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/;2)?¢P«~J\ £20,:

 

 

 

 

Copyrighted, 1886, by Unbu AND ADAMS.

 

VOL X. $2.50 Publlshed Weekly by Beadle and Adams, F Price, No. 

B Yen'- N0. 98 WILLIAM Sm. NEW Yonx. “'6 06""-

HUNTER-PAW“Elfiflzith’s

BY ROGER STARBUCK-

 

3“ 9.762%
M»  7 
HGHTLY SPRINGING “KORE, TEE WAKASH DREW HIS KNIFE. AND emu
OF THE PROSTRATE CAPTIVES.

 

   
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
   
   
  
    
  
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
  
 
  
    
  
        
     
    
      

8 Hunttr-Pard Ben.

 

Hunter-Part1 Ben;
on.
The Wakash’s Blind. Lead.

BY ROGER STARBUCK,
AUTHOR or “smvsa noun," " OREGON Joan,”
“m BOY rnosrnc'ron,” “unruch
BEN,” ETO., Era.

CHAPTER I.
m AMATEUR HUNTER.

A FINE-LOOKING boy of sixteen, with light-
brown hair, blue eyes, and ruddy cheeks was
walking up the slope of one of the wooded hills,
j st south of Mt. Ol mpus, in Washington Ter-
ritory. The garb 0 this youth, consisting of a
brown cloth hunting-suit, set off the proportions
of a wiry, compact: form, well fitted for the en-
durance of: fatigue or anyother hardship. In a

 

'leather belt about the waist of the lad, was a

knife having a carved handle, on his shoulder
rested a fine rifle, whose polished barrel glisten-
ed like silver, and a well—stocked, waterproof
ammunition-pouch was slung at his side.

v He moved with a quick, springy step, his gaze
fixad intently on the ground, which, softened by
recent rains, bore upon it the footprints of two
animals.

“ If here are not a bear’s tracks. then I can’t
tell what they are. I’m no Western boy-that’s
a sure thing; I wish I was; then I’d know about
these marks as quick as a flash. There are no
bears in New York, except those in the men—
a eries, and in Wall street.”

hus commenting, he hurried on, until at
length be came to a lofty rook. where the
tracks of the animals were lost. About this rock
huge granite fragments were iled in pictur-
esque confusion, and as some 0 them formed a
good foothold, the boy proceeded to climb them.

Finall , arrived at the summit of the eleva-
tion, he ooked about him in vain for any signs
of the deer he was endeavor-lug to track.

“ Here I’ve followed those con founded marks,
which I first saw this morning, close to the door
of my ‘ shanty,’ for about four miles, only to be
balked in the end.”

As he spoke his aze was suddenly fixed upon

' Something resemb mg the branch of a tree, pro-
r

trading em a hole, among the rocky frag--
meats. In fact it was the horn of a deer, which
was trying to move a large bowlder that had
fallen over the entrance of a hollow, after the
creature had passed through it.

“Not muc skill wanted to shoot game at

. such cloae quarters,” muttered the boy, as he

inted his rifle toward the protruding horn.
be sharp ring of the piece was heard, and the
horn w withdrawn from the crevice.

“ ’vgflshot him through the head,” continued
the lad, as he peered through the crevice, to see

,. thfigp’r lying motionless on its side.

'now attem ted to pull the bowlder from

the entrance to the hollow so as to get at his
nize. The piece of rock being heavy, he was a
ong time in movin it from its place. At last,
however, been ed in rolling it over to the
edge of the rocky shelf on which he stood. and

I

 

WhiCh Overlooked the base of the rocks be had
mounted.

Just 88 be seized the horns of the deer, which
was a small one, and was about to haul it from
the hollow, he heard an angry growl, apparently
he'lf‘ind him. h h

urning, e t on beheld to his disma, a
huge black bear, which had Already commezyiced
to mount the pile of granite fragments, evi.
dently to dispute with him the possession of his

ame.

“ Here’s the meaning of the other tracks I
saw,” muttered the lad. “ That bear has been
chasing the deer, and only abandoned the
Eursuit when the creature got shut up in the

ollow.” ’

He took careful aim and fired, but it chanced
that, Just as he pulled trigger, the bear trotted
behind one of the rocky fragments, which it
must pass on its way to the ledge above.

“ Missed, by all that’s good!" cried the boy,
as. he again began to reload. “ Well, never
mind, there’ll be a show for two or three shots
before that big, clumsy brute can climb so farl”

_In this he was mistaken. The bear came on
Wltl]. a colerity which Seemed truly marvelous,
consulermg his hulk. He was, in fact, nearly
eight feet long, and although rather lean about
the loins, the rest of his body was well filled
out. . The lad hoped he would not again miss
his mm, as the steepness of the rocks above him
would prevent his retreating from his shaggy
antagonist.

Hastin reloading, he fired at the brute, which
was now less than two yards below him. The
animal caught the bullet slantingly on the jaw,
for it had given its head a jerk as the weapon
was discharged. With a fierce growl, the
creature was about to draw itself up on the
ledge, when the boy made a blow at its throat
with his knife, but it seized the blade in no
strong teeth, and, tossing it contemptuously to
one side, came on.

The boy now found himself cornered. The
bear gained the ledge, and was about to deal
him a stroke with one of its claws, when the
crack of a. rifle sounded, not far off. and down
Went the huge beast, rolling off the ledge to the
bottom of the elevation, as a bullet passed
through its head. I

Before it could rise, a tall, nimble young
hunter appeared from behind a clump of _earth
not far off, and plunged a long knife again and
again into the brute's body. .

“ Stranger,” he cried, ‘ I reckin this‘b’ar be-
longs to me by rights, but I don’t mind goin’
halves with yer, seein’ as yer’ve had some trou-
ble with the animile.”

“ You are welcome to the whole of him,” an-
swered the ho , laughing. “ The wonder to me
is, that I didn t get a good shot at him when I
had the chance.’

“ Well, I’m obliged. to yer fur givin' me the
animile, which is a-wlndfall, as b’ars ain’t com-
mon h at, so near the coast.” ‘

“ I out think I could do too much for on,
anyway,” answered the boy, “as you ave
savod my life.” _

“ I’ve s’arved myself in doing so,” replied the
hunter, as he roceeded to skin the beast.

He was a ta 1. broad-shouldered youna fellow,

I

I,

\

Hunter-Part1 Ben. S

 

wearing buckskin shirt and leggins, with a
belt about the waist. His face, tanned by ex-
posure, was good-natured and handsome, with
a long. hrown mustache; and his eyes, clear and

enetrating, were of a dark-gray color. Al-
though but eighteen years of age, a certain
compression of the lips gave him the appearance
of being older.

“The b’ar’s a good haul fur me,” he went on,
after he had skinned the animal, “ though the
fact is, I corned to these parts to try my hand
at sea-otter fishin’, fur them critters is fetchin’
a good price in the market, jest now.” ,

“You are an experienced hunter—I can see
that ” said the boy,

“l reckin you’re ’bout right. Injuns, as well
as many 0’ the settlers, has heard of Ben Bea-
ver, which is my name.”

“M name is Frank Foster, and I’m lately
from ew York City. As I’m green at hunt-
ing, ’1, would like to put myself under your tui-
tion.

“ Whar do you live?”

“My father was a. good hunter. He came
on here, when I was a child, bought a piece of
land not far from the coast, and put up a
small house." My mother died soon after he
went awa , and as soon as I was old enough
to leave so 001, my father sent for me to come
on here. Before I arrived, he also died, and
was buried; so that I’m now living all alone.
It is a sort of hermit’s life, although now and
then some of my neighbors visit me. I wish
you would make my house your home while
you are hunting for otter-skins.”

“I’Ve heard 0’ yer father—Jim Foster, as be
war called, and I know be war an honest, open-
flsted chap. The last I heerd speak on him, be
war oin’ to start a salmon factory.”

“ hat fell through. The man he was going
into partnership with was killed in aquarrel
with some Chinamen near Portland. Come,
now: say you will stay with me at my house,”
added Frank, holdin out his hand.

The hunter cordial y grasped it.

“May I be dog-gone sf 1 don’t accept yer
offer, and any little instructions ’bout rifle-
shoofiin’ and so on, I shall be mou’ty glad to giv

or.

The bear having been skinned and cut up,
Ben Beaver soon after inflicted the same treat-
ment upon Frank’s deer.

Before night the boy had procured a horse
from a neighbor, and the meat and skins of the
Ewe slain animals were conveyed to the lad’s

ouse.

 

CHAPTER II.
ran sna-nonl.
FRANK Fosm’s house, situated about two

miles from the ea-coast. was a story and a half ,

high. A rude fence inclosed ‘ small space of
ground, back of the building, and upon this land
there was a shed, in which the two boys now
deposited the skins of the deer and the bear.

There were oookin utensils in the house, and
the lad, assisted by en, proceeded to prepare a
re ast.

he he s were soon enjo ing a d dinner.

“ Tell go some of your huntingg‘i’ieiventures,

[old Frank. as the two nartook of their food.

Ben held suspended upon his fork an enormous
chunk of steak, which he had been about trans-
ferring to his mouth.

“ Thar’sa time fur everything,”he said, “but
I’ll be dog—gone at that time are when yer’s
pitchin’, plum center, into a good squar‘ meall
At sech times my fakilties is all concentered on
the subjec’ in hand, whether it are huflier meat,
b’iled mush or muskratl"

Having thus delivered himself, the young
hunter continued to eat with great energy, and
did not utter another wor: until the meal Was
finished. He then procee ed to “jerk” some of
the deer and the bear’s meat, showing Frank
how to perform the operation in the most ex-
peditious manner.

Strips of the meat having been salted and
cooked over the fire, were made ready for slow-
age in the boys’ wallets.

“Bizness is bizness," said Ben, a few hours
later. “Ef yer like, yer kin now go with me
arter seaotter. The critters is mighty slieers
nowadays, but I’ve heerd that some on ’em he
lately been seen on the coast, and I’m goin’ to
look for ’em:"

Tl. two setting out finally reached the coast.

“ I have a canoe of my own," said Frank.

He went to a pile of rocks not far 03, and,
from a hollow, drew forth a neat canoe.

The lads entered it, and were soon paddling
along shore.

They had not proceeded far when Ben whis
pared to his companion to work his paddle with
out noise.

“ Do you see anything?” inquired Frank.

“Yes, thar’s an otter, rubbin‘ his head ag’in‘
one of them rocks, ahead.” ‘

Noiselessly paddling, the two were finally ' ‘
close enough to the creature to deal it a blow.

Ben struck it on top of the head with his rifle,
killing it instantly. - >

“ Don’t let the canoe drift into that current,"
said the hunter, alluding to the strong tide
which was setting rapidly around one of the
rocks toward a whirlpool about seven fathoms

from the shore.

As he spoke. he roceeded to haul the otter ‘
into the vessel. '1‘ e creature was a large one,
ed was the best of its kind.

Gazing toward the animal, Frank forgot to
use the caution necessary at this place, and the
canoe, caught by the dangerous current, was,
borne swiftl along toward the whirlpool. All
efforts of t 9 boys were useless. Straight to,-
ward the whirlpool the light craft was drawn.

Ben pulled a rope from his wallet, and, malt-
inga noose. tried to throw it so that the loop
would catch on a projecting column of rock.
\But the rope fell short. ' .

“It are all up with usi” he cried. “ No one
eyer got into that ’farnal hole and oomed out
a we. =

With lightning rapidity the canoe was drawn
on toward the foaming whirlpool. It had near-
ly reached the edge of it, and we ld the next
moment have been carried unde ,but for the
unexpected assistance the lads received from a‘
person whose canoe now come shooting from,
round a high rock, which hitherto had concealed
him from the boys. The end of a rope, tin-m ,' '

 

with soft, silky fur, which Ben at once peroeiv-‘i ‘

 

 

Hunter-Para. Ben.

 
 

 

,‘by the new-comer, was caught by Ben, after
which the rescuer fastened‘the other end about
a gagged column of rock, a ainst which he
qu ckly directed his vessel. Al that was now
necessary was a lon , vigorous pull on the line,
by means of whic the imperiled craft was
rslowly but surely drawn against the tide to the
rocks on which stood the stranger.
_ He was a wild-looking creature of dwarflsh
stature, with monstrous naked feet and breast,
tangled hair falling about his brow and eyes,
enormous ears, and face of a ellowish, cop-
peg hue, shaped something like hat of a horse.
is eyes, keen and penetrating, flashed with
a sort of maniacal glare, and his large, open
mouth, disclosing huge white fangs, gave him
the appearance of a wild beast. A strip of
woolen cloth about the loins, and an old, tat-
tered blalzet, hanging from his shoulders, con-
stituted his only garb. There was a broad belt
about his waist, and this, besides the long knife
hecarried, contained a few shells and fragments
of rock, which hung dangling by pieces of
twine.

‘ ‘ By the ’tarnall” cried Ben, as the twp boys
gazed with surprise upon the singular being,

‘ whoever yer be, yer’ve snaked us most beyoo-
tiful out of that ’farnal whirlpooll”

The stranger grinned hideously.

“ Good,” he said, in a voice which rgled like
that of a drowning man. “The ea-Mole is
glad to save the white be 5, for they will give

im somethin to eat. he Mole ives under
the water, an be is tired of eating fish; he
would like some deer-fleshl”

The speaker opened his mouth, after he spoke,
and inted down his throat.

“ 00d Lord Injun!” cried Ben, “ef Injun
yer be, which f take are the case though you
aren‘t much like them I’m used to on’topen yer
mouth so wide, as it are nat’rally big enough
fur an oven already. Don’t yer go to talkin’
’bout livin’ under water, neither, which are
sim lv on seerble fur any human critter l”

“%ghl’ ejaculated the strange being. “The
home of the Wakash is deep an dark, but there
is ligl’it there, too. The Wakash loves his

ome.

“ Wakashf" said Ben. “That’s not more’n
five or six of the tribe livin’ now, somewhar
about the coast, near Vancouver Island. Are
you a Wakash‘i”

“ The Sea-Mole is a Wakash. Come, will you
give him meat? He is very hungry. If not
give, then he go back to his water-hole.”

“ Lord bless yer, Injun l” cried Ben, “ I never

et refused white man or red a morsel of flesh.
er shall hev it, it er’ll go with me to my
quarters,” and he 1 ed inquiringly at Frank.

“ He is heartily welcome to go home with me
and eat at my table, as long as he likes,” said'
Frank, who really itied the Indian.

“Good!” cried t e Sea-Mole, and, leaping on
2?: tools, he began to throw up his arms and

. ll- 4

Ben leaned over and whispered:

“ The poor critter are half-crazy. Lord love
erl it’s the fu’st time I ever see’d a crazy

ninnl” .,
. he two canoes hava been securely moored

 

 

in a hollow among the rocks, Ben proceeded to
skin his otter.

He did this by cutting the skin loose around
the vent and then sliding his knife up the tail.
The skin, having been freed, was carefully
peeled off by being drawn backward and for-
ward, as far as the head, when a out being made
abouth the eyes and mouth, it was drawn en-
tirely off.

The lads, accompanied by the Wakash, made
their way to the house, where Frank treated
his nest to the best his table afforded.

V hen the strange being had finished his meal
he opened a pouch hanging by a string about
his neck and presented a piece of quartz-rock to
each of the he s. This quartz was of a bluish
hue, streaked ere and there with a substance
of a yellowish-red color.

_ “GOLD! by the ’tarnall” cried Ben, spring-
ing excitedly to his feet. " Whar on ’arth did
yer git it, In 'unl”

“ The Sea ole can get plenty more i” was the
answer.

“You kin? Whar‘i" .

A cunning leer crossed the face of the Wa-

as .

' “The Sea-Mole not tell: but if the white
boys can follow him, it is well. He has sworn
to his fathers that he would never tell the gold
secret, and he never will. Where he lives, the
light of gold flashes all around him i”

“You say we kin foller yer! Go on, then,
and we’ll do it,” cried Ben.

“No, the Wakash must first get far ahead of
the white boys. Then they may follow.”

“ Well, away yer ol" cried Ben, eagerly.
“Drat me et I hunt or sea-otter or an thin’
else while thar’s a prospec’ of flndin’ goldl ’

“The Sea-Mole would like to rest,” said the
Indian, “ for he has come far to-day, but he
will go away if the white boys want him to.”

“Hang it, no!” cried Frank, “you can stay
here as long as on like.”

“The white oy is good, and the. Wakash
will not forget it,” Said the Indian. He re-
mained at the house until the folllowing morn-
ing Eben he started 03 before the boys were
awa e.

 

CHAPTER III.
THE PURSUIT.

FRANK, stretched on a mattress near the
hunter, was the flrst‘to open his eyes. Looking
toward the blanket, on the other side of the
room, where the Indian had been lying, he
noticed his absence. ,

He at once aroused Ben, and told him that
the Wakash was gone.

“ Thunder! yer don’t say so! Then thar’s no
time to lose. We ought to hev kepta better
watch of that crazy coon."

The two having dressed themselves looked
out of a window, to see the Indian almost out of
ei ht in the distance.

on hastily stuffed a supply of venison into

his wallet, w ich already contained some corn

and meal cakes. Then, snatching hisrifle, he
started ofl at a pace which Frank, who had
looked up the house and tollewed him, found it
hard to equal.

  
 

 

r

3i
;x

9

fl

e

Hunter-Paid Ban. 5

The Wakash kept on with the speed of a
deer. and was in his canoe, gliding along the
coast, before the boys could reach the shore.
.Finally they entered their light craft, and
both seizing paddles tried to overtake the In-
uau. _

“ Thar he goes out‘ of sight in the mist i" cried
Ben, “but Pm hopin' it’ll soon clear, and then
p’raps we kin keep him in sight. Ef we kin
only do that, we’ll track him to the gold cave.”

‘ Do you believe his story about the gold?”
said Frank. “Remember his mind is not alto-
gether right.”

“ One thing is sartint. I kin tell gold
‘quarts’ when I see it. Whar could he hev got
that gold?”

“ From the mountains, perhaps.”

“No, no. Them ‘quarts’ corned from under
water, I’m shore. That’s green threads of sea-
weed stickin’ to ’em.”

The mist slight] clearing, a few minutes
later the boys caug t a glimpse of the dwarflsh
figure of the Indian, as he passed round the
angle of a ridge of rocks, projecting far out
into the sea. The next moment he was hidden
by the rugged mass. Just then the wind com-
menced b owing a furious ale. The two boys
exerted themselves with might and main, but,
before they could reach the shore, a huge
wave swept them like lightning ast it, and
the canoe nearly overturning, . rank was
thrown out. headlong, his skull coming in such
violent contact with a rugged projection, that
he was stunned. Ben quickly bending side-
ways, clutched the drowning youth by the col-
lar, and, with one powerful jerk, pulled him
into the light vessel. Then, again having re-

course to his paddle, he prevented the canoe

from swamping by keeping its head to the sea.

“By the roarin cataract!” cried the hunter,
“thar’s some difl’rence in workin’ these craft
on the sea and on a stream. Them long, sweep-
in’, tumblin’ waves is bad fur paddles i”

As the storm roared around him and the
canoe was driven further out at sea, Ben found
it diflicult to manage the frail craft, which was
tossed about and hurled here and there like a

cork. Frank had come to his senses. but he sat

staring about him, bewildered, while the blood
trickled from the wound on his head. The
young hunter tied him, with a. piece of rope in
the canoe to one of the thwarts, to prevent his
being swept overboard.

Meanwhile the storm continued to rage. The
seas became more violent, and as Frank, in his
present condition, could give Ben no assistance,
the trapper feared that the canoe would soon
be swamped. The vessel, nearly full of water,
was now far from the landI which could be
dimly seen, many miles to windward, and
about an hour later, it was no longer in 51 ht

through the flying rack. As he gazad to ee-,

ward, the hunter suddenly uttered a joyful ex-
clamation, on seeing a small, topsail schooner,
which had hitherto been concealed from his
sight by the mist, lying, hove to, not a quarter
of a mile 011’.

“ Hillo — hillol” he shouted, “ hyar’s two
swamped mortils wantin’ help! A rope. tharl
Come and throw us a rope!”

/

‘ ‘might have been noticed

A man came to the rail and peered through
the mist.

“Hyari this way—hyarl’_’ continued Ben, an "
the canoe was swept on.

A few minutes later the schooner swung
alongside of the swamped craft, and a rope be-
. ing thrown, Ben made it fast about his breast,
under the arms. Then cutting his companion
clear of his lashings, he seized him in a Vise-like
grasp, and shouted to the schooner’s men to
haul. They pulled vigorously, and when the
hunter was half~way up, they relieved him of
his human burden.

Frank, nearly unconscious, was laid on deck;
and as Ben climbed aboard, a youth of eighteen
came toward him from aft. -

This youth was attired rather fancifully in an
embroidered jacket, lined with otter-fur, flow-
ing blue pants, and a jaunty blue cap. He was
a ittle above the middlin size, with round,
well-molded limbs, chest an throat, the latter
being fully revealed by a broad, open, white
collar, having a loose necktie in front. His
complexion was dark, and he had a handsome,
oval-shaped face, glowing with healthy color.

“Hillel hyar's a sea-dandy, shore enough,"
thought Ben; “ but thar‘s too sharp a snap in
his black eyes fur him to be an honest chap, of I
aren’t mistook.”

“ Well, what’s the news?, Blown out to sea, I
suppose?” said the young fellow, smiling. _

“ You’re right thar. but I don’t know asthar’s .
anythin7 artikelar amusin’ ’bout the thing," ,
answered en, noticing that the smile remained
even when the sailor looked down at Frank,
who, with his blood-stained brow and his wild, '
delirious eyes, presented a itiful appearance.

“You’ll remember that am captain of this
craft,” said the sailor youth, drawing himself
up. “ Captain Dirk Derrick.”

“ I won’t be likely to forgit it, yer kin he
shore," said Ben, as he raised Frank to his feet.
“ But kin yer do nothin' for this poor pard of
mine? You kin see he needs help.” .

“ I have not long been captaifi answered
Dirk. “ John Loomis was captain until two
days ago when he was killed by fallin from
aloft, and of course, as I was his first 0 oer, I
stepped into his shoes,” added the speaker, with
an air of satisfaction.

“ Well, what hev that to do with yer helpin’
my Bard!”
“ nly this. Lucy Loomis, the Cap’s niece,
may not care to have that distressing object in

the cabin.”

“ 0n the contrary, I insist on his being taken
there,” was egoken in a gentle, feminine voice:
and turning, on behold a lovely English girl of I
fifteen, wearing a black dress and neat, white
collar, theblattert havinh ab brmvni bow.t fThe
gir was a must a, wit a rig , quan see,
which, however, was now clouded1 by the sad-
ness caused by her uncle’s late, painful death.

She showed much sympathy for Frank, and
the peculiar look of interest with which a r!

azes upon a young and Premises-mg no.

b 11 her soft, dark
or s.

1 “Thanks,” said Ben, bowing and lifting his
[ coon-skin cap. “ Yer kin see a needs help.”

 

 

 

   

Hunter-Pars! Ben.

 

  
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
  
   
    
  
   
    
    
  
  
    
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
   
     
  
  

"have him area at into the cabin at once,
Dirk,” said the g l, “ and lay him in my
berth.”

“In your berth!” cried Dirk, with a dark
flush.

“Yes, in my berth. because it is the most
comfortable one in the cabin.”

“ You seem to take a great interest in the, fel-
low,” said Dirk. “However, I will do as you

as .”
Frank was conveyed to the cabin.
“ You must come, too," said Lucy, looking at
Ben. “ He will miss you, if he does not see you
the moment he is better.”
‘ Ben was soon by the side of his friend, whOse
‘ head Luc now bathed with water and camphor,
. while a b ack stewardess administered brandy
“ , with a teaspoon. _
' - The boy began to rave deliriously, about the
Wakasb and the gold cave.
. “What he says has a good deal of truth in it,
/' I believe,” remarked Dirk. “ I‘ saw that canoe
he speaks of in the distance, just before the storm
came up, and, if there’s gold in ros .ct l’m
bound to have my share! ’ be ad ed, is eyes
shining with a greedy expresswn.

CHAPTER IV.
LEFT ON THE ROCKS.

THE storm continued all day and also through
the night. Quarters for Ben were found in the
forecastle, and Lucy having, as stated, given up
, her berth to Frank, slept in a room next to that
"  of the stewardess. Before night the injured
" ' ~hoy had stopped raving, and ad sunk into a

deep slumber. From this he did not awake un-
' \. til morning, when he was able to rise, and ap-
- . peered so be as well as ever.
E . B A good breakfast was prepared for him and
“' en.

“ Hev the weather cleared yeti” inquired the
hunter_ of the young captain, after the meal

 

‘ I

was finished. .
- “ It will n be clear,” answered Dirk, dryly,
7, “ as he wenfideck.
2;. Ben and nk also went up, and as the mist
' ' was blown away, they saw the land about half
3 '. a. league distant oi! the lee bow.

_ , “There is the canoe, now, with the Sea-Mole
- * in itl” said Frank pointing out the light vessel
f- and its occupant, close inshore.

“We would like to go ashore,” the hunter
said to Dirk, who stood not far cfl’.
" ,. “Would you? Well, you shall be accommo‘
:' _ ’2 v, ‘ dated,” answered the captain, with a peculiar

" . smile.
i 7, He then gave orders to his mate to back the
" , msintopsail, and to lower a boa .

t
.1- " , As the two boys stepped into the boat, Lucy
h ‘ 'came to say good- y. _
'- Dirk then placed himself in the stern-sheets,
and ave the command to pull ahead.

" bich way are ggu going!” inquired Frank,
noticing that the at.was headed toward a.
point, not far from which a number of Indian
tents could be seen.

“Beggars mustn’t be choosers,” answered

irk.

“ What in thunder do yer mean i” cried Ben.
\ ’ “ Aren’t it 'est as easy to land us further down-
 the coast) hem tents. of I aren’t mistook. is a.

 

i

 

camp of the Flatheads, which arn’t over friend~
ly to this child.”

“We are not going to land you among the
Indians,” replied Dirk. “You’ l see where we
are going to place you before long.”

The boat was headed for a group of rocks,
about twenty fathoms from the shore. Finally
it grated against one of the rugged masses, and
the boys were then told that they might step
out of the boat.

Ben said he would prefer being taken ashore
further down to being left here on the rocks.

“We haven’t the time,” answered Dirk.
“We will not pull a. fathom furtherl"

“ Seems to me you’re a mean sort 0’ var-
mint,” said Ben. “How are we to git ashore,
with them Injuns watcbiil’ us’l They’re my
mortil enemies, as I told you afore.”

“If you don’t get out of the boat, we will
pitch you on the rock!” cried Dirk.

“ Yer better try itl” said Ben, fiercely. “ By
the ’tarnall ef you lay a hand on me, I’ll t’ar
yer heart out!”

Dirk drew a pistol, and an aflra would
doubtless have ensued but for the sai ors, who
advised the hunter to step quietly out of the

at.

As the (young captain had pocketed his
weapon an sat down, Ben was tinall per-
suaded to leave the vessel. Frank fo lowed
him, and the boat was ulled back toward the
schooner, Dirk meanwhi e watching through a.
small spy-glass the distant canoe containing the
Wakash.

“ I see through the varmint,” said Ben to his
companion. “He has put us hyar so that he
kin have a. better chance to track that Injun
and get to the gold cave, ’fore we do!"

“Yes,” said Frank, “that is his intention
[have no doubt, but I hops the Wakash will
balk him.”

h Bgn looked toward the camp of the Flat-
ea s.

“I b’lieve them niggers sees us,” he said
“but the won’t try to come out hyar until
dark, E you war stron er, we mou’t swim
ashore, ’fore they come, bu yer’s too weak fur
that, yet.”

“I can try,” said Frank.

“ No, no, it won’t do; er’s not fit fur it,” an-
swered Ben, surveying t e pale face or his com-
panion.

The boat, soon after, reached the schooner
which was then headed for the canoe contain-
ing the Wakash. A fog finally hid the vessel
and also the Sea-Molds little craft from the gaze
of the two boys.

“Think I see somethin’ comin’ this way,” said

Ben, two hours later.

“ It is a. boat, With some one in itl” cried
Frank.

The wind was blowing almost a gale, and as
the sea was heavy, the person in the boat had
difficulty in working the craft.

“A gal, shore as you’re alivel” said Ben, a
few minutes later, as the light craft, emerging
from the thin strip of mist which had hitherto
partly concealed it, was now distinctly seen.

“ It is Lucy Loomis, the girl who was so kind
to us aboard the schooner,’ remarked Frank.

“ Yer’s rizhtl What kin 'hev brouzht her

—< *4...» .

      
  

s!

 
   
   
 

 
 

 

Hunter-Paul Bed‘ 9

 

hyar, all alone. in that boat?” The latter was a.
small one, evidently the ca tain’s gig, and Lucy
was trying to scull it. Al at once, when she
was about five fathoms from the boys, the little
craft was swept by a sea against a half-sunken
rock and was overturned. The girl thrown into
the water, tried to seize the boat, but she was
borne off by a huge wave.

Ben and Frank, with some difiiculty, finally
contrived to rescue her.

“We are so glad we have saved you,” said
Frank. “It was dangerous for you to venture
out in a boat, in such weather.”

“I would have got along well enough but for
that sunken rock,” she answered.

“ But what made yer leave yer schooner!" in-
quired Ben.

“Because Dirk put you here with no means
of getting on shore,” was the reply. “Finding

hat I could not prevail on him to go back and
and you on a better place, I had the gig

Wered and came myself.”

“ It’s a wonder the mean raskil let you go."

“ He did not know it. 1 had the boat lowered,
and put of! while he was below. I heard him
calling to me to come back, a minute after, but
I did not answer him. Whether he tacked ship
to try to overtake me, or not, I could not tell
on account of the to?”

Ben inspected the ittle boat.

“ Thar’s a. bad hole stove in the bottom,” he
said. “We kin make no use of the craft, at

resent. It wouldn't carry three on us twenty-

ve yards, ’thout sinkin’, and the shore’s a mile
011. it war stove on the sunken rock, and we
hev stove it worse in landing. We kin do noth-
in’ with the boat, hyar.”

“Never mind,” said Lucy, “ I am in hopes
that, when the fog clears we will see some one
to come and take us off.” _

“Don’t know ’bout that,” said Ben, “ this
part of the coast are pooty lonesome, But don’t
grieve over it, miss,” he added, noticing the girl’s
look of dismay, “ et thar’s any posserble why to
git, yer from hyar, me and my pard Will do
1

Toward night the fog cleared, and .the gale
abated. Far away, almost out of eight, the
schooner was seen, apparently heading north-
ward, along the coast.

Suddenly Lucy uttered a. cry of fear, as a.
canoe, containing a. savage, emerged from
behind a rock, about twenty yards off.

The savage, short, stout and bow-legged, wore
fringed leggins reaching to the waistz above
which he was naked. In a belt about his.waist
were a. knife and tomahawk, and he carried an
old rifle on his back. The flatness of the In-
dian’s skull, together with the red and blue
marks of paint on his face, gave him the ap-

rance of some hideous reptile.

“ Hillol it are Spotted Turtle,” cried Ben, the
moment he caught sight of the Indian, The
latter no sooner saw Ben, who had hitherto
been hidden from his gaze by a. rock, than
he uttered a grunt, and dodged back behind
the _rugged projection from which he had
emer ed.

“ e knows me of old ” remarked the hunter.
“ Fact is, I killed one 0’ his tribe on my last day
’monz the Cascades! The chap war Rein’ to

 

steal my rifle While I war asleep, but I woked
up and we clinched, when of course thar war a
skrimmage, and I had to kill the nigger to pur-
vent his puttin’ his knife in m gimrd. Sense
then, the vurmints hev, I reckin‘, been keepin’ a
kind 0’ track 0’ me.”

As Ben spoke the head of the savage wal
thrust from behind the rock. v

“Ugh! the Spotted Turtle would speak toth
white hunter.

“ Well, what hev yer to say?” inquired Ben.

“The boys have a. girl with them, and they
want to get ashore?”

“Right, thar, ‘Spot,’ ” answered Beaver.

“ Spotted Turtle will take them ashore if the
hunter will promise not to fire upon him." . a

“ That’s all very well at yer war honest ’bout
it, but don’t I know that ye’d hev a cell
ff  niggers on us the moment we te’che the
an ‘

“ The hunter doubts the Indian‘s word. Lookl
he can see for himself.” and the speaker point-
ed toward the place where the the tents had
been,dbut from which they had now disap

eare .
p “ Seems to me er’s mou’ty frien’ly all at
once, lnjun,” said en.

“ Indian always friend. Why think not
friend? Because the white hunter kill the
Snake Eye? Ugh! Snake Eye no friend of
Spotted Turtle. Him been steal rum irom
Turtle—him great thief—none ol‘ tribe like.”

“That’s bosh! Tell me I don’t know Injun
natur’—ailers life fur life I” ' '

“ But Snake-Eye not one of tribe—only half.
Him father Cayuse.” 

“ I would u’t trust the Indian,” said Frank.

“ I reckin he are up to some tric .” answerpd
Ben, “but, of I kin sarcumvent him, I mou’t
git ersession of the canoe, which would come
use iii.” The young trapper, as he spoke, mot.
tioued to Spotted Turtle. .

“Come on!” he shouted. “I’ll try yer, arid ’
see of yer kin be depended on.” ,r’
F “ lion are not going in his canoe!" ‘Iaid

ran . .

“Thar’s 'est it—I are!” /

“ I woui like to go with you, then.”

$310, you must stay hyar to take kser of the ‘
ga .

Spotted Turtle came alongside of the rock.

“ Why not all go?” he inquired, as only Ben
step )ed into his craft. '
“ ’m goin’ ashore with yer first to see'how
things look.” said Ben. I .
“ Find all right," answered the savage, as be,

seized his paddle.

The next moment his vessel was rapidly
shooting toward the shore. ,

 

CHAPTER V.

warn. .

Tim shadows of night were deepening as the
canoe drew’ near the land. Not far from the
beach there was a small ridge of earth, and
upon this Ben ks ta teadfast gaze. Spotted
Turtle sitting wit hi back to his companion,
still plied the paddle, apparently not noticing
him. although. in reality, he now and then

; glanced toward him. To do this he was obliasd

a
\

/

 

 

    

Hunter-Part! Ben.

 

to half—turn his head—a movement which did
not escape the watchful eye of the hunter.

“ Thar doesn’t seem to be no one ashore thar,"
said Ben. “ P'r’aps ,yer’ve told the truth, Spot,
fur once in yer life.’

“Indian always tell truth. NOW we close to
shore. Will my white brother land, or is he
satisfied, and shall we go back for the others?”

“ I reckin I’d better land, and look about me
a bit,” answered Ben.

The Indian directed the canoe to the beach.

“ Will in white brother go first?" inquired
the savage, caning back so as to give him room

to pass.
‘ Don’t know as I’m partik’lar,” was the re-

pl .

The hunter had scarcel spoken, when, as
quick as thought, the In ian drew his toma-
hawk and struck at his head.

Ben, however, was repared for this move-
ment. Be dodged the low, and with his knife,
which he had previously pulled, unperceived,
from his belt, be aimed a stroke at his opponent.
The Indian avoided it by throwing himse f back
Into the water. At the same moment there was
a yell from the direction of the ridge of earth,
and dusky forms came bounding toward the
canoe. Spotted Turtle grasped the light vessel
by the stern, with both hands, and held onto it;
but he let 0 his hold as the muzzle of Ben’s rifle
was points at his head, and dropped into the
water. Ben did not fire, as the savage under
the water would probably have avoided his
shot. Seizing the paddle, he directed the canoe
away from the beach toward the rocks where
he had left his friends. He heard the oils of
the baffled Indians behind him, and aso the
whizzing of some shots which were fired at him.
The gloom of night was now so deep that Ben
could hardly see the forms of Lucy and Frank,
who were anxiously watching the dim outline
of the approaching craft. He was soon on the
rock relating his adventure.

“ What a narrow escape," said Lucy.

“ Sech thin happens often," answered Ben,
carelessly. “ ow we must kee a good look-
out fur the varmints, fur they ev other ca-
noes, ef I’m not mistook. The fast thing to do
are to git away from hyar. Are there any par-
ti’kler place yer’d like to go to?”

“I live in Victoria, on Vancouver’s Island,”
the girl answered. “It is a long way off; but
perhaps we will fall in with the schooner, and
then you can place me aboard of her.”

“1 ho we will fall in with the craft,” said
Frank; ’ for Victoria is many miles from here,
and I would not have you exposed to the hard

ships on the way.”
‘ I em strong and healthy," ansW' ' Lucy.
“As to being left in one of the se ants, i

would prefer not to be, as 1 am in a i. . ;j to go
direct to my aunt, to let her know of uncle’s
death."

The three were soon in the canoe. Ben and
Frank took paddles, while Lucy kept a look-

out.

“I think the Indians are after us," she said
pointing astern, where the outlines of several
canoes and their occupants were visible through
the gloom.

As she spoke. the report of rifles runs upon

the air, and several shots passed over the heads
of the three.

“ They will overtake us ” said the girl.

“ No, don’t be afeared, ’ said Ben. “Thar,”
he added, pointing out the lights of a small set-
tlement near the coast, far ahead, “is a place
which the varmints will not hear to pass, seein’
as thar’s a small fort that.”

The pursuing Indians soon gave up the
chase.

Far ahead a light was visible on the water.

“ I think that is the schooner,” said Lucy.
" The light seems to be approaching. I believe,
how that the wind has enabled him to put the
vessel about, that Dirk is looking for me. ’

Frank and Ben continued to ply the paddle.
As the light drew nearer the t ree felt confl
dent that it did not come from the schooner. It
wasfound to proceed from acanoe, in which the
outline of a human form was dimly visible.

“ Halloa tharl Who are you!” called Ben.

There was no reply.

The three were finally near enough to see, by
the gleam of a lantern in the canoe, the visage
of the Wakash.

“ What on airth’s the matter with the poor
critter?” cried Ben.

As the two canoes touched each other the boys
perceived that the Sea-Mole was lashed to one of
the thwarts, that his head hung upon his breast,
and that he was senseless. .

‘_‘ Some one has given him a blow "said Frank,
pointing out a bruise upon his fore ead.

“ Thar’s a. fact,” said Ben. “ We must try to
bring him to.”

He took a flask of brandy from his pocket and
rubbed some of the liquor over the forehead of
the Indian, who soon after opened his eyes.

He stared wildly about him.

“Where are bad white men?” he in uired. be-
wildered. “You are not bad ones. on give
Indian plenty eat.”

“ Who were the bad men you speak ofi” in-
quired Frank.

“‘Aboa rd schooner ” was the answer. “ Schoo-
ner come and chase Wakash, and catch 11 with
him. Then men lower boat and go to “yakash
and want him to tell where they find gold cave!
Wakash say not tell, for he not want them to
know. Not want such men in the home of the
Sea-Mole. They would drive him from his cave,
and he would never find another like it.”

“ You war right not to tell the raskils, which
I reckon war Dirk and his people."

“ Yes, it must have been they,” said Lucy.

.“ When Wakash not tell.” continued the In-
dian, “ white man get mad and commence to
beat. They beat him hard and they tie him to
canoe, and let drift away i”

The bright eyes of Lucy flashed indignantly.

“ I. never want to see Dirk again, after his
provmg to be such a brute,” she said. “ I never
liked him, although he is a. distant relative of
mine, but now I detest him.”

Frank was not sorry to hear her talk in this
way. The loveliness of the girl, and her gentle
manners, had won his admiration from the first,
and he was glad to learn that she was not at-
tached to the dashing-looking young captain of
1 the schooner.

“ Yer’s bad off, Sea-Mole." said Ben to the

 

     

gellw  r ‘ ;

Hunter-Part1 Ben. 9

 

Indian, “ and yer need rest and refreshment.
Whar war yer during the gale?”

“In old hut, wh’ere sometimes stop. Me
staid there and waited until storm was ovar."

“ Is that hut near hyar?"

“Think so,” replied the Wakash, as he gazed
toward the shore.

“ Well, then we‘ll go tliar, and pass the
night. The ga would like some rest, too.”

‘ Will we not he attacked there by the
savages?” inquired Lucy.

“ I don’t think so; we‘ll keep a good lookout.”

The canoes were directed to the beach and
were concealed among some rocks. Then a
search was made for the but, which was soon
discovered. Ben madea couch of a rubber
blanket for Lucy, who was to occupy the but,
and the tired girl soon fell into a deep slumber.

 

CHAPTER VI.
ran CAPTURE.

“NOW, then, Frank and Wakash,” said
Ben, “ yer‘d better lie down thar, and git a
harp]. while I keep watch.”

e pointed toward a green bank, which
would shelter the two from the strong sea-
breeze while they slept.

The Wakash at once set down by the bank,
and commenced to hum over a Wild melody,
meanwhile beating the ground with his heels.

“Come, go to sleep,” said Ben. “Hyar's a
piece oi! meat i’ur yer, though, ’fore yer close
yer eyes.” He tossed him a strip of venison,
which the savage greedin devoured, after
which he lay down and dropped 03 into a deep
slumber. Frank also went to sleep, while Ben
with his ride over his shoulder walked toand
fro, keeping a good lookout.

A few hours later he awoke Frank to take his
turn at watching.

The boy soon heard the heavy breathing of
thle young hunter, indicating that he was
as eep.

An hour after, just as the light of dawn was
blending with the passin shadows, he fancied
he saw a dark form stea ing along behind the
bank toward the sea-shore. He ran toward it,
to discover that it was the Wakash.

“Where are you going to!" called Frank.

“ Going to gold cave. Been away too long 1”

As he spoke the Indian sprung upon the rocks
and pulling forth his canoe, was soon in the light
craft, speeding away to the north. .

The boy aroused Ben and told him that the
Wakash was off.

“We must foller him soon as we kin,” said
the hunter.

 

Lucy was aroused, and a hasty breakfast of
venison and com-cake having been partaken of,
the three entered their canoe, which was direct-
ed toward the receding one of the Indian.

The can of the coast along which they now .
proceeded, was bordered by low hills, some of l
which were covered with trees.

All at once, as the pursuin canoe was pass-
ing a projecting point of Ian overgrown With
buslws, the branches of which, in someplaces,
h-iug over the water, a spear, hurled With tre-
mendous force from the shrubbery. passed slant-

1 either of Ben or

ingly through the light vessel, pinning it to the
bank it was passing.

In a moment Ben raised his rifle and fired,
when a savage of the Flathead tribe leaping up,
rolled down the bank into the water, w th a
bullet throu h his brain.

“ Jump as lore, Frank, and‘ keep clue to the
gal l” shouted the hunter. “ The canoe are a.
gone case now. Look out fur the varmints, and -
don‘t let ’em tech a hair of the young lady’s
headl”

As he spoke Ben. sprung to land and com-
menced to reload his piece. Frank followed
with Lucy, his rifle held ready for service.

“ Where are the Indians?” he inquired, as Ben
moved on.

“ They’re right ahead, of I aren’t mistook.
Hyar’s where we must make a stand and do the
best we kin!”

He halted on a small hill, upon which were ’ >
the trunks of several trees which had been tell- .

“I see no lndians,” said Frank, smiling.
“Don’t you think we havepbeen a. little too
hasty? Suppose we go back and try to plug
up the hole in the canoe made l) the spear.’

“It would take hours to ma e the craft fit
for sarvice,” answered Ben. “ Thar’s lnjuns in
that holler, ’mon st the bush,” he added, point-
ing to a small va ley, below the spot on which
the three stood.

As he spoke a dozen savages, who had hither-
to lain hidden, probably in the hope that the
whites would come that way, sprun up yelling
like fiends, and, keeping them ves partly
speltered by the trees, made a rush up‘the
s o e.

‘ Don’t fire,” said Ben as Frank was about to
pull trigger. “Wait till they git nearer.” ,

Some of the Indians who had rifles disch
their weapons. but the breastwork of f on
trees saved the little party from bein hit. .

Watching his chance, Ben suddeny sent a
shot at a sava e who had leaned over from be-
hind a tree. he bullet struck the Indian in the
shoulder, causin him to drop his piece which
he had been in t e act of pointing at the

The band retreated, and again ensconced
themselves in the hollow. ‘

“They kin come up hyar only in front,” sci
Ben. “fur the hill are too steep to be clombed
on do her side.” -

Night came, and still not a savage showed
himself.

The boys were leaning over the edge of the
hill, peerin down into the hollow, and Lucy
was only a. ew aces ofl, standing on the edge
of the slope, w on the soft ground gave way
under her feet, and she was precipitated for-
ward. She caught at a tree, a few yards below

, the summit of the hill, and was about turning

to retrace her way, when a hand was slapped I
over her mouth, and she was hurried by strong
hands into the hollowl A v ,

All this transpired without the knowledge
Frank, who were still gazing
seaward. There was a high wind and the
rustling of the trees prevented the boys from
hearing the stealthy footsteps of their toes as
they made of! with the girl.

The darkness of the night was sode that.

\

 

  

Hunter-Paid Ben.

 

when at length Duo ’8 abductors paused, she
could hardly see the orms ot the savages who
now confronted her.

Several minutes later the boys discovered the
absence of the girl.

V.“Hilloa! a precious pair 0’ coons we’ve been
to ’low that gal to be taken from almost under
our ,noses," said Ben. “I never felt more
ashamed o’ in self in my lifel”

“You, thingthe savages have taken her off?”
said Frank.

“Sartint—who else?” replied Ben, calmly.

“Good Godl then she will be scalped,” cried
Frank; “Come, we must rescue her, if we die
in the attempt,” he added, seizing the hunter’s
arm.

“Easy, thar, easy," cried Ben. “We kin do
no good goin’ ’mong the varmints in that way.
They won’t harm the gal—leastwmys, not fur

I the present. They hev got her fur a sort 0‘

\

hostage."

“You are not going to leave her in the hands
of those wretches?” said Frank.

“ For the present—yes. They‘ll not harm
her. yer kin take 111 word fur that.”

Never before he a night seemed so long to
Frank. He could not sleep, but with Ben
'walked to and fro, keeping a sharp watch.

Just at dawn halt a down Indians appeared

' at the foot of the hill with the girl, whoma

savage held by each arm.
Spotted Turtle being one of the party, acted

‘ ‘ass okesman.

.6 pointed at the girl, and said in aloud

Olce'
“The white boys have sleepdy souls. We took
the girl irom their very. si s: It was well

V

’_ done!”

Jere onpossihle to do as

' ages yelli g with rage,ldarted after er.
, raising h?

- the answer of the Whitefiunter.”

“ Better send her back ag’ini” shouted Ben.
“ Yer kin hev nothin’ ag’in’ her i”

“ The Indian does not want the scalp of a
white squaw—that is true,” answered S otted
Turtle. “Neither does he want to lose is re-
ven e. Two of our braves have alread fallen
by t e rifle of the White Hunter, and his blood

_ must pay for it! It he will give himself u to
' the Indians, they will let the girl go, an the

other white boy, too. If he refuse. then the
scelg‘ of the white girl shall hang at Spot-
ted urtle’s belt. Ihave said it. Let me hear

‘ “ Well, Spot, all I kin say is that yer’ve put
it down in partectlv plain terms, but they's
mon’t hard onesl Fur the sake of the gel,
thong , Idon’t know but I’ll close with yer of-

“ No—nol” cried Lucy. “Let no life be sacri-
ficed for my sake. I am not afraid to die.”
,Luc who now found herself momentarily

' fer l” r

‘ ,i‘reed y her captors, moved toward up the hill.

Determined, however, that the hunter should

‘ not sacrifice himself for her, she turned when

she had advanced a few steps, and ran through
the shrubbery toward the see.

“That’s a misfortune!” cried Ben. “The

1‘ al has sp’iled alll I had a plan fur savin’

’ er, t out makin’ an sacrifice, but now it
wanted to.”

When Lucy ran into the shrubber , the gav-

en,

a rifle .Ith  he foremost one. then-

v . \

 

followed by Frank, he strove to get round to

head the girl oil'.

The Indians endeavored to shoot down the
boys, but their bullets -went wide of the mark,
as the two Wore partly hidden by the trees and
the bushes. The lads ran on but they saw noth-
ing of the girl.

‘ Hyar’s a puzzle!" cried Ben, when the two
gained the water-side. “The tracks hev
stopped hyar. I’m mou’ty afeared the poor gal
hev throwed herself into the sea and been
drowndedl"

The mist so thickly covered the ocean, that
the two could not see four yards ahead of them.

All at once, something was noticed by the
hunter on top of the water.

“ It are so,” he said, mournfully, “ thor’s the
hat she wore, floatin’ along! P'r’aps, ef we go
out in the canoe, we’ll see the body!”

The canoe was close at hand, still fastened to
the bank by the spear, which had been darted
through it. Ben, followed by Frank, sprung
into it, and, pulling out the weapon, paddled
the light vessel awn from land, just as the
pursuing Indians arrlved within a few yards of
the beach.

“ The craft won’t float long,” said Ben, “ but
we kin keep it up long enough to look fur that
poor critter’s body 1”

. CHAPTER VII.
THE SEA mom‘s REVENGE.

LIGHT and swift of foot, Lucy, when she
darted into the shrubbery, made straight for
the beach. _

ArriVed here, she crouched behind a rock,
expecting to be soon recaptured by the savages.
While she was listening to their yells and ap-
proaching footsteps, she suddenly felt a hand
upon her arm, and, turning, was surprised to
behold the Sea-Mole, who had just shot along-
side of the beach in his canoe.

“Come,” he said. “The Wakash will keep
the girl, if he cannot save her friends, too. Get
into the canos.” i

Lucy stepped into the light vessel. and, a mo-
ment later, the craft was several fathomsfrom
the shore, speeding on.

“ The white girl is safe,” said the Wakash.

Just then a. puil.’ of wind blew Lucy’s hat
from her head.

“ Let the hat goi” said the Sea-Mole. “We
can not stop to pick it up, now, for the Flatheads
are coming.” .

“1 wish you could save my friends,” cried
Lucy. with much concern. “I am afraid the
savages will now capture them.” V

“The Wakash cannot stop. The Flatheads
would see his canoe, and the white girl would
again be taken.”

The speaker continued to vigorously ply his
paddle, and the canoe soon was severe miles
further up the coast.

“Harkl” sail Lucy, “I think I hear some
vessel near us."

The hull and masts or the schooner appeared,
followed by the hail of “ Boat ahoyl”

“ It is Dirk who hails us,” said Lucy.

The craft came rushing on.

“Halloal here She is, at last. in the cameo; ,

       
   
   
   
  
   
    
  
  
  
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
  
      
 
   
   
   
   
    
  
 
   
   
  
   
   
 

 

      



.L.‘

Hunter-Para Ben. I l

 

that confounded Indian,” cried Dirk, looking
over the rail.

A boat was speedily lowered.

It dashed alongside of the canoe, and Dick,
who was in it. made a furious blow with his
clinched fist at the head of the ‘Wnkash.

It would have taken effect had not Lucy
pushed the arm aside.

“Shame on you!” she said. “ You shall not
strike him.”

“What does this mean?" cried Dirk, in a
rage. “ Here I’ve been looking for you for
many long hours, and at last I find you in the
canoe of this accursed nigger.”

“ I don’t know as I um under your control,"
said Lucy, with [lashing eyes. “The fact of
your being a distant relative of mine gives you
no authority ovar me!” ~

“ I did not mean tint,” said Dirk. “You
must know that your absence has worried me
agreat deal. I Suppose you are willing to come
aboard?"

_ “I would prefer to remain where I am were
it not for the trouble I give the Indian," an-
swered Lucy.

“ He must come aboard, too.
something for him to do.”

The canoe was towed alongside of the schoon-
er, and, in spite of his entreaties and those of
Lucy, the savage was made to step aboard.

“ I would not have thought you would have
served me so,” said Dirk to Lucy, the moment
she was in the cabin. “ Why did you go away
from the schooner, and what has become of the
boat?”

As briefly as possible the girl ex lained.

“ So you rescued those confoun ed boys from
the rocks,” said Dirk, between his teeth. “ I
Eopg  Heaven they are scalped by those Flat-

ea i

“We must go and try to help them. You
have arms aboard, and a. good crew of half a
dozen men.”

“ No, thank you. They’ll get no help from
me. I cannot spare the time to help them even
it I wanted to. The craft was due at Victoria
before this.” -

So saying, Dirk went on deck, leaving Lucy
to repair to her room, and make such changes in
her toilet as were necessary, after the hardships
she had lately undergone.

Dirk now walked forward to the Wakash,
who was being laughed and jeered at by the
sailors.

“Well, you dirty scamp. how did you like
your heating the other night!” inquired the
captain.

“Not like. Captain hurt poor Wakash on
head very much. Head pnin him now.”

“ You deserved your heating for your ob-
stinacy. I hope it has taught you a lesson, and
that you are now willing to pilot us to that
gold cave of yours.”

1‘ Yes, it no beat any more.”

“ .I Will not beat you it you keep your word.
Which way shall we head to reach the cave?”

“Can’t tell with schooner. Could tell with
canon.”

. “ Well, then, how would you head if you were
in, vour canoe?" ‘

We may have

 

The Indian pointed oi! the lee-bow.

“All right, said Dirk. Heat once had the
yards trimmed, and the craft headed in the di— ~
rectiou given.

Meanwhile a careful watch was kept u on the
movements of the Indian, to prevent his eaping
overboard or taking to the canoe.

“ The wind is favorable,” said Dirk to the
dusky pilot. “How far do you reckon we are
from the Straits of Fuca’l”

“ Think about forty mile,” replied the savage,
“ but can’t tell sure, on account of so- much

H

x.

“I hope it will soon clear. Will we have to “H
pass through the straits to get to your gold
cave?

“The Walmsh not like to tell. Bumbye you
get to cave, and then you can see.”.

All day long the Sea-Mole remained on deck, , . . »
directing the course of the craft. His meals I . ,
were brought to him by the cook, and Lucy” , "
sent him hot chocolate and coffee. _ .

As night came, the wind freshened almost tor

ale. ,2
g‘ I think we had better take in some of our
canvas,” remarked the (young captain.

“No, better not,” sai the Wakash, “ want all ’
wind can get.” \ . J,“
Dirk kept his canvas standing and went be!

low, leaving orders with his mate to take in sail
if the gala increased. , ,
The crew of this schooner were always ready,
when opportunity offered, to Shirk their duty.
The lookout man was soon fast asleep on the
knightheads, and the sailors who watched the
Sea-Mole concluded that they would also take a
nap. They procured ropes with which they
lashed the Wakash to the Windlass, havmg first _ {-
searched him to make sure that he had no knife I 
about his person. Then they stretc ed them- __ ,
selves on deck, and soon were in a esp slum- Hg
her. The eyes of the Indian twinkled like “
sparks of fire through the gloom." Hamng
made sure that the men were asleep. he pulled 7
a clasp-knife from a concealed p-‘cket in the r‘ r' -
cloth about his loins, and severed the cords hold-,. I 7
ing him to the Windlass. ,
‘White girl been good to Waknsh,” he‘ mute
tered, “don’t want hurt come to her.’ ‘ _  x, j
As lightly and stealthin as a cat, he dropped 
into the hold, and stole ofl? toward the cabin, '
which was reached by a door in a bulkhead. . ‘
“Very good. Wakash once been aboard
schooner as sailor.” he muttered as he ere t 
along, “schooner like this one. The Sea-M99 *  
knows more than the white man thinks? ‘
Having reached the bulkhead, he naiselessly

     
 
 
      
  
 
 

i

opened the door there and stole into the cabin. 34,;

Lucy was Seated in her room, reading, when
she heard a light tap at her door. .

She opened it. to see the Indian. ’

“ Never reach Victoria ’board schooner,” he _ l
said, a. wild, peculiar look on his face. ‘fIn'
two minute go to pieces I” a ,-

“What do you mean?” gasped Lucy, startc /

 

in .

§1ven as she spoke, the shrieking voice of the
mate was heard above:

“ Hard-s-portl Rooks close ahead 1” I

“ Come!" cried the savage,seizing the girl’s ,

 

     

    
    
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
    
   
   
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
    
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
     
   
 
 
  
  
   
     
   

moment, he had pull

.12

  

Hunter-Part! Ben. ’

 

arm and drawing her to the open cabin window.
“ Come, tow astern, and we get in. Then we
all safel”

He pulled on the warp of the light vessel un-
til the latter was close under the window.

The sound of several voices, and the hurried
trampling of feet on deck, betokened that all
the men there were awake and conscious of
their danger.

The savage urged Lucy to get into the canoe,
but while he was speaking to her, Dirk, awak-

ened by the noise above his head, came out and

saw the Indian.

The latter waited no longer. He s rung
through the window, into the canoe, an pad-
dled swiftly off in the gloom. When he had
proc"eded about ten fathoms, be suspended his
paddle and listened.

A long, grinding crash, followed by the noise
of failingmasts and by gurgling shrieks, indicat-

’ cdthat the craft had struck

The Wakash gave utterance to a shrill, nu-
earthly langh of triumph.

“Goodl” he exclaimed, “schooner now on
rocks, and some of white men get drown. Hope
ca tain drawn for heat poor Indian l”

y the flash of the vessel’s lantern. the speak-
er could see that the hull had split forward,

‘ and that fragments of the craft were being
tossed about, thumping violently against the

rooks. He could also make out the despairing

 faces of some of the crew, as they were borne

ofl. clinging to pieces of wood.

,The crashing of the breaking schooner against
the rocks, was blended with half-smothered
voices for a, few minutes: then nothing was to

I . be heard save the dull roar of the seas against

the rugged masses.

The savage now paddled toward the rocks

“ White girl go too,” he muttered. “It was
too bad, but the Indian must have his revenge.
He tried to save girl, but girl would not go
with him. That was not good.”

‘ ‘ The canoe was soon close to the rocks, from

which the broken hull of the schooner had

drifted of! in the gloom.

All atoms the Wakash fancied he heard a
faint cry, which seemed to come from the sea,

a, close to his canoe.

’1' he first object that met his gaze as he
looked, was a long mass of hair streamin out
on the water, then he saw a pair of arms c asp-

» inga floating piece of timber.

e gave a yell 0! 0y.
“ It is the white girl ” he cried, and, the next
d her into the canoe.

/

CHARTER VIII.

' A means.

FRANK and Ben, when they found that they
could not discover Lucy's body, really feared
that she had been drowned.

“No use of lookin’ any more,” said Ben.

 

_ “.an the canoe is filling and sinking fast,

and we must try to git ashore.”
The voices of the savages were heard along

"the l rncn.

“ The val-mints know we are out. hyar, some-

~ nhnr. LY‘ii that we must come ashore,” con-
- union B: n. “an’ they’re waitin’ fur us, but I’ll

halls 'em. el’ 1 kin.”

 

As he spoke he paddled the vessel several
fathoms nearer the shore, then he said to Frank:

“Now, purd, we must swim fur it.”

The two slipped into the sea, when Ben gave
the canoe a vigorous push toward the beach.

“ The raskils will see the canoe when it drifts
to the shore, and will think we are further up,
and thar‘s whar they’ll look fur us. Feller me,
and, we’ll git to land way below ’em, cf 1 know
myself.”

In about a quarter of an hour. the boys. who
were excellent swimmers, reached the shore.

They could now hear the voices of the Fiat-
heads many yards above them.

“We’ll wade alongshore to hide our trail,"
said Ben.

They kept along in this way for about a mile.

Then they paused on a rock for rest.

About a nul.ute had passed, when the young
hunter sprung to his feet.

“ The varmints suspect thetrick we’ve played
’em," he said, “and they’re arter us."

The two hurried on. to finally reach a thickly
wooded hill, about which many fragments of
rocks were piled.

Here they halted and partook of breakfast,
after which they kr pt steadily on, now and than
pansing to peer through the fog, out on the wa-
ter. in the in pa of getting sight of the Wakash.

Toward night Ben suddenly stopped and
listened.

“I heard a noise like the sails of some vessel,”
said the hunter. “I’ll be dog-gone ef I don’t
think that Captain Dirk are somewhar 01! this
part of the coast with his schooner.”

The boys moved on, now ard then pausing to
listen to the flnpping of canvas, although. owing
to the fog, they could not see the craft from
which the noise came. Finally the wind fresh-
ened to a gale.

“Seems to me,” said Ben. “though I don’t
know much ’hout nautical affairs, that the craft
keeps pooty clus to the coast, as we kin still hear
the sound of the canvas.”

“ There is no danger, asthe wind is off-shore,”
said Frank.

“ Yes: but don’t ver know that thar’s rocks
ofl this shore, ’bout four miles ahead?”

" Captain Dirk, it it’s his schooner we hear,
knows enough to keep clear of them.”

“ l’m not so shore of that. I war told aboard
the era it that this war the {net lime that chap
hnd sailed cfl' lhis part 0’ the coast.”

The boys hnving proceeded a few miles fur-
ther, paused for the night in a small valley
sheltered by rocks.

The two took turns at watching.

Ben. who had the watch just before midnight,
was suddenly startled by a sort of crashin
noise in the distance. with which he imagine
he heard the shrieks of human beings.

“ Jest as I thought,” he muttered; “ that craft
has struck on them rocks oi! the coast; it’ll go
mortin hard with the crew in sech a gale. Frank
and Imust go and seeif we kin hel the r
mortals. though thar’s little chance 0 our oin’
much ’thout a boat.”

Be awoke Frank, and the twain hurried along
the coast.

As they moved on, Ben, suddenly turning,
neared thronzh the obscurity behind him.

I

«r —._.L . .

\

12 .f'.“

Hunter-Para Ben.

. 1.3

 

“ Thar's an Injun which hev spotted us,” he
said ‘ “ but the critter are movin away.”

“ ou think there is only one?”

“Yes; he has been sent to reconnoiter, and
hevin’ seen us, the pospec’ is that we’ll soon hev
a hull D'H'k of the vnrmints at our lvocls. Yer
better keep straight on‘, urd, while I go back a
little way and take a. look.”

He hurried oif, while his friend moved in the
opposite direction. Soon Frank found himself
among a. mass of rocks, which were difficult to
climb. It was a long time ere he assed these
obstructions. He paused and 100 ed behind
him, but as yet he could see no sign of Ben.

He walked slowly on, until at length, by the
roaring of the breakers and the glimpse he now
and then caught of the spray whirled high in
air, be judged he must be opposite to the spot
where the vessel had struck.

He looked carefully about him, and peered
through the gloom out upon the water, but he
gould see no sign of a wreck nor of any human

emg,

Several hours passed, and at length the gray
light of dawn began to break through the dark-
11655.

The fog having now partly cleared, the boy
could see fragments of wood here and there
among the rocks pro'ecting from the water
some fathoms 03. e climbed an elevated
point of land to obtain a better view, and as he
gazed far up the coast he beheld a canoe con-
taining two persons, moving rapidly along-
shore.

The craft was a mere speck upon the water,
but Frank imagined he could recognize one of
the occupants to be a. female.

“Who_ can she be?" he 8.3de himself. “I
wish Ben would come, so that we could follow
that canoe, for I’m pretty sure that the man in
it is the Wakash.”

As he spoke, he turned to look if Ben was
coming, when to his surprise, he beheld a fig-
ure close behind him.

“ Captain Dirk l” he cried, at once recognizing
the young skipper. . r

The latter had tied a kerchief, in lieu of a.
hat, about his head, and his clothe soiled and
torn, indicated that he had lately ad a hard
struggle for life. _

“ o you are here to gloat over my misfora
tunel" said Dirk.

“ I am here by accident,” replied Frank;
“and let me tell you that I am not one to ex-
ult over the misfortunes of my worst enem .”

“ All very proper to say,” sneered irk.
“But when I tell you that the schooner was
lost last night you will probably feel pleased.”

“ 0n the contrary, I am sorry for your loss.”

“ Oh, I lost nothing,” said Dirk. ‘_‘ The craft
was not my pro rty; she belonged mostly to
some agents in t e emplo of the Hudson Fur
Company, but was art y owned by Lucy
Loomis’s uncle when 9 was alivs, and l sup-
pose his niece was entitled to her share after his
death. The whole thing came of my trusting
that accursed Wakash as a pilot.”

“ The Wakash was aboard, them"

“ Yes; he came aboard yesterday with Lucy,
whom, it Seems he had rescued while she was
fleeing from Indians. I wish they had cut his
heart out."

‘ upon your knees l”

 

cried.

“You say Lucy was aboard? Where then is
she, now?" .
“Probably where the rest of my people are. J _,
I have seen none of them since the wreck, and I
ima inc all have been drowned but myselfl"
i “] est, then, after alll" cried Frank, despaih‘
ng v.

“It seems to me that you make a great fuss '
over the affair," said Dirk. “What was she to
you. that you are so troubled by her death?" 

“She was overythin to me—I mean I liked‘  - A
her better than any gir I ever saw before,” an- « , "
swered Frank. ‘ .

All at once a look of hope crossed his visage
as he gazed toward the distant canoe, for it 00- w
curred to him that the female there might be 
Lucy. saved from the fate of the other persons v “
aboard the schooner by the Wakash, after he ’.
had caused the craft to run on the rocks. 3

Dirk noticed the direction of his a gaze and ' »
looking the same way, he gave a. cry 0 ear-j

rise. ' . ‘
" ou think the person in that canoe is Lucy?“
he said. ' - t

“I don’t know what to think, but I hope it
ma prove to be Miss Loomis.” 

‘ Ay, and that cursed Wakash is there, tool”.
continued Dirk. “1’11 skin that follow alive,‘
when I get hold of him—that is after I havoj
first found out the secret of his gold cave. I.
suppose you are still hunting for that place, and?
thatly§unmean to follow the cancel”

0

 

 

   
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  

 

“ And Lucy Loomis—you mean tofollaw her, "
too, I suppose?" I ., -
“That is my own aflair.” ' 
“Not a. bit of it. Let me tell you that she ‘
was to marry me, by her uncle’s Wish." V - _ w
“But not by her own." . \ ' 1
“How do you know that!” cried Dirk, en-

raged. , 

“ I don’t know as I’m obliged toanswerevery l,
question you at to me,” said Frank.

“You shal answer me. Swear that you
will give up the gold cave and Lucy, too, or I’ll
make you rue itl” ‘ '

As he spoke he picked up Frank’s rifle, which :V
the boy had placed on a rock, near him, a few ‘  ,
minutes before, and, cocking the piece, aimed ‘ '
it at the lad’s head. ' , ’

“ Come, swear at once whatI want you to, ,
orql’ll shoot you deadl” continued the young
em or. . s 1“ .

The impudence and the domineering manner 3 ‘ ' -
of Dirk were exas rating. ..

“ Fool! you as too much,” said Frank.
“ Give me ack my rifle, or I’ll knock you'down

With a. fierce oath Dirk pulled the trigger of t
the weapon, but the owder havin been made" *
wet b the boy’s su mersion, wh n he, swam ,
with on from the canoe on the day before, the
ca did not explode it. ,

he oung sailor was about to club the piece '.\

for a b ow, when Frank struck him on the head, ‘

with his clinched fist. and at the same moflut,

wrenched the weapon from his grasp. h 1 v
t 8'

mgr]: drew a clasp-knife, and sprung
e.
“You shall not leave this plan alive!” he
Ashe bounded toqu Frank. whiten-m
,, .\

l \\.'

   

 
 

x‘

J l"!

i

w:

37..
,.

Li.
(a

, .

h, ’. » “ After this they’ll never give you another com-
mand.”

  

14

Hunt. r Para Rem

 

a blow at him with the stock of the rifle, which,
‘ however, the other dodged. '

Then, seizing the‘ boy by the throat, be en-
deavored to make use of his knife.

At such close quarters, Frank was obliged to
drop the rifle, anda struggle now took place.
At length, after receiving a few trifling cuts
about the shoulders and arms, Frank succeeded
in gettinfiluppermost, with his knees upon both

‘ wrists of is opponent.

Before he could wrench from his grasp the
knife which the sailor still held, two pairs of
strong arms tFulled him oil? the prostrate youth,

4 and he foun himself a prisoner among a party
of half a dozen Flatheads, who had stolen up,
unperceived by the combatants, during their
struggle.

S tted Turtle was one of these savages.

, “ ghl the whitebo is in our hands at last;

, but,‘.where is his frien , the White Hunter?”

" Herel let me get at himl” cried Dll‘k, who
had sprung up, 3 and I’ll save you the trouble

-. of scalpiug him.

.“ It must not be so. Spotted Turtle likes

l his awn scalps better. Go back, Water Hand
— 0 back!"

rank thus perceived that Dirk was known to

these sava es. with whom, in fact. he had often

‘ W traded, an who gave him the name of “Water
‘ Hand ” '

The. sailor sullenly drew back, as the Indians
motioned him away: but he followed them as
they led their captive elf.

 “ I would make sure that they scalp the young

rascal,” he muttered. “ There are so many set-
tlements springing u lately about these partsi

, that they may be a raid to kill him; but if

can bring it about by bribery or otherwisa, I
will do it!”
As the savages conducted the prisoner along

‘ the coast, Dirk made every efl’ort to persuade

them to scalp him at once, but he was unsuc-

’ mssful, and he at length turned sullenly away.

I

“i must not neglect'the canoe in which is the
'Wakash. Imust try and track the wretch' to
to gold cave,” he muttered, as he hurried
along. “A couple of miles from here there is
a Settlement where 1 can get rest, refreshments,
and some kind of a boat.” .

As he spoke, it chanced that he turned his

use to seaward, to behold a vessel about a

.  ' .Feague distant,l revealed by the partial clearing

.v
1

of the fog in t at direction.
“ I should know that craft,” he muttered.
“ It is the brig Maria—one of the company's ves-

' eels. Good! she is headin in the same direc-

tion taken by the Wakes , and if can get

4 ' aboard, I’ll be able to keep that Indian rascal in

si ht."
file at once signaled the vessel by waving his
,kerohief, and soon a boat was owered and
pulled to the shore.
. Dirk knew the omcer who headed the boat,

' and to him he described the loes of the com-

v’s schooner. '
l“HlI‘Unfortunate all round,” said his auditor.

"I don’t think I‘ll want any,” said Dirk, his

0 es' leamin as he thought of the gold cave.
YEA?! an hog; later he was aboard the brig.

‘i

 

CHAPTER IX.
FRANK’S PERIL.

FRANK was led by his savage captors a short
distance along the coast, after which the In-
dians turned off to the right.

When they had proceeded about four miles
they paused in a deep, wooded. glen, where the
rest of the tribe now were encamped.

The boy’s hands and feet rem bound with
ghongs, and he was made to .ic at the foot of a

ree.

A few hours later Spotted Turtle appeared
before him.

He made a sign to one of the younger savages
—a short, stout, dirty-looking person, with a
hideous head-dress, and with lis blanket hang-
ingvin tatters from his shoulders.

ith agrunt of satisfaction the young fel-
low drew his tomahawk, and bounded toward
the boy.

The deadly weapon was raised, and in an-
other second it would have cloven the lad’s
skull but for a deep, hoarse voice, which
came from the underwood only a few yards

off.

“ Hold, there! What yer goin’ to do? Leave
the lad alone 1”

At the same moment a stout, broad shouldered
man, wearing a beaver hat and the usual buck-
Skin garb of a hunter, strode for ward, followed
by half a dozen persons similarly clad.

"White boy and friend been shoot Indian
braves. Indian want revenge!”

“Nonsensel” said the white man.
going to have any seeh goin’s on.”

And as he spoke he drew his knife, with which
he quickly severed the lad’s bonds.

S otted Turtle’s eyes leamed like fire.

“ _ is is not right. he Flatbeads trade with
the Hudson Company, but they are not to step
between the Indian and his foe.”

“ No——.nol That is good!" echoedsome of the
other Indians.

" The _Long Tongue had better go his way and
leave the Indian to do what he wants with his
prisoner.”

“No,” answered Lon Tongue. “I’m bound
to help the poor boy. 9 must go free, or we
trade no more with the Flatbeads, and bring
them no more fire-water. Their furs shall rot
on their hands."

At this the savages exchanged glances.

They knew that Long Tongue, as they termed
him, was one of the most influential of the
Company’s traders, and they did not wish to
oppose him.

‘For the sake of the Long Ton e, we’ll let
the white he go,” said the cbie , who how-
ever, mental resolved that he would yet
have his life, if opportunity oflered. 1

Lon Tongue then took Frank’s arm, and as,
with is hunter companions following, be
moved on, the boy described to him his late
experiences. ' ,

“Ye’vc had a hard time, and no mistake. It
was lucky we comed upon yer, jest as them
fellows were goin’ to skin yer head. We ex-
pect a craft to take us to Victoria, and I’m
glad it wasn’t the schooner which was
wrecked.- Hilloal thar’s the craft, now. have

“ I’m not

to fur III of! the point of land. where it was _

I

\

   
 
    
  
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
   
   
 
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
 
    
   
   
    
  
  
  
     
   
     
    
     
  
  
 

-Nz

 
       
 

Hunter-Para Sam 15‘ I

 

agreed she should wait for us. We’ve been,
yer see, on an expedition ’mongst some of the
tribes to make terms with them for furs, and I
think we’ve di'uv a good bargain.”

‘The party had reached a hill, about two
miles from the coast, and they could plainly
see the Craft with her main-topsoil ubuck.

Lung Tongue signaled her, so that by the
he reached the beach, about from the vessel
was there in waiting for him.

In this bo‘at Frank was dismayed to see
Dirk, who sat near the oflicer in the stern-
sheets.

The young captain, seeing Frank alive and
well, uttered a cry of baffled rage.

As Tong Longue advanced to speak to the
mate, Dirk pointed to Frank.

“There he is—the very mutineer I told you
about !” he cried.

“ Is he the lad?” cried the mate.

“Yes. You better arrest him at once, or he
will take to his heels!”

The mate sprung forward and collared the
boy, who was at the some time seized by two of
the other men, who had been in the boat.

“What does this meant” said Frank. “Do

on believe what that young villain saysl It is
also—every word of it.”

“ We have no reason to doubt Captain Dirk l"
said the mate. “Come, my young cove, you
don’t git off with any such cock-and‘bull
stor l.” .

“ on at least will believe me,” said Frank,
turning to Long Tongue. “ I repeat that every
word the fellow says is false. ,I was never
aboard his chooner as one of the c'rewyand if
any of the crew were living, they would tell
you that I speak the truth.” .

The hunter looked long and steadily at the
speaker. . _

“I can’t see why Captain Dirk should want
to purtend what aren’t true about you. I’m
afeared he’s right, youngster.” . I

All the remonstrances of the lad were in vain.
He was bundled into the boat, carried off to the
brig, and after being handcuffed, was thrust
into the dark hold.

Before night some sea—biscuits and a jug of
cold water were lowered to the rispner. As he
was very hungry, he partook 0 this hard fare
with some relish. _

For hours he was unable to compose himself
to sleep, but at last he dropped into an uneasy
slumber.

It was about midnight, as well as he could
judge, when’ he was awakened by a clear, ring-
i'ng voice, which he at once recognized.

It was that of Lucy Loomis.

“How came she here?” muttered the b0 .
“She seems to be directly over me. on .dec ,
and, if I can make myself heard, I Will be
iuickly freed from this disagreeable lace.

ucy will soon give the mate and others a card
the craft to understand that Dii'k’s statement
was false.”

He shouted with all his might,_but the wind
was blowing hard, and the neises made by
waves and creaking timbers prevented his vows
from being heard by the young girl. .

“She is one—probably into the cabin,”
thought Fraiizk.

l

 

He cre t along a few feet. but he met with a
bulkhea , which barred his further progress.

Suddenly he beheld a dark form in the hold.

“There is a young girl just come aboard and

now in the cabin, who wants to see you,‘ was ‘

spoken, in a hoarse voice.

f  Will you take me to her?” cried Frank, joy—
u v.

“That is why I’ve come here,” was the an.
SVVCI‘. ‘

“ Who are you?” inquired the boy.

“I am the second mate of this craft. The’
girl wants to see the mutinoer, whom‘she has
just heard is in irons, aboard this vessel."

“I am ready to go with you,” cried Frank.

“Come, then—folkm me.”

“Won’t you take OR my handcuffs first?” 1’

“ You ask too much, and I think Isee through -

yen. You want to try to escape from me.” v
on and I'll follow. The girl you speak of will
soon convince you that I am no mutineor."

“ Do you mean that?”

“I do. "

“ Then, by George! I’ll set you free-with my

own hands, if the mate refuses when your ilk r -
‘nocenoe is proved.”

“ It is not like]?r he’ll refuse?"

“ We shall see. ’

The speaker, who was enveloped in a. has
coat. which concealed a part of his face as We

as his form. had removed a. loose plank in the v ,

forward bulkhead, thus making an evening

leading into asmall. close torecastle. The latter_ 

was deserted, the men having preferred to slodp

“No, no; you misunderstand me; but lead . , » “

 

on deck amidships, where they could have the ,   

benefit of the cool breeze. '

Frank’s conductor mounted the forecastle-Y 

steps and passed out on deck. The lad followed
him. The night was so dark that the ho could
see only the outline of the person w 0 was

"ahead of him. ; -.
The forecastledeck on which the two stood

was almost flush with the top of the rail. ‘
Taking advantage of this, the sailor suddenly?
turning, pushed the lad backward into the
foaming sea. ’ ‘
When he rose to the surface, he became aware
that the bight of the bucket-rope, danglin over
the Side, had caught about his form, andt at it

held him. The vessel at the same moment ‘ ‘ r

plunged into the trough of the sea, and feeling ‘-
the rope slipping from him, the ho instinctive
ly threw up his manacled arms. a he did m.
his irons ware caught by something on the edge
of the hull just shaft the counter. A ray of
light streaming from the cabin window ' fell
upon the protuberance by which the lad was _
thus held. It was an iron hook, about two feet.
above the water-line, and the raising of his

arms had brought the handcufls ovar‘ the pro. ,

jectlon.

There he hung as the craft dashed on, not
daring to shout for assistance, lest the same
person who had pushed him over should come
and shove him from his support, in which case,
his wrists being bound together, he would of

course be unable to swim and would inevitably ‘ ’_

perish. .

The position of the youth was on the edge at 
the counter. and by twistinz his head. he aomd- .p I

 

 , 1- six
- w i an,» r

 

   
   
 

 

   

 

I obtain a good view of the cabin window. As

4 up. roaring about the form of the boy, as if an-

a

_ them, and he felt exhausted. Before morning's

- cufl's from the hook.

\

V - him, the top 0 the cavity having been covered l

' warp had caused

no

 

he gazed toward it, he saw a light form come
close to the sash.

It was Luc Loomis, and it seemed to the lad
that she was ooking straight toward him.

For some minutes the young girl stood by the
window, and Frank now resolVed to endeavor
to attract her attention by shouting.

He called again and again, but the roaring of
wind and wave must have drowned his voice,
for it was evident that Lucy did not hear him.
At length she left the window, and the youth
now felt as it his last hope was gone.

On dashed the brig, while the waters leaped

gry because they could not make him their
prey. His arms ached from the strain upon

light should reveal his situation to the crew, he
would probably perish, for, more than once, he
was nearly suflocated by the cataracts of water
that ured over his head.

A1 at once, as he glanced about him, he no~
ticed the outline of a skifl’, which was towing
astern, and which had previously escaped his
attention. It was evidently the craft in which
Lucgehad come alongside and which had not as
yet an taken aboard.

“It I could only get hold of that warp,” he
murmured, glancing at the rope which was
above his head, “I might draw the beat this
way and get into it!”

As his hands were bound there seemed no way
of doing this until the brig suddenly gavea
lurch and went down so low by the stern that
the slackened rope bent close to the boy. In-
stantly he dun one of his legs over it, and thus
gradually wor ing with foot and ankle, he
drew the skid under him.

One of the thwarts afforded support for his
leet, and he was then enabled to 1i t his hand-

Meanwhile the violent pulls he had given the
a loose pin on which it was
fastened to give way, and t a youth now found
himself adrift in the skiff.

 

CHAPTER X.
TREACHERY.

Am quitting Frank, on the night he left
him for the purpose of reconnoitering, Ben
Beaver endeavored to follow the form of the
lndian, whose outline he could see ahead of him
in the gloom.

The savage however, soon disappeared from
his aze, an , after having been absent from
his Friend for a couple of hours, the hunter. un-
able to see any of his toes, concluded to return
to him.

He had not taken many steps when, all at
once, down he went into a pit, which had prob-

Hantc Ephrd Ben.

 

ably'been pre ared by the savages to insnare

with sticks and earth. l
‘ As the pit ,was about eight feet deep, Ben
qould think of no way to get out of it. l
Hours passed and at dawn the hunter looked
for some of his foes. Fortunately none ap-

peared, although it was evident that they would plied. .
l the shit was safe enough. I didn’t want her

come betel-e long.

/

 

At length the youth thought of an expedient
for quitting his uncomfortable quarters.

Thrusting his rifle diagonally into the opposite

sides of the cavity, he was enabled to thus form
a stepping-place, which would enable him to
reach the ground above, provided the sand was
firm enough to hold the rifle.
. it proved to be so; by placing one foot upon
it, and leaping up lightly, the hunter caught at
some grass, and drew himself out of the hole.
By bending far down, he was then able to grasp
his piece and draw it up to him. Having
cleaned the weapon thoroughly, he shouldered
it, and moved rapidly along the coast.

It chanced that he pnsscd the very rack on
which Frank had had his dispute with Dirk,
and from which he had finally been led off a
captive by the lndians.

He moved rapidly along, thinking the boy
must. have gone on without him, and that he
would finally overtake him. Far ahead of him
he eoulrl see, meanwhile, the canoe containing
the Wnlmsh and the female. /

“Ef I'm not mistook, the chap in that craft
are the Sea-Mole, but who the woman with him
kin be beats me. Thar they now go, out of
sight, round that point of land with the trees
on it. Thar’s a settlement jest beyond thar,
and I’m in hopes the Injun will thar make a
halt. Shouldn’t wonder at I’ll find Frank in
that settlement, waitin‘ fur me ”

In about an hour after he reached the settle-
ment, but be there saw neither Frank nor the
Waknsh, nor could he. on making inquiries,
learn anything about them. A mist had again
Settled on this part of the coast, and it was evis
dent that the canoe had not been seen to pass.

Ben concluded that Frank, in his eagerness to
track the canoe, had moved on. He hurried
forward, and after walking a couple of miles
without seeing any sign of his friend, he finally
stopped at the but of a fisherman, a little way
back from the coast.

“ Hev yer seen a boy pass this way lately?” he
inquired.

" N 0,” was the answer.

:: Nor a canoe with a woman and an Injun in

“Yer’s right about the canoa— that came
alongside the beach, and there was a gal and an
Injun in it“ The go] get out and asked me if I
hadn’t a ski!!! in which she could reach the craft
in the oiling—the one yonder," he added, oint-
ing far away, where the brig Maria was ead-
ing up for the coast. half veiled b the gather-
ing mist. “ I told her I could sell ier one, and I
did, but I’m afeared she’ll have a hard time get-
tin' atom-d that emit!”

“What sort of a lookin’ gal war» she!” in-
quired Ben.

The fisherman then described her, and Ben at
once inferred that she was none other than
Lucy Loomis. V

“She paid me fur the skiff, but I wouldn’t
take half she oflered me, for the boat was anold
damaged one.”

“ And you ’lowed her to go OR in a damaged
boat?” cried Ben, angrily.

“There was no danger,” the fisherman re-
“Unlessa heavy gale should come 11 ,

Hunter-Part1 Ben. . I."

 

take it, but it was the only one I had to spare,
and she insisted.”

Ben now moved ofl rapidly gazing along the
coast, in the hope of seein frank. _

Toward noon the mist c eared, and he again
caught si ht of the Wakash far ahead, paddling
with mig t and main.

“ Ef I can’t find Frank—and t 9 Lord only
knows what’s become on him, ’11 track the
canoe at any rate, which war the main thing
in pard and I corned out hyei- for.”

illle after mile did the sturdy young trapper
pass in his pursuit of the canoe. '

As he hurried on, he heard the ring of a rifle,
and turning, he beheld an Indian of the Flat«
head tribe, in a. canoe which had just rounded a
projecting rock. _

“ So that’s your game, are it?” cried Ben.
“ Seems to me know that rifle yer’s got. Ef it
ain’t the one which belonged to my pard, then
I’m mou’ty mistook.”

The savage, after firing, had endeavored to
shove the canoe back behind the rock round
which he had come, but the tide, catching the
light craft, carried it some yards away from the
rug ed projection.

“§er time’s cnme now, Injunl” cried Ben, as
he leveled his rifle and pulled the trigger.

The savage threw himself over into the sea,
and for severalmoments after Ben had fired, the
water, discolored by blood, was Violently agi-
tated.

Finally the Indian drew himself into the canoe.

“ Not flre more!” he cried, holding up his
hand. “The white man has wounded the Water
Eagle." ,

“ Is yer hurt had, Injun?” inquired Ben, as he
ran to the edge of the projecting rock.

“ Him hurt very ba " was the reply. “ Him
strike in leg, and the ater Eagle will never
swim again.”

“ Well, come, now, and give me up that
canoe, and I won’t hurt yer any more. Yer kin
limp back to yer tribe, and tell 'em that I tuck
yer boat away from yer.”

As he spoke, Ben, leaning far ever, caught the
stern of the canoe, which had by this time
drifted near him, and he drew the light vessel to
the rock. . _

“ Before er go ” said Ben, picking up the
rifle the Ind an had used, “ I’ll take possesswn
of this piece, which I see are reallv the one my
pard had when I last left him. Yer must tell
me what yer’ve done with that White boy ’fore

yer go.” _
“ tis soon done. The white boy was made
prisoner, before the sun rose, but some of the

’ appeared round the angle of arock.

 

Hudson Compan hunters came and asked the
Indian to give im up to them. They went
away with the white boy, and the Water Eagle
cannot tell where he went after that, because
the tribe did not watch to see. ”

“Well, of what yer say are true, the boy’s
probably safe, at any rate. Now then yer kin ‘
go as fast as yer like." 2

As he spoke Ben picked up the paddle in the
canoe and directed the light craft along the
side oi the rock. _ l

“ Water Eagle much hurt,” said the Indian
as he made an effort to rise. " 1

“ I'll help yer out. than.” cried Ben. 1

lhis irons over a rejection of rock, and thus.
hold himself to t. But he could do no

J his body along to any of the other r ks, and

He took hold of the savage Under the arm,
when, suddenly turning, the Flathead, who un-
observed, had drawn a knife from his halt,
sprung to his feet, aiming a blow at the heart .
of the hunter. 

The latter, always on the alert when dealing '
With Indians, give his body a limber twist, and
the blade passed throughthe side of his hunting-
shirt grazing his ribs.

“ \i’er war out in yer reckonin’, that time,”
said Ben coolly. *

With his left hand the savage now drew his
tomahawk, but before he could use it, Ben’s
knife was descending toward the breast of his
foe. The latter, howsver, avoided the blow by
throwing himself backward on‘ the rock; then
up he sprung, and took to his heels.

“ Tho varmiut war not much hurted arter all,
by my bullet,” muttered Ben as the Indian dis-

   
      
      
  

He paddled swiftly alongshore, and, before
night he beheld the Sea-Mole, revealed b the ‘
clearing of the mist, about two miles ahea .

To overtake the savage was, he knew, im -
sible, but he hoped he would be able'to keep iin ,
in sight. Night, however, soon came on with a. i. “ ’ ’
gale, and Ben was obliged to go ashoreto save .. » C
the canoe from being swamped. Tying the ‘ ' '
vessel by its warp to a projectingspur of rock, in r
a small cove partly sheltered from the wind and
waves, be seated himself in a hollow, among
some of the rugged masses. By this time the
fog had cleared, but the gloom was sointense
that Ben could make out only the white foam _ 1
when he looked seaward. , a w

At length, however, far in the distance hobo-
‘neld a light, which was evidently that of some ; a
craft, heading along on a course parallel with f ‘
the shore. ' 

 

CHAPTER XI. . .
CORNERED. ‘ ‘
ADRIM in the skiff, Frank, with both hands
fastened together by his irons, was of course
unable to guide the light vessel, although there i ‘2» :T ‘
were a couple of paddles in it. v
The skiff was hurled along h wind and”,
wave and but for its flat bottom, t would soon »
have heén swamped. ' i .
Frank endeavored to free himself/from his ' ,.
irons, which were not very tight, but he 
unsuccessful. At times it seemed as if the boat'. '
thrown for over on its side, with the water ,
pouring across it, must be capsized, and the‘ ‘
was prepared to meet the fate which he 1'
was in store for him. - ‘ 1
0n went the light vessel toward the coast un-‘ 
til down, when it was driven against a jagged‘ "
rock and splintered to fragments. Frank found ,_ ' ',
himself in the water, and a huge sea was about '
to carry him off, when he contrived to throw._

more. There was no chance for him to draw 

as the waves washed repeatedly over h 3 head,“
it was plain that he would soon be strangled; -' x, _
All at once, through the flying clouds of ‘ "
team, he caught sight of a figure, coming
ward him. '2 ,
“ Hold on. tharl hold on for .ver life. and of J "

   

18

  

Hunt r- Pard Ben.

 

  
   
 
    
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
  
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
   
   
   
  
   
 
    
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
   
   
   
    
  

don’t save yer, yer kin call me a weasel !” came
the well-known voice of Ben Beaver.

_ He was soon near enough to seize him under
both arms, when, b main strength, he hauled
him along to the rec on which he stood.

As soon as Frank could sufficiently regain his
breath for a lengthy recital, he made explana-

. time.

a \ “I never heerd sech a dog-gone shameful
piece 0’ biznessl” cried Ben. “That Dirk are
worse nor an Injun! It war probably that
mean cuss who pushed you overboard while
you war in irons.’

“ I think it was. although it was too dark for
me to recognize him.”

Ben now went to work to take the handcuffs
from Frank’s wrists. This he did by means of
the file he carried.

, “ Now ain’t yer most famished to death? The
salt water they say are a great appetizer.”

“I am very hun ry, and, at the same time,
very-sleepy,” said rank.

 Ben conducted him to the hollow where he
" had passed the night, and commenced to re-
“ plenish a small fire which was nearly out.

“I had jest cooked some coffee hyar, and

 War eatin’ a slice 0’ venison and some Injin
cake, when, chancing to look toward the water,
I see’d yer skiif. comin‘ straight down fur them
rocks, extendin’ out from the shore.”

Frank having soon refreshed himself with a
. mug of coflee and some meat, which his friend
.»  prepared for him stretched himself out on a
» ‘ ganket, and finally fell off into a deep slum-

r. =

He awoke at about noon, to find a dinner
_. read for him. \

V ‘- " feel like a new being," he said, as soon as
Hy" ' he had finished eating.

‘ . “Then we kin paddle on arter that Wakash,
I ~ _ r-for, as you kin See, the gale hev now gone
- 4, down.”

- “ But-where is our canoe?” inquired Frank.

’ . “ I have one close at hand,” replied Ben, who
< then proceeded to describe his encounter with
thogFlathead.

As he finished, he took Frank’s rifle from be-
“.i. hind crock where he had placed it and gave it
7 i.‘ to the lad who was overjoyed to obtain
>3. the weapon, which he had thought he would
 . never see again.

“ And now we’re 01!,” continued Ben, as he
 andhis companion stepped into the canoe after
‘: launching it.

 I For some time they glidedon. without seeing

“m ' ,an , sign of the Wakas . ‘

~ ' " t last they entered a. bay, bordered by rocks,
among which were many hollows, opening

lupon the water. In the center of the bay lay
part of a schooner wedged in the fissure of a
couple of rocks, as it it Were in the stocks.

.= , r “ Halloa! here is a piece of the wrecked

('1  schooner, drifting away OR to this place!” cried
7' Frank. “ The how has entirely broken ufl!”

" It’s nat’ral enough it should he hyar, seein’
as the wind hev been this we ever since the
' ' wreck,” answered Ben. “ Thun er! thar he are
" :-,‘~ now!” suddenly added the hunter, pointing to-

' ward one of the hollows facing the water.
 Lookinathsre, Frank caught a glimpse of the
canoe of o Wakash. as it was about to emerge

' ‘ /'-

   

 

 

from the openin s. The Indian was seated amid-
ships, still plying his paddle. but on seeing the
boys, he gave a yell, and backed into the water-
cave, quickly disappearing from their gaze.

"We’ll hev him, ef we work sharp!” cried
Ben.

“Perhaps this is the gold cave l" said Frank.

“ it may be, but 1 hev my doubts. 1 don’t
think it are exactly a cave, anyway, but reckin
thar’s an opening on t’other end of it through
which we’ll hev to ass.”

Ben was right. a entering the hollow, the
boys beheld the Wakash passing through the
opening at the other end.

They paddled swiftly, but on going through
the further opening t ey saw nothing of the
fugitive.

“ Thar’s plentv more hollows whar he could

hev hid,” said Ben. “ but it are my opinion that.

he are no longer in the bay, but that he hev
gone through the passage yander out into the
open water ag’in.”

The hunter pointed toward the narrow pas-
sage he spoke of. and the boys v. ere about head-
ing the canoe for it, when suddenly a simul-
taneous yell was heard, and from behind rocks
fin eiach side of them arose about twenty Fiat-

ea 5.

“ Hilloal” cried Ben; “ and thar’s old ‘Spot’
among ’em. pointing his rifle toward me,
while t’ others, who hev rifles, cover both on
us

“Hold on, thar!" continued Ben, standing
erect. “Yer’Ve sartintly got us now, ‘Spot,
so that thar’s no way fur us to 'scapel But you
may as Well save yer fodder, as we llhev to give
ourselves up.”

At this there was a yell of exultation from
the savage Cparty, and as Ben headed the
canoe tower the rocks, some of them clam-
bered down, that they might be ready to
seize it.” . '

“Ugh! Come in, there!” granted Spotted
Turtle, pointing toward a flat rock.

“Yer wishes shall be complied with,” said
Ben, “ seein’ as that’s no help fur it. One thing
though I’ll sw’ar, which are that I’m not goin
to come a stroke nearer till you make them
devils of yourn lower the’r rifles, which, as
yer kin see for yerself, they’s still p’inting at
our heads.”

As he spoke Ben stopped paddling, and the
canoe was brought to a stop some yards from
the rocks.

“ It shall be done," said Spotted Turtle. “ We
would take the white hunter alive, for we would

much like to hev his scalpl’:he added, with a

grim smile.

“How much will yer give me fur it?” Ben
quietly asked, as if he was speaking merely of a
piece of fur.

“ Ugh! hunter like to make fun, but the Spot-
ted Turtle cannotrwaitl Quick—come to the
rock. or his braves shall flre!” ’ i ,

“Are you really going to give up to those
wretchesl” inquired Frank, in a whisper.
“For in part, I would sooner run the risk of
letging, t em fire at us. We have two good rifles,
m _ I

“Hist! ard—hist!” whispered Ben. “ You’ll
soon see w at’s goin’ to happen."

 

  

\

Hunter-Part1 Ben. 19

 

The bow of the canoe was within a few yards
of the flat rock, and already the Indians had
stretched forth their hands to seize it, when,
with a derisive yell, Ben sent the canoe shooting
past? them into a hollow, a. few feet to the
rig t. '

“Now, then, them varmints will hev to git
canoes ’fore they kin foller us,” the hunter said
to Frank.

Ben guided the canoe along the rocky water-
passage, and at length the craft emerged from
an opening at the other extremity.

The boys had thought that they would see no
savages on this side of the rocks, but they now
found that they had been mistaken.

No sooner did they emerge from the opening
than they beheld t ree canoes filled with the
Indians shooting toward them.

“Hilloai so We’re cut off!” cried the hunter.
“That’s nothin’ to do now but make fur the
wreck in the bay. and ther, I hope, we kin give
the raskils fodder enough to keep ’em back. ’

Quickly whirling the light vessel round the
boys directed it behind a projecting rock, which
would, for some minutes, hide them from their

enemies. Then they headed for the wreck,
which they soon boarded.
CHAPTER XII.
THE WRECK.

“THAT cursed boy is out of my way now.”
muttered Dirk, after he had pushed Frank
overboard in the manner previously stated.
“It was a good idea my muifling myself in this
cost, and disguising my voice and then leading
the fellow out of the hold. Sooner or later Luc —
now that she is aboard—would have learns of
his confinement and would have spoiled my
plan by obtaining his liberation. I must caution
the captain and mate to say nothing of the
he ’s having been brought aboard this vessel.”

0 saying Dirk went down into the cabin,
where he vainly endeavored to obtain repose.
The face of the lad, whom he supposed to be
drowned before now, he t haunting his mind.

Next morning, while no stood on deck near
the weather ra , he glided her side.

“Lucy,” he said, “I hope you will now an.
swer the question I have so many times asked
you. You know that I think everything' of
you, and that you would make me happy by
consenting to the wishes of your lately deceased
uncle, and agreeing to be my wife.” _

fl “ I can plainly answer you now,” said Lucy,
rm y.

Dirk was startled by the emphasis she put
upon the word now. Was it possible that she
was cognizant of his crime?

“I do not understand you ” he said.

“Well, then, know that i loved my uncle
dearl . and that his wishes were everything to
me. on were never the sort of person I would
choose for a husband; still I did not dislike you
until your barbarous treatment of Frank and
the hunter showed me your true character. Be-
fore that I had thought you niore vain than
wicked, and I had not made up my mind
whether to accept on or not. Now, however,
I have to say that would sooner suites- death
than marry you!” .

 

“Yes,” gritted Dirk between his teeth, “be-
cause you have seen some one you like so much
better." i

“That is my own affair,” Lucy answered,
haughtily, and turning on her heel, she swept
into the cabin.

“You’ll never have him—the one you want,
at any ratel” muttered Dirk. “By this time,
his body is food for sharks!"

Just then the captnin came up to him.

“Strange enough! Frank, the mutineer, is
missing!”

“ Missing?” cried Dirk, with feigned surprise.

“Yes. We found a plank taken 03 the
forecastle bulkhead, though how he could have
done it with handcuffs on, is a puzzle to us

i!

“Probably the plank was loose, and he got ‘
his elbow under it, and so forced it off.”

“ That is what some of us think; still, it does-
n’t seem hardly possible he could bavo done it.
Then, again, how could he manage to dropover
the side with those irons on, and make 01! in the
skiff?”

“ In the skiff?” cried Dirk.

“ Yes: he must have gone off, in that way,
for the boat is missing.”

Dirk reflected. The boat had probably got
loose and drifted off in the gale, but it was as
well the captain should believe that Frank had
carried it ofll.

“ He must, somehow, have taken oi! his
irons.” said the youth, at last. r

“True they were loose. but I don’t see how ‘
he could have got them off," answered the cap-
tain. “ Still it must have been done, for he
certainly is gone and the boat with him.”

Lucy finally ovsrheard the mate and second
officer talking about the aflair.

“ What is all this about an escaped mutineerl”
she inquired.

The mate explained, and thus Lucy obtained
further insi ht into the villainous character 0!“
Dirk Derric . 

She procured a spyglass, and swept the sea
with it in all directions, but she could detect no
sign of the missing youth.

‘ What if he should have been lost?” she mut-
tered, with a shudder. “In that case Dirk is
his murderer, for that would not have happened.
End Ihe not been made a prisoner, and brought

ere

All at once the young girl brou ht her glass
to bear upon an object in a distant ay,

“A wreck,” she murmured.

Then she became thoughtful, for it occurred
to her that Frank might have made for that
wireck, and that, perhaps, he was now aboard
o it. v ’
“You better go there to look for the boy ”
she said to the captain, pointing out the wrec ‘
“ but, understand, that if you find him there,
he is not to be again made prisoner, for thestory,
Dirk told you about him was false.”

“ Faisal ’

“Yes, I know that boy well. He was never
one of the crew of the schooner—was nevera
sailor.”

The captain shrugged his shoulders. l

“ Do you know, had my suspicions,” he

.\.

x

\

“ I can tell a sailor when I see one. and~ . I

 

   

so;

Hunter-Pan]. Ben.

 

it seemed to me that Dirk spited that boy for

something, and was onl spinning a yarn.’

- , A boat, headed b t e mate, and with Lucy
also in it, was pulle to the wreck.

“It isa part of the wreck of the schooner,”
said Lucy.

A useless search was made for the boy. The
mate and his crew returned to the boat.

“ We may as well go back, miss,” he said.

But Luc did not come. After the mate left
her. one o the cabin steps had giVen way, pre-
cipitating her into the water flooding the apart-
ment. She could swim, but her arms were
caught by a coil of rope under water, and she
was thus held a prisoner.

Vainl she struggled for a few seconds, but
at lengt she tread herself, and endeavored to
re am the surface. She did not come 11 in the
ea in' she rose in the hold just beyond it, whi-
ther the tide had carried her.

As she endeavored to walk along the inclined
side of the hold, her foot slipped, and she fell
upon one of the rocks which projected from lhe

water, into this part of the broken craft. Her
head striking a projecting ledge of the rock, she
rolled senseless into a hollow on top of it, and
there she lay, while the mate boarding the
wreck, vainly searched for her.

The broken step seemed to indicate that she
had fallen into the water. and although he could
not find the body, the officer doubted not that
she was drowned.

He returned abroad the brig with the sad
news.

, “ This is dreadful,” gasped Dirk, who was
more aflected by the tidings than any other
.person aboard.

“ Yes." said the mate, sternly; “ and you have
yo‘t‘lfielf to thank for her death.” ‘

“Yes: it all came from your telling that lie

about the ho , Frank.” .
I “I told no ie.”

, “Yes, you did. We have learned the whole
truth from Miss Loomis.”

Dirk perceived that he was caught. The vil-
lain then resolved to leave the vessel, and ask-
ed the mate to put him ashore.

“I shall recommend Captain James to ut
you in irons. It is his duty, I think, a ter
what we have learned,” was the answer.

The youth drew the mate to one side.

“ Hark you!” he said; “I don’t want this thing
to get about. I will tell you and the captain
a secret which will fill your pockets with
gold." ‘»

The mate was greedy and avericious. He
and Captain James listened to Dirk’s story of
{to gold cave, and consented to help him find

“ You say you have seen that Wakash to-day.
Where is hel‘

“Look broad across the lee how, and you
will see him going along in his canoe as soon
as'the rack clears a little. I caught a glimpse
of him while you were away.”

 

CHAPTER XIIIin
CAGE or F1
" HYAB wfle." said Ben to Frank, when the

two had .climbed to the deck of the wreck
“This rail are a good breastwork, and We kin
hen the varmints at bay.”

eliing and whooping. the savages paddled
toward the wreck, but the sight oh the boys’
rifles pointed toward them induced them to seek
shelter behind some fragments of rock. They
kart loading and firing for some time from
“it; iind their place of concealment, but without
c am.

At length they stopped firing. and only the
sound of their low voices was heard.

“They’re havin’ a sort 0’ pow-wow, and will
be tryin’ some new game ’fore long,” said Ben.

He was right. A few minutes after he had
spoken a spear, on the end of which was fasten-
ed a mass of flaming, dried grass, was hurled
aboard the wreck.

Frank and Ben put out the blaze before it
could communicate with the woodwork, but
spear after spear, prepared in the same manner,
was thrown, and, before they could be extin-
guished, the fire caught among some of the
mu<ses of tarred rigging lying about the deck,
and, in a moment, the lurid flames were making
rapid headway.

“ We will have to leave the wreck," said
Frank.

“I hev an ideei” cried Ben, suddenly.
“ Thar’s a pile of wet canvas near us, and et we
jest throw that on the fire, it’ll make a smoke,
which’ll hide us from the varmints, so that they
kin not tell which way we go.”

The two boys were about to pick up the can-
vas when all at once Ben started and laid a
hand on his companion's arm.

“ Did yer beer that?” he in uired.

“ i heard nothing exec t t 19 hiss and crackle
of the flames,” answered rank.

“There it is again. Harkl"

A voice which seemed to come from under
the deck was now distinctly audible.

“ It is a woman’s voicel” cried Frank. “What
can it mean?”

“ it is I—Lucy Loomisi” was the answer.

Frank uttered a cry of surprise The next
moment he had fastened arope about his breast,
and with Ben holding on to the other end, he
swam in the direction of the voice.

He soon reached the rock upon which Lucy

00d.
“Oh, Frankl” she cried. “I am so glad to
see you alive and well i”

“ And I you; but how came you in this
strange place?"

The present, however, was no time for ex-
planations. Frank tonk the rope from himself
and fastened it about Lucy’s waist.

“I can swim,” she said, “ but I was afraid to
venture from this place when I saw the gleam
of the fire, not knowing which part of the wreck
was burning.”

“ It is the forward rt so far, but the flames
are spreading and wil soon come aft.”

He now called to Ben to pull gently, and
swam by Lucy’s side as she was drawn along.
But the two were only half-way to the cabin,
when the flaming deck just ahead of them, gave
way as it was burned through, and a mass of
blazing timber fell directly in front of them.
i The hissing of the water was heard. and a rush

st

 

     

     

~

Hunter-Pond Ben.

81

 

of hot vapor sent up from it half-suflocated the
bov and his companion.

“ We are lostl" cried Lucy, “there is no
chance for us, now. Ohl I am sorry I cnlled,
as I have thus forced you to share my total”

“We must go back to the rock and see what
we can do. I hope Ben is safe.”

The moment the two had returned to the rock
he called to the hunter, but his hopes sunk when
he received no replv.

A few minutes later, by which time the two ‘

were fairly sufiocating 1n the dense smoke, a
crushing sound was heard in the forward part
of the wreck, and the sturdy form of Ben
Beaver loomed through the canopy ol' vapor.

“ Jump into the canoe, of yer please,” he said
to the girl, and, semng her by the arm, he
helped her into the light vessel.

Frank followed, when, grasping a paddle,
Ben sent the canoe shooting backward from
under the broken woodwork of the deck through
an opening, which, with an ax, he had made
forward.

The esoa e was a narrow one, for the canoe
had scarce y glided clear of the wreck when the
whole of the blazing deck fell in, covering the
rock on which Lucy and Frank had stood will:
a mass of flaming timbers resembling a cage of
red-hot bars.

The girl was about to speak, when Ben laid a.
hand on her arm.

“ Don’t say a. word yet," he whispered.
“ Thar’s Injuns clus to us, but they don’t see us
on account of the smoke.”

Cautiouslv working the paddle, the sound of
which was drowned by the rraring and crack-
ling of the fire, the hunter finally guided the
canoe around a rock at one side of the bay.

“ Thar, we’s safe enough fur the present,” he
said, “ and kin talk as we keep goin’ on.”

Explanations were made.

“ I do not know how long I lay senssless on
that rock, under the wreck,” said Lucy. “ When
I came to, I realized that the wreck was on fire,
and, hearing voices, I shouted.”

“ Yer must feel mortil tired and worn out,”
said Ben.

“No; I feel well enough, now. except that I
have a. slight headache, which will soon pass oflf,
out here in the fresh air.”

“ Thar’s an English gal fur yer!” said Ben to
Frank. “They’re hardy critters and no mi.-
take.”

Lucy blushed at being called a “critter,” but
she could not help smiling at the same time.

“ The canvas aboard that wreck war a lucky
thing fur us,” said Ben. “I throwed it on the
fire, which then made as pooty a black smoke
as yer’d want to see. The smoke spread all
about the cratt, and, takin’ ’vanmge of it, I jest
picks up an ax, which war lyin’ on the deck,
and with it jumps into tho canoe.
you call, and reckined you war all right, so far
down under the deck. Sol pwlriled forward,
and with the ax opened a passage quicker’n yer
could say snakes.”

For several days the three kept on their wa ,
now and then catching a glimpse of the Wakes ,
far ahead, lying his puddle with marvelous
rapidity. n the fourth day after lenvmg the
Week the party had passed through the S nuts

I hnd heard ;

, of Fur-a, and were now heading along close to
l the coast of Washington Terr tory, with the
‘ shore of Vancouver island faintly visible in the
, distance to leeward. A fog, which had been
, gradually gathering, became so thick at'dark,
, that they deemed it best to pass the night on
‘ land. By the forethought of Ben Beaver, the

canoe had been provided with a roll of canvas,
1 dropped into it from the wreck, and this canoe
i had been found very useful whenever the party
halted on the beach, as it was large enough for
the boys to make a tent of it for Lucy’s accom-
modution.

A good spot for landing was selected, and the,
three were soon on shore, with the tent up and
the girl in it. Thehalting’place was on a green
level piece of ground, at the base of a range of
rocky hills.

Ben made a fire, and prepared a supper of
which the three partook wit good appetir 5.
Then Lucy returned to her tent, and was soon in
a sound slumber. ..

The boys took turns at standing watch. Just
before midnight Frank was on the lookout,
pacing the ground at the foot of the hill, ncw'
and then looking keenly up at the rocks from \
which direction Ben had said he thought ene-
mies would come, it they came at all. -

Soon after dawn both boys were sittin h
a fire, preparing breakfast. It was a brigh
clear morning, and the water sparkled in the
beams of the rising sun.

Frank went to call Lucy. Pausing near the
tent, he pronounced her name. but. although he
called again and again, there was no reply.

“The gal must be awake,” said Ben, coming
to his friend’s side. ‘

He called very loud, but still there was no
answer. ~ A

“ It's mortil strange,” remarked Ben. " She’s
gen4rallv up and with us ’fore this time.”

Finally the boys ventured to raise the front
of the tent and look in.

Lucy was gone!

‘ CHAPTER XIV. ,
TEE RANSOK. \
WHILE Frank was walking to and fro on
guard at the base of the hil , Lucy, who had.
awakened, became aware that a hideous head
was thrust through one side of the tent. V
The startled girl could make out the glowing
eyes of a savage, as he gazed at her a, moment
and then withdrew. She sprung up and hastily
quitted the shelter. Several times, as she ran
on, she tried to call to her friends, but her heart

escaped her.

The course she was taking led her to the
beach, alongside of which lay the canoe tied to r
astake. Scarcely knowing _whnt she did, she
sprung into the light craft, giving it a push as '
s e entered it.

The stake to which it was secured, havin be-
come loosaned by the tide, gave way, an the-
Vessel was carried oi! by the current. At
length this drew her intoa hollow—o sort of

 

tent.
i. While she was trying to work the canoe out.
l

of it. she heard a splash. and saw an outuno ot' »‘ 7

heat so fast that only a sort of smothered gasp g i V

water-cave, which seemed to be of large 02-  -

 

 
   

 

 

\

hunter-Part! Ben.’

 

a. rock, which had fallen over the opening,
blocking it up.

“ Here I ani—a prisoner in this dreary place,”
she murmured, with dismay.

“ Don’t be ’fraid,” came a voice from the
gloom. “ It is the Wakash here to save girl.”

The Indian, in his craft, glided alongside of
her, and continued:

“ Wakash see girl run away. It was he who
looked in tent. Wakash not far ofl’. He been
see Flatheads, and he keep near, for he no want
white girl be taken by enemy.”

“So the Flatheads were encamped near the
place where my companions and I halted for the
night? Go, then, good Wakash, alarm my
friends, and bring them here.”

“ The white hunter and his young friend must
take care of themselves. The Wakasli can not
spare the time to watch over them, though he
has sworn to do all he can for the white girl!”

, “Then tell me how I can reach them. They
must be saved!"

“The current runs too stron for the white
girl to get back to her friends. hey have good

uns, and they can take care of themselves. The

latheads now want to get girl. They will soon
go to where they left canoes, and then they will
come out on the water to look for the white
girl. They would make her prisoner, so that
they get big ransom.”

“I fear for my friends,” said Lucy, “ more
than I do for myself.” i

“The Fiatheads do not know friends are
give—think dead,” said ihe Wukash. “ Think

n burn up, aboard wreck. Heard speak of
that, when near camp. The Wakash was so
close he could here what they say."

“ Where do you intend to take me?” ‘

“Will take near Victoria, so girl go there
herself, if can. But if too much Flutheads
must wait here. Don’t think Flathead find
here. Go, now, and look if can see anything of
Indians! If not see, will come back and take
toward Victoria, for the Wakash could find
any place on the darkest night. He knows the
waters well. Now the white girl must wait
here for him.”

So saying the savage paddled ofl in the ob-
scurity.

There was evidently some secret outlet to the

; cave besides the one over which he had caused

‘ as the monster approached her,

the rock to fall.

“ I shall be glad to leave this place,” mur-
mured Lucy. “ After I reach Victoria I must
somehow contrive to send word of my safety
to Frank and the hunter. ”
angul‘S passed, but the Wakash did not come

e .

It was now dawn, and a dim light stole into
the cave through the crevices in the rock above
her head. She looked about her in vain for the
outlet by which the Wakash had left the
gloomy retreat.

All at once she was alarmed by the appear-
ance of a hideous apparition. It was the form
of a savage, with t e head of a sea-wolf, com-
mg toward her in a canoe from an alcove at one
side of the cave. ‘

“ Is it you, Wakash?” she faltered.

“ Ugh I” was the response, in a guttural voice,

 

The voice was hot that of the Sea-Mole.

“ Who are you?" cried the frightened girl.

“ It is Spotted Turtle who comes to the white

'l‘l,” was the answer. and as he spoke the In-

'an threw the wolf'skin from his head. reveal-
ing the hideous features of the sava e chief.

“The Wakasb is cunning, but t e Flathead
knows how to deceive him. He lay in the hol~
low of a rock, and the Wakash passed, thinking
he was a sea—wolf, for he showed only his head.
It was well done.”

“ You have killed the Wakash,” gasped Lucy.

“The Flathead not kill Wakash, though
Wakash hel the Flathead’s enemies. That is
why," and t e chief touched his forehead, thus
meaning to imply that the brain of the Sea-
Mole was not right.

Lucy now understood him, and also the cause
of his forbearance, for she knew that all savage
gribeds respect people whose minds are disor-

ere .

“ White girl go with Indian,” said the chief,
as he made the bow of her canoe fast by a rope
to the stern of his own.

. “ No, no; I beg that you will leave me here,”
said Lucy. “What can gou want of me?”

“ Come, uick gol" sai the savage: “ If not
go, quick ill I” and he raised his tomahawk
threateningly. “ Must get in Indian’s canoe,” he
added, pointing to his craft.

The terrified girl obeyed. The moment she
was in the canoe, the Indian paddled toward
the alcove. When it was resched, he thrust
aside a. thick bunch of seaweed, hanging down
from the rock wall, revealing an opening
large enough or the passage of a canoe.
Through this he paddled, and in a short time he
directed the canoe along shore. Concealing both
vessels amon some rocks, he conducted Lucy
to a small val ey in which a number of the Flat-
heads had encamped.

It was now broad daylight, but there was a
all ht mist which obscured the sea.

uddenl Lucy fancied she could hear the
flapping o canvas.

‘ That is good,” said Spotted Turtle, spring-
in to his feet. '

e ran to the shore, and was soon paddling
swiftly over the water in his canoe.

The spars and sails of a brig loomed before
him through the mist, and he directed his canoe
alongside, calling for a rope.

One was thrown to him, and he clambered
aboard.

“ The Indian would see Water-Hand,” said the
save 9.

“ ho is that?” induired Captain James.

“ He means Dirk, ’ said the mate.
the name the Indians have given him.”

As he spoke, Dirk came up from the cabin
and saw the savage.

In a moment he was by his side. .

The chief drew him apart from the others.

“The Water-Hand loves the white girl—the
one he calls Luc l” ,

“ What of her ' cried Dirk. “ I believe she is
dead—was drowned in a wreck.”

“ It is not so. Spotted Turtle has seen her.
She is alive and well.’

“ Where is she? How was shesaved?’

“ It the Water-Hand wul am the Indian

“That is I

     
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
     
    
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
    
  
    
    
    
  
 
  
  
    
  
 
  
    
   
 
     
   

.3 ,

Hunter-Pars! Ben.

 

twenty pounds of tobacco and four ood knives,
he will tell him where he can find t e girl.”

“ There must be some mistake," said Dirk.

He went to the mate, and told him what the
Indian had said.

“ I thou ht the irl was drowned,” said the
mate, “ alt ough it is true we could not find her
body. She may have saved herself in some
strange, mysterious manner.”

“ if Water-Hand como ashore, Indian can
take him to irl ” said the chief. “First give
twenty poun to co and four good knives.”

“ It shall be done,” said the mate. “The af-
fair is worth looking into. Mind, though, if
she does not prove to be the girl you speak of,
the tobacco and knives will again be taken
awav from you.”

“Ugh! good !” answered the chief.

“ I will go with the Indian to see who the girl
is,” said Dirk. “ I may be back soon, or I may
not come for several days. You can keep a
lookout for me or not, just as you please.”

The tobacco and knives were given to the
savage, with whom Dirk then went ashore.

Meanwhile the brig lay with her maimtopsail
aback, awaiting his return.

“ I’m in no hurry,” muttered the youth.
“No fear but what they’ll contrive to pick me
up, for the sake of the gold cave, even if I
should stay ashore a week.”

A walk of a quarter of a mile brought the In-
dian and his companion to the camp of the
Flatheads.

The young sailor was at once conducted to
the guarded tent in which Lucv was a prisoner.

“ Is my white brother satisfied, now i” in-
quired S otted Turtle.

“Yes, am. How in Heaven’s name did you
escape from the wreck, Lucy?" he added, turn-
ing to the girl.

“ It matters not,” she answered.

" it matters to me, since 1 have found the one
I intend to make my wife.”

“ What do you mean? Have I not told you I
do not want you?” cried Lucy, scornfully.

“ You will be ready to be mine, before long,”
answered Dirk. frowning.

“ Have you lost our senses?” ‘ .

“ Far from it. have all my wits about me."

Then he drew the chief out of the tent, and
conversed with him for some time, in a low
v01ce.

1

 

CHAPTER XV.
A TIMELY ARRIVAL.

THE singular disappearance of Lucy from
the tent surprised Frank and his hunter friend,
who, for a moment, were wholly at a loss to ac-
count for it.

All at once, Ben uttered a cry as his gaze fell
upon certain prints on the ground.

“ Ma the Lord help the poor gal!” he ex_-
cleime . “Thor’s been a savage hyar, in this
very tent! Didn't you hear nothin’ while you
war on guard!” I

“ Not a sound to excite suspicion of anything
wrong,” answered Frank.

Ben commencod to follow up the tracks he
ss w. The led for some distance, when they
tcrminate' at a spot where the ground was
covered with blood.

 

" Her blood!” cried Frank, aghast.

“No, no, thar ou mistake. That's not a
gal’s blood. Yer in see chunks of flesh near,
which are pieces of some animile which hev
been cut up. Thar’s been Injuns hyar,” he
added, pointing to the marks of moccasins on
the ground.

“ Then she has been taken 011’ by the Indians?”

“I don’t think she hev been this way, at
all,” said Ben. “Thar’s no marks of her feet
on the ground.” I

He reflected a moment, and then added:

“Yer kin bet the poor thing made straight
fur the canoe, and that we’d see her now,
floatin’ about in it, of this mist would clear up."

Suddenly each of the lads felt aheavy hand
upon his shoulder, and, turning, the two per-
ceived half a dozen Flatheads, who had stolenu
behind them while they were gazing seawar .

Instinctiver Ben raised his rifle, but, are he
could fire, the Weapon was knocked from his
hands by the blows of sevaral tomahawks.
Frank’s rifle, before he could cook it, was
snatched from his grasp.

“Ugh! got pris’ners now,” said one of the
savages, trium hanilv. “Glad take alive.
Not want to sea p till Spotted Turtle see."

“We’re sarcumvented—thar’s a fact,” said
Ben. “It war car’less of me not to keepa
lookout behind. It are jest the fust time in my
life I war ever caught in such an onssrtin
{nanpnen and I hope to gracious it may be the
ast

Both boys having been deprived of their' -

weapons. Were bound hand and foot, and left
on the shore. while four of the Indians went to
apprise Spotted Turtle of the capture, leaving
two on guard, with the rifles of the prisoners
in their hands.

The two Indians proudly shouldering the
was one. strutted up and down the beach.

“ reckin thar’s help at hand!” Ben suddenly
whis ered to Frank.

“ 'here?” How?”

“Thor's a figure skulkin’ behind that rock ,, ‘ 1"
on the edge of the fog-bank, within (our yard

on us!”

“ A figure?”

“Yes and if I aren’t mou’ty mistaken it
are the Wakashl Act as at yer don’t see iti”

The two savages, a moment later had their I ‘

ggckls to the prisoners as they paced the
ac .
As swift as'a flash, a canoe containing the

Sea~Mole shot from behind the rook,to the _ 

beach, when lightly springing ashore the!

Wakash drew his knife, and severed the bonds
of the two prostrate captives. \

The latter, the next instant, were seated in
the canoe, which again was ddled behind the
rock, and thence into the thic fog near it,where
it could not be seen from the shore.

All this had been done in about fifteen seconds
-—before the two savages on. guard had walked
more than half their “best.”

When they turned, soon after, and perceived
that the captives were gone, they looked at no!"
other in amazement, for there was no sign any-r
where to show that the escape was the result of
human agency—the flowing waves having wash-
ed away the inflow” ot the imprints Which

   

 

 
  

.W,‘

3'.-

-' paddled o

’ marked Ben.

24 Hunter-Para Ben.

 

the two boys andvtheir companion, the Wakash,

 had left upon the sand.

“ It war well done, Wakash,” Ben remarked,
in a low voice, to the Sea-Mole, when they were
some distance from the shore. “ How came yer
to be so near us!"

" The Wakash come to see if vessel near
enou h to send white girl aboard."

“ hat girl?”

“ The one you call Lucy.”

“ You have» seen her thenl
where she is!” cried Frank.

“ The Sea-Mole knows where she is.”

’ He then described his meeting with the girl,

You can tell us

V and his having left her in the water-cave just

before dawn.

“ And how about the vessel you spoke of?”
said Ben. “ Is it near enough for her to reach
it? If so, we will put her aboard.”

“ The vessel not ver far off, but there is one
aboard it whom the w ite girl would rather not
see. His name is Dirk.”

“So it is the same craft from which I was
pushed overboard,” said Frank.

In less than half an hour the three reached

‘ , the water—cave.

“ Lucy, where are you?" called Frank, as
they looked about for her in vain.

The Sea-Mole worked his canoe hither and
thither, searching for the girl, but all to no pur-

se.
p0“Thar, she’s disappeared fur the second
tilde!” said Ben. “ I never knowed it to fail, if
you war lookin’ fur a gal, that she didn’t
contrive to make the s’arch as long as pos-
Bible!”

The Wakesh was at a loss to guess what had
become of the young woman.

.“Proberble she got tired o’ waitin’ and
thought she’d go to look for yer,” continued
Ben addressing the Indian.

“ 9 go and look if we find her,” cried the
Bea-Mole, much puzzled.

He directed the canoe out of the cave. As he
n the mist partly cleared, revealing
the brigllyingfito in the distance.

“Per 3 s e is aboard of that vessel "said
Frank. ‘ Better take us there, Wakash.’

“No like others,” was the answer. “We.-
kash afraid nglish keep—no let go. Boys can
go, if want to. See! there another canoe,” he
added inting out the one which Spotted Tur-
tle had. eft moored to a. rock.

“ That’s one of them Flatheads’ canoes,” re-
“ I’m beginnin’ to think the gal
heytbgen taken pris’uer by them cussed var-
mm s. .

' The Wakash paddled to the canoe, of which
Ben and Frank at once took possession.

“‘Now Wakash 0,” said the Indian; “he
must keep on for cave.”

' And as he spoke, the savage paddled rapidly

01!.

Ben looked carefully about him, but as the
shore for some distance was composed of mass-
es of rock, no footprints could be discovared.

The boys were about to make for the brig, to

 ' . see if Lucy was aboard of the craft, when they

discerned a ure ahead of.them, seated upon
a rock, with his back toward them,
“ That is Dirk.” said Frank.

 

What kin that raskil be doin'
“We must git to him,

“Hilloal
hyar’i” whispered Ben.
’thnut his seein’ us."

He paddled cautiously, and was within a few
feet of the youth ere the latter, turning, saw
the twain.

The moment his gaze fell upon Frank, a cry
of horror escaped the sailor, who stood motion-
less as if transflx:d to the rock.

Taking advantage of hiscondition, Ben sprung
out of the canoe and seized him by the collar.

“ lVe hev you at last!" he cried. “ Come,
tell us of yer know what the gal is, or I’ll shake
yer life out of Keri”

“ Lucy is a oard that brig,” answered the
Vonng captain. “ She came aboard just before
I left the craft, half an hour ago.”

“None 0’ yer liesl’} said Ben.

“ You can go aboard and see for yourself,”
was the reply.

But even as he spoke, the brig squared away,
and was soon speeding swiftly on her course, to
be lost to view in a fog-bank that extended
over that part of the water.

Frank was now also on the rock. Dirk by
this time had recovered his composure.

“ How did you escape from the brig?” he coolly
inquired of the boy.

"It was not vour wish that I should—that is
certain," said Frank. “as it was you who push-
ed me oil? the vnssel.”

"I 2’” cried Dirk, with well-feigned surprise;
" you are mistaken.” \

As he spoke, the sailor suddenly gave a leap,
which carried him some vards away from Frank
and the hunter, on a rock below. Then he took
to his heels and was soon lost to view among the
rugged masses.

“ Now, then, the question are whether we
kin believe that mean cuss or not?” said Ben.
“ If Lucy are aboard that brig, she are safe
enough, and all we hev to do is to keep on arter
the Wakash.”

As he spoke, the brig, for a. few moments,
emerged to view from me fog-bank.

Looking toward her, the boys could dimly
make out the figure of a female on the poop,
waving a kerchief toward them.

“ Thar she is. It are Lucy i” cried Ben, “ see-
ing as it kin be no one else.” ’

The vessel, which had tacked, again disap
peared in the fog.

“Yes, it must have been Lucy,” said Frank.
“ That sets our minds at rest."

 

CHAPTER XVI.
m CAVE.

Tm: female, who had been seen by the b0 i
to wave her kerchief, was the stewardess—t a
wife of the cook. All hands had detected the
canoe with the lads in it, and concluded that one
of the twain was Dirk.

Surprised by the latter’s long absence, and
now thinking he saw that youth with a hunter
instead or the savage chief—with whom he
had left the vessel, he was somewhat puzzled.

“ Better make signals for ’em tohurry aboard,”
said the captain.

    
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
    
  
 
 
     
   
 
    
    
  
    
    
 
   
  
  
   
 
   
   
 
   
 
    
 

-. —. v—«w—

‘ I...~ min." w,___..c

    
       
    

(a

On hearing this, the cook’s wife had as shown,
waved her kemhief. g

The main‘top-eail was now hauled aback, and
a boat was lowered.

By this time, however, Ben and Frank, still
in pursuit of the Wakash, were far ahead, hid‘
den by the fog.

The boat finally returned to the brig, the mate
feeling much chagrined by his failure to find the
canoe. He believed it was a trick of Dirk’s—his
keeping away from the brig—to cheat him out
of the promised profits of the gold cave.

Meanwhile Dirk, keeping on after he had run
away from Frank and the hunter, reached the
camp of the Flatheads and mentioned his hav-
ing seen the two white boys.

Some of the Flathead-l, who had obtained
canoes, then started 08 to search for the
twain. _

“ How dees the white girl bear her captivity?”
Dirk inquired of the chief.

“ She cry much; she look much pale.”

“ Did you shut her up in the cave and put the
bowlder over the entrance, so that she could not
esca ei”

“ t was done. How ion are we to keep the
white girl before Water and gives us more
powder and knives?” .

“ You must keep her until she consents to be
my wife.”

“ My white brother may wait along time for
that.
him.”

“ I'll starve her into being mine i” cried Dirk,
fiercely.

“Is that the way white man treat girl he‘

love! Indian is not 0.”

“I will treat her well enough after she be-
comes my wife,” said Dirk. “ It is all fancy—
her thinking she does notlike me. She liked me
well enough before her uncle died.”

For two days not a morsel of food had boon
brought to the imprisoned girl. On the morn~
ing of the third day she heard a slight noise, and
a fragment of granite rolled down at her feet.
She looked up to see a crevice at one side of the
rocky roof, through which an arm was thrust.
The and belonging to this arm made. a motion
for her to keep silent. Then it was Withdrawn,
and a slight undin noise indicated that-ef-
forts were he ng me e to enlarge the crev1ce.
In a. short time this was made Wide enough to
admit a human body.

A moment later a rope dangled down into the
cave, and by this Frank descended Into the re-
treat.

Lucy gave a cry of joy, and tottering toward
the youth, looked up inquirineg into his face.

“0h. Frank!” she said, “you have imperiled
your life for me 1”

She permitted him to fasten the rope about
her. after which he ascended to the opening he
had made in the roof.

“ Grasp the rope with both hands,” he whis-

pered, looking down at her, "and I will haul rid of you, and it was for this reason she

you up.”
She followed his directions, and he slowly

drew her up to the opening. As she seized a to

ridge of rock outside, he 1
the waist, and lifted her thro h the aperture.
“ Now take nLv arm. and t ow me.’ hesmd.

A

Hunter-Pard Ben.

 

Her heart is not with him; it is against -

 

l praise your beauty to her, and this had mad: ,7
e 

  
  
   
 
   
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
 
   
 
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
   
  
   
    
  
    
   
   
 
 
 
  
     
  
  
    
    
   
   
  
  
    
  
 
    
   
  
     

'95

as soon as he had coiled the rope and placed it

in his wallet.

Her tottering walk on ht his attention.

“ You are weak,” he s d.

Then she informed him that she had had
nothing to eat for two days.

Frank gave a cry of dismay.

Half—supporting her with one arm, be con-
dncted her to the foot of the sloping rock, and
thence through a thicket which extended back
of it for a short distance.

At the end of this thicket stood Ben Beaver,
keeping a careful watch. ~

- “Thar, now, glad enough I am to see'that' ‘

yer’ve been successful,” he said to Frank.
“Quick, Ben, she must have something to eat
before we go a step further. She has not tested
food for two days. ’ r .-
“By the ’tarnall” ejaculated Ben. “Them
varmints ought to be choked to death fur that!”
He took some venison and corn-meal cake‘
from his wallet and resented it to Lucy, who
in her present centitien, imagined, when she‘
partook of it, that she had neVer tastedanyw
thing more delicious. From a sparkling stream»
near, Frank Iprocured her a cup of clear water,
into which en poured from his flask a few
drops of brandy, which he said she needed to,
strengthen her. ,
Much refreshed, Lucy now accompanied. her ‘
two companions to the beach, near which-

was a small, rocky cave, containing the boys”  /'

canoe.
They were soon in the canoe, the lads pad-

dling swiftly toward the coast of Vancouver’s . -.  

Island faintly visible in the distance.
how he an his frien came to learn
being confined in the cave. _
“We saw a oung woman waving her ker-
chiei’ from the eck_oi' the brig,” he said, “and _
thought she was you; but, on the next day, we
came across the rig only a short distance 03,
and as she lay to for us, we boarded her. Then
we learned to our surprise that you were not in
herl Soon after making this discovery,'we left .
the craft, resolving to search for you, now feel-i -
ing' quite sure that Iyou were kept a prisoner is
the Indians throng

of Lucy’s

P

the influence of that ras-

cally Dirk. We retraced our way to a rock on ' = 

which we had seen him the da before, and con-
cealing our canoe, we carefu ly examined the
ground back of the rocks. While We were‘doing
so. an Indian girl of the Flathead tribe appeal~
ed before us. From her we learned of
prisonment in the cave and exactly w are the
atter was located.” ‘ '
“ I think I saw the girl you speak of, while I
was amon the savages,” said Lucy. - -
“ Yes. er name was Nome, as she informed: :'

. us, and she was the betrothed of the chief’s son ‘

who, since his seeing you, had done nothing but -.’
er jea ous. Therefore she was anxious to

given us our information.

“She named this morning for us to come I L
eirect our rescue, and said she wouldl. 7
grasped her round help us 1)le ’ "

ee ing the attention of all the new.

a es directed mm the rock in which on w
cognflned. This she would do by 

l x \

As the li ht vessel (glided on, Frank explained , ‘

ourim-«.«.E

 
 

l

 

        

  

Enter-Paul Ben.

 

certain dances and singing for their entertairié
ment in a grove many yards from the rock.
Well, she has kept her word, for we have not
seen a single Indian since we came ashore to
get you out of the cave.”

The canoe was soon headed for a sloop, which
had been signaled by Frank, and which lay to,
in wait for it.

The craft proved to be a vessel, bound toVic-
toria for a load of coal, and Lucy was glad to
see one of her own sex—the captain’s wife—on
deck.

' Frank engaged a passage for the young girl
rltoVictoria, after which he and Ben bade
er farewell. I '

“ May I come to see you now and then?” he
inquired of her before he entered his canoe.

“ Oh, yes; I shall always be glad to see van,”
‘ a she answered, with a bright flush, “for I can

never forget the noble manner in which you
and your friend have protected me through my
perils.” '

The hoyswere soon back In the canoe, pad-

; dling on toward the north, in which direction
What] had last seen the Wakash.

Now and then they would turn their heads to
look at the sloop, which was making rapid pro-
'nress toward her destined ort.

Frank breathed a sigh o relief to think that
the girl was safe at last. ,

 

CHAPTER XVII.
A TnLELY sno'r.
. GREAT was Dirk’s rage when he discovered
- , that Luc was missing from the cave, and saw
. the unmistakable signs in the broken root that
' 3’, ~ she had beenrescued.
. v “You give wder and knives all the same,”
1 e, = -' said Spotted urtle to'the young sailor.
1’3 .7 r “ I suppose I will have to, as I promised, but
.. r ’ you will have to'wait for them until I can get
" aboard the brig." . .
That same day the brig was seen in the dis-
‘ tance. Dirk boarded her with Spotted Turtle,
., and gave to the savage the promised ransom,
g" " after which the Indian returned ashore. To the
' ‘ inquiries of the ca tain about Lucy Loomis, the
' I ‘Eoun sailor false yansWered that he had put

» ,

er a card a craft bound for Victoria.
The“skip er now spoke about the Wakash—
said he ha as yet seen nothing of that. person,
. and remarked that he had begun to _th1nk Dirk
r? . had made some mistake about the exnstence of a
001.1) CAVE.
_ The youth, however, declared he had not, and
‘ persuaded his auditor to continue the search.
' . Meanwhile Ben Beaver and Frank, keeping on
5‘-t eir course, finally came a sin in si ht’ ot the
Wakash, now far ahead c ose to t 9 share,
about" two miles 01!, half~hidden by the fog
which was again beginning to thicken.
» Toward night they lost sight of him. .
j - “We’ll make a. sto hyar until mornin’,” said
i .- > Ben, pointing to a ho low among some rocks.
‘ The two directed the canoe into this water-
cav which was some fathoms from the shore,
» I andehaving fastened the warp to a progection,
 - they partook of a frugal repast: /
7 ' w An hour later, while Ben stood watch on a.
 v; rugged latform outside of their retreat, Frank
, » droppede sleep on a rocky shell covered With

1

 
    
   
 
 
 
    
 
   
 
   
 

{N

.3 it

~ 5

 

dry sea-weed, which made hing an exoellent
couch.

Ben kept a sharp watch, but he saw nothing
suspicious until an hour had passed, when he
fancied he caught sight of the dim outlines of
several figures approaching through the mist
and the gloom.

The hunter crouching behind a ledge soon
saw several savages in a canoe, gliding past the
rock he occupied—so close that he could have
touched them.

One of them was Spotted Turtle, whose voice
he recognized as the chief spoke to his com-
panions. Seeing two rifles protruding from the
after part of the ca oe, he doubted not they
were those which he. previously; been stolen by
the savages from him and Fran .

Quickly and cautiously stretching out his
hand, he seized the weapons by their barrels,
and noiseless}? drew them to him, without be-
ing discovere , after which he crept back into
the cave with his prizes.

But now he, perceived that, while he was out-
side, on the rock, his canoe-warp evidently not
having been very securely tastened, the light
craft had drifted off with the current.

He peered through the opening, but he could
see nothing of the vessel.

At dawn he in formed Frank of his loss. See—x
ing nothing of the sava es, the two lashed their
titles to their backs, an swam to the shore.

They proceeded a short distance inland, whore
Ben made a fire, lighting it with matches taken
from his waterproof sate.

Here the boys dried themselves and also their
wet rifles.

“ Now, then, we’ll hev to tramp it by land,”
said Ben, “until we git another cance. Hev
you lost anything durin’ the swim?” he added,
noticing that Frank was feeling about the upper
part of his shirt.

“My necktie—but no, come to think of it, I
inutst, have dropped it into the canoe which was

es . .

As soon as their garments were dried, Ben
and his companion were again on the move.
They kept as near the coast as the could
among the jagged masses of rocks whic inter-
fered with their progress.

For two days they continued their journey
without seeing a. sign of an Indian.

0n the third day a slight clearing of the fog
ianaliled Ben to form some idea of their present
003 ity.

“ We’re clue to the British line,” he said.
“Thsr’s not five miles now ’twixt us and the
English ground of British Columbia.”

Frank meanwhile was gazing along the stretch
of water near the coast, as far as the fog would
permit him to see. i

“What is thatl” he inquired, pointing out a
mere speck to the northward.

Ben took a long look.

“It are the Wakash, shore as you’re alive!
Ef we only had a canoe, we could track him
befootiful, now.” _

be boys hurried alon until, weaned by
their long tramp, they fina ly paused to rest on
a ledge, not many yards from the shore.

Ben soon rose and moved ofl toward a high

rock. some distance ahead.

    
  
  
    
  
   
   
  
    
  
 
   
    
    
    
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
  
     
   
  
 

 
       
       
   

l.

' ' Hunter-Paul ’Ben. , 97‘ I

 

“ Where are you going 1" Frank inquired.

“ To take a survay,” answered Ben, “seem’ as
the fog are clearin’. ’ .

“And I’ll go a little way in the other direc-
tion,” said Frank, “to see what there may be in
that quarter.”

“I wouldn’t go far,” suggrsted Ben. “I
reckin the Flatheads hev given up lookin’ fur us
fur the present, but I’m not shore. You kin
never be shore of them varmints.”

Frank moved along for about a. hundred
yards; then he walked out toward the end of a
projectin rock, containing ridges which now
conceals him from his friend.

On reaching the water’s edge he was surprised
to see a canoe lying in a little cove there.

“Here‘s a lucky discovery,” muttered the
lad. “The canoe has probably got adrift from
somewhere, and been carried to this spot.”

On looking more closely, however, be per-
ceived that the warp of the vessol was fastened
to a s ur of rock.

As e made this discovery, a savage crawled
from a hole among the rugged fragments behind

him.

The Indian was a. young Flathead, and a. look
of fierce trium h lighted his dark eyes as ho
gazed upon the oy, who was unconscmus of hisg
presence.

For a moment he seemed undecided whether
to use his spear or his tornahawk, but finally he
concluded to transfix his enemy With the
barbed instrument.

Drawing it back as he raised it he hurled it
with tremendous force, and it would have gone
through Frank’s body between the shoulders
but for a well-directed bullet which, at the mo-
ment the weapon was about to leave the hands
01’ the Indian, crashed through his brain, caus-
ing the spear to pass some inches wide of its
mark. I

On hearing the sharp ring of a rifle Frank
turned, to see the savage fall stone-dead before
him,dand to realize the fate he had just es
cape . ~ _
“It war lucky I tuck a notion to come this
way.” said Ben, “arter we parted. Facts is .I
didn’t like or goin’ so far 011', and thought it
best ter fol er yer. Jest as I got atop ot the
rock yer see right behind us,  spotted that var-
mint creepin’ out 0’ his hole like a turtle, and I
fired in time ter save yer.”

“W ell, Ben, you see we have gained a canoe."

“Wait a minute, ef yer please,” said Ben.
“ We must look to see if thar’s any more of
them critters about.”

As he spoke he peered into the hole whence
the Flathead had emerged, but be perceived
that no one was in the hollow.

The boys entered the canoe and were soon
Piiddllng along toward the Wakash, who was
still dimly visible in the distance. I

Working with a will they gained upon him,
for he seemed to be going at his leisure.

"If we are not again troubled by Flatheads,
we will succeed in tracking the fellow to his re-

 

treat.” said Frank.

“Them Flatheads won’t trouble \lfi ‘fig’in, I
reckin,” said Ben. “It are my Oplmon that
they had all given up the trail, ’Cept that young

him: I shot. who kept on. anxiOus tur to dis. I

\ ,

tingulsh himself, which I am sorry to say he
hev done, by gittin’ my bullet plum center. ’

“Don’t you sometimes feel sorry after you
have shot an Indian, Ben? It is taking human
life, you know.” .

“I kin neVer feel sorr fur anything I do in » ‘
s‘elfy-d’efense," answere the young hunter. "
‘ Praps thar’s a partic’lnr reason why I kin
never feel that way ’bout them Flatheads. and
that is because my father war. years ago, killed
and scalped by some 0’ that tribe.” ’ \

By men the he s were not twenty fathoms‘ _
from the Wakash. int now the fog again be- .
coming dense, threatened every moment ’t‘o ‘
hide him from their gaze. '

All at once, ns<ing round a lofty rock, he
vanished from t ieir sight. ‘

They reached the end of this rock a moment -
later. but they looked in vain for the Indianl ,

“ What can have become of him?” said Frank. ., .'

Ben uttered a low, scarcely audible whistle,
and held his paddle suspended. . r.

“Yer kin make up yer mind, now, that we
are close to-the gold cave,” he said. .

“ How do you know?"

“ That Wahsh could not 0‘ vanished in the
air, yer must allow. Well, of he couldn‘t, be ' ' ..
mou t easily hev got out o’ sight by goin’ down ' .-
into his caval”  .3

The fog again became very thick as the boys, . . '

’é

\focling Certain they were now close to the cave,.,.{ .Lr

commenced to Search for it. -\ ,
They looked among the rocks near them, but , 7 " 'v
without success. \"

     

CHAPTER XVIII.
rim MEETING.

THEY were still searching, when they heard, 
the sound of ours. ' ‘ ’ffi
“ A boat coming this way,” said Frank. ’- z
The boat containing six men, soon emerged "f.-
to view from the mist. v “
The occupants were Captain James, his crew,
andDirk Derrick. . r r
f‘ hilloal thar’s that viper?” cried Ben, while
Dirk at the same moment, uttered a cry 01"» a ‘
bleni ed surprise and disappointment. W;
‘_‘ What are you doing here?” inquired tho' . ‘
brig’s captain, as_ his boat came close to. the ‘ "
canoe. ‘ 
“ What are you doin’ hyar?” said Ben. '- 4’“
“ I‘hnt‘s my own businees. You Yankees are. '
confoumledly inquisitive.” ‘ ‘
“ By the ’tarnull" cried Ben. “Yer put me
in mind of the dog, that com‘d to eat another ,
do ’8 bone. and when t‘other dog bited ofl' his ' "'
tai , told him he war a mean imperlite raskll to ’
disturb a poor “chap” when be war eatin’.” V
“ That’s neither here nor there,” said the cap fir.
tain. “Will you or will you not answer my ' 
quesiifn?" 1 th ’bo t it n as  ‘
" intel yerone ing a , d n. 
“ Well?" a?“ i 
“ I didn't come hyar far to answer ques-' , 
tions.” . \ .,
“ Why do you handy words with him?" said
Dirk to the captain. “Tell him and the other
to clear out. or that you will shoot them do‘wnafi
with your pistol!” -‘ ' Y .

 
 

   

 

 

 

 
 

 

     
 
    
   
   
   
  
    
   
  
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
    
  
 
 
   
    
   
    
   
  

."

2

’

 

   

a“.

' finance, with the Indian lying

 matted hair stained with sand, and

5', nonsense.

 
   
  
      
  

 

80

x»

“ pafd and I kin 'ulla tri ger I reckin ”
(luieligy remarked Ben, Es he coc ed his rifle. ’

v “I on't want to harm you ” said the captain
to the boys, “ but I think I know what you
have come here for. ”

“Of course we know what the are here for I”
cried Dirk. impatiently, “and t e sooner they
clear out the better for theml”

“ O’yn up, and say you are looking for the gold

ve.
' ‘ And what if we are?” said Frank.
“ If there is such a cave you must see that it
ison English und,” said the captain.
“ I must a low I don’t see that,” said Ben.
. “ We’re clue to the line—right alongside o’ yer

- ' British Columbia land° but still yer must own

that these rocks is on Washin ton Territory.”

“ The rocks— as; but it t ere is a one ex-
tending from un er them, only ten feet further
to the north, that cave is under British terri-

to .”
 don‘t stir from hyar. I am on American
.ground,” responded Ben, as he laid one hand on
a rock, near the cave.
“You must give up all idea of the gold cave,

 at orig rate,” cried the captain.

“ thar is sech a cave, yer kin bet I’m not

- \ . the-coon to give it up,” was the hunter’s reply.

Dirk and the captain now held a conference

, in a low voice.
/ Then the boat was directed alongside of the
beach, and the captain sprung out, followed by

, a con is of his men.

~ “ ow, then,” he said, turning to Ben, “I
‘ warn you to keep away from the gold cave, if

_ , .we find it. If you do not, 1 shall have to use

orce.

“ Two kin play at that ame,” answered Ben.
' " Come, Frank, we must ook fur that cave.”
' Both parties, however, searched in vain.

“It is very strange?” said the captg‘n. “I
am sure I saw the akash disappear at this
place. He is probably hidden in some of the

ttle hollows, among the rocks. Here.he is,
now!” he added as he suddenly pulled the
rostrate in it
from under an overhanging roc ,the mouth of

' x which had been hidden b seaweed.

“The cave must be t ere, tool” cried Dick,
eagerly.
‘No, there is no cave there; the space there
ylp' not five feet long," answered the captain,
taking a careful survey of the place.
' ‘The Wakash, with his wild eyes, his black,
reen with
. the slime of the see, his tattered b anket, and

_ .his bunched shoulders, presented a strange,

weird appearance as he rose in the canoe and
:mreilat the persons who were now gazing
n on m.
' p“ Come,” said as captain, “own up that thlfi
' ato of o a ut o muses-cave isa

U y ugon’t begafrald, we won't hurt

.‘ on."

one of the Sea-Mole is in many caves,” he
answered. V

“ And there is no gold in any of them?”

“ There are old fishes, and the Mole loves
, to atoh them, or they are lamps in his caves,
' bu there is no other gold.” -

r

*  The Wakasb broke into aloud laugh. “ The ‘

Hunter-Part! Ben.

 

l

.-

As the speaker was partly insane, it was dit-
flcult to decide whether he told the truth or
not.

“You must come with me aboard my vessel,”
said the captain, “and I will tell you what I
will give you if you lead me to the gold cave.”

But the W’akash now sprung into his own
canoe, and, paddling swiftly to the northward,
was soon lost to view in the fog, beyond.

“Pull for the brig!” cried the disappointed
captain. And in spite of Dirk’s remonstrances,
he headed the boat in the direction of his vessel.

“ We’ve got rid of those troublesome fellows,
at last,” remarked Frank to Ben.

“We haven’t seen the last of ’em yer kin
bet,” answered Ben. “That varmint birk will
soon persuade them Englishers to come back
and attack us, of I aren’t mistaken.”

Scarcely was the boat out at sight, when Ben
directed the canoe to land.

“ VVe’ll take another good look fur that gold
cave,” he said.

“After all, do you think there is any such
place?"

“Yes I do. The Wakash told them English
thar war not, jest to make ’em giVe up the’
s’arch. Now, then,” he added, as he sprung
from the canoe, “you better take a look
along shore, to the north, while this coon goes
t‘other way. Somehow I feel almost sartint
the place we are lookin’ fur are somewhur near
hyar.

The canoe having been secured to a. project—
ing rock, the boys moved along shore in opposite:
directions.

Finally Frank found himself near a little bay,
bordered by many rocks. This bay he had pre—
viously examined with Ben on the side where
the rocks faced the water. Now, however, he
clambered among the rugged elevations on the
land side. As he moved hither and thither,
peering about him, his attention was suddenly
drawn to a broad rock beneath him, having an
opening in the top. he descended, and looked
through the opening, to discover a hollow,
about ten feet deep, with a rocky floor.

He was turning awa. disappointed, when he
noticed the e of an o d rope, protrudin from
a. clump of ushes, near him. He pulled the

rope out, and perceived that it was about six ~

feet long, with an iron hook on the end of it.

It at once occurred to him that the rope
might have been need as a means for descending
into the hollow. But what was/ there in this
hollow to induce any person to take that
trouble?

The boy fastened the hook against a protuber-
ance on the edge of the opening, and thus climb-
od down into the cavity.

It was not more than eight feet in area, bor-
dered by a rugged. rocky wall on each side.

“ Might as well have saved myself the trouble
of comin down here ” muttered the lad.

He he climbed the rope half-way on his re-
turn when the book, whic he had neglected to
secure Very carefully, slipped from the rotu-
berance against _whioh it had been plac , and
the boy fell upon the rocky floor below.

He came down upon his seat, and although,
firmed by the shock, he was not much hurt. .

aughing at his mishap. he placed both hands;

I

   
  
   

.Wfl"...

Hunter-Paul Ben.

’I‘

 

on top of a round bowlder, near which he had
fallen, and pulled upon it to draw himself to his

feet.

The bowlder by the pull he gave it. was
slightly rolled rom its place, and now Frank
saw acrevice between its lower edge and the
tiger barge enough for him to thrust his hand
t roug .

His curiosity was aroused. He rolled the
bowlder from its position, and discovered that
it bad concealed an aperture through which a
man would be able to pass.

“ Hillcal Now things begin to look bright-
er,” he commented. ‘ Wonder what there is
down there?”

He looked through the hole and saw, afew
feet beneath him, a shelving floor of rock.

He dropped down upon it and moved along.
At first he was obliged to stoop, but the root
became higher as he kept on, and finally he
found himself at the font of the descent. ,

He was now in a large cave, so dimly lighted
by the opening through which he had come that
he could no longer see his way.

Taking a match from his waterproof—safe he
lighted it, and by the brief glow he beheld a
bottle in which was thrust a candle on a rock{
shelf near him. The sight thrilled him wit
joy, for the presence of this article showed him
that the cave had previously coutained some
human being.

Had he found, at last, the abode of the Sea-
Mole?

As he looked about him, after lighting the
candle, he could not doubt that such was the
case.

There were a couple of fishing-spears and a
sea~wolf skin dress hanging on the wall at one
side; in a corner there was a couch of skins, and
near it he saw a water-j ug, a sack, and a tin-
cup.

But where was the gold of which the We.»
ktlSh had spoken?

Not a trace of this could the boy find,_al-
though be carefully examined the walls,_which
it is true, in some laces, glittered. brightly.
This glitter had at rst deceived him, hut'he
found it to consist of a substance something
like quicksilvor—a mere moisture, which could
be scraped OE With a knife. _

“The poor lunatic must have meant this
when he spoke of gold,” muttered the boy.
“But, it so, where did he get the gold lumps
which he showed me and Ben!”

0n reflection, Frank concluded that the
Wakash had had these pieces of gold, procured
grabs.ny from the mountains, for some time in

is ossession. _

“ will go to Ben, and tell him what a Wild-
goose chase we have been an,” said Frank to

imself, as he hastily returned toward the.

opening above. _

By throwing up the hook-rape, after passing
through the a erture, be caused it to catch on
a protruding E
enabled to climb from the hollow. ' .

He soon found Ben, who, on hearing his
story, went with him to the cave.

“Yes, this are the Wakash’s house—that’s
shore,” said the hunter, gazinfl‘ around him,”

 

I
l

nob of rock, and he was thus,

and. as yer say than“: no sold Mar. but let’s _

looklnef thar aren‘t some other cave, next to this
0110

Fora time they searched in vain, but, at
length. behind a rocky column! close to one
Slde of the cave, they found another opening,
heading into a second cavern, smaller than the

rs .

“Now, then, jest hold the candle h or, of
yer please,” said Ben, advancing and coking
closely at the wall. ' '

Frank held the light, so that it fell on certain
clumps of rock, adhering to the wall, when a2
bright, reddish yellow luster was perceptible,
Hillsillnlg hero and there in spots and little
ru gi-s

“Thur you are!" cried Ben, triumphantly.
“ Hyiir’s gold, and no mistake! These clump!
of rock is gold quartz, shore as you’re born!”

“Then our fortune is made!” cried Frank,
exultingly, “You don’t think this cavaison -
British ground. '

“It sart’intly are not on British ground. I

fur that.”
“ You think the cave is under water?”
“ It are, pard.
I’m shore of that. See!” ,
And he showed Frank, on his hand, several
drops of water, which had fallen dawn through
the roof above the heads of the boys. ' r '

u I thought I felt water dropoing a moment 

ago,” said Frank.
.

Yes; it comes through the roof. The rock :"
are not solid enough to keep the water above it ‘ v ".-

from leakin’ through. See uhar!’ headded,’

.s

;. ,'

   

. reckin it don’t extend fur enough under water. ‘ 

It goes along under the bay— ‘ "

pointing to a space in he roof where there was i. 

a. crack on four sides. forming an irre
square.
the sea will force that rock outl”

"Let us hurr , then, and get all tbegold we
can," said Fran “ before that happens.” '

“ It won’t be long ’l‘ore the wcig to" 

x.

“ We ought to hev a hammer or an ax to 
knock off these knobs of gold quartz," said Ben; 

‘5 but we’ll hev to usesomethiu else. Thar’s the .f -

fishin' spears which won’t do."
As he turned to go into the adjoining cave 150..
procure one of the are, he beheld the fuee‘

of some person. who ad evidently been watch- , 
drawn. from , ‘,

ing him and Frank, suddenly wit
the entrance.

  

 

He sprung forward quickly, and caught a ~ ‘

glimpse of a form asit disappeared in the gloom.  J
of the passage along the sloping, rocky floor. ,‘~

leading to the opening above. .
“ Iiilloal it’s that varmint, Dirk, shore

«Pin, {'-

alive l” cried Ben, in a voice which was distinofr ’5‘”

ly audible to Frank. \ ;
. The latter joined his friend in gursuit of the
intruder, but when the two passe though-tho"
opening, they caught only a» glimpse of

 

heels. as he disappeared over the ledge above . j

the hollow, after climbing the rope.
“Our fun is sp’iledl” said Ben.

and will have ’em upon us tore long!”

 

“That in? 
kil has persuaded them Englishers to comeback 1

, /

CHAPTER XIX.
CONCLUSION.

l

  

‘\

Tim boys uickly returned to the j." ii
each nroviddd with one of the  g:

  

 Hunter-Para Ben.

 

with which he endeavored to dislodge some of
\the precious quartz knobs from the wall.

It was slow, useless work.

As the two still toiled, they suddenly heard
vorces above, followed by the tramp of hot
she

‘Pfiyar they come i" cried Ben.

, A minute later the English captain appeared

at the entrance of the gold cave.
“ This cave is on British ground,” he said.
“You have no right to take anything from it.”
“ I differ with yer,” answered Ben. “ it are
mt on British ground. It don’t go fur enough
under water fur that; besides, you kin see that

' it extends more west than nvrth.”

V. “I repeat that is on the English line. It is

about opposite the southwest end of British

Columbia. I hope you will go away quietly,

and give me no occasion to use force.”

“We diskivered the cave and by rights it
belongs to us!” cried Ben. , “ on kin not come
in here!” he added, as the captain drew his pis.

l.
2., “Forward men!” shouted the English skip-
per to his sai ors. “ Take these fellows prison-
u"‘ amend if they resist, shoot them down 1”
r.  _ he spoke, however, he saw the muzzle of
the hunter’s rifle on a line with his head,

while Frank also held his weapon ready for ser-

8.
“Only one of yer kin come through that pas-
lr. rage at a. time,” said Ben, “ and whoever comes

" through, comes stun dead I”

" “NOW, men i” cried the captain, putting him-
self at the head of his crew.
With a. cheer, the party were about to make
 'the rush, when aloud crash was heard, and a
I 1 e bowlder fell down from above the entrance
t‘ot egoldi cave, completely blocking the nor-
:'- «row 0 mug.
- - -, burst of unearthly laughter followed,
f ’ and the next moment the Wakash, flourishing a
j.'. club-hammer. sprung from an alcove, above the
F? "headsof the two boys, where he had been con-
cooled.
. , “ You herel" cried Frank, in surprise.

“ Ho! hql the Sea—Mole is everywhere!” was
 ‘the answer. " He came into the cave after the
,' yhitebo left it to g and tell his friend. See
- ~wbat he as brough them.” And, as he spoke,

L- the Indian held up the club-hammer.
.i' ,‘,‘ Whar did yer git it?” inquired’Ben. “ It
, are est the thin we want.”
_. - “ he Mole be it in the cave.”
i ' 9‘ And how did you manage to send that
 ~. bowlder down to closer up the entrance?” inquir-
»: _ ed Frank.
-. ,1“ Rock was loose up there. Wakash had to
" roll it cliche edge of the shelf—that was all.”
' The Indian commenced to dance about the
cave, laughing with elfish glee, while the En-
1 , glish sailors endeavored to force the bowlder
. - . mm the entrance into which it was jammed.
_ With the club-hammer, Ben now went to
, work at the gold-quartz knobs, and in a short
-, , time he had dislod ed three, which fairly lit-
9', fared, somuch of he precious metal did 1; ey
 contain.
‘ “ yar We are—some thousands of dollars
,rleh than we war a few minutes ago!” cried
,V 

\

i,‘

 

On hearing these words, the English sailors
uttered cries of rage, and redoubled their efforts
to dislodge the bowlder.

“ Go to the brig for crowbars and an ax,” the
skipper was now heard to say to his mate.
“Bring of! a few more men with you, and see
that they are armed with musketsl’

An hour later the blows of an ex on the
bowlder indicated that the mate had returned.
Hearse voices filled the outside cave and blend-
ed with the noise made by the flying pieces of
rock as the ax struck the heavy impediment
blocking up the passage.

Meanwhile Ben had by this time chopped oi!
half a dozen knobs from the wall. As much of
the gold as could be extracted from them the
boys put in their wallets, and there they also
put the pieces of quartz which were left.

“ English breaking bowlder. See!" cried the
Wakash at this juncture, as nearly half of the
rock now fell out, split in twain, leaving an
opening almost large enough to admit a slender

. form.

“Hooray! hooray!” cheered the sailors.

The Sea-Mole clapped both hands to his sides
and gave utterance to a most unearthly yell.

“ Go back, English! go back, or the Sea-Mole
drown you!" he continued, peering through the
opening already made.

A cry of derision was the response.

Instantly the Wakash, picking up the hammer
which Ben had placed on the floor, ran to the
further end of the cave, and with the activity
of a baboon climbed by the rough protruding
knobs to the ceiling of the apartment.

“What are you goin to do? Come down,
Wakash!” cried Frank, 0 alarm.

“Yes, come down, yer crazy coon i" shouted
Ben. “ Good Lord! yer’a not going to flood
the cave?”

“Ho! ho! all drown together! the Sea—Mole
and all! The Mole has no more a cave to live
inl We die quick and we go to “ Hunting-
ground ” together—poor Indian and all 1”

Ben endeavored to reach the half-crazed sav-
age in time to prevent his accomplishing his
purpose: but the blows of the Wakash on the
cracked square of the roof were fast and furious,
a hole was soon made, and the water com-
menced to pour in. The opening was quickly_en-
larged and now a perfect torrent came roaring
down in to the cavern. .

The English captain and his men ran for
their lives. reached the hollow and climbed out
of it, but Ben and Frank vainly endeavored to
force their way through the opening which had
been made between the bowlder and the edge of
the narrow entrance. The water was roaring
and tumblln at their heels; there was not a
minute to be est.

“ Now, Frank, take hold of what’s left of the
bowlder, and I think we kin pull it out of the
passageway!” shouted Ben. __“Come, Wakash!
yer foolish coon, er better Jme us!” he added,
addressing the ndian, who, however, only
shook hi head, as he stood clinging to the wal ,
with a. strange, greenish luster in his wild eyes.

Pulling with might and main the boys sue-
ceeded in getting the broken bowlder out of the
entrance.

By this time the water was up to their hips.

  
  
 
  
   
    
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
    
  
 
  
   
  
  
   
    
   
  
   
    
   
     
    
  
   
      
  
   
   
   
   
   
       
     
     
     
      

p...“ ..

Hunter-Paul Ben.

 

and as they sped along, they heard a. noise like
thunder, behind them.

This was caused by the descent of a perfect
cataract into the cavern, the pressure of the
water having enlarged the o ening which had
already been made in the reel.)

The foaming, boiling avalanche of waves
rushed upon the lads, reaching to their necks
and almost taking them off their feet. In fact,
Frank was soon hauled over by the mighty
rush, and he would have been carried backward
had not Ben, who had reached the ascending
floor of rock, caught him by the collar and jerk-
ed him up to his side. The boys scrambled up
the ascent, casting but one glance behind them
as they went. That brief look enabled them to
catch a glimpse of the Sea-Mole, who, spinning
round and round in a whirlpool some yards
back, was uttering hideous cries of triumph.

By the time the lads reached the hollow
above, the voice of the madman was hushed
forever, under the Waters, which by this time
had filled the cave. As the lads SPiZed the rope
to climb to the ridge above, Dirk appeared
bending over it with two pistols, which he
pointed at. their heads.

“ You’ll never come up here alive 1” he cried,
exultingly.

In fact, situated as they now were, it seemed
as if neither Ben nor Frank could escape the
deadly weapons aimed toward them.

But as Dirk was about to pull trigger, he was
suddenly hauled over backward by a pair of
strong hands, and the bullets from the dis-
charged pistols flew whistling upward.

The next moment the boys were on the ridge,
to _be greeted by a dozen stout fellows in the
uniform of American man-o’-war’s-men.

It waspne of these—the coxswain—who bad
pullelerk back as he was about to fire.

Their story was soon told. Lucy Loomis, on
reaching Victoria, had found a small American
surve mg craft in the harbor, and to the cup-
tain s e had spoken of the danger menacing the
two boys from the Indians. whom she said she

\

THE END.

 

feared were in pursuit of them,and would evenh
uully capture them. ‘
The captain, who had been about to send a
surveying party in a boat along the northwest
coast of Washington Territory, promised that he.
would keep alookout for them.
They had arrived near this place when they

heard the screams of the Wakash, and, follow- ‘

ing the direction of the noise, they gained the
ridge over the hollow in time to prevent Dirk
from shooting down the lads.

The discomfited youth slunk away and joined

his companions—the captain and crew of the ‘*

English boat—who, on s eing the American
sailors approach, had withdrawn from the vi—
cinity of the ridge.

By the time the boys had explained how they
had been treated by the English captain and his
menI the latter were in their craft, halt-way
back to the brig.

The lieutenant of the surveyor now made'
soundings, by which it was proved that the rock
under water and which had contained the gold

cave, did noé project upon the British line, but ‘ I l

was fully two feet from at.

The lads remained in the surveyingboat until '
it returned to Victoria. There Frank visited
Lucydat the house of her punt, and was well re-'
ceive .

The gold he had obtained he sold to a coal i
merchant for three thousand dollars. Subse«
quently he and Ben hired divers and machinery ,
to try if they could not obtain more gold from
the flooded cave. ’

Their efforts, however, were unsuccessful, and j
although attem ts were also made by other ’
parties, not gol
pay expenses. Dirk, secretl
to get at the under water go d by means of a
diving-suit, lost his life in the attempt. '

About a year after his death Frank and Lucy

Loom is were married. They now reside, happy 3'

and contented, in a pleasant home near Pacific
City, where they are often visited by Ben
Beaver, who is still one of their best friends. '

811'

enough could be obtained to  i ;
trying. one day 2’

    

1‘ ‘.
\ 
\ v.3.

 

 

 

 

l Dem-hunter the Boy Scout. llv Oil (‘nnmem
3 Bull'ulo mu, from Boyhood lo Mnnhoml. liyl'nl. l‘rrn-
Lian lnrzrnhnm.
8 KM. Curmu, King nl'liniilos. B.- Alln-rt \\'. Ann-n.
4 Gordon Lllllc, llw Hwy-Interprch-n1lliel'nwm-uu.
Mug... n, n ' mm...
5 Bru ll Aduln Uldbn “a Buy [Kiri].
6 Dendwood I'll-k nu nllny. ll '
7 \Vllll lllll. tins l'inllnl l’rinvu. By 1‘. ingrnhnni.
8 The l’rulrlo Bunch. [iv Joseph E. llndgcr, Jr.
13 rlliVovlanJot-k. hB,\'\.‘A.l[. Post.
exnu on ,t a. “Mung ’ nu. Fly Cu}. P. In rahnm.
11 Charley Skylnrk. liy 'H. il. Si...hinnl.g
19 Morlponn Marl-II. ily Jusvph ii. Bllllgl‘l’, Jr.
13 Rovlng'llcu. liy John J. .‘llllsllflil.
l4 8 rlug fiteel, King of lllks Bush. lly .l. E. llnduer, Jr.
15 “lde-Awoke George. By Eil\Vl\r4] “'illcll.
16 The lloy “'lzurd. liv Burrv l(lll;j;_’illll.
1'? Peter l’epperzrunn, the Grvenhurn l'rum (:Uiillllll.

By

liv Ingrulinm.
iwnrul L. \Vlnruicr.

my

18 Agoilhr‘ m). r l l
r on t e rn r c, and Anlnteur Hun err-
ou the Buflulo Runge. By Oil Cumin-s. t
19 The Fortune llunter; or, Roving Jun nu Miner,
Cowlmy_ Trapper nnd llnnler. By A. ll. l’ml.
$0 Trn1ppcr Tom, thr. Woml Imp. My 'l‘. c. ll.ulr:in;:l\.
31 Ye] ow Infillng Boy Clliefol lln: l‘nu’nucn. liv Cui.
Premise lngrnh . ‘

B2 The Snow Troll. By T. C. litlrbnuuh.

28 Old Grlzzlv Adams. By Dr. Frnnk vanii.

34 oodl- an “'nters. By Cnpt. Frederick Whilmlcer.

25 A Ilolllug Stone: lnciulcnln in le Cnrcnr nn Srnnnri

Lnnd "l' Col. l’runlinn lngrnhnnn liy VVIn. R. l‘Ivsh-r.

26 Red Illver Rovers. By C. Dunning Clurk. '

81 Plaza undvl’lnll mum Adventures nl‘“ lurkskin

Slur," (Mn . Sum. 5. Hull.) By (Sui. l'. lngrnhnm.

98 The Swor l’rlnce. ’l‘lm Runinnlic Life 01 c..1. .nun.

smry. By Cn t. Frmlarick \VhilLer.

29 Snow-Rhoe om. lly’i‘. C. llnrlmnuh.

80 Paul de Lucy, the Fruncll licilsl Charmer. By C.

Dunning Clark. ‘
81 Round the Com» Flre. Br Jan-uh E. Badger, Jr.
89 White Beaver, the ludinn hleilil'inu Chief. By (301.
Premian In ralmm.

88 The Boy rounder. By Carin. Fred. Wllilllliwr.

34 The Chane ol’ the Grentw “‘4‘ Sting, and, (mum

and Donne. Bv C. Dunnan (Jlnrlt.

85 0M Tar Knuckle nnd His Boy ( 'iinnis. By R. Sinrimrii.

86 The :DMhlng Dragoon; nr, 'l‘ln- Story of Gen. Gunrze

A. Cuner. By Cnpt. Fred. Whillnkcr.

37 . llht-llnwk Geor . By Ch]. l‘l'enlien Iugrninun.
88 The Boy Exllcn of lberlu. lly T. C. llnrlmuull.
39 The Young: Benr llunteru. lh' Morris leu ing.
40 Smart film, the LAM with n l cw] Ili-nll. lly Ed. \Viliutt.

. 41 The Sc'ttlcr’n Sou. By l':| \\'lll'4l '4. liliin.

4% “'nlt Fer usou‘n Crulne. llg. ' llunnin: (‘Inrk.

48 Rifle and cvnlvor. By Cum. l'lcll. \\'liiunkur.

“The Lord: Boy \Vlnuleru. ' . C. iinrhnugh.

‘5 Br 0 lly, llIn Sndillu [‘rinuu. lly (Inl. lngmhmn.

4B Dick. the fltownwuy. lly Clinrius Morris.

4'? The Colorado Boyu. lly Jusn'ph E. “minor, lr.

48 The I’umnnn lluntern. llv ’l‘. ('3. lltlrluluull.

49 The Adventuroun Life of Nehrnnkn Chnrlle.
By Col. Prentiss lnurnhnni.

50 Jack Hurry mm Tom, the Threu (‘hnnrpiun Brothers.
By (3an Fred. Whittnker.

51 The Youu Lnnd-Lubber. By (T. D. Clnrh.

52 The Boy arm-urn. By '1‘. C. Hnrhnugh.

58 Honest. flurry. lly Charles llnrril. _

54 Calil‘urnlu Joe. lly Col. l’ronlinn lnurnhnm.

55 Tln Treuel. tha Finaivr. Ily Eil‘Vlll’ll Willem.

56 The Snow Iluutern. lly llnrrv de Fox-rent.

5'! Harry Samara, the Snilur Buy Magician. By S. W.

Pearce.
68 The Adventuroul Lll'o ol‘ Curtuln Juok, the
Border Hay. ny Col. l'ranllna hum. mm.
59 Llllfl‘ Tlm. l-hr Mule llny uhhu iVlincrl. By C. Mnrris.
60 The Young Troll Hunter». ‘ .llnrhnngh.
61 The 'l/‘lser Hunter». lly Jul-9p .. udurr. Jr.
02 Doctor urver. llu- “ Evil Spirit." ol‘lhu Plnlnll. By
Col. Prnnliu In rrnhnm.
68 BlImk "one Ill. By Rozar Slarirnck.
64 Younfi 11le Talbot. By Albert w. Aikm.
65 The oy Pllot. By Col. Prentiss Inzrnham.
86 The Desert Rover. By Chum Motrin.

 

 

i7. VNW’ PST-361:“;
RA

#3
" Pr

6’? 'l‘l'xnn (‘hurllm “w ‘my nnngur. DyFul. lngrnlnun.
11H I.“le “"10. lb f‘nliluin “ Ilruin " Adnum.
(ill The You" I Nlhlllnt. li_\' ('linrlou Mun-in,
f0 '10", the 1,“ [’0‘, ‘-_\' .\lnjor ll. ll. Flulldunl.
'Zl Rutl’llobnurtuutl Illa llenr. liy Ciquuin “ liruin ”
Adnms.
The Ice lilo hunt.
The. Young .lonne-Iluutcrn. ll) \\'. ll. .\lnnnin;;.
- The Boy (‘m'nl- Flnllcrv‘. lly R m-r Slnrhnck.
Revolver Bill". ly l'lii. Prentiss Inurnlinm.
The Condor lilllerr‘. lly'l‘. (I. llnilvnngh.
Llul Llonheeln, lhu Young ’l‘igrr Fighter. liy Rug"
Slnrhuck.
Flutbout Fred. ly Edward \Viilrll. Rn-ndy Oct. 10.
“none, the llullll‘l’. liv ('nplnin l". \\'hitln|..cr.
) Kentucky “on. liv Roger Slnrhin-k.
The K". Cur-«bu Club. lly T. L‘. llnrlmunlh
52 Link- But-k. the Buy (;..i.l.-. iv num- Rinugnld.
58 Pony Bob, the lleckleus llitlur of the Rorlxiu. 15y Col.
Prentiss Inzrnhnm.
S4 Cnptnln Fly-
!5 (‘untuln Rallil
{m-

.

Iiy (We. Fn'llt‘lli'h’ \vhmnlu-r.

Pure

‘31. Nah

I I'l'l O)*)’)‘l>)’)

flht. lly Joseph E. Bridger, Jr.
19 You";

l‘lxplurrr. By C. 1). Clark.
Mi Llule Dnu kn. My Morris lladwiluz.
$7 The Menu «No llun liy Mni. ll. Grenville.
ii The Boy rmupn. l J. M. iiull'nmn.
- ’l.ou|.r~hor(- Llje. _\'( . ll (‘inrk. '
Rovlng Rule, Cuslur’s Lilllo Scout. By T. C. llnr-
hnnuli.
Oregon Jnnll, the “'iznril Rifln. By Roger Slnrbuck.
2 ll 'rlenuc Klt. Ii A. F. llull.
rlm: Jake. By Br ‘nnl. llnnibridga.
Hi I Spellvc, llm Broad mm llny. lly Ell. Willem.
" Mom-ow to Kllrerln. My (‘linrlra )lnrrin.
' li‘lghtlng‘ Fred. lly ’l". ('. llnrbnngh.
93' Crulne of the Flyau'nv. lly L“. Dunning Clnrk.
Em The no ' \‘lrznmncn. liv Mnj. H, n. swam.
99 The, “' Ilte 'l‘lxeru. Cflpl. (,‘lmrlen Howard.
100 The Know-Shoe T . lly St. George Ruthbonu.
101 Murlmm, the lltlnwn (4i By Edwnrd S. Ellis.
102 The Flvuwny Allout. By C. Dunnng ark.
103 Pm )‘lulloncy’u Adventuer BylLLJ-denrdl.
04 1‘! Boy Pro! color. 153' Ron-W Sl bunk.
nee, the “and Wilrh. By Edle Emerson.
My (trulnrrl. lly Edwnnl Willow.
order lloverl. lly .1. Milton llnmnan.
. lhn “'olf-Queen. RV ('n it. llownrd Lilll‘lvll‘.
09 (‘hrlnllouluI lheWhito Mnn’al‘rienll. llyE.S. Ellil.
0 l’lm-ky Joe. tlt‘. Buy Avenger. lng. .\l. llofl‘nmn.
I The Border Gunnu 'or. llv James L. “OWI'n.
2 Imi't-llnulled Pete, the Double—Knife. By Joseph
E. lllldflfif, Jr.
3 The. Rlver Rlllen. By Cnpl. .l. I". C. Adnma.
-l Alone on the l’lulnl. l_ ‘ ‘ “lull.
“3 hlh‘t‘r llorn, nnd His llille Fil’L'llL‘lllll. Hy ll. Hlnrlmck.
116 Ex loll: of'lll-zelilnh Smith, the 15x

liy Inn-nun Ruillnzm.
11'? The Young Muslnnuern.
“3 Old Trupn; LT, the Buy liivnls. By Burry Ringgnhl.
119 Center “hut. lilo, \\’hitn f‘rmv. By T. C. llnrbnugh.
120 A Hot Troll. 13y ('iiurivn Morris.
121 Hunter l’urd lh-n. Dy Rum-r Stnrlnn-k.
123 The, lnqulmnux’ Queen My (LWnldo llmwna.
128 Tim, elm liny Acrulml. liy ('hxu’lcs Murrifl.
llcinly Allflllnl ‘Jl.
12-1 Queen “(U-Ila, the BurilurGirl. By Henry .l.'l‘hnmnl.
anny Allulihl 2x.
125 Tom Tulmr, tho Buy Fugitive. By Bnrry Ringgohi.
Randy Sept. .1.
126 Mink (‘ont‘ Hm Dunlh-Shnl. lly Jun. E. Dmlger, Jr.
lhrnlly sort. n.

127 The Deer Ilunleru. liy John J. hlnrahnil.
nunly Srp‘n Ix. -

oodsnnm.

By (7.1). (‘lnrk.

Bentlle’u Boy’n Library in fur sale hy nil Newsdmian.
fivu cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt nfaix cunll each.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Puhlllheru,
98 “'llllnm Etreet, New York.