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Copyrighted,1387, by Bun“ AND ADAMA. Entered m the Post 0111ch :1. New York. N. Y.. M Second Clm MI“ Mlfler. March 5, 1887.

 

02.50 Published Weekl b Beadle and Adams P
v01. XIII I Year. No_ 98 Wluzuys-L' NEW YORK. , Flverléeel‘ltl. N0- 

 

 

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BHVEB. BOW GAME; IT THERE, WHILE TEE TBA? WAS UNSPRUNG?

 

 

2 Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

‘ Frank Yates,
THE YOUNG TRAPPER:

on,
Mountain Kate’s Warning.

 

BY JOS. E. BADGER, J R.,
AUTHOR or “ MABIPOSA MARSH,” “ THE PRAI-
nnt RANCH,” “ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE,”
“THE COLORADO BOYS,” ETC., ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
“ MQUNTAIN’ KATE.”

“ TURN out, b0ys—-turn out! It’ll be well—
ni h onto day afore ye git your grub ett."
he voice was a somewhat peculiar one, but
not unpleasant to the ear, though did one jud e
from the regretful grunt that greeted it, t e
‘ speech was a most unwelcome one to those whom
it aroused from a sound slumber.

The scene before us is one not frequently met
With, and never within the pale of civilization.
It is, in fact, what mi ht be called a trapper’s
home, serving as his eadguarters during the
season, from which be con] make short excur-
sions in any direction when the weather per-

tted.

This “home” was of peculiar construction.
but well adapted to the purpose for which it
was intended: combined comfort and safety. It
was composed of a front and roof, with two
halfesides.

First, a location had been chosen near the
river, where was a high hill, sheltered from the
north and east wmds. Then a hole had been
dug into the steep hank, after which green cot-
tonwood had been brought into requisition for
the buildin .

The sma 1 10 were hewn and dovetailed, so
as to render t e inmates comparatively safe
from bullets entering the interstices. Thus,
when the Work was completed, only the front of
, the structure could be seen, having the appear-
ance: of being built against the perpendicuar
ban . \

The advantage thus given the inmates in case
of an attack, may easily be stated. While the
ground was frozen. an entrance could only be
effected through the front. 'Z‘o attack this, the
enemy must expose themselves freely. The
green wood, full of sap, would not burn, so en-
trance, if any, must he forced.

Besides being easily defended. a but such as
this is very warm, and easily made comfortable.
The fire at the back, whose smoke curls upward
through the narrow hole-chimney, keeps one
warm as toast. _

“’Tisn’t morning yet, is it, Tobei”yawned
one of the two men whose slumber had been
broken by the man whose call heads this chap-
te

r.
“‘ Yas, it is that. Go down an’ sense your head

' in the hole I cut through the ice, an’ you’ll feel
all right. Make haste—it’s ’most time to start
on our rounds,” replied he who was called Tobe.
The young man opened the slab door and ran

r.

 

downtothe river-bank. Though yet early in
the season, the ground was covered to the depth
of a foot with snow, and the river was already
be 'nning to freeze near its banks.

blutlons performed, the young trapper re-
turned to the but, where he found his comrades
busily engaged in broiling meat, the savory
smell of which proclaimed it buffalo-steaks,
from one slaughtered before their usual winter
migration southward.

The firelight flickered brightly over the faces
and forms of the three tra pers, and lent acoseyb
look to the rude abode. o the walls still hung
sundry pelts, torn from the beaver, otter or
mink, that were not yet sufficiently cured to be
packed away.

Tobe Castor, the eldest of the party, was a
professional trapper. From boyhood he had
followed the life, and now, though but little over
thirty years of age, he was regarded among the
craft as a first-class hand.

He was very tall, of a rather spare build,
but his frame was covered with good muscle
and brawn, that a life of constant toil and
exertion had rendered as firm and tireless as
bands of tempered steel. His hair, worn long,
was corn-colored or sandy; a thin, spare beard
of the same hue covered the lowsr ortion of his
face. His small gray eyes, whi e displaying
considerable humor, were at the same time
shrewd and cunning.

The next. a mediumsized man of near Castor’s
age was Tom Taylor. He was good-looking,
dark as a Spaniard, well educated, and of a
rather taciturn disposition.

The third member, Frank Yates, was nearly
a decade younger than his comrades. He was
tall well built, of a massive, yet active form,
well-skilled in gymnastics and the use of arms.

He was the scn of wealthy parents, and had
taken a fancy to pass one winter in the trap-

ing-grounds, in which resolve Taylor joined
im. Together they journeyed West, and at
Marysville, Kansas, engaged 'Iobc Castor to act
as me and instructor.
us it chanced that we find the veteran trap<
per in such an abode. He knew that the un-
season “ settlement boys” could never stand
the exposure of a winter’s trapping. as it is usu-
all conducted, and for their sake had this
“ ug—out” been constructed. . -

It was now in the latter part of November,
and they had been at wor for more than a
month. Their success had been fair, so far, and
while having “ lots of fun,” bade fair to make a
“ pile ” as well.

“Now, boys,” said Tobe, when the edge of
hunger had been taken 01!, “ we‘re goin’ to work
in airnest. The bufl‘lers hes gone furder south,
an’ in co’se the reds hes gone too ,as the don‘t
keep fur apart. You know the l’ay o’ t e ken-
try well a—plenty, now, not to git lost, an" from
this on, each one ’11 take a sep’rate‘ beat. Each
one must ’tend to his own traps, skin an’ stretch
the pelts, keepin’ his eend well u . We’ll take
turn about cooki'iiéhazi‘ t’oatliers’ see to keepin

b on hand. a 58.
grH‘I’m agreed,” said Yaisres, “ and I know Tom
‘ H

.Taylor nodded while masticating a meme] of
juicy steak,

 

Prank Yates. the Young Trapper. 3"“

 

 

“ Good! you each know where we sot our
traps—best start out an7 look to ’em. Set em
what’s sprung, an’ then come back. We must
kill some bait to p’ison wolves with to-night.”

There was little more said. Thus far as there
was danger of falling in with roving bands of
Indians, the party had kept pretty well together;
but now that this danger was greatly lessened,
and the two youn men had gained a fair idea
of the work theifiife was to take a more busi-
ness-like tui’n.

The but was left in charge of Turk, a huge
mastiif, crossed with bull, and the trio set out
u 11 their rounds. We will follow Frank

ates as on that day he was fated to encounter
somet ing that would change the whole tenor of
their lives. either for better or worse.

As yet their operations had been confined to
the main stream—Powder River—on which
their headquarters had been chosen. Along the
left bank of this, above their den, was the beat
of Frank Yates. '

He hastened along, whistling merrily? for the
clear, cold air was very bracing, and e was in
prime health. As the light of day came clearer,
a dandy of the cities wopld have stared aghast
at the young trapper’s outfit.

On his head was a conical cap of wolf-skins
lined, with ear-flaps coming down and tying be-
neath the chin. A wammus of wolfskin; a sort
of tight~fltting sack, minus sleeves, reaching be-
low the waist; heavy moleskin ants. buffalo
moccasins, the skin being strippe entire from
the animal’s legs, then one end sewed up, into
which the wearer’s feet were thrust, while a
stout thong held them close to the knees.

Such was our young trapper’s garb: rude, but
essential to comfort in that cold region.

A short—barreled rifle of heavy ca iber, a brace
of revolvers, Colt’s Navy pattern, a stout-bladed
bowie-knife and a short-handled ax were his
weapons. The latter was for cutting stakes and
floats to secure the traps.

A small pouch contained a supply of “ beaver
bait:” beside it hung several “open links" to
mend any broken chain. In this sketch the
reader has before him a trapper of the present
day, who combines convenience with other
traits.

Evidently Frank’s fortune was not to be
largely increased-by the proceeds of that day’s
trapping, for the first half-dozen that he visited
were found empty and still set. Wondering at
this sudden fal ing 03, Yates reached the next

trap.

Like the others, it was set, and seemingly just
as he had left it. But as he stooped low down,
Frank‘s sus icions were aroused.

Upon bot jaws were particles of fine fur, that
he knew had come from the leg of a beaver.
How came it there, while the trap was un-
s rung?

That admitted of but one answer. They had
been sprung, and some one had removed the
game, afterward setting the traps, to avmd sus-

ioion! ’
p Naturally enough, this created not a little ex-
citement in the young man’s mind, for it spoke
plainly of danger; not only to their profits, but
to their lives as well. And that this was a cun-
ning and admit thief, was equally plain.

 

toward the spot, his rifle ready cocked.

Search as he might—and under Tobe Castor’s
tuition Frank’s eyesight bad wonderfully shag?-
ened—he could find no other traces left by e
marauder.

Frank stood beside the last trap—empty like
the rest—his face lighted by an angry glow.
Had his gaze lighted upon the fur-thief then, it
would have gone hard with the rogue.

“One thing is certain,” muttered Yates, re<
flectively. “ The rascal must have his narters
somewhere near here. or else he won d have
stolen the traps, as well. No doubt he counts on
having a pretty soft thing, but he'll slip up on it.
I‘ll find him out if I have to watch a trap night
and days"

Fran paused abruptly with a start. As he
spoke, his gaze turned down 11 n the stream,
and close to shore, he noticed w ere a man‘s foot
had trod upon a lump of soft clay, leavinga
near] perfect imprint.

“ a! I have not been up that far—it must be
his! Small, neatly-shaped—a moccasin; and the
toe pointing up-stream. Maybap I can track the
fellow home—1’11 try it, anyhow l"

Yates kept along the edge of the stream for
several hundred ards, and then his keen eyes
detected where t e thief had left the stream; the
broken edge of a snowdrift, where the crust had
not been thick enough to hear his weight. But

then upon the frozen snow, hard almost as ice,
Frank soon lost the trail.

While searching for it, the quick. hea thud
of horse‘s hoofs, in rapid gallop, start] him.

Frank sprung back and sunk down in a small
hollow, where his body was below the level of
the snow around, and with cocked rifle he await-
ed the result. -

The sound came from a narrow defile-like val-
ley almost directly before him. Scar-uer had
Frank located this than the rider appeared in
full view, seeming y about to override him; but
then abruptly turning, dashed up the river, to«
war a second valley, where were several large
trees and a scattered patch of plum-bushes.

Yates could not entirely suppress the cry of
wondering admiration that rose to his lips as
this strange apparition dashed past him. And
truly, there was little marvel in his feeling sur-
prissd. '

The rider was a woman, mounted upon a snow-
white horse of great beauty, though its small
size proclaimed it' a mustang or Indian 
Even in its fleetin glance, Frank saw enough
feel that he behe d an uncommonly beautiful
woman, and springing to his feet he was just in
time to catch another glim 'e asshe disappeared
amidst the plum thicket al uded to.

As he stood thus, new and significant sounds
saluted his hearing, comi from the direction
in which the strange ri er disappeared. He
knew that she was in trouble.

A shrill scream, an afirighted neigh, the con-
fused beating of boots upon the frown snow;
then a human voice, a report, closely fol-
lowed by a muflled snarl. 0 sound of a fleet-
ing horse, two more shots in quick succession.
with‘an angry cry, told the oung trapper that
the rider must have been an rsed

Without pausing to reflect upon the possible
danger to himself. Frank Yates darted hzsgly

w

.4

 

  

  

a“-  was t... ,r- ...

 
 

4 V Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

leaps carried him around the turn, and then a
thrilling sight met his gaze.

The woman that he had seen was upon the
Egonnd, half-lying, half—supported against a huge

wlder. Standing partly over, partly u on
her, was a wild beast, its eyes glowing Vivi ly,
its long talons tearing the thick garments, its
powerful jaws apparently closed upon the wo-
man’s left arm that, thrown up, guarded her
throat. _

At that moment a revolver in her right hand
pointed to the animal’s heart was discharged,
and another muffled snarl broke the air, telling
how hard the bullet had struck, and Frank could
see that the woman was coolly cocking the wee.-
pon once more. .

He flung up his rifle, and, With a quick aim,
fired at the animal’s head. W ith a. fierce scream,
the brute sprun high into the air, seemineg
death-stricken. ut as Frank sprung forward
it rose and darted upon him.

Its heavy weight bore the trapper backward
to the snow, but. while one hand forcibly held
back the bloody jaws. Frank’s long knife flashed
in the sunlight, and the str gle was ended, al-
most are it had commenced. ith a dying snarl,
the fierce beast fell back, tearing the snow in its
last throes.

As Frank arose, he beheld the strange woman
standing close beside him, gazing curiously into
his face. For a momentJhey stood thus, seem-
ingly trying to read each other’s character. The
trap or was the first one to speak: _

“ Igardon me, lady, but you are hurt?”

“No, only a few scratches that are nothing.

‘ But I must thank you that it is so. I had but

one more shot, and the. brute was hard-lived.
Mv arm was weakening—then he would have
had me by the throat. ”

Frank was doubly surprised now that he heard
her voice for the first time with distinctness. He
wondered greatly how it was that such a being
was living in that wild section.

She was young —evidently still in her teeiis~
yet of a superbly developed form and beautiful
face. Her complexion was dark, yet of that
rare clearness and purit through which the
rapid flow of blood was distinctly visible, show—
in that no aboriginal taint was in her veins.

er form was garbei in a fancifully-orna—
merited suit of whiter bleached doe-skin; from
one shoulder depended a cloak of the Silver fox,
thickly lined and wadled. Moccasms and leg-
gings rotected her lower limbs. A piquante
cap of ne fur, from the side of which floated a
scarlet plume, lay upon the snow, having been
lost durin the struggle. Her hair, loosed by the
same, floa far down her shoulders in silken
masses, black and glassy. Her trim waist was
encircled by an embroidered belt, in which rested
a jeweled poniard, and the empty sheath of the
revolver of which she had made such good use.

This was the picture that Frank beheld. Her
voice was clear and calm, with a rich, mellow
cadence, its evenness as she spoke evincing the
presence of no usual courage, so recently after
her death-grapple.

Little wonder, then, that Yates was bewildered
by such a vision, in that wild and dangerous
section, where, in winter, the sight of a squaw
is a great rarity, much less a beautiful pale-lace.

 

 

An amused smile playing around her full lips,
showed Frank that his bewilderment was ob-
served, and conscious that his stare had been
rude, he stammered an apology.

“ It _1s but natural," laughed the strange being,
“cons1dering the time and place. But let me
thank you—only for your timely assistance, I
would now be lying as that beast is.”

Frank glanced toward the animal, and saw
that it was a rare one for that region; he had
never met its like before. Its thick body, short,
stout legs shaggy coat and bushy tail, the long
curved claws and dog-like jaws, together with
its remarkable tenacity of life, recalled the fabu-
lous stories he had often heard regarding it, and
he knew that he beheld a wolverine; the carca-
jou of the Canadian voyageurs, the “ Injun
devil” of the trappers. Not even the panther or
the black bear is so greatly dreaded.

“ Are you sure you are not hurt?” cried Frank,
anxiously. “The excitement may prevent you
from noticing it at present. Your arm—he had
it in his mouth.”

“ My cloak, rather,” laughed the woman. “It
has suffered the most.”

“How did it happen? I didn’t know they
would attack a rider in that way.”

“ It was lying in wait in yonder tree, and
as I passed under it sprung down, alight—
ing on Snowdrift’s haunches. The fright caused
Snowdrift to rear, and I—clumsy rideri—fell
off. You know the rest.”

“Your horse is—hai is not that it?” cried
Frank as a shrill whicker was heard from up
the valley.

“ Yes. He has come back to find me. I
will call him up,” and the woman blew a tiny
Silver whistle.

After a moment’s indecision, there came the
quick thud of hoof-beats, and the snow-white
mustang dashed up beside its mistress, whick-
ering jo fully, though cyin the dead beast
with evi out suspicion. It he escaped with but
a few scratches.

“A n3b1e animal, lady. But pardon me—I
am a rough, plain fellow and used to blunt
speaking. I own up that I am very curious to
learn how it is that I meet a lady in this wild
country. You can not have been here long, else
we would have met before. Can you trust me
far enough to gratify my curiosity?”

“ Yes—because your face tells me you possess

honor and truth. I need no better evidence that
you are a gentleman. Besides; you have earned
the right. I will tell you who and what I am,
though perhaps ’twould be wiser if we parted
now; then you might remember me—if ever—
w1th respect and kindly feeling,” somewhat
gloomin added the woman.
. “You speak in enigmas,” said Frank, not a
little surprised. “ I, too, profess some skill in
physiognomy, and [read that on are a true
lady: but why add that? I Will not attempta
defense so needless. Little dan er, lady, but
that I will think of you often and indly enough
-—-perhaps too much so for my own peace of
minr .”

“ There—I did not ask for compliments, and
you are taking thehsurest method of making me
detest you,” impatiently cried the strange be-
ing.

  
  
   
  
 
   
   
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
   
  
  
  
   
    
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
     
     
      
      

 
   

(

Prank Yates, the Young Trapper. 3

 

“ Truth is not flattery; but I will try and not
offend again. You promise~—”

“To tell you who and what I am; so I will.
But first, yourself. You are not a trapper——
that is, not a professional one.”

“ No. I only came out here for the sport,
and to kill time.”

“ ’Twould have been better had you chosen
some other place for that, I fear.”

“I differ. I esteem myself’as very fortunate
in coming here.”s

“ But you are in danger—in great danger,
every day of your life, while staying here.
don’t mean by the usual perils of the life, but
other greater ones. against which you can not
guar . If you value your life, you will per-
suade your companions to leave this region im-
mediately,” earnestly uttered the woman.

“ That would be difficult, if not impossible.
But how did you learn that I had companions
here?”

“ I know all about you—Where you live, your
numbers, names and all. And others know, too.
There rests your danger. Prudence is at times
the perfection of bravery. It is no shame for
three men to retreat from two-score and more,
who are bent upon their destruction. ~Take my
advice—it is that of one who Wishes you well.”

“ It' you know us all, you doubtless know
somethin of Tobe Castor‘s character. Is he a
man to ee from a vague and undefined peril?
Tell me plainly what is the nature of the dan-
ger that threatens us, and I iromise to state it
fairly to my comrades, and a ide by their de-
cision.”

“ ,1, will do so. You have heard of Carl Shen-
sen?

“ The outlaw—the land-pirate! Indeed I
have!” cried Yates, in surprise.

“ You are trapping on ground that he claims.
A treaty with the Indians gave him a right to
all furs caught within a circuit of fifty miles
from this spot. He has lately come bac tohis
winter-quarters, near here, and looks upon you
three men as interlopers. If you know so well
his reputation, you can easily divine your dan-
ger, when I add that his hand numbersovertwo-
score men all devoted to him by the stron est of
bonds. H’is spies haVe traced you out, an even
now may be taking measures to effect your cap-
tivit or death.”

“ ay I ask how you gained this information?
Not that I doubt your words or good-will, but it
seems strange that a lady like you should know
any thing concerning such a gang.”

“ I am his—Shensen’s daughter,” quietly re-
plied the woman.

Frank stood aghast. He could source believe
his senses. This beautiful creature the child of
that man—of whom so many bloody and ruth-
less deeds had been told. Impossible!

She read this incredulity in his face and smiled
sadly. Her voice was low as she added:

“Yes, I am his daughter. No wonder you
look horrified. And to think that you compli-
mented a criminal—or the daughter of a crim-
inal! Is it not humiliating?” ,

“ You wrong me, young lady,” earnestly utter-
ed the young trapper, “ as well as ourself.
Your father may be all that men call 1m, but
you are blameless of that. That face does not

I

 

cover a heart of sin. This confession but in-
creases my respect for you.”

“Thank you. I am very grateful for your.

words. Had I heard more such, I would have
been better than I now am. But think of my
life! Left motherless in infancy, with no living
relative save my father, I have been a wanderer
all my days. I grew up amid scenes of wrong
and violence, and was taught to believe them
right, until I grew into aclearer light. Now,
every day of my life is a torture. And et,
what can I do? Despite all. I love my fat or
and he is very kind to me. That makes it still
harder for me to see him stain his soul with such
deeds. But, bad as he is, I believe my influence
has saved him from becoming worse. Whenever
I feel tempted to flee from them—to try and be-
gin a new and better life—I think of that and
feel that my duty is here with him. Besides, I
have no friends—no living relative, and where
could I go? What could I do? Nothing! I hm

doomed to live out this life, to die as I have eVer .

lived—an outcast!” bitterly uttered the maiden.
Frank knew not What to say, though be deeply
felt for the strange being he had so stran ely
met. But then she roused up, and with an e ort
lclast aside the gloomy air that had fallen upon
er.
“ Bahl I am growing sentimental—something
I detest. Pardon me for boring you. But you
will heed 111 Warning?”

“I will tel my comrades what you\have said“

Whatever they decide I will agree to. One mo-
ment, before you o—may I not hope to meet
you again, soon? lease say es?”

“ It is better not. I have ard thou hts now
regarding the life I am compelled to end, and
the characters I am forced to associate with,
and seeing an. honest gentleman, a type of the
outer world, would on y increase my longing to
escape from this living death. No, it is best so.
But remember, there is danger here in every day
that you remain. Take warning from me, who
wishes you and your friends good, and retreat
while there is yet time. Do not delay—it may
cost your life!”

With these words she sprung into the saddle.
but Frank touched the bridle-rein. She turned
her head.

“One moment. If we decide to leave, will
gogmot let me see you again, to tell you good-

“ Well—yes. You can leave a note in the fork
of this tree—direct it to ‘ Mountain Kate,’ and I
will get it. Now, may I go?” laughed the
maiden.

Reluctantly Frank withdrew his hand, and
then with a gay wave of hers, Mountain Kate
dashed away up the valley, vanishing around
the bend like a flash of light. ‘

CHAPTER II.
run SPY.

IT was some moments after the disap
of Mountain Kate around the ban , before
Frank Yates could remove his gaze from the
point Where he had last beheld her; and then it
uasa half-sigh of mingled regret and per-
plexity.

In fact. the young trapper had become deeply
interested in this strange being, who was so

 

  

ranoe v

    
   
  
    
    
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
   
 
  
  
     
  
    
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
    
  
   
    
        
      
      
   
  

Prank Yates. the Young Trapper.

 
 

 

gloriously beautiful and so fearlesa, while seem-
ingly possessing a kindly heart and tender sensi-
bilities. Frank would have laughed, had any
one hinted at late, but in truth, the maiden who
had given the peculiar name of “ Mountain
Kate, ’ had, in that brief interview, more deeply
interested his heart than ever woman had done
before.

“ Beautiful—gloriously beauti full And yet
she is that bloody demon’s dau hter!” muttered
Frank, as he began carefully re ceding his rifle.
“ I can hardly believe it yet; wonder if he didn’t
steal her from some rich, noble family? ’Twould
be a fitting sequel to our romantic meeting,”
laughed the trapper, as he stooped over the dead

t.

“I’ll take the hide off—’twill be a good re-
membrancer of the adventure. Little danger of
my forgetting it soon though. Those eyes still
burn in my mind. dove! ow they flashed as
she taunted me with complimenting the daugh-
ter of a criminal!”

Though of no very extensive experience as a
hunter, Yates managed to skin the wolverine in
good style, and then, with it strapped upon his

ack, he set out for the “ dugout.“

When he reached it, Frank found both his
comrades there, they havin completed their
rounds. That their trapsha not been robbed
he had am le proof in the number of pelts that
lay aroun , being arranged for stretching.

“ Hello, Frank 1” called out Tobe, glancing up;
“ what luck? We did bully. Thunder!”

Frank stepped within and flung the hide from
his shoulder. Tobe recognized the animal’ from
which it had been strip , and that called
forth the ejaculation terminating his congratu-
laiiolns' d 11 b 1 l B bull t

‘ njun ev' , y 29- ory 0y, y or

ou—it’s somethin‘ to brag on, that is. Look,

‘aylor -—five holes an’ a jab! Au’ you ain’t
hurt, nuther?” rattled Tube, turning again to-
ward Yates.

“ No~l had help, though I gave
touch. with one hand on its throat.

“ Help? Git out—don’t I know better! Thar
hain’t nobody ’round here to help ye, ’cept us,
an’ we—" I

“There you’re out, che, for there are other
persons near by, and some who mean us no good,
at that. But listen, and I'll tell you the whole
affair.”

Frank gave a clear and circumstantial ac-
count of what had befallen him that day, his
comrades listening with breathless interest. As
Tobe heard the warning given by Mountain
Kate, and her mention of Carl Sheiisen, he drop-

sd his pipe in momentary dismay.

“ Thar it is—durn the crooked luck! I thought
thet cussed imp hed kicked the bucket, for he
hain’t n hereawa for the last three year.
Now, est as the pe ts air a-swarmin’ lively, he
must stick in his or’nary nose jest to sp’ile the
fun. But she told ye true, Frank. He’s jestold
Satan when he gits his mad up, or takes a spite
ag’in‘ a teller. Thar hain’t nothin’ too bad or
cussed fer him to do then. Ef so be he
really is down on us, it’ll be hot old times,
ouless we pack up an’ float our sticks some’rs

,the finishing

“ I'll either

“ I leave it to you,” said Frank.
stay or go, just as you please.”

‘ An’ you, Taylor?”

“ We. are making a good thing here. I move
that we see this Shensen, and get him to listen
to reason.”

“ You wouldn’t see him more’n onr’t, then,”
drny observed Castor. “He’s got a mighty
quietin‘ way about him. His hand drops to a
pistil-butt, nat’ally as a. duck takes to a J une-
bug. Mebbe I could do somethin’ with him,
though. He’d orter be kinder ’commodatin’,
beiii’ as I onc’t saved his life arter his skelp hed
fa’rly started. Ef Pd ’0) linowed it was him,
though, durned of Pd ’a’ lifted a finger. But
never mind that. Seein’ you leave it to me, I
say stay; anyhow, oiitil I (in git a word ’th the
imp. Mebbe it’ll be all right when he knows
who we air.”

“Is he really such a desperate character as
those fellows made him out to be, at Marys-
ville?” asked Frank.

“Wal, yes, I don’t know but he is, purt?r
nigh, though I reckon they did lie, some. Its
nat’ral, ye see. Near as I kin make out, he
used to live in Kaintuck, an’ got mixed up,
somehow, ’th 8. gang 0’ boss—thieves thet was
bu’sted up thar. They couldn’t prove nothin’
ag’inst him, but they giv’ him a thunderin’
lickin", an” then ordered him to leave the State.
Thet riz the devil in him, bigger’na woodchuck,
an’ one night notion a’terwards, he kem back
an’ slit the throats 0 two 0’ those who’d done
the Whaifpin’, stole a boss an‘ kerried off his
lettle g ; the one who’s Mountain Kate now.

‘f Then he jest nat’ally spread hisself, an’
soon got to be the best knowed feller in the
State. He picked up a gang of the same kid-
ney, an’ fer a year, war hevin’ things purty

much his own way. But then the Vigilantys
went fer him, wiped out his gang, an purty
nigh bagged him.

“Next thing he was heei'd 0’ out this way,
a-fioin‘ fer emigrant trains, an’ sech like, leadin‘
a ig band 0’ red-skins. As such fellers will,
he rawed together another gang 0’ white
devils, au‘ sence then he’s range] irom the Mis-
sour to the Rio Grande, heviii’ things purt
muc tha’r own way, as he’s 00d fri’nds ’t
most all the defrunt tribes. '1his gal o’ his’n
al’ays rides with him, an” some do say'tliet she’s
a bigger devil nor be is, while ag’in thar’s others
who sw’ar ’at she’s 8. angel in pcttycoats. Now
you know what kind o'afellor we’ve got to

uck ag’inst.”

“ ‘hey lie about her. If she is so bad, why
did she warn us of danger?"

“Smitten with your good looks, ma be,”
sneered Taylor. “ Go in on your nerve, ates,
and win the head devil’s oorl-wiil through her.”
“Best spare your wit, om Taylor, until you
can find some more appropriate subject to jest
about. She is a lady, and you will please speak
of her as such, in my presence, at least," rather
hotly replied Frank.

“ Thar, boys. don’t git to pullin’ ha’r_ Tron.
ble a-plenty ’thout thet, I‘m goin’ to take a
scout around, to See ef thar’s any deviltry afoot
fer to-night. You tellers hed better stay here,
and see thet nobod don’t git inside. You kin

 

outside 0' his clarin’. How is it—shell we
varnish?” ‘

be flxin’ the pelts.

cap a good lookout, an’ e!

 

  

 
   
   

 

Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 
   

9

 

anybody comes, stop ’em at a decent distance.
Ontlerstand?”

“ Yes. But how about that bait for wolves?”

“VVe’ll let that drop for now. Thar‘s time
a-plenty for them when we’ve got nothin’ c’
more ’portance. you stay here ontil I git
back.”

“If you see that Mountain Kate, Tobe, give
her my compliments, and say that I intend
hunting her up, to see if she is the angel Frank
believes,” called out Taylor, as Castor left the
dug-out.

The trapper glided ra idly along the base of
the hill in which the ut was located, until
coming to a sort of valley, leading out to the
prairie beyond, he entered that, with the air of
a man who had some oint fully in view. As
he said, Tobe intend reconnoitering the old
cam occupied by Shensen in bygone years, to
see i the enemy were located there.

But this object was destined to be frustrated,
or, at least, postponed for the time being. Tobe
Castor abruptly paused, then glided to the left,
up a gradual slope.

Here he stooped and began carefully examin-
ing the surface of the snow. As the sun glint-
ed brightly across it, his keen eyes had noticed
several abraded places, where the tiny projec-
tions upon the crust had been crushed, as if be-
neath some considerable weight.

“It’s a man—a good sized one, at that. He
wore moccasins. Thar his foot slipped, an’ by
the way he caught hisself, he’s young an’ spry.
A old moose ’d ’a’ fell flat. But when was it
made? We didn’t none 0’ us three come this
way sence yest’day. Hal now Ihev got it!”
cried Castor, with exultation, as he glided still
further up the slope.

A scrubby bush stood there, bare and leafless.
Around its stem, the eddying wind had left a
circular hole, clear to the ground, a. few inches
in diameter, up the center of which grew the
stem.

The man that Tobe Castor was trailing, had
stood beside this bush, and one foot, restin
close to the hole where the crust was weaken ,
had broken through. This, the trapper knew,
would tell him whether the trail had been made
lately, or on the day before.

“ Thet settles it!” muttered Tobe, rising erect,
with a swift lance around him. “ It was did
’ithin a hate our, at furdest. ’Ca’se why: the
wind sets fa’rly toward it, freezin’ cold. Ef it
bed bin made a hour, the snow on the upper
slides ’d ’a’ bin friz stiff; now it’s still soft nn’

am .

“ bar’s the ar yment—what’s the answer?
Why, 'est this. T e teller what made it ain’t
fur o , jest now. Did Frank? No; he kem
down the river/an’ Tom an’ me, we kem up the
river. We hain’t none on us bin through here
sence yest’day. Then it was made by some one
else—made by a spy o’ the old man’s; mebbe the
one Mountain Kate told Frank about. He hain’t
kem back, or I’d ’a’ see’d him out in the o n.
Then he's up thar still. Up thar. a-watchin for
us to leave the place, I reckon. Hope he‘ll stay
ontil we do, consarn him; but I don’t uess he
will. ’Ca’se whyi—I’m goin’ to smoke ‘m out
o’ thar.”

Castor started back to the valley, merrily

 

whistling, as though perfectly unconcerned, for
he did not know but t at the spy was even then
observing him from his eyrie, and he wished to
disarm the suspicion his searching might have
aroused. Instead of striking out toward the old
camping-ground, as he at first had intended, the
trapper turned to the loft and quickly circled
around the hill above.

“ Ef he’s keepin’ watch 0‘ the dug-out, then
he can’t see me ontil l’m onto him. Here goes
to resk it, anyhow,” muttered Castor, as he
glided cautiously up the hillside.

Were his reasonings correct? Tobe expected
to find the spy in a comfortable niche, some few
yards below the bill’s crest, on the further side,
or that overlooking the river, as the only spot
from whence a view of the “ dug—out" could be
attained, combined with safety from discovery
by them below. And he speedily proved the
correctness of his surmises.

Tobe paused upon the crest, and then peered
cautious y over and downward toward the s t
where he expected to find his game. A pecu iar
glitter filled his eyes as he beheld the form of a
man seated behind a cedar bush, coolly smoking
a pipe, while closely watching the but below.

Castor saw that the spy was heavily armed,
and seemingly one well able to care for himself.
But bringing his long rifle forward, ready for
quick use, Tobe called out:

“ Bellow, thar~youl Ain‘t it ruther cold
settin’ on that snow?”

To say that the spy was surprised, would
scarcely do justice to his emotions, at this abru “t
summons, and he sprung to his feet with ln 1-
crous activity. As he glared around, he beheld
the grinning phiz of Castor peering at him over
the leveled rifle and a bitter curse broke from
his lips as he realized how completely he was en-
traplged.

“ on’t cuss—’tain’t perlite. Stop tharl Ef
you try thet, down ye go shure’s my name’s

obe Castor i” cried the trapper, sternly, as the
spy made a motion toward cocking his rifle.

‘ What do you want?” sullenly.

“ Want you, I reckon. Guess ou'd better
come up here, and then we’ll go own to that
shanty you seem so cur’ous about. Got rub
thar, an’ a good fire. Kin warm yourself. ust
be cold, ain’t ye?”

“ I have, no business with you. What right
have you to molest me? I am an honest hunter,
and these bills are free to all, I believe. Take
down that rifle—have you no more sense than to
be aiming at a fellow in that style?"

“ Git out! Honest nothin’l Clem Barodyne,
you cain’t play that on me. Ye fuller the same
old trade, see, thet ye did three year sence.
Come—this snow’s pesky wet, when a teller acts
on ittoo long. Come up here. We want you
down at the dug-out!” . -- - '

“ I’m not Clem~what’s-his-name, nor d I .
know what you mean. If I looked at your but
down there, what harm have -I done by that?"

“ Made all our heads ache, vou looked so dum-
ed shar . But look here, I’m gittm’ tired 0’
this foo ’n’. Better mind. Ef my finger shed
trimble, you’d never be 0’ no a’count to hold
water ag’in; thar'd be a hole bored plum through
ye. Come up here, I say!” impatiently cried
Tobe Castor.

  

 

  

 
 

r mistook. You—”

, ’ ssum? Show up your hand, an’ we’ll play

'- _;5;E1ib.¥:;‘}fii$~ifi'bm .p... . .

Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

“ Tell me first what it is you wish with me, or

on may shoot away. But mind, if you miss,
it’ll be your last shot.”

“ I ain’t one o’ the missin’ kind. But see here,
I know who you air an’ what you're up to.
Come up an’ le’s tal it over. Ef I meant
you hurt, wouldn‘t I ’a’ plugged you at the
fu’st start? Don’t be sech a durned fool. We
want to see ef we cain’t make tarms ’th the
old man to let us stay the season out. Come
up, an’ as long as you act decent you shain’t be
hurt. You know me, an’ know thet Tobe Castor
don’t never go back on his word.”

The spy hesitated no longer, but scrambled up
the bill, as if assured of no harm. Castor low-
ered his rifle, but kept a keen lookout for
treachery.

“You go down a lettle fu’st,” he dryl ob—
served, as the spy stood beside him. “ You Kain’t
promised nothin , an’ I hev.”

“You don’t' suspect that I would attempt to
hurt you, or take you unawares?” rather angrily
demanded the man.

“ Lord, Clem, don’t I know you’re too honest
to do sech a thing? But then it’s safest the way
I as . Go ahead.”

T 8 sp ’ sullenly com lied and Castor trod
close in is tracks, Wit a (1 upon his re-
volver-hilt. But if the man had really medi-
tated treachery, he thought better of it, and
trudged obediently along to the but, where
they were confronted by the two young trap-

rs.

26“A visitor, boys,” said Tobe, chuckling.
“ Got ‘wet, ye see, an’ wants to git dry by our
fire. Thar you air, Clem. Take a cheer—on
the ground. Frank. shot the door; put up the
bars, too. They’ll help keep out the cold. Feel
better. now, don’t ye, old feller?”

“I feel as though I was a prisoner,” growled
the spy, spitefully.

“ Shol now that’s queerl Cold’s strikin’ in, I
reckon. Better turn ’round an’ warm your
clo’es. Dretful oncomfortable, wet britches thet
way. What was you watchin’ us so cius fer,
anyhow?" added Tobe, in a quick, sharp tone.

“I wasn’t watching you." ‘

“Now, Clem Barodyne, you’re tellin’ a—thet
is, to speak perlitely, you’re mistook—ortully

"I tell you I’m not Clem Barodyne.”

“ Then .ou lie, do I? But that kin be easy

roved. 011 up your right sleeve. I give
Elem a cut in the £0 arm, onc’t, when he tried to
slip my wind. Show that it ain’t thar, an’ you
may 0 your way, an’ I’ll ax pardon for my
mista e ” quietly uttered Tobe.

A 5111 en growl was the only response. Cifitor
smiled.

“Thar now, what’s the use in tryin’ to play

e game out with faced keerds. The old man—
by which I mean Carl Shensen—sent you here
to‘watchnus?”

“ Good—so fur. Now keewight on—it’s easy
afar you onc’t git started, . hat does he mean
0

“ Rub you out, for being fool enough to come
back to his ounds, after being warned and

“ Yas, he did warn me, that’s a fac’, an’ ef I’d
’a’ knowed 0’ his comin’ ’bout here, it’s like I’d
’a’ chose another range, to save trouble. But
this is the fourth year sence he was in these
parts. I’d thought he’d left for good, an’ as
these bggs Wanted to spend the season trappin’,
I pick this as the easiest and least danger-
some.”

“You’ve made the mistake—you’ll have to
pay for it,” quietly replied Barodyne but'with
triumphant glitter in his snaky eyes.

“Mebbe not—I don’t think the old man’s
mem’ry is so short as thet ’mounts to. I saved
his life.” '

“And he squared that by) saving yours, the
time you gave me this cut. out count on that
to save you from his law.”

“ I don’t—intirely. But go on. You say he
means to rub us out—when?”

“I don’t know—and if I did, I wouldn’t tell
you. You know as much now as you will ever
get out of me.”

“Gittin' better ain’t ye? Britches ’most dry,
I reckon. Wal, don‘t know as there’s any use
in squeezin’ ye. I’ve 0t ’bout all I hev any
need fer. Reckon you’ better sta here ’th the
boys, while I go take a scout fer tie old man’s
headquarters. ’

“ Do you mean to keep me a prisoner here,
after what you promised?” hotly demanded
Barodyne, his hand clutcliin a revolver.

“ Easy, now—keep cool, C em. Knowed you’d
ketch cold—the fever’s got to our head a’ready.
You’re talkin’ flighty, like. he said anythin”
’bout pris’ners? Nobody. We don’t keep none
sech. A visitor—that’s what you be. A sort 0’
on’rary member 0‘ our society, ye know. Thet
pistil’s too heavy fer ye, ain’t it? Seems to
weigh ye all down to one side. Must be ornt
tiresome. Hadn’t ye better give it to me, to
rest ye? A good weepin-—but mine, here, 5 a
better one. Jest listen~hear that click 1’ Like
a watch-spring. Don’t hev to snap twic’t on a
cap. Ef it shed go oif now, it might hurt ye.
Frank, s’pose you go thar. Clem wants to give
you his pistil an’ knife.“

Tobe Castor uttered these words in a low,
drawlin tone, with a peculiar smile playing
around is thin lips. But there was a steely
glitter in his gray eyes that Barodyne knew
well how to inter ret.

He knew that t e whimsically-uttered request
was a command, to disobey which might be
dangerous. As Yates stepped forward, he re-
luctantly held the weapons forth.

Tobe Castor lowered his pistol with a grim
chuckle, that doubl angered the spy. With a
fierce curse he coc ed his revolver and fired at
Tobe. Sudden as was his action, Frank was
quick enough to foil the murderous attempt.

A sudden kick knocked the pistol from Baro-
dyne’s hand, and the bullet was buried in the
wooden roof. Then, with an angry cry, he
clutched the outlaw by the throat, hearing him
backward like a child.

“ Let up, Frank,” coolly uttered Tobe, “ don’t
make the imp a nigger—he’s gittin’ black in the
face a’ready. Thar—the durned Varmint is git-
Qin’ too keerless to be 'lowed to han’le weepins.
Roll him over, an’ I’ll fix his hands. Ye see it’s

 

toldthepenal, .”
FEE

fer his sake that I tie the imp. He mought hurt
. l / .

. I .

   
    
 
   
   
  
 
    
   
   
 
   
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
    
   
    
 
    
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
   
 
   
  
  
 

 
  

 
         
       
 
 

 
 

  
 

 
   

‘ Prank Yates, the Young Trapper. 9

 

hisself, when he comes to, an’ sees thet a baby
like you han’led him so easy. Thar, I reckon
he’ll do. Git up.”

Frank stepped back as Castor finished binding
his captive. Barodyne, who had been choked
almost to insensibi ity, quickly recovered, and
strove to arise, strugg iug violently.

“ Ha! you have bound inc! Tobe Castor, you
lied—you said I should not be injured!” he cried,
choking with rage.

“ No more you shain’t be. But when a feller
goes crazy, an’ tries to shoot his friend, he must
be tied up to keep him from hurtin’ folks.”

“What are you going to do wi'h me?” sul-
lenly demanded Bai‘odyne.

“ Cure ye up, an’ then turn ye lcosel But
fu’st, I’m goin’ to visit the old man. Got any
messirlge to send him i”

An indignant snarl was the only response, and
then Tobe, cautioning his comrades to keep good
guard, turned and left the dug-out.

Had he known what was to occur before he «

again returned to the hut, he would have thought
twice before setting forth upon the Venture.

 

CHAPTER III.
roan AND run OUTLAW CHIEF.

WHEN Tobe Castor had left the hut behind
him, his looks changed greatly. and an expres-
sion of deep anxiety settled down upon his
homely features. The mask he had worn while
with his young comrades was now dropped, and
it was plain that he regarded the situation as
one of actual peril.

Had he been alone, his course of action would
have been simple. He would have picked up his
tra s and moved on to another spot where he
can d trap in (peace, so far as the outlaw band
was concerne .

But now he was in doubt. The young men
had hired him for the season, and he felt bound
to consult their welfare before his own.

The cold weather was at hand—indeed, it had
already fairly set in—and he knew that neither
of them were toughened enou h to stand the
ex sure of an open season, an it would be a
di cult matter—almost impossible—to build
another “(lug-out,” after finding a suitable
place. Thus it came that he rr-s'olvec‘. to Seek an
interview With Shensen. and try to come to
some amicable agreement, thou h knowin full
well that he was incurring no s ight risk in the
venture.

Tobe felt confident as to the spot where he.
would find the outlaw band encamped, and as
the sun had already passed the meridian, he
strode on at a rapid gait up the river. For
several miles this was maintained, when he began
to display more caution.

Finally be scaled a steep hill, and from its top,
shielded behind a scrubby cedar, he gazed down
upon the object of his Search. A grunt of min-
g ed satisfaction and regret escaped his lips, as
he found that the encampment was indeed where
he had suspected.

It had the appearance of a rude Villa 6, rather
than a temporar encampment, and obs saw
that the outlaws intended to spend the winter
season there. '

.Upon a small, level plateau, thickly studded

 

with evergreens was the village. This plateau
formed the top 0 a bill that had the ap cc
of having been cut in two, its upper It then
cast to the winds.

This bill stood alone, entirel disconnected
from those surrounding it, an beyond rifle-
range from their crests, thus being a natural
fort, easy of defense.

At the rear ran a narrow canyon, thickly
strewn with bowlders. As one end of this was
hidden behind another bill, a. cunning scout
might gain the base of the table-hill, unseen b
those on top, and then, unless closely guard ,
could scale the bank and gain an entrance into
the village.

From his position Tobe could look down upon
this plateau, and had a fair view of the Village.
There were over a score of small but comfort-
able huts, near the center of which stood a
larger one, with a. sort of wing attached,
that he had no difficulty in divining were the
quarters of Carl Shensen and his daughter,
Mountain Kate.

There were few human forms to be seen,
though Tobe’s keen eye detected several station—
ed alon the $10 ing trail that led to the level
ground elow. his had been partly formed by
hand, so as to allow the swing u and down of
horses, 8. number of whic be con] see scattered
among the trees in a rude corral.

“ Now, the question is of I ain’t a dumed fool
to go in thar, when I know the resk so well I”
muttered Castor, as he slowly surveyed the
scene. “ It’s easy a—plenty to  in, but the
gittin’ out—that’s the thing] onder will I
come out on my own legs or on some other 1001’s!
It all ‘pends on the old man. Et he’s sober, then
I’ll be safe; ef not, then not. Anyhow, here
goes. Tobe Castor don’t break down arter onc’t
settin’ out fer a thing. Crawfish hain’t his line
——not much!”

The trapper descendedto the level ground, and
then str e fearlessly on, now in full view of the
guards on duty.

When within gunshot of the hill Castor

used, and removmg his cap, waved it over his

sad as he shouted:

“ Hellow, thar—~ ou fellersl”

There was no rep y, and one uninitiated would
have, supposed the hill deserted as not ' of
the lodges could be seen from the level. ut
Tobe was not to he baffled in that manner.

“ I say—hellow! Durn it all. be ye deaf? I
want to see the old man—Cap'n Shensen. You
know me-I’m Tobe Castor.”

“ What do e want, down thar, makin’ sech a
cussed heller r100?” growled a hoarse voice,
sounding from near the bill’s crest. »

“ Thunder! man, where air your ears? Hain’t .

I bin tellin’ you what I want fer the last half-
hour, more or less? I want to see the old an—
the boss—Cap’n Shensen. Now d’y’ earl”
vooiferated Tobe, in Well-simulated anger.

“Do you know the cap’ni” asked the same _

veice.

“Do I know—git out! S’pose I’d ax fer a
gentleman of I didn’t know him? Must be
green, you. Hain’t got your sleep out yit. hev
ye? In co’se I know him. Ef on don’t b’lieve
me, ‘ist ax him an’ see what he tell ye."

“%Vhat’s this, Corker!” demanded a stern

./ ,«

   
  
    
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
    
   
  
    
  
   
 
   
    
  
  
  
   
   
   
    

/

    
       
     
  

 

._ I ..

10 Frank Yates, the Young Trapper.

voice from behind the guard, who quickly
scrambled to his feet, in evident dread of the

speaker.
“ It’s a teller what said he know’d you, cap‘n.”
“Hal who the devil are you?” fiercely turning
toward where Tobe Castor stood, and the hand
of the speaker clutched a revolver-hilt threaten-

in l .

g‘ {Ton didn’t talk Ignite so f’erce, Cap’n Shen—
sen, the day you axe me who it was that shot
the ’Rapaho who hed ye down,” coolly retorted
the trapper, yet keenly eying the man before
him, in readiness for sudden action.

It was a striking face and figure—one that
would attract a second glance in almost any
assembly. In features, boldly handsome, the
tall, athletic figure, so perfectly proportioned,

’ well corresponded.

Carl Shensen was a man whose years number-
ed over half a century, though he bore them
well, his gray hairs being the brand of drink
and dissipation, rather than of natural decay.
The long hair and flowing heard of iron gray,
gave him an im Sing appearance, and when
free from the in nence of liquor, his face wore
a dignified, even noble expression. In his cups,
however, he was a devil incarnate.

He was clad in Indian—tanned and worked
buckskin; a slouched hat of soft gra felt rested
upon his head. His belt was thic 1y studded
with weapons, yet he wore them with the care-
less air of one well accustomed to their use.

/ “ You are Tobe Castor?” he uttered, in a
changed tone and yet it was not wholly cordial.

“Yes, I’m obe, though I s’posed you’d clean
forgot me, sence you’ve sent a man to warn me
oil? 0’ the grouu (ls—or, ruther, sent a spy to hunt
me out.”

“ What—how do you know that?” sternly de-
manded the outlaw chief.

“ How? Easy a-nough, ef you on’y think so.
Somebody ’d bin robbin’ our traps, an’ swoopin’
’round the ‘ dug-out.’ In course I sot out to
hunt him up. I found the feller—know’d him,
too—an’ jest ’vited him perlitely to call inside
the shanty. He did so, an’ I got it all out 0’
him. Hard work, though, fer he’s true as steel
to you, Cap. But I bed the deadwood on the
cues. Ye see, I ’membered him on account 0’
that little muss what we hed here onc’t. I
taxed him ’bout the scarred arm, an’ he couldn’t
deny it.”

“ You mean Clem Barodyne?”

‘6 Yes.”

“ Well. where is he now?” .

“At the dug-out, waitin’ ontel I come back.
I kinder thought it best I shed see you fu’st, afore
lettin’ him go, fer the cuss is hefty on the lies,
an’ thar’s no tellin’ what he wouldn’t say.”

“ What is it on want of me? If he told on
some, he must ve told you all. Why di n’t
you take warning, and leave without running
your head into a noose like this?”

“Is it a noose’ll Then you ain’t what I took
you for " uietly uttered Tobe.

“ An w at was that?”

“ A gentleman of honor,” was the cool reply.

Shensen flushed deeply, and then laughed; but
the laugh sounded constrained and unnatural.

“ I do not claim that distinction.‘ I am an
outlaw —robber——murderer; worSe, 1f1t can be.

I

 

But I am just what they made me-—-I was inno-
cent of all wrong until they drove me mad with
disgrace. Curse them—curse them, one and all 1”
hissed the outlaw his eyes flashing, his teeth
grating, while his features were distorted with
horrible anger.

“Yer see,” hastily added Tobe, not fancyin
the turn thus given to the conversation, “
thought I’d come an’ state the case cl’arly to you
an' see ef we couldn’t make some a’rangement.
You know I’m poor—hain’t got nothin’ ’cept
what I make by my traps. Two young fellers
hired me to come out here with ’em—I was to
hev all the pelts thet was cotchcd no ay, the
furnishin’ the outflt~au’ I chose this eat, as
knowed you hed not bin here for three seasons
past. Ef I’d thought you was comin’ back, I
Wouldn’t ’a’ kem here; but to pull stakes an’
travel now would sp‘ile the hull season, purty
nigh, bein’ as we’d hev to build a dug-out fer the
boys. Thar’s room here fer us both, an’ fur a—
glfenty. Then what’s the use 0' quarrehn’?

e’ll promus not to interfere ’th any 0’ your
’ran ements, at you let us alone. We won’t come
no urder up then we air now. How is it—a
bar ’in?”

“ 'o! it is not a bargain. Your are on my
land—bought from the lndians and paid for, and
you must leave. You remind me of a service—
even if I had not already repaid it by saving
your life, I do now. An other than you I would
have crushed at once. nstead, I let you go free
with whatever peltries you may have taken,
though every one belongs to me. Don’t ask any
more, or I ma regret granting even that much.
Better go, an follow my advice. I give you
two days. At the end of that time I send my
men to burn your dug—out. If you are still there
so much the worse for you. Do you under-
Stfiugfe” k l l t I st

‘ as; you spea p ain a—p en y, mu say.
But ’pears to me you’re takin’ a good deal fer
granted,” retorted Castor, his cheek flushin ,
and his lips twitching with anger. “ You ta k
like I was a nigger. D‘ y’ think I’m a squaw, to
be skeered by big words? Not much, I ain’t.
D’ y’ think I’d set still an’ let our men scorch
me? Nary time. Ef they tri it, our roll—call
would be a few names the shorter er it.”

“ You darwalk in this manner to me—here in
my own stronghold?” muttered Shensen, sur-
prise for the moment getting the better of his
anger.
“ I dare a good many things, sometimes, when
my band’s in,” retorted the intrepid trapper.

“ Do you know that your life is in my hands?
That by one word. I could have you torn limb
from limb, or tortured to death?”

“ Thet may be even so, but I reckon I’d hev time
to put in more’n one lick fu’st. I sca‘oely think
you’d say thet word. bein’ as I kem here on a
fri’ndly errand, but ef you did—”

“And if I did—what?”

“ Why, the band would hev a chance to vote
fer another chief, that’s all,” slowly uttered Cas—
tor, keenly eying the outlaw.

Shensen turned round, and there is little doubt
that a tragedy would have closely followed the
trapper’s blunt speech, had there not come an
interruption at this moment. It came in a
pleasing shape, and even as his young comrade

    
 

 

    

Prank Yates. the Young Trapper. 1 1

 

had done, earlier in the day, Tobe Castor stared
in mute admiration, forgettin his own ril.

“ Father,” softly uttered ountain ate, as
she glided between the two men, “ don’t forget
yourself. This man came here on an errand of
peace. Do not stain your honor by violating
that confidence.”

“ Go back to your room, Kate,” and the chief-
tain’s voice softened wonderfully. “I will not
forget, again. He is safe from me while here.
Go! now, and let me deal with him.”

‘ Very well. And you, sir,” turning to Cas-
tor, with a significant gesture unnoticed by
Shcnson, “would be wise did you bridle your
tongue, and speak with a little more discretion.”

“ Thankce, miss. You ma be right—you
must be, fer sech a han’some pictur’ couldn’t be
wrong. But us trappers hev got souls as well as
other folk, an’ ain’t used to bcin’ treated like we
wasn’t neither hafc white nor frceborn. The old
man r’iled me consid’able by talking like I was a
dog, un’ I lied to talk backorbu’st. But it’s
over now, an’ I’ll be more keerful,” respectfully
uttered Tobe.

“You look as though you didn’t remember
mc—and yet I should recognize you on where,”
half laughed Mountain'Kate, not disp eased at
this mute tribute to her charms.

“Ef it hcdn’t b’in fer what Frank told me
’hout you, I’d never ’spect you was the leetle gal
I used to see here. thet time. I thought he was
stretchin’ the fac’s, he Went on so; but he didn’t
tell hafe the truth.”

“ Frank—who? What do you mean, Tobe
Castor?” sus iciously demandet Shensen.

“Frank ates—one o’ the boys as is with me.
down yander.”

“What has he to do with my Kate? What
business has he to be praising her, and how did
he ever come to see her?” angrily.

“ Better ax yer (miter?

“Kate, what is this? Why did you not tell
me?” added Shensen, with evident suspicion.

“You were asleep when I came back. and I
forgot it afterward. A carca'ou sprung from a
tree on Snowdrirt’s back, an I was flung off.
Then the beast came at me. and the matter
might have ended unpleasantly, only for this
young man—a Mr. Yates. I believe Tobe said.

6 came up and changed places with me, killing
the brute. ' He wax surprised at finding a irl
there, and asking me, I told him my name. T at
is the whole circumstance,” terser replied Moun-
tain Kate.

Shensen seemed perplexed, and not altogether
at ease, but then, with a gesture, he bade his
daughter retire. As Kate glided away. he

V turned again toward Tobe and eyed him clomly.

“ Who is this Ya res—that is, what is he? A
professional trapper, like yourself?" '

“ No. He’s on’y tryin’ it this winter, fer fun.
as I told ye before.”

“Then he must be well off.”

“ So he is. His daddy’s a big-bug 0’ St. Louis,
an’ Frank hes a fortin in his own right besides.”

“ He is single?”

“ Sart’in—else for why would he be out here?”

“Tell me just what he said about my girl—tell
me all—every word l”

“ Why, he told us ’bout the scrimmage, an’
then said she must be your du’ter—Was rubber

 

goodv-lookiu’. That’s about all he said," new
tiously replied Castor, not liking the glisten of
Shensen‘s eyes.

“I believe you are holding something back:
but never mind, now. It I had not resolved
upon the couise to follow, before, this would de-
mde me. You must pack up and leave this place.
Were you alone, you might stay, in welcome,
for I have not forgotten the favor you once done
me. But I won’t have any more such romantic
adventures, filling the girl’s head with non-
sense.”

“ Thar wouldn’t be ’casion fcr any more 91! it
hedn’t ’a’ bin fer Frank,” coolly retorted
Castor.

“Never mind; of course I am grateful for
that, but I Won’t have him presuming on his
good luck. I have other views for, Kate. But
if he remained here, there would be the devil to

ay, if on] from contrariness. No, « ou must

cave, an that at once I” decisiver added
Shensen.

“You take a heap fer granted, ’pears to me.
How do you know Frank hes any sech idees?
He’s never see’d your gal but onc’t.”

“ That is enough—yes and too much. I tell
you. man, that I won’t risk it. I’ll give on one
week from this morning to leave this p co in.
If you are here then—”

“ Wal—go on!” coolly added Castor.

“If on are here then I’ll send my band after
you. on know their style of working, and can
guess the result.” .

“ I’ve heard tell of it. But you seem to think
the fun ’d be all on one side.” .

“ What! you don’t mean to say that you Will
resist—that you are fool enough to dare a strug-

le with my band?" cried the astonished out-

aw. ,

“ I don't say as we will, but sech things hes
hap ned. An’ ef so be we did tr it, be sure
we make things lively fer you. he dug-out
is fire-proof. You’d liev to walk right up an’
chop it down. Thor’s three 0’ us——we’ve ot
thirty-nine shots 'thout stoppin’ to load. on
kin count up the odds yourself—the hein’t so
big as they mought be, at they was bigger. But
never mind thet, as you say, ’tain’t like] ’at
we’ll ever hev to test it. Then you’ve ma e up
your mind to that?”

“Yes-one week. That is all. You can 0
or stay, just as you please. It matters little
me.” .

' “Jest so. An’ in thet week you'll let us alone?
You”won’t let no man rob our traps an‘ sech
like?

“ No, I’ll give them their orders, and if any of
them bother you, re ‘ort them to me and they
shall be punished. o—but remember. If you
overstay the time, I u ould not give one pinch of
dust for your lease of life.”

“You said that afore, nn’ I hadn’t forgot it
yit. Good-by. I’ll send Clem Barodyne back
sonn’s I it to the dugout.”

Tobe astor descended the hill and hastened
back toward the hut, the careless lookgone
from his face, and a puzzled expression in its
stead. The interview had ended much as he
had anticipated. '

He had traverSed nearly half the distance,
when he tancied he saw t 9 figure of a man

  

 
 

 

Frank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

dodging along the base of the hill to his right,
though in the fast deepening shadows he could
not be certain. His doubts, however, were
speedily terminated, though in a far from agree-
able manner.

From the suspected oint there shot out a
brlght flash, and mingle with the sharp report
of a rifle, he could hear the vicious whistling of
a ragged bullet hissino' so close above his head
that his cap was knoc ed to the ground.

Tobe, though undeniably brave, was not yet
utterly devoid of prudence, and not knowmg
but that the enemy were in force, be dropped
down and glided behind a small patch of plum
brush, preparing his firearms for defense. But
as minute after minute rolled by without fur-
ther sign of the enemy, he concluded there had
been but one, who had fled on seeing his failure.
Acting upon this sup osition, Tobe Castor arose
and dashed toward 1: a spot from whence had
been sped the treacherous shot. No living being
met his vision.

“ Burn the luckl Ef I’d on’y ’a‘ knowed it!”
muttered the trapper. as he arose from the
3 low, baffled in his effort to read the sign, by
the fast-d ing light. “ Wal, he owes me a
shot, an‘ may git even with the cuss yit.
Reckon ’twas one 0‘ them imps o’ the old man,
out on a scout. A in 'un wonldn‘t’e.’ bin alone,”

Reasoning thus, obe Castor resumed his
way, with increased haste, knowing that his
friends would be anxious at his protracted
absence. But before he had gone another mile
he came out face to face with both Taylor an
Yates, who seemed not a little gratified at the
meeting. .

From first to last, that day seemed made up
of surprise, coming rapidly, one after another.
The greatest one—or rather, the one that caused
Tobe the greatest surprise—was speedily re-
vealed.

“ What on airth be you tellers doin’ out here?”
he cried when fully convinced of their identity.
“ Didn’t you know better‘n to leave that cussed
Clem Barodyne thar at the dug-out alone?”

“ We dilu’t leave him there,” shortly return-
ed Tom.‘ “ He esca d—got free, somehow."

“An’ you two fe lers watchin’ him, with the
door barred? Oh, git outE whar’s the use 0’ sech
durned foolishness? Don‘t I know better?”im-
patiently uttered the trapper.

“It’s true, Castor,” put in Frank, “though
we wasn’t there at the time. An hour or so
after you left, a herd of black-tail came down to
the river below the dugout, and began crossing.
1 ran out and shot one, gifting it so that it
could barely keep afloat wi the current. I fol-
lowed down the bank, knowing it would catch
on the driftwood at the shoal. It did, and when
I had cut it up, I went back to the shanty to
find the door open and both Taylor and the spy

one.

“ I suppose I’m the one most to blame,” said
Taylor, in answer to Castor’s glance of inquiry,
“ but I hadn’t the slightest idea of his escaping.
Frank had so badly frightened the deer that two
of them turned back after he passed, and ran up
past the but. I fired. but must have missed,
though I thought then he was hard hit. 801
ran after them, with Turk, and before I knew it
1 W68 out of sight of the house. I IOSt the one

 

I was after, and sighting another, I tried to
stalk it, so as to have something to show for
my trouble. But I didn’t succeed, and when I
got back, the fellow had made off, somehow.”

“ How in thunder could he git cntied, ’thout
help? I tied them strings, an’ l’m keen to sw’ar
thet he never slipped them off. Somebody must
’a’ helped the cuss,” doggedly muttered Tobe.
W'as ou follerin’ him when I met you?”

“ o—that is, we heard a shot out here and
as he took his weapons, we feared he had met
you unawarcs. So we ran out to see.”

“ It must ’a’ bin him, then. The varmint
meant well, but he overshot. Putt 8. air-hole
throu h my cap ’stead 0’ my head, as he ’tended.
Wal, don’t know as it matters much anyhow.
I wanted he should hear a little 0‘ our talk,
though, afore he went back, to sorter putt the
old man on a false trail. I wouldn‘t keer, on‘ '
I’d like to know how it happened—I would so. “

“Some of his friends must have been around
when you captured him, and then watched their
chance to set him free,” suggested Taylor.

“By the way, What luck did you have with
the old man, as you call him—Shenseni"

“ Thnr‘s the shanty—wait ontel We’re gittin’
some grub. Then we‘ll talk it over.”

After the meal was finished, Castor related
the substance of his interview with the outlaw
chief, and then left the matter to the decision of
his comrades.

“ I say let’s stick it out, in its of the 01:1.
fool,” said Taylor, energetical y. “ I believe
that it’s half idle boasting, and if we only
show a bold front, he won‘t dare to molest us.
If he ,should, we three can hold our own in here
against twice his force. I say stay, and, if
must be, fight the devils.”

“ I’m wifiing to risk it, if Tobe thinks there’s
a chance for us,” quietl uttered Frank.

“ Wal, we’ll think it over. Thor's a week
ahead 0’ us yit an‘ who knows, somethin’ may
turn up to decide for us.”

And so the matter rested for that night.

 

CHAPTER IV.
Lovn’s vacuums.

THAT night the dreams of Frank Yates were
ludicrously complicated, artakin of both the
ridiculous and athetic. t is harfily necessar
to add that ountain Kate occupiedapronu-
nent position in the fantastic vision.

Toward morning one of those sudden changes
in the atmos here, for which the West is
famous, took p ace, and the snow-crust quickly
softened. At daybreak the feathery particles
were falling fast and furiously, threatening a
severe snow-storm.

Though this was nothing more than might
natural y have been eyed/ed, at that season.
the circumstance seem to give Tobe Castor
considerable uneasiness.

“Must hurry up, boys, an‘ go look at your
traps. There’s no tellm’ how ong this pesky
storm’ll last, an‘ we may be snowed in afore
night. El ye see any game wu’th the powder,
knock it over, an‘ fotch it back.”

“Why, you don’t think there’s anything
wrog‘fi, do you, Tobe?”

“ ar’s no tellin’. Ef this keeps on, as it

    
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
    
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
    
   
   
   
    
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
   

P}

        
       
      

 

Prank Yates, the Young Trapper. 13

 

looks like, we may be snowed in—I hm: know’d
it to last a week—1111’ cf we’re short o’grub.
then we‘re played. It’s ruther airly in the sea—
son, though, fer such, un’ it may cl’ar up afore
an harm’s did; but then it’s best to be on the
sa 0 side," evasively replied Castor.

It was difficult walking, as the crust had
melted so that his feet sunk through to the
ground, the snow now reaching above his knees.
But Frank com leted his rounds, meeting with
fair success, fin ‘ug three beaver and one otter
in his tra 5.

After aving reset his traps, changing some
of them to new “ slides,” and skinned his game,
Frank strapped them to his back. While thus
occupied, the sky had brightened, and the snow
now come down in less rofusion. The storm
was nearly at an end, an Castor’s fears proved
without foundation.

Despite himself. Frank felt a little abashed as
he struck up the river, toward the valley in
which he had met Mountain Kate, though he
stoutly declared that be believed it to be the
most likely spot around for furnishing game.
This apology, though mental, showed conclu—
sively where his thoughts were.

Frank laughed faintly as he caught himself
peering eager y forward, when nearing the spot
where the struggle had taken place. And yet
he crouched down beneath the tree, waiting—
for what, he scarcely dared think—until thor-
oughly chilled through.

Then, with a gloomy, visb feelin , he arose
and went back to the ug-out. An the next
day the pro ramme was the same, though as the
storm had c eared it was piercingly cold, and
his vigil was kept by hastily striding to and fro
over the thickening crust.

Durin this time, the subject of their removal
was litte spoken of. Nothing had been fully
decided u n, as yet, though the time of grace
was rapi y rolling by.

The third day, as usual, found Frank at his
post beneath the scruhby oak-tree. but now he
no longer sought to cloak his real hopes. He
could no longer deceive his own mind and he
knew that this strange maiden—this daughter
of a criminal—was becoming very dear to his
heart.

The trapper’s reverie was broken by the sound
of hoof-strokes, and with the caution learned
from Castor, Frank sprung back into the
thicket, crouching low down, yet in a. spot
whence he could command a fair view of the
valley. while being comparatively well screened
himself.

The strokes sounded closer, and were now
coming directly up the valley. Then, through
the brush, Frank caught a glimpse of somethin
scarlet; the next moment his heart gave a wild
bound, as he clearly recognized Mountain Kate,
the one of whom he had been so busily thinking.

She dashed directly up to the oak-tree, and

ausinz, raised upright in the saddle. But- then
her uplifted arm fel , and a little exclamation.
as of disappointment. broke from her lips, and

‘ her face flushed scarlet.

Frank felt pretty much. then. as we suppose
one would the morning after “ a jolly time with
the boys.” only his sensations were those of joy,
not disgust. His brain reeled, and his eyes

 

dimmed from the rush of blood, as he realized
the pleasant truth.

Mountain Kate had not forgotten his last
words, but had come to look for the note, and
not findin it, was evidently not a little disap—
pointed. hat proved she had not forgotten
him, as Frank had feared.

As soon as Yates could control his feelings. be
arose and step ,d forth from his covert. The
maiden starte and jerked her horse back at this
sudden appearance, and half drew a pistol be—
fore sho recognized the young trapper.

“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Kate,” hastily ut-
tered Frank. “It is a. friend.”

“ So I sec—but ou have a most uncomforta-
ble mode of ma 'ing your appearance: You
fairly frightened my poor bnowdrift,” and
Mountain Kate bent her head low down, pat-
tin the mustang’s neck as though extremely
solicitous on its account.

“ I heard hoof-strokes, and not knowing but it
was an enemy, I dodged in there,” explained
Yates.

"Then you were—you saw me look for the
note?” _

“Yes, and I was (lo—that 15, pleased, to notice
our surprise at not finding one,” stammered
rank, quailing before the bright eyes.

“ Ah! that—see how I hurt my poor wrist on
the rough bark. It made me cry out; did you
notice it?” innocently returned Kate.

“Was that it?” and Frank’s face fell. “I
thou bt—that is—” ‘ ,

“ ell, you thought—what?” mischievously
asked Kate settling herself more comfortably
upon the saddle.

“I thought—well. there! It’s no use trying
to hide anything—I only make a miserable
botch of it. I thought you came here expectin
anote, and that you were disappointed in no
getting one,” desperame uttered Yates. ‘

Kate’s brows lifted as though in su rise.

“ Of course I felt disappointed, .cause I
would then have to take this ride over again, or
else break my word."

“ And that was all? I had hoped it was some-
thin else.”

“ do not understand you,” and Kate played '

with Snowdrift’s silken mane.

“You don’t wish to, rather. But since I‘ve
gone so far, I’ll tell you all. I was in hopes—a
fool for my pains, ou may think—that you in
some degree share
nature you may guess, when I say that for
hours each day since we made that agreement, I
have waited here in hopes of meeting on. I’ve
thought of you so often, and foun so much
pleasure in remembering your promise, that I
dared hope you would give it an occasional
thought, too. Now are you angry at my plain
speaking?”

“No—not ang'rly. Why should I be?” and
Mountain Kate g anc
trapper’s earnest face.

“ I didn’t know—it must seem very foolish to
you. But the thought has been very pleasant
to me—more so than I would dare tell you.”

“ And these thoughts kept you from suffering

with the cold, while waiting and watching for ,

the one who never came?”
“ You laugh; but since you are not cfl'erded,

my own feelings. Their»

ed quickly at the young,

 
 

  
  

  
   

    

14 Prank Yates, the Young Trapper,

'3‘ A- *1'tnv.‘ . .

“1
:

 

.5.» .~ hue v - V

 

 

I can bear that. I often wonder at myself, but
since that day I have thought of little else than
what you told me—I mean about your strange
life. I thought I was of too purely selfish a
nature to feel another’s troubles so deeply.”

“ I don’t think ou’rc that. Your hire is not a
selfish one,” said ate simply, as Frank paused.
“But I’m sorry that what I said caused you
troubled thoughts.”

“ It did, and et it gave me a peculiar
pleasure, too. here, ” and Frank laughed,
though in a constrained manner. “ You can
guess how confused have been my thoughts.

t’s all contradiction. I don’t know what’s come
over me.”

“ Tell me what were your thoughts about
me—I mean your real thoughts, not idle compli-
merits.”

“ You are not one to be complimented. The

truth may sound like one, but, still it’s the truth.
Well, partly, I wondered that you, leading the
life you say for so long, should have grown up
to be what you are. Under such tuition, one
would naturall look for a coarse, unwomanly,
uncultivated, ig’ not positively evil mind. In
deed you are the very opposite of all this.”
“ éood, so far. Go on; I am very highly en-
tertained,” laughed Kate, but with a slight quiv—
ering of the 1i 5 that told she V: as far from being
so nonchalan , in reality.

“ I thought, too, bow distasteful all this must
be to you, and wished there was some way by
which it might be changed. You were created
for a better and pleasanter life than the one you
are now leadin . Then, you would not only be
happier yourse f, but make others happy, and be
both loved and respected.”

“No! You are amusing yourself at my ex-
pense!” angrily cried Kate her eyes flashing.
“ I-the daughter of an out aw—a murderer—a
man for whose head a reward is offered—I, loved
and respected? Nol Every finger would be
pointed at me in scorn— eople Would ass by on
the other side, with wor s and looks o loathing.
No, sir; hard and disagreeable as this life may
be, it is still free. Here in the wild mountains,
or upon the wide, lonely rairies, I can live and
sometimes forget what a lot I am upon Nature‘s
face; but there, my life would be crushed out of
me by the bitter scorn and contempt that, of
m self, I have done nothing to deserve.”

ountain Kate's anger suddenly died out,
and she sat her horse ale and agitated, her
eyes dimmed and her 1ps quivering. Frank
felt an almost uncontrollable longing to comfort
her—to clasp her to his breast; but then u glim-
mer of reason returned, and be restrained his
feelings. ,

" It is not so bad as you imagine. You
could get alplace where the past would never
be known. know of one—hut you will not be
angry?”

‘ No. You mean well, though you talk of
what can never be.”

“ I alluded to my own family. It is not so
large now but there is room for another. You
would be very welcome there.”

K“ Tell me more about them,” quietly uttered

ate.
“ Besides father and mother, there is only my

sister Flora left. She is about your age, and .

 

much like you in form and face, though not so
beautiful. She is not strong, and I sometimes
fear she will be taken from us, as brother Char-
ley was. She would love you, I know; she is so
gentle, so good," quietly said Frank, his voice
lowering.

“ And you would see me—I, Mountain Kate,
Carl Shensen’s daughter—cuter there in your
happy home?”

“ It" you would go. Kate, listen to me. Would
you do this if you had the right to go?”

Kate started and looked at him steadily, her
great lustrous eyes glowing. Frank met her
gaze firmly.

“ I do not understand you.
uttered the maiden.

“ I will, though you may think me demented.
I mean. will you go there as my wife?” earnestly
added Frank.

“Ha! ha! A ludicrous ending to a dolorous
theme!” laughed Kate, but there was an un-
natural rin to her voice, that told she was
not so great y amused as her words would fain
indicate.

“You refuse, then?"

“ Yes—are you not delighted?”

“ I might be, if I could really believe you saw
such a jest in my words. But you only laugh
with your lips. I told you once that I was a
plain, blunt-spoken man. I can jest at times,

ut not in such a case as this. I am in deep
earnest, now, and repeat what I said. I love
you—will you be my wife?”

“ And I repeat—no.”

“ Why not?"

“ For a thousand reasons; one of which is that
you don't love me in that way, if at all. You
have let your sympathy outrun your judgment.
In pit ing my life, you fanc you love me.
Then Iydon’t love you, though like you, I ad-
mit. You have spoken kindly to me, and seem
to respect me. I shall ever remember it, and
shall always like and respect you for it. You
will believe this, though you See we can neverbe
anythingto each other more than friends?"

“ Yes—since you so it. But you do not un-
derstand my heart as do myself. I told you I
love you; so I do. True, we have not been long
acquainted—but what of that? Does it need a.
lifetime for one to learn how to love? Must one
go through a regular routine before he can know
his feelings? I don’t think so. I believe that love
can slpriug into existence at once, from a word,
a 100 , in a breath of time, and be no less pure
and steadfast than that of a year’s owth. I
did not hope t at you loved, and for t at reason
I hesitated. But what could I do? Leave the
place without Speaking? That is not my nature.

f I had been given tune—were matters situated
other than as they are, I would have bided my
time and sought to win our love. But I could
not 0 away without tel 'ng you this.”

“ t would have been better iflggu had done so,
perhaps—better for both,”said Le, a far-away

00k in her eyes.

“It may be, but I cannot think so. I do not
ask you to love me all at once. That Will come
with time. I will teach you to love me, as I
would have on. I can—I. now it. All I ask
is time and t e opportunity. You shall never
have cause to regret it. You will be freed from

Speak plainer,”

\

Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

18

 

this life; you will have a comfortable home,

with one to care for you whose love will keep

you from all trouble. All I ask is that on will

Eomise to try and love me,” earnest y added
ank, his face glowing with ardor.

“ No; I cannot leave my father. I am the
only one that can control him in any thing. I
could never forgive myself if I left him alone.”

“ You need not; I have enough for us all. ”

“ Do you mean this? You would ask him to
share this home, after what you must have heard
about him?”

“ For your sake, Kate, I would do more than
that. If he will consent, he will be welcome."

“ No, that would be too much. Under such
heavy burdens your love would soon change to
regret for your folly. No, once for all, it cannot
be. I am grateful —very grateful, but it can
never come to pass.”

“ You will allow me to see your father about
it? He may see the matter in a clearer light
than on do,” suggested Yates.

“ o——~nol He would be so angry, he would
kill you at the hint! Promise me you will not,
for my sake, if not for your own,” cried Kate,
agitatedly.

“ Very well. Then I am to consider my hopes
entirely in vain? You will not even give me a
hope that (you may chan e?”

“ I coul not, ‘ustly. t the matter die out:
it is better so. ut, though I cannot acce t, 1
shall ever remember your friendly offer, an the
one who was so onerous and kind to me.”

“Thank you, to. Though we part now, I
have faith that we will meet again, and when
we do, I will ask you the same question. It may
he a year, or it may be two; but if we both live,
I believe that I will yet succeed in making you
love me."

“ You are sanguine,” said Kate, with a faint
smile. “But time will tell. Now, seeing that
the grave and important matters are settled,
suppose we talk of what brought me here. Have
you decided yet when you are to leave this
place?” she added, assuming her natural de-
meanor, though with visible effort.

“No,’as I told you, my mind has been filled
with other thoughts. I don’t really know
whether we will go or stay.”

“ You surely will not stay—it would be cer-
tain deat .”

“ Perhaps not. We could make a stout fight
inour ‘dug-out.’ However, it is as my com-
rades decide.”

“ Persuade them to go. You are the first
man that I have seen, whom I could really re-
spect. I would not have your blood upon my
father’s head, nor would have you harm him.
Believe me, I advise this for your own good.”

“ I will think it over and tell you to-morrow
at this place and at the same hour—if you will
meet me. You will come?”

“ Yes. But first can on trust that comrade
of yours—I mean the dar one?”

‘ Taylor? Trust him?—wh , what put that
doubt into your mind?” cried ank, astonished.

“ I may be wrong, but I do not like his looks.
He is one who would be a traitor to his own
brother, if sufficient reward was offered. But
there is more.‘ Do you know how Clem Barc-
dyne got free from your but?”

:

 

“ No—do you?”

“I suspect. I heard him laughing over it
with father, and am almost sure he mentioned
Taylor’s name. Then twice since I have seen
him talk‘ with Barodyue—only to-day as I rode
here. I saw them together. I true to you. he
should be an enemy to Barodyne.
to watch him.”

“ It is strangel Though I knew he was rather
loose-princi led in some things, I thought him
honest. but can be hope to gain by plottin
against me? I can think of nothing,’ add
Frank, thoughtfully.

“Well, 1 have warned you. And now I must
go, else father may be anxious. To-morrow,
then, at noon?”

“ Yes—I shall be waiting.”

Frank pressed his lips to the small hand ex-
tended, and then with a gay smile Mountain
Kate rode away. Neither beheld the dark figure
stealthily gliding back from the thicket, and
when Frank turned to depart, the eavesdropper
disappeared around the corner of the hill.

CHAPTER V.
H U N 'r E D n o W N .

FRANK YATES walked slowly back toward
the “ dug-out,” his brain teeming with busy
thoughts, not alone concerning his rejection—
for in that direction he still entertained hopes.

But her words relative to Frank Taylor gave
him no little uneasiness. There was reason in
them, or at least circumstances seemed to justify
a suspicion.

Frank had made the acquaintance of Taylor
after leaving town. while steamin u the river.
It seemed a mutual attraction, an w en Taylor
said he was rambling for pleasure alone, the two
had joined hands, and from that had come this
venture, they falling in with Tobe Castor at St.
Joseph, where he was selectin his outfit.

Yates knew that his comra e drank, gambled
and was rather reckless in some respects, but
until now this had given him no uneasiness.
glow,d however, he began to doubt his new-found

rien . \

To his surprise, Frank found Taylor at the
dug—out, though Castor was gone. As he gazed
keenly upon tum, something told Frank to bide
his time, and say nothing concerning what he
had heard, until after a consultation with Tobe.

“ Here at last—I be an to think you were out
for all day ” awned aylor, as Frank entered.
“Feel any h g like taking a tramp?”

“ What for?”

“Tobe said we’d better be looking up some
game, as our stock was getting low. He‘s out
now. and I said I’d wait or you.” .

“ How long have you been waiting for me?”
suddenly asked Yates.

“A couple of hours, I guess. Why?”

“ Oh, nothing,” and Bank felt relieved.

If Tom had been waiting that long, then Kate
must have mistaken another for him, talking to
Clem Barodyne. .

Frank changed his wet buffalo-skin moccasins
for a dry pair, and then the two men set forth.
For a time they kept together, but then separ-
ated. as by a wider range their object was more
likely to be accomplished.

Frank was a good shot, and by closely heeding

as

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16

Prank Yates. the Young- Trapper.

 

Castor’s instructions had already become quite
a skillful hunter, and in a couple of hours’ time,
he had bag ed two fine, fat deer. The first of
these be her? guarded from the wolves by attach-
ing a rag to an upright stick, so it would flap in
the wind.

The second he quickly butchered, wrapping
the hind—quarters and saddle up in the hide, and
then slung them over his shoulders. It was get-
tino‘ late, and he knew that before he could get
baa: to the dugout, it would be night, as the
hunt had led him several miles away.

“What in thunder has got into the wolves, to-
day, I wonder?” muttere Yates, as he left the
spot. “ I never knew them to act so before. It
can’t be that the brutes mean to attack me!”

There seemed sufficient reason for this surprise
in the actions of several gaunt monsters that he
had noticed for some time, though they had thus
far kept at long rifle-range. They seemed to be
trailing him—to follow his windings, whichever
way he turned.

hat still further increased the young trap-

er’s wonder, was that among them be con d
Sistinguish more than one coyote—those slink-
ing. cowardly brutes; but now they evinced far
more boldness than be deemed them capable of
showing. With them, he also saw the large

ay “ mountain-wolf,” that, when pressed by

unger, is reall a formidable antagonist.

Occasionally is grizzly followers would pause
and utter a long-drawn bowl, and as the young
trapper heard it answered back from more than
one direction, he instinctively quickened his
pace, and, though he strove to cast it off, a feel-
ing of uneasiness gained upon him.

‘ Bah! you’re a fool, Frank Yates,” he mut-
tered in self-disgust. “They only smell the
blood. An army of them would not attack a
man at this time 0’ year. Game istoo plenty for
that, yet.”

But still he cast more than one doubting glance

' behind him, and then carefully inspected his pis-
tols. As the shadows grew deeper, he hastened
on, while the wolf-howls still came from behind
him, at shorter intervals, mingled with the yelp-
in bark of the coyotes.

The sun had some time sat, and the new moon
was up. The cloudless sky was thicl‘y studded
with stars, and their bright light over the snow-
covered ound rendered objects in the open, al-
most as istinct as at noonday.

In this fact Frank saw a safeguard. Strangely
emboldened as the wolves seemed, the clear light
might frighten them from the attack gloom
would invite.

5“ Only that they‘d laugh at me for being such
a coward, I'd drop this bait. But I’d never hear
the'last of it, if I did, though. Tobe would rake
me most unmercifully. No-‘if they want it,
they gust fight for it,” muttered Yates, deter-

ne .

lose); they came, snarling and snap ing
vicioust at each other, their long fangs gli 1--
ing in the clear. light, howling, yelping and,
barking} in hideous chorus. And the oungj
trapper was yet fully three miles from she ter.

‘ The prairie was level and bare. Not a tree—

scarce a shrub waist high—was in sight, unless
upon the far-away hills. The glistening snow-
crust was unbroken by any hollow or gully.

 

_And Yet the trapper did not fully appreciate
hlS peri . Instead of fear, the continuous uproar
behind him roused his anger.

“ Curse the brutes!” gritted Yates, as he
dropped the meat and unslung his rifle. “ I’ll
silence one throat, at all risks!”

As he spoke the rifle cracked, and the fore-
most, a huge, gaunt monster, fell in a heap with
a yelp of pain. But scarcely had he fired the
shot, than Frank regretted his precipitancy.

Instead of cowing them, as he thought would
be the case, the death-shot roused them to fury.
And then, for the first time, be fairly realized
his imminent eril.

With fiendis , snarling yells, the brutes sprung
in a body upon their (lying brother, and there
seemed a solid mass of writhing life, from which
a terrible din arose. As if a signal for others,
the prairie seemed alive with their yelps, and
the snow surface became spotted as their dusky
forms sped toward the carnival.

But all could not get at the one wolf, and as
Frank loaded his rifle. he saw several more
crouching upon their bellies, crawling toward
him, their white fangs glistening. their eyes
glowing like fireballs. As he half-stooped to
pick up the meat, they sprung toward him.

With a. loud yell Yates rose erect and flung up
his hands. But the grizzly demons did not take
to flight. Instead, they only paused, uttering
their dismal howls.

Frank no longer gave thought to his game,
but bitterly cursed is folly in not abandoning
it while there was yet time. He knew now that
his life was in great peril; that a race for life or
a desperate struggle was inevitable.

And what could his single arm avail against
this host—for hOst it was rapidly becoming, as
new arrivals momentarily domed their brethren.
Desperate, he slung his ri 9 over his shoulder
and drew a revolver in either hand.

Upon those twelve shots rested his life. Al-
ready the wolves counted thrice that number,
but perhaps he could beat them off until reach-
ing the (lug-out, or until his friends should come
to his rescue.

These thoughts flashed through his mind, even
as the wolves sprung forward with their snarl-
ing cries, joine now by those who had so deftly

icked the bones of the one who had so lately

een their leader. At their second leap, the
trapper fired one shot.

A victim fell—out of that crowded mass, a
different result could not well be, and a wound
answered as well as a death-blow. And as be-
lgore, the unhurt sprung upon the helpless in a

ody.

Frank turned and fled at to peed. It was
by tactics like this that he he to escape.

For that reason he had only fired one shot.

As before, there were some crowded away
from the cannibal feast. As before, they uttered
their yelping howls, and sprung after the fleeing
trap r. And thus Frank’s flight continued,
unti his first pistol was empty! But still the
wolves followed him closely.

Frank raised his voice and shouted, screamed
and booted until it seemed as though his lungs
must burst, while his second pistol added its
mite to the frightful din. At this the wolves
hesitated—at t e second shot they pausedh

on u._ i‘./...:.

WAC'V .

Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

1‘2”

 

thou ‘h still sending up their lugubrious howls,
now more terrible, more deadly in its intensity.

But as Frank quickly glanced around, his
heart chilled. He believed that he was doomed.
There was no further retreat.

Before, behind, upon either side of him, were
the crouching forms, the fiery eyes and the
clashing fangs. A circle of death he stood in
the center, despairing and heart-sick.

Then a sudden change came over Frank. His
pale check flushed, his eyes glowed and his
breath came hot and fast.

He knew that to remain still would be e uiva-
lent to death—he felt that he was doome but
with that thought came a fierce, uncontrollable
desire for vengeance. He no longer feared the
wolves—that point had past.

A quick wrench broke the strap that confined
the rifle to his shoulders. Then with it in one
hand, he sprung forward upon those nearest
him, with a hoarse, unnatural howl.

Quickly emptying the remaining chambers of
his second pistol, he flung the useless weapon
fiercely into the shrinking flock. Uttering
hoarse, angry cries, the maddened trapper
clubbed his rifle and rushed to close uarters.

Those in front shrunk back, those hind him
skulked close. Round and round turned Frank,
dealing blows here and there. sometimes with
fatal effect, but oftener avoided by the nimble
brutes.

Then one sprung upon him from behind, and
the shock caused Yates to stagger to his knees.
At this the entire pack seem emboldened, and
swarmed forward rending the air with their
horrible snarls and bowls.

But the trapper was not yet conquered, though
the shock bad hurled the rifle from his grasp.
Though the wolf still clung to his shoulder,
Frank drew his knife and with one fierce slash,
freed himself from the monster.

But then the others closed in upon him. The
blood-stained knife swe 1: here and there, up and
down, to the right and eft, wielded by a strong
arm, nerved bV desperation.

Then, high above the. furious din, came a new
sound—or rather combination of sounds. The
wolves shrunk back in momentary afl’right, and
Yates, his clothing torn into shreds and his skin
stained with blood. Sprung to his feet.

The deep, angry buy; the huge, muscular form
that sprung into the midst of the Crowded ani-
mals; the sharp report—the hoarse voice of a
white man, all told Frank that assistance had
come, and with one exultant cheer, he leaped
forward, mad, half crazed, and as one huge mon-
ster sprung at his throat, it was crushed to the
frozen snow with a giant grip and literally dis<
embowled. .

“ At ’em, Frank! Stan’ up, Frank, an’ you’re
all right!” yelled Tobe Castor as he came bound-
ing forward, and then his quick repeating shots
drove back the wolves in dismay.

“Just in time, Tobe.” gasped Yates.
down and ’most gone!” _

“Never mind now—pick no your weepins an’
be loadin’ ’em, while I keep the varmmts back.
Quit-k! we may need ’em yiti” cried caster, as
with clubbed rifle be rushed before his young
comrade. “Tom—whar in blazes be ye?” h

addcd, angrily. “

“I was

 

The next moment Taylor came up limpin , end-
then his weapons completed the repulse. ith
lugubrious howls, the wolves turned and fled,
Saving the ground covered with their dead and

ymg.
‘ Come—load up in a hurry. We must be goin’.
Them im s ’11 gather again, though whats got
into ’cm, cuin’t see. Anyhow, the quicker we
git back to the dug-out, the better.” ,

“ I don’t think—I’m tired out—I can’t—” felt--
ered Frank, as he staggered and would have
fallen to the ground, had not Castor caught him.

“ You’re hurt—say you ain’t hurt, Frank, lad?"
anxiously cried the trapper. ,

“No—I don’t think so. I’m tired—so tired!”
muttered the young man, as he grows. dead
weight upon Castor’s arm.

“ Come, Taylor, ketch hold 0’ his t’other arm,
thar, an' help me. We mustn’t sto here—jesti
lis’en to them yelpin’sl Thar—now eep step.”

In this manner they progressed with tolerablé‘
speed, and before the dug—out was reached,.
Frank’s consciousness returned. He had par-'~
tially swooned, from over exertion of both body"
and mind. ‘

Though the air was rent with their discordant
yolps and howlmgs, as the wolves seemed gather-
ing in force, the trappers were not molested,
though, perhaps, ’twas fortunate their quarters
were no further away. Even Tobe Castor gave
vent to a sigh of relief, as he closed the slab door
behind him.

Frank sunk wearin down upon his bunk, weak
and trembling. The reaction from such excites
nfifit, made the strong man as helpless as a
c .

“Tom, on br‘ile a bit 0’ that meat, an’ make
some co ee—strong enou h to bounce 9. iron
wedge. Ef we don’t min , we’ll have the boy
down on our han’s, sick. Here, Frank, raise
your head. so’s I kin strip your duds of."

“I’m not a baby, Tobe,” laughed Frank.

“ ’Bey orders, you. I’ve got the ’vantage,
now, an’ kin wallop ye, of you don’t mind. Hyste
up your foot—than Now you kin— Gemently
to thunderation !” and Tobe stared aghast at the
young. man, holding in one hand the buffalo
moccasm.

“What now—what’s the matter, Tobe?” asked
Frank, partially roused from his apathy by the
astonished tone of the trap er.

“ What’s the matter? ’ ough is the matter.
Who putt asafedity on the bottom 0’ your moo-
resins?”

“ What!”

“ Smell thar———its asafedlty, for money. Did
you lSlut it thar’i”

“ id I—am I a fool?” cried Yates, now fully
amused. “No—I never even dreamed of such
a thing!” .

“But somebody did—it couldn’t ’a’ rubbed it-
self thar, could it? It was the smell 0’ thet
which sot the varmints so f’ercean’ wild. Thank
your stars, boy, that you’re alive an’ here, now.

wouldn’t resk the chances over ag’in in your
place, fer all the pelts in the world l” solemnly
uttered Tobe.

“ Somebody—Tom Taylor, can you tell me
who did this?" sudden] cried Frank, as the
words of Mountain ate flashed upon his -. '
memory. .

 

i
i .
E
!

 

 

 

 

18 ' Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

“ I—why, what do on mean?” and the dark
traplger sprung to his eet. “ Do you uccuse—”
“ o, I dont accuse you, yet, though I hon-
estly believe you did do it,” boldly added Frank.

“ How—you must—"

“ Hold! thar—no ye don’t, now,” and Tobe
Castor flushed forth his knife. “ None 0’ thet—
not ef I know’s it. Ef ye must try the tools,
take me—don’t pitch onto a sick man.”

“ Let him keep his foul hints to himself, then,”
muttered Taylor, sullenly, yet shrinking from
before the threatening trapper. “ What have I
done to deserve such treatment from him? What

, object could I have in getting him killed by the
wolves? Bah! the man s a fool, and I’m another
for noticing his ravings.” ’

“ You’re hafe right—cf not more so. But
look to that cofl‘ee. We’ll settle all this in the
mornin’. You swaller this, lad, an’ then you go

to sleep. We’ll hear your reasons for sayin’ .

what you did, a‘ter you’ve rested. Surely you
must hev some grounds fer sech talk, or you’d
’a’ ke t still?”

“I ave. But now good-night.”

However, Tobe Castor did not close his eyes
’that night. He sat beside the bunk of Yates,
moodily pondering over his strange discovery,
and upon the no less startling words of the
young trggper.

'Who h rubbed the asafetida upon the moc-
casins’!

 

\ CHAPTER VI.
run TRAITOR.

IN the morning the young trapper was him-
self again, though feeling weak and somewhat
stiff from his over-exertion. Taylor was sullen
and taciturn, not speaking unless first ad-
dressed. ,

“ Now, Frank,” said Tobe. as the trio sat eat—
ing their morning’s meal, “ I s’pose you 'member
what you said las’ night, ’bout that asafedity?”

“ Yes, I remember.”

‘?‘”You still stick to it that Tom putt the stufl‘
on

“ I believe so—though I have no direct proof.
There— ou can‘t fri hten me with your ugly
looks, om Taylor. 13 you are innocent, I am
ready to ask your pardon, but if I find that you
did do it, I’ll kill you as I would one of the

. wolves that chased me last night."

“ Hold on—now don‘t git your back up like
that, or dog my cats ef I don’t take a hand in
myself, an’ clean yo both out. Frank, tell us
your reasons.” *

‘ Yates clearly detailed “what Mountain Kate
I had said regarding Taylor and Barodyne. Cas-
tor looked rave.

“It’s a ie—I have never spoken one word

, with him since he was here,” cried Taylor,

' hotl . _
' "fiasy—take it cool, Tom. But the asafedi-

ty—how kem it on them things?”

“ How should I know? Why not accuse you,
as well as I?”
diggpmebody putt it on. I didn't—then who

"‘ Either himself—one in love will do queer
things sometimes.”-sneered Taylor, “or, how do



 

you know that Barodyne, as you call him, didn’t
do it before he left, for spite? That is more
likely than that I should do it, despite what this
marvelously acute lady declares.”

“ Thar is somethin’ in thet,” and Tobe turned
toward Frank, giving a meaning wink, that
Taylor did not see. “ I b’licvo Clem must ’a’
did it, Frank. It’s jest like the cuss. I guess
We’d better let it drop at thet.”

“ I’m willing. If I am wrong. Tom, I ask
your pardon. But there seemed no other solu-
tion, and Kate was so positive she saw you with
Barodyne that—”

“ Say no more, Frank; let it drop. You’ll
find out some of these days how you wronged
me,” uttered Taylor, cordially, as he outstretch-
ed his hand.

“ Thet’s more like it. But we must git to
work. Shell 1 look to your traps. Frank?”

“ No—I’ll go. ' I’m all right; only a little stiff,
and these scratches pain me some. I can man-
age, by taking my time,“ quickly returned
Frank for the promised interview with Moun-
tain ate was not to be missed.

Ta lor smiled disagreeably as he glanced to-
war the young trapper. But Without any fur-
ther remarks, he prepared for his daily rounds.

Leaving Turk at the dug-out on guard, the
three men separated and each proceeded toward
his traps. That day was destined to be an event-
ful one for each one of the trio, but first we will
trace those circumstances more particularly
concerning Tobe Castor.

Tobe was far from being easy in his mind,
and after crossing the river, he proceeded more
slowly through the silently falling snow, his
brain teeming with busy and conflicting
thoughts.

First there were the threats of Carl Shensen,
and the rapidly approaching end of grace. But
what most troubled him was this last discovery;
that of the drugged moccasins.

Though he had suggested Clem Barodyue, it
was done merely for a blind, for he knew how
very improbable it was that he had thought of
such a revenge, at the time of his hurried escape
at least.

Tobe sus cted Tom Tagéor, though puzzled
to guess w y he should a traitor. What
could he gain by such a course? Apparently
nothing. '

These thoughts prevented Tobe from display-
ing his usual caution, and several significant
items were overlooked, that, had his senses been
fully upon the alert, would have guarded him
against what followed.

The first half-dozen traps visited were relieved
of such game as had been caught, Tobe burying
it beneath the snow until his return. At the
next point, Tobe was suddenly and not alto-
gether agreeably roused from his meditations.

The trap was gone!

Under certain circumstances this would only
have caused chagrin, not alarm. But a single

lance showed Castor that human hands had
een at work.

“ Some durned thief !” muttered Castor, as
he sprung to land and crouched down behind
a bush, unslinging his rifle as he did so. “ Thar
lays the stake, pulled up—but what’s the tra ?
Durned ef I don’t find out. Ef it’s one 0’ the o d

at“

/ 'w .. was. 

. VEJLL 

\2

Frank Yates, the Young Trapper.

. 19

 

man’s gang, I’ll plug the Varmint el" I hev to fol-
lcr him cl’ar home !”

Tobe glided stealthin out from the river-
bank, and began circling around the spot, care-
fully searching for sign, at the same time keep-
ing on guard against ambushed shot. The light
snow was falling thickly, and objects at a. dis—
tance were rendered indistinct.

Castor gained the water‘s edge, without dis-
covering any thing suspicious, and then paused
to deliberate.

“ Must be one 0’ them. A Injun would ‘a’ bid
fer a shot at the feller what kem to look a’ter
the traps. Then he’s gone back to the rando-
voo, an’ I’m goin’ thar a‘ter him. The old man
—though mean a. plenty, sometimes—ain’t the
feller to chaw his words, an’ I’m goin’ to hev
thet tra . A number two, Newhouse, ain’t so
easy pic (ed up now’days.”

Assuring himself that 1115 Weapons were in order
for immediate service, Castor started up the
river at a more rapid rate, though still upon the
keen alert. The stream was here too deep for
fordin ,though a comparatively safe passage
mi ht had not more than a half-mile distant.

uddenly Tobe uttered a little or and paused,
with a re id glance before him. e saw where
the trap-t ief had left the river-bed and struck
along parallel with its course.

The fresh snow was now several inches in
depth, and still falling, though but thinly.
Upon this substance the thief had left a plain
and broad trail.

“ Them’s him—an’ made not a hate—hour sence,
nnther,” muttered Tobe, as he glided forward
and stooped over the partially—filled tracks.
“ Two 0’ the varmints, by ge-mentlvl Burn the
luck! at they war on’y clar, I’d know better
whaft ,to do. Reckon, though, it’s the old man’s
hoo s.

As Tobe neared the ford, he became still more
cautious, not knowing but that an enemy might
be lying in wait.

“ Ge-mently I”

The word broke from Castor’s lips as if in-
voluntarily, and then he fell heavily forward
upon his face. Only for one circumstance it
might have been supposed that he had merely
stumbled.

From the dense plum thicket that lined the
river-bank at a point some two-score yards above
where the trapper had stood, there came the
sound of one or more rifle-shots, and throu h
the falling snow could faintly be discerne a
curling smoke—wreath.

Simultaneous with the trapper’s fall a shrill,
exultant whoop echoed from the covert, and
then two dusky forms sprung out into view,
rushing hastily toward their prey. Tobe Castor
had walked blindly into an ambush.

Side by side the two fl ures dashed toward the
motionless trapper, andt eviolent exertion, dis-
loding the clinging snow from their trappings,
showed them to be Indians. That they had no
doubt regarding the accuracy of their aim was
plain, but they were Speedlly awakened to the
truth. '

The prostrate figure suddenly arose to its
knees—an arm shot out, and then at the revol-
ver’s crack, one of the red-skins sprung convul-
siver info the air, uttering a bomb e cry of

 

death-agony, as he fell bleeding to the snow- '
covered ground. His comrade paused, with a
little cry of wondering dismay.

Tobe sprung'erect, firing again as he did so,
but his foot shpped and he fell prostrate, the
pistol flyin from his hand. The discharged
bullet hissc harmlessly past the red-skin’s head.

Before Castor could recover himself the In-
dian was upon him. Too experienced to await
another shot the savage rushed to close quarters
with drawn 'nife.

Tobe, though taken at a disadvantage, was
now in his elcmcnt. More than once in his life
he had been in a somewhat similar situation,
through which his skill and address had ever
carried him safely. -

As the red-skin delivered a venomous thrust,
Castor rolled quickly aside, and with an adroit
Jerk, caused the Indian to fall, thou h rtially
on top. Then grappling, the strugg e B; mas-
tery 1n whlch defeat meant death, began.

As the Indian raised his knife for a. stroke,
Tobe promptly clutched his wrist, and with a.”
strenuous effort, strove. to wrest the weapon
free. It required the utmost strength of the
savage to prevent this.

Then, throwing his entire ower into the
effort, Castor whirled the r -skin over, and
breaking free from his left hand, sprung to his
feet. Before his bewildered antagonist could I
arise, Tobe drew his second pistol, and with its .
re ort the strife was ended.

‘ Turn about's fa’r play,” muttered the trapper
as he hastily secured his rifle, and then glanced
hurriedly around him. “They each had a shot
at me, an’ if I hadn’t fell jest in time, they’d ’a’
raised my‘ha’r for shore! It was them that
stole the trap, then—not the old man’s boys,”

and Tobe bent curiously over the last fallen In- . .  y

dian. “ Che enne, by e-mentlyl Thar must
be more on em nigh. hese two wouldn’t ’a‘
got so fur north alone this time 0’ year. Blame
the luck! What atween these an’ them, with
the white devils, things is gittin’ purty much
mixed up.”

Tobe set out and made a. rapid but thorough
search around the vicinit , but found nothing to
denote the proximity 0 other foes. In the
thicket from whence the Indians had fired he
found the stolen trap, and with a grim chuckle,
slung it upon his back.

Returmn to where lay his two victims Cusp
tor cut a be e thro hthe owscryust, and thrust
the bodies into it, c osing the opening ti htly,
after which he covered up all traces of the lood.
Though appearing ill at ease, and in haste to be

one, the rapper made thorough work of this,
or by that means alone might be hope to throw ‘
off the aven ers of blood.

“Thar! he snow’ll soon blot out the tracks.
Ef they do find the karkidges, they won’t know
who did it. Better set this trap, an‘ then fer the,
dug-out. Ef the reds find it empty, they‘ll go
fer th: plunder like a blind ’possum fer a. pow-
wow -

An hour later found Tobe Castor crossing the
river abreast the “dug-out.” He had carefully
reconnoitered the premises, but at that distance
could see nothing out of the way.

, With a sure foot. Tobe crossed on the slim,

l swaying bridge, formed by telling a tall cotton- , ‘

 

 

 

26  Prank Yates. the Young Trapper.

wood that reached from bank to bank. A. puz~
zled look rested upon the face of the trapper as
he neared the cabin.

“ Whar’s the purp? Broke loose, I wonder?
'Tain't like him—but whar’s the use? Every-
thin’"goes contrairy today—sorter stam—fo'most
like.

While speaking. or rather grumbling, Castor
had reached the dug-out, and though the snow
surface was broken and uneven, a keen glance
seemed to satisfy him that all was right, as yet.
The noiseless flakes were still falling, and the
tracks might have been made early in the morn-
in as they were partially filled.

obe saw that the door was secured in the
same manner as he had left it, and that allaycd
his suspicions. One after another he pushed in
two blocks close beside the door, and thrustng
in a hand, he pulled out the stout pins that held
the door in place.

Still the trapper displayed caution. A kick
swung the door 0 n, and with ready revolver
he glanced stt y around the room. But no
 object met his gaze.

“ ll’s hunky, so fur, anyhow,” and Tobe
:stepped inside, closing the door. and thrusting
:the' ins in their places.

hile thus occupied, his back was turned to-
ward the bunks upon the further side of the dug—
out. Even as he muttered this assurance, a pile
of robes and skins were uplifted noiselessly, and
two men stepped lightly to the ground, the right
hand of each clasping a revolver, though by the
barrel, not stock.

They crouched as if about to spring upon the
unsuspecting trapper with weapons uplifted,
and every nerve tensely strung.

The fate of the trapper seemed inevitable.
And .etasiinple circumstance put him on his
gun. .
As the second man—b far the heavier—ste
pad to the grouuda-‘a po 9 of the bunk creak '

ai tly, but yet loud enough for the experience
trapper. On that still, windless day, this fact
was sufficient to awaken suspicion.
./ Castor wheeled around, quick as thou ht, as
the creaking caught his ear, and one han drop-
ped to his knife—hilt, as b instinct.

As the trapper wheele , the two men uttered
simultaneous 'cries, and sprung forward, their

istols cutting the thin air with venomous force.
But Castor matched them fully in uickuess.

Abruptly crouching, only one o the pistol-
butts struck him, and that in a lancing manner,
merely stinging his left arm. he force of his

,uuresisted stroke caused the second man to
stumble forward, and he fell heavily against the

:trapper’s form. .

A (tuck flashing-:a peculiar, gritting sound-
:a bro en curse, ending in a deep, hollow groan;
then the larger of the assassins sunk to the floor,
his left breast covered with the life-blood that
:spouted from the ghastly cut, where Castor’s
knife had sunk home. ' .

All this had passed in a twinkling. Scarce]
a breath had been drawn from the first ms
before Tobe Castor whirled upon his second
antagonist, without trying to regain the knife
that, wedged in betwixt the severed bone. had
been wrenched from his hand as the stricken
man fell.

 

A ray of light from without fell athwart
the face of the second assassin. A cry broke
from the trapper’s lips as he recognized the
features.

“Tom Ta lorl”

“ Yes—ta e that, curse you!” gritted the de-
tected traitor, as be aimed a vicious blow at the
head of the astonished trapper.

But Tobe proved equal to the emergency.
Taylor’s wrist struck heavily upon the hunter’s
forearm, the pistol dropping from his benumbed
fingers.

hen Castor had him by the throat, and both
fell to the ground to other. The struggle was
not of long duration, or Tobe, now thoroughly
aroused, put forth his utmost powers.

“Let up, Tobe—it was all a joke! Let up,
man— ou’ll choke me to death!" gasped Taylor,
strugg ing desperately, though fruitlessly, to
cast off the tra per.

“ A nice jo ie—lots 0' fun, ain’t it? But
you’ve got to see it through now, sence you
begun it. Quit your pesky kickin’—the wuss
you kick the wuss I’ll use yei Lay still, or I‘ll
squeeze your gullet tighter ’n thet!” muttered
Tobe, his eyes glowing.

Ta lor was indeed in a pitiable condition.
Near y strangled, he ceased to struggle and lay
helpless beneath his antagonist.

Tobe partially arose, and with a strip of skin
soou bound the traitor Securely. Then he turned
lagwaid the still figure of the man he had first
s rue .

A low whistle of astonishment broke from his
lips as he turned the corpse so the light fell
athwart the distorted features. It was that of
an old acquaintance.

“ Clem Barodyne by ge-loryl So—l thunk
as much. Tom Taylor, ye pesky sarpint, be ye
awake?”

“ No thanks to you,” growled the traitor,
his voice husky and strained. “ You nearly
killed me!”

“ Ef I bed, ’twould on’y ’a’ bin what you meant
to serve me with. But look here—what does this
all mean, an how?”

“ ’I‘vvas on y a 'oke.”

“Don’t lie so on’t. What bed I ever did to
you, that you should 1j’ine ’th Clem to double
teams on me? Hain’t allays used you like a
white man i”

“ No, you haven’t. You’ve been hintingdirty
things at me for the past week.”

“ Hintin’ wuss’n this trick?”

“ Blame ourselfl”

“ All rig t—sence you say so. But tell me
what you and Clem meant, anyhow?”

“ To take you prisoner—.Barod'yne wanted
to shoot you—cuss my folly in saying anything
against it i"

“ For Why? Did the old man hev anythin’ to
do with it?" eagerly.

Taylor laughed tauiitingly, but did not reply
innwords. Castor gazed keenly down upon the
v1 am.

“I don‘t b’lieve it. It’s jest some 0’ you two’s
deviltry. I know now how Clem got loose. An’
I know, too, what that asafedity kein from. You
did ’em both.”

“ I did—make the worst of it!” -

“ What ’d he give you for lettin’ him loose?”

a...  V 

. 
“'1

.‘gg,

m'...

Prank Yates. the Young Trapper. if

 

“l‘iothing. I did it for old acquaintance

sake.

“Sol I thought mi hty queer thet sech a
pesky coward as you 6 should speak out so
bold fer stickin’ it out here. You knowed ou
was safe, or you’d ’a’ run like a jack-rabbitl’

“ Untie my hands, and I’ll show you if I am a
coward 1"

“Not much. You’ve got to stay thar ontil
Frank gits back. Thar’s thet asafodi job
yit. Mebbe he’d like to ax you somethin ’bout
it, fu‘st.”

“You'll get tired waiting for him, I guess,”
lau bed Taylor, significantly.

“ hat’s that—what do you mean?”

“ Nothing,” was the short reply.

Tobe arose and took down a thorou hly sea-
soned Wiping stick. As he tested its 9 sticity,
Taylor changed color.

“ What’re you going to do‘ with that?” be de-
mended.

“I don’t want to hurt e, Tom; I think too
much 0’ you fer thet; but reckon you’d better
tell me what I ax. I’ll play school-teacher, ef yo
don’t. Tell me what you meant ’bout Frank,”
slowly uttered Tobe. '

“ Don’t hit me with that—don’t do it! Better
think twice—don't hit mel" gritted Taylor, his
eyes lowing venomously.

“ u’ss’n a copperhead, ypu be. S’pose I do
hit ye—what’ll ye do ’bout it?”

“ I’ll kill you,” quietly.

“ Mebbe you won’t ev thet chaince. Don’t
look much like it now. But I will ef you don’t.
mu’ll I git tired afore Frank comes?”

“Because he can’t come.”

“ Why—you hain’t——”

“No, I haven’t touched him. But I won’t say
any more. Do as you please. But you had bet-
ter  me at once, if you strike me, I warn

ou.

' “ Look here, Tom Taylor. You know me.
Did I ever lie to you? No. al’ays keep my
word. Then lis’en. Ef you’ve hurt Frank, or
bed him hurt, better say your good-by now, for
when I find it out, on won’t hev time. So sure
as you lay thar, I’l kill you. 0nderstandl”

The traitor did not re ly, thou h his bronzed
cheek turned a shade pa er. He new that this
was no idle threat.

“All right. Iseo you onderstand. You kin
tell me or not, jest as you please. I’ll find out
afore night, anyhow. Ef he comes back safe,
all right; ef not—then you’ll hev to settle ’th
me

Castor tested the traitor’s bonds once more,
and then added a secure ag. Lifting the ca
tive on one of the bunks. 6 covered him wi h
robes, and then carefully inspected the condition
of his weapons. _

Fastening the door behind him, he left the
“dug-out.” An uneasy expression rested upon
his features, for he dreaded the worst.

 

CHAPTER VII.
FRANK cnoosms.

Tm: snowstorm gave Frank Yates a little un-
easiness, for he feared lest it should deter Moun.
tain Kate from keeping the appointment at the
Lone Oak. ' I

 

Thou h hc necessarily worked slow, it was at
a full our, before the designated time w en
Frank turned Into the little valley. His eyes
were fixed upon the snow, an expression of con- '
flicting hope and doubt resting upon his face.

The soft snow bore traces of a horse’s booi's, -
and he knew that the rider had assed by within
the half-hour, for the falling fla as had scarcely
blurred tho imprints.

“No it is not her,” and Frank seemed disn
pointc as he spoke. “There’s no one at t e
tree. Some one of the band must have passed
through here by chance. She will come at the
time—it lacks nearly an hour et.”

One swift glance had told ates the narrow
valley was empty, before he advanced into full
view of the tree. As he gained the oak, a puzzled
look overspread his face.

The snow beneath the tree was trampled and
scored, as though the rider had paused there for
some time. Could it be that Mountain Kate had
kept the rendezvous, and after waiting, had rid-
dcn on?

The trail, after leaving the treegepursued a.
course precisely similar to the one ore taken
by the strange maiden, and seeing this Frank
felt that she was indeed the rider.

“ But it’s before time—l don’t understand it.
Ha i”

A lump of snow, dislodged from the limb
overhead by a passing gust of wind, fell upon
Frank’s shoulder, causin him instinctivelyto
look upward. A bright o 'ect caught his gaze,
and Witha nimble bound, ates seized it row
the rough bark.

“ It was she. This is part of her red plume;
But how did it get there? Hal blind tool!“

A reasonable solution of the mystery flashed.
across Frank’s mind. Something had occurred
to prevent Mountain Kate's kee ing the ap-
pointment at the hour named, an she had left-
a token to that effect. The bit of scarlet feather
had been placed there to recall to his memory
the spot spoken of as a note-repository.

As Frank swung himself up into the tree, his
eyes fell upon a small note stored away in the
hollow, protected by a bit of fur. Eagerly
clutchin this, he crouched down and quickly
master its contents.

There was ncither address nor signature, but,
though so ambiguously worded, Yates had little
difficulty in comprehending the entire facts. It
ran: .

“Your life is in great ril. A serpent watched,
the tree yesterday, over eard all, and reported to
his master. Should you (all into his power now.
nothing could save you. His anger is fearful. We
are both watched but I will manage to leave this
where you will find it, though we must not wanna:
meet again. Forget the past days. think' only or
yourself, and flee while there is time. A moment‘s

elay may be fatal. I pray you go—i! not for your
own sake. then for mine." .

'Frank read and reread this note, with pecu~
liar emotions.

A sply had witnessed their last meeting, an
had tod all to Carl Shensen. After that,he
could easily believe his life was in danger.

But there were more pleasant thoughts con-
jured up by the note. The very words—the
fact of Mountain Kate’s braving her parent’s f
anger to warn him—told Frank that she regard~ » '

\

I”. y m.

 

E?

88 Frank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

"jaw-*1. . Wm. .-i"—’. ; 7-...

\ ter.

 

ed him very highly, if not—here his heart
bounded—reciprocating his love.

“ What now?” he muttered, descending from
the tree. “ Will Shensen break the treaty? I’ll
have to make a confidant of Tobe, I guess. But
one thing is settled—I don’t leave this lace
without seeing the dear girl once more, at east.

Maybe I can—”
Thou h alone, Frank’s cheek flushed, his eyes
5 rkl , and his voice lowered. He scarcely

red whisper the waking hope even to himself.

“ Yes. Tobe must know of this new turn. He
is back from his traps 'by this time. I’ll go to
the dug-out, first.”

In his present actions Frank betrayed his
ignorance of frontier craft. One of greater ex—

ieuce would easily have avoided the danger
into which he so blindly walked.

Mountain Kate. in her note, stated plainly
that she was watched. If so, and situated as
her home was, could she leave it in daytime, on
horseback, unobserved? Not likely.

And yet, in the face of these facts, Frank was
carelessly walkin along the back-trail, without

‘ one thought of a ostile meeting.

‘ But he ‘was speedily aroused from his medita-
, tion. As he gained the mouth of the valley, he

abruptly paused.

From the patch of plum-brush before him.
several rudely-clad forms sprung into View, and
rushed toward him. Yates coc ed and threw
forward his rifle, but hesitated about firin .

As they came on, he sprung backwar , but
his feet catching against a shrub, he fell to the
ground, his rifle going oil? in the air. Before he
could arise, or make any resistance, he was se-
curely held by half a dozen pair of hands, and
Eben; a stout thong bound his arms behind his

ac .
“ What does this mean? Who are you ?" Frank
cried, ang fly, as the strange assailants lifted
him to his feet.

“That yém are our prisoner—that we are your
captors,” ughed one of the men, daintily brush-
ing the snow from his garments with a neatly-
gloved hand.

“But what right—in what have I wronged
you that you treat me thus?”

“ on are a trapper? Good. You catch a
beaver. If it should ask you that question, what
would you reply? By right of the strong band;
and I give you that answer now. Your sin?
You have crossed the path of one who recognizes
no law save that which he makes himself. But
for that youmust answer to him. 1 have only
to take you to his presence.”

“ You mean your master~”

“ No. I have no master. I have a chief, ’tis
true, but nothing more. But that does not mat-
You mean Ca tain Shenseni”

“ Yes. Is it by is orders that I am taken
prisoner in this way?”

“ Cap’n Carl said as how he wasn't to know
nothin’ more ontel he was brung afore him,” in-
terposed one of the outlaws.

“Hold your peace, Mat Gorman. Do you at-
tain t to touch me my duty?”

“ ye oes ag’in’ orders, yes, Dandy George.
Cap’n sai fetch ‘him that ’thout any gassin’.
You hearn him, I reckon,” was the uiet reply.

“ Now, since your curiosity is sat' zed,” added

 

Dandy George, turning to Frank, “we will
march. If you behave yourself. we will treat
you decently; but go you must. How is it—will
you walk?”

“ Yes—lead on.”

Half an hour’s tramp through the snow brought
them to the hill where the outlaw cam was
located. Despite his perilous situation, I1’4‘1'ank
gazed curiously around him, over the rough-
bearded men, the huts with their occupants;
more than one fair face peered out at him through
the opened doors—faces of women and children,
who ap cared perfectly contented with their
strange ot.

“ Where is the captain, Bartlett?” asked Dandy
George of one of the guards.

“ In the shanty. He’s waitin’ fer you, I
reckon.”

A rap at the door of the largest hut called
forth a summons to enter, in a deep voice, and
the young trapper stood before the bandit chief,
Carl Shensen. Their gaze met—that of one be-
ing harsh and vindictive, that of the other, firm
and composed.

“ This is the fellow, then?” uttered Shensen,
glancing toward Dandy George.

“ Yes. We found him at the 01d spot and
here is a note he dropped during the scuflle. ’

A deep glow suffused the outlaw’s countenance
as he received the billet written by Mountain
Kate, and uickly scanned its contents.

“ When id you receive this note?”

“Ask your spy, yonder,” and Frank smiled
contemptuously.

“ I choose to ask you—answer me.”

“ And I choose not to reply, at least, not until
I know your reason for treating me in this man-
ner. Why have you—or your men—assaulted
me, in the very face of your treaty with Tobe
Castor? The week of grace is not yet over.”

“ You were not to trouble me nor mine—if
one portion of the bargain is broken, why not
another?" But let that ass. I know where you
got this. It was while eeping the appointment
with my daughter, whose head you have turned
by your hollow-hearted flu ttery and soft speeches.
I know all—you were watched yesterday, and
every7 word reported to me by a trusty spy.”

“ I said nothing then that I am either afraid
or ashamed to repeat to you,” quickly replied
Frank.

“Don’t be im udent, fellow,” drawled Dandy
George. affects ly.

“ Richards, oblige me by visiting the guards.
See that they are on duty,” sharply uttered
Shensen, his face flushing as though displeased.

“Now, sir," he added, as the man disappear-
ed. “You know me?”

“I’ve heard of you—yes.”

“Very well. You know then that I am not a
man to stand at trifles. I tell you this, that you
mav remember your position, and not speak
without weighing your words. You are the
young man who killed the wolverine that at-
tacked my daughter?”

Frank nodded.

“ I thought so, and to that fact you owe your
life. When my path is crossed, do not often
trouble myself to the extent I have in this case.
1 close my hand and crush the interloper. In-
stead, I give you another chance. NOW tell me

 

 

Prankaatel. the Young Trapper.

 

-—have you decided to leave this valley, as you
were warned?”

“ VXe have not decided yet whether to go or
stay.

“Stay! can you think of it for one moment?
Do you know that I have over three-score men
here to Whom my will is law ?”

“Twenty to one is long odds; but greater
have been fought before now,” quietly replied
Frank.

For a moment Shensen was silent. His keen
eyes severely scanned the face of the young man
before him, but could detect no bravado or fool-
ish boasting there.

“ I said you were overheard yesterday. How
am I to interpret what you told my daugh-
tor?"

“ As it was spoken.
the truth.”

“ You would marry her—knowing her father
to be such as I am?”

H Yes. ,7

“When she refused to desert me, you said I
was welcome to a share of your home. That
was a lie?” "

“ No—I meant it all.
peat now. I am rich in my own ri ht, and if
you will agree, half of it is at our isposal on
condition that you abandon t is life and give
me your daughter,” and Frank’s face flushed
with eagerness.

“ You may mean well—but this is all folly. I
am too well and widely known for that. It
would be thrusting my neck into a noose.
There are few States in the South and West that
do not bear my mark. I have killed nearly a
snore of white men with my own hand—there
are three separate rewards offered for my head.
After this, you can see the folly of your pro-
posal. even supposing I felt inclined to accept it
—which I am not. No! I will die as I have
lived—a Free Rover. And my Kate stays with
me until that time, be it sooner or later.

“But now to business. You wonder why I
have sent for you? Good. Listen and I will
tell you. You are the first man who has ever
breathed the word love into her ear, and you
must promise, on your word of honor, as a man
and gentlemen, never to repeat that or like
words to my daughter. Will you give that

I told her nothing but

promise?”
“ No. I will make no promise without know-
ing it will be kept. You ask an impossibility.”
‘ How so?”
“ I told on that I love her; I wish her for
Eny wife. s it so strange then that I should re-
use

“So—you are obstinate. Promise never to
mention this matter to her again, without my
consent. and «on may go free—unharmed.” ,

“ And if I do not?”

“Then I will kill you,” came the reply, low
but striking] clear and distinct.

“I will tel you as I did her; since it must be
so, I will leave this place now, but I will not
give up my hope of winning her eventually. My
love is not that of a boy; it is for all time. ”

“That will not do. You must pledge our
honor never to seek her out—never to ad 953
her when you chance to meet, until I say you

may.”

What I said then, I re- i’

 

 
   

“ That I will not promise. You ask too much,” ‘

firmly replied Frank.

“Beware l” \

“I have spoken. I will not lie, even to you.
You have the ]power now, and, if you like, can
murder me, he the others of which you
{pasted But you can’t make me swear to is
ie.

The change that came over the outlaw chief
was fright ul. His countenance flushed to a
sickly purple, and his eyes fairly seemed to emit
electric s arks.

His lit e form crouched forward, and ‘one
hand drew a revolver. The hammer raised with
a metallic click, and the black muzzle stared
Yates full in the face; but the young tra per
did not flinch. He stood erect and motion ess,
his face pale but composed, looking the des-
perado fu l in the eye,

“ Hold! Father, you shall not murder him !”

The words rung out clear and distinct, as the
door behind Shensen was flung open, revealing
an inner apartment. Mountain Kate sprung
forward and clutched the leveled. weapon, just
in time. , r'

The istol was discharged, but its contents,
that at erwise would have bored the young
trapper’s skull, passed harmleSSly through the
frail roofing. Shensen uttered a snarling cry,

but his daughter clung despe’ ater to his arms. ,

“You shall not murder him—he saved my
life.”

“ Begone—I tell you begone, before I forget
myself and do you an injury," grittcd Shensen,
raising his clinched fist be ore the brave girl’s

e es.
y“ Strike—it will match your murdering s
bound and helgless prisoner. Father, remem-
ber yourself—t
God helping me, I will save your soul from
this!”

n Kate,
room. This is no place for
 hand of the outlaw so.vly sunk, to
s1 e. ’

“ N 0—1 will not 0 until you promise me that
you will not—not arm him,” faintly uttered

ink what this is you would do.’

you are foolish. Go back, to your 7. i ’
on,” and the u - '

Kate, as though the trial had been too severe for .

her strength. v

“Go, then; I promise to give him another
chance. I will give him until to-morrow night.
You can trust me child.”

Kate turned and left the room, and Shensen
barred the door behind her. Then resumin his
seat, be closely scanned the countenance 0 his
captive for several moments in silence. ~~

‘ You heard my promise: I give you until to-
morrow night to decide.”

“ I have already decided. I did not speak
from impulse. I am willing to leave this valley
at once.’

“And never seek an interview with my
daughter? It you ever chance to meet you wi
shun her?”

“ No, I will not promise that. You wouldn‘t
belive me if I did.’ .

Shensen uttered an exclamation of impatient
disgust. This obstinac nettled him reatl .

“ You are a fool—a b ' d, unrea i lot——
who deserve death a thousand times. on pre-
sume upon your escape this time, but you are

\

 

  

i.
l
[,

 

.24 Frank Yates, the Young Trapper.

~—

 

_'wrong. As sure as both of us lire and draw
.breath now, unless you change your decision,
and give me the pledge, I ask, you shall die. I
have sworn it!”

Frank did not reply, and then the outlaw
chief summoned a couple of men, to whom he
gave sundry directions concerning the safe-keep-
ing of the captive. Then, as Yates was led
away, Shensen sat down with a capacious black
{bottle for a companion. In such moments as
these, he was carefully avoided by all.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
TEE CHEYENNE CHIEF.

IT was mid-forenoon of the day succeeding
that which marked the capture of Frank Yates.
The guard /on duty at the head of the pass
sounded a low note upon his horn whistle, then
settled back upon his robe.

“What is it, barker?” asked Dandy George,
as he glided t’) the man’s side.

A nod and grunt directed the oflicer’s atten-
tion toward the cause of the warning note. A
low whistle broke from his lips, and an expres-
sion of surprise upon his countenance.

“An Indian, by my honor!” he muttered.
“ What can he be doing here, and alone, at
this time 0’ year?”

“Mebbe not so ’lone as you think," granted
Barker. “ I see’d a big trail yist’day, over the
river. Not less’u forty of the imps, an’ mebbe
more'n thet.”

“ Why didn’t you report, then?”

“Cap’n was—wal. you know how—an' you
was gone som’r’s. Then I went on duty an’
forgot it. But lookl the pesky varmint knows
we’re here!"

The savage, tall and well formed, advanced
slowly. though with a confident air. He bore
no weapons in sight, though the ample bufi’alo—
rohe that shrouded his form might have conceal-
ed them.

Pausing when within a couple of hundred
yards of the base of the bill, be uttered a pe-
culiar whoop, then made the pantomimic peace
signal generally used by the rairie Indians,
both hands clasped while raise above his head.

Dandy George stepped forward and asked,
“ Who are you?” by raising his right hand
with open palm toward the savage. then slowly

moving it to the right and left. In reply, the
Indian extended one arm, drawing his other
hand smartly across it.

“That means ‘Cut—Arm,’ muttered Baker.
“He’s a. Cheyenne. /Had Ibest call the boss?"

. “ No. He says he’s a friend, and since he is
alone, there can be no harm in seein what he
wants. I’ll go down and find out. esp the
{reptile covered, and it I raise my hand, plug

1m.

“All ri ht. I owe ’em a grudge. anyhow.”

Dandy rge descended the slope, and, at a
gesture. the Cheyenne advanced toward him.

“ Well?” uttered Dandy George. “The Chey-

“ You chief? Dat you’ tribe on hill?”
, “ Well,_ not exactly, though I am a chief, too;
but the big chief is up yonder,” laughed the out-

law. .
“ Me tell him, den. Toupikanick, big chief—~

_ enne chief would speak with me?”

 

Cheyenne war-chief,” uttered the savage, turn.
mg upon his heel.

‘ Hold on—I didn’t say you should go to him.
I’ll send for him,” said Dandy George. not know—
ing but the chief was a spy, the object of whose
visit was to ascertain their exact Situation and
strength, then turning to Barker he added:

“ Go tell Captain Carl that a Cheyenne chief
wants to see him.”

Shensen quickly made his appearance, and
after closely scanning the savage, warmly wrl—
comed him, That whatever of suspicion he
might have entertained was banished, was plain-
ly evidenced by his inviting the Cheyniie to his
own quarters.

“ Taste that, chief.” said Shcnsen, pouring
out a cupful of whisky. “It will warm your
heart and help us to understand each other bet-
ter.

Toupikanick quickly hid the liquor, and
smoked his pipe with the air of a connoisseur,
and the fiery liquor did seem to loosen his
tongue. As his talk was rather broken, hard
to write and still harder to read understand-
ingly, we take the liberty of presenting it in a
more shapely form.

“ Well, chief, you said you wished to see me.
There is peace between us?”

“ Yes, Toupikanick heard that a band of pale-
face had settled here and believed they were some
of those moles who dig the earth for gold. He
come with his braves to drive them awa from
his hunting-grounds. But where be 100 ed for
an enem , he has found a brother. It is good.
We are riends.”

“ I am glad of that, chief, for I am something
like your own people. I fight against all ale-
faces, exce ting those who call me their c icf.
I have me. e friends with all except the Chey-
ennes—now we are brothers.”

“ You speak true—your words are not crook-

a”

“ What do you mean, chief ? Of course I speak
the truth. My words bear only one meaning,
whether spoken to friends or enemy.”

“ Good! Toupikanick w111 trey his brother. If
one of your braves killed one o my braves. and
(11%;)qu ask you for his scalp, what would you

0

“ If you could prove it, I would give him up
to you to deal with as you saw fit. But why
ask this? Nothing of the kind has happenedé”
slowl uttered Shensen.

“ es, there has. Yesterday two of my braves
went forth to hunt. They did not come back.
They were good and true braves, and when we
found them, our hearts were sad.”

“ You did find them, then?”

“Yes. Their bodi s were hidden in the snow,
but their irits had taken up the long trail to
the happy hating-grounds. One was shot with
a rifle: the other was killed by a knife. Who
did it?” I _

“I don’t know. Do you think it was one of
my men?” ' .

‘Who else? These hills are not like a big
town. Pale-faces are not so many that a pap-
poose would grow old in counting them. The
snow hid the trail, but there are only your braves
and my braves in the hills.” ‘

“There you are wrong, chief. There are other.

 

 

Prank Yates, the

Young Trapper. 96

 

white men here, and they must have done this,
for I have given strict orders that my men
should never injure an Indian except in self-de-
fense. ’

“ Who are these pale—faces? Where do they
burrow, that the eye of a Cheyenne cannot see
them?”

“ They are three trappers, or rather only two
now, for I have one of them a prisoner here.
They are my enemies, too.”

“ You think they killed my braves?”

“Yes. But still, it may have been some of
my men. If so, and they are found out, I will
keep my word and give them over to you for
punishment as you see fit. But come, I must
show you my captive, and you may find out
whether or not he had a hand in the death of
your warriors.”

Shensen led the way to the but where Frank
Yates was confined. As they entered, the young
trapper arose and confronted them, his legs hav-
ing been left unbound.

“Well, young sir, how do you feel this morn-
in l” x

E None the better for fasting so long,”

“ Fasting?"

“I have tasted nothing since yesterday morn-
ing, neither drink nor food.”

‘ Curse that Dandy George,” muttered Shen-
sen, angrily. “I gave orders for you to be de-
cently used. Chief, will you stay here till I
come back?” \

Tou )ikanick grunted assent. In a. few min-
utes S ensen returned, bearing food, water and
a flask of liquor. His hands temporarily freed,
Frank partook heartily, being, in reality, half-
famished.

“ You have thought well over my proposal?”
at length asked the outlaw.

“Yes. I tell ou now as I told you then, that
I am willing to save this valley—’

“ And never try to renew your acquaintance
with my daughter?" eagerly interrupted Shen-

sen. .

“ No. I will not promise a lie.”

“Then, stubborn idiot, you shall die! I will
dally no longer with you. You choose—very
well; I will not disappoint you. When the sun
goes down, I must hi] you. You understand?”
gritted the sullen chief.

“ You speak plainly enough to be understood,
at all events 7’ coolly replied Frank.

“ My brot er speaks 0t words—what has the
youn brave done?” interposed the Cheyenne.

“ e is my enemy— he is one of the trap rs I
told you about. Either he or his friends illed
your two braves.”

The brow of the Cheyenne corrugated. and be
bent his gaze keenly upon the young trapper,
whose lip curled slightly. Toupikanick spoke
slowly:

“ wo warriors of the Cheyennes took up the
long trail last sun. Does the pale-face know
who sent them i"

“ What if I say that I sent them home?”
laughed Frank.

“ Then Toupikanick will have your scalp to
show  people that their brothers were not un-
aven

 

g .
“ hat does this mean?” demanded Yates,
turning to Shensen.

“ It means that some one has killed a couple
of Cheyennes, and the chief is resolved to have
revenge. Better on you than one of my men,
and if you reque to accept my terms, I will give

on over to him to deal with as he sees fit.

romise, and I will save you, if it costs half my
band ” muttered the outlaw in a low tone.

“ on have my answer,” coldly replied Frank
gurning away and seating himself upon the rude

unk.
“Chief,” and Shensen was pale with re ens
he spoke, “ here is one scalp for you. I w' tell
you where you can get two more. Will that
prove my friendship?”

“Yes, the white chief and the Cut-Arms will
be good friends and brothers forever. Toupi-
kanick will take the white dog to his braves and

_ tell them of the treaty. Then we will come and

smoke the peace-pipe”.

“Good! You can take him whenever you ‘
wish. I only ask one thing: that you do not
let him escape you. He must die I”

“ He shall die—it is spoken.” .

“ Captain ShenSen 1 ask you as a man not to
do this. If nothing hut my death will satisfy
you, kill me at once—but don’t give me over to
be tortured by this devili” cried Frank vehe-
mently.

Shensen laughed sneeringly.

“You have elected—you were obstinate and
must abide by the consequences of your folly.

I would have saved you, but you said no. B e
yourself, not me.”
Frank’s reply was interrupted b an alarm

without that startled ShenSen. A s arp whistle
twice repeated broke the still air.

“ Some one is coming—guard the captive,
chief, until I come back."

Shensen hastened to the head of the passage,‘
where he beheld what had called forth the sig-
nal. Upon the level ground below was a man,
evidently white. gesticulating wildly, though
the words he uttered were indistinct.
ou want?” said

“Who are you—What do
or my men will

Shensen. “ Stand your groun
bore you through i”

“ I’m a friend—there’s an enemy in your
camp— he means to set your prisoner free I”
shouted the man in a hoarsa, unnatural voice.

“ Who do you mean? Are you crazy?”

“ It’s Tobe Castor, disguised as an Indium!”

A snarl of fury broke from the _outlaw’s figs
as the truth flashed u on his mind. He 1’ t
that these strange worr s were true. I

“ A gallon of whisky to the man who kills the
lyin dog! Guard the pass, men, and make sure
wor of the rascal l”

vUnfortunately for the informer, this speech
was misunderstood, and several rifle-shots
promptly followed. 'With a wild my the man
flung aloft his arms, and then fell heavfly fer-
ward upon his face, his life-blood staining the
pure snow.

 

CHAPTER IX.
roan onsroa’s nusn. ‘
WHEN Tobe Castor left the “dug-out” With
Tom Taylorlying there bound and helpless, he
had a settled urpose in view: That object was
to learn whet er or no the traitor had hinted at 1
the truth about Frank Yates.

“A

 

i.

an; -‘ .

I
L
i
i

 

26 Prank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

First he visited the youn man’s traps, and
found ample evidence that rank had attended
to them as usual. Then he followed the half-
fllled tracks with a skill worthya ranger until at
the mouth of the little valley so often alluded to.

Here the trampled snow arrested his attention.
The confused tracks. the imprints of where hu-
man forms had rolled over and over, were plain-
ly read.

“It’s so—the varmints hev got the boy!” mut-
tered Tobe, anxiously. “ Kin the old man hev
gone back on his word? The stick floats that
way. Tobe Castor, you was a durned fool fer
trustin’ sech a cuss—you was fer sure!”

Castor followed the trail until fully convinced
as to where it would end. Then he turned aside
to the hill from the top of which he had first
reconnoitered the outlaws' village.

From this position, after an hour’s waiting, he
saw Frank led a prisoner from Shensen‘s quar-
ters. Marking the position of the prison—hut, he
turned and descended the hill.

That night he matured a bold and hazardous

lan: one that seemed foolhardy in the extreme,
but which he hoped would succeed from its very
audacity. He visited the spot where he had
buried the Cheyennes, removed the snow, secur-
ing the trappings, pouch and hair of the largest
Indian. leaving their weapons still concealed.

With day dawn he beaan his work. His heard
was closely shaven, his air cropped short, and
then before the roaring fire, hestood as naked as
when he came into the world.

The Cheyennes had been in their war-paint,
and as a matter of course had with them the
necessary paints and pigments for renewing
their toilet when required. These articles Tobe
now brought into requisition.

In an hour’s time he stood forth the vary beau
ideal of a savage warrior, in paint, hair, plumes
and trappings. While thus occupied, acreaking
of the bunk startled him, and turning, he beheld
the keen black eyes of Tom Taylor closely re-
garding him from beneath the robes.

A frown flitted over Castor’s face. For cer-
tain reasons he did not care about the captive
knowing of his plans.

“ So you’ve waked no, hev ye’i Kinder ’lowed
you was goin’ to sleep forever.”

A contortion of Taylor’s features was correct-
1y interpreted b the trapper.

“Thirsty? V al, I‘ll give ye a sup, but hain’t

ottime to feed ye now. When I come back ’th

nk, then we’ll talk ‘bout thet.”

Tobe removed the gag, and Taylor drank ea-
gerly. He strove to speak. but could not. The
gas,' had almost dislocated his jaw.

‘ Sorry fer ye—am, railly, but it can’t be
he! d now. You’re too full 0 Pesky cussedness
to e trusted. Somebod mought hear your
screechin’s afore I got bac . So 0 n your trap
g—I don’t want to choke ye, Tom, ut I will ef
you make me. Thar—now rest easy as ye kin,
ontil we git back.”

_Then he left the “ dug-out.” and set forth upon
his self~1moosed mission, birliig his rifle when
near the hill, lest it should betray him. We
have seen how cleverly he played the role of Tou-
pikanick. the Cheyenne chief.

_Bnt Tobe had underestimated the powers of
his captive. Nerved to desperation at the

 

thought of what might be his fate should Tobe
succeed in releasing Yates, Taylor struggled
frantically with his bonds.

The blood that oozed from his lacerated wrists
soaked through the buckskin thongs. They
gradually yielded until, nearly exhausted, Tay-
lor found his hands free.

The rest was comparativer easy. Then, while
resting, he a peased his hunger, and with the
sense of free om, came a burning desire for re—
venge.

Be it was who hailed the outlaw leader, and
made known the identity of the disguised trap-
per. And be it was that fell bleeding to the
grougd before that hasty volley of the mistaken
guar s.

Hqu crazed with.rage, the outlaw chief, fol-
lowed by his men, rushed madly toward the hut
where he had left the counterfeit Cheyenne, and
his captive. The door was closed.

“ Kill them both! Shoot—cut them down with-
out mercy!” he screamed, as he hurled his shoul-
der against the door.

It flew open, but his burning eyes did not fall
upon the daring trapper.

With the exception of himself and followers,
the but was empty.

Throughout the triangular interview, Frank
Yates had been playing a part as well as Tobe.
When Shensen left the but for drink and food.
Castor revealed himself and instructed Frank
how to act. And only for the unexpected a -
Kearance of Tom Taylor. the bold ruse would

ave been a complete success.

Tobe heard the cry of the traitor and recog-
nized his voice; any doubts as to the purport of
the words were quickly dispelled by the fierce
order of Shensen. That told him there was no
time to lose.

“Quick, Frank! we must run fer it—foller
me!” he muttered, as he left the hut.

Tobe dashed toward the hill of trees at a
point almost directly opposite to that where
the pass led down to the level ground. With-
out pausing. he s rung boldly down over the
escarpment, thoug such a course seemed cer-
tain death.

Sure-footed as a mountain goat. he alighted
upon a snow ledge, some ten feet below the level,
and then, followed by Yates. he bounded down
the steep declivity, slipping, sliding, but ever
recovering himself in time to avoid a serious
fall, resting like a bird upon a 3'8 ged spur. a.
rounded bowlder that trembled $eneath his
weight, or swinging down by some stunted cedar;
all nick as thought.

T e echoes of the rifle-shots had scarce died
away among the hills ere the two fu itives
were at the bottom, in the narrow de le or
canyon before alluded to. Then a yell—a
sharp rifle—crack from the plateau above; the
spang of a bullet flattening upon the rocky wall
1besiiie them, told that their foes were upon the

re) . .

“ Come, Frank. the imps air yelpin’ on the
trail. It's run, now. Take it cool, an’ don’t
waste your breath. Thar’s time a-plenty. I
reckon. The varmints air all ahind us,” coolly
uttered Tobe. as he started up the canyon at a
moderate run. ‘

“ But they have horses—”

 

.
f
i
7..

Prank Yates. the Young Trapper.

“What good is bosses here? Kin the (lodge
through dornicks liko them?” chuckled obc, as
he writhed through a narrow passage.

“But they may cut us off. They can go
around—”

“ Not much! Ten mile tliet would be, While
we’re goin’ less’ii one. No, they must foller
ri ht in our trucks; nn’ I tell you we’re safe,
la . lVatcr leaves no trail. This kenyou leads
to the river. we go thar, uu’ then I’ll hi le you
so well a red—skin, wild fer lia’r, couldn’t find
ye, let alone them whisky—guzzlin’ varmints
back yon’. It’s a hole thct hes stud me in good
play more’n onc’t, aii’ I don’t b’lieve nobody

news 0’ it but me. I hid the place when I used
it last, three year gone by, it is now.”

“ A cave?”

“Yas. Ruthor oncomfertable in cold wea-
ther. seein‘ the water runs up a ways inside,
but better ’n bein’ rubbed out, I opine. We’ll
cache thar ontel we git ready to leave this
grount .”

“ We must do that soon, I fear ” and Frank
sighed as he thought of Mountain kate.

“Not ontel I git even ’th thct cussed Tom
$1 lor. His ha’r is mine—I sw’ai‘ it!" gritted

0 .

Though the. shouting behind them told the
outlaws were in hot pursuit, Tobe took matters
coolly, and from this Frank ained assurance.
And this confidence was speedi y confirmed.

The river was reached, and entering it, Tobe
ran hastily up—streain for several hundred yards.
At a point where the bank rose up into a. goodly-
sized cliff, he paused iii waist-deep water, and
stooping, lifte( on edge a flat stone.

“ Crawl in, Frank uickl The imps ain’t
fur behind, an’ of they Sight us now, all up ’th
our hides!”

Yates stooped and crawled through the dark-
ness blindly. Castor followed, carefully lower-
ing the stone behind him.

A cry of wonder broke from the oung trap-
per’s ll s, as he stood erect and rushed the
water rom his eyes. Truly, a. strange sight
greeted him.

They stood within a goodly-sized excavation
the walls and roof of which seemed of soli(
rock. A dim light pervaded the cave, but from
whence it came Frank could only guess.

Tobe stood by, enjoying his comrade’s won-
der, laughing heartily in his own silent manner.

“ Come. Frank, le’s wring out our duds, an’
I’ll tell you how I found it. The imps cain’t
smell us out here. ”

The explanation was simple. An otter had
swum away with a trap, and the “float” be-
coming entangled in the entrance, had led to the
discovery of the den. From several small holes
and crevices in the cliff came in the peculiar
light that had so bewildered Frank.

Sitting there, the two trappers laughed at the
vain efforts of their foes, who, more than once,
‘ assed so close that their curses were distinctly
audible. But then a new fear seized Eraiik.

“We have no firearms—what Will we do?
They will clean out the dug-out, surely." '

“In co’se. But I hev my ’volvers here, an‘
the rest is easy. Why, lad, I’d ’Eree to git
weapons au’ fodder fer them an‘ us, this very
night, thar in the varmints’ Village; but thar’s

 

o
87

no need 0’ thet. I‘ve got in ’volvers here, my

rifle is safe liid, an’ the red-s ins I told You I

rubbed out, ’11 furnish one fer you. See?”
With this Frank was content.

CHAPTER X.
A TREACHEROUS SHOT.

THAT night Tobe stole out and recovered his
rifle, together with those formerly belonging to
the dead Cheycniies, taking also their ammuni-
tion. He cautiously reconnoitered the dug-out,
but, though findin it still standing and ap-
iarently unmolest , he would not risk a viSit
fast then, feeling assured that it was watched in
io es of the owners’ venturing thither.

e also visited his traps, and after cutting of!
the tails of such beaver as were caught—that
portion of the animal being the only one eatable
—he buried traps and all in the snow, knowing
that otherwise they would be found and confis-
cated by the outlaws.

d For two days the refugees kept quietly in their
en.

During this time Tobe was relieved of one
source of uneasiness. Barker, the outlaw senti— '
nel, had 5 ken the truth when telling Dandy
George be ad observed the trail of a large band
of Indians. '

To this band had belonged the two Cheyennes
slain by Castor, and their in sterious disappear-
ance had been investigate . The bodies were
found by their once comrades, and with the dis-
covery came thoughts of ven eunce.

In brief, the Clieyeiines ha atttwked the out-
laws’ stronghold, and though defeated, made
their mark deep and sore. When the uproar
told Tob '1 this, he chuckled long and deep. I

“ It’ll be the and o’ the varmints. Them reds
as got away ’11 fetch back more, an’ then good-
by, Mister irates! We must it‘to work now.
I want a whack at that Tom fn sf.”

“And what will be poor Kate’s fate?” mur~
mured Frank, mentally. ‘

The snow was hard frozen now, its crust am-

ly strong enough to bear up a man’s weight.

otli the refugees had left the cave. ostenSibly
with the same purpose, that of bringing Taylor
to acclvunt. But while Castor thought only of
this, Frank dwelt in mind far more upon the
opposite passion. -

ates then visited the oak tree, and found
there am 16 evidence that he was not forgotten,
himself orgettin that enemies might equally
as well have mar ed and scored the snowvcrust
with hoof-tracks. »He believed that Mountain
Kate had been there, in hopes of hearing from
him, or—and his eyes glowed—of meeting him
in Jerson.

_ e crouched down under shelter of the lum
thicket. Hour after hour passed by, and ll he
sat there, watching and yearning for that which
bade fair never to come.

Then his heart beat high and fast. Through
the leafless twigs he caught a glimpse of an a
preaching figure. Nearer, a. woman: stil
nearer, Mountain Kate!

Their meeting was joyous and heartfelt,
though not to such a degree as Frank had an-
ticipated in his day-dreams. There wasa sub-
tle dignity in the maiden that curbed his pas- ,
sionate ardor. v

 

 

, aflrighted. They closod

O

28 Frank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

“ You should not have lingered,” chided Kate,
earnestly, as they stood face to face beneath the
trysting—tree. “The hand is still searching for
you, and should they find—4’

“ Could I leave without seeing you again?”
uttered Frank, as she paused, trembling. “ You
saved my life, that day. I wished to thank you
for that.”

“ There is no need. But it you are grateful,
prom? it, by seeking safety. Fly while you
can.

“ And leave you? No, I will not do that,
Kate. I told on I loved you You must be—
lieve me now, or you heard it tested.”

“ It is folly—you had ought to go. There are
others far more worthy of your love than I,
for at best I couldonly give you a——”

The sentence was never completed; the slow,
tremulous words gave place to a piercing shriek
as Frank groaned and staggered backward, his
lite-blood sprinkling the snow.

A venomous re ort broke upon the air—a rifle-
crack, closely to lowed by a yell of triumph,
and then a clear voice shouted:

“ Hurrah! boys, he’s got his ticket!”

Up the valley dashed four men. The foremost
brandished a rifle, the smoking muzzle of which
marked it as the one from which had sped the
treacherous shot. That man was the traitor
trapper, Tom Taylor, whom we last beheld fall-
in0 to the snow as though dead. But the hasty
vo iey had spared his life, though one missile,
more truly aimed than the other, creased his
skull, stunning him. He speedily recovered,
anal was admitted as a member of Captain Shen-
sen’s band.

Frank Yates reeled and fell, his breast stained
withthe blood that sprinkled the snow. This
sight, together with the words of the murderer,
changed Mountain Kate from a trembling
maiden to an avenger of blood.

A cry broke from her lips, fierce and vindic-
tive; so strange and unnatural was it that the
outlaws paused in dismay.

One lithe arm shot out—the sun’s rays glittered
upon the polished tube. A report—a yell of
agony; then a tall. Torn Taylor lay writhing
upon the snow-crust, snarling and groaning like
a stricken beast of prey.

His comrades stoo in open-mouthed inde-
cision; but not for long. The stately thumb and
forefinger worked like magic. One, two, three,
four reports followed each other, regular asa
time-piece. A confused hea‘p lay upon the snow.
Yells, curses and groans filled the air.

One man fled own the pass, his right arm
dangling helplessly by his side, The other three
dotted the blood-stained river. Their earthly
race was run.

Mountain Kate sprung after the fleeing out-
law, but (paused at the second leap. She stood
undecide , a glance at him, then at Frank.

A groan from the young trapper decided
her. She sprung to his side and raised his head
to her lap, pressing her lips passionately to his
forehead.

Frank opened his eyes and she shrunk back,
ain—she bent for-
ward and repeated the act. hen their gaze met.
One moment thus, and then their lips were
pressed together in the first kiss of pure love.

«nal from Dandy

 

The passionate warmth of his caress alarmed
Kate, and she shrunk back. Frank arose to his
feet, unsteadily, this time, yet very unlike a
dying man.

But this was not wholly a miracle wrought by
love. Though the traitor’s aim had been true
:Eough, Frank’s course was not to be ended

ere.

The bullet, striking a rib, had glanced aside,
instead of piercing his heart, as intended. The
shock had caused him to swoon; the touch of
love’s warm lips had awakened him to life.

Their words, their actions for the next few
minutes need not be recorded here. Mountain
Kate had recently acted like 8. ve heroine.
Now, she acted like a woman, whose cart was
made for loving. Believing Frank dead, she
had proclaimed her love; seeing him alive she
would have denied this, but he gave her no
chance to do so. Then, womanlike, she ielded.

Kate noticed the blood dripping from ank’s
side, and womanlike again, made an outcry.
He proceeded to stanch it in a hasty manner,
while she turned toward the three outlaws.

Two of these were quite dead. The third——
Tom Taylor—lived, though the ghastly face and
livid lips told how nigh he was to his earthly
end. As Frank came forward, the traitor
gnashed his teeth and cursed him bitterly.

With a Eitying glance Frank stooped and

laced his end in a more comfortable position.
is traits those of the serpent, the dying man
dealt one more blow.

Mountain‘Kate screamed as the bared steel
flashed in the light. But it was a dying effort,
and the knife—point only grazed the trapper’s
side. Ere his weapon struck the snow-crust, the
trapper’s spirit had fled. He was dead.

Drawing to one side the lovers—for such they
were, now in words as in heart—convened
earnestly. Their speech need not be detailed:
in substance, it was the same as that already re-
corded.

Frank pleaded his cause warmly; Kate resist-
ed. She would not desert her father. While he
lived, her place was with him. The only con-
cession that Frank could obtain was that when
this duty was ended she would come to him.

“But now you must go—I have been ve
foolish. One of them escaped. and will hasten
to tell father all. He will come with more men
to kill you. Flee, Frank, I pray you, go!”

“ But you—he wilI—”

“ No——he will not harm me. I am safe from in-
jury, though his anger will be fearful. Go—go!”

“ I will. But you will remember to-morrow,
at the hill, Where we hide?”

“Yes_yes‘n

Their lips met and then they parted. Frank
glided away through the plum thicket and took

- a roundabout course toward the cave.

Half-way hence Mountain Kate met with a
party of outlaws. With loud cries they rushed
toward her, but quickly paused, shrinkingly,
betore her leveled pistol.

“Keep your distance, do ,” and her voice
rung out clear as a bell. “ will go to the vil-
la e, but not by force.” ~ .

wo of the outlaws fell in behind her, at a sig-
George. The others hastened
on toward the valley.

 

mun-av . -

 

 

Prank Yates, the Young Trapper. 2h

 

Mountain Kate smiled. She knew that by
this time her lover was far away, and safe from
them at least.

 

CHAPTER XI.
TOBE TURNS MOLE.

THAT day was destined to be another mo-
mentous one in Tobe Castor’s calendar. With
Frank he had set forth in quest of revenge, but
as they separated, be turned toward the dug-out,
knowing this would be the point most likely to
be watched by the enemy, and here he believed
would be found the traitor, whose heart would
be hot for revenge upon the man who had treat—
ed him with such scant ceremony.

For fully three hours Castor reconnoitered the
“ dug-out,” before crossing the river. and even
then would not have ventured, only for the ac‘
tions of old Turk, who until now had not been
seen by him since the ambush. He knew now
that the dug—out was clear.

Tobe found it much as he had left it, and
selecting such articles as he most needed, he
scaled the hill, and crouching in the niche, close-
ly watched the hut. But as the hours rolled on
without the desired appearance, Castor resolved
to change his base.

While descending the hill, the crackling snow
drowned a suspicious sound that otherwise would
have caught his ear—the sound of distant firing.
Had he heard them, Tobe would have avoided
the danger into which he now walked, as it
were, blindfolded.

Half an hour later Castor turned the corner
of a hill, and stood in full view of a number of
men, whose arms and garb proclaimed them
members of Carl Shensen’s band. They were
those under the lead of Dandy George, who
were searching for Frank Yates.

Tobe (lodged back, quick as thought, but too
late. A triumphant yell from the outlaws told
him they had observed the action, and were
upon his track. .

Castor wheeled and fled. His feet slipped
upon the glazed snow-crust, and he fell heavily
at full length. Almost at a rebound, he was
upon his feet, but then he found that the fall
had severely sprained one of his ankles.

Half a dozen lcaps told the old trapper this
was no trifling injury. He knew that flight was
now out of the uestion. The light—footed out-
laws must speedi y overhaul him.

“ But they must fight for it,” he gritted, as he
turned to the left, where grew a dense clump of
plum-brush.

The exultant cries of those in pursuit told
plainly that they had noticed Castor’s lameness,
and augured from it an easy victory. Tobe
smiled grimly as he heard their vomes, and then
a bright glow filled his eyes. .

Quickly turning, hls long rifle rose to a level,
and with its crack a Shl‘leK of death-agony
came, telling that the first blow had been struc
with significant efl’ect. An answering volley
came, but the Mary trapper begzgsuged hls
fli ht, dod in an eaplng In 3 21¢ _ “1191‘,
219% a derisgiveg yell from the_fug1t1ve told the
outlaws that their aim had failed.

Several used to reload, but others drew
their revo vets and dashed 01L Then Tobe
turned at bay.

 

Knowing how hopeless flight would be, he had
headed toward a small clum of plum-brush
that thickly stud the region ealt with. where
be resolved to make the best fl ht he could. At
its edge he paused and fire two shots, then
darted under shelter.

From this his revolvers spoke rapid! , and
the charge of the outlaws was check . Sue of
their number fell, death-stricken. Another
cursed horribly as he nursed his broken arm.
Still another shot came, stinging Dandy George
in a sensitive spot, when the outlaws turned and
retreated hastily, until at a oint without
range, or else taking advantage 0 such hollows '
and drifts as would afford them shelter from the
pitiless aim of the trapper.

Castor uttered a loud laugh of taunting
triumph at this, and then busied himself with
reloading his weapons. But then a shade fell
upon his face.

One of the outlaws suddenlly sprung up and
dashed away from the spot. obe threw up his
rifle and fired, but with a derisive shout, the
man sped on, untouched. ,

The Object of this move was plain. He had
been diSpatched to the village for assistance,-
while his comrades remained to keep the trap-
per at bay, and prevent his flight.

“ The cowardly val-mints!” gritted Castor.
“ Thai-’5 seven 0’ the imps, an’ yit they’re afeard
0’ one man.”

Several shots were now discharged at the
clump of brush by the outlaws, in the evident
hope of disabling the dreaded foe, and more
than one hissed uncomfortably close to the trap-
per’s head, as he crouched low down. His fer-
tile wit quickly divineda method of guarding
against this peril. ‘

His stout knife quickly pierced the snow-crust,
and then, crowding the soft dr snow aside,
Castor crouched down in the hoe thus made, .
his head then being brought to a level with the
unbroken crust beyond. Tobe could laugh at
their shots now; only a resolute charge could
dislod e him, and that he know would not be
made fore the arrival of reinforcements. .

“Ef the brush war only more of it, or of
the imps wasn’t scattered so much, I’d try to
retch the river thar,” and Tobe glanced wistful-
ly behind him. “ The bank is plentylhigh, an’ I
could sneak ’iong behind thet hill. 8.! a dum-
cd fool ye be, Tobe Castor, not to ’a’ thunk on
thet store. He! he! we‘ll fool the varmints
yit!” and the trapper laughed long and loudly,
no doubt greatly to the surprise of his enemies,
who ured a hasty volley Into the thicket.

To e slung his rifle upon his back, and careful-
ly placed both revolvers inside his close wam mus.

1th one look around him, as though taking his
bearings, the trapper ducked his head, and
plunged into the snow beneath the thick crust!

This was the happy thought that caused his '
laugh. He believed that he could yet foil his
enemies, by turning mole!

The snow beneath the crust was light and dry,
hence it was not so diflicult as one might imagine
for the sturdy trapper to force his way through
it, as both hands were at liberty.

In fifteen minutes’ time he had traversed the
distance required and suddenl breaki throu h
the snow, he tumbled head- oremost own 9

 

 

 

 

 

30

Frank Yates, the Young Trapper.

 

river-bank. Fortunately, the noise of his fall
was not overheard, and then, crouching low
down, he glided cautiously along until hidden
behind a hill.

After this, there was nothing to delay him,
and when nearing the hill-curve, he heard the
wild cries of anger behind him, telling that his
ruse had been discovered. ,

When the hole was discovered, the outlaws be-
lieved their prey safe within their pOWer, but an
investigation revealed the truth, Then Carl
Shensen swore a bitter oath that he would yet
slay the trapper, though it cost him his own life.

“Yell on, ye houn‘s,” muttered Tobe, as he
gained the cave-entrance. “Smarter men nor
you be hev bin fooled by Tobe Castor.”

Entering, he found Frank Yates awaiting his
coming, eager to reveal his momentous tidings.

 

CHAPTER XII.
UNTIL DEATH!
TOBE’s excitement was great when Frank told

the story of his adventures. A fierce litter of
trium hant jo filled his eyes as he eard of
Tom aylor’s eath.

“ Wal, now that he’s paid up, thar’s nothin’
left fer it but to travel. hate like e-rnently to
run, but we’d be durned fools to stic it out any
longer. They’re too many fer us to han’le. Best
git read to make tracks to -ni ht, Frank.”

But ates demurred. He to d Tobe of the ap-

intment made for the marrow with Mountain

te, and declared that he would not go until
after that had been kept.

“ Thar ye go, Frank,” said Castor, seriously.
“ It’s like you hot-heads. Thet gal ’11 be the
death 0’ you yit. The varmints ’11 watch her,
an’ so it you, fer sure.”

But ates was stubborn, and Tobe, though
greatly against his judgment, was forced to
yield the point.

When Mountain Kate reached the outlaw vil-

e. she was met by her father in silence, and
l to her room. Then, with closed doors, a
stormy scene ensued.

Half-drunk, Shensen spoke as he had never
before addressed her. HIS words were not only
harsh and stem, but even insulting.
High-spirited Kate retorted. One word led to
anot er, until, frightfully angered, Carl Shensen
raised his hand and struck his child a fearful
blow, full in the face.

She fell at his feet, bleeding and senseless. He
stoodas it turned to stone. Then falling upon
his knees beside her, he wept and raved, striv-
ing to restore her to consciousness, but for some
time in vain.

When her senses returned, Kate shrunk from
him in loathing. As he implored her pardon,
she pointed to t e door, and nwed by her still an-
ger, Shensen, left her alone, though barring the
door behind him.

Kate secured the door upon her side, and then,
after a long deliberation, set to work. By night-
fall she had out spam e nearly through the fre. il
wall, and then si ting own, waited hr the prop-
er time to put her resolve into execution.

Mountain Kate had weighed the matter well
and caused by her father’s brutal behavior ha

\,

determined toaeek peace and happiness in dight.

/:’

 

Better trust in the truth and care of the young
traplper than remain to live such a life as this.

S e removed the severed bark, and emerged
from the hut. At the same point where Tobe
Castor had fled down the hillside, she cautlously
descended, and thus followed the canyon to the
river.

While looking for the points indicated by
Frank, 8. significant sound startled her. It came
from the outlaw village, and from the faint yells,
the rifle-shots so rapidly following each other, she
knew that the encampment had been attacked.

While in doubt whether to flee or go back,
for now that he was in danger, Kate’s love for
her father returned, the form of a white man up-

ared before her. The shriek that rose to her
lips was checked as she recognized Frank Yates,
and then thg were clasped in outstretched arms,
while Tobe astor looked on in open-mouthed as-
tonishment.

That night wore wearin away, the refugees
feeling considerable anxiety as to the result of
the conflict, though from widely differing mo-
tives. At last Tobe could not resist the pleadings
of Mountain Kate,and ventured forth to discover
the truth.

By cautious reconnoitering he succeeded. The
village had been surprised by the Cheyennes,
guided by the survivors of the former attack
and, though fighting desperately, the outlaws ha
been defeated—almost massacred, it might be
added, for not one of the band escaped the slaugh-
ter, though many a dusky warrior first fell be-
fore their arms.

Kate’s anguish was reat when she heard the
trapper’s report. She ad truly loved her father,
and now that he was dead, she only remembered
his kindness and acts of love. Worn out by grief,
she sobbed herself to sleep.

Not until the third day did the refugees ven-
ture from their retreat. Then a fearful sight
met their gaze as they visited the plateau. Tm
but had all been burned to the ground. Every-
where lay scattered the polished bones of men,
while hosts of wolves still slunk around the spot
where had been given such a glorious feast.

Scattered over the plains were a number of
horses, that had escaped the Cheyennes, and four
of these. were soon caught. One was burdened
with the traps and such pelts as had heed saved,
while our three friends rode the others.

Though meeting: with many adventures and
enduring great suffering, the ittle party reach-
ed Fort Laramie in safety. Here they became
snowbound, and winter setting in with unusual
severity, they were forced to resign all hopes of
reaching the States until spring.

Frank had little difficulty, under the circum-
stances, in persuading Kate to under oa certain
ceremony, in which the chaplain of t e fort had
a good deal to say, and we can safely state that
never before had that old station been the scene
of such gayety as on this occasion.

We need on] add that in the spring Frank
took his lovely ride home, where she was kind-
ly welcomed. '1' hey still reside in St. Louis, hap-
py and contentedsurroundml by a goodly family.

Tobe Castor still manipulates the traps, and
from him in person many of these facts have
been gleaned.

' \THE END.

 

 

* ‘r‘M 

 

 

 

 

1 Heel-hunter, the Boy Scout 0! the Grant North Woods.
liv Ull Comm-s.

2 Buffalo Bill, from Boyhood toMnnhood. By Col. Pren~
tit: inzrnhnxn.

8 Kit Carson, King.y of Guides. By Albert W. Aiken.

4 Gordon Lillie, the Boy-Interpreter oi' the inneel. By
Major. H. B. Stoddard.

5 Bruin Adorn-.Old Grizzly'l Boy Pnrd. By Colonel
Pruntils lngrnhum.

6 Deadwood Dick us alioy. By Edward L. Wheeler.

7 “'illi Bill, the Pistol Prime. By Colonel Prentiu;
Inurnhmn.

8 The Prairie Ranch. By Joseph E. Hilfiger, Jr.

9 Roving Joe: The History oi‘n “ Border Buy.” By A.
H. Post.

10 Texan Jack. the Mnstlng King. By Colonel Prentisl
lngrnlnun.

11 Charley Skylurk. A Stnry of School-day Scrape: and
Cullnge Capers. liy lilnjnr ll. ll. slimllllfl'ii-

12 Mllflpotln Marsh. By Joahnh E. Ilndgn-r, Jr.

13 Roving Ben. By John J. Marshall.

14 Snrluz Steel, King of the Bush. liy J. E. Bridger, Jr.

15 ‘Vufliltf-‘Ilhwllkl‘ George, the Buy Pioneer. By Edward
1 P

16 The Boy “'izau-tl. llv llnrvy Rinzgold.

17 pow,- Peppex'flrelnh, tin: Graenliorn from Gotham. By
Noni] Null.

l8 Adriil. on the I’rnlrlc. mm Amateur Hunter:
on the Buifnlo “mum. By Oil Coomes.

19 The Fortune Hunter; ur, Rovin Joe on Miner,
C..whoy,'l‘ru1r]unr mullinnlor. By A. . a .

20 Trapper Tom. the Woml Imp. By ’I‘. C. Harbaugh.

21 Yellow Hair, the Boy Chlnfof tna Pawnau. By Col.
Prentiss Ingr'nhxnn.

22 The Snow Trnll. By T. C. Haronngh.
23 0¥l Gfilzziy Admins, the Bear Tamer. By Dr. Frank
0W0 ~

24 Wootlfl um! \Vntern. By Capt. Frederick Whitmksr.

25 A Rolling- Stnno t Inuiuenil ln thr Cureer on Sea and
Land ni Col. l‘rent‘mu lnurnlnnn. liy Wm. ll. Eyltvr.

26 Red River Rovcrn. Dy (7. Dunnian Cimk.

27 Plaza nnd_l’lnlnz or. “’th Adventnrn ni“‘Buckaln
Stun.” (Mir). Sum. S. l-lnll.) liy Uni. l’. lngrnhnm.

28 The Sword Prim-c. '1 lm Rmnnntir. Life of Col. Mon-
itory. liy Cnpt. li'radr'l -k \VhitLKuh

29 Snow-Shoe Tom. l‘_ C. iinrlmngh.

3i) Pnul dc Lucy, the Frunuh lienut Charmer. By C.
Dunning Clur '.

81 Round the Cump Fire. llv Juriele E. Badger, Jr.

8’} “'hlte Beaver, tho lndinn Medicine Chief. By Col.
l’runliu lnzruinm.

88 The Boy Crusader. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

84 The Chm-e of the Grout “'hlto Mug, and, Camp
und Canoe. By C. Dunning (‘lnrk.

85 0h] 'l‘ur Knuckle and HI! Buy (‘illlllll- By R. Sturhuch.

86 The flushing- Dragoon; nr. The Story oi'Gan. George
A. Custer. lly Culrl. Fred. Whlttnhor.

81’ Night-Hawk George. By Col. Prentiss Ingralum.

38 The Boy Exile: of Siberia. By 'I‘. C. llnrlmngh.

89 The Young Benr Hunters. By Morrl- Redwlng.

40 Smart. Sim, the Lad with a Lore] Head. By Edwnrd
Willett.

41 The Si-ttler's Son. By Edward S. Ellil.

43 Walt Ferguflon’n Orulue. By C. Dunning Clark.

48 Biile and Revolver. By Clpi. Fred. Whittaker.

 

 

 

!

 

44 The Lost Boy Whalers. Bv T. C. Hub-ugh.

45 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Colannhnn.

46 Dick, the Stowaway. By Ch-rle- Merril-

47 The Colorado Boys; or,Lifo on on Indigo Pluution.
liy Joseph E. limluer, Jr.

48 The Pumpus Hunters; or, New York Boys in
liuenon Ayrm By T. C. Huh-ugh.

49 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska Charlie.
By Col. Prentiss lnzrnhnm.

50 Jul-k. Hurry and Tom, the Thug Chomplon Broth-n.
By Capt. Frld. Whittnher.

51 Tile Young Land-Luhber. By C. Dunning Clnrk.

52 The Boy lbeteet-ivel. By T. C. Huh-ugh.

{)3 Honest Hurr ; or. The Country Boy Adrift in tho
(lily. liy Char on Morrll.

54 Cnili‘orniu Joe, the Mysterious Plnlnlmon. By Col.
Prentiss llrgrnlnnn.

55 Tip Trestle]. the Floater. By Edvard Willatt.

56 The Snow Hunters; or, \Vintarln tho Woodo. By
llnrry lie Forrest.

5’? Hurry Sinners, the Sailor Boy Magician. By S. W.
l’enrco.

58 The Adventuroun Life oi’ Cu tuln Jack, the
lionlur Buy. By Col. Prantlu lngrn mm.

59 Llune' Tim, the Mule Boy of the Minn. Ry Chlrlu

Ul’l'iB. ‘

60 The Young Trnll Hunters; or, New York Boy: in
Grizzly Lnud. By '1'. C. Hurhnngh.

61 The ’l‘i er Hunter or, The Colnrndo Boyl in El:-
ylmnt and. By Jolup E. Budgor.Jr.

62 Doctor Carver, the “ Evil Spirit " o! tho Plalnl. By
Col. Prentiu lng uhnm.

68 Black Hone Bill, the Bandit Wrocker. By Roger
Stnrhuc .

64 Young Dick Tnlbnt; or‘A Boyl Rough uni Tumble
Fight {rum New York to Loliiornin. By A. \V. Milan.

“5 The Boy Pilot; or, The kind Wrochor. By Col.
l‘runtiu lnumiuun.

66 Th1l Desert Rover nr, Siouuuy Dink Among tho
Arnhn. By Charles 1\ orril.

ii? Texan Charlie, the Boy Ranger. By Col. Prontiu
Inuuilmm.

68 Llltlt- Rifle; or, The Young Fur Hunters. By Capt-lo
“ llruin " Arinml.

69 The Young Nihilisii or, A Yunku Boy Among tho
llnsainnl. lly Chnrloo ) urns.

7‘0 l'onv the Cowboy; or, The Young Mlnhlil'l Md.
liy Mujur u. n. so. nrd, lax-scout.

71 It“? Robnurt and Hin Bear. By Coptoln "Bruin "

i ll".-

79 The Ice Elephant. By Cunt. Frederick Whituku.

fl) The Young Moon-Hunters. By Willim H.
Manning.

74 The Boy Coral-Fiche". Hy Rmar Storhuek.

75 Revolver Billy, tho Boy Ranger 0! Tom. By Col.
Prantlll lnzruhlln.

76 The Condor Killers. By T. C. Horhnu'h.

f? Lud Lionhecln, the Young Tiger Fightor. By Rom
Stnrhuck.

78 Flntbont Fred. By Edwlrd Willett

79 Boone, the lluntol’. By Coptaln F. Whituhr.

Bendle'n Boy's Library In for all. hy nll Kurd-aim,
five mm per copy, or unt by will on rec-[pt ohix unto out.

maan AND ADAMS, Paul-hen.
08 Willinn Street, New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

//

80 Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Casmules. By  122 The Emulmnux’ Queen, 0,, The 1“)..wa of the

Roger Siarhuck.
81 The Kit Onruon Club. By T. C. Harbaugh.
82 Little Buck the Rev Guide. By llarry llingguld,
88 Pony Bob he Reckless Rider oi the Rockies. B)- Col.
Prentiss lynahnm.
84 Captain ly-h -nght. By Joseph E. Bridger, Jr.
85 C: :1“ Rain , the Young Explorer. By C. Dunning
‘ ar .
86 Little Dnn Koch's.
87 The MennFL-rle Hunters.
88 The B?
. M. o

liy Morris Rerlwing.

ny Mu'. H. Grenville.
’ ramps; or, Lii'e Among the Gipsies. By
ifurun.
89 ’Longshoro Lilo. B, C. D. Clark.

90 Roving Rille,(.uster’s Little Scout. By T. C. Hsrlnmixh.
91 Oregon Josh, the Wizard Rifle. By Roger Sinrbuck.
9% Hurricane Kit. By A. F. Holt.

93 Jumping Jake, the Colorado Circus Boy. By Bryant

Bnlnbridgs.
94 Sam Spence, the Broadhom Boy. By Ed. Willem.

95 Moscow to Siberia; or, A Yankee Boy to the Rescue.
By Charles Morris.

93 F1 htin Fred; or The Custawu sof Grizzl Cum».
1351". anmbmh. ' y y 1

91 Cruise 01' the Flyawuy; or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon.
By C. Dunning Clark.

98 The Boy Vigilante-s; 0131(ng Cole and His Bani].
By Maj. H. B. Stoddmd.

99 The White Tigers; or, Silver Rifle, the Girl Trucker
oanlie Superior. By Capt. Charles Howard.

100 The Snow-Shoe Trail; or, The Forest Desperado».
By St. George Ruthhone. '

101 Mal-1mm, the Ottawa Girl; or, The Mysterious Canon.
By Edward S. Ellis.

102 The F1 'nwn Afloat: or, Yankee Boys ‘liound the
World. y C. unnini: Clark.

108 Put linlloney’e Adventures; or, Silver Tongue
the Dacotah Queen. ‘liy C. L. Edwards.

104 The Boy Prospector; or. The Secret of the Sierra
Ravine. By Roger Starburk.

105 Minonee the Wood Witch; or, The Squauor’s Secret.

~ By Edwin merson.

106 The Bx“! Cruisers; or, Joe and .inp‘s Big Find. By
Edward 'illett.

107 The Border Rovers: or, Loui- on the Overland
Trail. By J. Milton llnfl‘nisn.

103 Alaska, the Wolf-Quesn' or. The Girty llmthers’
Double Crime. By Capt. l ownrd Lincoln.

109 ghfiifiunn Jim, the White Man’s Friend. By Edward

. s.

'110 {lucky Joe. the Bay Avenger: or, Dick Bullnunt’s

Iss1 Ride. By J. Milton llofl'man.

111 The Border Gunmukcr; or, The Hunted Maiden.
By James L. liowen.

119 Lel’t-Ilunded Pete, the Dmilrlc-Knlie.
E. Badger, Jr.

118 The River Rifle-3 or, The Fate urihe Flaihoui. 13;:
Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

114 Alone on the Plninl. By Edward Wllleti.

115 fillver Horn, and His Rifle Firodesth. lly Roger
Sterbuck.

116 ExlElolts of Hezekiah Smith, the Buckwuodsmsn.
By mersun Rodnmn.

111' The Young Mustnn oral or, Dick Merry'n Rang-
ers. By C. Distilling (‘lar .

118 0111 Traps; or, the Boy Rlvnls. By Barry Rinugnld.

119 Center Shot. ills White (‘rmv; or, Roving Riile’s
First Clinpaign. By T. C. llsrhaugh.

180 A not Trail; or, Clark CloverlyAmong the Tarim-s.
By Charles Morrls.

121 Hunter Pal-d Ben; or, The Wskuh’s Blind Leml.
By Roger Starbuck.

lly Jolt-[Ill

 

Lone llut. By G.Walilo Browne.

128 Tins, the Boy Acrobat; or, Life in tho (‘ircus Ring.
Charles Morris.

124 Queers Besslc, the Border Girl. liv llonry J.Thomas.

125 Tom Tnlmr, the ivy Fauili or. The Young Lynch-
(lung “ mm..." lly llarry nggu :i.

Mlnk Font, tlii‘ Dmih-Shnt; or, The Spring of the

Tiger. liy Jus. E. limluer, Jr.

The Deer Hunters. By John J. Marshall.

“Vow-Cup; or, The Night-Hawks of the Fire-Lands.

By Capt. Cline. Howard.

Sllverspur; or, The lilountnin Heroine.

VVilletl.

130 Keetscu, Quien oi the Plains. By Percy Ii. St. John.‘

131 Wiatnh, the Child Spy. 13y George (Hermon.

18% Tile Inland Trnpperg nr,Tho Young \l'liiie-Bumilo
limiters. By Churles liowunl.

138 The Forcut Specter; or, The Young Hunter‘s Foe.
By Edward Willeil.

134 ‘1'“(1 Nut, the Trooper. By “'m. R. Eystrr.

135 The Silver Bu In; or, Thu linliun Maiden of St.
(.‘roix. liy Lieui. 'ol. lluzeltun.

186 The I’rnlrle Trapper. By 1'1. Dunning Clark.

18’? The Antelope Boy. By Geo. L. Aiken.

188 Long Shot; or, The Dwarquhle. By Cath‘unuitock.

189 Colonel Crockett, the Bear King. By (‘hnries E.
Lusnllc.

140 Old Poms, the Mountaineer; or, The Trapper Rivals.
By Lewis \V. Carson.

141 The Giant limiter: or. The Mad Scourge of the
Kivlaapuos. By Hurry lluzard.

142 Bluck Panther, the Half-Blood.
Ilailgsr, Jr.

148 Carson, the Guide; or, Perils cftlie Frouiier. By Lieut
J.H. Rnlnlulpll.

144 Kent, the Ranger; orY The Fugitives nl‘ihe Border. By
Eilwnrd 5. Ellis.

145 “Ill Rnhhinl, Hunter; or, The Man in erva. By

Eilwnnl \\'lllull.

The llnll'Jh-eod lilvul; or. The Tangled Trnil.

13;;  E. llzulgci', Jr.

147 The Masked Avenger. By ('nl. Prentiss Ingrahnm.

14S Nat. the Trapper and Indian Fighter. 15y l’sul J.
Pix-stun.

149 The Elk Demon; or, The Giant llrrihlrs.
C. iimlmugh.

150 The Roy Musiun -llunier: or. Eaulnlie, the
Beautiful Amazon. liy ‘roderick Whiitnker.

151 Frank Yules, the Young Trapper; or, Mountain
Kate's Vi'arning. By Jusepll E. inducer, Jr.

152 111111 Rats-n. ilm Smut: (vr, Blane-ha, the Ureilaml
Maiden. My Oil ‘ noun-s.

153 Lynx-(lisp; or, Four Trupp-‘rs’ Ailvvniuh-n wiih iiu:
Sioux. lly l’nul llihhs. Ready Mun'h 19.

151 The (‘Imnailon Tean Illilcr: nr. Ri-d Buifaiu,
Hm lli-rruli-s unixi'. By Harry 5L. lie-urge.
llrsilv Murch 26.

155 Dusky lPlck'n Doom or. ’l‘nhe Chaim, thn ()ld
Sunni. By Joe. E. Banister, r Ready April 2.

156 Frank Bell, the Tiny Spy: 01', Th" Myst-Arum: flux of
Crystal Lake. [ly ()ll Cumulus. Ready April ii.

By

126
12’?

129 By Edward

By J oseph E.

146

By T.

Beadle’l Boy‘s Library is for snlo  ull Newsllealers,
fivo cents per copy, or sent hy mail on receipt of six cents earh.

BEADLE AN D ADAMS, Publishers,
98 “’11le Street, New York.