Copyrighted, 1889. by BIADLI AND Ann”, Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y.. ns Second Class Mail Matter. Feb. ‘2, 1889.

 

2.50 Published Weekl b Beadle and Adams > ,
NOI  33339315 No. 98 WILL¥AMySTH NEW YORK. , F‘sergg'lts- VOL XXI

 

TO HIS HORROR, HE BEEEHD THE FORM OF THE SUPPOSED DEAD—KYD.

 

Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

 

Kyd’s Bold Game;

THE DEATH TRAIL (MYSTERY.

BY PAUL BIBBS,
AUTHOR. or “ LYNX—CAP,” pm, arc

CHAPTER I.
A DISAPPOINTED ASSEMBLAGE.

THE village of Montville was situated on the
right bank of the Minnesota, some eighty or
ninety miles below Big Stone Lake, the river’s
source. ‘

On a pleasant morning in May, years ago, a
number of individuals were gathered before a
large—sized. and not inelegant looking log-cabin,
that stood in the center of a piece of open

round, about two miles from the outskirts of

ontville, and was the property of Jasper
Arfort.

Arfort was the wealthiest, if not the most re-
spected man to be found in those parts, being

ssessed of a large tract of land, numerous

orses, and a fine herd of cattle. Besides this,
rumor said, he kept in some place known to
himself only, a bag of gold; but this rumor, like
several others said of him, had not the slightest
foundation in fact.

It was, as yet, quite early, and the owner of
the ground upon which the crowd was assembled
had not yet made his appearance. Most of
these assembled were villagers, with a fair
sprinkling of hunters and trappers.

“ Wazh!” sail one of them latter, his patience
beginningr to tire, by the non-appearance of
Art'ort. “It’s high time the show was over.
Seems to me that the b )SS is a-takln' it kin'ler
easy like, considering—"

The complaint was interrupted by Arfort’s
appearance from within the cabin. He was a
man past forty years of age, tall, but not the
possessor of any great amount of strength,
either physical or mental. His hair was gray,
and short. and his eyes were of a bright blue
line. Unlike those who zreetedhis appearance,
he did not wear the common garb of the
frontier, but one cut in the latest “ Broad way ”
style. On one of his fingers flashed a valuable
diamond ring. his feet were incased in calf-
skin boots, soil on his head a black felt hat.
With Jasper Arfort, dress was a passion, and
always had been. It mattered not to him
whet. or he was in a fashionable thorough-
fare in St. Louis or New Orleans, or whether he
was in the forest, his apparel was neat and
scrupulously clean. So, too, was the interior
of his cabin, as a glance inside would have
proved,

A storm of “ Good-mornings” greeted his
coming, and with an unconcealed smile of
vanity, flattered, he walked briskly toward the
ossembla e.

“ Well.’ he said. as he neared them. “ you have
come to be witnesses of the punishment I invari—
ably inflict upon all red~skinintruders. eh? Gad!
You won‘t be disappointed. But where‘s Rollo?
Why isn’t be here, I should like to know?" con-

\
eluded the owner, in an angry tone. Then
« raising his voice to its highest pitch, he called
for Rollo—the mun of all work for the settler.

Rollo quickly put in an appearance. He was a
long, look specimen of the New—Englander,
brimful of wit and good—humor. He was
habited in a very old and torn suit of buckskin,
and his complexion, by exposure and the ex-
cessive use of “ tine cut," was ol’ 5. nut—brown.
A pair of small and twinkling orbs, hair worn
long, and surmounted by a but not unlike those
worn by the Knights of the sawdust rlng, com-
pletes his description.

“ Where is the prisoner?” demanded Arfort,
hastily.

“ Safe and sound, I reckon. Want him?”

“ Yes. Bring him here at once.”

The Yankee quitted the spot, wending his
way to a small-sized leg but, some hundreds of
yards distant.

This was flat—roofed, with no windows, the
only ingress being a low and very narrow
doorway, against which lay a heavy onkcn log.
This Rollo pulled aside, and by dint of a no
small amount of exertion, he forced himself
inside the hut. ’

In one corner of this miserable but, upon a

pile of straw, lay a human figure—an Indian.
His head was resting upon his arm, his eyes be~
ing turned wistfully toward Rollo.
' A glance at the young Indian would have
shown him to be a prisoner. His wrists, and
ankles, too, were bound together by buckskin
thongs. These Rollo at once untied.

"Come, you’re wanted,” said the Yankee, in
a voice not unkind. "I’m deucedly sorry for
you, but I warned yew several times to keep
clur 0' the governor’s grounds.”

From the demeanor of the lndian, it was evi-
dent that he knew the fate, or punishment, to
be expected. He hail been taken prisoner on
the premises of J asper Arfort, and he had, more
than once, seen his red brethren undergo pun-
ishmenti‘or a like offense.

“ Well,” Arl'ort demanded of the Indian, at
the same time confronting him, “ what have
you to say for yourself, eh? You know well
enough the hatred I have for you red-skins, and
my reasons for wishing you to keep clear of my
land. Only the other night some of your tribe
eluded the vigilance of my scouts, and the con-
sequence was, I lost several sheep, and one or
two cows. You are nothing more than a pack
of dirty thievesl" ‘

“ Kegonsa is no thief. His skin is red. but his
heart is honest.”

“He! he! he!" laughed several of the trap«
pers, Arfort joining them. “Who ever heard
tell 0’ an honest red-skin?”

“ Not I, for one.”

“ No,” said another, addressing Arfort. “ Well
put, governor. Your opinion is worth comin’
ten miles to hear.”

This piece of flattery was not without its effect
upon the settler, and Without further parley, he
ordered the savage to be tied to a tree.

He was dragged to a tree not far distant, and
quickly fastened to it in such a position that it
would be easy for the chastisar to deliver the
hlows fairly and squarely upon the victim’s

 

back.

 

Kyd’s.Bold Game.

 

During this scene, Rollo had wended his way
to the cabin, from which he now returned,
holding in his hand a long rawhide whip.

“ Ha! ha!" laughed one of the lockers-on,
taking the cruel instrument in his hand, “as
thick and well-twisted a lash as 1 ever set my
eyes on.”

“ Yes," said Arfort, “ it’s one I had made ex-
pressly by old Joe, the teamster; and a nice
little pile it cost me, too.”

“Well,” said another, “I'll pronounce my
judgment on it after its merits have been
tested.”

All but one thing was now in readiness. The
prisoner was secured, the whip was on hand,
and the crowd eager for the scene for which
they had assembled, to be enacted.

“ Who‘s to do the slashing?” was asked.

“ Here’s Jim Ashby,” was the response. “ He’ll
do, I reckon, for if any man knows how to ban-
dle a whip, it is him.”

“ Yes; come, Jim,” said Mr. Arfort. “ VVon‘t
you oblige me?“

After stepping forward a few paces, and then
halting a few seconds, in order to take a fresh
mouthful of tobacco, Jim Ashby, a long, raw-
boned teamster, from the Wisconsin lumber

re ions, took the whip in his hand.
, ' ‘he crisis had come.

The prisoner was as steady as the tree to
which he was bound, the crowd eager, and so
still was it, that a pin could have been heard to
drop, as the cruel whip was raised. But just at
this instant, 9 light figure hounded into the

crowd, and stationed itself in close proximity to

the captive savage. It was a gii young and
strikingly beautiful. Her large, dark eyes
flashed with mingled pity and indignation, and,
her jet-black hair, falling in masses upon her
shoulders and d0wn her back, gave her the ap~
penrance of some Gypsy queen.

It was Maud, Mr. Art‘ort’s only child.

“ Maud,” said her father, in a stern voice,
“ what do you mean by this?”

Hard-hearted as Jasper Arfort was, it was
seldom that he spoke harshly to his child.
When, therefore, his stern words were spoken,
the flashing eye, the angry look, disappeared in
an instant, and in a voice almost 0 supplies.-
tion, she said:

“Father, do not punish Kegonsa.
not deserve it.”

“ Maud, leave that to me.
ately to the house."

“ But, father, consider—fl

“ I will consider nothing. He is guilty of
trespassing ‘on grounds where he has no right to
be. and must be treated according] ."

Seeing that further parley Wit her angry
father would only be useless, and intimidated
by the coarse crowd around her, the young girl
turned upon her heel, and left the spot.

“ Now, then, Ashby, let us proceed,” said
Arfort.

The teamster again raised the whip.

But at this instant came another interruption.

This, too, was caused by a female, but one
differing very widely in appearance from Maud
Arfort. She was an Indian, old and wrinkled,
Itier once black hair being changed to a lighter

116.

He does

Return immedi.

 

Her appearance was no less sudden than un-
expected; and her black orbs fixed upon Arfort,
she advanced so close that it needed but the
stretching forth of a hand to have touched him.

“ Pale-face,” she said, “ beware what you doI”

“ Bewarei You old brazen»faced hag! How
dare you speak thus to me?” was Arfort’s pas—
sionate answer.

The squaw said nothing aloud, but, leaning
forward, whispered something in Arfort’s ear.

On the instant, the bystanders observed him
turn pale. Then, turning to Rollo, he ordered
him to release the captive. Hearing this, the
crowd began to move away; but, as they did
so, more than one expression of anger and dis—
apfiointment reached asper Arfort’s ears.

‘ ut he heeded them not, for his thoughts were
too busily occupied elsewhere.

CHAPTER II.

JASPER ARFORT MAKES A BARGAIN.
THAT afternoon, an hour before sundown, a
oung man neared the grounds belonging to
asper Arfort. From his mien, and the manner

in which his eye rested on everything, it was
evident that he was a stranger. He was not
over three-and-twenty, and was habited in a
hunters costume and a narrow-rimmed felt hat.
Across his shoulders was strung a light and _
finely—finishedlrifle, and in his belt was a brace
of small Colts.

Suddenly the young man came upon the fence
which served to mark the boundaries of Arfort’s
possessions. A look of surprise ShOtfiCl'OSS his
features, for the structure was evidently an un-
expected sight. Approaching close to the
fence, he laid his hand upon the upper rail with
the design of leaping to the other side, when a
voice arrested his attention.

“ Halloo, stranger! Better stay whar yew
air, I guess.”

The eyes of the stranger fell upon the long,
gaunt form of Rollo, who stood leaning on the
fence a few yards away, and as be scanned the
Yankee. a smile stole over his face.

“ Better stay where I am, eh?" he said, good-
humoredly. “Is no one ever allowed to cross
this icnce, then?”

“Waal,” answered Rollo, inserting a fresh
quantity of tobacco into his mouth, “ the fact
is, stranger, the boss is very particular about
red—skins or whites as he doesn’t happen to know,
a—comin’ into his woods. I don‘t blame him al~
together, either.”

“All right, friend,” cheerfully returned the
young fellow. “ I am glad you told me, for it
goes against me to ofl’end any one.” '

“ ){aas Sart’in. What may be your han-
dlei’

“My name is Amboy.”

“ Want tew know! From the East, bean’t
yew?”

H Yes.”

“ New Yorker, p’raps?”

“ Right, again.”

“ Yaas. Long out here?”

H No.”

“ What’s your religion? Jew, Christian, Ma-
hommedan—or, p’rhsps you air like me: one
who trusts in the Lord, an’ ain’t ashamed to
smoke a pipe with a poor man?” ‘

 

4 Kyd's Bold Game.

 

Th3 young man gave vent to a light laugh, as
he answered:

“ Well, friend, you and I do not differ much
on that score, I can promise you.”

“ Yaas. I thort so, by your cut. But what
might have fetched you out herec-land-specu-
latin’?”

u No.11

“ You air a doctor, p‘rhaps?”

“ Right, again.” ,

“ Come out here to dose us with physio, if
we happen to git down with fever, and so on,
oh?’

“ Partly," answered the young man, amused
rather than displeased at the questioning he was
being subjected to. “ The fact is, my friend,”
he continued, “I am travelinrr for m health,
and on my returnto the E at, inten writing
a book descriptive of my juroey.”

“ Hal A writer, eh?”

“ A very unworthy one, I am afraid.”

“Yaus—jess so. Waul, stranger, if you air
on the lookout for a job in that line, I can fetch
you to jest the place, I reckon.”

“ Indeed!” exclaimed the other, hardly under-
standing the import of the words.

“ Yuas. The fact is, my boss has been on
the lookout for a chap like you for some
time. He has got a heap of writin’ of some
kini or anotho to do, anl if you ain’t above
gaclgling the job, he’ll pay you Well for it, I’ll

at.

The words of Rollo were not without their ef—
fect upon the young man, for the smile which
hal been playing upon his features disappeared,
an i he said in a serious tone:

“ Where does your boss, as you call him,
live?"

“ N at far from where. Jess through the

r we.”

The young man stood for a few moments in
silence. But he was not idle; and the conclu-
sion he arrived at during that interval was thg
means of putting a difllerent aspect upon his
fortunes.

“ Well,” he said, at length, " take me to your
master, and if I like him, we may be able to
com ~ to terms."

“ J oss so, s uire. Over with ye, an’ come
along,” and ollo started for the clearing.
Epringing over the fence, Amboy followed

1m.

The first impression of the cabin upon the
young man was a favorable one; and he did
not fail to perceive that the habitant of it, who-
ever he was, was no common frontiersman.

' The site chosen for the habitation, the care ex—

ercised in its erecting, the well-kept grounds,
adorned with evergreens and flower~beds, bore
evidence that the owner was a man of both
taste and means.

Following the guide inside, the young man
was .ushere: into a neatly~furnished apartment,
through which was streaming the light oil the
setting sun. Motioning him to a seat Rollo
quittod the apartment. ‘

A few momsnts elapsed, and then the owner
of the cabin entered. The young man rose to
his feet, and the two confronted each other. A
few seconds elapsed ere either spoke. Each was
endeavoring to measure the other. ‘

 

“ Whom have I the pleasure of meeting?” de—
manded the settler.

“My name is Henry Amboy,” answered the
young man.

“ Mine is Jasper Arfort. You are heartily
welcome, sir, for we see so very little of stran-
gers in these desperate regions, that when one
does happen to come along it is a treat.”

For upward of an hour did the two remain -

there, until the darkness Warrantcd the intro.
duction of lights. But at the end of that time,
the young man found himself engaged to Arfort,
and for what purpose shall be revealed further
on. In the mean time, Amboy was to make
the cabin his home, a thin which, on his in—
troduction to the handsome and he had no oc-
casion to regret.

CHAPTER III.
A woarnr PAIR.

_ A FEW evenings later than the events related
In the last chapter trans lred, shortly after the
hour of sunset, a canoe a ct suddenly out from
the right bank of the St. Peter’s, a mile or more
above the settlement of Montville.

The craft, headed for a certain point on the
opposite bank, was propelled by a single person
——in Ojibwah of herculean proportions and
hideous aspect. His dress of buckskin and
flannel, dirty and torn as it was, would alone
have sufficed to have given him an uninvitin:
appearance. Half-concealed by his matted hair,
wasa mark—a mark left by the impress of a
red-hot iron.

The savage—Wauhesah by name~was a
marked man, and the history of that brand a
frightful one. A few years earlier than the
date of our story, he had been brought before a
backwoods jury on several occasions, each time
receiving a punishment from their hands—the
brand upon his forehead being the last one. The
crimes charged against him were various, but
whether or not he was the real perpetrator of
these could not be proved.

As we have said, the savage was heading his
canoe for a certain point of the opposite shore
of the river.

It was spring, and the river rapid, conse-
quently requiring more than ordinary labor to
prevent the canoe from being carried down the
stream with the swift current. But the Ojib-
wah was an adept with the paddle, and he was

 

not long in arriving at the point he had been

heading for.

That point lay directly beneath an overhang-
ing cliff, was accessible by water, only, and
where there was barely sufficient space for a
canoe to be placed beyond the reach of the

current. a circumstance of which he took ad— ‘

vantage. _

Then, Wading into the water a few feet, he
walked a short distance up the stream, when he
stepped out upon the pebh y hank.

As he approached the verge of the torrent,
the Ojibwah came to a bait. and east his eyes
about him in a quick, suspicious manner.

“Ugh!” be muttered to himself. “ Waube-
sah is safe. No pale-face is near.”

Then, carefully calculating every step are he
took it, the savage entered the soothing water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kyd’s Bold Game. ' 5

 

Indeed, so strong was the force of the torrent,
even close to the bank, that one less expe-
rienced than the Ojibwah would have been
swept from his feet at once.

Grasping a firm hold of it, the red—skin drew
himself out of the water to the top of a rock,
which was perfectl level. Here was disclosed
to his aze a wide ssure, wide enough to admit
the In ian’s body, huge us it was. .

Drawing from his belt his tomahawk, he
dealt several hard raps on the rock’s surface.
A moment or two later his signal was answered,
and, without more ado, he commenced to de—
scend the opening in the rock. As he descended
the passage widened, until it ended in a damp,
dark cavern, some fifteen feet square, and light-
ed by a log fire.

Seated near the fire, on the rude bench, was
the individual who had answered the signal of
the Ojibwah, and whose house the cavern was.
As he rose up on the entrance of Waubesnh, he
showed himself to be a man not far from forty
years of age, of medium stature, dark com-
plexioned, and possessed of a pair of dark, glit-
tering eyes.

The entrance of the Ojibwah caused him no
surprise. On the contrary, from the inquiring
expression, upon his face, and the words he ad-
dressed to'the Indian, that he had been expected
was certain.

“ Well,” he said, “ you are back. Have you
any news?"

“ Ughl yes,” replied the savage, seating him-
self upon the cavern floor. close to the fire.
“Waubesah has found that the pale-face goes
to night to the settlement to dance.”

“ Ha l” exclaimed the man. the flashing of his
eyes increased by the words he had just heard.
“And his daughter, too?”

If Yes.”

“ And there will be no one to guard the cabin
but his man Rollo. It will take great care on our
part, Waubesah, to avoid him, for he is a devil
when aroused. Thrice now has the hated Ar-
fort escaped .me, and each time through him.
But who knows but that this night may see my
end accomplished, and he whom I long to crus
in my power.”

And carried away by his own words, the man
strode across the cavern a in and again, clinch~
ing his hands, as if he fild the object of his
thoughts in his grip. But suddenly he paused,
and turning to the savage once more, he said:

“ Waubesah. remember that, hate, hate, hate
him as l do, I do not seek his life—at least, not
yet. For, as he robbed‘me of my love, my hope,
so will I now retaliate, and rob him of his.
As he robbed inc of my good name, and caused
me to he branded with the name of “ Thief,” so
will I rob him of that which is clearer than a
good name itself.”

The latter part of these words was addressed
to himself rather than to the savage, who, used
to these outbursts, sat calmly gazing into the

fire. ,

“ Waubesah,” said the white at length, begin-
ning to grow cooler, “where does this man,
Rollo, generally keep himself, when his master
is absent?”

“ Waubesah knows not,” was the reply.
“Inside the cabin, probably. If so, we must

 

contrive to get him outside, by some means or
other."

The Indian grunted assent, and after some
further conversation the two prepared to qmt
the cavern, the man first fastening around his
waist a belt, in which be next stuck a brace of
heavy pistols, each being carefully charged.

Emerging from the cavern into the open air,
the two found themselves in almost total dark-
ness. The moon had risen, but its light v :is in-
sufficient to penetrate into that glen, vi hich
defied even the sunlight itself.

Half an hour later found the two near “here
Rollo and young Amboy had met, a few days
previous; and then, with a parting admonition
to the savage, the white jumped the fence and
made his way to the belt of trees. The Ojibwah
watched him until he was no longer to be seen,
and then, opening wide his hideous mouth, gave
burst to a. yell that echoed and re~echoed through
the forest.

Searcer had the noise died away, when the
noise of some one makin‘g his way hurriedly
through the brushwood reached the ears of the
savage, who, crouching behind a bush, awaited
what would happen.

A few moments later a man emerged into
view. It was Rollo. The ruse of the Ojihwah
had proved successful; and as he saw it, a smile
of satisfaction shot across his ugly features.

Reachin the fence, Rollo gazed about him.

“ Wall swowl" he exclaimed, seeing noth—
ing. “ I shed like ter sot eyes on the craytur
as made that air noise. It wasn’t human, I

' reckon.”

But seeing nothing to detain him, he soon
moved off, wending his way back to the cabin,
whistling as he did so.

Soon after, footsteps again reached the ears
of the watchful OJibwah, and these belonged to
his white com anion, Kyd. .

“ Well,” sai thelotter, as the two met. “ It's
all ri ht. I’ve got what I wanted at last.”

“ hl Meet Rollo?”

“ 0‘. I heard him, though. Now for the
other, the beautiful Maud. Yes, Wanbesah, be-
fore long she will be my own. So, let’s for the
settlement at once.”

In his excitement, Kyd spoke in a tone above
that which time and circumstances warranted.

The Ojibwah was not 10th to depart from the
spot; and a moment later, both became lost in
t e forest. .

 

CHAPTER IV.
ON THE, TRAIL.

WHEN the Ojibwab, about to enter the abode
of Kyd, supposed himself to be unw'atched, he
was mistaken. He was watched, and had been
from the time his canoe had shot out from the
opposite bank of the river.

His watcher was a young Indian, Kegcnsa,
who had so narrowly escaped a severe punish
ment a few mornings before. The young In-
dian knew Waubesah well.

Never once withdrawing his eyes from the
figure in the canoe, Kegonsa waited with the
patience peculiar to his race untll the canoe
reached the river’s bank, but some distance down
the stream, beneath, as has already been nar-w
rated, a high cliff. . A

6’ . Kyd’s Bold Game.

Then, seeing this, with a baffled expression on
his face the young Indian rose to his fret. He
was on the point of quitting his place of con-
cealment, \vhv-n the splashing of water reached
his acute curs. Quickly dropping once more
to his knot-s, he parted the willows before him
with his mind, and gazed forth. Almost on the
instant his eyes fell upon the figure of Waubcsah,
whose watchful eyes were looking about him in
every direction.

The branded Ojibwah left the water, and en-
tered the copse of willows. He proud on, and
once, so close did he come to the young Indian
that the latter could have touched him with his
bow, had he desired to do so.

Kegonsa was far from being a coward, but
his heart beat loudly, as his dread foe came so
near him, and it was not until the footsteps of
the Ojibwah had nearly died away that he dared
to rise to his feet and follow his‘foe by his fresh-
ly made and easily seen trail.

The Ojibwah was next caught ’sight of by his
watcher, just us he entered the torrent. He was
seen by Kegousa to gain the top of the huge
rock, and, n moment or two later, to disappear.

To the young Indian, this was a matter which
caused him much surprise. From where he
stood the aperture down which Waubesah had
disappeared was not to be seen, and, believing
that something supernatural had to do with it,
he shuddered. Indeed, he felt very uneasy.

He waited—waited until darkness had come,
and in the gloom he beheld Kyd and the Ojib-
;~vah emerge from the cavern, and come toward
um.

He followed them to the river, and, a few
minutes later, beheld both in the Ojibwah’s
canoe, and crossing over to the other side of the
stream. _

“ Ugh i" he soliloquized. “Where they go?
Kegonsa must follmv. Kyd no like Arfort, me
know. Perhaps go there. Kegonsa will see.”

And, slinging his bow to his back, the young
Indian strode t0ward the river, and toe. spot
where he had concealed his own canoe. ,

By this, the Ojibwah and his com anion had
disappeared in the gloom of the pig 1:, and Ke-
gous‘i, having no need to fear detection by
them, at once embarked, and paddled to the op—
posite bank of the river.

Then, first secreting his canoe in the bushes
lining the bank, he plunged into the forest,
making his way toward Arfort’s cabin. He had
not proceeded many rods, when he fancied he
heard sounds. It was the sound of human voices
which had arrested his attention, and he at once
knew then to belong to those he was follow-
mg.
A couple of miles passed over, and the two
reached Arfort’s fence, and Kegonsa knew by
the sound of their voices that they were but a
few yards before him, and had come to a halt.

By this time the moon was above the horizon,
and by its light Kegonsa detected the Ojibwah
and his companion, stand ng close to the fence.

Scan:er had his eye taken in the scene, when
the white parted from his com anion, leaped
the fence, and disappeared in t e grove, the
Ojibwah secreting himself in the bushes.

What next transpired has already been nar—
rated. The young Indian witnessed all. and

 

moreover. heard the last words Kyd had spoken
to the Ojibwah, before they left the spot.

He know now that something wrong was in-
tended, :ind that, too, to the one who had in-
terfered so generously in his behalf a few morn-
in gs before—Maud Arfort. He had divined
what the plan; of the villains was, and be felt
that he was able to frustrate it. Far from look-
ing upon Arfort as an enemy, Kegousa had
promised, nay sworn, never to lift his hand
against him. To whom had the promise been
given? To the spam Kee—gee-wewah, whose
words had, as the reader is aware, saved him
from a terrible infliction.

Released from the tree to which he had been
bound, the young Indian no sooner found him-
self alone in the forest with the old squaw, than
his pent up anger broke forth, and he vowed
vengeance against Arfort, and all others of the
white race who should ever fall into his hands.
But the squaw pacified him. She told him that
he had white blood in his veins. Nay, more,
that Jasper Arfort was his own father!

The words of Kee-gee wewah were true.
Soon after coming West, Arfort had met with
a beautiful Ojibwah girl, and he married her.
But his passion soon cooled, for he had met one
of his own race whom, he felt, he could love
better—the mother of Maud. A year after his
marriage with the beautiful Ojibwah. she died,
leaving him an only son, Kegonsa. Then Ar-
fort was married to his second wife, and his son
consigned to the care of the squaw, Kee- lee-
wewah.

Time went on, and by Arfort his boy was for-
gotten until a few mornings ago, 'when the
squaw Whispered in Arfort’s ear:

“ Remember Agramonn! He whom you
would punish is your own son 1"

Thus was it that Kegonsa escaped his punish-
ment—and thus was it that Arfort's cruelty to
him was forgotten.

The Ojibwah and his companion had hardly
disappeared when Kegousa descended the tree,

and moved off in adirection exactly opposite

that taken by them. .

He: ran forward as rapidly as the nature of
things would allmv, and in less than half an
hour, found himself on the bank of the river,
and in close .proximity to a smallsized log-
cabin.

Without any ceremony, the Indian opened
the door, and stepped within. The cabin, scan-
tily furnished, was lighted up with a candle,
which was placed upon a table, near which was
seated the owner of the domicil. He was a
medium-sized man, strongly built, and Whose
every appearance denoted one who passed his
life in the forest.

“ Hullo, Ke onsa,” he exclaimed, as the young
Indian entere , “ what’s up now?”

In answer to the traipper’s words, Kegonsa
narrated what had transpired since sunset, at
the conclusion of which the man whistled. _ v

“ So the varmint is on the rampage ag’in, is
he? Waghl I thort he’d hed enough afore this.
But he’ll get enough, the next time I lay my
hands on him, I reckon, for, bu’st my b’iler, of
I don’t fetch himr cut 0’ his moccasins in less
gun] a, mouth, Kagonsa, my name arn’t Steve

evit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

i

 


E,

 

 

 

 

 

 

came into view.

Kyd’s Bold Game. «r 7

 

“The ale-face maiden must besaved,” re-
plied the ndian. '

“ Sart‘in. Whar think ye, Kegonsa, shall we
he the most likely to come across ’em?"

“At the settlement." .

“ Very good. Howsomedever, it don’t matter
much, for Beppo, hyar, kin foller tha’r trail,
easier nor fallin’ off a lbg.”

On hearing his name mentioned, the dog, to
whom the trapper alluded, came forward. He
was a _small-‘sized Scotch terrier, extremely
vicious to those he did not happen to know or
fancy, but very intelligent and well—trained. He
stood gazing up into his master‘s face, who,
however, did not notice him until he had seized
his rifle, and was in readiness to depart with his
dusk companion.

Al three new quitted the cabin. and were soon
making for the spot where Kyd and the Ojib-
wah had halted, close to Arfort’s fence.

This was reached, and the dog put upon the
scent. The little animal was an adept at this
species of work, and by its aid the two men
were able to follow the trail both easily and
quickly.

The trail led toward the settlement, the out-
skirts of which weie nearly reached, when the
dog came to a sudden stop. Steve and Kegonsa
instantly imitated his example.

“ Hist!” whispered the trapper.
is ahead.”

Both men listened intently, but heard nothing
save the sighing of the wind in the tree-tops.

A few feet more were glided over, when, part-
ing the bushes with his hand, the trapper beheld
the forms of those of whom he was in search.

The spot was some little distance from the
clearing, on which the settlement of Montville
stood, and close to a narrow path. Both men
had their backs turned toward the trappers, and
were, of course, unconscious of his presence.
They were evidently waiting. Both were seated

“ The game

on the ground, their heads bent forward, as if *

listening. Imitating the example of their foes,
by seating themselves on the green sward, the
trapper and Kegonsa waited.

An hour and over went by, when, suddenly,
the sound of a proaching feet could be heard,
colrlniug along t e path, from the direction of the
V] nge. ‘

The trapper glanced eagerly at the two before
them. They had assumed a crouching attitude,
and resembled two animals about to spring up-
on their prey, rather than human beiu s.

The footsteps sounded nearer an nearer.
And, a few seconds later, Arfort, followed by
Maud, leaning upon the arm of Henry Amboy,

__.

CHAPTER V.
A FOIL-ED PROJECT.

THE backwoods dance given was the first that
Amhoy had ever attended, and, had there been
nothing else there he would hnve enjoyed it im-
mensely. But something else there was—Maud.
Whenever her bright eyes met his, and that was
often, he felt his heart beat as it had never done
before. Indeed, he fell: h0w dear a friendship
he had for her, and this it was that prevented
his speaking to her much, although the oppor-
tunities were many. He was afraid of betray-

 

ing himself, and how might she receive his re-
gards?

It was in this state 0t mind that he was, until
the dance ended; and then, approaching the
young girl, he offered her his arm.

For a moment—for it was but for 1: won ent—
she had it in her mind to refuse him. for his
coldness had stung her to the quick. But her
better nature interfered, and the proffered arm
was accepted, with a cold “ Thank you.”

As for Arfort, he, like three or four others,
had not joined in the dance, but, in an adjoining
room, had passed the evening with card-playing.
He now joined his daughter and Amboy, and
the trio at once took their departure.

Presently they arrived at an open spot, and
the watchful eye of Arfort detected a sight
which brought him to a sudden stop, and sent
an icy chill through his veins. Young Amboy,
too, perceived it, and so did Maud, a half-
smothered cry escaping her lips. Before them
stood Kyd and the demon-like Ojibwah. Arfort
knew both; but the young man, on the contrary,
had never set eyes on either, before that mo-
ment.

The situation was a. thrilling one. For a mo-
ment both parties stood e ing each other,
neither uttering a llable. yd was the first to
break the spell. tepping a pace or two for-
ward, his glittering eyes fixed upon Arfort, he
said:

“ So, villain! we have met at last, face to ,
face. You know me, I believe?"

If he had expected a reply, he was mistaken.
There was none.

“ Behold me—he whom you so wronged. You
must repay me, and at once.”

Jasper Arfort was anything but a brave man.
As he listened to the man’s words, he trembled
like a leaf.~ '

“Repay you? How do you mean?" he man-
aged to faintly ask.

“ I will tell on,” was/his ansvver. -“ She ”—
pointing at aud—“ is your daughter, I be-
lieve.” -

‘1 Yes.”

“Give her up to me. I will marry her, and,
from that time, all my enmity toward you shall
cease, Jasper Arfort."

It would be impossible to depict the feelings of
young Amboy, mingled as they were with an-
ger, surprise and horror, as the words fell upon
his ear. But he kept «iniet and listened eagerly
for Arfort’s answer. t came.

“ Surely you do not mean it? If you do, [—1
——I refuse.”

“Very well, sir, Then I must use force to
accomplish my purpose.”

The crisis had come. Both Kyd and‘the Ojib-
wah sprung forward, and with weapons drawn.

Equal to the emergency, Henry Amboy whip-
ped out his revolver. But before he had time to
use it—before the parties had time to close, the
crack of a rifle rung through the forest. fol-
lowed immediately by the twan of a bow. Both
Kyd and Waubesah stopped s ort, the former
wounded slightly by an arrow, the latter'by a
bullet in his shoulder. The trapper and Kezonsa.
sprung from out the bushes. Tne former grasped
his clubbed rifle, the latter his tomahawk.

The Ojibwah, the instant his eyes fell upon his

8 V Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

new and unexpected enemies, assayed to lift his
hatchet, but his right arm, for a time was use-
less. With an ejaculation of rage, he leaped
aside, just in time to avoid a bullet from Am-
boy’s revolver, and disap cared in the bushes.
Kyd would have imitatef his example, but for
the trapper, who was too quick for him. Ap«
,proaching the villain, he raised his rifle, felling
{the man to the earth.

Leaving Arfort, his daughter and Amboy to
pursue their wa homeward, the trapper and
Kegonsa resolved upon following after the Ojib-
wah. But before quitting the spot, Kogonsa
approached the prostrate Kyd, and kneel-
ing down by his side, laced his ear to the
other’s mouth. He coul detect nothing; and
comin to the conclusion that the man was dead
from t 9 terrific blow he had received, Kegousa
was about to rise to his feet, when something on
the ground caught his eye. It was a piece of
paper; and, without being detected, be grasped

t and quickly concealed it.

The chase after Waubesah was fruitless. The
dog, Beppo, before a dozen rods had been
passed over, came to a standstill and gave
vent to alow whine. The trapper knew by this
that the trail was lost. Accordirgly, they re-
traced their steps to the body of yd, who lay
as still as when they had left it.

“ Waghl” said Steve. “ He air deader nor a
meat-ax, I reckon. Seein’ be war a Christian,
we mou’t as well bury him."

Both knelt down, and, with their hatchets and
hands, hollowed out a hole sufficiently large to
contain the body, which was soon deposited in
it, and covered over with the earth.

A moment or two later, the trap r and his
com nion left the spot, heading or the for
mer s cabin.

 

CHAPTER VI.
WAUBESAH AND HIS ALLIES.
EARLY the following morning, JaSper Arfort,
attracted b a strong feeling of curiosity, visited
the scene 0 the last night’s encounter. Arrived
here, the freshly-made grave presented itself to
his 9 es, bringing to his mind an intense feeling
of re ief. He felt certain that the grave had
been made for Kyd, but, wishing to know be—
ond the shadow of doubt, he wended his wa
omeward, when, summoning Rollo to his

gresence, he dispatched him to the cabin of
teve Bevit.

In the course of a couple of hours the man re-

, turned, bringing back with him the information
that the grave Arfort. had seen belonged, as he
had supposed, to Kyd.

If Arfort had felt easy before, he felt doubly
so now that all doubts had been removed—if
doubts he had had. And resolving to enjoya
day’s shooting in the forest, be seized his shot—
gun and sallied forth.

He returned about sundown, and the first one
who met him was Henry Amboy.

“ Mr. Arfort,” said the oung man, a troubled
expression upon his face, ‘ the pa r you showed
me yesterday, I am sorry to say, am unable to
find, although I have spent the greater part of
the day in searching for it.”

On hearing this, Arfort turned somewhat
pale, and said, in an angry tone:

h

 

“ Where did you leave it?”

“ On the table in your own room supposing
it would be left untouched. I intended setting
to work on it the first thing this morning.”

Without another word, Arfort passed to the
inside of the cabin and entered the room which
thfiyoung man had justmentioned.

e was gone some time, and when he returned
to Amboy s presence, his face was livid with
passion.

“ Young man,” he said, “ that pa enmust be
returned. I delivered it to you, an you have
secreted it.”

“ I deny it I” coolly returned the accused.

“ Then you are a thief! Leave! And do it as
quickl as you know how.”

In a l probability, Jasper Arfort would have
been stricken to the ground, had not Maud,
alarmed at her father’s angry voice, come
thither to ascertain the cause of the disturbance.
In an instant the young man subdued his wrath,
but stung at the insult he had received from her
father, he turned upon his heel and quitted their
presence. Entering the room which had been
assigned him, he seized his rifle and the few
other articles belonging to him, and, without
further ado, left the cabin.  v”

He passed through the grove, leaped the fence,
and whistlin a merry air, he started off through
the forest. y the time that the sun had sunk
below the horizon he had put some distance be-
tween himself and Arfort‘s cabin; and feeling
somewhat weary, he threw himself down on the
green sward, beneath a clump of hazels.

A few minutes more and he was asleep.

How long his slumbers would have continued,
hagghey not been disturbed, it is impossible to
stu . '

But disturbed they were, and by a wild whoop, . 
which instantly awoke him. He raised to a sit- ' ' }
tiiig position, somewhat alarmed. i'

ight had long since arrived, but its darkness ‘
in that immediate vicinit was dispelled by a
fire which had been kind] in an open piece of
ground, a’ few yards from where Amboy sat. 4'
This, too, was not without its eflect upon him,
and, peering through the bushes, be surveyed
the scene before him. -

Seated in a circle around the fire, which had 6;
been kindled of dry branches and burned bright; '
1y, were a score or more of savages. A more
ferocious looking set it would have been hard to
pick out. Each warrior was of very low stature
—with only one excaptiou —of demon-like mien,
their physiognomies having been rendered still
more devilish by a generous application of soot
and vermiiiou. i

 

 

 

Nor was this all. Another there was—one
Whom the reader alread knows—Waubesah,
the Ojibwah. The fien was seated quietly
among the others, and like them, smoking a
calumet of kini-ki-nik. His e as were gazmg
vacantly into the fire, as if their owner was un-
conscious of everything, save the subject of his
meditations. . _

Henry Amboy hardly had time totake in this,
whenarustli sound behind him caused him
to turn round. Crouching close to the ound
was the form of a human being—«m ndian.
The surprise of Henry was great, but quick as
thought his hand grasped the stock of his re-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kyd’s Bold Game. 0

 

volver, and the hammer of the weapon was
raised with equal dispatch. But as the click of
the Weapon reached the ears of the Indian, he
starte I, at the same time ejaculating:
‘;Ughi pale-face. No shoot. It be Kegon‘
1

And, before the last word hardly had time to

ass from his lips, the Indian, with a serpent
ike motion, glided forward, placing himself in
close proximity to Henry. The young Indian
was at once recognized by Amboy. Still ad-
vancing, Kegonsa parted the bushes in front of
him. an expression of hatred and passion dark-
ening his countenance, which wonderfully al-
tered his wonted calm features.

“ Ugh I” he exclaimed, loud enough only for

mAinbiiy to hear him. “ The enemies of the Ojib-
wahs, the cursed Siouxl
here?"

“ Sioux!" said Amboy, who had hitherto sup-
posed them to be Ojibwahs. “ Do they come to
these pa rts often 3'"

“ Ugh! they do come often. Many battles
have they fought with the Ojibwah warriors,
who ,hate them as they do the crawling ser-

int.

The last words spoken by Kegonsa had not es-
caped his lips, when a sudden movement was
seen on the part of the Sioux. Their calumets
had been smoked empty, and were now laid
aside. Muttered words went the-round of the
ciil'jcle, and then ceased by the rismg of Waube—
sa .

His words were not without their effect. The
faces of his Sioux listeners scowled more hor-
ribly than before, and their hands twitched as
if actuated by a common impulse to grasp their
tomahawks and spring to their feet. The Ojib—
wah spoke in the Sioux tongue, which was as
well known to him as his own: and to Amboy,
of course, his words were perfectly unintelligi-
ble. But it was not so with Kegonsa. He knew
the meaning of the words as well as he who gave
them utterance.

Presently, the harangue of the Ojibwah was
finished, and his place was taken by one of the
Sioux. The latter was less violent in his words
than the other, but the effect was no less great
on his hearers. -

For ugwards of an hour did this scene last,
one spea er following another in quick succes-
sion, then the savages. almost simultaneously,
leaped to their feet. By their movements, it
was plainly evident that they were about to
quit the spot.

Chattering like magpies, they entered a thick-
et of young hickories, from which they soon re-
turned, each Sioux leading by the bridle a horse.
A moment later, they were mounted,_and led by
the Ojibwab, soon became lost, botn to sight
and hearing.

 

CHAPTER VII.

A VILLAIN’S REWARD.

Wrrn alook well understood .by the young
Indian, Amhoy turned toward him.

“Ugh! The youn pale-face understands not
the meanin of t e serpent. Listen, and
Kegonsa wil tell him.”

Amboy did listen, and the words he heard

What want they ,

 

made him almost speechless. Instigated by the
dread Waubesah, the Sioux were about to at
tack Montville that very night. Like a thunder-
bolt were the settlers to be fallen upon, and the
savages expected not one would escape. This
accomplished, they were to proceed to the cabin
of Arfort, and conclude their hellish work by
murderin him, and bearing off his dang ter.
For the atter job, Waubesah informed his
ifsllieKs, tdhey would be well paid; and by whom?
y .

Kegonsa had learned that that villain was
yet alive. He had heard Waubesah vaunt how
he had waited until the coast was clear, hiding
in the adjacent bushes, and then rushing forth,
unearthed the villain, who, after all, had only
been stunned by the trapper’s blow.

“ Good Godch onsa, what is to be done?"
asked Amboy, at t e conclusion of the fearful
recital.

“ Ugh! Know the way to the settlement!”

“ Yes—or at least I could find it, by a little
directing.”

“ Follow the river for three miles, and it will
take on there.”

“ ell. What then?”

“ Tell the pale—faces that the serpent Sioux
will be upon them, and they will prepare to
meet them. Then oto Arfort’s and tell him
the same. He can ide in the forest until morn-
ing, and then the Sioux will be far away.”

“And you—”

“Kegonsa will fly with the speed of a
deertothe lodges of the Ojibwahs, who will
meet the Sioux“ face to face. Ugh! not one shall

eswe." , .
ithout waiting a moment longer, the two
parted, Amboy taking a course which would at
once‘ bring him to the river.

This reached, he turned his tare down the
stream, and followed it along the bank at a
re id pace.

aving. no fear of fallin in with the
Sioux, as they had taken a di erent course, he
was able to make rapid progress, his speedcheck—
(Id at times, only, by thick copses of bushes.
But these were small difficulties, and be present?
ly had the intense satisfaction of arriving at the
outer edge of the clearing upon which the settle
ment stood.

The moon being obscured with black clouds,
the night was very dark ; but, possessingapretty
accurate knowledge of the spot, he was able to
find [115 way to the block-house without any
serious difficulty. '

Am boy entered the unguarded stockade, and
then gained the inside of the fort itself. Raising
his voice he called aloud to whosoever might
chance to be there. A moment after he was"
answered.

In as concise a manner as ssible Amboy re-
lated what had transpired hat night, oonclud~
ing by exhorting the tl'appers to warn the set-
tlers of their peril. But, to the'young man’s ‘
surprise, his words were received with the ut-
most sang froid.

The fact was, Henry was a stranger to them,
and one and all were under the impression that
he was only attempting to create a needless
alarm. Therefcre, it is needless to state how

.long the delay would have continued, had not _

r :.

10 Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

 

the arrival of another upon the scene happened,
and this in the person of Steve Bevit.

Bursting in among them, with the utmost
haste, he exolaimed:

“ Bu’st my h’iler, boyees. if ye’ve got much
time. A cussed band 0’ Sioux air comin‘ on,
quicker’n a beaver kin wag his tail in flood
time i”

Inwardly thanking the trapper, and leaving
the Warning of the settlers to them, Amboy hur-
ried off toward the cabin of Arfort.

Here we will leave him, and relate what was
transpiring at the cabin, at that hour.

Almost at the same instant that Amboy ar-
rived at the settlement, a figure stole noiselessly
into Arfort’s cabin, making his way toward one
of the apartments from the window of which
streamed a ligfiit.

Reaching t
figure entered; but so noiselessly did it move
that it was not until Arfort was touched on the
shoulder that he turned. To his horror. he be-
held the form of the supposed dead—Kyd.

With a half~stifled cry of terror, Arfortsprung
up, his eyes fastened upon his visitor as if there
exrsted about him some strange fascination.

For a few moments—it seemed an hour to Ar-
fort—the spell was continued; then Kyd, advanc-
ing a step forward, said:

“ Jasper Arfort, you, and you have cause for
it, fear me. But, listen. I have not come here
to harm you. So seat yourself, and we will talk
llke friends.”

On hearing this. the fears of Arfort were some-
what alloyed. He seated himself; and Kyd,
taking a chair from the further corner of the
room, imitated his example.

“ Arfui‘t,” he said. “ you remember my words
to you last night. Well, have you changed your
mind!” '

Arfort returned no answer to the question.

“ Do you desire this enmity between you and
me to ceaSe, or to continue?” was next asked.

“ Kyd.” said the other, in almost a tone of
supplicntion, “ I wronged you, I confess. I ask
your forgiveness.”

“ You shall have it, Arfort, but only on the
condition I mentioned last night. I am your
daughter’s equal, in both birth and education.
Is that not true?”

“ It is.”

“Then why do you object to my marrying
her?"

“ Because I am afraid that—” He hesitated.

“ Go on.”

“ I am afraid that she could not love you.”

“ On your honor, Jasper Arfort, is that your
only reason?"

“ On my honor. it is.”

“ Enough! I will yet win her! She has no
other lover?”

“ None," answered , Arfort.

“ Who is that young man who was with you
last night?"

“One whom I hired to do a piece of business
for me. I dismissed him, however, this after-
noon."

' ’ On learnin this. the face of Kgd grew bright-
or; for he h inferred that Am oy might be a
favorite with Arfort, and a suitor for his dough
ter’s hand. The conversation lasted some time,

9 door, it was opened, and the ,

 

and would have continued some time longer, but
for the unexpected arrival of Amboy.

Forgetting what had occurred between him-
self and Arfort, and thinking only of the peril
in which Maud and her father were placed, he
entered the cabin, and at once proceeded toward
the apartment in which he expected to find Ar-

ort

He knocked on the door. It was opened, and
by the owner himself.

On beholding the young man, Arfort started
back with astonishment. But before he had
time to recover himself, or to open his lips to ask
the reason of the intrusion, young Amboy boldly
entered the room.

It was now his turn to be astonished, which
he unmistakably was, the instant his eyes fell
upon the figure of‘Kyd, whom be instantly re-
cognized as the chief actor in the encounter of
the evening before.

With a horse-like snort, the villain sprung in
a rage to his feet,

This movement on the part of Kyd caused Ar-
fort to recover the use of his tongue.

“ Young man,” he demanded, “ what brings
you here?”

‘2 Siemethiug which deeply concerns you.”

‘ al'

“ I come to inform you, Mr. Arfort, that a
band of Sioux will visit you before morning,
led on by that red fiend who, in company with
that gentleman there, attacked us last night.”

Arfort sneered; but Kyd, walking forward,
said, in a voice intended to alarm him to whom
the words were addressed:

“ You dared to alludeto me, I believe?"

“ You heard my words, did you not?" was his
answer.

“ Bah! you young fool! I have only one way
to treat young dogs like you.”

With an air of bravado. he approached quite
close to Amboy, and the young man knocked
him down with a blow between the eyes, at the
same time sending him spinning to the further
end of the room.

With a howl of rage and pain, more like that
of an animal than a human being, Kyd picked
himself up, as soon as the swimming sensation
in his head was over. ‘

He withdrew his eyes from Amhoy, and
looked at Arfort, and with a meaning the latter
understood. Springng suddenly forward, he
caught Amboy around the waist, holding the
young man’s arms down close to his side.

Kyrl saw the movement, and in an instant he
ran to Arfort’s assistance. The young man
struggled, but it was a vain one. He was $6-
cured beyond hope of escape, a tightly-drawn
cord fastening his arms to his sides in such a
manner that self-extrication was a matter of 1m—
possibility.

“ Well,” said Kyd. “ you see we have succeed-
ed in edging you. The blow you gave me was a
hard one, and you shall have your just dues for
it. If your words are true, and the Sioux do
come, I shall hand you over to them. Ha! ha!
my young pugilist, they will give you a lesson
or two.”

Seizing Amboy by the collar, Arfort led
him from the apartment, then along a hall,
until he reached a door at the further end.

 

 

4.4'

55
,
,i
i

seldom    

f

l

f
'7‘?

 

 

 

Kyd’s Bold Game. 11

 

This he opened, and violently pushing his pris—
oner into a small room, closed the door, and at
once returned to the presence of the highly-
elated Kyd.

“Kyd,” id the other, “do you su ose he
spoke the ti th regarding the Sioux?” e spoke
anxiously. *

“Yes, Arfort,” answered Kyd; “to tell the
truth, I do believe him. But you look alarmed,
n.an. Pray, make your mind easy, for I can
make it all right with them, you can depend on
it.

Eased of his fears, Arfort seated himself,
and the two were again engaged upon the
tMopicd the arrival of Amboy had interrupted—

au .

 

CHAPTER VIII.
A sroann FEAST.

HENRY AMBOY had not much time to reflect
upon the fact that he was a prisoner, when he
heard the door of the room being softly opened.
He waited, and soon a voice which he loved
above all others, said in a whisper:

“Henry—pardon me—Mr. Amboy. Are you
here?"

“ I am, Miss Arfort.”

She entered the room softly, and as carefully
closed the door.

“ l have heard all—all,” she said. “ I can free
you from your situation, but from mine there is
no escape. ’

Wondering what she meant, Henry was about
to put a question to her, u hen he felt her bend—
ing over him; and the next moment he felt his
arms were free. She had severed the cords that
bound them.

“ Come." she said. “It is unsafe for youto
linger here. I will guide you to the door, for I
know the way better than you.”

Taking the young man by the arm, she led
him from the room, and then forward until he
found himself outside the cabin.

“ Miss Arfort," he said, “ you are in trouble.
May I ask you what it is?”

” He whom you saw to-nlght with my father
was his greatest enemy,” she answered. “ Now,
they are friends, for my father has promised
him that I shall be his wife.”

0n hearing this, the heart of Amboy seemed
to cease its pulsations, and felt heavy as lead.
His face turned pale—so very pale that even
Maud could perceive it, in the undimmed light
of the moon.

But choking down a lump which seemed to
rise in his throat, and summoning up all his
courage, he asked:

“ And can not you love him, Miss Arfort?"

“ No, no. I love another. He is one whom—"

The young man lingered there no longer—not
even to hear the finishing of her sentence, not
even to thank her for his escape; but, hurrying
away with quick steps, soon became lost to her
sight among the trees.

She softly entered the cabin, and returned to
her own room, but not to sleep.

The moment that Henry Amboy perceived
that the trees and bushes hid him from the sight
of any one standing near the cabin, he came to
a sudden stop.

After considering for some moments, he de-

 

termined to climb one of the trees near him,
from whose branches he hoped to be able to ob—
tain a full view of the cabin, and the grounds
about it.

But scarcely had be secured his sition when
a rustling of the bushes informed im that some
one was approaching. _

He waited. Soon, dark forms, flitting from
bush to bush with stealthy foot, met his view.
The light of the moon failed to penetrate
through the trees sufficiently for the young man
to make the forms out, easily, but, after a little
time, he succeeded. They were Indians.

Moving in the manner described to a few feet
nearer the cabin than was the trees among
whose branc es was Amboy, the Indians came
to a standstil .

The position of the young man had become
more than irksome, for the branch of a tree was
a seat lie was but little used to. He heartily
wished that his enemies—as be deemed them—
would do something else than sit where they
were and give him a chance to descend once
more to the ground.

Presently, however, his attention became de-

tracted from himself to a sound which was
caused by the rapid hoof-strokes of a horse.
I The noise increased each second, until, at a
full gallop, a number of mounted steeds, emer-
ged into view; and, in less time than it takes
to relate it, they formed‘iii a circle around the
cabin. In the moonlight, Henry could see their
forms plainly. They were the Sioux.

The attention of all was again. directed to« -
ward the cabin.

Waubesah, the Ojibwah, had approached the
door, and was about to enter the cabin, when
suddenly the figure of Kyd presented itself.

The latter addressed a few words to his con—
federate, who then turned and repeated them to
the Sioux. It was enough. The horssmen
wheeled their steeds around, and began to rid
the clearing of their presence.

The time for their enemies, the Ojibwahs, had
come.

With their war-cry peeling from their lips,
they dashed from out the bushes, discharging a
volle of arrows as they ran. Half a dozen of
the ioux were pierced through the body, and
tumbled from their horses.

For a moment only the remainder looked to—
ward their enemies, for that was long enough
for them to perceive that a combat against so
great a force would only be fatal to themselves;
and, with a. warning cry, they again put their
steeds in motion, and soon plunged into the
forest. Luckily for them the wood at that
point'was not very dense, and they were able to
make their wa'.y forward, until they reached the

rairie, at as fast a pace as their foes could fol-
ow them. They reached the prairie, and five
minutes after were riding over it ata gallop,
with their pursue-rs for in the rear.

As for the fiend Waubesah, on seeing the turn
aflnirs had taken, he had plunged instantly into
the cover of the forest, thus making his escape,
a thing which Kegonsa exceedingly regretted.

Had Amboy felt so disposed, a word to Ke-
gonsa would have been suficient to have had
the excited red-skins return to the cabin, and
drag Kyd forth. 'But be restrained himself, re-

 

12 Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

solving to meet the villain alone, at another
time, and heartily chastise him himself.

Ten minutes later the clearing had again re-
sumed its wonted appearance of quietness, the
Indians having departed, while Ainboy and Ke-
gonsa took their course to the settlement, in
order to ascertain how things had turned out
there.

On arriving at their destination they learned
that, owing to the warning the settlers had re-
ceived, the Sioux had met with a much warmer
reception than that at the cabin of Arfort. In-
deed, nearly a dozen lay upon the clearing, the
trappers waiting until morning should come,
when the dead bodies would be pitched into the
river. I

CHAPTER IX.
FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

THE following morning Jasper Arfort, an hour
or two after breakfast, met his daughter in the
garden, whither she had gone to take her wonted
exercise.

“ M and,” said her father, “ I have something
to ask you. How did you like that gentleman
Whom you met at breakfast this morning?”

“ His manners Were all one could desire,
father, certainly." ,

h “ Indo not mean that, Maud: how do you like
im?

“ Candidly, father, not at all.”

. “ Why not?“ He is rich and accomplished,
being an old acquaintance of mine."

“ Inlleedl”

“ Yes; ani will you believe it, Maudl—he has
fallen in love with you, although he never saw
you before this in urning.”

0n hearing: this, she looked her father stead-
ily in the eye. and asked:

“ Father, is he not the one who met us in the
wood, the other night, and who would have
killed you but for i111 a arrival of assistance?”

It cost Jasper Arfor‘, hardened as he was, a
struuxle to force a laugh, which he did.

“ Why, Maud, What could have put that silly
idea. into your head? You yourself saw Bevit
strike the blow that killed the villain. If you
doubt it, go to the spot and you can see his
grave. Besides, his name was Kyd—this gentle-
man’s is Monti-ass.”

Shocked by her father’s words, which she
knew to he the basest of falsehoods, she made no
reply; but Arfort continued:

“Yes, Maud, Mr. Monti-ose loves you. Lis«
ten: I now own this cabin, your home, no lon-
gar. A year or two before I first saw the beau—
tiful Agramona, my first wife, a rich French-
man fled, for some reason, to these parts, and
wh) was reputed to have brought his money
With him. One (11y his cabin was entered by
the Indians, and after partaking of his hospital-
ity, they cruelly attacked him. By some chance
or other Agrainona heard of his situation, and,
Indian as she was, her heart was touched. She
visited him every day, carrying him food and
drink, for a week. Then he died. But before
doing so, he handed her a paper. telling her to
keep it, for it would tell her where was hidden
a quantity of money. She did so; and after I

married her, she gave the paper to me. It was
written in cipher, and I have never been able to
make them out.

“ But, on the strength of one day being able
to do so, by meeting with one who might be an
adept at the work, I borrowed money, bought
these grounds with it, and also built our cabin.
I have now no hopes of being able to meet my
payments, for the paper is lost. Amboy was
smart enough to decipher it, and he stole it,
knowing its value.”

“ I do not believe he stole it, father?” ,

” Bah! you simpleton! Who else could have

done so? But it is not upon that subject 1 WlSh'

to speak. As I have said, Mr. Montrose has
done you the kindness to fall in love with you.
You must return/it, Maud.”
:: {kcaan not.” 1"
n why, pray.

“I love another.”

For a few minutes after hearing this avowal
Arfort was silent.

“ And who,” he asked at last, “is that ‘an-
other?"

“I will tell you, father, on one condition—
that you will not, either directly or indirectly,
seek to harm him.”

“ Well—you have my promise.”

“ On your sacred word?”

“ Yes—~yes. His name?”

“ Henry Amboy.”

Had Jasper Arfort been less skilled in a know-
ledge of the female heart, he would have flown
into a passion. But he was too cunning for
that, for he knew it would only be the wind
that blows the coal into a flame. He would try
other means. Accordingly, he answered:

“ Indeed! Then you are doomed 'to disap-
pointment. Amboy, too, is in love, but not
with you. He told me many facts relating to
himself, and, among the rest, that he loved a
young girl in the East. No, Maud; hecares ,not
for you, my girl.” ’

And with a quick pace, her father left the
young girl to herself. Did she believe what she
had heard? No. She knew her father was 0p-
posed to Amboy, and that he would not hesi-
tate a moment, in order to gain his end, to
invent a lie. And on the contrar , Amboy had
never given her reason in the east to think
be regarded her in any other light than that of
a friend.

In the mean while, Arfort entered the cabin,
where he met K d—alias Montrose—who anx-
iously awaited t 9 issue of the interview between
father and daughter.

“Well, Kyd, ’ said Arfort, “ her heart is fixed
upon another.”

“ Hui Upon whom?”

“Why, Amhoy. But never mind; we can
eat) big] out of the country, by some means or
0 er.

“Yes,” added Kyd, “and so that he will
never return.” ,

 

CHAPTER X.

run sxoox SPY. 
EARLY one morning, a few weeks after the
occurrences narrated in the last cha tor, before
the sun had yet appeared above the crown, the

 

 

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.  ‘Essmwnbww ~

in

 

 

 

 

Kyd’s Bold Game.

trapper, Bevit, standing on the summit of a hill,
descried a solltary horseman alloping over the
prairie, heading directly for tfie bill itself.

“ Waghl” ejaculated the trapper, as his eyes
caught sight of this, “ thet air an Injin. A Sioux,
by. jingol ’ he added, a moment later.

Quickly ducking down his head, he watched
the approach of the horseman with a strong
feeling of curiosity. When first seen, the Indian
was far out on the prairie; but he came on at
the very top of his horse’s speed, and in some—
thing less than half an hour, he drew rein at the
base of the hill.

Quickly dismounting, he led his steed into a
copse of bushes, where be secured it with a
lariat. Looking downward, the savage’s every
movement could be seen by Bevit plainly.
Leaving the copse o! bushes, the Sioux seated
himself at the base of the hill, produced from a

4 bag, slung to his shoulder, a quantity of tasajo,
which he devoured with seeming keen relish.
His meal ended, he produced his red stone calu-
met, charged with the everlasting kini—ki—nik,
and lighted it.

By one or two motions on the part of the
Sioux, which an ordinary person would fail to
detect, and much less to comprehend their im-
port. the trapper knew that the savage was ex—
pecting some one.

Presently the Indian finished his pipe, and it
was restored to its place of keeping. By this
time the sun was high above the horizon, and he
knew that he was in a dangerous situation. In~
deed, he was very uneasy. Ever and anon he
would rise to his feet, walk to and fro for a few
Seconds, and then seat himself again. This had
been repented for some half-dozen times, when
the Indian suddenly jerked his head in a listen-
ing posture, in look of anxiety at the same time
crossing his features. But this, a moment later.
disappeared, caused by the sudden arrival of
him whom the Sioux had been expecting. This
was Waubesah, the 0 'ibwah.

After the greeting etween the two men was
over, the Sioux paid a visit to the spot where his
steed was secured, in order to see if all was
right. and then they quitted the spot.

’ ‘ Waghl" ejacu ated the trapper. “ Thar’s
something about to be hatched, by Geehosephatl
They’re bound for that skunk of an Ojibwah’s
den, 1’11 be bound.

" It I only had Kegonsa with me,” be con-
tinued, “I could track ’em, an’ find out what
they air about. for, bu’st me it I understand a
word of their lingo!"

Leaning on his rifle. he studied the matter
over for a few minutes longer.

“ Thar’s no telliu’ whar the young redvskin air
to be found. He mou’t hyur my signal, an' he
mou’tn’t, also. Leastways, I‘ll try it."

Shouldering his rifle the trapper strode rapid-
ly down the side or the hill, plunged into the
woods at its base, and ke ton at a rapid pace
until he reached his cab n. Entering this, he
took from its place of keeping an instrument of
his Own making, which was at once most decid-
edly original in idea, and which he used on all
occasions when he wanted to summon Kegonsa
to his resence. . .

Plac ng the instrument to his lips, he was
about to send the signal echoing through the

 

13

woods, when he for whom it was intended him- '
sell made his appearance.

“ Wagh! I war about to signal ye, Kegonsa.
Thur’s something in the wind,” greeted the
trap er.

to  I” - _

The trapper related what had transpired at
the hill. ,

“ We must track the varmints, Kegonsa,” he
said. in conclusion.

“Kegonsa is willing. He can tell what the
Sioux says.”

Without more ado, the two found themselves
making for the bill. It was not more than a
mile and a half from Bevit’s cabin, and, as they
kept on at a rather rapid pace, it was not long
before being reached.

There was no difficulty whatever in finding
the trails of the two red-skins, along which the
two trackers followed at as quick a pace as can-
tion would admit of.

The trails were nearly as straight as a bee-
line for nearly two miles, or until it reached the v
confines of a marsh. through the center of which 7
ranu wide creek, when, all at once, it oliliqued 7
sharply to the right. ‘ ‘ a

.The two trackers kept on until the trails they *
were following made another turn, and this
time entered the marsh.

“ Ugh! They have made for the creek,” said
Kegonsa, as he came to a halt, an example
which was imitated by his companion. .

0n reaching the point where Waubesah and ‘
his companion, if they had,'on entering the
marsh, kept on in a straight line, should have
reached the creek, Kegonsa paused, and scru-
tinized the bank. His experienced eye was not
long in detecting the impress of a moccasined
foot. The two they were trucking had entered
the creek. Had they then crossed over, and
climbed up the opposite hank? After a sirict
examination, the oung trailer came to the con—
clusion that they ad not. The soft sand would
have left the impress of their feet, but no such
signs were visible. ' ,

No, they had kept on by, wading along the‘
stream; but whether it was up, or down it, was
the next nestion.

A num er of rods further up the creek, it
turned to the left, and, as it would be the most
likely for the Ojibwah to direct his conrse‘in
that direction, the trackers thought, they re—
solved to Search for further traces in the same
quarter.
stream, one or two things which did not escape
their Vigilant eye, informed them that they were
not mistaken in their hypothesis as to the direc-
tion Waubesah and the Sioux had taken.

Peering round the angle of the creek in a can-
tious manner, the eyes of the two informed
them that those they were following had pre~ ’
ceded them only‘a few seconds before. A few
feet in front of the trailch was a. huge, flat I
rock, near the bank of the creek, and upon the
surface of which was to he seen the impression
of a wet moccasin. It had been made by one of
the Indians as he stepped from the water. Had '
it been made long, the hot son would have oblit—
erated all traces of it. ' ‘

Leaving the creek, Kegonsa and the trapper

climbed cautiously up the bank and peered over.

As they neared the angle of the _‘ W

 

,i

 knows that.

' Sioux.

a

14 Kyd's- Bold Game.

 

Below them was a small gully, some ten feet in

depth, and which opened directly into the creek.
Standing at the bottom of this, half concealed
by the bushes, was a rude Wigwam of skins, and
which the trackers knew to he VVaubesah’s lair.

Scarcer had their eyes fallen upon the struc~
tore, when voices from within it caused Kegon-
3a to listen attentively. He could plainly hear
ever word spoken.

“ ghl Tthjibwahs are likesquaws. Their
eyes are shut.” ‘

This was said by Waubesah, and he used the
Sioux tongue.

“ Ugh l” answered his companion. “ Le Chien
The Sioux are strong. The num-
her many warriors, and their chief, ellow
Thunder, is feared by his foes."

“ Weubesah knows that. Ugh! The Ojib-
wa‘is have reason to fear him. But the pale-
facos are strong, and to scalp them all will take
many warriors.”

“ Yellow Thunder knows that," replied the
“ The doors of the fort must be opened.

Cm Waubesah do that?”
o For a few seconds the Ojibwuh was silent.

“ Ughl” he granted, at last. “When do the
Sioux come?”

“Yellow Thunder will take his warriors on
the warspath on the first day of the Sturgeon
Moon, and it will take two suns to reach here,”
re lied the Sioux.

‘Waubesah can open the doors of the fort,
and he will.” -

“Is Wnubesah known to be a friend of the
pale-faces?” the Sioux asked.

“No,” granted the Ojibwah.

“Ugh! How, then can he open the doors of
the fort?” .
“ He has friends. They will do it for him."

“The Sioux will not be fooled,” replied the
spy, in a tone which showed that the last words
of Waubesah had not struck him favorably.

“Ughl Waubesah will stake his scalp upon
what he says. What can Le Chieu want more?”

“ Le Chien is now satisfied."

There the conversation for a time ceased; and

[when it was renewed, it was only of a. charac-

ter foreign to anything which has to do with

I this story.

_ Vpo ‘ition, an

 

‘F‘eelinff satisfied that nothing more was to be
learned, diagnose. and the trapper quitted their
made their way ack to the trap-

per a cabin.

Had they desired it, both Waubesah and the
Simx could have been done for at once; but
the trapper knew that that would not prevent
the incursion of the savages, and, knowing
when they mi ht he expected was a fact not to
he thought ct erwise of than as fortunate. If
the present spy was killed, another would be
sent out, and without, perhaps, being dis-
covered. .

CHAPTER XI.
r MAUD ON THE DEATH~TRAIL.
IN the meanwhile, the suit of Kyd was not
progressing at all to his liking. Every day he

 

' visited Arfort’s cabin, and each time that he did

so, the antipathy of Maud toward him increas-
ed. Nor was her dislike concealed. Contrary
.both to the commands and implorings of 1m

 

father, she took not the least pains to dis ise
her feelings toward one whom she coul not
look upon without hatred. Her thoughts were
turned constantly toward Amboy, and, as each
day passed, her desire to see him once a ain in-
creased. At length, through the m ium of
Rollo, she learned that the young man was still
in the neighborhood, and passed the greater
part of his time in short hunting-excursions,
and always alone. More than that, she learned
that he most always took one direction, which
Rollo, after some delay, also discovered.

Early on the morning succeeding the events
narrated in the last one fer, Maud appeared
before the cabin dressed Eur a ride. She had
not long to wait, when Rollo appeared, leading
by the bridle a pony, a beautiful animal, which
her father had purchased for her in St. Louis.

Quickly mounting, the frisky little steed
started ofl? at a. cantor, soon leaving the cabin
far behind.

When the young girl had entered the wood
for some distance, she Wheeled her steed to the
right, and kept on at as rapid a pace as was.
possible. There was no path to guide her, but,
having been there quite often, she knew the
locality well.

Keeping on until the cabin was some miles
distant, she arrived at a part of the wood
where grew two maples, each of huge propor-
tions. Halting here, she scrutinized the ground
closely for a few minutes. At that length of
time her eyes detected a trail, strongly defined

by some oue’s having passed over it a great.

number of times.

Her heart beat joyfuly. The trail, she thought
must have been made by Henry. ’

It was yet but early morning, and it was not
probable that the young man, if he had started
out fora day’s sport, had passed over the spot
yet; and she resolved to await him awhile.

An hour passed, and found her still alone.

“Ha!” she muttered, with a sigh. “He will
not come to-day. But where does this trail lead
to? Rollo may be mistaken. Another attrac-
tion, and not hunting, may be the object of his
coming here so much. I will see. Heighol Pepe.
Let us follow the path further.

But, to the young girl’s surprise, the trail, on
reaching the maple trees, came to an end. But.
despairing not of being able to find further
traces of it, she kept on. Making her way
through the woods for fifty or sixty rods, she at
last, to her surprise and gratification, came
across another trail.

But this was a. different one from the last. _At
that moment, she thought she heard a rustling
in thebushes, not for distant from her. She
gazed in the quarter whence the sound come,
but could perceive nothing which could possibly
have caused it. ’Her eyes, fell upon an object
perched upon the branch of a dead oak a few
feet distant. It was an owl whOSe great eyes
seemed to look ominously at er. ,

She wheeled her horse about, and was about
to make her way back, when a figure which rose
up‘ suddenly in her track prevented her. It was
the Ojibwah. '

On seeing the face of the terrible savage, Maud
A rfort at once recognized him as the one who,
will) Kyd, had attacked her father one night

 

 

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.a‘.

 

 

I

I.
u
,.

 

g
s,

 

l

Kyd’s Bold Game.

15

 

some works back, and a dreadful sense of peril
at once seized her. Her cheeks blanched, her
head s am, but, with a heroic eflort, she kept
her sent.

Stamimg perfectly erect, his demon—like eyes
resting llimu Maud, the save said:

“ W hat. wants the pale— ace maiden here?
This is n ,t the path which leads to her lodge.
This is the trail of death.”

The trail of death! She knew what he meant.

She had heard it spoken of by Rollo, and
whispered by her father. She had heard that it
led into a deep ravine, and the unfortunate one
who entertd that never left it.

lt was not the abode of Waubesah, but he
seemed to haunt it like an evil spirit. She had
heard, too, that there was a reason for this, but
what that reason was, was a. mystery to all.
The hand of the demon was lifted a ainst all
men, and it mattered not to him whet er their
skin was red. or whether it was white.

All this run through the young girl’s brain
like a flash, and her heart seemed to cease heat
ing with her tl-rror.

“ No.” contimwd the Indian. “Let the pale—
faced maiden go back to her lodge, and follow
the trail of death no longer. She would see a.
sight which she would dread far more than she
does Waubesah, who seeks not to harm her, for
she is to be the squaw of his friend.”

He referred, of course. to Kyd, whose inten-
tions regarding the young girl were, as the
reader knows, well known to him. He con-
tinued:

” The trail of death leads to a spot where the
bones of the pale—faces and Ojibwahs lie bleach-
ing with the sun of summer, and the snows of
winter. The deadly rattlesnake makes it his
home, and the wolf lies in its caves. Again, let
the maiden return. Waubesah seeks not to do
her harm." ”

During the recital of these dreadful worr‘s,
Muud had closed her eyes, but when he ceased
spea king she opened them. The Ojibwah was
gone!

Lingering there not an instant longer, the
young girl flew through the woods as fast as her
steed could carry her toward her home.

Suddenly, when two miles had been laced be-
tween her and the place Where she be encount-
ered the Ojibwah, another figure met her gene——
a figure which caused her to rein in with a jerk.
it was Henry Amboy.

She was the first to speak, but it was not until
each had been looking at the other for some
little time.

Their conversation continued but for a short
time, and then they parted, both with heavier
hearts than before.

He, supposing her heart to be given to another
and loving her himself, said but little, while she,
piqued at the young man’s seeming indifference
toward her, acted e ually unconcerned.

“ He loves me not. ’ she said, as she galloped
homeward. “ My father fold the truth. and I
must nevor See him again—never, never 1”

CHAPTER XII.

KYD'S BOLD GAME.
LATER. that very day. Waubesab, the Ojiba
wah, visited the abode of Kyd—the cave in the

 

 

 

glen, and immediately after the interview be-
tween the two worthies, the latter at once re—
paired to the cabin of Arfnrt. This time it was
not Maud who attracted him thither, but it was
on a special errand with Arfort himself.
Arriving there, the owner of the cabin was
found to he at home, and a few moments more
found both men seated in Arfort’s private

room.

“ Well, Kyd—excuse me, Montrose, I mean—-
what now? Some more of Miami’s pranks to-
ward you, eh?"

“No, Arfort,” replied Kyd, “ I do not wish
to speak about her to—night. My coming is for
a diffiereynt purpose.”

u a!

“ Now Arfort.” Kyd continued, “ I want to
be candid with you, and shall ex ect you to act
in a like manner toward me. on don’t own
this cabin—or, at least, you still owe the money
which you borrowed to build it with." ‘

“ I may as well own the truth. You are
right.”

“ I know so. Well, have you the means to
raise the money i”

“ No, and unless I can pay the mone before
the seventeenth of next October, I am one for.
I haven’t a cent toward it."

“ But you can avoid the payment.”

“ How?” eagerly queried Arfort.

“ By getting ri of old Hanks, your creditor.
Don’t look so frightened, man. I don’t mean
that you shall get rid of him directly—but in an
indirect manner.”

“ l entirely fail to comprehend you, Kyd.”

“ Do you? Then listen. I have received re-
liable information that the Sioux are about to
set out on the war-path. Now, the fort at
Montville is a strong one, and it would take the.
Sioux a longer time ,than they can s are to take
it, unless it can be entered by—wol , by strata-

em.

“ Why not say treachery, Kyd?” asked Ar-
fort, who began to see the drift of the other’s
meaning. ‘

“ Well, treachery, if you like the word better.
‘ Anything is fair in love and war,’ you know.
But, to continue: If some one will. at a ven
signal, open the stockade gate, the Sioux Will be
able to carry all before them. Old Hanks, and
the notes he holds against you, will be jerked '
out of existence in a twinkling by one blow of a
Sioux tomahawk.”

“ Well?”

“ Well. Can’t you do the job? If Old Hanks
lives, you will lose your home. If he dies. the
cabin will be your own. Your own life will be
spared, I promise you; for Yellow Thunder is a
man of his word, if his skin is red.” '

“ As to my life," replied Arfort, “ now that I
am aware of my danger, I can save it by ieav- .
ing for parts where the savages won’t dare to
penetrate.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Kyd, with a look Ar—
ford quailed before. “ No. on must not leave.
I am opposed to that. ad is a prize for
too valuable for me to be fooled out of in a
manner so simple as that.”

“You. too, have as good a chance to leave
yourself; and I shall not attempt to conceal my
direction from you.” '

'2
-|
l

 

 

 

. back that paper but, in its present state, it is of
‘ no use tome. H

 

to Kyd's Bold Game.

 

“ I, also, have my reasons for not doing so.
Here. where I am not too much known, am
safe.”

For some time Arfort was silent. He thought
the pro osition Kyd had made him over several
times; nally coming to the conclusion that, as
he was to be a ainer by it, he would be the one
to execute the iaholical plot.

“ Well,” he said, “I will do ii, Kyd, on the
condition that my life be spared, and my prop-
erty left uninjured."

" Oh!” said Kyd, rising from his seat, “ I
promise you that. But, remember, Jasper Ar-
fort, woe be to you if you revoke your promise.
Good-night.” And the villain took his departure.
muttering to himself, “It is a bold game, but
Arfort must redeem his promise."

Half an hour later found Arfort still medi-
tating deeply over the hellish crime he had
Ehronnsed to commit, when a rap was heard upon.

a door. '

“ Come in," was the answer.

Rollo entered.

“ Thor’s young Amboy out thar,” he said,
“ and he’s a-wantin’ to see you, mighty bad.”

Arfort, for a moment, hesitated, then he bade
Rollo request Amboy to walk inside the cabin.
The, order was executed: and Henry Amboy
soon stood once again in the presence of the
man who had injured him--—but who was her
father.

The greeting between the two was not very
cordial on either side, and which, on being over,
Arfort inquired the nature of the other’s busi-
ness.

“ Mr. Arfort," said Henry in reply, “ you
accused me of being a thief—of stealing this pa-
per.

So an. ing, the young man produced a piece of
paper, aided, and which the eye of Arfort at
once recognized.

“Allow me to return it,” continued his vis-
itor, tossin it toward the owner of the cabin.
“ You see, ad I been the thief, it is not likely
that I should have returned it.”

Overjoyed at his having once more possession
of the missin paper, Arfort said:

“ If I misfitdged you, I ask your forgiveness.
But how came you to be poasossed of the paper,
Mr. Amboy'!”

“ I will tell you. It was given to me by—you
know him—Kegonsa. He picked it up from the

round close to the body of that villain, Kyd,
t e night he attacked us on our return from the
settlement.”

. Arfort gave vent to a low whistle. He be-
lieved every word the young man had spoken.
Several inquiries on the part of Kyd, and sev-
eral words he had let drop in his press-.108, was
at once conclusive to Arfort that Kyd himself
was the real thief. More than that, he knew
that Waubesah had informed de of the dead
Frenchman's buried money, and the paper which
had been stolen was the guide to its whereu-

bouts.
“Yes,” said Arfort, “I am pleased to get

ave you succeeded in decipher-

 

inq‘lti”
u 0 his delight, Henry replied in the affirma—
ve.

“ I can repeat it word for word," the young
man continued. “ Shall I do so?"

“Yes, yes!”

“ ‘I. Jacques Pictoue, having been fearful] , and,
erhaps. fatally wounded by the cursed Oji wahs,
ear that my end is near. I have been blessed dur-

ing my hours of pain by the presence of a young
stiluaw Agramona, who has treated me as a brother.
'1‘ erefore, let it be known that I have buried be-
nezth my cabin a good sum of money. in gold.
Whosoever deciphers this, let him search for the
money, and I a dying man, charge him to give one-
half of it to the squaw, Agramona.

“ (Signed) v Jacques Proroun.’ "

“Hal” exclaimed Arfort, when the young
man had finished. “Do you know where the
cabin is?"

“ N o," answered Henry. “ I have not sought
to discover it. But one thing more, and my
business is finished. Do you acknowledge your
error?" ‘

" I do,” answered Arfort, “ I do. Forgive
me, and henceforth my roof will always wel-
come you as often as you see fit to place your-
self beneathit.”

And, a. moment‘later, Jasper Arfort was once
more alone. Did do know where the dead
Frenchman’s cabin was—or, rather, had been,
since it was a heap of ruins? He did. He knew
it to be in the ravine, which was only approach-
?)ble hby one path, and that was the Trail of

eat .

It was in the ravine, years ago, that the rich
Frenchman had lived; it was in this ravine that
he (lied, and it was there that walked the demon
who dealt death to all who visited it. Did Ar-
fort also know who this demon was! He knew
it well: and he whispered to himself:

“ Before I can get this gold, Waubesah must
perish."

CHAPTER XIII.
a SUCCESSFUL cour.

Evan since the ni ht on which Waubesah, the
Ojibwah, with his a lies, the Sioux, made their
successful attack on Montville, it was determin-
ed upon by the various hunters and trapper!
who made the settlement their summer rendez-
vous, that the branded demon should be at once
hunted down. This time he was to be allowed
no quarter.

Nor was be all. Other savages than he had
been outlawed by their own people, and who
were known to be secreted not far away. These,
no less than Waubesah, were constant sources of
annoyance, if not danger; and the sooner they
were put out of the way, the better it would be
for the community at large. ,

Late the very night after the scenes I!) the
Ereceding chapter occurred, a dozen or more

unters and trappers might have been seen to
leave the fort. and make their way to the river.

Among them were Bevlt and Henry Amboy,
the latter who, on account of his Jovml disposi-
tion, was a great favorite at the fort, having
been allowed the privilege of accompanying the
party at his earnest request.

Having gotten, during the day, everything in
perfect readiness, a couple of canoes were drawn
from their places of concealment, and in less
than three minutes the entire party was afloat.

pur—

 

»;
If?

s
\

 

 

 

 

Kyd’s Bold Game.

1‘}

 

1‘ our of the trappers in each canoe handled a
paddle apiece, and a few strokes sufficed to send
the light crafts far out from the bank.

As had been predicted during the day, the
night wasa wild one, and on that very account
had it been chosen. The wind blew a perfect
gale. In fact, anight more favorable for the
success of their enterprise could not have been
picked. Their course lay up the river.

When about four miles above the settlement,
one o! the trappers suddenly exclaimed:

“ Whoopl Thur’s the light! Bu’st my h‘ilerl
but I can’t tell whether it comes from the shore,
or from the island.”

Resting on their paddles, those who grasped
them, they, along with the rest, gazed at the ob-
ject mentioned. It was a camp—fire about half
‘a mile further up the stream, and whose glare
was reflected far out on the water.

“ Waghl” exclaimed Bevit, after surveying
this for a few seconds. “ A fire kindled on
shore wouldn’t be seen so far out. The red-skins
air on an island.”

Dipping their paddles once more into the
water, their course was renewed.

When something over a quarter of a mile had
been passed, the trappers perceived that Bevib’s
opinion was the correct one. .

In the center of the river was one of those
hundreds of islands, formed by the accumula-
tion of logs, trees and sand, which give both the
Mississippi and Minnesota such a picturesque

as so .
The fire was a large one, and the boisterous
Wind carried the sparks in showers over the

water.

The tail of the island reached, the trappers
debarked.

“ The fu’st thing to he did, comrades," said
Bevit, speaking in awhis r, “ air to cut the
escape o’ the red-skins o . It is certain as
shootin’ that they hev a canoe with them, an‘
perhaps two 0’ them."

“ Sart’in. An” all that we kin do is to sot

the crafts adrift.”

' “Yes; an’ that air the hardest part 0’ the
“ Eullool

hull job-it air,” answered Bevit.
locks.

Hyur comes the rain. Kiver yer
ho sea”.

The storm which had so long been threat-
ening at that moment broke out. A crash of
thunder came, followed by a driving rain,
which soon wet the party to the skin.

After some further discussion, the execution
of the plan to cut oil? the escape of the savages
from the island was intrusted to Bevit.

Leaving his rifle m the care Amboy, the trap-
per skirted along the edge of the island until he
reached one of the many copses of willows grow-
ing upon it. Looking through this, he beheld
close at hand the fire, and those who had built
it. He knew the latter at once. They were the
outlaw Ojibwahs, and seven in number. All
were seated in a circle round the fire wrapped
in their thick blankets. to protect themselves
from the rain, and puffing forth wreaths of to—
bacco-smoke from their long-stemmed pipes. ‘

Afternotiug well their position, Bevit quitted
the copse of willows, and made his way still
nearer to the head of the island. Here, to his
gratification, he found the obJect of his search

 

 

——or rather, two of them, for the canoes were
that in number. They had been pulled up
high out of the water, but their extreme light-
ness enabled the trapper to easily slide them off
into the stream.

This done, he made his way back as quietly
as he had gone, having never in all his life ac-
coilnplished a dangerous errand more success-
fu y.

The plan hasti‘y formed by the trapper was
this: half their number were to reach the head
of the island by their canoe, in order to cut off
any of the savages who might run in that direc—
tion, while the remainder were to make the
atiack from the island itself.

The former portion BtOl ce embarked. Among
these was young Amhoy. As for Bevit, he was
among those who were tr w mmenu- an attack.

The canoe was hndu : :‘r iron} the island
until some distance in l. . n «' ‘hen directed
up the stream, until th« 9 - (:- 1 ' 1,! in island wasa
hundred yaxds, or now. it :x i; them. Now
heading the canoe down the smem, it was al-
lowed to be carried along by the current, being
steered only by a Single puddle.

Suddenly, the cracks of half a dozen rifles
sounded for an instant above the storm, quickly
followed by whoops of surprise and yells of pain.
The light of the fire enabled those in the canoe
to see the island to the very edge of the water,
and they beheld the forms of three of the Ojib-
wahs making for the spot where they had left
their canoes.

They were not long in discovering their loss.
For a single moment each stood irrcsolute; then,
with a bound, one of the savages plunged head-
long into the black river, while the other two,
{wheeling round, disappeared among the wil—

ows.

“ Let’s arter the vaxmint as took to the
water,” said one of the trappers. “The boyees
ashore’ll Settle the hash o’ the other two.”

Seizing the paddles, the men sent the canoe in '
the direction taken by the Ojibwah who had
sought to escape by swimming.

At length aflash of lightning revealed the
head of the red-skin above the water, but before
the trapper who sifzhted it had time to raise his
weapon and fire, a l was dark again. '

Unlike the trappers, who had been looking
away from the island, Amboy had been looking
toward it. Suddenly, during one of the lucid
flashes, he caught sight of the object of their
search.

The Indian, probably doubting his ability to
reach the shore by swimming, had turned again
toward the island, from which, on Amboy
catching sight of him he was but a few feet dis-
tant. -

This fact was at once communicated to the
trappers, and the course of the canoe was in-
stantly altered. I _

The Ojibwah reached the land, but it was just
as the canoe also touched it. At that same in-
stant, too. a flash of lightning lit up the scene,
and the red-skin saw one of his enemies bound-
ing toward him. He attempted to draw his
tomahawk, but before he had the time to succeed .
in doing so, a strong hand had clutched him, ~
followed almost instantly by his receiving the , _
stab of a bowie/in the chest. The red-skin sunk 1

q

 

.. v".-- A.’ -.

o.

 

1.8 Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

to the earth with a low groan. A moment later
and he was dead.

The attention of the trappers was now turned
toward their companions, who were engaged in

' discovering where the two savages who yot re—

mained were secreted. At last, one of the sav-
ages was seen. He was lying flat (in the sand,
close on the edge of the island, in hopes that
this plan would prevent his being discovered.
But a bullet through his head showed him his
mistake. ,

Only one of the Indians now remained. Where
was be? Not a nook, not a bush on the island
esisaped the scrutiny of the trappers, but the
missing Ojibwah was not discovered.

“Boyees,” suddenly said Bevit, his words
falling upon the cars of his companions with
startling effect. “ what if the ind—slum has
helped himself to one of our canoes, an’ set the
other adrift?’

It needed no more to cause the trappers to
dash at once toward the spot where the had
lef their two canoes. The spot was reached—

“but the canoes were gone!

But scarcely had they made this discovery,
when a. flash of lightning shot athwart the sky,
and, by its light, the savage and one of the
missing canoes were seen. As yet, the craft was
only a few yards down the stream, and n it
beyond the reach of the bullets of those on the
island.

The next flash came, and instantlya dozen
rifles cracked. A wild yell went up, and, liter-
ally riddled with bullets, the last of the Ojibwah'
outlaws perished.

Plunging into the water, one of the trappers
was not long in overtaking the drifting craft;
mil, shortly after, the other canoe was recover-
ed. Had the trappers been two minutes later
only, in discovering the manner in which the
savage had served them, the probabilities were
that the red-skin would have escaped.

“ Weal," said Bevit, as, soon after, they
quitted the island, “ thnr’s only one more 0" the
varmints as I mean to rub out, an’ that air
VVaubesah.”

.1...

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CAPTIVE HUNTER.

FROM the hour that J as er Arfort had receiv-
ed a solution of what had can to him. for years
a puzzle, he had been haunted, day and night,
by one thought only. That was—how he was
to get Waubosah, the Ojibwah, out of the

vow.”
hile that demon lived, Arfort knew that he
would never dare to approach the spot where

l the money of the dead Frenchman lay buried.

The eye of the Ojihwah seemed to never cease
its vigilance, for he knew that in the ravine was
the gold hidden, although ignorant of the exact

’ locality.

No, the Ojibwah must (lie, was Orfort‘sre-
mlve. But who was to commit the deed? Arfort
knew not. ‘

Jasper Arfort was not a cautious man, and,
by one or two words dropped by him in the
presence of Kyd, the latter surmised that the

ormer had recovered the Eaper which had been
stolen from him. More t on that, Kyd knew,

 

almost to a certainty. that it was Amboy who
had returned it to Arfort.

This was, as a matter of course, communi-
cated to the Ojibwah, resulting in the forma-
tion of a plan by the two worthies which would,
if successful, put them also in possession of the
secret.

The morning of the first day in September
opened bright, and, at about sunrise, young
Amboy sallied forth from the fort, rifle in
hand. He bent his course toward the river,
which reached, he drew from a clump of bush-
es a. light birchen canoe. Embarking in this,
he shoved off from the shore, heading the craft
up the stream.

When about two miles from the settlement.
he arrived at a spot where he intended his ex.
cursion should end. It was a small island, some
ten feet in diameter, covered with willows, and
some fifty feet distant from the shore.

Grazing toward the nearest bank of the river,
Amboy saw before him a marshy piece of land,
scores of acres in extent, without a tree or even
as much as a single willow growing upon it.

The objects that had taken him thither were
the deer which evey morning came to the river
to uench their thirst.

l‘le had scarcely seated himself behind a large
willow, when, glancing over the marsh, his eyes
caught sight of a few of the expected animals at
its furthest extremity.

The animals reached the river, wholly uncon-
scious of the danger that lay in wait for them.

The young man waited until the buck hnd
waded a few feet into the river, and had bent
down his head to drink, before he took aim.
The click of the rifle caused the animal to jerk
up his head. and just as he did so, Amhoy’s rifle
cracked. The bullet struck the ain'me in his
forcehoulder. but was not sufficient to bring
him down. He turned instantly, and, with the
remainder of the herd, soon became lost to the
SI ht of the chagrined Ambfiy. »

ortified at his failure, enry was about to

commence his return to the settlement, when an .

object floating down-stream, between the island
and the bank, met his eye. That object was-—
es he at once perceived—43 freshly—cut chip of
wood.

Before the chip had paSSed out of sight, it was
followed by another and another, until at least
a. dozen of the small pieces of wood had floated
past him. a

“ What can it mean?” he asked himself; but,
without being able to give any solution of the
question, he resolved to try and discover their
starting-point.

First reloading his rifle. he next stepped into
his canoe and paddled up the stream, keeping in
close to the bank.

About two hundred rods above the island he
had left, a. point of land ran out a short distance
into the Minnesota, and it was from around
this point that the chips seemed to come.

As he neared the extremity of the point, he
rested on his paddle, and carefully looked about
him. But nothing of a suspicious nature was
detected, and he kept on.

A moment later, he rounded the point.

Then, to the surprise and horror of Ambo ,
be 511 w leap from out the bushes linng the ban :,

 

.l
l
1*:

p
o
d

 

. I“, xii.

 

 

Kyd’s Bold Game.

19

 

the form of an Indian, terrible in aspect, and of
huge proportions. The two had met before——
the savage was Waubesah.

With only a single spring, the Ojibwah cleared
the bushes which had concealed him, and an-
other brought him in close proximity to the
youn man’s canoe. Seizing hold of this, the
rnrl-s in gave it a wrench which turned it
bottom upward in an instant, precipitating the
astonished Amboy into the water.

The surprise of the bitter now gave way to
anger. But how was he to avenge himself”! His
rifle and revolvers had been rendered, for the
present, useless, and the only other weapon he
possessed was a bowie—a weapon deadly enough
in the hands of a proficient, but of hardly any
more value to Amboy than would have been a
clas knife.

V hen thrown into the water, the young man
was on] a few feet distant from the point, and
it tank im but’a few seconds to gain a foothold
upon it. But hardly had he done so, when
Waubosah, who had gained the point at the
some time, rushed toward him. He grasped no
weapon, counting upon his strength to over-
niatch Amboy.

This movement was executed so quickly, that
Henry had not the time to draw his knife ere he
felt himself in the grasp of the Ojibwah.

But with a blow in the pit of the stomach,
he at once “knocked the Indian out of time,”
and sent him sprawling lo the grass.

The red-skin finally gained his feet again, and
just in time to ward off a blow from the young
man’s clubbed rifle.

With another spring on the part of each, the
antagonists were again in each other’s grasp.
Over and over they rolled among the bushes,
each striving to gain the advantage. That ad-
vantage was at length won by the Ojibwah, and
by grasping his antagonist by the throat. The
young man could feel the sinewy fingers fasten
to him like a vise, and he felt the horrible sensa-
tion caused by being choked. He indeed strug-
gled manfully, but there was no escape. Tighter
and tighter the grasp seemed to become as each
second passed away, until his brain reeled, and
he could struggle no longer.

CHAPTER XV.
A BUNGLER’B RUSE.

WHEN Henry awoke again to consciousness,
he was unable to move his arms. They had been
bound to his sides by tethers of buckskin; but
his limbs were still free. He looked about him,
in search of the Ojibwah—his captor. The de-
mon was but a. few pages distant, calmly smok-
ing his long-stemmed pipe. .

No sooner did the red-skin perceive that his
captive had opened his eyes, than he rose to his
feet. knocked the ashes frpm his, pipe, and mo.
tinned the young man to rise.

The motion was understood, and at once
obeyed. Amboy knew himself to be in the de
mon’s power, and be resolved not to awaken the
ire of his captor by any act of stubbornness on
his part.

Next. motioning the young .man to follow
him, Waubesah quitted the pomt, making his
waly to the forest. .

hrough this the two proceeded for a mile and

u

 

 

a half or thereabouts, and in a very circuitous
manner, as if the Indian wished to avoid certain
localities, where it might not have been safe for
him to have been seen.

The two arrived at the bank of the river, at a
spot where there overhung the Minnesota a high
bank, beneath which one could be perceived
only from the river, for the summit projected
out further by many feet than the base.

Guiding his captive beneath the overhan ing
bank, a fissure in the rock became visible. his
fissure was just wide enough to admit the body
of a man; and, with anot to be mistaken es-
ture. from his captor, Amboy entered it. The
Ojibwah followed him.

Then, taking from his girdle a buckskin
thong, be bound together the young man’s limbs.
This done, the (lemon gave vent to a grunt of
satisfaction, and squeezed himself out of the
cleft. Looking about him, his eyes fell upon a
large-sized stone, but not too heavy for him to
displace it, and put it against the opening of the
cleft. Amboy was alone.

Despairing of being able to free himself of his
bonds, he was about to raise his voice, in hopes
that some one or other might be near, when it
occurred to him that his captor, of all others,
was the most likely to hear him. This, he
knew, would raise the red—skin‘s anger, and so
the idea was given up, he resolving wisely to al-
low things to, for a time at least, take their own
course. Noon came, and so did sun t, but the
Ojibwah was yet absent. Slowly the ight gave
way to darkness, until the young man (onld see
the confines of his prison no longer.

It was then that the sound of footsteps fell up-
on his car. and presently the stone was removed
from its position at the mouth of the cleft.

Entering, Waubesah made the young man
arise. The savage then severed the thong that
bound the prisoner’s ankles, and a moment
later Amboy found himself once more in the
open air.

Keeping;r along the bank of the river for some
distance, the (we reached a copse of willows,
from which the Ojihwah drew forth a canoe.
Sliding one end of it into the water, he bade the
young man enter.

The Indian next entvred himself, and, with a.
powerful sweep of his paddle, sent the craft far
out from the bank, directing his course to the
opfizsite side of the river. .

heath the tremendous paddle-strokes of the
jSbwah. the canoe seemed to skim the water
like a bird, and ten minutes from the time of
starting the bow of the craft touched the oppo~
site bank, where the two at once debarked.

Then. after the Wauhesah had once unrese-
creted his canoe, he led his prisoner forward,
but this time not far. The river was only a few
rods distant from where they halted, and over
the bushes the prisoner could see the sheen of
the water beneath the rays of the moon, which
was just rising above the horizon. '

Leading his captive to a tree, the demon
bound him tightly to it. He then retired for a
short distance, gathering, as he proceeded,
branch after branch, until the entire load was
thrown at the prisoner’s feet.

The savage then collected a small pile of
leaves, which he now proceeded to ignite. Pro-

 

 

 

20 Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

ducing a match or two, he lit one, and tom-bud
it to the dry leaves. The flames flashed up and
soon wrapped the branches at the feet of the
ca. tive in their folds.

ut, before Amboy had a chance to feel their
pangs—before he even felt the heat of the flames
—-the crack of a rifle sounded, and a man imme—
diately afterward bounded into vielv. He
reached the fire, and a few kicks scattered the
burning brands in every direction.

Delaying- not a moment longer, the Ojibwah
turned and disappeared among the bushes. Am-
boy was saved. Turning his attention to the
young man, he whose timely aid had seemingly
delivered the prisoner from the most horrible of
deaths, severed the thongs which bound him,
with a knife.

“ Allow me, sir,” he said, to Amboy, when
this was done, “ to congratulate you on your es
cape. It was fortunate that I did not arrive a
few minutes later.”

Amboy looked at him. He was a man of me—
dium size and stature, gnrbed in the costume of
a hunter, but whose full face was almost con-
cealed by a. heavy black beard and Whiskers.

“ Allow me to extend to you m y deepest grati—
tude,” replied Amboy, when his scrutiny was
concluded. “ The old adage says, ‘ A friend in
need is a friend indeed ;‘ and I have found it to
be so."

The stranger laughed lightly.

“ Come,” he said, “ allow me to conduct you to
my retreat, for these woods'are not safe at night.
Dangers beset the traveler at almost every step.
I tell you this, because I perceive you to be a
stranger, and unarmed.”

Kyd—for he, the deliver-er of Amboy, it
was—supposed that the young men failed to
penetrate through his disguise, he was mistaken.

urthermore, Henry was sharp enough to di5~
cover that the whole of the performance he had
just passed through was a farce, gotten up be-
tween' Kyd and Ojibwah for the accomplishment
of some purpose.

A walk of a mile brought the two to the glen,
and Ambov saw before him the stream which
has already been described. He was struck by
its awful wildness, and perceived that the stories
he had heard of it had not been overdrawn.

First receiving a few directions from his com-
panion, Henry ste ped into the stream. But for

the caution he he received he would have been

swept of! his feet, for the current was swifter
than a mill—race. However, he managed to
maintain his porpendiculurity, and, shortly, the
two reached the rock. imitatingr de by climb«
ing up this, Amboy next followed him down into
the cavern, inwardly wondering at the strange
anode his companion had chosen.

After some little time had passed, Kyd used
his best endeavors to draw the young man into

,convarsatlon. He succeeded.

“ Yes,” he said, when they had conversed for
some time, “ Arfort is a bad men. He murdered
a. Frenchman, some years ago, in hnpos of obtain—
:35, his money. But perhaps you have heard of

Amboy replied in the negative.

“The Frenchman,” continued Kyd, “ left a.
paper, written on in cipher, which Arinrt has
got possession of. Did he ever show it to you?”

 

1 ‘1‘: lie did show me such a. paper; but it got
05 .

“ Hui Did he ever find it again?”

“ I left his cnbin the very day it was missed.”

On hearing the answer, Kyd was, for a. time,
silent. Then resolvingr not to betray his purpose
by questioning: the young man any further that
night, he turned the conversation into another
channel.

 

CHAPTER XVI.

THE BESIEGED POST.

ON the following morning, the settlers of
Montville were highly eluted over one of the
most pleasant of circumstances which serve to
relieve the monotony of a western life—the ar-
rival of a wagon-train. But, toward the close
of the afternoon, their feelings fell in a corres-
ponding degree.

Intelligence was brought in that, before morn-
ing, they might expect another a‘rrival, but not,
this time, from friends.

Warned by Bevit and Kegonsa, the settlers
were aware of the intended incursion of the
Sioux; and these savages, they now learned,
were eucamped on the prairie, not ten miles
away. They numbered at least two hundred,
and only awaited the coming of night to be on
the move.

From the first moment the settlers learned
that the Sioux were bent upon their destruc—
tion, preparations had been commenced for
their defense. A few of the cabins had been
erected in close proximity to the for t. These, if
loft as they were, the ndians could fire, and
the heat would he likely to ignite the block-
honse as well. Accordingly, they were torn
down, and the logs piled up inside of the stock-
nde, which served to materially increase its
strength.

The precautions of the pioneers extended fur-
ther than this. No tyres in border warfare,
they knew it to be the invariable custom of the
Indians to endeavor to, fire the buildings, and
this by lighted arrows.

Therefore tissoon as sundown had come,
bucketful after bucketful of water was brought
from the river, and oured over the shingles
and dpulisades, until t ey were completely satu-
rate .

Soon after sundown Jasper Arfort and his
daughter arrived.

Did Arfort remember his promise to Kyd?
He did. Did he intend to keep it? No.

The pioneers and their families were to have
the fort to themselves. As for the treppers,
they preferred, as they expreSsed it, “ to fotch
the red-skins from thn‘r moccasins from the
kiver o' the woods."

Darkness came. Slowly the hours went by
until it was nearly midnight. Then, -for the
first time, (he sentry at his post became aware
that dark forms were moving over the clearing,
and advancing: toward the fort. Forward they
came, with stealthy tread, led on by a fiend
more terrible than all the rest—Wauhesah, the
Ojibweh. ’

They reached the stockade. They halted. an
exclamation of. surprisn escaping their lips.

The gate was closed, and the Ojibwah had told. ‘

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7 covery defeated.

 

 

 

   

Kyd's Bold Game. 21

 

them it would be open to them. What did it
mean?‘

Inside the stockade, too, forms were on the
alert; and with one simultaneous crack, a score
of rifles belched forth their contents, over—
whelming the savages with cnnsternation.

Maddeued, those of the Sioux who had es—
caped the deadly fire retreated. Their oom—
paniuns, who had, up to this, kept themqalves
concealed in the woods, now knew well that
their plan had Lean discovered, and by dis»
With wild whoops and yells
they rushed into the clearing.

Then followed an interval of silence.

Well did the settlers know the import of this.
Soon a crackling noise reached their ears, and
the flames flushed up from a score of cabins,
making the clearing seem as light as day. Nor
was this all. Under the glare the demons were
seen to be stalking about. and dragging forth
from the burning structures what had been left
behind by the settlers in their hurry.

The wagons of the newly arrived settlers had
been drawn up in a circle on the further end of
the clearing; and it was not long before the

' eyes of the Indians became fixed upon these. A

crowd of the dusky warriors ran toward them.
Their covers were ripped oif in a trice, and the
red robbers soon engaged in the work of pillag-
ing the wagons of their contents, which, un—
fortunately, had been forgotten to be removed.

The work of. pillage was not of long duration.
The wagons were fired, and then the attention
of the demons was once more directed toward
the fort. Dozens of the warriors were soon to
be seen lighting their arrows at one of the fires,
and volley after volley of the missiles were shot
upon the parapet of the fort. But the wet wood
refused to ignite, and—the red-skins saw that all
their exertions to drive forth the settlers in this
manner were unavailing.

They resolw‘d, but only after a considerable
time had been spent in dellberation, to carry
the fort by assault.

Their plans were formed, and about to be put
into immediate execution, when a volley from
the cover of the woods caused them to halt.
Each pierced by a. bullet, several of the Sioux
fell to the ground.

Great as was their number, this for a moment
staggered them, for an attack from the woods
was anything but expected.

But high above the noise and confusion which
followed, sounded the voice of their chief, and,
obedient to the order, a hundred of the warriors
plunged into the wood. Their intention was,
of course, to drive the tmppers from their posi—
tion. ,

Anticipating this on the (part of their enemies,
the trappers had change their base the mo-
ment after they had dischayged their pieces.

Enraged at their disappolntment, the savages
returned to the clearing. Their assault was de-
layed no longer. With their dreadful war—cry
peeling from their lips, a hundred and fifty
rushed in a body toward the stackede.

From their position, the trapper-s Watched
the proceedings with eagerness. They saw
that, as the Indians neared the stockarle, they
were met witha gelling fire, and, an instant
later, one from the parapet. The shots did

 

fearful execution, but they were insumcient to
check the infuriated demons.

Reaching the palisades, the Sioux attempted
to diinlace them, in order to make an opening
sufficiently large to admit the passage of their
bodies to the interior of the BtOCh'ude.

“ Wagh l” said one of the truppers, as he saw
this. “ Them air posts are strong, but, durn
me! ef I believe they kin stand the blows the ~
reds air givin’ them.” , ’.

“ Boyees,” said Bevit, “a few bullets among
’em might help to scatter the varmints.”

“ Too far fruin hyur, boss."

“ Sax-Din? Thur’s the river. We mou’t ap-
proach nearer to "em in that direction. Back 0‘
the bank We could defend ourselves ag’in’ ten
times our number 0' varmints like Sioux, who
can’t fight worth a plug 0’ ’baccy ofl hossback.”

The plan was adopted. Skirting around the
edge of the clearing, but keeping well without
the glare of the light, the trappers reached the
bank of the river.

Just at this juncture, weakened by the blows
of a hundred batchets the Sioux wielded, the
palisades gave way; and, with ayell of exulta-
tion, the demons rushed into the stockade.

Their next rush was then made at the fort.
But the door had been closed and well barrio
ceded; it refused to give we . But as they had
done to the palisades, the ioux attacked the
door with their hatchets. A

One of the savages especially distinguishable
from the rest by his superior hight and more
attractive garb, was the most formidable of the
lot. He possessed a strong arm, and every blow
be dealt told.

“ Waghl” said Bevit, “that red-skin air the
son of tha’r chief, Yellow Thunder. The old
skunk hissclf hesn’t j’ined in the fight. Yonder
he is, a-palaverin’ with that scar-faced skunk 0’
an Ojibwah.”

“ It’s sart’in,” said another, “ that if them air
red—skins airn’t scattered in less nor ten min—
utes, they’ll be inside 0’ the fort.”

Making no audible reply, Bevit brought his '
rifle to his shoulder. An instant later the crack
of the weapon sounded, antithe son of the chief
dropped to the ground.

One after another in quick succession, the rest
of the trappers fired, until a ghastly pile of
(insky bodies lay near the blouk—house door.

But terrible to the besiegers as this mustybave
been. they kept on. As for those within the
fort, they were, owing to the close proximity of
the savages to the building, unable to use their
arms. - _

But the constant fire kept up by the brave
trappers at last began to be effectual; and the
savages, suddenly turning, ran in a crowd to
the opposite side of the clearing. They could,
be seen clustering around their chief, loudly
talking and gesticulatiug. Ever and anon one
would whip out, his hatchet and flourish the
glittering wea on-menacingly at the fort. \

This scene asted for some time. Then, by
their actions, it became evident that some other
expedient was to be tried

For some reason or other, one or two of the
wa ons on the clearing had not been set fire to;
an it was now toward these that the demons
ran. " .

, lake...» I v

. h::,a..i)¢5‘.'a..;..,. .; a. ‘ .xe._,..my».:...,_=.,

‘ v puma“, ,

‘the united yells from a hundred throats.

22

 

Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

“ What kin the reds be after now ?” asked one
of the men. ‘

He received no answer. His companions
were no wiser on the subject than himself.

Reaching the wagons, a number of the Sioux
grasped hold of the tongues of each, and drew
them up to as many of the burning cabins. A
number of burning logs were piled onto the
vehicles, and then, with loud cries of oxulta-
tion, the demons dragged them close to the fort,
despite the storm of bullets that greeted their
approach.

" Comrades,” said Bevit, “the fort air doom-
ed. It kin stand blazing arrows, but it won’t
stand that.”

The settlers, too, knew this, and their excla-
mations of alarm could be heard plainly across
the clearing.

But, resolving to make an attempt to frustrate
this design, a few of the braver of the besieged
appeared upon the parapet of the fort, each
hearing a bucketful of water. The liquid was
hurled over the sides of the building upon the
burning wagons below; but before the brave
pli)’l0?l‘5 had time to retrace their steps, the
bodies of half of them became transfixed by a
score of arrows.

Unquenched, the flames licked the dry logs,
and these were rapidly commencing to ignite.
Tue hesiegers had ceased their devilish yells,
and stood in groups here and there to watch the
progress of their work.

But hark! The silence is suddenly brokegv by
' ith
mingled looks of surprise and fear, the Sioux
gaze at each other, and low exclamations from
them can be heard.

Again the cry is heard, and louder than be-
fore. The Sioux now know its meaning well.
It is Ihe war-cry 0] their enemies, the Ojib—
wuhs!

Their attention is occupied by those within
the fort no longer. They now think only of
their own safety; and, with hurried movement,
they can be seen stalking over the clearing.

A few moments more elapsed. Then, with a
repetition of the battle-cry, the forms of Ojib-
wahs are seen deboaching from the wood : on
awry side.

The dusky foes meet. It is, indeed, “Greek
against Greek.”

The barbed arrow, the reekio;r seaming-knife,
the glittering tomahawk are brought into play,
mingled with yells and whoops, making a scene
terrible beyond words. But the clumsy move
ments of the prairie Indians, contrasted with
their agile foes, tell against them, and the con-
test Is ended by the retreat of the Sioux to the
forest. They are pursued, and ever and anon a
screech announces that the work of death is still
kept up.

In the mean time, the settlers have torn down
the barricades from the door, and rushingr forth,
draw the burning wagons tron their dangerous
position. it is not too soon. Five minutes Ion—r
ger would have seen the fort wrapped in flames.

CHAPTER XVII.
A BESIEGED YANKEE.
Born Kit and Amboy beheld the light of the
burning settlement, and the former soon set

 

forth to learn the result of the Sioux attack,
leaving Amboy behind. Amboy by cleverly
feigning great fright over the presence of the
Sioux completely deceived the renegade, who
said to himself as he started off:

" He’ll keep close enough, l’ll warrant.”

But hardly had Kyd disappeared than the
young man followed, and reaching the river,
after a long exploration of its banks for a canoe,
at length found one in which he crossed the
stream, headino' for Arfort’s cabin, filled With
wild fears for the safety of Maud Arfort.

A call from the bunk arrested him, just as he
was about to land. Steve Bevit and the force
from the settlement were there, in pursuit of the
retreating Sioux. Amboy was then informed
of all that had happened and eagerly joined in
the human hunt. The Sioux really were cor-
raled in the “ Dead Wood," a section of the for-
est which from some unexplained cause was ut~
terly dead and the ground was thickly strewn
with the dry debris, affording excellent cover
for a defense. Through Kegonsa’s activity the
friendly Ojibwah had made an entire “ sur«
round” of this wood, and when Amboy arrived
on the scene the movement against the enemy
was ready. The game was to be roasted alive
by firing the dead forest !”

To detail this act is unnecessary. The fires
were kindled to the windward, and aided by
the wind swept into the “Dead Wood ” with
rapidity and soon the lurking place of the Sioux
wasa sea of flame. An awful moment came.
The Sioux were driven to dash out of the vortex
of fire, but everywhere were confronted by the
deadly rifle or arrow and one by one they
miserably perished, helpless evou to strike back
at their avengers. It was an awful retribu-
tion.

But how many had perished? Were Wnube-
sub and Yellow Thunder in that caldron of
fire? were the questions asked among the trap-
pers, but none could answer. There were a few
of the Sioux at the last moment, burst out on
one side and gained cover, and these the Ojib-
wahs set out to pursue and hunt down, while
the whites returned exulting to the settlement.
Only Bevit. Kegonsa and Amboy headed for
Arfort’s cabin to see what was its condition.

By this time, it. was nearly morning, wanting
but half an hour to the rising of the sun.

On arriving within sight of Arfort‘s cabin,
they were brought to a sudden standstill by a
sight. to two of them, at least, wholly unex—
pected. In the center of the clearing upon
which the cabin had been built stood a number
of red-skins. With a single exception. these
were Sioux. That sin-:10 exception was Wnube-
sah the Ojibwah! Standing near him was the
chief, Yellow Thunder! ,

Altogether, the red'skins on the clearing
numbered eleven. A single glance was sufll~
cient to inform the trapper, Amboy and
Kegonsa what the motive of the savages was.
The door of‘ the cabin had been closed, and

near it stood three of the fiends who. with .

hatchets drawn, were endeawring to better it;
down. The door. formed of oakon plank, for
some time roasted the terrible blows of the
hatchets, but at length an aperture was made
in it. A wh00p of triumph went up, but before

“FW‘ -

.7._h‘».¢,.hs..~ .s e-

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i
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i

  

 

 

   

Kyd’s Bold Game.

.23

 

it had time to die away, the muzzle of a rifle
was protruded through the opening, quickly
followad by ’the whip-like crack and one of
the savages fell instantly.

But the redskins kept on. Supposing Maud
Arfort to be Within the cabin, Amboy was
trembling for her safety. The work of the
savages was being pushed successfully, and it
was probable that, in a few seconds longer,
their bows would be upon the aperture sufl'l—
cicntly wide to admit their bodies.

Only one thing was to be done. The three
men must gain the inside of the cabin. This
was of course impossible under ordinary cir-
wmstances, but now young Amboy made a
welcome announcement. The outlying smoke-
house—a stout structure of logs—was connected
with the cabin by a covered passage, made by

, Art‘ort for emergencies. This information open—

ed the way for the proposed relief of the poor
fellows within the cabin: and, in a few mo-
ments, the three men made a dash for the
smoke-house, and, entering safely, secured the
door, then started for the cabin.

The defender was found to be Rollo, who was
a delighted man to receive aid at that desperate
moment.

Steve's quick eye detected a suspicious mo ve-
ment among the savages. The dash for the
smoke—house had been observed by the wary
Waubesah, and his investigation showed what
had happened.

Tosee this was to follow it up, and Steve,
watching carefully, saw several of the Sioux
force the smoke-house door and enter it.

“The varmints’ll got inside 0’ the passage
next, I'll bet a plug 0’ ’baccy,” was Steve’s
natural conclusion.

The words proved true. Five or six of the

_ Sioux entered the passage, and commenced to

grope their way along it, being ignorant, of
course, as to where it would end.

Leaving Rollo to watch the cabin, Bevit,
Kegonsa and Amboy descended to the cellar.
Here they took up their position close to the
debouchure of the passage with drawn butchers.

Several minutes elapsed without the least
sound being heard, and then could be detected
the soft tread of a moccasined foot, followed
by the foremost of the Sioux steppinginto the
cellar. Keeping rfectly motionless, the trio
were not seen um 1 four of the red-skins had
shown themselves. The savage who made the
discovery was the third who had entered; but,
before he had time to give utterance to the
ejaculation that rose to his lips, the hatchet of
Kogonsa Split his skull in twain.

Amhoy and Bevit, too, were equally on the
alert, and two more of the red-skins soon fol-
lov‘ved in the wake of their companion. Two
more now remained. One who had just pro-
truded his head into the cellar whcu the first
blow was struck, was grasped by chonsa, and
the contest ended by the half-Mood’s plunging
his knife into the breast of the Sioux.

The remaining one was {warrior greatly sn-
porior in size to his companions, and who, sur-
prised us he had been, resolved to die as a war-
rior should. The trapper was standing nearest
to him, and with a quick spring, the Sioux was

. upon him.

 

The trapper essayed to use his hatchet, but in
vain. The arms of his wiry antagonist pinned
his to his‘sides. The ‘trapper’s weapon slip .d
from his grasp; just at the same instant e-
gonsa placed himself at the Sioux’ back. The
latter had dropped his hatchet to the floor, and
now grasped in its stead his knife. But, before
the blow came, the cunning Sioux suddenly re—
leased his right arm, and brought it sweeping
backward. The blow fell upon Kegonsa’s temple
and, with a low moan, the half—blood sunk to
the ground, insensiblc. Then, with a. terrible
effort, the trapper was flung to the further end
of the cellar.

For a moment, it seemed as if the savage was
master of the situation.

His eye next fell upon Amboy. With an ex-
clamation of rage, he drew forth his tomahawk.
Young Amboy drew forth a pistol he had bor-
rowed from Bevit.

Amboy pressed the trigger, the report came,
and the huge warrior fcll full length upon the
floor. He was dead.

By this time, chonsa had recovered from the
effects of the blow dealt him by the Sioux. and
the two ascended to the room where was Rollo,
actively engaged in keeping a sharp lookout for
the rest of the savages, who were still assembled
near the smoke-house. ‘

“ Wal," said Bevit, as his eye again fell upon
these. “ thur’s now‘ only two 0’ the varmints left. '
It's 0’ no use waitin’ for the varmints to attack
us ag‘ln. I, for one, don’t purpose to stay byur
all day.”

“ Gauder—lcgs—” addressing Rollo, “jest whip
that air six-shooter o’ yourn out o’ yer belt, an’
hand it over. I kin tackle the hull grist at
onc’t, an” may I be ’tarnally jugguzzled of I
don’t clur the clearin’ o" the skunks in less nor
five minutes. My dander‘s riz, it is. I‘ve sot
traps in every stream aroun’ hyur, and in a
good stretch o’ Britisher Ameriker for nigh onto
forty yearn, an’ jugguzzle me at ever an 'Injin
served me as that one did jest now. Wagh !”

Rollo handed the desired weapon to the irate
trapper, who, muttering to himself, disappeared
down the cellar.

A few moments elapsed, and then the trapper
was seen to emerge from the passage inside the
smokehouse. S.) quick and unexpected to the
savages was his appearance that it was not until
one of the chambers of the revolverbad been
emptied, and one of the red-skins dropped dead,
that the remainder became aware of their dan-

er. ,
g The eye of the trapper became fixed upon the
demon, Waubesah. The savage saw this, and
fain would he have avoided his danger. But it
was too late. The second crack came, and the
Ojibwah, wounded, fell to the ground. The *
bullct struck him in his right shoulder, imme-
diatcly bclow the clavicle. ‘

Though eluted at this, Bevit did not stop. In
a twinkling he set the third chamber in position
and the diScharge sent the noted Yellow Thun»
der to his last account. His two warriors saw
this, and, v. ith a yell of terror, they turned, and
disappeared in the forest.

The trapper was now joined by those he had
left within the cabin, and it was but the work
(if a few moments to bind the wounded Ojibwah

 

24 Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

and thus make him a prisoner. Thus ended the
last raid of the Sioux upon the settlement of
Montville.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE DOOM or A NIGHT.

AMBOY Kegonsa and the trapper immediately
proceeded with their prisoner toward the set-
tlement. As for Rollo, he did not accompany
them. The brave fellow preferred remaining at
the cabin.

0n reaching the settlement the news that the
dreaded Waubesah was wounded andaprisoner,
flashed through it like wildfire.

Arfort, more, perhaps, than any of the set-
tlers put together, felt gratified over the Ojib—
wah’s capture. The ravine of the Trail of
Death had now lost its horror. He was at
liberty to visit it when he pleased, and without
fear of being molested.

Toward the close of the day, the prisoner was
brought forth anl put upon his trail—if by
such a. name the proceedings could be called.
A few of the settlers, led by Arfort, were for
putting the prisoner to death, and at once—that
very night.

It was derided, then, that Wauhesah should
behung at sunrise. Arfort would have given
much to have had the sentence executed at
once. but his efforts were in vain. His oppo-
nents were as firm in one direction as he was in
another.

Leaving Maud at the settlement, Jasper Ar-
fort, soon time after nightfall, returned to his
cabin. Hadil not remain here long, for bid-
dingR ill.) accompany him, he struck off through
the woo is, The direction pursued was that
taken by Maud on the morning she had started
out in hopes of meeting Amhoy.

He reachel the two maples, and then struck
off through the thicket of hioknies, followed
closely by R3110. Presently he arrived at a

:ith which, though he had never looked upon
it before, he knew to be the Trail of Death.
The mvmn was at her full, high in the heavens,

and he was able to see his way without diffia

cultv.

He arrived at the debauchure of the ravine.
Here, turning suddenly, he requested Roll.) to
wait until he returned.

Entering the ravine, and it was not without a.
shudder that he did so, Arfort proceeded for

' some distance torward, when, in the moonlight,

his eye fell upon a sight th it caused him to stop
and throw up his hands in horror. There, as if
staring him in the face, he beheld the form
of a human skeleton—blanched, and as perf «t
as if fresh from the hands of an experienced
anatomist.

Had Arfort been alone he would have turned
back; but, knowing that Rollo was close at
band, he overcame the dread he felt, and kept

on.

Not knowing the exact location of the cabin of
the. Frenchman, or, rnther, the ruins of it, Ar—
fort kept a continual lookout on every side, and
after Considerable search, his pains were re wnrd-
ed by his suddenly and unexpectedly coming
upon the object of his visit to that dread lo-~
cahty. v

‘

 

After some searching, Arfort discovered an
opening sufficiently wide to admit his crawlin
in beneath the logs. This he at once resolve
to take advantage of; and, after drop ing on
his hands and knees, and casting nice about
the ravine, to assure himself that no human eye
was following his movements, he crawled in be-
neath the logs. There was nothing to stay his
grogress, and he soon had the satisfaction of

nding himself on the very spot he had so long
wished to gain.

There was a strange glitter in his e e, a nerv-
ous trembling of his muscles, as e drew a
hatchet from beneath his close-fitting coat, and
struck the sharp blade into the round.

“ The money is buried here,’ he muttered.

“I feel it. But I may have to dig a week be
fore I find it. But no matter for that. That
red-skinned cut-throat will never bother me
more. Ha! ha! the rising of to-morrow’s sun
will see him launched on his long 'oumey.
Thanks to young Amboy for this. oble fol-
low! He loves Maud—she loves him, madly.
She shall have him.”
_ The last word had not fallen from Joe or
Arfort’s lips, when he felt a hand laid u on is
shoulder. Horror-struck, he turned. t was
dark, but he could see fastened upon him a pair
of blazing eyes.

“Do you know me?” the owner of the orbs
asked, after the lapse of a few seconds.

“I do,” answered Arfort.

“ My name?"

“ You are Kyd.”

“Right, Jasper Art'ort. You thought you
had foiled me, did you?
made many mistakes in his lifetime, but never
a greater one than to—night. I saw you leave
the fort; I trarked you to your cabin; I ,follow-
ed you from thence here; I heard your words.
Come outside. Another surprise awaits you.”

Arfort felt the withdrawal of the 9 es from
his own, and heard the s aker makingv his
way out to the open air. 9 followed. ‘ hat
else could he do?

As Kyd had said, Arfort, on finding him-
self from beneath the ruins of the cabin, did
meet with another surprise—a surprise far more
terrible than the former. There, his horrid
figure looming up in the moonlight, stood the
one whom Arfort had imagined to be a doomed
prisoner——the dreadful Waubesah. The Ojib-
wah stood eying Arfort with an expression so
terrible that he was like to swoon beneath it.

“The pale-face thought that Waubesah was
to die,” the savage said at length. ‘,‘But no.
His is a body that knows no captivity. When
the Great Spirit, who rules the sky, wills it,
then shall Wauhesah die—but not before that.
He has felt the pangs of fire, and the pale-face
has made redder than his skin his back with
cruel whips, but he yet lives, lives in spite of all.
Will Artort, when another moon shall ride
above the tree-tops, be able to say this? Wan-
bessh thinks not. He has entered. the ravine
which is approached by the Trail of Death.
He must diel’ '

The words fell noon the ears of Arfort like a
knell. He was to die! How terrible—terrible
was the thought. He would have given his all,
the money he hoped to have broughttoligbt,

 

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Kyd’s Bold Game.

any thing he possessed, to have been Within his
cabin at that moment. .

“ Fooll fool!” he thought, “ not to have waited
until to-morrow!”

But it was too late to indulge in thoughts
like these. He had been in haste to secure what
but awaited the hand to bring it to light; he
had been detected, and whatever the conse-
quences were, he must take them.

“ Jasper Arfort,” said Kyd, when the Ojib-
wah had finished, “ I heard the words that fell
from your lips, a few minutes ago, when you
thought there was no one near to hearyou. You
said that Amboy loved your daughter Maud,
and further, that she loved him. Did I hear
aright?”

‘ I did say that,” answered Arfort. “ It is
the truth.”

“ Has she told you so?”

L‘ S’he has told me so, last night. Why do you
as ’1’

“ Because she is my romised wife."

Arfort was silent. yd continued:

“She is my promised wife. Have you forgot-
ten that promise?”

“ No, but deplore it.”

“ It does not matter. I shall have her. 1 am
not a man to be easily balked. I love Maud
Arfort, and this very night I shall have her.
Jas :- Arfort, do you desire to live, or do you
pre or to die?”

“ To die? No, I am not fit for that. Give me
my freedom and any thing I possess is yours.”

‘ Spokeh like a man. At the entrance to this
ravine stands your sentinel. Bid him go to the
settlement and bring your daughter, and you
are a free man.”

“ On your honor?”

“ On my honor; I will not lift a hand against
you.

Raising his voice to its highest pitch, Arfort
called Rollo. He was answered.

“ Go to the settlement,” Arfort yelled, “ and
bring Maud. Tell her, if she wishes to save my
life, to come without delay.”

“ Never fear,” Rollo answered, from his osi-
tion. “ I will be back soon, bringing Miss and
with me.”

K“dWell, are you satisfied?” asked Arfort, of
y .
“ Quite. As for Waubesah, you must settle
matters with him as best you can.”

Arfort started.
~ “ Haveyou no influence over him?” he asked.

“ None. , V,

The words sounded to Arfort like his
knell. He was left to the mercy of the Ojibwnh.
He had nothing to hope for, and he knew it.

“ Pale-face,” said the Indian, “ what do you
wish for?” ' »

“ My life," was Arfort’s answer.

“ Do you remember, when the sun last set,
that your ale-face friends dragged Waubesah
out to ho d a council over him? Who was it
that wished him to die the soonest?”

Arfort made no reply, and the savage con-
tinued: ' _ I

" I Wlll answer for you. It was yourself—Ar-
fort. See! This is my revenge.”

There was a sudden movement on the part of
the Indian, 9. shriek from Arfort, who, the next

 

25

instant, sunk to the round, his skull cleft in
twain by the blow of is enemy’s tomahawk.

“ Thus dies," he said, to Kyd, “ Waubesah’s
greatest enemy.”

CHAPTER XIX.
THE RAVINE GIVES UP ITS MYSTERY.

IMMEDIATELY upon hearing Arfort’s order,
the faithful Rollo started out for the settlement,
at which he arrived, being a quick walker, in a
short time.

He immediately proceeded toward the fort,
arriving near the Stockade of which, he was
challenged by the séntry at the gate.

“ Ohl" said the latter, as he recognized the
Yankee. “ It’s yew, be it? We], what’s in the
wind now. boyee!”

“ Can’t say, adznctly. Miss Maud inside?”

“ Who d‘ye n.ean——Arfort‘s daiter?”

Cl Yes.”

” Sart’in, she be. What mou’t ye want with
her, boyee, at this time o’ the night?”

“ Arfort wants her, an’ as quick as she kin
come, too.” ’

“ Wagh! thui"s a somethin’ up, I s’pect. How—
somedcver, it’s none 0’ my biziness, so I’ll call '
the gal. Just keep yer eyes peeled ontil I come
back, will yer?”

The trapper, who was none other than our
friend Bevit, immediately eutez 9d the fort,
from which, in a short time, he returned, ac-
comBanied by Maud Ai‘fort.

‘ id father send for me?” she asked of Rollo.

“ Yas, Miss Arfort. He told me to tell you to
come at once, it' you wished to save his life.”

“ What could he mean?” she asked, frighten-
ed at the words, “ Was he alone, Rollo?” ‘
1“}:Val, yaas. At least, I didn’t see any one

e se.

“ nick, then! Let us hurry to the cabin.”

“ o the cabin. Lor’ bless yew, he ain’t thur.”

“Where, then, is he?”

f‘ At the ravine, miss—at the ravine what
Waubesah lives.”

Maud Arfort, as this was said, turned white
as a sheet.

“ Then,” she said, in a low tone, “my father
is a doomed man. It is said that whoever enters
that ravine is fated to never quit it alive. Again,
Rollo, are you certain that he was alone ?"

“ Waal, yaas. I warn’t with him, ye see. He
left me to keep guard at the entrance o’the ra-
vine. But come to think, though, I did hear the
sound 0’ voices. P’rhaps it war Wauhesah his-
self as war talkin‘ to yer father.” ‘

“ Waubesah! No, no. He is a prisoner. But,
oh, God, he may have escaped.” ,1

It needed no further incentive to cause Bevit
to hastily enterthe fort, and make his way to
the cellar. Entering this, he looked about him.
A Itallow candle lit up the place with a soft
light, but it was quite sufficient to show the
trapper that the savage he sougjht was no ion er
there. . No, he had made good is escape. th
a shout which rung through the fort, the trap-
per ascended the rude stairway to above ground.
In less than a dozen seconds, his snout was an~
swered. ' I

“ What is up?”

“ Quick l” Bevit answered. “ The cussed Ojib— ,
wnh has cut clur. Hurry up, duru ye!”

 

 26

Kyd’s Bold Game.

 

\

Exclamations were heard proceeding from the
different apartments, and in five minutes, a
dozen hunters and trappers were crowding; into
the stockade.

“Boyees,” said Bevit, when all were present,
“that red-skin has fooled us ng’in. More‘n
that, It’s more’n likely that he has gone to the
ravine whar he lives. an’ our I’rh-n’ Arl’ort is in
dan er. He hes sent for his dzu'ter. I s’pect
" thars some devilish game bein‘ hatched, an’
* depend on it, comrades, Waubesah nn' that
" Kyd air at the bottom 0’ it. Tnis devilish
pair hev bin a-hevin‘ it thar own way long
enough. The rest o"ye kin say what ye like,
but as for me, I’m determined to hunt ’em
down, an’ settle tha’r business at onc’t and for-
; , ever."

i , “ Ye ain’t alone, boyee. It war time months
ago that the two war clur’d out. The mystery
0 the ravine o’ the Trail 0’ Death may be a deep
‘ one, but not so deep but what the death 0’ that
i r branded red~skin may clur up. I’m in fur goin’
; to the ravine, an’ at onc’t.”

2 And, with one accord, a dozen resolute, deter-
mined men announced their readiness to follow
in the footsteps of their two companions who
had 'ust spoken.

“ ' o the ravine, then,” said Bev1t, “an’, God
, willin’, before the sun shall rise, the mystery
= shall be a thingr of the past.”

; ~ Bidding Maud Arfort return to the fort, as—

' sured that her father should soon be clear of

all ianger, the band passed outside the stock-

a le, and plunged into the forest, heading for tho
rivine.

Before this was reached, their plans were

. formed. Were the band to enter the ravine in a

body, they might be detected by the wary 0jib-*

wnh, and Arfort could not live a moment lon-
ger. Therefore, before the ravine was quite
reached, the band were to halt, and Rollo alone
was to enter the abode of the Ojibwah, and in-
1 form Artort that his daughter refused to accom-
‘ pany him further than the cabin. He was to
make a. good use of his eyes, and a yell from him
would be the signal for the band to dash for-
ward, and seize the Ojibwah before he had time
to nit the ravine.
hey followed alonz the Trail of Death until
they arrived at a huge oak. As Revit knew,
this tree was not over a hundred yards from the
debonchure of the ravine. an'l he accordmgly
gave the signal for the halt to be made.

“ Now, Rollo. boyeo,” he said, to the Yankee,
“ kee cool. Ye’ve got a dangerous errand to

’do, an’ it’ll be a streak o’ luck of ye kin git the
advantage 0’ the red-skin, who, ten ag’in’ one,
will keep his karkidge out 0’ sight. But the mo-
ment ye air sure he air ’ithin the ravine, gi’ us
the yell.”

In spite of this, the heart- of the brave Rollo
was not one whit dismayed. and he started im-

, meiiately on his errand. He entered the ravine,

I and, as he dill so, he heard a. slight rustling of
the pushes to his right. But, supposing it to
have been caused by some animal, he heeded it
not, but kept along his course.

When, after having, entered the ravine, he
had proceeded for some fifty yards, a llguro sud-
denly loomed up in the pathway. For a second
or two, owing to the distance and the dim light

of the waning moon, Rollo supposed it to be
Arfort. A second look, however, showed him
his mistake. The figure was neither that of
Art‘ort nor the Ojibwah. It was Kyd—a man
whom Rollo hated far more than he did Wau-
besah.

The two men approached each other—distrust
and dislike on one side, curiosity on the other.
When but a few feet from each other, both men
halted, and stood looking into the other’s face.
Kyd was the first to break the silence.

“ Did you deliver our master’s message?”

“ Sart’in I did. bar is Arfort?”

“Just behind me—only a short back. But
where is—his daughter?”

“She wouldn’t come any further than the
cabin.”

“ Hal Then she is there, is she?"

“It ain’t at all unlikely that she be thar.
Why?"

Instead of answering the uestion, Kydlgave
vent to a dry, forced cough. mmediately 0110
became aware that some one was behind him
but before he had time to turn, he felt himsel
seized, and, powerful as he was, and being taken
at a disadvantage, he was dragged to the
ground. Kyd, too, a moment later, assisted at
the work, and Rollo, in a very few moments,
was a prisoner.

But he made not the least outcry, and it was
fortunate for him that he did not.

“ We will not harm him—at least for the
present,” he heard Kyd remark to the Ojihwuh,
inalow tone. “We may need his assistance
yet. My bird is at her cabin. We have no
time to spare, Waubesab. See! The moon is
near to the horizon, and our work must be done
before daylight arrives.” V

And, after assuring themselves that the thongs
which bound their prisoner were perfectly se-
cure, the two worthies quitted him.

Rollo waited, but not long. He waited until
they could but have been a few yards from tho
debouchure of the ravine, and then, raising his
voice to its highest pitch, he called to his com—
panions that their time had come.

His signal was heard, and the trappers, in an
instant, were dashing toward the ravine.

When the debouchure was gained they saw,
looming up before them the figures of Kyd and
the Ojibwah, petrified for an instant, at the un~
expected sight. But it was only for an instant
that they remained so, for, with an ejaculation
from each, they turned, and disappeared from
sight in the bushes. They were instantly fol«
lowed, but without success. ,

For over an hour was the search kept Up. but
the two villains were not found. Both had es-
' caved, and by a path known only to Wgubesnh.

But, if they were not discovered. their search
proved to be to the trappers anything but a use-
less one in another direction.

Two or three of the hunters had been beating
the bushes in the interior of tho ravuie, when to
their surprise, a faint voice_at once attracted
their attention. Tnehnntersjlstened The words
they had before heard were repeated:

“ fat, amis. Je suis ici.”

“ What is it?” queried one of the hunters of

 

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“ Dunno,” was the answer. “ Durn me if I
kin tell whar the Wise comes from!”

Again was the cry repeated, and this time a
little louder.

“ Weigh!" said one of the hunters. “ it’s some
one as the red—skin has shut up. S’ai‘ch, coni—
rades, an' We’ll find some way to get at him.”

The search soon ended by the discovery of a
hole in the ground in the midst of acopse of
hazels. The aperture was sufficiently large to
admit the body of a man, and one of the hunters,
without more ado, disappeared in it. In a few
seconds an exclamation was heard from the
hunter:

“ Bu’st my b’ilerl
tlesnakes all to blazes!
phat!”

The various exclamations to which the hunter
gave vent had hardly died away, when be ap-
peared above ground. Then, kneeling down
close to the hole, he put his arm down as far as
he could reach, saying: ,

“ Be keerful now. Don't hurry. Your bones
must be as brittle as dry sticks, by this time.”

Slowly drawing up his arm, the hunter at last
brought to sight the head and shoulders of a
man—an old, old man. Amoment later, and he
stood before the wondering crowd, the target of
all their eyes.

It was a picture which those who looked upon
it never forgot. The long, white hair, the deep.
ly wrinkled, haggard face, the sunken eyes,
added to a once urge and powerful frame, but
now bent and distorted with a long confinement
in the place from which he had been rescued by
the hunters, made those who looked upon him,
used as they were to suffering, turn sic '.

“ Do you know me?” he asked, after some
moments had assed, in broken English.

“ No,” said vit. “An’ et, your voice I’ve
heern before, somewhar. ow long hey you
been in that air cussed place, mister?

“ I do not know. But it must have been for
years. Some of yen, perhaps, knew me long
ago. I was called Jae ues Pictoue.”

Had a thunderbolt alien, it could not have
surprised them more than this announcement.
Yes, they knew him to be the rich French man
who had, years ago, lived in the very ravine in
which he now stood, and who was supposed to
have been murdered.

No wonder. then, that unspeakable surprise
sealed, for a. time, the lips of all.

At lost, however, the old man was led to, and
seated on a log, while the hunters stood around
him in a circle to hear the story of his imprison-
merit.

“ Hyur, mister," said a young hunter, holding
a flask of brandy up to the Frenchman‘s lips.
“take a. swig 0’ this. It’ll gi’e ye more strength
to wag yer tongue."

The kindness, rough as it was, was appreciated,
and the Frenchman swallowed a large draft of

This beats Injuns and rat—
Waugh! Geehose-

'tlie brandy. As the hunter had predicted, it

seemed to arouse all his energies, and he was
not long in commencing the history of his im-
.‘ m .
pr}??? iSen:0W years ago,” he‘said, ” since I first
came to this place, and built my cabin here.
How many years it is, I am not able to say. To
me, it seems a hundredq
a.

 

“One day. I was just seated at my dinner,
when a soft tread on the threshold informed me
that some one was behind me. I looked back,
and I met the gaze of five Indians. 'l‘hev nod—
ded—the usual Indian greeting—and cuteréd my
cabin. They were hungry. I gave them plenty
to eat. After that they rewarded me by tome"
hawking me, but not in such a. manner that
recovery was impossible.

“ For many days, however, I lay at the point
of death. But during that time, 1 was cared
for by one who, if her face was red, had the
heart of an angel. One. day, feeling a little
easier, I took a pen and ink, and wrote on it in
cyplier, bidding her, after I had given her the
paper, keep it always. Poor Agramona! I
never saw her after that day. When she next
visited the ravine, she found I was gone. She
thought me dead. But I was not.

“ On the very night of the day that I had
given the writing to Agramona, Waubesah, the
Ojibwah, as he was called, at that time, visited
my cabin. He seized me in his arms, and car-
ried me to the place from which you have to-
night delivered me. Here he has kept me ever
since. Once in a while, he would permit me, at
night, always, to leave my prison, and breathe
the fresh air for a. time, he always keeping a
good lookout on all my movements. As for food
and drink, I had always plenty. His reason for
keeping me was, he hoped to make me reveal the
place where I had buried my gold. But I did
not. Had I been sure of liberty, I Would have
done so at first. But I knew, full well that, its
hiding-place once discovered by him, his toma—
liawk would end my life. So lived on, hope
keeping me alive. What year is this?”

“It is 18—” answered one of the hunters.

“Then I have been living.r in this manner for
over eighteen years! Mon Dieu! it seemed ten
times as long.’

This, then was the mystery of the Ravine of
the Trail of ’Death.

By this time, the moon had sunk belovv the
horizon, and the ravine was wrapped in gloom.
The search, then, after Ai‘fort, would have to
be delayed until it was once more li Lt.

Patiently the hunters waited. he eastern
horizon at last began to be mantled with gra —
the harbinger of the coming orb of day. The
birds awoke from their sleep; and the sun, at
last, burst in all its. splendor into sight.

Ten minutes after, one of the hunters reached,
in his search, the ruins of the cabin. Arfort lay
on the ground before him—a horrible sight. He
had bled profusely, and the ground about him
was red with the vital fluid. . Life had long been
extinct, for the bod 3? was cold and stifl‘.

A cry from the hunter who had discovered the
body, brought his companions to the spot, and
many and loud were the exclamation: heard.
Arfort, with all his faults, had been a popular
man, and his fearful death was to be most terri-
bly avenged.

 

CHAPTER xx.
TREACHERY’S REWARD.

WE will not attempt to describe the feelings
of Maud Arfort when the remains of her father
were brought to the settlement. It was, indeed,

.. a... . «Mammava

28 " Kydfs Bold Game.

.V

 

a terrible trial to her. That afternoon Art'ort
was buried. She kept within the fort all day.
,But, at length, when evening came, half—dis~
trusted, she found her way to the bank of the
river.

Seating herself, she gazed across the water.
The scene was well calculated to bring relief.
'1‘ is full moon was sailing above the trees, its
light making the waters of the lovely Minnesota
glisten like precious stones. All was calm—only
i is evening Zephyr slghing in the tree-tops, and
the whippowil breaking the silence.

Suddenly, the sad thoughts the young girl

‘ was enduring were interrupted. She heard a

step behind her. She would have glanced back
but before she could do so, Henry Amhoy stood
before her.

“ Pardon me for disturbing you, Miss Arfort,”
the young man said: “ but I have come to bid
you adieu. I may not have another chance to
do so.” . I

She did not speak, but she felt the blood rush
like a torrent to her head. (He continued: .

" When I am gone, will you sometimes think
of me?”

It cost him an effort to say this.

“Think of you! Oh, yes. Often—often!”

“ Then I shall be satisfied. I am going away.
I shall never see you again, but be not angry
with me for saying this—that I love you, Maud —
love you dearly.”

This unexpected annunciation caused the
young girl to look up. That the words were
said in earnest, her woman’s keen perception
saw at a. glance.

“@Mr. Amboy—Henry—do you indeed love
me

“ Love, Maud, is a word which but feebly ex-
presses my feelings for you.”

“'I believe you. Oh, Henry! Henry! I, too,
love you. I have loved you from the first hour
I ever saw you."

Unmindful of the time, as it flew rapidly by,
the lovers retained their places near the bank of
the river. She, in her new joy, had forgotten
her sorrow—she thought only of him at her
side. His arm was around her, and as she gazed
across the sparkling water, her head lay pillow—
ed on Amboy’s'manly breast.

Suddenly a dark object, not a dozen feet out
from the brink, was seen by the young man to
be floating down the stream. It was a canoe.
It contained one person—the Ojibwah. Amhoy
recognized the fiend on the instant! So, too,
did Maud, and simultaneously the lovers spring
to their feet. ,

“ Uzhl” runted Waubesah, as he saw this.
“ Waubesa discovered. He must wait.” And

dipping his paddle deep into the water. he sent

the cmoe rapidly down the stream—‘that is, as
rapidly as it was ossible to do with one arm.
For a moment, eury knew not what to do.
He was aware that Kegonsa. Bavit and r1 numv
her of others had, some time since, started out
in search of the red-skin, who had, in some
manner unknown to him, succeeded in eludng
them. The Ojibwah must not escape. The
young.r man determined to follow the fiend, no
matter how mad the attempt might look. He
it most have been who had murdered the father

I of her whom Amhoy loved, and that was enough

V"

 

in the eyes of the young man to thirst for the
savage’s life.

He imprinted a kiss on her forehead, and quit
ted her presence with sudden alncrity.

So unexpected was this, that it was some little
time before she could recovered herself suffi-
ciently to act. She rushed with all her speed
in the direction Amhoy had taken, but she
was too late. Amhoy had already embarked in
a canoe.

Dipping his paddle deep into the water, Am-

hoy caused the canoe to fly down the stream ,,

like an arrow. Some distance below, a point of
land ran out into the river, and around this, the
Ojibwah had disappeared just as Amhoy had
embarked.

The young man’s only fear was that the In-
dian might land. Were he to keep on the
water, Henry knew he could overtake him.

The pomt was reached, and, like an arrow
from a how, his canoe shot past it. The canoe
and Ojibwah were before him—«the savage pad—
dling leisurely toward the bank.

Immediately upon sighting the Indian, youn
Amhoy withdrew his paddle from the water an
placed it on the bottom of his canoe. His next
movement was to draw one of the revolvers
now in his belt and level it. The crack followed,
and the Ojibwuh gave vent to a yell and dropped
his puddle into the stream. The ball had gone
throuih his hand. Almost instantly, the fugi-
tive upset his canoe, preferring to trust himself
to the water rather than to the aim of his
enemy. ’

Seeing this movement on the part of the In-
dian, Amhoy restrained his fire. replaced the
weapon in his belt, grasped his paddle again,
and headed toward the bank.

The Indian was afast swimmer, even wounded
as be was, and it was not over three minutes be-
fore he reached the bank. Amhoy strained
every nerve and muscle in the chase, but the
savage was the first to reach the bank, and
drawing himself out of the water. he, to the
chagrin of his pursuer, quickly disappeared
among the bushes.

Amhoy knew that his trying to discover the
whereabouts of the Ojibwah, alone and at ni ht
time, would much resemble the seeking 0% a
needle in a basket of chafi'. He knew, too, that
the glen of Kyd was not more than a mile and a
half above the point, and if the trappers were
there, he could warn them at once. This could
be done through the young half-blood, who,
Amhoy knew, was in their company.

Producinga small whistle, which Kegonsa had
presented to him, Amhoy placed it to his lips.
Instantly, the signal was answered—answered
from a point half a mile distant.

“ Ha!” ejaculated Amhoy, “ they failed, of
course, to find the savage, and are returning to
the settlement.” ~

He again sounded the signal, in such a man-
ner that Kegonsri would know that immediate
assistance was re nired. ,

A few minutes ater, he heard the noise made
as the band made their way rapidly through the
bushes, and suddenly a voice said:

“ Geehosephatl Thur the varmint goes!”

The Voice was that of Bevit. The words were
quickly follovmd by the crack of a rifle. 5

I

 

 

 

 

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Kyd’s Bold Game.

29’

 

“Missed him—” An o‘ath finishing the sen-
tence.

Amboy’s canoe was lying close to the hank.
The young man leaped from it, and, Without
waiting to draw the craft from the water, run
rapidly forward. In a. very short time he
arrived within sight of the tru ppers. Just as he
did so, Bevit and Kegonsa jerked into sight
from behind a bush is struggling savage. It
was Wuuhesah, the Ojibwah.

“ At last,” said Bevit, “ ye’r’ caged, so that ye
kin never ug’iu get loose to raise more deviltries.
Quick, comrades; I’m sick 0’ the sight 0’ the
ugly Varmint. Give him his desarves at onc‘t.”

Ten minutes later, and suspended by the neck
from,the limb of an oak, VVaubesah was being
choked to death. Finally, when his pulse had
ceased to beat, he was cut down.

The tragedy was finished by Kegonsa. The
young half-blood split the skull of Waubesah in
twain.

“ This,” he said, “in memory of my father.”

 

And where was Kyd? A search in the dreaded
ravine being instituted for the Frenchman’s
buried treasure in the ruins of the old but, re-
vealed another tragedy. There, over the. spot
Where the box had been buried, was discovered
the body of Kyd, his skull Haven in twain. The
earth had been stirred, and the box evidently
had been exhumed. yet had not been returned to
its hidingI- lace. The evidences were that the
renegude god been discovered by the branded
chief in the act of a¥propriating the treasure,
and had been brainvl on the spot, and Waube-
sah had rehuried the box in order to regain it at
some future day. That box of gold was his
doom and Kyd’s curse. The two villains had
met a deserved fate.

Bevit is still a trapper. He and Kegonsu. soon
after the death of Waubesn h, struck off into the
forest. and set their traps in the streams near
the Red River of the North.

A year after the death of her father, Maud
and Amboy were united in marriage.

THE END.

 

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s

 

BEADLE’S BOY’S LIBRARY.

 

04 Young: Dick Talbot‘ or. A Boy's Rough and
Tumble Fight from ew York to California. By
A. W. Aiken.

65 The Bo Pilot; or, The Island Wrecker.

B!
Col. P. ngraham.

66 The Desert Rover; or. Stowaway Dick Among'

the Amos. By Charles Morris.

67 Texas Charlie, the Boy Ranger. By Col. Prentiss
Ingrahum.

68 Litile_Ri[le; ‘or, The Young Fur Hunters. By
Captain “Bruin " Adams.

69 The Young Nihilist; or, A Yankee Boy Among
the Russians. By Charles Morris.

70 Pong, the Cowbo ; or. The Young Marshal‘s
Bai . By Major . B. Stoddard, Ex-Seout.

71 Rufl' Robsm't and His Bear; or, The Trail of Lit—
tle Rifle. By Captain “ Bruin " Adams.

72 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways oi! the Lone
Coast. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

78 The Young Moose—Hunters; or, Trail and Camp—
Fire in the New Brunswick Woods. By William
H. Manning.

74‘ The Boy Coral-Fishers: or, The Sea Cavern
Scourge. By Roger Starbuck.

75 Revolver Billy, the Boy Ranger at Texas. By
001. Prentiss Ingraham.

76 The Condor-Killers: or, Wild Adventures at the
Equator. By T. C. Harbaugh.

77 Lud Lionheels the Youn T or hter. 8
Roger Starbuck. g lg m y

78 Flatboat Fred: or The Voya e oi.‘ the Ex rl-
ment. By Edward Willett. g pa

79 Boone, the Hunter: or The Backwoods Brothers.
By Captain F. Whittaker.

so Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Cascades.
By R. Starbuck.

81 The Kit Carson Club; or, The Young Hawkeyes
in the Northwest. By T. C. Harbaugh.

82 Little Buck, the Boy Guide; or, The Gold “Eye "
oi! Montana. By Barry Ringgold.

83 Pony Bob, the Reckless Rider of the Rockies. By
CoL P. Ingraham.

84 Captain Fly-by-Night' or The Colorado B0 3 on
the WarvPath. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. y

85 glapifiiin Ralph. the Young Explorer. By C. D.

ar .

86 Little Dan Rocks; or, The Mountain Kid's Mis-
sion. By Morris Redwing.

87 The Menagerie Hunters; or, Farm Hobart, the

I Animal Queen. By Maj. H. Grenvfile.

88 The Boy Tramps- or Lite Amen the Gi si s.
By J. M. Hoflmau'. I g p e
89 'Longshore Lige' or, How aRou h Bo Won H‘s

Way. By C. D.4Clark. g y l
90 Roving Rifle, Custer‘s Little Scout. By T. C.
Harbour: . .
91 Ore on Josh. the
‘ buc .
92 Hurricane Kit: 01'. Old htnin on the Ram
ago. By A. F. Holt. mg g p-
93 J um imz Jake, the Colorado Circus Boy. By B.
Bain ridge.

Wizard Rifle. By Roger Star-

94 Sam Spence, the Broudhorn Boy. By Edward
Willett. ‘

95 Moscow to Siberia; or, A Yankee Boy to the
Rescue. - By Charles Morris.

06 Fighting Fred; or, The Castaways of Grizzly
Camp. By'l‘. C. Harbaugh. ,

97 Cruise 01' the ll'lyawav: or, Yankee Boy! in Ca
. ion. By C. Dunning CIA it. r ‘y

‘

 

98 The Boy Vizilantes; or,
By Major B. B. Stoddard I

99 The White Tigers; or, Silver Rifle, the Girl Track-
er of Lake Superior. By Capt. Chas Howard.

100 The Snow-Shoe Trail; or. The Forest Desper-
adoes. By St George Rathbone.

101 Mariano. the Ottawa Girl; or, The Mysterious
Canoe. By Edward S. Ellis. -

102 The Flyawa Afloat; or. Yankee Boys Round
the World. y C. Dunning Clark.

103 Pat Mullouey's Adventures- or. Silver Tongue.
the Decorah Queen. By 0 i1. Edwar s.

104 The Boy Pros ector' or 'The Secret of the Sierra
Ravine. By oger éwrhuck.

105 Minonee, the Wood Witch; or, The Squatter‘l
Secret. By Edwin Emerson. *

106 The Boy Cruisers; or, Joe and Jap’s Big Find.
By Edward Wiliett. ‘

107 The Border Rovers: or. Lost on the Overland
Trail. By J. Milton Hoffman.

108 Alaska, the Wolf-Queen. By Captain Howard
Lincoln. '

109 Christian Jim. the White Man's Friend. By Ed‘
ward S. l is.

110 Plucky Joe, the Boy Avenger.
man. I

111 The Border Gunmaker; or, The Hunted Maiden.
By James L. Bowen.

112 LettHan'ded Pete, the Double-Knife. By Joe.
E. Badger. Jr.

118 The River Rifles; or, The Fate of the Flatboat.
By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. «

114 Alone on the Plains' or, The She-Eagle’s Venge-
anoe. By Edward Willett.

115 Silver Horn, and His Rifle Firedeath. By Roger
Star-buck. ‘ ’

ng Cole and His Band.

By J. M. “off

116 Ex loits oi Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsm’m.
By merson Rodman.

117 The Young Mustangers; or, Dick Merry’s Ran
gers. By C. Dunning Clark.

118 OlddTraps; or, The Boy Rivals. By Barry Ring-
go .

119 Center Shot, the White Crow. By T. C. Har-
bench.

190 A Hot Trail; or, Clark Cloverly Among the Tar-
tars. By Charles Morris. ‘ ‘ '

121 Hunter Pard Ben; or, The Wekash‘s Blind Lend.
By Roger Star-buck. I .

122 The Esquimaux Queen; or, The Mystery of the
Lone Hut. By G. Waldo Browne. ‘

123 Tim‘, the Boy Acrobat; or, Life in the Circus
Ring. By Charles Morris.

1534 een Bessie, the Border Girl. By Henry J.
Slime.

125 T'om Tabor, the Boy Fugitive: or. The Young
Lynch Gang Wolves. By Barry Ringgold.

126 Mink Coatrthe Death—Shot; or. The Spring of
the Tiger. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr. '

1?? The Deer Hunter; or, Life in the Ottawa Coun»
try. By John J. Marshall. -

128 Wolf Ca. ; or, the Night-Hawks of the Fire-
Lands. y Capt. Chas. Howmd.

129 Silverspur; or. The Mountain Heroine. By Ed.
ward Willett.

Ll) gegtsea, Queen of the Plains. By Percy B. St
0 n.

131 Wistah, the Child Spy. By George Gleason.

138 an: island Tm per: 01'. The Young White—Bur-

Euntarfl. 5' Charles Howard.

 

BBADLE’S BOY’S LIBRARY.

0

138 The Forest Specter; or, The Young Hunter’s
Foe. By Edward Willett.

184 Wild Net, the Trooper; or, The Cedar Swamp
Brigade. By Wm. R. Eyster.

185 The Silver Bugle; or. The Indian Maiden of St.
Cro By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine.

MThe Prairie Tralpper; or. The Child of the
Brigade. By C. unuing Clark. .

157 The Antelope Boy; or, Smoholler, the Medicine
Man. By Geo. L. Aiken.

188 Long Shot; or, The Dwarf Guide. E Ca tain
Oomstock. y p

139 Colonel Crockett the Bear Kin . B O.
Lasalle. ’ g y E’

140 Old Pegs the Mountaineer or, The Tin er
Rivals. y Lewia' W. Carson’. pp
141 The Giant Hunter; or. The Mad Scourge of the
Kickapoos. By Barry Hazard.
w Black Panther. the Half-Blood; or, The Slaves
of the Silver Mines. By J. E. Badger. Jr
143 (krson the Guide; or. The Perils of the Fron-
tier. By Lieut. J. H. Randolph.
144 Kent, the Ranger; or The Fugitives of the Bor-
der. By Edward s. Bills.
1-15 Bill Robbins. Hunter; orI The Man in Green. By
Edward Willett.
146 The Halt-Breed Rival; or. The Tangled Trail.
‘By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.
147 The Masked Avenger; or, Death on the Trail.
By Col. P. Ingraham.
148 Nat, the Trapper and IndianFighter. By' Paul
J. Prescott.
149 The Eli: Demon; or, The Giant Brothers.
T. O. Harbnugh.
150 The Boy Mustang—Hunter; or, Eulalie, the
Beautifu Amazon. By Frederick Whittaker.
151 Frank Yates. the Young Trapper; or, Mountain
Kate's Warning. By Joseph It. Badger, Jr.
152 Wild Raven, the Scout; or. Blanche, the Over~
- land Maiden. By 011 Coomes. ‘

BY

158 Lynx—Clip5hor, Four Trappers Among the Sioux.
{1

By Paul be.

154 The Champion Texan Rider; or. Red Buflaio
and the Hercules Hunter. By Barry St. George.

155 Dusky Dick's Doom; or. Tobe Castor, the Old
Scout. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr. p

156 Frank Bell, the B0131 S y: or, The Mystery of
Crystal Lake. By 0 oomes.

1!!! Nick Doyle, the‘ Gold-Hunter. By P; H. Myers.

158 Kidnaélped Dick; or, The Fate of the Fire-Fly.
By J. tanley Henderson.

159 Sam‘s 1pm; Trail; or, The Twin Scouts. By W.
J. Hamilton. ,

160 Bank Triplet’s Vow; or, The Old Guide’e Wrong
Trail. By Barry Hazard.

161 The M‘id Skipper; or, The Cruise or the Monon'
gahela. By Roger Starbuck.

162 The Trapper Kink; or, Old Bear—Paw, the Yan-
kee Scout. By Maj. Max Martino.

163 Simon Kenton, Hunter; or, The Renegade‘s
Doom. By Emerson Rorlman.

164 The BoyChler; or, Frank Bell's Compact.
011 Gnomes. ,.

166 The Trader Traitor; or, Old Bark the Marksman.
By J. Stanley Henderson.

166.014 June‘s Clew: or, The Darky Detective. 3’
MN. Orrin James '

167 The Youn Trailer; or. The Black League’s Plot.
By W. J. mliton.

By

 

168 TheS ecter f5 '7; or, The Wizard Canoe.
Maj“ wisW. v son.

169 Lank Lute, the Old Colorado Hunter.
W. Archer.

170 The White Wolf; or, Following a. Trail.
Edward Wiliett.

171 The Swamp Guide; or, Canebrake Nose and his
Dog. By W. N. McNeil.

I
172 The Yankee Paddler; or, Jabez Hawk. the Spy.
By C. Dunning Clark.

173 The Scout and His Young Chum.
St. 0 n.

174 Blacksmith Tom's Mask; or, The Renegade
Rival. By Geo. D. Gilbert.

175 The Buckskin Rider; or, The White Sconrge. By
Guy G1 eenwood. r

176 The S uatter’s Surprise; or. Frontier Life at
Squire oker’s. By Mrs. H. J. Thomas.

177 Four Fellow Scouts; or The Unseen Hand. By
J. Stanley Henderson.

178 Old Kit and His Comrades; or. The Long Trail.
By Jos. E. BadgerY Jr.

179 Uncle Grill‘s Disguise: or, Tom Drain, the Young
Ranger. By Harry Hazard. ‘

180 The Marked Miner; or, Jolly Jun the Dutch' \
Trailer. By Lieut. Col. Hazeitine.

181 The Wild Huntress; or, Old Grizzly the Bear-
Tamer. By Capt. Bruin Adams.

182 The Dwarf Decoy; or, The White Steed Rider.
By Marc 0. Rolfe.

188 Job Dean’s Tacfics; or. The Captain’s Fair
Rescuer. By Ingoldshy North.

184 Yankee law‘s Dilemma; or, the Schemlng Suite!
Foiled. y J. R. Worcester.

185 The Wily Witch’s Ward. 'By Edwin E. Evin.

186 Frank, the Furrier: or, The Yankee Engine!
Medicine Arrow. By J. Stanleyfiendenson.

187 Diana, the Fair Mountaineer. By Capt. F. Whit-
taker.

188 Jack‘s Snare; or, The Kent Boys’ Plot. By Mrs.
Ann E. Porter.

180 Sam, the Swamp Scout. A RomanCe of 1779.
By W. J. Hamilton.

190 The Dashing Trooper; or The L{tilteiir'eed's
Revenge. By Frederick Dewey.

191 The Boy Brave; or Stone Castle‘s Shrewd
Schemer. By James 13. Bowen.

192 Sandy Bill, of Texas; or, The White Apache‘a
Doom. By Edward Willett.

x93 Harry Winkle‘s Long Chase; 01-, the Haunted
Hunter. By Wm. B. Eyster.

194 Creeper Cato, the Shadow Swamp Trailer. By
F. Dewey.

195 The Ranger Detective; or. The scalpless Hunter.‘
By Harry Hazard.

196 Gypey Mag, the Mountain Witch; or. The Mye~
terioue Mute. By 0. D. Clark.

197 The Branded Captain; or, The Silent Slayer. By
W. J. Hamilton. '

we; on Crossfire!
Young Trailer.

By
33719.

B!

By Warren

or Frank Nesb‘lt.

By gig». Charles Howard

 

the r

 

BEADLE’S BQY’S LIBRARY.

Published Every Saturday. Each Issac Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents.

 

199 Zebra Zack, the Texan. By W. J. Hamilton. [

200 The Nanwloss Hunter: or. the linootah Scourge. l
By Gem-go W. Robinson. l

201 The Yanku: Captives. liy Elward Willow. i

202 ’J'i-(ldy‘s Long 'l‘rnil. By Elwurd S. Ellis.

203 0 il Hunk. the Hermit; or. The Captnru
Cave. By Edward W. A Cher. I

201 Goosehrall‘s Best Shot. liyJos. E. Badger, Jr. J

205 The Dutchman‘s Uri-ml: or. Gottlioh and his i
Hunter Purd. By L‘an Charles lloward. l

206 Kit Burt’s Musk; or. Nick the Scout. By W. J. 1
Hamilton. l

207 EagleEyed Tim; or. The Crafty Captain’s Plot. ‘
By C. Dunning Clark. .

208 The Villa 3 Sport; or. The Young Mechanic's i
Muster. y James L. Bowen.

209 Buck Burt‘s Pluck; or, The Scouts of the Scioio.
By Edward W illett.

210 The Tell-Tale Bullet; or, The Outlaws’ Fate. By
J. Stanley Henderson.

211 The Boy Surveyor- or Rngy the During Rider.
By W. J. Hamilton.) ’ Y

212 Yankee Drover Swipes; or, The Young Mustang
.Rider. By Seelin Robins.

213 Silver City Tour; or, Blue Belt‘s Barter.
James L. Bowen.

214 Nick, the Dr-toctiw-z or. The Border Vngnbond’s
Doom. By Edwin Emerson.

21.”; Mustang Rider Boy; or. The Brigands of Texas.
1y Albert W. Aiken.

216 The Dakota Dutclnnnn; or. Sharp Eye's Brave
Bind. By Maj. Max Mai-tine.

217 Yankee Josh, the. Roz/er; or. Two Advoniurers
in thil Tl'OIllCS. liy D. II. ilelkmtp. M. l).

218 New York Nod in California: or. The lh'oihvrs of
the League. By W. J. lltnniltun.

219 Kentucky Kate‘s Shot: or, Border Fovs’ Frays.
By Edward Willett.

220 ’Frisco Frank’s Rival; or. The Gold Cavu of
Death Valloy. By Paul J. Presentt.

221 Boat 11‘ 13:19:. Df-trotivo; or. Trailz-r Tom’s Tool.
By Lewis Jay Swift.

2‘22 Sly Sam’s Snare: or. The Boy Hunter‘s Vow.
By LOIIiS'LL’gl‘Etnil. M. I).

223 Olianncy’n Word; or. ’I‘ e Rustic Riilo Rinr
gers. By Mom. (20]. Huxrltinr.

224 Ruttlupatu. vlm'anml); :1 Story of New York in
Early ‘inirs 5y Scott R. Sherwood.

of tho 

By

1

225 Night Hawk Bill; or. The New York Sportsman‘s
Ciew. By W. J. Hamilton.

226 The l\i--sked Maniac; or. The Oil Man‘s Mission.
By Miro O Rolfe.

227 Barney‘s Bold Brush; or, Three Yo-ithsin Idaho.
lly Janms L Bowvm

5328 Th" Demlwo'i‘ Shorts: or. Diamond Dick's De-
livo zmoo. [43' Li in. S. (i. Lansing.

229 Hans .‘lv-hmirll. Jr.; or, This Disguised Yankee.
liy W. J. Hamilton.

9230 Lone Star’s Him- Shot; or. The 0111- Al‘llle'l Rivul.
By l~lnrry Hazard.

231 Mark Morgan‘s Musk; or, The Girl Avenger. By
Cnpt. ‘Chnrles Howard.

: 23f) Zarh‘sGhost Trap; or, The HauniuJ iiunsu.

 

232 Billy Broom‘s First Cruise: 01', Tom Pintle. the l
‘ Pilot. By H. Minor Klapp. ,-

233 The Girl ltilie Shot. By W. J. Hamilton

2H 03.1 Ky] ‘5 Long Tramp; or, chi". tiioRenrgade.
By Henry J. ’l hornus.

; 2535 Old liillSycn‘s Pix-Ilge; or, The Texan Unmet: 12'. (1.

By Ed ward VVilleit.
2313 The On-thu-Wing Dub alive; or. 'i‘rnclirz: ;; I." w
York Bank Robot-2r. By Ed. S. Ems.
237 The DolFHn's Young Skipper; or, Will
the Fear Pimte. By Roger Srurhucli.
2‘38 Josh’s Bo Pards; or, The Mysterious Sky Run-
ger. By ‘. G. Lansing.

2'39 Lee Dakin‘s Disguis‘e: or, The Madman's Re-
venge. By Marc 0. Rolfe.

240 Daring: Dick’s]. Rome; or. The Yankee l’eddlur‘s
Surprise. By Arthur L. )‘leserve.

241 Uncle Ephv's Boys; or. Archy Gordon’s Grit.
By J. Sta .ley Henderson. ,

2L2 ‘Cychst Bob Sum-ed; or, The Champion‘s Rival.
By C.:pt. R. M. Hawthorne.

243 Flash‘Lirzht Joe; or. Brave, the Cmine Smut.
By Charles P. Isloy. ‘

2411 Bob Baker‘s Last LPa. ; or Girl Renben's Re~
vengr. By T. Benton hiolds. U. H. A. .

215 North Woods Nat; or. The Young; Mountain
Captain. By W. J. Hamilton.

216 The Girl Chief; or, Dolly’s Droli Disguise. lly
J. M. Merrili.

247' Denver Dick. the Rattler: or. The Miners of
Deadwood Gulch. By Harry Hamid.

248 Black Jim‘s Doom; or. Billy Bowlegs’s Revenge.
By LiontCol. Hazotline.

249 Morgan. the So Row-.2" or. The Shde Scotch-
mun’s Scheme. By Jolm S. Warner '

Ving.

13!
G \orgo Applvgnte.

2’31 Kyil‘s; Tin] l Game; or. the Death Trail T\Trstery.
lsy Pnnl Bilihs.

Sancho Sam‘s Shot; or. Fort Binklty‘s ifprcicr
Ridz rs. By G orge Gli‘asm.

. Ready February 9.

253 Crafty Crazy Slack; or, The French anri ive.

13y Iarr Hazard.

Ready ('bruziry 16.

252

251le Fighting Inner; or. The Dr. ll limig‘s
lxismnv. iiy Imlwzzro S. Ellis. '
Ready Fol'ruury 

255 Tho Rangv-r‘s Fi’h.‘ Cruise; or, The Yank l Yer
Ann-um] r.- .lu' n H. miner. I
Ready Mnrrh 

2.36 Bob anr’s (3| cw; or. The Boys of Logger (lamp.
By John N -n.l
Really March il.

l“: nmc‘s Roy‘s: Limumr is for sale by m. News-
(lvalers, five (2: his per copy. or s‘nt by mail on re-
ceipt of six cents one".

“ Bums AND Amns. Publishers.
98 William Street, New York.