! that’s a close rub I” he mut-
terod, as a bullet pierced his cap. “There,
gou’re past harm,” he added, as be discharged

lS gun.

Thus the contest was kept up for over an hour.
But few shots were interchanged on either side,
each part becoming more careful in their
action. oung Leland remained at his window,
and kept a close watch 11 on his field; but no
human being was seen. eb laughed, ducked
his head, and made numerous threats toward
his enemies, but seemed to attract no notice
from them.

Now and then Rosalind spoke a word to her
brother, but the suspense which the silence of
their enemies had put them in, sealed their lips,
and for a long while the silence was unbroken
by either. They were startled at length by the
report of Zeb’s rifle, and the next minute he ap-
peared among them, exclaiming:

“Gorra mightyi I shot out my ramrod. I
seen a good chance. and blazed away ’fore I
thought to take it out. It went through six of
’em, and stuck into a tree and hung ’em fast.
Heighl it’s fun to see ’em.”

“ Here, take mine, and for God’s sake, cease
your jestingl” said Ireland, handing his rod to

1m.
“Wish I could string some more up,” added
Zeb, as he rammed home his charge. “ Yer
oughter seen it, Miss Rosa. It went right
trough de fu’st feller’s eye, and den frou h de
odor one’s foot, den fro de oder's gizzar , and
I half wafiogrough de tree. Gorra, how dey wrig-
gled! ked just like a lot of mackerel hung
up todry. Heigh!” ’
At this point Leland discharged his gun, and
said, Without changing his position:

 

“ The are t in to a roach thi-liouse. Go
Zeb an’yattenclly to §our  Be very sharp!” 7

“ ’Yes, 1’s clar, stringing ’em up,” he rejoined,
as he turned away.

“Hark!” exclaimed Rosalind, when he had
gone. “What noise is that?”

Leland listened awhile and his heart died.
within him as he answered:

“Merciful Heaven! the house is on fire! All
hope is now gone!” ,

“ Shall we give ourselves up?” hurriedly asked
Rosalind.

“No; come with me.”

“Hurry up, massa, dey’s gwine to roast us.
De grease begins to siss in my face a’ready,”
said Zeb, as he joined them. '

The fugitives retreated to the lower story, "
and Leland led the way to a door which opened
upon the kitchen, at the end of the house. His
hope was that from this they might have a
chance of escaping to the wood, but a. short dis-
tance off, ere t ey were discovered.

Cautioust opening the door, hgfisaw with
anxious, hopeful joy, that no Indians were visi-

e.

“ Now, Rosalind,” he whispered, “be quick.
Make for the nearest trees, and if you succeed
in reaching them, pass to the river-hank and
wait for me. Move softly and rapidly.”

Rosalind stepped quickly out. The yells of
the infuriated savages deafened her; but, al-
though fearfully near she saw none, and start—
ed rapidly forward. 7Leland watched each step
with an agony of fear and anxiety which can-
not be described. The trees were within twenty
firds, and half the distance was passed, when

land knew that her flight was discovered.
A number of savages darted forward, but a
shot from him stop
most. Taking a vantage of the confusion
which this had occasioned, Rosalind sprung
away and succeeded in reaching the cover; but
here, u on the very threshold of escape, she was
reache and captured.

“ Gorra mighty!” shouted Zeb, as he saw her
seized and borne away. “Et‘ I don’t cowhide
ebery nigger of ’em for dat trick.”

And clinching his hands he stalked boldly for-
ward and demanded:

“ Whar’s dat lad y? Ef you doesn’t want to’git
into trouble, I callcilate you’d better bring her
back in double-quick time.”

Several savages s rung toward him. and Zeb
prepared himself or the struggle. His hu
fist felled the first and the second; but ere e
could do further damage he found himself
thrown down and bound.

“Well, dar, if dat ain’t de meanest trick et, .
servin’ a decent prisoner dis way. i’ll cow "(is
ebery one oh you. Oh, dear, I wish I had de
whip!” he muttered, writhing and rolling in
be] less rage upon the ground.

cland had seen this occurrence and taken
advantage .of it. It had served to divert the ac—
tion of the savages, and the attention of all be-
ing occupied with their two prisoners, he man-
aged :with considerable difficulty to reach the
wood without being discovered.

Here, at a. safe distance, he watched the pro-
gress of things. The building was now one

mass of flame, which lit up the sky with a. w ’

5’

 

d the course of the fore- '

 

 

“,4,‘ ;, v

u. is;

’ out into the stream.

.A .— aw:-

 

6 Kent, the Ranger.

 

llll’l'l, unearthly glare. The border of the forest
was visible and the trunks and limbs of the
trees appeared as if scorched and reddened by
the consuming heat. The savages resembled
demons dancing and yelling around the ruin
which they had caused. It was with difficulty
that Leland restrained himself from firing upon
them. With a sad heart he saw the house which
had sheltered him from infancy fall inward with
a crash. The splinters and ashes of fire were
hurled in the air and fell at his feet, and the
thick volume of smoke reached him.

Yet he thought more of the captives which
were in the hands of their merciless enemies.
Their safety demanded his attention. Thought—
fully and despondingly he turned upon his heel
gilt]. disappeared in the shadows of the great

ores .

 

CHAPTER III.

KENT AND LESLIE.

WHEN Roland Leslie reached his destination
some miles up the Ohio. his fears and suspicions
were confii‘fiiod. There had been a ma sacre a
week previous of a number of settlers, and the
Indians were scouring the country for more
Victims.

This information was given by Kent White-
man, the person for Whom he was searching.
This personage was a strange character, s ime
forty years of age. who led a wandering hun-
ter’s life, and was known by every white man
fora great distance along the Ohio. land
Leslie had made his acquaintance when but 8.
more lad, and they often spent weeks together
hunting and roamng through the great wilder—
ness, which was the home of both. He cherished
m1 impla'nble hatred to everv red-man, and
they in turn often sought his life, for they had
no enemy as dangerous as he.

“ Yes, sir, them varmints,” said he, as he
leaned upon his long rifle and gazed at Leslie,
“are playinrr particular devil in these parts,
and I calkela e it‘s a game that two can play
at. ’

“ Jump in the boat, Kent,” said Leslie. “and
ride down with me; I promised Ge >rge Leland
{shat ,i f be needed assistance I would bring it to

no.

“He needs it, that‘s a p’inted fact, and as
soon as it can conveniently reach him too.”

“ Well. let us be off.” «

Leslie dipped his cars in the water and pulled
It was the morning after
the burning of the Lelands’ home, which of
course was unknown to them. For a few mo—
ments the boat glided rapidly down the stream,
when Whiteinan spoke:

“ Where’d you ut up last night, Leslie?”

“ About ten mi es down the river. I ran in
under the bank and had an undisturbed night‘s
rest.

 Didn’t hear nothin’ of the red-skins?”

“ Wzil, it’s a wonder: they’re as thick as flies

- in August, and I calkelate I’ll have rich times
’with ’em.”

“I can not understand how it is. Kent. that
aim cherish such a deadly hatred for these In-
ans.

 

“I have good reason,” returned the hunter’
com rcssing his lips.

" ow long is it that you have felt thus?”

“ Ever Since Us a boy. EVer since that time.”

“What time, Kent?’ ‘

“I have never told you, I believe, Why the
sight of a red-skin throws me into such a fit,
have I?” '

“ No; I should certainly be glad to hear."

“ Wal, it doesn’t take long to tell. Yet how
few persons know it except myself. It is nigh
thirty years ago,” commenced Kent, “that I
lived about a dozen miles above the lace that
we left this morning. There I was orn and
lived with my old father and mother until I was
ten or eleven years old.

“ One dark. stormy night we war attacked by
them red devils, and that father and mother
were butchered before my eyes. During the
confusion of the attack, I escaped to the Woods
and secreted myself until it was over. It was a
hard matter to lie there. scorched by the flames
of your own home, and see your parents, while
begging for mercy), tomahawkcd and slain be—
fore your eyes. at in such a position I was
placed, and remained until the savages, satisy
fled with their bloody work, took their depar-
ture.

“When the rain, which fell in torrents, had
extinguished the smoking ruins. I crawled from
my hiding-place. I felt around until I came
upon the cold bodies of my father and mother
lyin’ side by side, and then kneelin’ over them. I
took a fearful oath—an oath to which I have de—
voted my life. I swm‘e that as long as life was
given me, it should be used for revengin1 the
slaughter of my parents. That night these sa -
ages contracted a debt of which they litt e
dreamed. Before they left the place, 1 had
marked each of the dozen, and I neVer forgot
them. For ten years I follored and tracked
them, and at the enal of that time I had sent the
last one to his final account. Yet, that did not
satisfy me. I swore eternal enmity against the
whole people, and as I said, it shall be carried
out. Voile Kent is alive, he is _the mortal
enemy of every red-skin.”

The hunter looked up in the face of Leslie, ‘

and his gleaming" eves and gnashing teeth told
his earnestness. His manner and recital had
impressed the latter, and he forhore speaking to
him for some time.

“I should think.” observed Luslie, after a.
short silence, "that you had nearly paid that
debt. Kent.”

“ It is a debt which will be balanced." re—
joined the hunter, “ when I am unable to make
any more payments.”

“ Well. I shouldn’t, want K011 for an enemy.”
added Leslie, glancinqover is shoulder at the
stream in front of him.

Both banks of the river at this point, and, in
fact, for many mill-s, wivro lined with overhang-
int,r trees and hushns. which might afford shelter
to any enemy. Kent sat in the stern and
glanced suspiciously at each bank. as the boat
was impelled swiftly yet silenth forward, and
there was not even a falling leaf that escaped
his kmn eve.

‘.‘ Strikes me,” said Leslie. leaning on his oars,
“that We are in rather a dangerous vicinity.

 

 

 

3

_,. _
r’.
is, 

__ __ :3 4.”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

./r

Kent, the Ranger. ' 

 

Those thick bushes along the shore, over there,
might easily contain a few red gentlemen.”

‘ Don’t be alarmed ” returned the hunter,
“ I’ll keepa good watc . They’ve got to make
some movement before they can harm us, and
I‘ll be sure to see them. The river’s wide, too,
and there ain’t so much to fear, after all.”

Leslie again dipped his cars, and the boat shot
forward in silence. Nothing but the suppressed
dip of the slender ashen blades, or the dull sigh-
ing of the wind through the treetops, broke the
silence of the great solitude. Suddenly, as
Leslie bent forward and gazed into the hunter’s
face, he saw him start and gaze anxiously at the
right shore, some distance ahead.

“ What’s the matter?” asked Leslie.

“Just wait a minute,” returned the hunter,
rising and fining in the same direction. “ Stop
the boat. ack water!” he added, in a hurried
‘tone.

Leslie did as he was hidden, and again spoke:

“ What is it, Kent?”

“ Do you see them bushes hangin’ a little
'further out in the stream than the others?"

“ Yes; what of them?”

“ Watch them a minute. There—look quick 1”
(said Kent.

“ I can see a fluttering among the branches
as if a bird had flown from it,” answer

lie.

“ Wal, them birds is Indians, that’s all,” re-
marked the hunter, dropping composedly back
into the boat. “ Go aheadl”

“ They will fire into us, no doubt. Had I not
better run in to the other shore?”

“ No; there ma be a host of ’cm there. Keep
in the middle of t e stream, and we’ll give ’em
the slip yet.” .

It must he confessed that Leslie experienced

' rather strange sensations as he neared the local-

it. which had excited their suspicion, especially
w en he knew that he was exposed to any shot

'that they might feel imlined to give. A shud-

rder ran through his frame. when, directly oppo-
:site the spot, he distinctly heard a groan of

ony.

Kent made a motion for him to cease rowing.
Bending their heads down and listening, they
again heard that now loud, agonizing expres-
sion of mortal ain.

As soon as slie was certain that the sound
proceeded from some being in distress, he headed
the boat toward the shore.

“ Stop!” commanded Kent; “you should have
more sense than that.”

“ But will you not assist a arson in distress?”
flasks-(l he, gazing reproacth y into his face.

“ Who’s in distress?”

“ Oh. gorra mighty. I’s been dyin’," now
rcame from the shore.

“Hallo, there! what’s wantin’?” culled White-

:man. ‘

“Help, hel , ’fore dis Indian gentleman—
’l‘ore, I dies rom de wounds dab dey’s given
me.

“I’ve heard that voice before,” remarked
Kent to Leslie. in an undertone.

“ So have I,” replied the latter. “Why, it is
George Leland’s negro: he wouldn’t decoy us
into danger. Let us go in.”

, “ Wait until I speak further with him.”

 

(Then, to the person upon shore): “ What might
be your name?”

“ Zeb Langdon. Isn’t dat old Kent?”

“Yes; how came you in this scrape, Zeb?”

“ Gorra mighty! I didn’t come into it. Dem
red dogs—dese ere nice fellas—brought me
here ’bout two months ago, and den dey fired
at me fur two or free days, and den dey hung
me up and left me to starve to death. Boo-
hoo—ool”

“But,” said Leslie, “ you were at home yes-
tcrda when I came up the river.”

“ es; dcy burned down de house last night,
and cooked us all and eat us up. 1’s come to
live ag’in, and crawled down here to get you
fellers to take me home; but, Lord bless you,
don’t come ashore—blast y J11, quit a-hittin’ me
over de head,” added the negro, evidently to
some one near him. .

Leslie and W'hiteman exchanged significant

lances, and silently worked the boat further
'rom the land. *

“ Who is that you spoke to?” asked the for-
mer, when they were at a safe distance.

“Dis yere blasted limb reached down and
pulled my wool,” replied the negro, with per-
fect nonchalance.

“ Where is Gcor e Leland?” asked Leslie.

“Dunno: slip} away from dese yere nice
tellers what’s pulled all de wool out of me head,
and is tellin’ me a lot 0’ yarns to tell you.
Gorra mighty! can‘t you let a feller ’lone, when
he’s arnin’ as ood as he can?”

“ here is 155 Leland?”

“ How does I know? A lot of ’em run off Wid
her last night."

“ Oh God! what I expected.” said Leslie,
dropping his voice. and gazing with an agoniz-
ing look at Whiteman. The latter, regardless
of his emotion, continued in conversation with

e .

“Are you hurt any?”

“ Considerable.”

“Now, Zeb, fell the truth. Did they capture
George Leland?”

“ Bless you, no. He got away during de
trouble. ”

“ Did they get Miss Leland?"

“ ’Decd they did.”

“ Is she with you i" ,

“No. It took forty of ’em to watch me and V
de rest.”

Here the negro’s words were cut short with a
jerk, and he gave vent to a loud groan.

“ Gorra. miglfiy l” he ejaculated in fury.
“Come ashore, r. \Vhiteman and Mr. Leslie.
Come quick, and let dose yer” fellers got you.
Dey wants yer too.”

‘ Are there any of the imps with you?” asked
Kent. more for amusement than anything else. ‘

“ What shall I tell him?” the negro asked in a
husky whisper, loud enough to be plainly heard ,
by the two in the boat.

“ Dey say dar ain’t any of ’em. Talk your-
self, if dat doesn’t suit you,” he added, in great
wrath.

“Three cheers for you,” shouted Whiteman.
“Are there any of ’em upon the other side?”

“ Dese fellers say dey am all dar. Gorra1
don’t kill me.” ‘

“ Good; you’re the best nigger ’long “the ’Hio.

,r

.i
i
E?-
E
9

 

have istanced their pursuers.

’em comin’.’

8 Kent, the hanger.

.,. “whoa-.3.- .w. .‘J

 

ihguesg we’ll go over to the other side and visit
em.

80 saying, Kent seized the oars and pulled
for the opposite shore. He had not taken
more than a couple of strokes when a dozen
rifles cracked simultaneous] from the bushes,
and as many bullets struck e boat and glanced
over the water.

“ Drop dowu,” he whispered to Leslie. In-
stead of doing the same himself, he bent the
more v' crously to his cars. A few minutes
sufliced carry them so far down that little
danger was to be ap rehended from the Indians,
who uttered their 10 dest shouts and discharged
their rifles, as they passed beyond their reach.

“That’s too good a chance to be lost,” mut-
tered the ran er, bringing his rifle to his shoul-
der. Leslie ollowed the direction of his aim,
and saw a daring savage standing boldly out to
View, and makinfigesticulations toward them.
The next instant ent’s rifle uttered its sharp
report, and the Indian with a yell, sprung sev-
eral feet in the air, and fell to the ground.

“That was a good shot,” remarked Leslie,
gazing at the fallen body.

“ Yes, and it’s done just what I wanted it to,”
rgplied Kent, heading the boat toward the
s ore.

“ They are going to pursue us, are they not?”
asked Leslie. ,

“ Yes, and we'll have fun,” added the ranger,
astthe boat touched the shore, and he sprung
ou .

“Come alon , and make up yer mind for a
long run,” he, glancing furtively toward
the savages.

Leslie sprung after him, and they darted
away into the forest.

When Whiteman had fired his fatal shot the
Indians were so infuriated, that, setting up
the demoniac yells, they plunged down the
banks of the stream, determined to revenge
their fallen companion.

This was what Kent desired. He exulted as
he saw that he was being gratified. “ If there
isn’t fun pretty shortly it won’t be my fault,”
said he, as he plunged onward into the forest.

In a short tlme he pursuers gained the op-
finite shore and followed with renewed ardor

to the wilderness. Kent and Leslie, however
had gained a ood start. Both being hand
runners, they ad not much to fear. ad
nothin unusual occurred, they would easily
But Leslie,
following Kent in a leap across a rocky gorge,
struck in his comrades footsteps in the ear h
upon its edge. The earth had become loosened
and started by the shock, and ere Leslie could
recover his footing, he fell some fifteen or
twenty feet to the bottom. The fall bruised
him so much that he was unable to rise, or in
fact hardly to stir.
h.“Hurti’ asked the ranger, gazing over at

1111.
“Yes,” groaned Leslie. “1 can’t get upl
Don’t wait for me, for it’s no use. Go on and
save yourself I”

“I hate to leave you, but it’s got to be done.
Lay down there; crawl in under that rock.
Perhaps they won’t see you. Quick, for I hear

With these words the hunter turned and dis-
appeared, and succeeded in getting beyond the
gorge without being seen b his pursuers; but
this delay gave them time gain a great deal

tramp could be distinctly heard.

His words had roused Leslie to a sense of his
peril. By struggling and laboring for a few
minutes he succeeded in disengaglng himself
and managed to crawl beneat a projecting
ridge of rock. This effectually concealed him
from sight; and had his pursuers no suspicion
of his fall, he yet stood a chance of escaping.

In a few moments he heard them overhead,
and the pain of his wounds was forgotten in the
anxiety which he now felt for his safety. He
knew that they had hesitated, but Whether it.
was on account of the leap they were required
to make, or on account of any suspicion that.
they might entertain, he could not divine.

ably once been swept by a torrent, but now a.
tiny stream on] warbled through it. The mur-I
mur of this, y Leslie’s side, prevented his;
understanding the words of those above. The.
hum of their voices could be heard but not their
Words.

Presently, however be distinguished a well-
known voice, evidently in expostulation with
somagne. h d , I

rra mi ty! oes yer spects can 'um
dat? It's badg ’nongh to make me git drogvneg
(iin dat river without broken my neck down
arl
Leslie could not help wondering Why Zeb was

with the rest. But as he had not heard his voice
before, he concluded that the negro must have
been brought by several Indians who remained
behind for that purpose. This conclusion was
confirmed by the words which he heard the next
minute.

“ Whar’s do use 09 jumpin’?
fellers ’11 soon be back, coz dey ain’t agwine to
cotch dat man nohow. He can run like a streak
0' sunshine, and likes as not dey’ll get shot.
You’d better go on and coax 'em to come back
While I stay here and waits fur ye.”

In answer to this, Leslie heard some angry
muttering and mumbling, but could distinguish:
no words. In a moment, however, Zeb’s voice:
was audible. '

“ Bless yer, you’re de all-flredest fools I eber~
see’d. How does you s’ cts I's gwine to light.
on t’oder side. Ef one 0 you’ll take me on your'
back, I won’t mind lettin you try to carry me:
over; but I tells you I ain’t agwine to try it. So'
you can shut up yer rat-tra s."

Hardly a second elapsed before he agaim
spoke:

“ Hold on dar; you kickin’ all my brains out I!
I’ll try it!”

The next moment Leslie heard a dull thump,.
and Zeb came rolling down direct] beside him..

“ 1’s killed! Ebery bone .is bro en. I can‘t;
live anoder second.” ’

“Zebl Zeb!” whispered Leslie, in a hurried.
whisper.

The negro suddenly ceased his groaning and
exclamation, and rolling his head over toward

 

him, asked, in a whisper:

 

upon him, and when he started their hurried V

The place in which he had fallen had prob~ I

brought along nor how’he managed to keep pace »

Dem yere '

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

':tici

 

Kent. the Ranger. 9

 

“ Who's dat?”

“ It’s 1, Zeb. Get up quick, for God’s sake,
before they come down, or I’m lost!”

The negro'clamberml to his feet without diffi—
culty, and disappeared, shouting to those
above:

“ I isn‘t hurt. It Wnr de rock dot was broke
by my head striking it. How do piecesflewedl”

CHAPTER IV.
THE CAPTIVES.

WHEN Rosalind Leland felt herself seized by
the savage, she tainted in the arms of her
swarthy captor, and so remained for a long
space of time. When she recovered, she found
that she was a secure prisoner in the hands of
her enemies. She was grieved to see that Zeb
was a companion in captivity. She felt that,
could she alone suffer, she would willingly hear
it. Although acquainted with many ndians,
she was unable to recognize any of those around.
This, of course was a gratification. It showed
that the kindness of her parents and herself had
been lost 11 n them. Although the recipients
of her kin ness might not strive to prevent
violence being done her, yet they refused to per-

te in it themselves.

. e whole Indian force numbered about
‘thirty. As soon as they had done all in their
power, and were convinced that there were no
more captives to be secured, the took up the
line of march. In the course of t eir 'ourney,
Rosalind found that she was near enoug to ho
a conversation with Zeb, and after a few min-
utes’ silence, she ventured:

“ How do you feel, Zeb?”

“ Bless you, missus, if dese Diggers doesn‘t get
the all-firedest walloping when gets de chance,
day may feel lad.”

‘ Yes, but am afraid that you will not get
the chance very soon.”

“ Oh, day daresn’t kill me; for it day did,
I’d hang every one ob dem.”

Despite Rosalind’s painful situation, she could
not but smile at the earnestness of tone in which
Zeb delivered himself of this. She resumed:

“ Are you bound, Zeb?”

“Not inuch; only a dozen ropes tied around
£133 lag, and as many round de rest ob me

y.
“ Oh, Zeb don’t tell such stories.”
“Fact, issus land. I counted ’em when
433’s puttin’ ’em on, and dey out like forty,
- ”

“'Forty-two what?” asked a gruflvoice by

V'Zeb’s side, in very good English.

“ Gorra mighty, who’s dat 3’”

No answer was given.

“Who do debhil was dat?” asked Zeb, speak-
inp.r to Rosalind.

She made no answer and appeared to be lost
in a reverie; Zeb repeated his uestion but. failed
to elicit any reply. Mutter ng something to
himself, be permitted her silence to remain un-
disturbed.

There were two horses in the party, and upon
one of these Rosalind had been placed. The
other was bestrode by a savage, who appeared
to be the leader of the band. Zeb’s hands were

pinioned behind his back; and he was compelled ,

 

to walk behind the horse of Rosalind, with a
guard that kept a close eye upon his movements.

Silently yet rapidly the body moved along
through the forest of impenetrable darkness,
where a perfect knowledge was required in or
der to make the least progress. ' d’s
horse was a powerful creature and carried
her with comparative comfort. l‘l’ow and then
the cold leaves brushed her face, or her
grazed some tree, et the animal carried her
safely and unharm . Several times the thought
of escape flashed upon her. It seemed easy to
turn her horse’s head and gallop be end the
reach of her‘enemies. But one of t em was
mounted, and she believed she could elude him.
She could ride down those immediately around
her, and what was there to prevent her making
good her escape?

And yet, after a few more minutes of thought,
she abandoned all hopes of liberty for the pres-
ent. Her brother was free, and would leave no
means untried until she was again restored to
him; and there was another one, who, she knew
in her heart, would exert himself to the utmost
to save her. This thought caused her heart to
beat faster and faster. There was a slighttre— ,
mor in her voice as she spoke:

“ Zeb, come a little nearer to me.”

He made a. movement, but was unable to ap-
proach much nearer.

t “ Are you listening?“ she asked, in a subdued
one.

“ Yes, missus; mouth, ears and eyes is open." ‘

“Then,” said she, bending toward him and
lowering her voice still more, “I wish to ask
you, Zeb, whether you would do me a favor?”

“Lord bleSS you, missus, you knows I’d die a
hundred times for you.”

“I believe you would," returned Rosalind,
touched by his tone and words; “but it is no
hardshi that I ask of you.”

“We , out with it quick, fur dese tellers don’t
like to see yer horse’s side rubbin’ all do wool 01!
oh 111 head.”

“ ou arwuainted with Roland Leslie,
Zeb?” asked ind, bending lower and k-
ing in a whisper which she scarcely hear her~
se .

“Yes,” answered Zeb, breathin hurriedly.

“Well, should you see him, to him of my
situation; and—and—tell him not to run into
dan er for my sake.”

“ will,” rejoined Zeb, fervently.

Here a savage, 'udging that matters hadfgone
far enough, jerke the negro rudely back.

“ You needn’t be so spiteful,” retorted Zeb;
“ she’s told me all she’s agwine to."

Rosalind had done so; nothing further passed
between them. y

Toward morning they reached the banks of a 
stream where the savages divided into two par-
ties. The one which retained the n started
down the Ohio, while th0se who held, Rosalind
gpntinued. their journey in a southerly dime-i

101]. J

The course of the former has . f
given, and also a part of their doings. 9 lat-
ter, which numbered tw‘enty, experienced noth:
ing worthy of record for‘a considerable time.
They moved forward rapidly as they had some
tears of pursuit. This 'was their reason {or 1.1:;

 

 

10 1 Kent, the Ranger.

 

taining Rosalind with them. They were cun-
nin enou h to know that what efforts might be
m e won (1 be for her sake, while probably the
negro would be left to himSPlf.

heir progress south continued until Rosalind
knew that she was many miles in Kentucky.
They had kept along the banks of a river during
the whole time, which she also knew to be the
Big Sandy. From this she judged that her cap—
tors were a tribe, or at least a part of one, which
belon ed many miles distant from where her
home ad been.

Throughout; all her trials, Rosalind relied upon
Providence with a firm, unshaken faith. Al-
though hope dawned but faintly upon her, she
murmured not. Her fears were great for others
besides herself. She was young, and her youth-
ful blood coursed throu h her veinsz bearing
with it the leasures and cpes of life Just com-
menced. I was hard to die, hard to give up
the hopes which had only begun to (lawn in her
bosom; yet, if it was His will, she felt that she
could go without a murmur. “Thy will be
done,” was the prayer which but herself and
Heaven heard.

 

CHAPTER V.
THE MEETING ON THE RIVER.

FOR some minutes after Zeb’s disappearance,
Leslie remained without movin , scarcely
breathing for fear there might still some In-
dians overhead; but as minute after minute
were by, and no sound above warned him that
his enemies were in the vicinity, he managed to
creep from his hiding-place and seat himself
upon a rock near by.

Now that he was safe for the present, he began
to examine his wounds. There being no strong
emotion to occupy his mind the pain a ain came
upon him and he feared that he might danger-
ously hurt; but, upon examination, he was grati-
fled to see that he was only bruised in two or
three places. In falling, he had first struckupon
his feet; his side, from the force of the concus-
sion, came rather violently in contact with the
jagged, projecting rocks. This gave a fewse-
ver-a flesh-cuts, which, for the time being, were
more mini‘ul 'mvl distressing than would have
been a wound of a more serious character.

Still, he found that he was unable towalk
without eat labor and pain, and concluded to
remain n his present position until morning.
He crawled back into the hiding-place, and dis
fiosed of himself for the night. Little sleep,

owever, was gained, and the night seemed the
longest that he had ever spent.
hen morning dawned he emerged from his
hard resting-place, and, with great difficulty,
made his way to the top. T en, shaping his
course toward the river, he reached it in the
ocurse of an hour or so. Here, to his great joy,
he found the boat that he and Kent had left. t
was pulled high and dry upon the bank, yet he
succeed in getting it in the water, and, with a
1i ht heart, pushed out from the shore.

t was so much easier to gropel the boat than
to walk, that he had no ifliculty in making
good headway. He had determined upon no
course to pursue, but continued moving forward
with a sort of instinct, hardly caring in what
direction he went. He was moving toward the

 

spot where once the house of the Lelands stood;
smug impulse seemed drawing him thither-
war .

The truth was, Roland Leslie was thinkin of
Rosalind and her situation. Although be ad
spoken to her but comparatively a few times, yet
those occasions had awakened a feeling in his
breast which he found could not be subdued; his
love was growing day by day. He knew not
whether she was aware of his passion, but his
fluttering heart told him, at least, that she had
not frowned upon him.

Young love rests upon the slightest founda-
tion; thus Leslie was encouraged and made
hopeful by the remembrance of the friendly
meetin which he had with Rosalind. Then, as
he awo e from this pleasant reverie into which
he had fallen,the the knowledge that she was now
a captive union the Indians, the thought mad-
dened him. e dip his oars deep in the
water, and moved sw1ftly along.

It occurred to him that per aps it would be
best to keep a watch of the shores ahead to pre-
vent run‘ning carelessly into danger. There
might be Indians concealed or lurking in the vi-
cinity and he would be easily drawn into a de‘
co;f should he be careless and thou htless.

e turned around and scanned t e shore more
closely and searchingly. Seeing nothing suspi-
cious,he was about to resume rowmg a ain, whcn
from an overhanging cluster of bus es came
the sharp crack of a. rifle, and a bullet split one
of the oars, a few inches below his hand. Seiz»
ing his rifle. he turned toward the point from

which the shot had come, but could see no per--

son. The thin wreath of smoke curling slow]
up from the bushes showed the point from whic
it had been given; but whoever the person might
be, he kept himself well concealed. In a moment
another shot was given, which glanced over the
water a few feet from the stern.

Leslie began to think that he was in rather a
close situation, and clutching his rifle nervously,
endeavored to ascertain the int from which
the shot had come, determin to return one at.
all hazards He did not dare to pass over to the
opposite side, for he had a suspicion that they
were intended for that purpose. He believed
that his person had not been aimed at but the balls
had been intended to pass closely enough to
alarm him and cause him to seek safet by pull—
ing for the other shore, where, probe 1y, a fee
was waiting. While he sat undetermined what
course to pursue, a form stepped out in full view
upon the bank and accosted him:

“Fri htened any?" ’

“ We 1, I should think I ought to be. Why, is
that you, George?” ‘

i‘ I believe so.
aboard.”

“ What reason had you for firing upon me?"
asked Leslie, approaching him.

“Well, not any. I saw you coming down—
stream, und an idea seized me to learn if you
were easily frightened."

“I felt rather nervous when that shot came,”
returned Leslie, pointing at the hole in his
oar.

“ It was a close rub; but, of course,,I took
good care not to make it too close.”

“What is the news? What reason have you

Come in and take me

 

 

, 4

 

 

 

1
,,
l:
l

 

 

4

 

 

 

.fl 

Kent. the

Ranger. 1 1 ‘

 

{loi- being here?” asked Leslie, interrupting
1m.
“ News enough,” returned Leland, gloomily.

“ Step in the boat and let me hear it.”

As they passed down-stream, Leland narrated
his story, and when he had finished, remarked:

“ Roland, I have sought you for advice and
assistance, and I trust both will be given me.”

“ Gladlyl Do you think, George, that I could
rest as long as your sister is in the hands of
those savages?”

“ Pardon me," returned Leland “if I at all
doubted. This '~ affliction weighs heavily upon
me.

“I suspected this state of thin ,” continued
Leslie, “and it is the reason that I urried down—
stream. Yet the uncertainty of seeing you or
any friend, deterred me from making haste to
your place.”

Here Leslie gave the circumstances of his en-
countering Zeb and his subsequent misfortune,
or, as he termed it, his fortune of falling in the
gorge.

“Then Kent is gonez is he?” asked George,
when he had finished. ‘ That is too bad, for we
need his assistance greatl n”

“In fact, I do not un erstand what we shall
be able to do without him,” added Leslie.

“ Nor I; and here we are as he] less as if we
were already in the hands of the ndians, so far
as regards any assistance that we can can give
Rosalind," continued Leland.

“ Oh, don’t despair so soon. I trust that Kent
will soon turn up, and we shall then have a good
chance to recover her.”

“ Where do you suppose that Kent can be?”

“ I can only guess. ’

“ What reason have you then for thinking we
shall meet him?”

“ This reason. He saw me fall. and was
obliged to leave me for a time, as the pursuers
were close at hand. I am certain that, as soon
as he eluded and escaped them, he would return
to the place for me."

“ And find you gone and give you up.”

“ No; he would search the place, and seeing my
trail would follow it. I left a pretty plain one,
and he will meet with no difficulty."

“ But suppose the ranger is captured him—
self 1”

“ There is no supposition in the case,” rejoined
Leslie with an air of assurance.

“Well, admittin what you say,” continued
Leland, “did you cave a trail after etting in
the boat, that will be easy for him to ollow?"

“ Easy enough. He knows what course I
would take, and, consequently, he knows What
one to pursue."

“ But, even then, can he overtake you?"

“I have not come very rapidly, and I think
that he can. I believe that at this moment he is
on his way."

“ \Vell, Roland, we have probably speculated
enough upon our chances of meeting him. In
the mean time, what do you propose that we do
with ourselves?"

“As to that, I am hardly decided. There is
great danger in our remaining on the river. and
yet I see no means which will be so apt to bring
us in communication with Kent.”

“This gliding down the tho in broad day-

 

light, when we know the woods on both sides
are full of our enemies, is rather dangerous busi-
ness, although it may possesss ome advantages
for us.”

“I leave the matter with you,” said Leslie.
“The stream is very broad for a considerable
distance, and both of us ought to understand
enough of wood-craft to prevent running into
dan er.

“ e ought to understand enough,” said
Leland. significantly, "but the fact is, we do
not. There are so many centrivances these
cunning rascals devise for a white man’s de-
struction, that one needs to have a schoolin‘r of
years in their ways to understand them. ow-
ever,” he added, in a whisper, “ I understand
that contrivance yonder.”

“ What is that?” inquired his companion, in
some excitement.

“ Take :1 careful look down-stream and tell Inc
whether you see any thing unusual.”

“No— don’t know as I do,” slowly repeat~
ed Leslie. “Hold on—yes I do—yonder is a
log, or more likely two or three of them—a raft.
I su . se, Leland, it is for our benefit." ‘

“ ndoubtedly. It was constructed for the
benefit of the white race generally: and as we
come first we are to be served first.”
1‘“I{et us cut in to shore and give them the
s 1 .

B It may be the very thing they wishus to do.
The action of the savages, so far, shows that
they are more anxitus to take prisoners than to
slay men. So keep quiet and don’t allow your-
self to become nervous.”

 

CHAPTER VI.
run RAFT.

SLOWLY, silently and gently the boat glided
onward—both Leslie and Leland as motionless
as death, yet with hearts throbbing wildly
and fearfully. The former stooped and whis-

red.

“There are three Indians on it, upon the o

osite side from us. We must pas beyond t e
og before the will be in range of our us.
They will not re until we begin to pass t em.
Take a quick but sure aim, and drop down in
the bottom of the boat the instant your gun is
discharged.”

Nearer and nearer came the canoe to the log,
until but a few reds separated them, but not a
breath or fluttering of a leaf disturbed the pro-
found silence.

When at the nearest point, scarcely more than
two rods would separate them. Still onward
the boat swept until its prow was even with the ‘

10 .

g‘Beady,” whispered Leslie, “you take the
nearest one.”

The next instant the enemies were in full
view of each other. Simultaneously the two
rifles in the boat broke the solemn stillness.
But not a sound showed whether their shots
had produced any effect at all! Not asav e’s
head however, could be seen! They ei er
had been slain or else had been quietly drawn
out of sight when they became aware of the
danger that menaoed them. The latter was
most probably the case, although neither

 

 

 

 

 

12 Kent, the Ranger.

 

ohthe whites could satisfy himself upon that

pomt.

As the thin haze from the guns diil‘used it—
self over the spot, the same oppressive Silence
settled upon the water, and the same absence of
life was manifest in every thing around. So
sudden had been the interruption, that, a few
minutes afterward, it was almost impossible to
realize that it had actually occurred. More
than once both Leslie and Leland (taught them-
selves debating this very point in their minds.

For a few moments the two remained conceal-
ed within the boat for they well knew that dan-
ger yet threatened; but, nervously excited over
the event, Leland with a sad want of discretion,
peered over the {runwale of the canoe.

“Down, instantly,” admonished his compan-
ion, catching his shoulder.

The report of another gun came at that very
instant, and George dropped so suddenly and
awkwardly out of sight, that Leslie inquired
with much concern: .

“ Are you hurt?”

“ Pretty near it. at any rate,” returned Le-
land putting his hand to his face.

He was not struck, however, although the ball
had grazed and marked his check. The instant
Leland saw that he was not injured, he raised
himself and aimed toward the log. No sign of
an enemy was visible, and not knowing but
what there might be more loaded rifles be-
hind tlie contrivance he dropped his head again.

Peering cautiously over the gun Wale, the young
man saw the raft radually approaching the
Kentucky shore. he Indians ssesxing no
means of reloading their pieces wi out running
great risk, probably deemed it best to make a
safe retreat.

The distance between the whites and the sav-
ages slowly but surely increased, and when the
former judged they were comparatively safe,
they arose and plied their paddles.

“ N ow if we can only come across Kent. I shall
be pretty hopeful of getting out of the woods,”
remarked Leslie. ‘

“But how is that to be done? There is just
the trouble.”

“I think he will find us if we only wait for
him.”

“,I a rec with you, that it is all we can do.
We wil row down-stream a short distance fur-
ther, where we will be sheltered from the obser-
vation of our enemies, and wait until he comes,
or until it is pretty certain that he will not.”

Leslie bent to his cars, and the boat again shot
forward. Each now felt a stron or hope. The
depression of spirits under/whic Leland was
laboring began to undergo a reaction.

Leslie was naturally o a more buoyant dispo-
sition than Leland, and seldom suffered those

s 113 of melancholy which are so apt to affect ,

t use of a temperament loss sanguine. The lat-
ter at seasons was more light-hearted than the
former, yet adverse circumstances easily affected
and de ressed him.

The ocality to which Leslie had referred was
a place in the river where the overhangin
boughs and underwood were so thick and luxuri-
ant that it was an easy matter to send a small
boat beneath them and remain effectually hidden
groin an enemy passing up or down the river,

 

Their Ian was to conceal themselves, and thus,
while a ording themselves comparative security,
to keep an unremitting watch for the appear-
ance of Kent. They expected, and in fact were
certain, that he would descend the opposite side,
which, from their hiding-place, cou d be easily
see

u.

Leslie, with a vigorous pull, sent the boat un-
der the sweeping branches, and, coming to rest,
remarked:

“There, George, we are safe for the present.
An Indian might pass Within twenty feet of us,
and not dream of our roximitfi’

“ True, Leland, I fee glad t t we are thus
fortunate.”

“ See,” continued Leslie, “ whata nice arrange
ment. From my seat I can keep a good view of
the opposite side.”

“ How long do you intend to remain here?”
asked Leland, whose fears were ever on the alert.

“ Can’t say precisely.”

“Remember that food will be necessary, and
soon necessary, too.”

“ I am aware of that, yet we can do without it
for some time. If Kent is going to pass us, it
will be during to-morrow.”

“ Leslie," said Leland, earnestly, “ I have been
thinking deeply upon our chances of meeting
hing and I must confes that they seem few in-
dee .

“ I do not doubt it. They would have the
same appearance to me, were it not for one thing.
1 have been calculating, and though, of course,
a great deal of guess-work has been employed,
yet I think that I have come to a very nearly
correct conclusion. I’m pretty positive that if
Kent reaches us, it will be in the neighborhood
of to-morrow at mid-da . Not seeing him, I
shall fire my rifle. Kent lysnows the sound of it,
and will search for us.”

“ Perhaps he may not be upon the opposite
shore.”

“Which Will be as well, yet I can think of no
reason that would induce him to cross.”

“In the mean time, how do (you propose that
we pass away time and keep 0 ennui.”

“ 1n sleep, it that is possible.”

“ I think it is with myself,” returned Leland,
with a light laugh.

“ And the same with me,” added Leslie.

“ Well, the circumstances being favorable, I
propose that we commence operations at once.”

“ A good suggestion.”

Both disposed themselves as best they could in
thia boat, and being tired and fatigued, were soon
as eep.

 

CHAPTER VII.
LOST AND FOUND.

THE two young men slept soundly throu h the
night. When Leslie awoke it was broa day,
and his companion was still asleep. He suifered
him to remain so until the day was well advanc
ed. Then each felt the an s of . hunger. Le~
land proposed that one s on d land and go in
quest of food, but Leslie anwered: ‘1

“If Kent ap rs, it will be in' the course of
a few hours. e had better wait and see what
comes of patience.”

Another hour 9: silence were away. Inland

4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“ Rent, the flangez‘. 13

was about to speak, when Leslie exclaimed, in a

Militia!" .

They listened intently. In a moment the
steady, measured dip of paddles could be heard.
Whoever was approaching had little fear or ap-
prehension of danger, for they came fearlessly
along, and were moving with considerable noise
and swiftness.

Leland and Leslie held their breath as the
sound came steadily nearer. Not a whisper was
exchanged. The former, from his position, could
not discern any object that might be passing,
but the latter had a full view of the river.

In a moment the whole force passed before
Leslie’s eyes. Two canoes loaded with Indians

lided past, unconscious of their proximity.
§ach drew a long breath of relief, but for acou-
siderable time neither ventured a whisper.

“ It appears to me that Indians are plenty in
these parts,” remarked Leland.

“Rather more than I could wish,” returned
his companion.

“ Confound it! it will soon be time for you to
fire your gun, and of course the savages will
hear it."

“ But for all that I will risk it. It will not do
to let Kent escape us."

“ How soon do you intend discharging your
piece?”

“ In an hour or so.”

“ Well, see here, Roland, if Kent comes, it can-
not be expected that he will have any food. The
report of your gun will doubtless reach the ears
of enemies as well as friends.”

“ I e t it will.”

“ An still further—if such be the case, we
shall not dare to land for fear of an encounter.
We may be obliged to remain concealed for a
few days, and no means will be left to procure

food during that time. Now, what I am coming .

to is this-while we have an opportunity to get
it, let us do it.”

“ How do you roposo obtaining it?”

“ Easily enoug . Just let me land, and Iwill
insure you success in a short time.”

“ But you have overlooked one thing."

“ What is it?”

“ The report of ggur gun will beheard as well
as mine, and will likely to attract the atten—
tion of any enemies in the neighborhood.”

“ That is true, but I can reach the boat in
time.”

“ And although Kent is Within a. short dis-
tance I shall not dare to apprise him of our
situation.”

“Such appears to be the case; but you must
see that it is absolutely necessary that some
means should be taken to secure food.”

“ I admit it, and am willing that you should

1?

“7‘ Hold!” exclaimed Leland, brightening u ,
“ I have a plan. You say that Kent, in t 9
course of an hour or so, will probably be near
enough for you to fire. I will try and not bring
down any game until that time, and the mlnute
you hear t e re rt of my gun you must dis-
charge yours. his will have the effect that ou
wish, and I shall have time to reach you be ore
any one comes up.” ‘ _

‘ A capital idea," said Leslie. “ Hearing two

 

guns. the Indians will have a little more fear in
approaching us than they would did they bear
but one. You deserve credit, George, for the
thought.” ’

“Remember, and wait until you hear my gun
before you fire yours,” replied be.

“I will wait an hour, George; and then,
whether Ihear yours or not, I shall discharge
mine. As I said awhile ago, it won’t do to let
Kent” escape us, and I must be sure to warn

“ I trust that I shall encounter game before
that time; but should I not, you must do as you
said. I will return upon hearing on.”

“And return instantly,” said slie, impres
sively. “Don’t wait until the danger is in-
creased. Although it may seem that a few
minutes will enable you to procure abundant
food, don’t wait a single minute. It may cost
you Iyour life if you do.”

“ will remember your advice. New shove
in a little nearer shore and I will be off.”

Leslie brought the boat to the bank and Le
land stepped off.

“Try and not be gone long; do not wander
too far, for it will be an easy thin r to at lost
in this forest. Remember that it wi 1 ta '0 you
considerable time to reach me, and if the dis-
tance be too great, an enemy maybe ahead of
you. Be careful in all your movements, and
be sure to return the instant that my gun is
heard.”

“ I will try and obey you,” returned Leland.
And George disappeared in the mazes of the
woods. ' ' '

Leslie returned to his former position, and,
more to occupy his mind than anything else,l
gazed out upon the broad bosom of the Ohio, as
it glided majestically along through the dark
shadows of the forest. It then presented afar
different appearance from what it does at this
day. No crowded cities thou lined its banks.
The flaming steamboat had not broken its sur-
face: the canoe gliding noiselesst over it, “as
all that ave token of the presence 0t man. A
rude cu in erected in some lone spot in {he
wilderness, like a green oasis in the desert,
showed the feeble footing which he had upon the
soil.

Solemnly and silently the old Ohio rolled
along through its hundreds of miles, until it as
solemnly and silently united with the great
Father of Waters.

When one has recently passed through an ex-
citing and momentous occurrence, and is then
left completely alone, it is difficult to keep from
falling into a reverie; the subject which inter—
ests the mind most will finally occupy it to the
exclusion of everything else.

Thus it was With Roland Leslie. At first he-
began speculating upon the probable success of
Leland’s enterprise; then upon the probability
of his arresting the attention of Kent should he
chance to be in the vicinity. Having considered
this for some time, he reflected upon the dangers
thropigh which he had passed, and upon the like-
liho of further deliverance from them. This
thought called to mind his mishap among the
rocks, and he proceeded to examine his wounds
of which, for some time, he had entirely ceased
to think. These being not very severe, as we-

14 Kent, the Ranger.

 

have shown, had failed to trouble him, and he
w is glad to see that they needed no more atten-
tl lil-

Again left to his thoughts, they shortly wan}
dared to Rosalind Leland. Where was she?
Was she alive, or already slain? Was there any
hope of meeting her again? Could he do any—
tiiiug toward rescuing cher from bondage? e
felt certain that she was alive. although a close

v prisoner, and was confident that recover was

pos iible. That he determined she should e res-
cued, and that he should be the one that would
do it, was not strange.

Love will upset the mind of any person, and
at times play the wild With him. Leslie was
naturally clear—headed, far-sighted and saga-
cious; yet, when he permitted his ideas to dwell
upon the object of his love, they sadly misused
lll’l). At such times he was another person. He
lost sight of the obstacles and dangers which
would have been apparent to an one gifted
with ordinary shrewdness; and he ormed plans
which. in his sober moments, would have only
excited his ridicule.

Strange as it may seem for such a person to

L ‘ h'IVB been guilty of such an idea, Leslie had not

pmdered upon the absorbing topic for any

' length of time before he deliberate] came tothe

conclusion to rescue Rosalind in t 6 course of
thrae days, to rebuild her old home, and settle
down with her for the rest of his life! Of course
th»: savages would never disturb him, and he
sh )uld be, without doubt, the happiest mortal in
existence!

He was suddenly awakened from his reverie
by the faint re ort of Leland’s rifle. It sounded
if my a mile ‘stant, and the certaint of his
(linger made him tremble with appre ension.
George, as he feared, had forgotten the warning
given him, and, in the excitement, had uncon-
sciously wandered to a greater distance than he
supposed. In all probability he was lost, and
would be obliged to seek the river and follow it
in order to find Leslie. This would require
time, and he had already exposed himself to
dad or by firing his gun.

A though Roland had promised to fire 11 n
hearing Leland, yet he forbore to do it. he
difference which a half-hour would make in the
probability of Kent’s hearing his own gun,
would be in his favor. He supposed thatLe-
land, upon dischargin his piece, had instant]
~4st out to return, and e wis ed to give him a -
most sufficient time to reach him.

Anxioust and ainfully Roland listened, with

, his finger upon he trigger of his gun, and, as

minute after minute wore awe Without a
sounl reaching him, he began to ope that Le-
land could be at no great distance.

A few more minutes were passed, when Ro-
land concluded that the time for firing his signal
had arrived. It would serve to guide Leland,
and, had he not deceived himself, would reach
the cars of Kent. Standing up in the boat, he
raised the gun above his head, and was already
pressing the trigger, when he paused. as he
hoard the sharp crack of Leland’s rifle at no
great distance. He waited a few seconds, until
the echo had died away, and then discharged
his own.

He remained stationary a moment, as though

 

to permit the sound to escape entirely from his
rifle. Then, reseating himself, proceeded to re-
load it. This done, he impatiently listened for a
returning si 1. He had placed a great deal of
reliance an hope upon that shot, and, as he
now was so soon to learn whether it had ac-
complished what he wished, he could not keep
down his fearful anxiety.

He was nervous, and istened with painful in-
terest for the slightest sound. The falling of a
leaf startledhim; and, at last, unable to restrain
himself, he determined again to fire his .

At that instant there came a crash of fiand’s
rifle, followed by the maddened shouts of infuri-
ated savages, so near that Leslie sprung to his
feet and azed about him. Recovering himself,
he stooped, and, seizing a paddle, began shoving
the boat toward shore, fully determined to
afford his friend all the assistance that lay in his

power.

The boat had hardly touched, when there was
a rustling in the bushes directly before him, and
the next instant Kent stood beside him.

“ Quick—shove out! They are after us!” he
exclaimed, springing into the boat and grasping
the cars.

“ Where is George?” asked Leslie.

“ They’ve got him, and came nigh getting
me. Cuss the infernal devils!”

In a moment the two had freed themselves
from the bushes. As the yells of their enemies
were heard upon the shore they had reached the
center of the stream, and were passing swiftly
downward.

 

CHAPTER VIII.

THE COMPANION IN CAPTIVITY.

WHEN Leland left the boat, he wandered for-
ward for a considerable dis‘ance, not noticing
the direction in which he was going, only in-
tent upon securing game of some sort or other.
Birds and quadru were plea , and he did
not entertain any oubts of his abi 'ty to secure

all that he wished. He permitted several

shots to , for the reason that he not
wish to re until the hour was 11 . By this
means he unconsciously increased t e distance
between himself and Leslie, until it occurred to
him that the hour had nearly expired. A few
minutes after, having a good opportunity, he
improved it, and, securing his prize, turnedto
retrace his steps.

Then it flashed upon him, for the first time
that he was lost. As we said, he had failed
to notice the direction, and had no idea of

the course to pursue in order to reach the,

river. The only means left was to proceed
by guess; contrary to What might be ex—
pected, he took the right course. is anxiety
caused him to be somewhat headless; and after
proceeding a short distance, be again discharged

is rifle. Then hearing the report of Leslie’s
rifle but a short distance away, he set joyously
forward, confident of soon coming up to him.
He had not gone far when he heard a suppressed
significant whistle. Hardly conscious of its
meanin , he paused and listened. It was rfireat-
ed, and coming suspicious, he rung be ad a
tree. While listening, the su lied voice of
Kent reached him:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kent, the Ranger. 15

 

' “Make for the river, George; the imps are
on our trail.”

e turned to obey this injunction, but had not
taken a dozen steps when a rifle flamed from
some concealment, and a twinge in his side told
him that he was Wounded. At the same instant
severdl savages sprung toward him. setting up
their demoniac howls. The pain of his wound
maddenod him, and, regardless of consequences,
he raised his rifle and shot the foremost; through
the breast, when scarcely the length of his gun
from him.

This act, though rash, and one which he would
not have done in his cooler moments, was the
means eventually of saving his life. The inten-
tion of the savages was to kill him on the spot;
but the death of one of their number increased
their fury and thirst for vengeance, and the
chief or leader deterred the others from further
violence, determined that his death should be at
the stake.

“You shoot Indian, eh?” said one, through
his closed teeth, brandishing his knife at the
same time in the face of the young man.

He made no reply; but weakened by the loss
of blood, sunk fainting to the ground. He was
jerked to his feet, and although barely able to
stand, was forced forward, and compelled to
kee pace with the others.

he Indians who had thus captured Leland
were the same band who had pursued him and
Kent. The latter had taken a circuitous course,
and, after placing a considerable distance be-
tween himself and his enemies, took the back
track and reached the gorge where Leslie had

fallen, hoping to find him there; but being dis-

appointed, followed his trail to the river where
he saw that he had embarked in the boat.

Kent knew that his own trail would be fol-
lowed. In order to mislead the savages to took
to the water and swam about a half-mile down-
stream before he landed upon the opposite side.
But it seemed that fate was against him. The
savages in pursuing him had separated some-
what. Kent’s ruse one of them accidentally
discovered, and apprised his comganions. The
collected and immediately took t e right trai .
The first intimation the ranger had of his dan-

er was the whistling of a bullet a few inches
grom his head, as he was nearing the bank: and
when his feet rested upon land, his unwearied
and tenacious enemies were in the river, boldly
crossing toward him.

When the Indians reached the bank, Kent
wasalready at a great distance, yet they con-
tinued their pursuit, and had gone some dis
tance, when the first report of Leland’s rifle
reached their cars. This they mistook for Kent’s
and abandonin the trail, made directly toward
it. The secon discharge of the young man‘s

noccurred when he was but a s ort istance
Slim them. Kentendeavored to warn him of
his danger, but as we have seen, 1t was too late.
He himself was discovered and hotly pursued to

.the boat, where he barely succeeded in making

his escape.

Leland’s captors took up their march toward
the Ohio. Here, although their captive was suf-
fering intense agony, t ey forced him into the
water, and compelled him to smile across.
Every stroke he thought would be hls last, yet

 

he reached the shore in safety. The band set
forward at once. There were six savages, upon
two of whom the duty of attending Leland de-
volved.

In the course of a couple of hours they came
upon two of their companions, seated around
and amusing themselves with a negro. Each
appeared to enjoy himself prodigiously at the
expense of the poor African, who was boiling
over With furious rage.

” Get out, Diggers I” he shouted, “my head’s
split wide open now, sure!”

Here one of the savages amused himself by
letting the end of a weighty stick fall upon the
head of the negro. The luxuriant wool caused
it to rebound again, to the infinite delight of the
tormentors, who smiled horribly at it.

Leland recognized Zeb as he came up. It gave
him a sort of pleasure, or rather served to light-
en his pain, to know that they were to be com-
panions in captivity. He could robably obtain
inf01 motion of Rosalind, while t o conversation
of the slave might assist to keep off the gloom
which was settling over him. ‘

“ Gorra, cf dar ain’t Massa Leland!” exclaim-
ed the negro, turning toward the approaching
Indians. “ Hi1 whar’d you come from, George!
What did you let ’em cotch you fur?”

“ Because I could not prevent it,” returned he,
with a faint smile.

“ Well, now, if’t had been dis pusson, you see,
dey’d’ve had some trouble.”

“ How is it that you are here, then?”

“ Well, (lat question requires considerable ex-
planation. I lmow’d as how dey’s a—foin’ to git
you, and so I just come along to help you (mt do
scrape.”

here the conversatk
Leland had strcix'hcd . . - ‘.
and the pain of his Wound hm: .-.  -;. A.
savage noticing this, prepared a sort of poultice
of pounded leaves and herbs, and placed it upon
his side. Had this been done with a view to al-
leviate his sufi'ering and not to preserve him for
a great and awful torture, as it really was, Le-
land might have felt disposed to thank him for
l

t.

It had now begun to grow dark. A fire was
started, and in a short time a large quantity of
meat was roasted. A piece of this was offered to
Leland, but, though a short time before he had
felt keenly the pangs of hunger, the sight of food
now filled him with loathing.

“ S’posen you offer dis 7pusson a few pounds,
just to seeif he’ll take it sug ested Zeb, gazing
wistfully toward the Indian w 0 held it.

Several pieces were given him, all of which he
devoured voraciously.

As night came on, the savages stretched them—
selves upon the earth and left the prisoners to
themselves. Each was secure] fastened. Le-
land was within a few feet of eb’, yet be con-
cluded to wait until all were asleep before he
ventured to hold converse with him.

At len th, when the night had considerably
advanc , and the heavy breathing of the sav-
ages showed that slumber had at last settled up-
on them, George turned his head so that he faced
the negro, and abruptly asked:

“ Zeb, what do you know of my sister?”

“ Noflin’ I” returned the negro, earnestly.

7-‘1~.

 

  

5w j] w!‘ H. n

 
     

 

,hurt ’em, and sai somefin’ ’bout tying some-

lare rescued pretty soon, we shall be past all hu~

probably had some effect 11 n him, for he made

‘ Inland.

’ S'ist him.

r at his victim, unwonted yesrnings come over

13 r Lkent, the Ranger.

“ Were you not taken 03 together?”

“ At fu’st we was; but dey took her one way
and me anoder.” He then proceeded to narrate
all the circumstances which had occurred to him
since the burning of the house, in his own char-
acteristic way.

“I am afraid you will soon have your last ad—
venture,” said Leland.

“ Gorral does you s’pose dat dey’d dare to
shake a stick at me when I’s mad?”

“ I think they were engaged at that when I
came up.”

“ Well, dat you see is a mistake.”

“ Have you heard anythin hinted of the man-
ner in which they intend to ispose of you?”

“ Not much, but 1 consates dat I knows. Dey—
’11 just make me dar chief, if I’ll stay wid ’em,
and 1’s ’bout ’cluded dat I would, just so dat I
can ay ’em for dis trick.”

“ ave they made the proposition yet?"
asked George, feeling a strange impulse to
amuse himse f.

“ Well, ’bout as cod. Dey axed me not to
body to a tree and roastin’ ’em. 8 pose dey’s
’traid I’ll do it to all ob ’em one dese days, if
dev isn’t careful.”

“Why do they misuse you, if they intend to
elevate ou '

“ Wei dat’s hard to tell. They’ve gone and
went an cut all my curls off."

“Never mind such things,” said Leland, again
feeling depressed. “In all probabilitv neither
you nor I will see many more days. Unless we

man help. I advise you, Zeb, to let serious
thou hts enter your mind. " Think of the world
whic you are soon to enter, and try and make
some preparation for it.”

The negro gamed wondering) at Leland, then
turned his head without spea 'ng. The words

no further observations. is silence seemed oc—
casioned by the doom pendin over him.
That night was one never be forgotten by
he pain of his wound, and the still
greater pain of his thoughts, prevented a mo-
ment’s sleep. Hour after hour he gazed into
the smoldering embers before him, buried in
deep meditation, and conjuring up fantastic
figures in the glowing coals.
Far in the small hours of the night, he lay still
awake, sending n his prayers to the only eye
th it saw him, an to the only one that could as-

 

CHAJPTER IX.
znn’s REVENGE.
WHEN the King of Terrors shakes his sword

the human heart. To die alone, removed from
home and friends, when strange faces are beside
us, is a fate which we all fervently pray may
not be ours.

It is at such times as these, if at no other, that
the stricken and bowed heart turns to the One
who alone can cheer and sustain. When shut
out from all pros t of human help, and con

 

seious that there 8 but one arm Which is not

‘ shortened, we do not draw back from calling . ‘

itipo? that arm to sustain us in the dark hour of
ma .

With the dull glow of the slumbering camp-
fire, the grotesriue groups of almost unconscious
sleepers, the so emu sighing of the night-wind,
and the twinkle of the stars through the branches
overheadmwith such mournful surroundings as
thfig,dGeorge Leland sent up his prayer of agony
to

He prayed, not for life, but for the repara-
tion to meet the death impending. he soft
wailing of the night-zephyr seemed to warn him
that the death-angel was approaching every mo-
ment. He prayed for his beloved sister in the
hands of ruthless enemies—grayed only as he
could pray when he realized er peril. And he
sent up his petition for the safety of Leslie, who,
might still be awaitin his return—for the rough;
ranger with him, an for the rude, untutored
ne 0, now his brother-prisoner.

short distance away he could discern the:
shadowy form of Zeb, bound against a tree,
while scattered around him were stretched the
save e sentinels, Whether asleep or not he was.
unab e to tell.

The heart of Leland bled for the poor ignorant
colored man. His prolonged silence showed that
he had begun to realize, in some measure his ap-v
pallng situation.

It was fully an hour beryeond midnight, when- '

in spite of his situation land began to yield
to the fatigue of the day. His head drooped
upon his breast, and he started fitfully. It is at
such times as these that the nervous system
seems to be most fully alive to what is passing.
The prisoner was just in this state of mind when
his attention was arrested by a. sound no louder
than the murmuring wind above him—so low,
indeed, that it would have escaped his attention
altogether, had it hot been of a character difler—
ent from that monotdnous moaning.

With the consciousness of this sound, came
also the knowledge that it was a continuous one
and had been in progress some time. At first i
seemed to be in the tree above him, but a mo-
ment’s listening proved that it came from the
direction of the negro, Zeb. The darkness had
deepened somewhat during the last hour, so that
he could barel make the outline of the fellow,
but could not iscern any motion upon his part,
unless it was an ab lute change of position.

All doubt as to eb being the author of the:
disturbing sound was removed as soon as Le--
land became fully awake. It came from direct:-
ly toward him, and was of Such a nature that it.
could not have been causedby one of the sleep-
in g Shawnees. With his eyes intently fixed up-i
on the shadowy outlines of the negro. Leland
saw the upper of his body move forward,
and then suddenly straighten itself again. This.

sin lar movement was repeated several times, ‘

an then, to his amazement, he saw the African

iteplclear away from the tree and approach
1m "
As Zeb deposited his foot on the ound, it -

was slowly and cautiously, and at eac time he
threw his outstretched arms upward, like a bird
when flying, distoltlnghis face also, as if the»
effort caused him extreme pain. But he passed

the sleepers in. safety, and was soon beside his. .

"313?.

 

 

 

 

 

" How did you succeed in freeing yourself?”
he asked.

“ Golly, I chewed ‘em off i” he replied, with a
suppressed chuckle. “Had a great notion of
chawin’ de tree off, so dat it mought fall on dem
and broke dar necks.”

“ ’Sh! you are making too much noise,” ad-
monished Leland, in a guarded whisper.

“ Shall I eat up your cords?" ’

“ Loosen them around my wrists and arms,
and then I will help myself.’

“ Yere’s de instruments dat will do dat same

. t’ing,” said Zeb, applying himself to the task at

once. He pro essed with such celerity and suc-
cess that in a eW moments, to Leland’s unspeak-
able delight, he found his arms at liberty. It
need scarcely be said that these were immedi-
ately used to assist the negro in his further ef-
forts.

The excitement and nervousness of the young
man were so great, that when his limbs were
freed of the fettcrs he was scarcely able to
stand, and, for a few moments, was on the very
verge of fainting. By a. powerful effort he re-

ained his self~ ssession, and strove in the few
hurried secon s that were his, to decide upon
some means of action.

It may be said that the two prisoners were

literally surrounded by savages. They were

stretched on every side of them, and before
either dare hope to escape, it was necessary (if

 the expression be allowable) to scale the dreaded

prison wall. Leland had good cause to fear_suc-
cess for himself and his sable companion in this
attempt. He found, to his chagrin and dismay.
that scarcely any reliance at all could be placed
upon his own limbs. His legs especially, from
their long confinement in one position, were so
cramped and spasmodic, that, when he stepped
out from the tree to join the negro, one of them
doubled like a reed beneath him and let him fall
to the ground. He believed that it was all over
with him, but his fall was so gentle as not to
disturb the sleepers, and he once more raised
himself to his feet.

“ Sha’n’t I carry dat sick leg: while you walk
wid de oder one?” inquired Zeb, in a sympa-
thetic tone.

“ It is almost uselessto me at present," replied
Leland. “Let me lean upon you while we walk,
and for the love of Heaven, Zeb, be cautious. A
single mismovc, and it will be all up with

1

2‘ Strikes dis Chile dat it was ober wid you jes’
now,’de way you cawalloped onto de ground Jes’
now ’

“ My leg is asleep and numb.”

“ Let’s wake it up, den."

Leland paused a few moments until the circu—
lation was somewhat restored; but, as every

. moment Seemed so fraught with peril to him, he

whispered to the negro to move ahead, repeat—
ing his petition for him to exercise the most ex:
trcme caution in all his movements.

At first Zeb entirely overdid the matter. The
trained elephant that steps over the prostrate
and pompous form of Van Amburg, was not
more careful and tardy in his performance of
the feat than was the negro in passmg the un-
conscious form of a Shawnee. Although LP?

_ land deemed this circumspection unnecessary, ‘

 

 

Kent, the Ranger. . 1'?

did not protest, as he feared, in case he did so,
the negro would run into the opposite extreme.

The foot of Zeb was lifted in the very act of
stepping over the third and last savage, when a
smo dering ember parted, and a twist of flame
flared up. At that instant he looked down, and
race nized in the features of the Indian the one
who ad taken such especial delight in tormentr
ing him through the day. The negro paused
while he was yet astride of him.

“ Look dar, ' he whispered, “ dat’s him—tired
himself out so much pullin’ at my wool, dat he
is sleepin’ like a chicken in de egg.”

Leland made no reply. but motioned for him
to proceed, but Zeb steadily maintained his po-
sition.

“ Look what a mouf he has,” he added; “ tre—
menjus. If 7twas only two, free inches wider on
each side, he mought outshine me; but it’s no
use de way de affair is got up jcs’ now.”

“ Go on! go on i” repeated Leland, shoving
him impatiently with his hand.

“ In jes’ one minit Dat’s him dat bothered
me so much to—day. I’d like to smoke him for
it. Gorra! if he hain’t Woke. Dar—take dat!”

The savage, who had been an aliened and
alarmed b the voice of the negro, received a.
smashing low in his face that straightened him
out completely. Realizing his imminent peril,
Leland at ‘once leaped awe y in the woods at the
top of his speed, the negro taking a direction al-
most 0 posit/3. Every Shawnee was aroused;
tfie critical moment for the fugitives was upon
t em.

 

CHAPTER X.
THE BRIEF REPRIEVE.

LELAND succeeded in gettipg outside the cir
cle of savages. when, feeling himself in the open
woods, he dashed away at the top of his speed.
He ran with astonishing swiftness for a few
moments. when, as might naturally be expect—
ed. he so exhausted himself that he was scarcely
able to stand.

From the moment of starting the Shavnms
seemed to understand the identity of thr ii 9(-
tives; and while they did not neglect to H ml in
pursuit of the flying negro, four of their S‘eeiest'
runners instantly dashed after the wh‘tu n‘nu.
Were it in the daylight the latter r ould not
have stood a moment’s chance against ti cm; tut
he hoped to elude them in the darkness and git cm
of the woods. The obscuration beinzv only par-
tial. his pursuers close in his rear, 81 d the noise
of the rustling leaves beneath his fei t i r-traying
every step, it will be seen at once 1:] at Le was in .
the most constant and imminent d :iger. ,

Pausin but a few seconds—barely sufficient
to catch is “ second breath,"-ho : gain lrapr d- ,
away. There is no telling how lcng he would
have run, had he not stepped into a hole, deep
and narrow—the mouth of a fox’s burrow, ev1— '
dently, for it was quite hidden by < vcrgrowth—
he fell into the hole with a sudden violence ;
which confused and stunned him.’ Punting and .
exhausted, he lay still and awaited his pursuers.
They were far closer than he imagined. He
seemed scarcely to have disappeared. when the
whole four passed within a few feet of him. ,

Leland had lain hele less than five minutes,~'_ '

‘ w a second footstep startled him. It came .

 

 

_v.,«..vr-..M,;_.,.m-w .wu-.»..-m.~.s,__.,w»m~..‘..c “has,” own”. .n, .,.

, steal a vny before to morning came.

18 Kent. the Ranger.

from an entirely (lill'crcnt direction; and ap-

roaching in wi thin about a doch foot, it halted.

ising to his 11 inds and feet so that his head was
brought upon a level with the ground, he peered
through tug darkness at the object. One long,
earn-“st, s -rutinizing 100k, revealed the dress of
a larve indian. His posmion was so favorable,
that he could even make out the rifle he held in
his hand.

/He stool as motionless as a statue for a mo

ment. an] then gave utterance to a cry that re-
semblerl exactly that of the whippowil. Receiv-
ing no response, he repented it again, but with
no better success than before. The cowering
fugitive was listening for the slightest move-
ment upon his art, when to his unfeigned
amazement, the ndian in a suppressed whisper
calls] out, “ Leland!”
, Tue young man, however, was not thrown off
his guard. He knew that every one of his cap-
tors spoke the English language, some of them
quite fluently. It need scarcely be said that he
made no response to the call. even when it was
iterat'vl again and again. The savage during
theso utterances did not stir a hand or foot. but
seem", I to bond all his faculties into the one of
listeni'riz‘. Ho had stood but a few moments,
when Leland caught the rustle of approaching
feet.

The Indian detected them at the same mo-

' ment, and. instantly moved 011', but with such a

Gatlike trend that the young man scarcely heard
him at all. Ah! had he but known the identity
of that strange Indian, and responded to his
call, he would have been saved.
’ It was s:arcelv a moment later when the
whole f0 2" Indians came back at a leisurely
alt, an I h iltcd not more than a rod from where
eland in) mined he lay concealed. They com-
menr‘nl r- mversing at once in broken English:
"‘ Waits man got legs of deer—~run fast," said

one.

“Yum-fin; away from four Shummumde-
wumrn ‘i—run much fast,” added another.

“Go 4, ”~'< to camp—stay (lore—won’t come
among ftmzvnee ag’in—don’t like him, t’ink.”

“He run much fast—mebbe fast as black
man.”

At thi: point the whole four laughed immod-
eratcly, mif in remembrance of the ludicrous
figure ci‘Zl‘o. Their mirth continued for sev-
eral m()"n'mts, when they sobered down and re—
newed their conversation.

“Wait till dayli ht—den foller trail t’rough

 

‘ woods—Shurnmum ewumrum git eye on it—

soon cotch him.”

This Leland {alt was now his great danger.
Should his ur-‘uers return to their camp, he
hoped the distan as that he thus gained upon
them would be su‘flcient to carry him entirely
beyond their reach; but if they decided to re-
main where they were, his only chance was to
Jud 'ng
such to be their intention, he determin to
make the attempt at once.

0 l his hands and knees he commenced crawl-
in': forward, listening to every word that was

/ uttered.

“White man try hard to git away—don’t like
Shawnee great much.”
“, He run much fast, den fall down in woods !”

 

“Den try to crawl away like snake!”

Leland saw that it was ' all over with him and
gave up at once. The Indians had been aware
of his hiding—place from the moment he fell, and
their passage beyond it, their return and their
conversation, were all made on purpose to toy
with 1115 fears, as a cat would play with a mouse
before destroying it.

As one of the savages uttered the last words
he walked directly to the prostrate man, and
ordered him to arise. Leland judged it best to
resist no further. He accordingly obeyed, and,
saddened and despairing, was led back a pris-
oner to the Indian camp.

 

A realizing sense of his recklessness and his
imminent )eril came over Zeb when he felled
the rising k hawnee to the earth. It was his in-
tention, in the first place. to serve every one in
the some manner; but as they came to their
feet far more rapidly than he anticipated. he
gave over the idea, and, with a “ Ki! yi!”
plunged headlong into the woods. At this very
juncture, the attention of the Indians was
taken up with Leland, as the more important
captive of the two, and for a moment the negro
escaped notice; but the instant the four started
after him, two others gave Zeb their undivided
attention.

The sable fugitive, with all his recklessness,
did the very best thing that could have been
done under the circumstances. Instead of flee-
ing, as did Leland, he ran less than a hundred
yards7 when be halted abruptly and took a po-
sition behind a sapling. Here he stood as mo—
tionless as death, while his enemies came on.
Whether his intensely black countenance had
the power of difl? using deeper darkness into the
surrounding gloom, or whether it was the un-
expected manner of his flight that deluded his
pursuers, we are unable to say. Certain it is
that although the two savages passed very
closely to him, neither saw nor suspected his
presence

,“Gorra, but dat’s socthin’,” chuckled Zeb.
“De ’vc missed me dis time, shuahl Wonder
whet or dey’ll outlive dar disa p’intment, when
dey finds out dat when dey finds me, dey hain’t
found me! Kil yil”

He maintained his motionless position for sev-
eral moments longer, all the while listenin for
his enemies. As their footste finally di out
in the distance, and he realize that he was left
8.1011119 indeed, his former characteristic returned
to im.

“What’s to be done, dab am de question?”
said be, speaking in an incautiously loud voice,
as be spread out his left hand at the same time,
and rested the forefinger of his right upon it.
“ In dc fu’st place, I don’t know what has be-
come of Master Leland. If he’s done got away,
howam I to find him? If 1 sets up a yell to
cntch his car, like ‘nufl.’ do oders will hear it
also likewise. Den if he hasn’t got :1an what
am do use ob bawlin’ to him? Guess I won’t
bawl.” ,

So much was settled at least.

“One thing am sart’in, howsumever,” he ad-

ded. “ I’m hungry, and I know dar am some '

meat left by data camp-fire, dab would rehsh

high jus’ now. But had I oughter to go dar or

n-z,

 

 

‘TW' {'5‘

 blaze, rubbing and turning

Rent, the Ranger. V '15

not? Dov mought found me, but den I’m hun—
ww’

Although he comprehended in a degree the
risk he run, he decided it was worth his while
to do it, rather than suffer for a few hours
longer the cravings of what was only a moder-
ate degree of hunger.

“ De stummich am do most importantest part
oh man, and consequently am dc fu’st t’ing dat
should receive his undiwided attention.”

With this philoso hical conclusion, he turned
hls footsteps tow ar the camp-fire. Despite its
proximity, he experienced considerable diffi-
culty in finding it. The few smolderin em—
bers, gleaming like a demou’s eye, guide him,
howeVer, to the spot.

“ Dar am anoder matter sart’in,” thought he,
as he came up. “ Mr. Zebenezer Langdon is not
agwine to be able to s’arch here for de meat on-
loss he has some more light— Ki! dat coal am
warm!” he exclaimed, as he hopped off from the
fiery end of a fagot.

It required but a few moments to gather suffi-
cient fuel to replenish the fire. The hot coals
set the wood almost immediately into a roaring
blaze, which threw a warm, rich light through
the surrounding woods for many yards around.

Zeb was radiant with smiles. The cool night
and the constrained position had chilled him
considerably, and he gave the fire a few mo-
ments to infuse the comfortable warmth into
his person.

“Now I’ll jes’ warm up my hands like,” said
be, after a few minutes, “and den I’ll go to
work ;” and forthwith he held them toward the
them into each
other with great zest and enJoyment.

“Dar, I guess dat’ll do. Now I’ll make a
s‘arch— Gorra! whar did you come from?”

As the negro turned, he found himself stand
ing face to face with the two Shawnees who
had started in his pursuit but a short time
before! He realized that he was recaptured,
and made no resistanee. He was instantly re-
bound to the very tree from which he had
escaped, while the Indians sat upon the ground
very near him, firmly resolved that he should
not again have so favorable an opportunity to
leave them.

The negro was hardly secured, when the
other savages made their appearance with
Leland. He was also fastened to the identical
tree from which he had been loosened; and
there, sad, gloomy and despairing, he was left
until morning.

 

CHAPTER XI.
A FRIEND.

IN a short time the whole body of Indians
were awake and astir.’ The morning meal was
soon prepared and hastily eaten, and they set
forward. Leland found that his wound was
much better, and he traveled without difficulty.
The savages took a southerly direction, and
appeared to be journeviug toward the destina—
tion of those who held Rosalind.

Their march continued without interru tion
until noon, when they halted for a coup e of
hours for rest and food. For the first time,
George artook of some, and felt in a more
hopeful tame of mind. Zeb was as usual, and

 

continued quarreling with and abusing and
threatening every one within his reach.

“ If dis isn’trshameful, treating a pusson like
me in dis way. 1’s sorry dat I ever come wid
you. I spects ebery bone in my body is broke
in pieces.’

“ You said last night that they dare not touch
you.” interrupted Leland.

“Well, dat’s a subject (let you can’t under-
stand, and I haven’t time to ’splain it. Dey’rc
per-woken, anyhow, and dey’s agwine to cotch
dar pay some 0b dose 611 s.’ r

Consolcd with this reflection, Zeb kept steadily

upon his way, seemingly as hap as a person
could be when laboring under a 1 ht provoca-
tion. No further words assed etween him

and Leland for a considers le time. The latter
was busy with his own thoughts, and began to
feel the fatigucs of their long—continued jour-
ney. They had set out at an early hour, and
had halted only at noon. The traveling was
very difficult at times, often leading through
tangled underwood and swamps, where a
person’s weight bore him deep into the mire.

About the middle of the afternoon they paused
upon the banks of a stream of considerable size,
which was a tributary to the Big Sand .
Though broad, it was not deep, and could be
easily forded. The water flowed quite swiftly,
and being perfectly translucent, ‘the bottom
could be seen from either shore.

Here the Indians exhibited their usual cunnin
and foresight. During their journey, they he
proceeded in “ Indian file,” permitting their
prisoners, however, to walk after their usual
manner. The reason for their adopting thecau-
tion mentioned with themselves, was more from
habit than anything else.

One of the savages stepped into the water,
and, taking a few steps, was followed b an-
other, who placed his feet upon the stones the
tracks that he had used and made. Thus each v
one did until Leland and Zeb were driven in and
warned to do likewise. The former had no difli~
culty in obeving, but the latter, either through
mistake or design, made several provoking blun-
ders. He seemed to use his utmost endeavors to
step into the tracks of those before him, but in-
stead of succeeding, was sure to place his foot a
good distance from it: and losing his foothold
when about in the center of the stream, came
down with an awkward splash into the water.

“ Gorra!” he exclaimed. regaining his position,
“dat fish pulled awful.” r The savages nearest
cast threatening looks toward him, and he reach—
ed the shore without further mishap.

At about sundown the party came to a belt,
and a fire was started. Leland and Zeb found
themselves in the same condition as on the pro»
ceding night, with the exception that a closer
surveillance was kept upon their actions. George
par-took sparingly of supper, while Zeb’s appe-
tite was as insatiate as ever. A hard was sta-
tioned as soon as it was fully dar , and the In—
dians ap red disposed to amuse and enjoy
themselves until a late hour. one of their num-
her, with a hoarse, guttural “ Ugh!” approached
the negro.

“ You needn’t come here!” ejaculated Zeb, di-
vining his intention. The savage paid no atten-
tion to him, but continued approaching. Ead

!

..~2§»-‘. . ~  ~ g
a-“ ..--.. .A .. .

on

20

Kent, the Ranger.

 

the negro been free, he might have offered re-
sistance and occasioned considerable trouble; but
besides having his arms bound, his legs were
'oined at the ankles, and he was thus rendered
elpless. , ,

‘ Plenty wool,” said the savage, placing his
hand u n his head. He made no answer, but
glance furtively and suspiciously at him.
"Nice, good,” he added; then closing his hand,
gave a vigorous jerk.

“ Lord help me!” screamed Zeb, rolling over
in helpless agony. ‘

“ Poor fellow,” repeated the Indian, approach-
ing him and rubbing his back, after the manner
which a. celebrated horse-tamer advises. Then,
watching his op‘ ortunity, he seized another

uantity and pul ed it forth. To his surprise,
1; is elicited no remark from his victim, and he
re eated it.
his time he succeeded no better than be-
fore.

Zeb was lying upon his back and staring at his
tormentor in unspeakable fury. The Indian, still
determined upon amusement, again approached.
Zeb remained motionless until he stooped over
him; then bending his knees to his chin, he gath-
ered all his stren rth, and planted both feet in his
chest, throwing im a dozen feet. The savage
groaned and doubled up in his agony, and gasped
spas nodically for breath.

“Dar, how does dat set on your stummick?
Yahl yahl dat’s fun!"

Although this for the moment amused the
others yet it likewise excited their anger, and
there is no telling what the end wou d have
been, had not their attention been suddenly call—
'ed in another direction. This was occasioned by
the arrival of a stranger among them.

Leland gazed at the new—comer, and sawa tall,
powerfullyubuilt savage stalk boldly forward
toward the fire, and exchange salutations with
those seated around. All regarded him suspi-
ciously at first, yet his boldness and assurance
seemed to disarm them, and room was made for
him. The pipe was payed to him, and taking
it he smoked several minutes in silence, during
which time he seemed unconscious that tho (yo
.0! every one was bent upon him. Having fin-

ished, he turned and passed it to the one nearest
him, then gazing thoughtfully for a few mo-
ments in the fire. commenced a conversation
with the chief. He spoke their tongue as cor-
rectly and fluently as any of them, which served
to disarm them still more. He stated that he
had been out with a couple of Indians, scouring
the country for prey, when they were set upon
and pursued by two hunters, who at the first
shot killed his companion. He succeeded in ef-
fecting his escape after a hot pursuit of nearly a
day, and encountering a trail which he supposed
to be his friends’, he followed it up and cum]
that he was not mistaken,

0n hearing this recital, several of the savages
appeared to suspect that Kent and Leland were
the two to Whom he referred, and directed his
attention toward their captives. The savage
stared wonderingly toward them for a moment,
and slowly shook his head. He had never seen
either before.

,Although none of the Indians could show any

reason for suspecting their visitor, except his

 

strange arrival among them, still they were not
reckless and foolish enough to leave him to him-
self, or to permit him to de ui‘t. Besides the
two who were stationed at a. istance as senti-
nels, one remained awake to keep an eye 11 on
his movements. Yet this precaution was use 653
for, to all appearances, he slept as dee ly as any
of them, and was among the latest w o awoke
in the morning.

Leland fell asleep about midnight, and gained
a few hours of undisturbed rest. In the morning
he was considerably refreshed, and had it not
been for the awful doom that threatened him,
would have possessed a joyous fund of spirits.
His wound, which had been only an ugly flesh
one, had ceased to trouble him, and he experi-
enced no pain except from the ligatures that
bound him. As he increased in strength, these
were increased in number and tightness, until
llllS ltimbs swelled and pained him more than his

iur .

He marched steadin during the forenoon, and
at noon, as usual, the party came to a halt, and
a couple proceeded to bind Leland to a tree.
During the proceeding he broke the cords that
pained him so much, and they were replaced by
others. The latter, however, were much more
lax, and he felt greatly relieved when they were
placed upon him.

As soon as he was secured to the body of the
tree, the savage left him and rejoined his com-
panions. Leland closed his eyes as if to shut out
the terrible reality, and the dancing li hts that
flickered before him, together with the um that
filled his ears, told him that for a moment he
had succeeded. But he was soon recalled to a.
sense of his situation by the zip of a tomahawk
withina few inches of his head. Opening his
eyes, he soon comprehended the state of things.
The savages were amusing themselves by ascer—
taining who could send his tomahawk nearest
the body of their captive without touching him.
The ilrst weapon that had been sent had missed
his head, as we have said, by a few inches; but
the next was still closer, and Leland felt the wind
of it as it buried itself in the solid oak by his
chee . He again closed his eyes, and fervently
prayed that one of their hatcliots might sink in-
to his skull instead of the tree; yet there was not
much danger of such an occurrence; for the sav-
ages exercised perfect skill, and rarely failed of
sanding their weapons to the very point intend-
e

Leland opened his eyes as a tomahawk came
fearfully close to his forehead. He wished to
see who had hurled it. He soon saw that it was
the strange Indian, who was approaching to
withdraw it. It was buried deeper than the
others: and as the savage placed his hand upon
it, it required considerable of an effort to extri—
cate it. While doing so, Leland heard the fol~
lowing words whispered by the stranger:

“ Don’t be scart, George; it’s Kent Whitemnn
that has got his eye upon you.”

These words came near proving fatal to both.
They so startled Leland that he could not prevent
himself from betraying somewhat his emotion
and excitement. This was observed by a save 9
near at hand, who approached to satisfy himse f
of the cause. Leland, suspecting his motive, re-
peatel the action and accompanied it by a shud-

 

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[and Kent di

Kent. the Ranger.

.2!

 

der, as though the scene which was being en- ,

acted had overcome him. This satisfied the
wily Indian, who retreated and joined the
Others.

Hope was again awakened in Leland's breast
—painful hope that increased his doubts and
fears—bogey that drowned the torture that be-
set him— ego that sent the life-blood coursing
rapidly an hotly through his veins, and in-
creased the charms which life had held out to

m.

Leland was short] released from his unenvi-
able situation, and eb put in his place. The
negro made no threats or declaration, but sub-
mitted to the trying ordeal without a word.
The scenes through which he had passed had
evidently had some etfeet upon him. He did
not tremble in the least, but gazed unflinching-
ly at the tomahawks, as they came revolving
and seemingly directed toward his head, and
struck beside him.

Finding that they had about lost their power
over their captives, the Indians released Zeb,
and permitted him and his master to lie down
upon the ground.

Leland could not prevent his gaze from wan—
derin toward Kent now and then, yet their
eyes ‘d not meet. The latter betrayed no in-
terest whatever in either of the captives, and
seemed as indifferent to their fate as any of the
others.

The negro had no suspicion of the true state
of things, and perhaps it was the best he had
not. He mi ht have unwittingly betrayed it,
not choose to warn him. The fact
was, it could have done him but little good at
an rate; for Kent had determined to rescue
Le and, if possible and leave. Zeb for the pre—
sentto shift for himself. The white man was
the first upon whom they would wreak their
vengeance, and aside from the greater estima-
tion in which life was held from the. very na—
ture of the case, he required the first attention.

 

CHAPTER XII.
ESCAPE.

Tim hunter in the course of the day had
ained a full knowledge of the intention of the

dians in regard to their ca tives. Leland
waste suffer death at the sta e at an early
period, while the negro was to be reserved until
zome indefinite time in the future, to be tor-
ured.

The hunter had completely succeeded in dis-
arming his enemies of every suspicion. He had
employed himself, as we have seen, in throwing
his tomuhawk at Leland; and learning throu h

v acasual remark that he was to be put to t e

torture, he expressed his opinion strongly in
favor of it, urging them at the samehtime todo
it as soon as possible, He made himself per—

fectly at home, and was so free among them,

that a stranger would have considered him one
of the leadin characters.

80 perfec y had Kent disscmbled. that at
night. unexpectedly to himself, he was chosen
as one to watch Leland. The negro was firmly
fastened to a tree and left to himself. while
George-was to sleep between two savages.

 

At supper-time Kent brought him a good-
sized piece of well-cooked meat, and gave him
to understand that he was to eat it at all events.
Leland took it Without daring to meet his bene—
factor’s eye, and ate all that was possible. The
negro received his meal from the same hand
without the remotest suspicion that a friend
was so near him, and even went so far as to in—
sult him as much as was in his power, for not
bringing him a larger quantity of food.

Now that Leland knew assistance was at
hand, he experienced a desire to converse with
the negro, and thus help to pass away time,
which had grown intolerably monotonous.
Turning to the old slave, he resumed:

“ That was a savage-looking individual that
brought us our meal.”

This was said in order to quell any suspicion
0r doubt that might have entered his head.

“Dat he is; but he‘d better keep away from
me, it he doesn’t want his picter sp’iled,” return-
ed the negro.

“ What were you abusing him for, a few
minutes ago, when he brought your food?”

“ 'Well, you see, he’s afraid I’s a—gwine to hurt
him, and begun tobeg off. It makes me so mad
to see any fellcr afraid (let I let out on him, and
he took himself off in a mighty big hurry.”

“ I guess that he will not trouble you further
for the present,” said Leland, with that air of
assurance which one feels for the safety of an-
other when his own case is free from danger.

“Don’t know ’bout dat, but I’d like tohavo
’em tr .”

“Well, your wish is about to be gratified,”
151?“). Leland, as he noticed a savage approaching

m.

“Gorra don’t come herel" said Zeb, staring
at him. The savage did not heed his warning,
however, but continued to advance, and made a

motion as if to strike him. The black men '

closed his eyes, bent his head toward him and
drew his face in all manner of furious contor-
tions.
provoking him further.

Leland was allowed to remain in his position
until the savages stretched themselves out to
rest. They remained up later than usual, smok-
ing and recounting their deeds, and boasting of
the exploits they intended to accom lish. Kent
narrated some marvelous stories, w ich eatly
excited their wonder and admiration of him.

The time thus occupied seemed interminable
to Leland, who was in a fever of excitement and
anxiety; but at last Kent stretched himself he-
side him, while the other watch did the same
upon the opposite side.

Still it would probably be hours before any
thing could be done, and Leland was compellcd
to suffer the most intense and anxious impa-
tience for along time. His thoughts prevented
him from feeling the least desire to slee , and he

could only worry and writhe in his help 958 posi- -

tion. —

Kent, in arranging a place for himself beside
him. bent his head to his ear and breathed:

“ Pretend to sleep.”

Although this was said in less than a whisper
Leland heard the words distinctly, and prepared
to follow the warning. Soon his heavy, regular

breathing would hava led any one into the  I '

The savage, however, left him without.

  

, might reach them. He knew this and made the

‘ certain and instant death upon them.

v , Life now hung upon a thread.

28

 

Kent, the Ranger.

 

that a heavy sleep was upon him. Not the
slightest voluntary motion was made, and Kent
remarked to his brother sentinel that their cap—
tive must beunconscious of the doom that await-
ed him.
A cord was fastened to Leland’s wrist; and
then to Kent’s arm, so that the slightest move-
ment upon the part of the former would disturb
and awake the latter should he fall asleep. The
other watch, noticing this, failed to adopt the
same precaution.
For a few more minutes the savage hold a
conversation with Kent; but in the course of a
half—hour the answers of the latter began to grow
brief and indistinct, and finally ceased alto-
gether; then he began to breathe more slowly
and heavil , and the savage at last believed that
both guar and prisoner were sound asleep.
When lying upon the earth at night, with 'no
one with whom a conversation can be held, and
With nothing but the will to combat the ap—
proach of sleep, the person is almost sure to sue-
cumb sooner or later. At any rate, such was
the case with the savage in question, and scarce
an hour had elapsed since he had ceased speak-
ing when he was as unconscious of the state of
iélgngs around as though he had never been
In.

Now was the time to commence operations;
the critical moment had arrived, and ent com-
menced the work upon which probably more
than one life do ended.

First he with row his knife from his belt. and
severed the cord that bound him to Leland.
Then as cautiously, silontl and quickly. cut the
thong that held his feet. his was the first inti-
mation Leland had that his friend was at work.

Leland’s hands, as we have said, were bound
behind; consequently it was necessar that he
should turn upon his side in order t at Kent

movement; but his excitement and a itation
were so great that he turned too far, an in re-
covering himself, awoke the savage. His res—
ence of mind and Kent’s cunning saved im.
He groaned deeply and muttered to himself,
while the hunter started 11 as though he had
just awoke, and gazed won eringly at him.

“ I wish he’d keep still,” said he, in the Indian
tongue, lying down a ain. This satisfied the
other, who fell back an closed his eyes.

For an hour neither stirred. At the end of
that time, Kent raised his head and gazed cau-
tiously around upon the circle of sleeping sav-
ages. Zeb was at a short distance. resting as

'calmly as an infant upon its mother’s breast.
The one beside Leland had again passed off to
the land of dreams; yet an Indian never sleeps
soundly, and the slightest mishap upon the part
of those who were awake and expecting to
move might arouse tho whole body and bring
It would
not do to awaken the sleeping sentinel again.

Kent reached beneath Leland and cut the
cord. He was now free and at liberty to move.
,_ “,Be careful!” whispered the hunter, as he as-
sisted him to his feet. Leland could not su
gross his agitation, yet he used all the caution in

is power. But cautious as they both were, the

upon him, and the instant be stirred, sprun
li {e a. panther t0vrard him. One hand clutche
his mouth his knee pressed heavily upon his
breast, and Whipping out his knife, he forced it
to the hilt in his bodly. Nothing but the dull,
fleshy sound, as it sun into the seat of life, was
heard. The bloody stream silently followed its
withdrawal, there were several spasmodic strug-
gles, and the savage straightened out in death.

Kent arose from the body and motioned to
Leland to follow him. Not another being was
awake, and tremblineg he followed over their
prostrate, sleeping forms. . They were just pass-
ing into the thick surrounding darkness, when
the negro, through some means, awoke.

“ Gorra,” he shouted, “ isn’t you gwine to
help this pusson too?”

“ Cuss that nigger,” muttered the hunter.
“ Keep close to me and use your pegs, fur a long
run‘s before us.” ,

Both darted away together, as the wild yells
told them that their escape was discovered.
Those horrid, unearthly whoops of which no
idea can be had unless they be heard set Le-
land’s blood on fire. In a moment the whole
forest seemed swarming with their enemies and
the yells of many were fearfully near. ent
could distance any of them when alone, yet the

resence of Leland retarded him somewhat.
Flowevor, by taking the latter’s hand, they both
passed over the ground with great swiftness,
and neither had much fear of being over~
taken.

On, on plunged the pursued, until many‘ a
mile had been passed; still they halted not. he
voices and answering shouts of the save es could
be heard upon every side, and they ha yet by
no means reached a place of safety. Now some
limb brushed in Leland’s face, or he stumbled
over some fallen tree, and then, without a mur-
mur, arose and pursued his way. On, on they
hurried, until the dispersing darkness told them
that the day was not far distant.

“I can travel no further,” said Leland, sink-
ing to the earth.

“ Give out?” ueried Kent.

“I believe I ave. This is a terrible chase;

but the prospect of a reca ture and death can-

not oad me further, until have rested.”

“ \ a1, no mistake we have trumped some;

but Lord save you, this is just fun for me.”

“ Do you not think that they will abandon

pursuit?”

“ No danger of that. As soon as ’tis light

they’ll pounce upon our trail, and foller it until

it’s lost or we are cotched.”

“ thich must not be."

“ Wal, ’r’aps if they get their claws on you

you won] n’t feel very comfortable. "

But they had passed through the most trying

ordeals, and had now only to make their way as

best they could. Kent had some idea of the na-

ture of the ground, and they progressed with

greater ease and rapidity after a short rest.

b “Here we are," said the hunter, coming to a
alt.

Leland gazed ahead, and saw a broad sheet of

water which he knew must be the Ohio.

“And now.” nddnd Kent. “ we’ve got to hunt

 

savage nearest them awoke. Kent had his eye

up Leslie. He can’t be far off, and I’m in hopes
we’ll, stumble upon him afore day. Just squat

 

    
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
    
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
    
   
  
 
  
    
     
    

.  -ik v

 

Kent, the Ranger. 23

 

and make yourself miserable, while I take a run
up and down the bank.”

Leland obeyed him, and in a moment was left
alone, shivering in the chill night air and feel—
in miserable indeed in his oner situation.

11 the course of tin hour Kent returned with
the information that he had iound the boat
about half a. mile up, but that Leslie v. as not in
it. Both started, and, after stumbling over
bushes loaded with water, and sinking into the
miry shore, and wading iii the river by turns,
they came upon it, pulled high up on the bank.
It was becoming lig itcr every moment, and as
Kent knew that as soon as possible their trail
would be followed, he was unwilling to brook
the slightest delay.

“ As soon as one is out the scrape another gets
in. Here you have got clear, and now he must
go and make afool of himself. If he’s got taken,
that’s the meanest triek yet.”

“Perhaps he is not far off,” said Leland,
stepping in the boat and searching it. “ He is
not here, certainly,” he added, after looking
over it.

“ I’ll wait a while, and then we must look out
for ourselves. No use of losin our own hair in
trviii’ to help him ” rejoined ent.

0th took the mat, and turning it over so
as to free it from water, shoved it out from the
beach.

“ Halloa, Leslie! If you’re about, just say so;
and if you ain’t, let us know!” shouted Kent, in
aloud voice.

A silence of a few moments followed, when be
repeated the call. To the surprise of both it was
answered.

“ That on, Kent?” came a voice, as if its
owner ha just waked.

“ Will, I rather fiess so; and it’s in" private
opinion that you’d tter tumble yourself in here
in short order,” returned Kent.

A dark form arose to all appearances from
the ground, and pitching awkwardly forward,
exclaimed:

“ You don’t suppose a fellow would be in the
boat through all that ruin, do you? Oh, is

, Leland there?” he asked, pausmg and collecting

his senses.

“Nol Poor fellow’s scalped and burned at
the stake. Had to kill nine of them to save my
own hair.” _ I

Leslie made no reply, but stepped Silently into
the boat. Making his way toward the stern, he
encountered the very person of whom he had
been speakivnvgi I .

“ HeyI o is this?" he exclaimed, starting

back.

K“A dead red-skin that I’cotehed,” answered
ent.

“ Leland, sure as I live!” said Leslie, joyously
catching his hand.

For a few moments they heeded not the
mirth of Kent at his joke, in their mutual
congratulations. Then they turned, and heard
him say:

“ W at a couple of fools l”

The appreciated his rough kindness too well
to ma e any reply. The boat was out in the
river. and under the long. powerful Impulses
that the hunter gave it, was moving rapidly
downward.

 

. CHAPTER XIII.
THE CAPTIVE.

LELAND and Leslie conversed and recounted
to each other their adventures until those were
exhausted, when they endeavored to keep off
the chill by taking turns at the cars. Morning
at length be an to appear. In a short time
darkness lif from the water, and the bright
rays of the morning sun pierced the foliage of
the forest and rested upon the stream.

About the middle of the forenoon, Kent ran in
under the bank and sprung ashore. The day"
was quite warm, and it was a pleasure for the
three to step upon the land and to stretch them—
selves in the genial sunshine. They had, how-
ever, hulted for consultation, and to determine
pppln the plan to pursue in order to rescue Rosae
in

“ One more job finished and we’ll rest awhile,”
said Kent.

“And as we have depended upon and been
guided and saved by your wisdom,” said Leslie, '
“ of course, in this most important case your ad—
vice must be followed."

“ Let’s hear what you chaps have got to say
first, ’cause p’rhaps you might accidentally say
somethin’ smart without knowin’ it. I’ll decide
it after we all get through.”

“ What seems to me the most feasible is this,”
commenced Leland. “ Let all three of us follow
the savages which have taken my sister, and af-
ter reaching their vicinity, by stratagem recov—
er her. If it be impossible to do it in this way,
make a bold dash and venture among them, and
take her at all events.” .

“ Killin’ first ’bout one hundred Injuns, just to ,
get ’em out the we , you know,” said Kent with
mock gravity. “ ome. Leslie, it’s our turn;
and beiu’ you’re so much interested, Iy’spects to
hear somethin’ a“ in] grand.”

Leslie, to save his life, could not prevent a
blush at this allusion. As might be expected he
had thought of more than one plan, long before
asked for it, and replied withdut hesitation:

“ What I say is rescue her at all events. as
George has said. bf course, it is out of the ques—
tion to do it by force, and we must outwit the
savages. This I think possible, for the good
reason that it has been so often done. All thi cc
of us, or perha . 5, what would be better, you and
myself can to low them up and retake h( 1'.
George, in his present state, could do but little to
aid us, and in all probability, will endanger the
satet of all concerned.” ,

“ agrees with you there; and alittle further;
Mr. Leslie ‘ in his present state ’ would do but little
to aid us, and in all probability, endanger the
safety of all concerned.”

“ There is no need of jesting, Kent. You ‘ i
know that it would be the best for on to have a
companion, and who can you take ut me?” '

“ Don’t know but what it would. Now, s’posen
an old teller that don’t know nothin’ says some.
thin’?” said Kent, geod-humoredly.

“ Don’t know but what it would,” he re cat.
ed. “ S’posen, it 1’s in your case, I’d fee the
same; but you see, there's somethin’ else to think
of. S‘posen we ets her, we hain’t got any
place to stick our eads in, and may be hunted
for ever after by the skunks. Now as Soon as
convenient, we‘ll paddle down to the place

 

 

 

 

'sisted of logs placed

24 Kent. the Ranger.

 

where Leland’s house was burned, and drop him
there; fur it won‘t do to take you ’long, George.
Leslie understands the 1njins better than you,
and it would just git us all into a muss, and like
enough, make ’em knock her on the head, to save
trouble. We’ll take you up to your farm ’Cause
that’ll be a place we can’t miss very well; and if
there’s a shed or any thing left, you can stow
yourself away till we gets )ack. I’ll take Leslie
along, for s’pose he won’t stay, and I’ve thought
of :1. Ian that’ll take him to work with. There,
you ave my plan.”

“ Which you must admit, i : the one that must
be followed," said Leslie, turning toward Le-
land.

“‘I su pose," he returned, “that your advice
should be taken, although I confess that I had
hoped to accompany you; but as I said, Kent
knows best, and the only proper course is to
obey him.”

“ Well, let us not wait, now that we have de-

’ciderl what to do,” said Leslicfrising to his feet.

A ain the boat was shoved out, and shot on—
wa . Nothing worthy of mention occurred on
the way. The next day, at noon, they reached
their destination. Leland’s heart sunk within
him, as he gazed up from the river and saw,
where once his home had been, nothing but black
and charred ruins. A portion of what had once
been used as the burn remained entire, having es-
caped the flames.

‘ This is ‘ust the thing,” said Kent, approach-
ing it. “ c’ll fix it up a little, add I’d advise
you t? go to sleep, and stay so until we get

ack.

’The three set vigorously to work, and inashort
time they had made it uits comfortable. It con-
rmly and compactly to-
gether, and securediso that a. Single person well
armed could offer effectual resistance to a. for-
midable enemy. Being in a sort of clearing, it
had the additional advantage of affording its in-
habitant such a. view that he could not be ap-
proached b any person without their being ob-
served, an thus giving him time to prepare for
them.

“There!” said the hunter, retreating a short
distance and aziug at it. “ I wouldn’t ax a
better place. on mirrht bring down a hundred

:1 Injins, and give me pfiaiity powder and ball, I’d

have the best fun in creation.”

“ Suppose they come upon all sides?” suggest-
ed Leland.

“ All on got to do is to take the stock of! your

' gun an shoot out of both ends of the barrel.”

“ on can 0 now as soon as you please; but
first tell me w at time to expect you back.”
Kent folded both arms over the muzzle of his
gun, and shutting one eye, remained for a. few
moments buried in earnest thought. Then he
replied:
. ‘ tllietween five and eight days; probably on the
sixt .
“ All ready?” queried Leslie.
, “All ready ” returned Kent.
' Both bade fieland good-by, and after a few un-

important words, startedl upon their journey.

 

For a considerable time we have left Rosalind

, to herself, and with the reader’s permission we

will now return. to her;

 

The Indians which held her, as was stated,
journeyed far into the interior of Kentucky be«
fore making a final halt. Here thev reached the
village or headquarters of their tribe, and gave
beg to understand that her journey was at an
en . .

The village numbered several hundred, and
considering hcr defenseless position the savages
allowed her considerable liberty. «mm the first,
however, she was made a slave and a drudge,
and compelled to toil with the hard squaws of
their tribe, bearing their insults an sometimes
even their blows. The hope and prospect of a
speedy relief and deliverance enabled her to bear
this without murmuring. She had not much
fear of death, as she judged by their actions that
fheir intention was to make her a prisoner for

ife.

There is nothing in the animal creation but
which is affected by kindness and obedience, and
there is no race upon which it makes a more
ready impression than the American. Rosalind’s
continual gentleness and pleasing manner melt-
ed the hearts of many of the warriors, and more
than one rude epithet was restrained by the meek
loveliness of her face.

Resalind often wondered who the person could
be that had interrupted her conversation with
Zeb upon the first night of her captivity. One
day she was gratified with the knowledge. A
savage approached her and commenced a. con-
versation:

“ How is the pale-faced maiden?”

She started at hearing her tongues ken so
well, and lookinv‘ up recognized a mi die-aged
Indian, that ha frequently visited her house
during her father’s life. She replied:

“Very well.”

The savage was uneasy, and Waited a few mo
ments for her to speak further, but as she evinced
no disposition to do so, he at len th added:

“ Does the maiden remember equanon?”

“ She does,” she returned. looking him steadily
in the face. “She remembers him as one who
received kindness both from her father’s hand
and her own. and as one who shows his grati~
tude by treacherously burning her home, and
carrying her into captivity. Yes, chuanon,”
she continued, bursting into tears at the remem—
brance of the event, ‘ she remembers you and
can never forget your conduct.”

“ Fe uanon saved your life," he returned,
feeling y. ‘

“And gave me a. fate that is worse.”

“He went with his brothers wh en they burned
your home, but he did not help. He went to
save your life, and did do it. When the toma-
hawk was lifted over your head, he caught the
arm and turned it aside. When your blood was
called for, Pequanon swore that it sh ould not be
had, and he has kept his word. Pequanon never
forgets kindness, and will die for the maiden
that clothed and fed him.”

Rosalind felt her heart moved with pity toward
the poor untutorod savage who had thus really
been grateful, and no doubt had done all in his
power for her good. She recalled many instances
where she believed that he was the cause of the
lenity upon the part of the captors, and where it
seemed that some one had shown an interest in

, her welfare: She informed him that she believed

,4; ~,

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_ of every thing around her.

he had done her all the good that was in his
wer, and expressed her heartfelt thanks for it.
‘he Indian seemed gratified beyond measure,
and after further conversation took his depart—
ure, promismg eternal fidelity to her.

This circumstance, though trivial in itself, had
a great influence upon Rosalind. It gave her a
knowled e of the true sition in which she
stood. Elthough she dou ted not but that she
had friends amon the savage beings around
her, yet she well new that there were many
deadly enemies, who, when an opportunity off-
ered, would not hesitate to take her life.

The lodge in which she slept was that of the
chief. Besides his own wife several squaws re-
mained in it during the night. A young woman,
her most bitter and hateful enemy, slept beside
Rosalind most of the time, and the slightest
movement on the part of the latter was sure
to occasion some insulting word or command
from her. She bore this without a word hoping
each night that it was the last she was to spen
in this manner.

One night she suddenl awoke toa full state
of consciousness—so su denly that it startled
and alarmed her. It seemed as though some-
thing had awakened her, and yet she could recall
nothing. She turned her head and gazed at her
companion, but she, to all appearances, was
sound asleep, and could not have been the cause.
She experienced no more of drowsiness or inclin-
ation to sleep, but concluded tofeign it in the
hope of satisfying herself of any danger that
mi ht be lurkin near her.

he half-closed; her eyes. y t kept a close watch
11 a moment there
wasarustling upon the outside; the next instant
the point of knife protruded through a gap in the
skin of the lodge, and two eyes were seen gleam-
ing like a tiger’s; then the hand that held the
ignite was thrust forward, and it was held over

er.

. osalind tried toqu a scream, but could not
utter a sound. She seemed frozen with terror,
and only made a spasmodic movement that
awoke her companion. As soon as the latter
moved, the hand was withdrawn and the rent
closed of its own accord.

“ Oh 1” she murmured, “did you see it?”

Her com nion, more angered on account of
being awa ened from her sleep, struck her a.
blow and commanded silence: but Rosalind
could not remain in her position, and arising
and stepping softly over the sleeping form he-
side her, seated herself in the center of the lodge.
Here she remained until morning, when she
made the inmates understand the nature of her
nocturnal fright. All treated it lightly, and she
began to entertain a suspicion that they knew
more of it than she did herself.

In the course of the day she narrated the
circumstance to Pequanon, showing him also
the aperture that had been mademthe lod 9.

He examined it carefully, and appeared troub ed .

about it. The marks of a person’s knee and
moccasin could be seen upon the soft earth. and
there was no doubt that her life had been sought.
Pequanon informed her of something that sur-
prised and alarmed her as much as this. Several
of the warriors, since her first a pearance
. among them, had shown a desire to obliam Rosa-

5

~

 

=Kent. the flanges. 25

lind for a wife; and although it ins y seem
strange that she herself was not aware of the
fact, equanon had noticed it from the com-
mencement, and now for the first time warned
her of it. One who suspected that he should be
disappointed, had taken the means toprocure
the revenge that we have mentioned. Ever
after this Pequanon remained in the lodge dur-
ing the night, and Rosalind was careful to keep
at a safe distance from the sides of it.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE; RESCUE.

ROSALIND was a good distance from the
Ohio, and consequently a long way was to he
traveled by Kent and Leslie. During the first
night of their journey, a bright moon favored
them, and they continued on without halt”
until morning. ri‘he hunter struck the trail at
an early hour in the day, and the two continued
their pursuit with renewed ardor until the sun _
was high in the heavens, when they halted for ~

rest.

When they finally halted, it was on the banks
of Big Sandy, at the point where the West Fork ,
unites with it. Here they diécovered signs of
the encampment of a, la go body of Indians.
Leslie felt hope increase, and was impatient to
pursue their way. They judge it best—or rather
Kent judged it best— »to remain in their present
position, and follow the trail only during the

ay.

The hunter left Leslie, who in order to scare}!
for game, as they both were exceedingly hungry.
He returned in a short time, to the surprise of
Leslie, who had not hoard the report of his gun.
Kent informed him that he had slain it without
firing a shot, as he dared not to risk one. A fire
was started, it being concealed by the river-
bank as much as possible, and their food was
cooked. This finished. the fire was extinguished
and they partook of the repast.

A moon as bright as that of the preceding
night arose, and the clcar river, glistening in
the moonlight like liquid silver, was visible for
a great distance. Leslie was soon asleep, but
Kent lay awake the greater part of the night,
revolving in his mind the best course to pur—
sue in regard to canturin Rosalind. At last
he hit upon the plan, an having fully deter-
lmined what to do, he fell into a peaceful slum-

r
to his feet as soon as it was fairly lig

“ I’d adviscd you to put a stopper on that jaw
of yourn, if you don’t want the whole pack
down here in a tuinklin’,” quickly rctorted the .
hunter, slowly coming to the sitting posture.

“Why, what’s the matter, Kent?”

“ Oh, nothin’: only there’s a few Injins squat-
ted over on t’other shore.” -

“ .Ah! well, they can’t see us, at any rate, for
a thick fog has gathered during the night and is
resting upon the river.”

“ Wal, they can hear you easy ’nough, ’speci- ‘
ally if you go on that way.”

“ Come, come, Kent, don’tbe cross. ' I‘ll wager
that they haven’t heard me, and I promise that
they shall not.” ,, ,

The two shouldered their rifles, and, as the

mist was slowly rising from the riverfagain ‘, '

- 

“.Now to the rescue,” said Leslie,hspringing
t .. ‘

\

 

 

86

commenced their journey. The trail was now
easily discovered, and followed Without diffi—
culty. It led most 01’ the time along the bank
of the river, and its distinctness showed that the
savages had no fear or cared little for pursuit.
Instead of proceeding in Indian file, as they had
at first, they traveled promiscuously and care-
lessly, and their number (would be easily made
out by their footsteps. During the course, of
the day Kent gave the exact number to Leslie,
and the precise time that they had journeyed
over the round.

Leslie, in the ardor of his hopes, still had a
fear that they might not really be upon the
track of Rosalind. Might not some other party
be misleading them? Was it possible that
the party had subdivided, and the one that hold
kw taken an entirely different course? The
probability of error prevented him from ex-
periencng the joyous hopefulncss that he might
rive Otherwise felt. This worried and caused
him so much anxiety, that he expressed his fears
to Kent.

“ Don’t know but what we are,” returned the
hunter, composedly.

“ Do you thin‘lc that we are?” asked Leslie,
earnestly.

“ Can't say; 1’11 "0 back if you want to.”

“ Hcighl what’s that?”

He sprung forward and caught a shred flut-
tering from a bush.

“ That’s it! that’s itl” he shouted, fairly leap—
ing With joy.

“That’s what?” asked the hunter, seemingly
disgusted at this dis )lay of childlike emotion.

“ Why. a piece olf 1cr dross, sure enough,” 1e
sponded Leslie.

Here the corners of Kent’s mouth gave a
downward twitch, and turning his head so as
 glance at Leslie, a demon-Liming,r grunt escaped

nn.
“She did it on purpose to guide us,” added
Leslie. not bee ling him.
Kent’s month jerked forward, and a loud
gulfow was given.
“ Let us hurry.” said Leslie, starting forward.
“ I allow,” comm FHUOII the hunter, unable to
restrain himself further, “ that if you play
, many more such capers you‘ll go alone. If ,the
sight of her dress set; you in such fits, what do
you s’pose’ll’come of you when you set your
eyes on her? and I daren’t think of the con-
so'nionnos of once gelatin” your arms around her.
VV'iewl'”

“ You must pardon my feeling, Kent; but the
when assurance that we were not mistaken
or proceeding by guess, completely overcame
me.

“ Somethin' queer came over you, no mistake.”

“ Well, if you don’t like to see it, Iwill try
and repress it in future.”

“ 1 hope you will when I’m about.”

The two hurried on without further conver-
sation for some time. At noon they madoa
shorter halt than usual, as Kent informed Lns-
lie that, by pressing forward, they could gain
the region of the savages by nightfall. As the,
afternoon advanced, the experienced eye of the
hunter began to detect unmistakable signs of
the presenm‘ of Indians.

' Leslie could not repress his agitation as he

 

Kent, the Ranger.

realized that every minute was bringing him
nearer and neurcrto the object of his desires.
Fear and hope lillo‘l him, and he was alternate-
ly gladdened by the one and tormented by the
other.

He did not notice that Kent had changed his
direction, and was proceeding more cautiously
than before; he only knew that he was follow-
ing closely in his footsteps, and relying entirely
upon his guidance.

All at once the hunter came to a stop, and
laid his hand upon Leslie’s arm. He looked up,
and there, before him, was the Indian village.
Kr nt had conducted him to a sort of rising
ground, which afforded them acomplcte View of
it, while the forest gave them an elrcctua-l con-
cealment.

“ Is this the place?” asked he, in astonishment.

“ This is the place,” answered the rang. er.

Leslie feasted his eyes a longr tnno upon the
scene before he withdrew his gaze. Every Wig—
wam was visible, and the squaws and children
could be seen passing to and fro through the
sort of street or highway. Many of the war-
riors were gathered in groups, and reclined upon
the ground, lazily chatting; while their fur bet-
ter halves were patiently toiling and drudging
at the most dillirult kim s of work.

Leslie scanned each form that came under his
eye, in th.‘ hope of distinguishing (me; but he
was disappointed, and compelled to see the night
closely settle over the village without obtaining
a glimpse of her. “ After all ” he thought. “ she
may not be there, and I am doomed to be frus-
trated at last.” But again hope whispered in
his ear, and rendered him impatient for the hour
when his fate must be decided.

The moon arose at about midni ht, conse-
quently all that was to be done must 0 done be»
fore that time. As soon as it had become fair]
dark, so that Leslie was unable to distinguis
anything in the village, he seated himself beside
Kent to ascertain his intentions.

“The time,” said he, “has arrove when we
must commence business, and I allow that we
must be at it soon. Here’s your part. You are
to stay here till I come back. I am goin‘ down
into ihcir nest to hunt her up, and when I come
back you’ll know whether she’s to be got or not.
Keep quiet, and don’t stir from this spot till I
give you the order. Remember, if we‘re oin’
to do anythin’, you must do as I tell you. ake
cure of yoursel .”

With these words the hunter departed—de-
artnd so silently and stealthily, that Leslie
inrdly comprehended that he was gone.

Kent, while it was yet light, had taken a sur-
vey of the village, and viewed it, too, with a
scout's eye. He had distinguished the chief‘s
lodge Rom the others, and rightly conjectured
that this would be, the most likelyto contain
Rosalind. Accordingly, he determined to direct
his footsteps toward it, before looking in any
other direction. This was situated in the center.
He was. consequently, exposed to greater danger
in reaching it; yet he placed great reliance noon
his disguise, which be yet assumed, and deter-
mined to' venture within the village in a short
time.

He stood at the extreme end, and now and
then could discern a shadowy form passingsiq

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Kent, the Ranger.

lently before him, or perhaps, the voice of some
warrior or squaw; but soon these sights and
sounds ceased, and he commenced moving for-
ward. Not a savage was encountered until he
stood before the lodge for which he was seeking.
He had now reached the point where his most
subtle powers of cunnin were called into requi-
sition, yet thought not 0 hesitating.

Standin a second in front of the lodge, he
glanced a out him, but not a form was to be
seen. Had he been observed, he must have been
taken for an Indian, and attracted no further
notice. Kent being certain that his way was
clear, sunk to the earth, and lying upon his face
worked himself slowly and cautiously toward
the lodge. He seemed to glide )rcciscly like a
serpent, so easy and silent were is motions. In
a moment he was beside it, and, as he believed,
within ten feet of the object of his search. A
dim light was burning. By its light he hoped to
satisfy himself shortly of the truth of his con-
jectures. Running the keen point of his knife
along the skin that formed the lodge, he had
pierced it enough to admit his gaze, when the
iuht was suddenly extinguished. a

or a. moment the hunter’s calculations were
at fault. He had not counted upon this, but had
hoped to gain a view of the interior while the
light was burning. He felt barely able to re-
press his disappointment, as he was again com-
Eelledto devise some other plan. For once he
kad been frustrated in his design, and he felt it

eerily.

But he determined to risk a look at all haz—
ards. The aperture was com )loted; Kent raised
his head and peered in—aiid etraycd himself.

— Patuanon was at his place in the inside as usual,
watc

ing in the nobleuess of his soul, the life of
Rosalind. His quick ear detected the noise,
slight as it was, occasioned by Kent’s labor.
The latter supposing the inmates of the lodge
would be slumbering, ho Ad for an opportunity
to do what he wished. ut Pequanon was on
the alert, and detected him at work. When
his face was placed at the opening, it was
brought between the sky and the darkness of
the lodge, and the Indian plainly observed the
outlines of his face. His first impulse was to
seize a rifle and shoot the intruder instantly,
for he believed that it was the one who sought
the life of Rosalind; but checking himself he
arose and passed out noiselessly, determined to
satisfy himself before action.
Two consummate hunters were now maneuv‘
ering against each other. The movements of
both with respect to themselves were as much

_ at fault as though they were inexperienced

youngsters. The noise of Pequanon was so
slight that it failed to awake either Rosalind or
any of the inmates; yet Kent heard it distinctly,
and crouched down upon the ground and listen-
ed. In an instant he caught the step upon the
outside. He knew that he could spring to his
feet and easily make his escape; but in doing
so, he would raise an alarm, and thus effectually
Eeveut any thing of use being done bv himself.
e therefore withdrew some ten or fifteen foot,
and trusted that the Indian would not scorch
further; but he was mistaken. Pequanon was
determined to satisfy himself in regard to Rose-
’s secret enemy; and espying the shadowy

.

 

2‘?

form gliding along from him, he sprung toward
it, hoping and expecting that it might leap to
its feet. 7 , ,

The form leaped to its feet in a manner‘ihat
he little suspected. Kent saw that an en-
counter was unavoidable when, concentrating
his strength, he bounded like a. panther toward
the savage, hearing him to the earth with his
iron hand clutching his throat. l’equanon
struggled, but was powerless, and could not
make a sound above a painful gurgle. Kent
whipped out his knife, and had just aimed at
his breast, when the savage found voice to
speak a few words.

“ Hold! you strike the White man’s friend i”

The excellent English startled Kent, and he
relaxed his hold.

“ Who are you?” he demanded.

“ Pequanon, the white man’s friend.”

“What did you come nosin7 out here fur
then?”

Kent’s knees were upon the arms of the
Indian, while he was seated upon his breast.
The hunter loosed his grasp.

“The pale»faced maiden.
to save her.”

“Wal, see here, old red-skin, I’m after her.
You’s sayin’ as how you’s her friend. Mind to
help?”

He answered in the affirmative.

“ Wal, I’ll let you up, pervidin7 you’ll go and
bring her out. What you so i”

“ Is it her friends that wish her?”

“ You’ve hit it there. Goin’ to help?”

“chiianon will lay his life down for the
captive.”

‘ I’ll let you up then, and give you two minutes
to trot her out. If you undertake to come any
of your tricks over me, I’ll blow your brains
out. ‘

Kent permitted Pequanon to arise, who de—
parted silently for the lodge without giving
a reply to his remark.

The hunter was not to be deceived by any
artifice of the savage, and to guard against
treachery, withdrew still further from the
lodge. He doubted very much whether the
Indian would endeavor to assist at all, but he
had done the best he could under the circum-
stances. v

In a moment his doubts were put to flight b
the reappearance of the noble‘lndian, wit
Rosalind. As cool and collected as was the
hunter, he could not repress a joyous start as he
gazed upon her form.

“That’s the tu’st Injin, accordin’ to my
opine,” he muttered to himself, “that ever was
a man.”

Rosalind, all trembling eagerness and anxiet ,
on coming up to Kent. seemed unable to speaz.
The hunter noticed her action and forbore
speaking, making a motion, as an apology, for
silence. For a second the trio remained motion-
lnss and undetermined what course to pursue.
chuunon noticed this and started toward the
river. ’

“Hold on. cap’nl” said Kent; “there’s an-
othnr chap that come with me."

The hunter now took the lead; and leaving
thorn hopefully pursuing their way, let us
glance at Leslie until they arrive. »

Pequanon wished

I

/

 

e

 Rent. the Ringer;

 

Chafing, fretting, hoping, fearing and doubt-
ing sat Leslie, impatiently awaiting the appear-
anoe'of Kent. The falling of a leaf, or rustling
of the branches under some light breeze startled
him; and when a night bird, that haul been rest-
ing above him gave utterance to its unearthly
boot, and swooped past, its voice he mistook for
the yell of his savage fees, and the flap of its
wings for their approaching tread.

Suddenly there arose a wild, prolonged yell,
that fairly froze him with terror. Kent was dis—

"covered, and all hope was gone! Oh, the agony

of that moment!

Hardly comprehending the state of things, he
formed a dozen different )lans at once. '“ v he
was going to rush madly forward and rescue
Rosalind during the confusion, and then was
about shouting for Kent.

All at once he heard a. footstep. The pur-
suers were then at hand! Resolved to lay one

i7

   

. savage lowi he rushed forward toward the ap-

proaching i' guro. Could it be possible? Was it
not a dream? There she stood before his eyes.
His limbs trembled, and he felt upon the point
of falling:

“ Is this Mr. Leslie?” asked a sweet voice that
had thrilled him more than once before.

“ I uess it‘s him or his spook,” unsavercd
Kent, for him. “ If there’s goin’ to be any 111,1:—
gin’ done, hurry it up, fur they're follerin’ us."

This threw off all reserve. Leslie folded Ros. -
lind to his breast. She spoke not—resisted not-—
her trembling limbs and sobs told more than
words could have done.

“ That’ll do for the present,” interrupted
Kent, in a kind tone. “ We must be off now, fur
the red—skins have smelt the rat, and I should
judge by the noise they’re makin’ that they’re in

, a. confounded muss. Never mind, don’t cry.
, When we get down home out of danger I’ll lot

you hu and cry as much as you please. Which
way,  Redskin?"

Pequanon turned to the loft and took long,
impatient strides. Kent followed closely in his
footsto 5 while Leslie led the trembling Rosa-
lind. Eten, regardless of the danger which

, threatened, he pressed her to him and whispered

Words of which we can only guess the meaning.

On they hurried, half—running, over the lan-
gled underwood and fallen trees until they
paused upon the brink of the river.

Here, to the surprise and joy of all, chunnon
running to a clump of bushes pulled forth a
large canoe and shoved it into the stream.
The others needed no admonition to use it.

“Here,” said their guide, “we part. May
the Great Spirit guide you.”

“ Say, you, you’ll get into trouble, won’t you,
if you go back?” queried Kent.

“The Great Spirit will protect me. Fare—
well "

“Wait, Poquanon,” said Rosalind risng from
her seat. _

“ Pequanon has only paid his debt to the pale
faced maiden.” '

The Indian was gone.

Rosalind sunk back upon her seat in tears.

“He’s the first Injin that I ever got my
clutches on that has got away after it, and
the first one that I ever felt like lettin’ m.
Somehow or other my old gun didn’t burn and

\

 

wriggle when I set my eyes on him, as it is used
to doin7 in such cases: and if it wasn’t fur that
red hide of his’n, I wouldn’t believe' he was one
of them.”

All this time the shouts and yells of the sav—
ages could be heard, and now and then it seemed
to the fugitives that they must liuVe been dis-
covered. Kcnt pulled the boat to the opposite
shore, and as he expressed it, “ hugged the
bunk mighty close.” 119 had little fear of
being discovered, but the utmost caution was
to be used, for, in their rage, the savages would
use cverymeans in their power to recapture
thou).

Kent knew that by keeping on, he would in
time reach the banks of the Ohio. Their ene<
niirrs would probably suspect the true nature
of their cvcnpe and take to the river in pur-
suit; and, as the Indians, in case of discovery,
could easily overtake and recapture them,
they must necessarily be so ved by fortune and
stratugem. Though scarce a ripple was heard,
the shadowy form of the boat shot swiftly under

the had '11:; trees and round the projecting

points 0 the bank, like some serpent gliding
noiselessly over the surface.

Soon the edge of the great moon slowly rose
above the dark line of the forest, and its long
rays streamed over wood and river; when it
had finally risen high up in the heavens, the
stream shone as brightly as at noouday.

Now that the river and its objects were so
plainly depicted, Kent kc )t closer yet under the
shadows of the friendly hank. Now and then
he hurried through some opening in the trees of
the shore, where, for a, minute, he was exposed
to any gaze that might chance to be glven;
then, when the water was shallow, he struck
the muddy bottom, and patiently worked him-
self on again. Being engaged in rowing, his
face was turned toward the stern, and thus had
a full sweep of the river whivh he had passed
over, the only point from which he had reason
to apprehend danger.

He was upon the point of speaking, when his
quick eye detected a. speck in View around a,
bend in the river, some distance back. He
halted, for he know its character.

“ W e’ro folleredl” said he, guiding the boat in
to shore.

A few minutes more and the boat could be
plainly seen by all three. It was in the center
of the stream, and approaching rapidly. The
heads of four or five Indians could be discerned.
Their object was plain to all. '

Kent had run his boat against the shore, and

the three were now waiting breathlessly for '

their enemies to pass. “

The Indians plainly had no suspicion that the
fugitives were so close at hand, and kept steadi-
ly onward. Hardly daring to breathe, our
three friends saw the long, sharp canoe, with

five of their mortal enemies, shoot past, and dis— -

appear.

“ Did you see how my gun kept twitchin’ and
jumpin’? \Vhy, I had all I could do to hold
him. Thunder! it’s too bad to see them fellers
give you suchanice shot and then miss it,”
said the ranger, again taking the oars.

Kent now guided the at with greater cau-

, " in, ever and anon turning and looking 

 

    

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gm"  ‘ m,

n.-.“ “.3:

.fmh; \

 

 

 

 

Kent, the Ranger.

‘

 

not daring to leave the sole watch to Leslie, who
had other things far more interesting to himself
with which to occupy his mind.

CHAPTER XV.
THE FUGITIVES FLYING NO LONGER.

THE fugitives continued moving forward un—

, til morning, when, to guard against needless ex-

posure, Kent again ran the canoe under the

ank, and remained at rest the entire day. All
suffered so much from hunger, that the hunter

left the boat during the afternoon, and, after a

few hours’ absence, obtained a sufficient quan—

tity of meat for them all. This was cooked
after his usual cautious and exlmrt fashion, and
was thankfully partaken of by his companions.

Roland and the maid were restng on the
sheltered bank of the river; none but Kent ven—
tured out of sight of the spot durinqr the day.
For aught they knew there might bedrordes of
savages within hearing of their voices, scouring
the woods in every direction in their search: it
needed but the slightest inadvertency upon their
part to insure their own destruction.

Leslie sat conversing with Rosalind, when
Kent started up, and, glancing behind, stepped
.. down the river-bank and peered out upon the
p stream. Leslie was beside him in an instant,

' and, as the two gazed out. the boat which they

had seen pursuing them during the night came

r ,.«' into view. It was coming up-stream, evidently

returning from the chase. It now contained

but three savages. Although Leslie had but
little to fear, nevertheless he watched the boat
with intense interest. Pausing Ia second, he

I“ glanced around, and exclaimed, in terror:

‘ z i “As sure as heaven, they are heading toward

’ ’ this point.”

i * Kent commanded, in a whisper:

.L’ ‘ “ Got your shootin’-iron ready, and be ready

' yourself. They’re comin’ in below us.” .

The savages had landed a few hundred yards
down-stream, and seemed tosuspect the presence
of no one. Suddenly one of them uttered a loud
whoop. Ina moment it was repeatei, and an
answer came, apparently from a distance. Ere

i long two savages approached the canoe, and,

entering, the live again shoved out, and com-
menced paddling up-stream. Leslie asked Kent
the meaning of these procaedings.

' , e v “Plain enough,” he answered: “they left
“ them two fellers on the shore last night, so that,

if they passed us, they would see us when we

3 _ came along, and they’ve been watching there

ever since. If we’d gonoa half amil‘ further

they’d have shot us; but as we happened to stop
afore they sot eyes on us, they’ve missed us,
 that’s all.’

' At night they again set out, proceeding fear-
lessly. When morning again dawned, many
miles were placed between Rosalind and her

" captors.

‘ it is needless to dwell upon the further par-

, txculars of their homeward journey. Ever}? (lay
~ 9'.‘ Occupied was like its predecessor: pressing

é Boldly forward when the shade of night favored

them; proceeding more cautiously through the
day: resting sometimes in the cr-nter of the

MLW‘nm, and then again approaching: the shore

for fowl; now a, prey to some imaginary fear;

and then thrilling with hope when they finally

 

 

 

 

f

 

glided into the fair Ohio. Safely they reached
their destination, unpursued, and fearing no
enemy.

“ “Tender who’s in them pile of legs up thar,”
remarked Kent, glancing suspicious y at Leslie,
lvlvhen they were approaching the ruins of the

ouse.

“ Why. who would be there?" returned he,
with well-feigned ignorance.

“ Looks as though somebody had fitted it up.
Hallo, here!” demanded Kent, battering against
the structure. ,

A; this summons George Leland stepped
fort 1.

The meeting was such as can be easily im'a -
incd; joy complete filled the hearts of all; frien ,
brother, sister and lover were reunited; nothin
was wanting to fill their cup of bliss. The 01
hunter, as soon as his brief salutation was over,
withdrew to the background. Leaning on his
rifle, he remarked that he. was “ goin’ to look on
and see the fun.”

As soon as the emotion of all had subsided,
they turned toward the hunter. They were
without shelter and home, and someting must be
done at once. .

Kent at once divined their thoughts, and
said: “ “Tel. sit down, and I’ll tell you what’s to
be done.” ,

The three did as required, and Kent unfolded
his plan. '

"There’s too much trouble for you in these
parts; you must leave. Up the river some dis-
tance is quite a settlement, and there’s the only
place you can stay. What I propose is this-—
we must leave here as soon as possible, and let
us do it now.”

“ More than once have I thought of the lan
which Kent has given,” said Leslie, “ and I ope
that it will he carried out at the earliest mo—
” Every hour passed here is an hour of

ml.

“The matter is then settled,” said George.
“Let us prepare to spend our last night here,
then to seek another home.” ,

The shelter in whiI-h Leland had spent his
time during the absence of the others, was found
to be eommodious enough to accommodate all,
and into it they went. The old hunter kept
watch during the night, while the rest slept, and
we doubt very in ch whether: four ha pier,
more hopeful beings ever were cengrega .

At the earliest streak of morn the hunter
aroused the others, and they prepared to take
their final departure. The canoe in which the
three had come was found to be sufficiently ca-
pacious for the entire party. With a. tear of re-
gret for the old home, the fair Rosalind entered
the canoe, and soon was cutt'z‘g the waters on A
its upward course. ~

It is not necessary in this place to dwell upon
the particulars of their journey. They encounter-
ed nothing unusual or alarming until, in round«-
ing a bend in the river, they were startled by
the sight of an unusual object far up the stream.
With the exception of Kent, all manifested con- .
sidern ble surprise and apprehension.

“ What are ‘we to encounter new?” asked Les- * '

lie, as he earnestly scrutinized the approaching '
Object. “Are we never to be rid of these ‘
bmwszll ,‘

 

Kent. the Ranger.

“ It is undoubtedly one of their contrivances,”
added Leland. “ and I’m afraid we shall have to
take to the woods again to give it a go-by. How
is it, Kent?"

The face of the hunter wore a quizzical look,
and his only reply was a quiet smile. As be ob—
served the looks of wonder his companions cast
upon him, he became more thoughtful.

“ This is bad business,” said he, shaking his
head; “ that is Somethingl didn‘t expect to see.”

The progress of the canoe by this tune was
checked, and it was drifting with the current.
The two young men had no desire for a nearer
approach to the apparently formidable contri-
vance.

“ Can’t either one of you two chaps make out
what sort of ship that is coming; down-strewn.”

Both Leland and Leslie were, considerably
puzzled, when they saw Rosalind smile as if on—
Joying their stupidity.

“ If you can‘t tell, just ask the gel," added the
hunter, bursting into a. loud laugh.

“ Why, George, I thought you had lived long
enough in the western country to recognize a
flat-boat.”

“ What dunces we both were. How could
any one imagine that to be anything else than a
genuine flat—boat? Let us approach it and make

the acquaintance of those on board.”

“ Sart’in, boys,” said the hunter, dipping his
paddles deep into the water a_nd impelling the
canoe rapidly forward.

“ A cheer for them!” exclaimed Leslie, rising
in the boat and swinging his but over his head.

How unspeakabl y thankful were the hearts of
the fugitives, as their sulutution was returned
by more than one voice! Friends indeed were
near, and their dangers were over.

A few moments later the canoe was beside the
flat-boat.

“ Thank God] thank God 1” fervently uttered
Leland as he clasped his sister in his arms and
realized that they were now safe, s'ife! For the
first time in weeks he felt the sweet conscious-
, ness of safety.

“It is almost worth the sufferings we have
undergone!” said he. “ The sweet consciousness
that we are really beyond the reach of our foes
in an enjoyment that we have not experienced
for a long time.”

“ Do not forget the all-sustaining Hand that
has brought us out of the very jILWS of death.”

“ Forget it? May He forget me when I fail
to remember Him. Great Father,” said Leland,
meekly uncovering and bowino‘ his head, while
the tears fell like rain doum his face, “ Great

, Father, for this and all other mercies I thank
thee!” .

“I join my thanksgiving with theirs,” said
Leslie, in the same reverent manner, as be ap-
proached brother and sister.

The flat-boat was no other than the celebrated
expedition under Major Taylor, which estab-
lished such a. firm and prosperous settlement
upon the northern bank of the Ohio. He had
about thirty souls on board, a dozen of whom
were men. The true cause of the astonishing
success of this company was that both the loader
and his comrades fully understood the perils
they encountered in venturing into the great
western wilderness. They were not men who

-;L»»./z 

 

could be decoyed into the simplest or most cun-
ning contrivances that Indian ingenuity could
suggest, nor were they those who expected to
Vsipend a. life of ease and enjoyment in the woods.

hey simply understood and prepared for what
was before them.

Major Taylor was a man rather inclined to
corpulency, with a red face, Roman nose and
eagle eye that seemed to penetrate everything at
which it glanced. He was very affable and
social, a great favorite among all his acquain‘
tunces, especially the female portion, who al-
ways 1‘ all: safe in his presence. His nicn, nearly
all of whom had Served under him in the Revo—
lution. trusted implicitly in him.

“Friends, you are welcome, doubly welcome
to this boat,” said he, raising his hat and salut—
ing Ro<alind with all the stately politeness of a
gentlcmtinof the old school. “ I trust your stay
upon it will he as prolonged as our own, who, in
all probability, will be the last passengers it will
every carry.” .

LO'illO related in a few words the main facts
Concerning the burning of Leland’s home, the
capture and subsequent escape of himself and
sister, and finally of their desire to reach the
upper settlements. The commiserations of all
were given them. For Rosalind especially they
seemed unable to say enough. She was taken
Within their cabin, where everything that was
possible was done for her comfort.

“ 1 must now insist that you remain with us,”
said Major Taylor. “Now that you have no
home to which to return, you *nust accompany
us and build a new one. If the red-skins take
our homes from us. the ' are welcome to do so;
but when they underta to it, I suspect they will
find they are troubling a set of men that know
a. trick or two as erl as themselves. “We’ve all
see service among the dogs.”

‘3’)0 you think, cap’n, there’s likely to be a.
scrinnnago where you drive your stakes?” in-
quired Kent, with a considerable degree of
curiosity.

“ I am sure I cannot tell,” replied Major Tay-
lor. “ It certainly seems probable, but why do
you ask?"

“'Canso if there’s any likelibility of it, I’ll
agree to accept your invite andgo with you.”

“ Well, well, my good man. you will go with
us an way, and take the chances of a brush
with t cm. You strike me as a man who has
seen considerable of the woods."

“ He has indeed,” said Leslie. “ Under heaven,
our safety is owing to his experience and segue-
ity. He has spent a lifetime in the woods, and
I can honestly say he will be a valuable acquisi-
tion to your party.”

“ Eome, none of that now, or I’ll leave you i”
said the hunter, in a warning tone to his young
friend.

“ I have no doubt of it—no doubt of it in the
least, We need him, and if he will only go
with us. I think I can promise that he Wlll oc-
casiouailv see the service for which his soul‘
longs. But, you have not given us your do
cisinn.” ‘ ‘

"We are very grateful for your offer.” said
Leland; “we have indeed no other refuge to
which we can go. The house which has shel-
tered my sister and myself since infancy is

e.
i

r

 

Kent, the Ranger.

\

31

 

swept :1 way by those whom we had learned to
look upon as our friends and protectors. I
think when we see men at your age beginning
life again, we can afford to do it ourselves.”

“ 01' course you can—of course you can,” re-
plied the officer, in his hearty manner. “ We’ll
start a settlement on :1 grand scale. One of our
men once took orders, and is licensed to marry,
so that if either of you gentlemen should need
his services at any time, you will always find
him at hand."

“ There is a servant—~a negro, who was taken
at the same time time with my sister. I fi‘cl as
though some eil'ort should be made to recover
him,” added Leland, a few minutes later. “ We
shall be in a Situation to do that by accompany-
ing you, or, at least, we shall be more likely to
find some means of doing so, than if we fol—
lowed out the idea, entertained some time ago,
of leaving the country altogether.”

“ I am decidedly of the, opinion—”

The offieer was interrupted by a man at the
front of the boat, calling out his name. He in-
stantly hastened beside him and demanded what
he wanted.

“Yonder is something approaching, and I
cannot satisfy myself as to what it is. What
do you make of it?" he asked.

Major Taylor bent his sharp gaze upon the
object in question for a moment, and then re-

led:

“ It looks like the head of a erson, and yet
it is certainly an odd-looking head. We will
call this hunter that has just come on board.
Undoubtedly he can assist us.”

‘ In answer to the summons, Kent a reached
the bow of the boat, rifle in hand. 0 peered
across the water, but, for a time, failed to iden-
tify the thing.

“Stand back a little, and I’ll give it a. shot.
I’ll graze it at first, so as to be sure of what I
am going to hit when I shoot next time.”

The hunter raised his rifle, and holding it a
second, fired. At the same instant the unknown
object disappeared.

“ I think you struck itl” remarked Leland.

“ I didn’t aim at it. and consequently it ain’t
been hit,” returned Kent, with an air of assur—
ance. v

“ Yonder it is this moment!”

As these words were uttered, it again ap-
peared, and to the amazement of all, called out
to them:

“ Gorra! what you \vastin’ your bullets on dis
itieiggpr’s head for? Reckoned Kent knowed bet-

r ,

_ The hunter seemed on the point of falling from
laughter. ’- ‘

“ Who’d ’a’ thought it was Zeb? Where has
he come from? He beats all niggers in Kentuck
for adventures and walloping lies."

A few minutes later the negro was received
upon the flat-boat. It IS scarcely necessary to
say that his friends all experienced unt‘eigued
i'ny at his return. He was as jubilant and reck—

ess of the truth as ever, and it was a long time
before they got at the truth regarding his escape
from the Shawnees.

The flight of Leland, under Providence, was
really die means of liberating the negro. The
confusion occasioned by the escape of the former

\

 

was so great, that the savages imagined he also
had fled with him. Understanding that it was
“do or die” with him, he tugged and Eating
gled at his bonds with the strength of ties
peration. Being secured to a tree as urual, at
some distance from the center of confusion. he
escaped observation for a few moments. It is
doubtful, however, whether he would have suc-
coeded in freeing himself, had he not ’been cov—
ertly assisted by some unknown friend. Who
this personage could be, was never known: per-
haps some Indian who had been befriended by
the. Leland family and who experienced some
compunctions of honor (not oi conscience) at the
situation of the poor negro.

Zcb had learned enough by this time to exer-
('isO a little common sense. Accordingly, when
hc‘found hll’llSé’lf free, hontade the best use of
his feet and wits, and used every effort to reach
the Ohio River. According to his own narra-
tion, he overcame all manner of perils before
succeeding. Undoubtedly be incurred great risk
in the undertaking, and finally succeeded.

He was trudging wearily along the river mar~
gin, listening for some sound of his relentless
enemies, who, be doubted not, were upon .h:s
trail, when he caught sight of the flat-boat. Al~
though he did not identify it at once, be under—
stood from its size and formation that the hand
of the white man alone was concerned in its
structure. He immediately plunged into the
river, reaching it in due time, as we have al-
ready shown. I

At last the pioneers reached their destination,
and began a settlement which hat this day, is not
a town merely, but a flourishing city. As we
have hinted in another place, their experience of
frontier life and the sagacity and foresight of
their nominal head, saved them from the mis-
fortunes and sufferings that often befall settlers
in the new country. It is true the red wave of
the dreadful war in the W'est surged to their
very doors; but they saw far away in the hea—
vens the portentous signs, and so prepared that .
they passed through it unscathed. i

The assingL years touched lightly the heads of 5
Roland) and osalind Leslie. As the Ealniy days ‘
of peace settled upon them, an old unter fre-
quently spent days and Weeks at their house. At
such times, he took the children upon his knees
and told them of the hardships and suifering
their parents had endured, and recounted many
of his own adventures to \hem. Old Kent was
a universal favorite in the settlement. As he
became too old to spend his time entirely in the
woods, he joined the boys in their hunts. and
there was not one who would not have braved
death in his defense. He died peacefully and
happily, under the root of those whom he had
served so well, and was given a, burial, at his
own request, in the grand old woods which had
ever been his delight and enjoyment,

The wife of Leland survived all of those who,
have figured in these pages; but she too has been
laid in the valley. Their descendants are now _u
numerous and influential family, proud of then-
ancestry, and enthusiastic over the deeds of
THE RANGER. . r ‘

THE END.

 

 

 

 

32 Octavo Pages.

80 Kentucky Ben, ths Long Ritle of the Calender. By
Roger Sturhuck.

81 The Kit Carson Club. By T. C. l'inrbnugh.
82 Little Burk. ihn lloy Guide. By Barry Ringgnid.

S3 Pony Bub the Reckless Rider oi the Rockies. By Col.
Prentiss inrzruhmn.

84 Cnptnin Fiy-by-leht. lly Jnneph E. Badger, Jr.
85 ertitln Rulph, the Young Explorer. By C. Dunning
‘ nr '.

Bil Little Dnn hwkn.
8’? The Menagerie Hunters.
88 The 110 'l‘rn ) ' or, Lifts Air on the Gi ai a.

J. M. H’ivnil'uminml I, H g p e
39 ‘Lolurahore Llje. liy C. D. Clark.

90 Roving Rifle. Cimtor's Little Scout.
bnugh.

91 Oregon Jonh, the Wizard Ride.
92 llurrlonne Kit. By A. F. Holt.
Jnke, the Colnrmln Circus Boy. By Bryant
6.

By Morris Rmiwing.
By Mnj. ll. Grenville.
By

By T. C. llnr-

By Roger Sturbuck.

‘ " K

94 Sum Spenec. the Bl'fillillltrnl Boy. iiy Ed. Willett.

95 Moscow to Siberia; or, A Ynukne iioy to the Rescue.
l‘ly Charles Morris.

96 Fighting Fred; or, The Cnsiuwnys ni’ Grizzly Camp.
iiy 'I'. (7. ilm‘bnugil.

97 Crulle ol'the Flynu'nyz or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon.
By C. Dunnng Clurk.

98 The Boy Viuilnntcu: nr, King Cole and His Bund.
n,- Mnj. n. 1:. Stmlxlnul.

9" The “'hlle Tigernz orV Sllwr Rifle. the Girl Trncker
oflmke Superior. iiy Cunt. Chm-ins linwnni.

100 The Snow-Shoe Trull; m','l'|\e Forest Desperation.
iiy St. George Ruthbnnc.

101 Mnrlnnu, the 0mm» Girl; m‘, The Mysterioul Canoe.
My l‘hlwnrd S. Eilifl.

102 The F1 ’nwn Afloat: or, Ynnkee Boys 1Round the

World. iy C. )unning Cizirk.

105 Pat )lullnney‘n Adventures: or, Silver Tongue

‘ the Dncntuli Queen. My (1. i.. litiwurlis.

104 The Bo I’roflnevtor: or. The Scum ni‘tlw Sierra
Ravine. y Roger Stnrhur-k.

105 .“Inouoc, the ani Witch; or, The Squnttur’n Secret.
lly Iddwin Emerson.

106 The Boy Grub-elm; or, Jun nml an‘u Bit: Find. By
Edward VViliutt.

10? The Bowler Rove”; or, Lost on the Overland
'i'rnil. iiy J. Milton Holl'mnn.

108 Aim-kn. the Wolf-Queen: or, Tim Girzy Brothers"

Double Crimu. lvanpt. lloyvnrrl Lincoln.
109 Ehrilntlnn Jlln, the “'hite Man's Friend. ByEdu-nnl
f. El in.

110 l’lneky Joe, the Boy Avenger: or, Dick Beimont‘s
Lmit Ride. By J. Milton llnmnnn.
111 The Border Gunmnker; or, The Hunted Maiden.
ily James L. liowcn.
'1 11‘. lmll’l-lllumled Pete, the DoubletKniie. By Joneph
A. I in: gar, . r.
1.13 The River
Cnpt. .l. 1‘10. Allnum.
1.14 Alone on the l’inlnu. iiy l‘Irlwnnl Wiiiett.
‘15 Silver llorn, Mill His Rilio Fin'deutil. By Razer
Sturbnrk.
i i6 Exploit»: (If Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodnmzn.
My Elllt‘i'smu Rodnmn.

Rlllcn; or, The Fnte oftha Flutbont. By

117 The Toun Mustnn are or, Dick Me "a Run -
' m. lin.l¥unuing c1." . l m K

. 118 Old Traps; or, the Boy Rivnit. By Barry Ringzoid.‘

 

119 Center Shot. the ‘vVhite Crow; or, Roving

Firxt Cmnpmn. By T. C. Hnrbnugh.
A "at Trail; or, Clnrk CloveriyAmong the Turtnrs.

Rifla'a

120

lly Cimrles Moms.

121 Hunter Pal-d Ben; or, The Waknsh’a Blind Lend.

By Roger Sturlmck.

122 The Esqulmnux’ Queen; or, The Myntery of the

Lone iiut. By G. Waldo Brown.

128 Tim, the Boy Acrobat; or, Life in the Chen! Ring. B"
Charles Murris. ‘

124
125

Queen Bennie, the BorderGirl. By Henry J.Thomns.

Tom Tabor, the Boy Fugitive; or, The Young Lynch-
Gung “ Wolves.” By Burry'Ringgold.

Mink Cont, the Death-Shot; or, The Spring of the
Tiger. By Jon. E. Badger, Jr.

The Deer lluntern. By John J. Mnrshnll.

\Volf-Cn ; or. The Night-llawks of the Fire-Lands.
By Cunt. ‘hna. Howard.

126

127
128

129 fairly-Spur; or, The Mountnln Hnrnino.

By Ed wnrtl
I ett. .
180 Kcetnen, Queen Oi the Plains.
131 \Vintuh, the Child spy.

182 The Inland Tru per: or,’[‘he Young Whitedlumilo
iluntevs. By Chnr el Howard.

188 The Fore-t Specter; or, The Ypung ilunler’n For.
By Edward VVillott.

Wild Nnt, the Trooper. By W'm. R. Eyater.

Tho Sllvcr Bugle; nr, Th8 Indian Maiden of St.
Croix. By Liuut. (.‘oi. Hnielton. '

186 The l’rnirie Trapper. By C. Dunning Chn~k.
13? The Antelope Roy. liy Geo. L. Aiken.
188 Long Shot; nrY The Dwarquiile. By Cnpt.CnmttoL-k.

189 Colonel Crockett, the Belu- King. By Charla-a E.
Luluiie.

By Perry ii. St. Julin.

By George (:lensnn.

184
185

140 gill Pegn‘, the Mountninecr; or, The ’i‘rnmwr Rivuis.

y Lewis \ 7. Canon.

141 The Giant Hunter: or, The Mini Scourge of the
Kirknpoos. By Hurry l'lnzunl.

Blnek Panther, the Hammond,
Bridger, Jr. '

1-12 By Joseph E.

143 Carson, the Guide; or, Perils of the Frontier. By Lieutv

J. H. Randolph.

Kent, the Ranger; or, The Fugitive! ‘0! the Border. By
Erlwnrd S. Elih. Early-1.71.15.

Bill Ruhhlnn, Hunter; or, Tin: lilnn in Green. By
Eiiwnrd \i’iiiult. Renin Jun. ‘1‘).

The Half-Breed lllvnl; or. The Tangled Trail.
By Jon. E. Badger, Jr. Remly Jan. ‘29.

147 The Marked Avenger. By Col. Prentisn Ingrahrun.
Rendy Feb. 5. '

Nut, the Trapper and Indian Fighter.
Prescott. Randy Feb. 1‘1.

Bendlc’n Boy’s Library in for sale by nil Newsdenlen,
five cents per copy, or mm, by mail on receipt urnix cent: each.
BEADLE AND ADAM"), Publihherl,

98 William Street, New York.

144

145

146

148 By Paul J.