July 9, 1887. Vol.XIII. “b11915: mtggggegggsgggdam’ No. 168. “0N8 msvm WAS NOT ENOUGH AND YOU HELPED omsxs ON IT. BEG MY PM.” The Specter Spy. v The Specter Spy; ' / THE WIZARD CANOE. " j ‘ BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON, — AQTHOB or “OLD rues, THE MOUNTAIN< ' EER,” ETC., ETC. .‘ CHAPTER I. V THE SPECTER SPY. ' Two men were lying at the foot of alittle :; v slope, upon the St. Lawrence River, a few miles below the city of Montreal. Both were in tho ’ service of the English, but one were the uniform of a’private and the other was dressed as a cap- : tain of rifles. The private was a dark-brewed, "moody-looking man, with a savage eye and a 6‘ heavy, muscular frame—-a man from whom we . would shrink instinctively if we met him in a dark i wood at night, or in any solitary place. Hisonly weapons were a. heavy rifle and a long knife, with horseman’s pistols in a black belt. His compan- ion was ounger/than he with rather a prepos- sessing ace at'flrst sight, but which did not show any great force of character. Indeed, he » , looked like a man who was not naturally bad, 7? 4 ' but who, could easily be led to ’deeds of evil. « r ~ Threiy were reclining at their case upon the soft 1, in ,.ta.lk1ug with a familiarity which seemed ‘ strange in a British captain and a private. ‘ I “You say there is such a man as the Specter Spy, Cline?” said the captain. . “ No doubt of it, Captain Haverly. I’ll tell - on about it as far as I 'now, though I can’t say ' I, understand it myself. You know what I am '—a reckless dare-devil, who would not like to have all his old deeds raked up against him, and you know why. I’ve done some bad things in , my time, because the world has used me rough- v 1y. Else, why am I, a man of education and good family, a scrub for men to wipe their dirty set on, honored by being chosen by Captain .Wharton Haverly as his servant? Much of the evil I'have done has been on this account. I’ll 'tell you none of my deeds, but that the Specter Spy exists: there can be no doubt. He has haunted me for three years.” _ u Why?” \ “ How can I tell? I only know that this devil » makes my life a burden to me, and I would give "all I am or eVer hope to be if he were either proved to be a human being and put safely un— der the sod, or I could lay his ghost." ‘. “Some one to whom you have given the coup _) dc grace in some of your expeditions has doubt- ,. less risen from the grave to haunt you,” said , Havel-1y, laughing. ' / “ You may at it if you like," said Cline, f‘hutvif you waked at night to 896 that y gigantic form standing in the darkness of your tent with all its hideous deformity, you would notlaugh.” . “ Ha! ha! ha!” shrieked a. voice close at hand. ,: .“ He fears the Specter Spy. Ha l, hal ha!” 1' , v Both men bounded to their feet and dashed (into the thicket behind them, in the direction 01 When they had gone a little dis- tance, seeing no trace of the stranger, both lis- tened. Not a sound was heard save the rush of the flowing river and the sighing of the wind’ through the branches of the trees. They looked at each other in surprise and alarm, when that uncarthly lau h sounded again near the place they had just eft. Darting hastily back, they were again unsuccessful, for their unknown enemy, if enemy it was, could be seen nowhere. Mutteringr an angry curse at the illitrudcr, they stopped again and looked about t )0“). “ This is very strange,” said Huverly. “You will find it so. This is the Specter Spy. I know that unearthly laugh too well to mistake him for any one else. I shall go mad if this continues, for upon my soul he is wearing mo out. Tim-o years 1 have endured this daily and nightly visitation, and I can not explain it.” 1‘ Ha! ha! hal” roared the voice. “Bah! he fears the Specter Spy. Ha! ha! ha!” “ He is/hiddou near at hand," cried Haverly, “Let us search about the place. It shall go hard with me but I will find the villain out.” “ You can not,” whispered Cline, turning his awe-Struck face slowly in every direction. “ It is vain to attem it it, for I know thatIhave often vainly searched, after he had been in my quarters. He will beat them up to—night.” “,yVhy, do you think the Yankees are com- in r? ‘ Do I think so? Did I not tell you that they are coming?” “ I know you told me. but your report was so vague that I could hardly credit your story.” “ I tell you that I know,” replied the other, fiercely. “Don’t dare to insult me by saying that my report is not true. Montgomery, and we have no braver general, 110, nor one nearly as brave in our ranks, has sent that hot-blooded hut brave giant, Colonel Ethan Allen, of the colony of Vermont, or rather what is called the Hampshire Grants, to arouse our people to re- bellion. I tell you there is no one upon our frontier who has so much influence among our people, and we must fear him, because—” “Ha! ha! ha!" shouted a voice not twenty yards away, near the river-hunk. “ You fear Ethan Allen, too. Ha! ha! ha! Beware the Specter Spy l” Nearly frantic with rage and fear, the two men dashed up the stream in the direction of the voice, searching m/erywheae, in the thickets, in the rushes along the banks, but without success. They roamed vaguely up unvl down for half an hour, and hearing no more of the spy, turn- ed their steps toward Montreal again. They were upon the American side of the stream, and canie out of the woods upon a point, directly opposite the idnnd and city of Montreal. / Be— tween them and the city lay the beautiful little island of St. Helen’s. upon which was built two heavy stone buildings, formerly the property of the Barons of Longueuil. A canoe was drawn up on the bank, and Wharton Havel-1y took his seat in the bow, while Cline lifted the paddle and sent the light craft whirling from the shore. As it touched the bench of the island. for they did not propose to go to the city itself, Wharton sprung out and pulled it further up. . Cline no": V left the canoe, and’lifting it in their arms they ,/ ‘9‘ ‘\' ‘2 -\ -_P‘-,. . ,‘j The Specter Spy. Y 8 carried it to a covered shed where it would be protected from the sun, and turned toward the smaller of the two buildings upon the island nearest the city. From this point a good view couldbe obtained of the city, with its heavy walls and battlements, from which the grim cannon protruded, its spires pointing upward, and the flag of England floating from thosquaro turret upon the northern side. Haverly was deeply annoyed by the strange adventure with the Specter Spy, and did not know how to ac- count for it. Cline, who had suffered before from his haunting visitation, said nothing about 1 . “ You think this fellow will come here to- ni ht?" said Haverly. ‘ I have not the slightest doubt of it,” replied Cline. ‘ “ But, how is he to know whether we have gone to the island or the city 1” “ A common man could have found that out by watching us; but the Specter Spy could find me anywhere.” “ Tush! I did not think you could be so fool- ish,” said Haverly. “ I am astonished that you should allow superstition to take so strong hold of; Sn.” an you ex lain the m star ’1” “Not just nolwz biit—” y y “ Could we find him when we looked for him? And yet it seemed as if scarcely twenty paces separated him from us. You call me super- stitious, when you yourself are shaking with fear that he will pay you a visit.” “You are bold, sir. Do you know to whom you are talking?” ‘I‘ Certainly,” was the cool reply. “ A rather opinionated personage, a captain in the British Army under the worshipful Guy Carleton, with the worthy General Prescott in command at Montreal. But, opinionated as this worthy in- dividual is, he dare not, for his life, insult High Private Cline of the rifles.” Haverly was ghastly pale and once or twice laid his hand upon his sword—hilt, and made an attempt to draw it from the scabbard. But, the fierce glance which Cline bent upon him made him c ange his purpose, and it dropped back into its sheath. “Nonsense, captain,” said Cline, insolently. “ We know our relative positions well enough to understand that, fallen though I am, from the high social standing I once occupied, I am not to be put upon or insulted by any person or persons upon whom the sun shines, and that I would cut the man’s throat from ear to car. who (hired to put as much as the weight of a flu or upon me in anger. Besides, I have anot or hold upon you." v “,Don’t speak of it, Cline," said the young man. “ Come, now, he a good fellow. You know I was just ‘oking, and never meant to draw the sword. ut, you really forget what is due for a man in your station in life, however undeserved, to one in mine.” “ forget nothing when it is necessary to be cautious. I only do this as a warning to you, to beware what you say to me. Let us get back to what we were saying, and never mind dig» ni'v; you can stand upon that, when any'of the other officers are here. If they Visit us “to-night, l I' '\._ for instance, you will find me your most faithful and obedient servant. But to the Specter Spy. He will surely come to—night.” , “ I do not think so.” “1 will forfeit my life upon his coming.” “ Very good: than we will be pro ared for his excellency’s appearance. I mean 0 try if the worthy is pist< 11- n'oof." “ You cannot it him." “ I can at least try my best. If I fail, after having a good shot at him, you shall say 'with truth be isa spirit and nota mortal. I never miss my mark. But, I do not believe that we shall see him at all. “ You will sec.” “ Where are the men?” “ In the house.” “ I will go in and speak to them." He opened the door of the house and went in, leaving Cline lounging on the steps. Passing dewn a long hall, 9 entered a room at the lower side, where five men were seated about a low table eating their noontide meal. They were soldiers of the rifles in Haverly’s company. - They had thrown off their belts and caps, and" were discussing the merits of a knuckle of bacon, washed down by strong coffee, with infinite zest. ' ' Hearing the captain’s step, all looked up, and . seeing their officer, rose and saluted. ‘ “ Be mtcd, men,” said Haverly. “ Sergeant , Woodhouse whom do you propose to post upon the river side of the island to-night?” "Private Willis, sir,” replied the sergeant, saluting again, ' . “A good soldier. Then understand your, ‘ ‘ orders, private Willis. I have reason for sus-‘ Vcting a Yankee spy up this wayto—night. on will be on the alert, and if you see any thing suspicious you will notgive any loud alarm, but pass the word for me, unless the danger is very pressing, in which case you Will tire of course.” ‘ ~ ,. ‘ “Yes, sir,” said private Willis. “ I will re- member what you say.” ' “ I have es ecial reason for wishing to take, this fellow. e is the notorious Specter Spy.” , “ The dam e!” cried Sergeant Woodhouse. “ Beg pardon for using that language, sir, but you took me by surprise when on said that. May I ask if you hevo seen this 0 lap, sir?, “ I have not, but I have heard him.” “ Laughing, sir?” H Yes $ , “ That’s him. He comes, haw-haw-hawing about in the dead hours of night like an uneasy ghost. And they do say, sir, that it’s nothin else but a ghost. As far as I am concerned . don’t mind fighting an living thing, but I don’t ‘ like the look of hosts. ’ . “.Nonsenso. intend to rove to you that this ghost is of veritable fles and blood, before ' the night is over. The devil is in my men I be— lieve. Hero is my most trusted sergeant, Wood-- house. singing t 9 same song as Walt Cline. Let 'us hear no more about ghosts, but under-, stand that I want to take this man alive.” “ If it’s only a man, I’ll fix him,” said Wood} house. “ If it’s a ghost and on was to tell me to mold» it, I’d obey orders i the ghost from to me on the spot, and never let go his hold. What ‘ time do you expect him?” “ ' l The Specter Spy. , “I, don’t really think he will come,” said .._ Haverly. “ But Cline thinks he will be sure to so; -come. Confound him, anyhow. I wanted to — go to the city to—night upon business, and now I ’must stay here. It would be a feather in my 1, 2 cap to take this man.” ,' ’ ‘I-doubt if you take him,” replied Wood- . Edison “No matter; we can try. Good—day, : J_ - ‘ The officer passed out, leaving the men to v '3 finish their meal. Two of them had not as good v appetites as before the entrance of their captain, " One of 'them was private Willis, who was to stand guard upon the side from which the 'Specter Spy was expected to come, and the other was the man who must relieve him after , hestood guard the regular time. The change of countenance in Willis did not escape the ’ sharp eyes of the sergeant, always on the alert .tokeep his men in good condition, and he spoke Of‘lt. .v - Y “ VVhat’s the matter, Willis?” he said. ‘ “I don’t know," replied the man. “A sharp . pain went through my bowels like a knife, so V “ Shar , Idon’t like it much." r“- on’t you feel well, now?” 5.. ' ' ""I can’t say that I do. I think I’ll have an- ‘R, other twinge of pain before long. You couldn’t ‘5» "put some one else on guard first, I suppose? I’d “‘9‘, ‘make it up some other time when I felt but- tar. ‘ “Either of you fellows want to stand guard ’ in his place to-night?” said the sergeant, look— i at the two. men who Were on duty upon the ,017 er side of tho island. No; of course you ' won’t. You’ll have to stand, Willis. Maybe " the ain will wear off.” , “ ’m afraid I’m going to be dreadful sick,” " ' Willis, doubling across the corner of the :3 ble. . ' “ I know what lays so hard on his stomach,” ,saidone of the happy couple posted upon the u" city side. . z . What is it?” said (Willis. “I wish you ‘3, would tell me.” - 1 , “You’ve got to take a dose of Specter Spy, r and don’t like it,” replied the man. , ‘Liarl” screamed Willis, making a blow at -him. Arow was imminent, and the sergeant info osed and stopped it. The ruse of Wi lis to ,. mgr} of the o noxious duty failed, and he Ix: . .gave it up in despair. CHAPTER II. - * MONA. ,~CAP'1’AIN WHARTON HAVERLY prided him- “ reel! 11 on his ancient descent, and thought that ’good Blood was sufficient to cover a multitude of sins. Getting out the canoe. after speaking to the soldiers, he set out (for the city. A few min tessufiiced to take him there, and, being ‘.we known. be readily assed the water gate, ‘and entered the city. ontreal, at that time, was far from being the powerful city it now is, "but it was a beautiful town even in this early ‘ 'day, and was the second place in importance in ' the province. .Guy Carleton, the governor. had made General Prescott postponimandant, while lie‘made his own headduarters at the more im- iortant place St. John s. It was a period when much- »was feared from the, Americans, or / .; Yankees, as they were scornfully named. Th6 young and ardent Montgomery had just taken command of the American forces, and had so- cured the assistance of Ethan Allen, of Banning- ton, aman whose influence among the Cana- dians dwelling upon the borders of the “ Hamp- shire Grants,” now the State of Vermont, was wonderful. None knew this better than the British generals. They feared Allen’s influence greatly, and would have given much to get him in their power. They knew that he was some- where in the lower districts, stirring up the dis- affected Canadians; but he came and went like a spirit, leaving no sign. eneral Prescott had his headquarters upon Notre Dame street, in a large stone buildin . He was a man afterward infamous in the arms 8 of the Revolution as ‘ one of the meanest of the many petty tyrants which the war inflicted upon the'Colonics. He was a. coward in times of danger, as all tyrants are. He had been reared in the lap of British aristocracy, and taught all its precepts of exclusiveness, and the right of power, not justice. Possessing a narrow mind, and that warped by success and adulation he knew nothing of benevolence and charity. his judgment was perverse to a degree almost un- parallelcdin the history of men; a heart never touched by the cry of the needy with the smallest spark of sympathy, but when avaricious men opened their lips to plead, he was open to the unanswerable argument of guineas. - Such was the man at whose door Captain Haverly knocked for admission, about two o’clock in the afternoon. An orderl took in his name to the general, and he was a lowed to enter. These men had something in common— an inordinate pride of race; and the general was glad to see his captain, whose blood was un- exce tionable. He stated his errand in plain wort s, and said that he believed he could take Ethan Allen prisoner if allowed to do so. “ Good news that will be,” said Prescott. “ I‘ would load the traitor down with chains, in such'a way that he would cry out for mercy. How many will you take with you?” “I think four esides my servant.” “ Cline?” “Yes, general.” » “ A hanng villain! I do not like the look of his eye,” said escott. “ And yet there is no better blood in England, below the throne, than that of Walter Cline. He has changed his name, becausa, in his low estate, it would be a mockery for him to bear it longer. But if I were to whisper to your ear the name he has a right to bear, you would .~ be su rised.” “ at is it?” 0 Beverly gave the name in a low tone. “ It cannot be.” said Prescott, with an oath. “ Can he prove it?” “ He has it in black and white.” “Then I do not wonder that he shows such an intractable spirit. I was afraid I should be obliged to have the fellow shot if he did not cease his insolence to his oflicers. He wants this kept secret, I suppose?” . i ‘ Undoubtedly." “He shows a proper irit," said Prescott. r “Ah, blood will; tell,you ow. It_isacnrsed . ‘ cott. The Specter Spy. a-.. c ¢ n . .__. pity that we can do nothing for him. He un— undeistands scouting, does he not?” (I Yes. 77 “We might give him a captaincy in one of the rovincial regiments.” “ doubt if he would take it," said Haverly. “ I don’t think you understand the man fully. No man, not even you or I, is prouder of his old blood than he, and he prefers to live as my servant, because I will'not treat him badly, knowing what I do.” “ I understand that he has a daughter,” said Prescott. Haverly looked at him sharply, and half-an- gril . “She is not of her father’s kind," he sai . “We won’tbandy hername about. Mona. Cline is a good girl, and there is not a woman in Montreal, now that Marie D’Arcy has left us, who can compare with her in beauty and grace." “ It is the old_ blood cropping out.” said Pres- “I have never seen Mona Cline but one of my aids, Jameson, is crazy about her. To hear him talk, one would suppose that no such beauty ever lived.” “Few such, at any rate,” said Haverly, promptly. “And I honor her because she has steadily refused to become acquainted With the host of fellows who are mad to know her.” I] “Then I am to understand that you know er.‘ “ I cannot say that, even. Strange as it may seem, Walter Cline has money enough, and Mona lives in good style in the family of Mr. Richard Borden, the linen-draper. She rarely ever comes down when I visit with her father, and when she does, she has little to say.” “ Describe her.” “No need general. Step to the window and you willsee er.” ’ ‘ a A lady was walking her horse down the streetu holdin him with the hand of a mistress. It wasa ace such as we seldom see in woman, clearly cut as an ancient cameo, and noble in every line. Her hair was dark, but lustrous, , and allowed to flow in a great mass in shining \ curls to her saddle, sustained at the forehead by asilver band. Her eyes flashed with anima- tion, and she spoke encoura ing words to her horse, while patting him wit 1 a hand white and small as that of any lady in the land. The general was completely taken by surprise as this visxon of beauty rode by, attended only by a. boy, about fourteen years of age, with whom she was talking pleasantly. “That a servant’s daughter!” said Prescott. “ Upon my honor it is impossible to believe it. Ha; what does that mean 3” Beverly had suddenly dashed out of the house, and hurried toward the fair uestrian. The cause of this sudden movemen was a parent to Prescott in a moment. Two runken Canadian officers, coming down the street arm in arm, had been nttracled by her beauty. and, leaving the sidewalk, had seized her horse by the bridle. “Mort dieu !” cried one in mixed French, “I s’all have 26 honare for introduce myself to mademoisolle‘s favorable notice. I am called Jean Jacques Morillon, of the uard. The favor of mademoiselle’s name is all ask.” / /. “ Release my bridle, insolent rufl‘ian,” said the lad . ,- “yOh, julrdicu,” said the Frenchman. “M194 ‘ demoiselle s‘all 7ave mercy upon her unfortunate ‘r g slave. She s’all tell him her name, so mt he -,’ s’all lave ze honare to pay her one leetle veesit." " In answer, she’ raised her riding-whip and gave him a blow across the face, which raised a. l' “ “ well.” from forehead to chin. , \ He uttered a yell of rage, and seized her wrist“ ' r in his disengaged hand. Just as he did so, Cap—’ ’ ‘- tain avcrly arrived upon the scene, and struck the ellow in the face with his clinched flst ,V before he could defend himSelf. Ho staggered, .5,“ back, and released his hold of the bridle, and ' ’ then drew his sword with a sounding oath. His companion followed his example, and the two, 5 faced a single man. » - “ What does this mean, gentlemen?” said Haverly. “ How dare you insult a lady iuthe. open street?” ’ ' “Monsieur seems to interfere easil in the business of another,” said Jean Jacques 01111011.“! “ It will be an excuse for us to cross swords.” “ Do not fight with him, Captain Haverlyflg said Mona Cline. “ I beg of you .do not.” » “ Defend yourself, Monsieur lie Capitaine,” cried Morillcn, striking the captain with the flat of the blade. ‘ x, v . Haverly flushed, and drawing his own sword,’ made a rapid thrust at the Frenchman, which, if his companion had not pai‘ricd, would have, ended his affairs forever. . ~ “ Two to one,” said H overly, who did not lack ~for courage. “ Come on, then.” - . The rushed at him together, but found that. they ad an experienced foe to. deal with. Haverly had been trained in 3 00d school and, fought skillfully, wounding bot of his sessile, ants before he was touched. The wine the Canadians had been drinking had not improved their sword-play, but they would doubtless have. been too much for the single man opposedxta; them but for the appearance of the IllllI'Q],lfWh0,: assisted Huverly in taking the two ‘mcu into” custody. The assistance rendered by thecaptain" had been timely. and Mona thanked him warmly}; for the manly act. -' “There is one way in which you can cancel. an slight service I have done," said Haverly‘.’ “ on will refuse it, though.” . . i . “ Try me.” - ?. ‘.‘ Permission to visit you now and than.” . , . “ If it will be any pleasure to you to call on. one whose station no one knows better 1; on“ yourself, do so. I shall be glad to see you.” ' “Yet you refuse to lieCOim-m-quainted with man of our men,” saidHavcrly. ' K “ ecause I doubted them and their motives.' They seemed to me merely holiday oar-idem. who would pass, an idle hour With me ashamed to mention it afterward. Even on" must not come too often, as I do not know 1: 9t " mv father will allow it as it is.” ~' “I’ll make you an offer captain,” said the», boy who had accompanied Mona. “ I’yegotto go to/St. Helena‘s, and if you will give me: pass and let me use {our canoe, you may'tal; my horse nd ride wit MissMona.” \ _; ‘ ‘Done " said Haverly, “ with Miss 01m permission.” - 6 I The Specter Spy. “ As you please,” said Mona. Haverl book, an the boy gave up his horse. The young couple rode on down the narrow street amid the angry and surprised glances of many red-coated young heroes, who had wished to become ac- quainted with Mona Cline and had been refused an introduction by the gentleman in whose famil she was placed. “ by is it that your father refuses to be raised in rank when he could easily have it done by my influence i" asked the captain as they rode along. . “ fcannot tell,” said Mona, coldly. “I must ask you one favor beforewa go further, Captain Hayerly. Do not speak of my father to me. Do not think this wish arises from any pride which will not let me recognize a man in humble station, for we know that he only remains as he is go serve his own aims, whatever they may “I shall be glad to leave him out of the ques- tion,” said Haverly. “But, suppose a really impossible thing, as for instance that he refused .th let me visit you: what Would you do?” “I should send you a polite note requesting you to visit me no more.” “lAnd If I came after that?” “ You would not be permitth to see me,” she said, in the same quiet tone she had used before. credit for, and I should be able to ive even if deprived of the society of Captain Whart m Haverly.” “ Confound the girl,” muttered the gallant captain, “ she is laughing at me. How the . “I have a Stronger will than people give me I [deuce does she dare do that?” ‘ They rode out at the barriers and dashed along .a bridle—path which led beside the shining stream. ' Mona had not lost her time in the convent in which she had been educated. Haverly found her full of rare attainments, far surpassing any laId y he had ever known. “ If her cursed father was not my servant,” muttered he, “blame me if I would not fall in love with her. I don’t promise not to, as it is.” “ There is a canoe upon the river ” said Mona, ointiug out into the stream. t was true, utthe canoe had no ocoupant. It floated on upon the bosom of the stream, and yet no paddle was seen. though the canoe moved quite rapi'ii‘ly across the current. . hat is strange,” said Haverly. “I don’t ' see the paddle.” “ Nor the paddler,” said Mona. “See, the canoe shapes its course for St. Helen’s, now. I never saw a boat drift so nicely. One would thin it steered by a rudder." “ at is true. I wish I had a canoe here and v I would investigate the mystery. What is the controlling ower of this strange craft! It is somewhat different from a canoe, now I look at it closely.” / “ We are both deceived,” said Mona. “It is . nothing but a log. It can not he more than seven feet long, and the upper part looks like a ,lorr. certainly. Where has it gone?” Iiaverly uttered an exclamation of surprise “ and rode quickly down to the water’s edge. A moment before the strange craft was in sight I i . without a guiding hand across the rapid / . . I ' x 1/ I. , C - . « ")3 " hastily scribbled the order in a note ' stream, and the next it had vanished as com- pletely us iF destroyed by a lightning-stroke. Mona looked at her companion in dismay], but laughed when she saw the expression of orri— fierl surprise upon his face. “ Did you ever see the like?” said he, in a hushed tone. “ It Is Very strange. It is time for us to turn back. Let us ride as fast as we can and perhaps we shall see it an aim.” They turned t eir horses’ heads and rode down the stream at a, rapid are, watching the water. After riding half a mi e they heard a commotion as of a fish leaping from the water, and the strange craft came slowly to the surface. It did not remain there long, for after a moment the water again closed over it and they saw it no more. Haverly sat upon his horse looking at the place where it had gone down, the picture of surprise. CHAPTER III. '1‘ H E s r: a v A N 'r . THINKING over the strange occurrence, but little was said by either during their ride into the city, and that little bore upon what they had seen. He rode with her to the horse of the linen- draper, and gave up the house to aman who had come out to take it. Bidding her good-by, the captain hurried down to the water-gate, which he reached just as the boy returned with his canoe. It was nearly dark, and Haverly was ohllged to move cautiously in order to keep out of the way of numerous punts. canoes, and fish- ing-boats, coming in from various points. When he reached St. Helen’s it was quite dark, and he was only guided by the lights in the house. Hurrying up to the door, he was met by Cline, who looked gloomy and sava . g9 “What is the matter with you?” said Hav- erl . ‘yl hear that you have been do “59 a service for my daughter,” said Cline. “ ,t it stop there. I thank you for what you haVe done, and will do you a good turn some day in pay— ment; But, that must be the end, for I object to intimacy with men of your stamp, who look upon those who have less money than they as toys with which to pass an idle hour. too good and beautiful to be looked down upon by any man that breathes upon this globe, even if he were a king.” “ Why do on break out on me in that savage way?” said averliv]. “I think I deserve better than that at your ands.” “Enough said,” replied the servant. “ You understand me, do you not? I have thanked you for your service, but do not follow Mona. Cline after this. God knows I have done her evil enough without throwing her in the way of danger greater than any which has yet threat- ened her.” , “ She has given me permission to visit her, and I shall do so.” “ She never gave you her consent without the proviso that I was to be consulted. ,I know her better than that.” “ No; she certainly made that proviso but—” “Do not let us speak of it longer. object most decidedly to any intimacy in that quarter. and my decision is final.” ' I . Mona is ' i. i ii i. l A suit me best of any you have." ~ “ It—it is down in the cellar.” “I forgot that,” said Cline, laying.- his 'hand-' upon a bell-rope that communicated with the soldiers’ quarters, and giving a pull. “0! course the sergeant will come up or send some one. ' . Haverly heard the heavy tread of the Be t upon the stairs and was half inclined to do? 115 tormentor then and there, but the thou t the compromising power which Cline he] over him restrained him. . _ The sergean a peared and saluted, Emma; being at a loss w at to say, Cline took the ter . r - “ 0 down to the cellar and brinfiip a bottle \ of claret in the rack numbered my good. man.” said he coolly. ,\' The Specter Spy.~ ' f The man stared at him in utter surprise, and r '. from him to the captain. “Did you understand me, sergeant?” said Cline. “ The bin numbered ’64 claret. You are very ob .” I ,4“ Why don’t you get it yourself?” said the sergeant, who did not relish being ordered about bya servant. “ You know the way, don’t you?” “ You heard What was told you, sergeant,” said Haverly. “ Obey at once. ” C ‘3 “ Yes, sir,” said the sergeant, saluting, but in u ' e ‘a h1;;o,r’lderful fog still. “ But, I don’t understand 1: ' . i; ,- “ It is not necessary for you to know anything but your orders, sergeant. Make haste now, if you will be so kind.’ ,r The sergeant went out and returned with the 2: claret which he set upon the table. “- ‘ » , 9‘ Glasses and the corkscrew, sergeant.” added 7 Cline, “and then you may go. We shall not need you. Hal how this wine sparkles even through the dingy bottle. This is the stufl? that makes a man forglet whether he is rich or )or. . The corkscrew. ’11 open it, sergeant. ring 'V another glass.” ‘” dler. “Drink. my health, sergeant. I don’t forget old friends. ’ . The man began to understand that there was .‘ something in all this, dee r than he could see, “ ‘ “ and lifting the glass he rained it to the dregs. :Tv , Then saluting his superior oflicer, he slowly I"-" . ‘ “withdrew. ' .“ Fill," said Cline, after pouring out a bumper. V “Let us drink of the cementing of our friend- , ship in a. stronger bond than ever. Pshaw, man, ’ .I will make myself more useful to you as your . lieutenant than I can be as your servant. I can- ‘ ' not talk to you now with that ease which I ‘ would wish to use in conversing with you. No heel-taps when we drink to each other. To a “ran 1‘ tie between us.” “- o a stronger tie between us,” repeated Haverly. “But I really don’t see how you are to pull through.” ‘ Leave that to me. The only favorI shall have to ask from you is that you will act as my ~ second in case I have any affairs of honor with the ‘fellows’ of whom you speak so feelingly. You will not object?” “ Of course not,” replied Haverl faintly. “I thought as much; Why, i I were the -» baserborn'hound the think me, I should demand [tat your hands. ut, knowing who I really '{ ~'am.'it would be stran e if you could not act as thy-second. What di you propose to Prescott «in reference to Allen l” ' ‘ “ I intend to take him if possible.” “Good, I will go with you. What are your plane!” Y “ To find out first who he is, and then watch ; for an opportunityto take him risoner. Woe ' to big: when he comes into the ands of Press eottl « ), ff When I left the frontier, Allen was at Cham- _bly, or rather in the country round about. If 'he is allowed to go on. he will do us great dam- ._age, for the Frenchmen do not love us, and will w be glad of of an opportunity of paying us back hr wrestin Canada from their grasp, and for ‘ ;V.the.death o the great marquis at Quebec.” a. . x ' - r,x 7‘ ‘ . - .. v . l . __.‘ .'_‘ l“, . [’3 “3,3,, He filled a glass and pushed it over to the sol: “ I know that they are bold in treason,” replied the captain, “ but dare they turn traitor when they are doomed if taken?” “ He has promised to get five hundred men for Montgomery, and I believe he will keep his word. Five hundred Canadians, who know the ground about here, would make us trouble, and he is bold enough to asssil Montreal with them. Remember how he took Crown Point. ” “ Yes, and called the commandant out en disha mile and made him surrender in the name of the ‘ Great J ehovuh and the Continental Con- gress.’ Did you not hear something thenifi I thought I heard a sound.” “ The sergeant, probably.” “ It may outside." Cline walked to the window and looked out. It was very dark and he could see nothin . Both listened, but no sound could be hear . Cline took u the light, and holding it out of the window, 100 ed about him. While doing this, fie ugtered a low cry, and the lamp fell from his an . “How awkward you are I” said Haverly. “ Go out and get it.” “ You forget onrself,” said Cline, “ when you order me to o anything in that manner. I assure you thatrI shall do nothing of the kind. Get it yourself if you like." Haverly leaped out of the window and groped for the lamp. Just as his fingers came in con- tact with it somethin struck him such a blow that he staggered. I he had not worn a heavy ca the stroke would have done renter damage, stl 1, as it was, he could not spea for a moment, and a number of stars of r the first magnitude glittered before his eyes. “ What did you drop then, curse you l” he raged. “ You have nearly knocked my brains on . “ What do you mean? I dropped nothing,” shouted Cline. “ You did 1” “ You liel” H Sir I” “ Then don’t tell me that I dropped any thing on your head. You probably struck it against the wall and thought something struck you. Have you found the lamp?” “ Here it is.” “ Give it to me and I will light it.” v As Haverly extended the lamp to Cline there came a crash of glass, and the fragments of the lamp flew in every direction. Cline uttered an oath, for a fragment of the glass had struck' him in the forehead, inflictingla painful ,wound. h “ 8!:in where you are until can find a taper,” e sai . CHAPTER IV. THE LOST PAPER. HE brought a taper from the lower Fart of the building, for he could find no way 0 ing it in the room. The noise they made had amused the sergeant of the guard, and he was looking out of the door to find out the cause of the uproar. , “Come out here,” said Cline, “ and bring a r e, but I thought it came from the ‘ light- ' i l x «awn-1- s ‘ AW‘F"? 7". Y . 1 er .5»? “5*Yfi’ ‘ light with you. :; .. The Specter Spy. I believe my friend, the cap— tain, has been drinking too dee ly of that prime claret. At an rate, he has when his head against the we 1, and nearly broke my wrist by his awkwardness.” “That is a strange way of speaking of your master,” said Woodhouse. “ Cut that sergeant,” said Cline. “ From this time, where harton Haverly and Walter Cline meet, the can only meet as equals.” “ Equa s1" “ Precisely. Understand this at once, ser- geant. Bring the light.” Sorer puzzled to understand what all this meant, the sergeant hurried into the room, and brought out a lighted taper, with which he led the way up the stairs to the room of Haverly. They found him crouching beside the window, white with fear. “ \Vhat is the matter now?” demanded Cline. “ Let me help you up.” Haverly said nothing, but giving his hand to Cline, climbed into the room, where he leaned upon the table for support, literally gasping for breath. “ You act as if cu had seen a spirit," said Cline, angrily. “ hat do (you mean by it?” “ I have seen one,” gaspe the captain. “As I have asoul to be saved a spectral form ap- peared beside me, while I waited for you, and laidd its cold and clammy hand upon my fore- hea . “ Why did you not shoot?" “I had no weapon but my sword, and do you think that with that icy touch upon me I could have moved hand or foot? I believe what you \said about the Specter Sp , for—” “ Ha! ha! ha! ’ shrieke the same voice which had sounded in their ears beside the river that Ingram! ,. “He, too, fears the Specter Spy. Hal a a Woodhouse hearing that appalling cr , stared about him in htter dismay, for the sountl seemed to fill the very room in which they stood. Then springing to the window, he closed it quickly and ran to the door. “ Whatever it is, man or demon, he is in this room!” roared the sergeant. “ Assist me, both of on, and we will search the chamber.” ' ‘hey looked in every place in the room which could hold the Specter Sp , beneath the sofa, under the bed in every cup oard in the room, but in vain. There was no trace of an man or indication that one had been there. oodhouse threw open the window, and as he did so, that Wild .laugh sounded again in his ears, this time seeming to come from below. “_ The devil is in it all,” he growled. “ I never believed in things supernatural, but this passes allbelief. It almost unmans- me, and I am no chicken. What do you think of it, Cline?” “I think as 1 always did, that this is no hu- man being, and that you might as well chase the Wind as to follow him. Enough has been said. Let us go to rest. if we can rest, and' do what we can to Search out this mystery to-mor— row. You may go, sergeant. I pass the night with my friend, Ca tain Haverly.” Woodhouse left t em, and the two looked at each other with the bafl‘led air of men who haVe an insoluble riddletoguess at. They sat for [the longer iece he madea running noose, which half an hour facin each other, and mechanical-. . ly drinking deep rom the claret bottle without speaking. At last Cline rose to his feet. ‘ “ You—you are not going to leave me?” 3 , ed Havcrly. “ I woul not like to passtheni is alone after what I have seen and heard to-ni t. I seem to feel the chill u nmy forehead an see 7' that dim figure rising at ove me in the darkness, v , ,. . white mute, and unbending. It took all the life ‘ i . 2 out of, my heart. « r “Let us retire,” said Cline. “ It is useless to say more u on this subset. The time for than ' ‘“ is passed. ill you ta 0 the floor, as you pro- ' - posed?” ' s “I think we had better sleep in the same bed, I ‘f if you do not object " said Havcrlv. ‘ ‘ Just as you like,” replied Cline, smiling grimly. They lay down together, and for some time Haverly tossed and turned, unable to sleep. At , last he became more quiet, and his companion fell asleep. ‘ 7' An hour passed, and the captain rose upon his ‘ ‘1. elbow, and looked down upon the sleeping man. He was lying with his broad chest exposed, the ‘ knotted rid es of his werful muscles shining through the rowned s in. I ‘ Wharton Haverly had been chafing more than V‘ he dared to show at the thralldom in which he \ :3. was held by his former servant, and having for gotten his immediate fear of the Specter Spy, ‘ _ he began to think that this mi ht be a good op- x ~ portunity for ridding himsel of a dangerous. enemy. Slipping cautiously out of bed, hemade ‘ 1 pro larations for what he had to do. _. _ Ignowing the room perfectly, he found what . ’ he required ‘b‘y the dim light of asmall Spirits, j lamp which oodhouse had lighted before he ’ left t e room, and turned rtly down. Step- ing cautiously over the cor in his barefoot, he ound a cord, and cut it into two pieces. In he held in is left hand, and then took ales: “ “ bladed dagger in his right, with which he tone -‘ . ed the sleepin man upon his bared breast. He, started up, h f asleep, when Haverly the noose over his shoulders and drew it‘tight at the 1 elbows while he threatened the struggling man With the dagger. Cline saw that the man whom he had controlled so long was desperate, and that he was in his wer. . _‘ “ Do not cry out,” h ssed the ca tain, flashing ' - the dagger before his eyes. “ t youdaredo that you are a dead man. Kee quiet while I bind you. If I prick you wi this blade, you, ’ may as well say any prayers you know, for the bite of a rattlesnake is not more venomous.” Cline remained quiet while the on tain_ knot» ted the rope upon his breast and t en tiedhis legs securely with the other p ece. He now lay at the mercy of his raptor, and badto submit to the which was forced into his mouth and, tied hind his ears. _ _ i “ Now I have you i" hissed the captain. “ Devil that you are, where is your power over. « r me now? Now will you force me to ‘.‘, your name to Prescott as my lieutenant ow p » V will you threaten me with showingjhei paper__ . ’ which you obtained so that\.you mightssaertj your power over me in this manner! Why should I not touch you with the dagger, linden; 7 10 The Specter Spy. H all at once? I have (gagged you in order to tell ; . you what I want. ive up that paper.” Cline nodded his head. “ You will do it, then. Now I will remove the gag, but if you dare to cry out I will kill you at once.” '38 cut the string which bound the gag, and removed it. " “Now I can speak,” said Cline. “What is the meaning of this assault?” “ It means that I will not submit to be the slave of one who has done me menial service, even if I must spill his blood. I would not do it if I could help it, but it is forced upon me. Where is that paper i” “What would on give to know?” said the man, quietly. “ al ha! hal my dear captain, do you think that I am fool enough to carry such a document as that upon my person? It is V not here.” v “ Where is it?” he demanded. ' “ I shall not tell you.” " “Then you are a dead man,” said Havcrly, raising the dagger. ‘5 Stop; you do not know what you are doing other hands than mine, and if you do rc to kill me, the moment my death is made public, your shame will ring from one end of the Canadas to the other." ‘9. You do not mean that?” “You will fini it, to your cost if you dare to lay a finger upon me in anger. That is the un- derstandmg between myself and the person you ’ do not know. When I am gone, the person will place in the hands of the proper authorities the ' papers which will prove you a felon. You wince get that, do you? You have me in your power! Hal ha! hal I would not have lain down by your sideso peacefully if I had not known my sat uard.” “ me on, I believe you are lying to me, to save our ife. ’ i “ hen take it, and see what the result will be. at I give you the warning for your good, and I ope you will profit by it. Beware!” ‘- I will not take your word for it,” said the \ captain. I tain's.” He took up the clothes, which Cline had left 11 a chair, and searched them thoroughly, w ile Cline regarded his movements with a smile. As he laid the waistcoat down, Havel-1y * saw that one side appeared to be more thickly padded than the other. , Picking it up again, he 7 pressed it in his hand, ’ and felt something be- neath the lining. Cline uttered a10w cry, as he saw him rip open the lining and draw out a pa- \ T . I' . 1’.': iii :1 I i ""7 “Let us see what your clothing con- . per- ‘ “Do not read it,” he cried. “As you value life and death, do not dare to read it. The red curse fall on you and blight you, body and soul, if you do it. I curse you, with the curse of a ‘ khan vengeance will not slumber nor fade we . . \ “" 3 this the paper .which you held against \ me!” asked Haverly. r “ No; I tell you no! That paper is disposed of :‘as Isaid. Any injury to me will recoil upon Your _own head... This paper has nothing to do .- v It!” , t t - when you threaten to kill me. The paper is in. “ I do not believe it,” said Haverly. “ At any rate, I will soon see.” He opened the ackage on his knee, and was about to read. is back was turned to the win- dow, which was still open, and he never knew the danger which hung over him until the start- led look in the eyes of Cline caused him to turn his head. He saw, bending near him, a tall, spectral figure, white and silent the same which had laid its (-lamm y hand u‘ron him a few hours before. W'ithont thinking what he did, he struck at the figure with the dagger, and the next mo- ment he was prostrated under a heavy blow, which laid him bleeding upon the floor of the room. The blow was hardl dealt when the room was in darkness, and line felt his bonds severed, while that cold hand, pressed upon his forehead, held him down. “Man of blood.” whispered that chilling voice, “move not if you would not feel the ven- geance of one who can never forget nor forgive. Lie as you are, after I leave you, until you can count a hundred. Then rise and assist your in- famous aSsociate. I might have left you to his vengeance, but the time is not yet.” The hand was removed, and the rustle of clothing was heard. Count one hundred! Of all the terrible tasks be had undertaken, this was the worst. Ho achieved it at len h, and leapingup, he ran to the table and lig ted the lamp. Its li ht revealed Haverly lying upon the floor, wit a out upon his forehead from which the clotted blood was’ slowly oozing, and wettin his dark hair. Without attending to him, Cine ran to the window and peered out into the gloom. Nothing could be seen, and as he looked, the “Hal ha! ha!” of the Specter Spy came back upon the night—air. . “ I knew it must be he,” muttered Cline. “ No other being could have come into the room as he did, and disappear so like a vision. Will he never cease to haunt me? I care not if he has ended this young scoundrel who would have taken my life.” Haverly stirred, and uttered a deep groan. Cline brought a basin of water, and washed the clotted blood from his forehead, revealing the wound, which had been made by some blunt in- strument, of what kind he could not say. The touch of the cold water brought the young man to his senses, and he looked up with a mazed and frightened expression. . ‘ You, Cline? Has he one?” “Yes he is gone. Foo that you were, your miserab e and clums plot has recoiled upon your head after all. would serve you right to finish you, and then lay it to the Specter.” " You would not do that?” “I have your dag er, you see. It shall never leave me from this mm, but shall be my con- stant companion. What is to hinder rue—using our own words to inc—from pricking you with Its point? The venom of the rattlesnake is not more deadly. you said.” “No, no, Cline. For Heaven‘s sake, do not put it so near me. You do not know the den or.” / “ ou did not think of that when you threatr ened me with it.” “I never meant to kill vou.” “You know you lie. It I had not told you ‘1 14:”.3: «‘5va 37¢; i . , turning out the guard—relief. The Specter Spy. ‘ , a 11' that my hold over you will not cease with my (1 nth, you would have killed me, and laid it to the Specter Spy, as Ilought to do.” “ But you W1 1 not. 1 was desperate and did not think what I did. Your life is safe from this , hour, for I dare not iissuil it, knowing what I now do. The desire to get possession of that vile Paper overpowered mo entirely.” “ "hat paper!” shriekcd Cline. “ i forgot it; oh, my God, I forgot it wholly. Where is it?” “ What?" “ The paper you tool; from my waistcoat. God curse you, if 1 do not iiiul iii “'hut did you do with it? Speak quickly, or I will bury the dugrror in your heart. and lciue it to fester there. owcrs above, hel )iiie to lind itl” “[1 drople it when fell,” said Huverly. “Let me rise; it may be under me.” He staggered to his feet and reeled to a chair, for the blow he had received iiiie'lit have felled an ex. Cline searched, in frantic lnistc, every place where it could, by any possibility, have gone, but the search was vain. Yet. with a des- perate look in his set face, he continued the search up and down the room, looking at Beverly now and then, as if he was tempted to take ven centre on him for the loss he had sus- tained. avr-rly knew nothing of it, beyond the fact that he had opened it upon his knee, and had not read a. word, when the Specter appeared and struck him down. In spite of himself, Cline was forecd to believe that the being whom he so feared had taken with him the paper upon which he had set so much value. lie tell upon the bed, uttering a despairing cry. CHAPTER V. THE WIZARD CANOE. HAV'ERLY sta gered up and came to him as he gay upon the be , and touched him on the shoul- er. “ Off 1” screamed Cline. “ You have destroy- ed me and the plan of years, by the loss of that pa r. Iwcurse you as I will curse you with my dying breath, if I do not get it back. The Specter Spy has taken it, and you—you are to blame.” ‘ “ What was this paper?” “ Do you think I would tell you? Enough that it was the thought of my life for many years, and if I do not find it, woe to you for being the cause of its loss. I will make you repent it in dust and ashes. A day of reckoning will come, and it will be a. heavy time to you. Are you stroInIg enon h to come with me i” “ o,” sai Havel-1y. feebly. “ Then stay where you are,” cried the ex-ser- vant, “ and See that you do not move.” He ran down the stairs and found the sergeant “You keep good watch here, Sergeant Woodhouse,” said he. “ While you have been sneezing comfortably, a spy has been in the house and has nearl killed tie captain. Turn out with torches an let us see what we can find.” Woodhouse dashed into the room, and came out with a. lighted flambeau in each hand. Cline snatched up a saber which stood in the hall and ran out with them. They searched first beneath the window and found tracks which might have made by them when they leaped out of the “V f. . window in search of the spy the first time. Cline _ 7 took a torch and made a circuit, and found the ,' tracks of nioccasined feet leadin toward the ‘_- ‘[ mainland side of the island. filling to the other three to follow, he led the we. as quickly~ as he could, following the tracks. hey led him *— ' directly to the spot where Willis was stationed. When they arrivod, no Willis could they see. They looked about them in the darkness, and Womlhouso called out in aloud voice, and was’ _ answered by a muffled sound a few feet away. They hurried to the spot and found Willis tied». to a tree in an inconvenient attitude, with a gag , in his mouth which prevented him from utter-U ‘ iug anything save inarticulate sounds. ,Thcy ‘ untied him and removed the gag, and no soomr j . did he get the free use of his tongue than he tell ‘- to cursing, with a solid pleasure in' the. act, ‘ known only to the man who has no other means ; ’ of redress. ‘ . .- “ Who did this, Willis?” said Woodhouse. “ You care a rrent sight about it, don’t you, sergeant? I tol you I was unwell~and ‘thatI ' did not want to come here, and now, blast my , bloody eyes if I hain’t been tied to that tree ever since dark.” ‘ t . A general laugh followed this speech, at which ‘ the ire of Willis was newly aroused, and he do- livei-ed himself of his wrath in no set terms. \ While they were laughing at him they were strangely interru ted. Something which seem.- ed to be a bout u some kind, was seen passing . down the stream in the circle of light formed‘by ' _ their torches, and yet it could not for it had no occupant. In short it wealthe strange craft which had attracted the attention of Mona Cline and the captain, upon the nu: sion of their ride along the islands » v , “ Where is the canoe?” cried Cline. “ I must see what that is, for it looks like something He. orly saw this afternoon. Here is the canoe thank fortune. Get in, Woodhouse; take your rifle with you, and we will see if we cannot over- haul this strange craft. Let me take the paddle“ for I understand the management of a canesr better than you do.” ~ }\ ‘ The others remained standing on the shore, and the canoe gushed 011’, with the flamh'eail gleaming in the racket set into the how farther purpose. The strange thing they followed float- ed on down the stream, not quite so fast “the t canoe. and Woodhouse kneeling in the bow, got. 1 *1. , his rifle ready to fire. , "- '- “Don‘t shoot if you can help it, sergeant,”sald Cline. “ I would not alarm the garrison need- lessly if I can avoid it. We are nearing it. Haverly’s talk of its disappearanceisin'all b- ubility nonsense. .It looks like a log, now. at I look at it closely." . i , “ I don’t believe it is anythingJelse exceptr- log," said Woodhouse. “ We are adly chea Push nearer to it, at any rate. and let’ pa a certain of it if we can. He! w hat is that!” A panel in the suppOsed log was seen to E open, and a boisterous laugh, which Cline x the sergeant recogniwd too well, ruig outin the clear night-oi hey saw the waterbubblqbo- side the object they had chased. 'and item from sight, while Woodbouse did'not‘reum an!» ficient presence of mind to fire at it, it. had passed out o! sight. ~ f i, . The Specter Spy. ‘~‘ The Specter Spy I” cried Cline. “ Who dare , , » say now that I am wrong in fearing this intan- - a gible being, who is at home in the water as well - as on the land ?” “ I am in a cold sweat,” said Woodhouso. i Q , ' i"Pen honor, this beats anything in my philoso- f. h I?! p ‘yAnd in mine. Where has the‘ocoursed thing i .‘ ' gone, I should be pleased to know?” i He rested on his paddle and let the canoe float, ,. , casting searching glances all about him. While ,‘i ' both were 10 aking down-stream, the wizard craft ‘ arose from the waterndozen feet astern and ’ rushed at the canoe. Neither of the men know their danger until the crush came, and the stern of the Canoe was beaten in, and she began to fill, while the non 1. *script sunk m; bolero, leav- ,ing Woodhouso and Cline floundering in the water. The men upon the shore saw the light go out suddenly amid the cries of the ship- ..wrecked men, and ran down to the bank, one of ~-’ the soldiers waving the remaining flambeau ' above his head to guide them to the shore. g ’ There was a fearful spluttering iii the midst of " the stream, and the two came to the bank ' drenched. A broad smile irradiated the face of ,» the late captive, Willis, for he felt that retribu- tion followed‘those who had laughed at his mis— fortunes. “ I am afraid you got very wet,” he said, as thgatvgo men shook themsalves like spaniels after >8 t . “Private Willis,” said Woodhouse, “if you .. make sport of your superior officer, I will have . you at in the guard-house for bad conduct.” ’ . “ t was all ve well while you was laughing at me ” growled illis. “ N ow the boot is on ,thc at or foot and you don’t like it so well, do ; you? i won’t say any more, for it won’t pay.” “A wiseJesolution, private Willis. Another word would have sent you to the guard-house. .NOW let us get to the house as soon as we can, f for m teeth are chattering like castanets. Pri- ’._ vats iscoll ma relieve Willis, and you goto , theether post. ’11 come out and see that all is ri ht when I get dry.” ‘ fi‘hey went to the house, and Willis built a , fire to dry the clothing of the unfortunates who had been spilled out of the canoe. Cline sent Willis to the collar for a pint of brandy, and the ' strong liquor warmed them more than the fire. Willis, under the influence of a dram, re rted them-inner in which he had been capture . He 7 was not in good~humor at being put upon that ,- spot to keep guard, and sat down at the root of ;{ iatree, resting his'rifle against the trunk. While (,in that position, never dreaming of danger, he was surprised at being seized by a pair of long ’and 'muscular arms from behind, and drawn 'back against the tree, in the very position in ,Twhich he had been found. It was very dark, « ,and he could not see his assailant, who only -. spokeonce, and then to warn him not to breathe «a. word it,he valued his life. As Willis did set :some little, value upon the last—named article, he did not speak, nor even object when the gag Was forced into his mouth. Willis said that the “,thmg which seized him had a cold, clammy tour: which chilled him to the Very marrow, thou: his auditors were inclined to the opin- Q0 that this was the efllect of tear. When he had secured the unfortunate sentry. the stranger threw his rifle into the river, and went away toward’s Haverl ’8 quarters. “I make no oubt that tho raptor of Willis and our visitor are one and the same person or thing,” said Woodhouse. “ You do not think him mortal?” said Cline. “I do not know what to think,” replied the sergeant. “I only know that if he is mortal I would give twenty pounds out of my own pocket, poor as I am, to see him hung, and if he is a ghost I would double it to besureI should never see or hear him again." “I do not know how to account for his mysterious movements,” said Cline. “ You know me, Sergeant Woodhouse, and that I am not a man easily frightened, but I swear to you that my blood seems to turn to water when I think of that bein . I must meet my doom, however, and I beieve that this is my evil genius, and will follow me until I am laid in my grave. I must now go and see how the captain gets on, for the blow he received might have killed him.” Haverly was asleep when Cline came up, with a bloody rag wound around his forehead. Cline took a blanket from a closet, and wrap ing himself in its folds, laid down upon the cor. Both of them slept quite late, but Cline was the first to stir. He looked at his superior lying upon the bed, and called to him. “Wake up, my dear Wharton," he said. “There is work before you.” Haverl started up, and at firstlforgot what he had to 0, but Cline put him in mind of it di- rectl%. “ hat can I do?” “ Well, say to Prescott that J. was very for- ward in the attempt to capture the man or devil known as the S cter Spy, and that will satisf me. I don’t think he dare refuse to give me w at I ask." “ I know that well enough," growled Haverly, I “ but the fellows will make it too hot for you. The will send you to Coventry, by Jove!” “ ill they? That’s hard upon me, but I will try to bear it. Send me to Coventry, eh? I may he forced to send one or two of them to a place several degrees warmer than even Coven- try,” said Cline, quietly. “ I‘think we had bet- ter get some breakfast, for I’m devilish hungry after last night’s adventure. Did I tell on that Woodhouse and I got spilled out of t e canoe last night?” “ I’ll tell you at breakfast,” said Cline. “B the wagyou’ll have to get a new skip to-da . won’t ab you after this. Ring for the sergeant.” Woodhouse came up. “Breakfast,” said line; “and bequickabout it.” During the meal, Cline told Haverl of his adventure with the Wizard Canoe. overly, though astonished, wished in his secret heart that Cline had gone down to rise no more. Cline himself understood his look, and grinned satirically whi‘e he told the story. After break- fast they crossed to Montreal and entered the city. Hei-orthey separated, and Haverlytook his course to the rss1dence of Prescott, while le to do any thing of that kin for: US. \ ,vr'rtrwr ’1 Pl 'I‘he Specter Spy. cit-servant walked in the direction of the linen- draper’s, after appointing a meeting with Hav- crly in an hour from that time, at the “George” hotel. When they had separated, an expression of indecision appeared upon the face of Walter Cline. He walked slowly, and while his course tended toward the linen-dru. icr’s, he seemed to be in doubt. After a slow walk of half an hour, in deep thought, he made up his mind. “ I will do it,” he said. “ I can have as much power over this youn spendthrift and would—be mun as his friend as could have as his servant. And yet the oung devil would have killed me last night if e had not been interrupted. I must take care what I do. " Y He reached the shop and asked fer Mona. The boy who had given up his horse to Haverly the day before was attending the shop and seemed to know his business, for, without a word, he ushered him into a small parlor behind the shop, in which Mona was seated, sewing. She looked up quickly, and seeing who it was, pointed to a chair in silence. The boy went out, and left them alone together. “Have you no warmer greeting for me than that Mona?” he said, in a tone of sadness. “I am glad to see on,” she said, softly. “I owe you every thing have, but I can not think you do right in remaining a servant when you have the power to rise to the rank of a gentle- man. “That is because I cannot explain my mo— tives ” said Cline, eagerly. “You do not under- stand why I consented to be the flunky of a man far below me in intelli ence, and not my superior in social rank. If I d it in my power to ex- plain, you would no longer blame me, but would t me. Whatever my bad deeds, and they are many, I have always loved you, and have studied your comfort. I have seen that you have taken it to heart because I am in a false position here, and I will change it for your sake. shall this day be offered and accept the rank of first lieutenant in the rifles." “ Father!” cried Mona, joyfully. “ You do not know how glad I am to hear you say that.” “ 1 have taken this step for your sake. and I can do it safely. That being told. I have some- thing to say to you. Yesterday Wharton Hav- erly saved ou from two drunken Canadian ofl'lcers, did 8 not?” “ Yes father.” “ And you rode with him after it?” “:1 con (1 do no less,” she answered. “ It was a false move. If I had been here it would not have been made. I ob'ect to your acquaintance with Wharton Haverly.” ‘ Yet he came to my rescue nobly.” “Look at the matter in its true li ht. Both the men were drunk, Prescott was coking on from the window. and half a dozen soldiers within call. I do not see anything so very spir- ited in that. Never allow yourself to think of Wharton Haverly as a good man or a proper companion for you, for he is not.” Mona had always bowed to the judgment of her father in these matters, and she simply in- clined her head. “ I must allow him to see me once,” she said, “for women of my blood alwa a keep theirpromises. You have faith enoug in me I to believe that I will make this the lust meet- v I}: in .” g‘ I can trust you in anything, dear girl," said ~- the man. a bright smile irradiating his dark ,‘ ‘ face. “ Hard I may be, cruel perhaps at times, but when I cease to trust in you and believe in you, 1 must also cease to breathe. I must go now for I promised to meet him, and to accept. the lieutenach he has by this time obtained from Prescott.” “I wish I knew our power over this young scion of nobility, other." . “ What could it avail you to know, my child? -. I am sure if I thoufzht it would make you ha r pier than you are, would tell it to you quickly . 1: v and gladly.” 5' “I do not ask you to tell me, if you think I So}. on ht not to know,” she replied. . . ”‘ ‘ It is enough that he is a libertine. without ‘ ' the brains to carry out any deep-laid plot, so he always chooses some secret instrument. He would think himsclf disgraced foreverif forced _ ~. - to marry a woman of your sup ed rank, and ‘ if he pursues you, it will he or no good pur-. pose, you may be sure. Good-by; I suppose fiou Will ride today, and if you do, take youpg‘ _ ichard with you. and do not allow Haverly to Jom ou. .- With these words he strolled out of the‘ ' v ' house and walked at a leisurely pace toward. . " the hostelry, known as the “ George,” in what is now Great St. James street, where he had- agreed to meet Haverly. ' CHAPTER VI. THE COMMISSION. j . WALKING into the great salon of the tavern, ‘- he sat down at one of the tables commandin a, ' view of the street and called for wine. .‘ waiter who brought it knew him and whispered to him to take another table, as that was pre- ferred by the officers who came in quite often. * ' - . “ Never mind me, Carter,” said the ex-servant, . v , ’ “ I will not leave this table for all the offlcersinl , 7 this prpvince. Put the wine down| and leave me' a one. He had not been seated more than five minntesg and had not finished his first glass, when there" entered the two men who had assailed Mona in ~ the street the day before. Cline knew them wrong! and a fierce ligh came into his dark eyes as he; ' ) surveyed them. At first they were about to take A - another table, but, seeing that no one but Cline occu ied the other, they came forward and or dare him to leave it. i >. “And why should I leave it, gentlemen?” he I said quietly. “ I occupied this table first," ' ‘ * “ It makes no difference,” replied Jean J ues Morillon, who seemed to be spokesman lamina _ brawls. “ You had better leave the tableorl . will In you out by the ears. Dmble! do you know w o I am?" ' « “ Yes.” “ Whatam I then?” , , “ An infernalscoundrel.” \ Morillon uttered a roar like a wild beast "and r made a dash at the ears of the speaker. rose, and drawing back his long arm deliberate;- ly knocked the Frenchman down. re mu?" cry from the waiters, who, belonging as they’d” - v I . f V v ' V I I “N M r. .. ' l r . 3:, ,. ; '5' to the poorer class, 5 pathized with their com- , fianion, and expec him to be immolated for e? “e is daring act. The other officer made a dash at c: ,‘the immovable figure of Cline, when he was . _ served in the same manner. Then, thrusting his if; hands’into his bosom, he brought out a. pair of l , ‘ heavy pistols, and as the two Frenchmen rose, tr . leVeled them with the air of a. man who knew ‘ how to use them. They recoiled and look Id at the man in confusion and dismay. At the same moment Haverly came in at the front door and advanced to the table. ' ‘r‘ What means this, Cline? Why are you put . upon your defense in this manner?” “Because these gentlemen wish to drive me from the table at which I have chosen to seat 3 ' = ‘ myself, and I refuse tob’c driven,” was the reply. ’;=\ ‘ “ Correct our servant, Monsieur Le Capi— i v mine," yelle Morillon. “ He has knocked me down." “ I~have no servant here.” said Haverly. ,V‘ “ That coquillaine, I mean. Ho, there, with g 1 those istols, who has dared to strike me in the ‘ . face. ’ superior officer.” “You arewrong,”,said Haverly. “Not only go I deny that he is my servant, but that he is ._ 1: all subordinate to you. He now ranks as high , as you do, for m lieutenant of foot is higher , than a. captain in t e colonial troops.” , “‘ What do you mean?" “Phave here his commission as lieutenant in in company, for gallant service,” replied Hav— . er . * - “YGood,” said Morillon. “Then let monsieur understand that he shall hear from me again.” / “ What is the row?” said a bluff voice, at this moment. “I’d like to have a hand in, if it is . entirely afieeable to ever body. ” They loo ed at the s iea er, who was a hand- - some young fellow in t e dress of a gentleman of the colony, having no arms exce t a light / dress-sword. ,He was unknown to sit er Cline . or Haverly, and the latter frowned. ' “Excuse me, sir, if I say that this is my of— ! Iair.” l r “All right,” said the stranger. “ You will ' excuseme, but I am an' Englishman, and that x frog—eater was so impudent 1 could not bear it. Goon with your quarrel; I’ll not interfere un- less you want a second.” " “ I do not know you,” said Haverly, drawing himself up stiflly. ‘ “ 0h, as to that, my name is Bernard Pearson. and I came here from Quebec on business. I beg your pardon, Frenchman, I ought not to have interrupted you.” , ~Morillon turned on his heel and left the ' " ‘room. The stranger laughed heartily. and seat- ' dug himself at a table upon the other side of the - room, called for wine and filled a glass which he began to Big.) The others sat down at their table and began talk. ‘ . “(You have the commission,” said Cline, in a ’ low tone. “ Was there any opposition?” I “ 0! course there was. Do you suppose that oommiflions in his Majesty’s rifles are given i away. upwadayf for a song? .06 course Pres- cott objected, ut I used my entire influence \rwith him for your good, and here is your-,com- ,trninsicn.” . z'zfle spread a parchment upon the table, and . ’ r.’ l ‘. i - . l W. 14 I The Specter Spy. Cline, with a strange smile u on his hard (are, , read a commission for hiinse f in the — regi- ‘meiit of foot. in the company of Captain Huv- erly, for meritorious service; subject to Carle- ton’s approval. “ So far good,” said Cline. “ And now to Christen it. We must take this devil of an Alli-n, who is taking our men from us in the lower colonies for the service of America. That must be stopped.” . The gentleman sipping his wine at the other table did not change a. muscle of his face, but was listening to every word spoken. We have said he was ll. handsome young man, but have not described him. His form was powerful and of great size; for he could not have stood less than six feet two. His arms were long and muscular and his shoulders broad. His hands were delicate and white as a woman‘s. He wore no beard, and could not have been improved by wearing one. “When do we start upon our expedition, then ?” said Haverly. “ Whenever you like. I think we had better take twenty men until we get near the village where he is likel to be found, and then leave them and do a litt e scouting.” “I like our plan. If we can capture Ethan Allen we s iall do the state a service which \x ill warrant me in asking for my ma'ority and raise you to the rankof captain. ut. I tell you that he is a fish not easily netted. By ,the way, what do you think of the gentleman at the table across the room l” “ Never saw him in my life.” “ Would it not be a. good plan to pump him, and see what he is?" H Yes.” Haverly rose and walked across the room. “My companion and myself have to thank you for being willing to take up our quarrel a moment since,” he said. “ I was a little vexed at first, for it looked as though you thought me une ual to my Own quarrel.” “ ii, it was not that,” said Bernard Pearson. “ My dear sir, I delight in a row, and can never keep myself out of .one. do the best I can. or course I had no business to mix in with you, but I followed my unfortunate instinct.” “ Will you come to our table and take a glass; with us?” “With pleasure. Perhaps I had better take my wine with me; we may need it.” ‘Just as you like.” The three were soon seated face to face. Haverly introduced himself and his companion, and they began to talk. “ We had never seen you in Montreal," said the captain, “ and I was surpriSed when you spoke. My friend, here. has jus got his com- missi.:n, and, although he rose fr m the ranks, his blood is as pure as yours or mine.” “ M good sir, how do you know but my blood is as b ack as blood can he?” ' “ You don’t look like it, sir,” replied the cap- tain. “ I Will wag1er twenty giiineas you come of gentle blood, w erever you claim your birth- p ace. , “ You would win,” said Pearson. “ And, at {the same time, I assure you that I am not so great a, stickler for blbod as many people. V Ibo» 5,._/.- «. 1/ g - l ' this matter—yon, a private “ my regimental” The Specter Spy. licve in the gontility which arises from nobility of soul, no mutter what the degree." “ You don’t mean that?” “ Certainly, [ (lo. I have seen men among the Indians who were as true gentlemen us any who have been pampored by doting, aristocratic purcnts in England, during this century, and as far beyond many of them as Heaven is above (-nrth. Don't let us talk of that, for I don’t like the topic. Did you not speak of Ethan Allen, a moment since?" “ Yes.” “ Do you know where he is?” “We think so." “I suppose he has troubled you very much?” “ He certainly has." “ I have seen Allen myself, and I must say he isa noble Slxli‘lllflll of manhood. A son of the $011 loyal to the heart’s core to his own peo- ple, and brave as a lion.” “ You speak well of him.” . “ I grant you he has done evil to us, as a na- tion, but we ought to respect bravery, wherevor we see it.” “Of course; but, if we can catch the fellow, you gould not see anything wrong in it, I sup— pose “ If you can catch him, do so; but he is a slippery party. W here did you hear from him as! . “ Somewhere near Chambly, stirring up the people to insurrection." “Hurray!” cried a major. “Here is Haver- ly. How are you, old boy? What is your ser- vant sitting at the table with you for? Come, Cline, get out of the way, will you? I want to sit there." “ You will find plenty of room at the table without my place, major," said Cline, quietly. “Sit down if you wish.” “Look here, my man, do you want me to shave your ears ofl’ close to your head?” “ Not exactly.” “ It you don’t leave that stool directly, I’ll cut ‘em oi! ; burn me if I don’t!” “I told you the fellows wouldn‘t stand it,” whispered Haverly in a low voice. “ Don’t you think you had better go away, and let me try and persuade them to treat you well?” ‘ I tnink I told you, at the same time, that I would teach ‘the fellows’ better manners, and I intend tokeep in word to the letter. Did I understand you, ajor Jones. as saying that you wtended to do me the honor to cut off my ears. “ Close to your head, by Jove!" “0h; then don’t you think you would do as well to set about it now? No time like the pre- sent, it seems to me.” , “ Eh! Do you mean to brave me?” “Not exactly that. I only claim the treat- ment of a gentleman at your hands, and I mean to have it. The decision of his manner sobered Major Jones, who had been drinking wine before he came there, and who now looked at the speaker in surprise. “ Are you drunk, Cline?" he asked. “ Not at all.” “Then yen intend soriousl to brave me in I “ I am not a private in our regiment.” “ You give me the lie, t on?” slid the major. r “Um )h, we will see about this. You impu- dent 0g, we will ivc you a. lesson which you ’ will remember. will have you tied up‘ and beaten like u dog." V “ You will do nothing of the kind,” was the cool reply. “ Speak out, Captain Haverly, and ._ let these gentlemen know that in future we ‘ meet as equals.” , \ ‘ “Tho deuce!” cried Jones, “the goor fellow is mad. Why don’t you send in away, Haverlyl” ' I," “I have no right to command him,” said. Haverly, desperately. “ He has a commiuion . as first lieutenant in my regiment,and you " must give him due honor.’ \ “ I’ll see the fellow totally and eternally burned first,” was the reply of Major Jones. , “ You ought to know better than to ask it '01 me, Haverl . What right had he to a. cammis‘ ' sion over t 9 heads of better men? I don’t be- lieve Prescott would give him one.” . .~ “In other words, you doubt whether I have told on the truth?” ' I “ ow, don’t make the quarrel yours, Haver- ly. I tell you that I won’t stand this thing,“ nor I won’t associate with a man who has been’ - {fur skip. Understand that. I vote we send 'm to Coventry.” ,\ “ Read the commission. It is for meritorima ’ conduct that he is raised to this rank." ,‘ “ I don’t care. He shall be sent to Coventry and any one who is seen in his company shall join him in the excursion." , H x - Cline rose slowly from his seat and struck the ’ speaker a sounding slap in the face. Adeod‘ hush fell upon every one in the room, and. '_ 1 Jones, who was a brave tellow,re ,tha'; blow. From that moment, the aflair could not. be stopped. ‘ - - ' “” CHAPTER VII. GIVING SATISFACTION. MAJOR Jonas was known far and near our. skillful swordsman, one of the best in Montreal, and it was thought no one could equal him-at,“ the exercise. Hence, if it came to a duelwitlnfl . swords, the newly comissioned ofloer must go. :.’ daigd Yet he did not seem in the least discou A car _ V .‘ “Name your lace time, and we. "hid . .flones, yhoarsely.p “ Captain Ponsongizifl act - or me. . ‘ “ This must not go on ” said Ponstmhyfif. “ Jones. what are you thinldn of? Yoa’can not fight this fellow, and. you ave n rightto , refuse." ‘ '- “ I shall have something to m to you“ this affair is of! my hands Capta "_ said Cline, coolly. “ Captain Beverly not! me and he will assure you that I come of » blood by two sides than any man in this ram, 7 I make no stipulations beyond the one they‘d must fl'ght here, and as soon as you can make the necessary arrangements. I waive the or weapons ea. Vin that with Mn Jones.”' “DOu’t ones,” persistedorhin ,‘ y,\ I. .1 r .t 1', .‘L‘ ‘ ' “ I never ' ‘ ‘ 16 The Specter Spy. “ Then Myou shall he posted as a coward thro h ontreal, and I will pull your nose in ,. the In ddle of Notre Dame. Do as you like about ‘-. it,” said Cline. ' if I “ I will fight,” said Jones. “ No man, gentle- i‘ man or the reverse, can say that Herbert Jones refusedtogive him satisfaction for a real or s , fancied insult.” * r “This way, Haverly,” said Ponsonby. “I i suppose little need be said. No apology will be received upon either side, since they have ex- changed blows. But Jones will run the follow through the body in three passes.” Haverl thought so too, and would have : given at ousand pounds to be certain that this would be the result. The preliminaries were soon arranged and the men took their places. They were to fight with the short-cut and thrust ’ .swordswhich gentlemen of that period wore, and as Cline had no weapon, the young man who had been drinking with Cline and Beverly. when the alfray commenced, offered his. “ You will find it a true blade,” he said. “Toledo nor Damascus ever turned out a better- I hope you ma succeed with it." line took his position with a better air than Haverly had supposed him to possess, and a mo- ’tvafter a s a metallic ring proolaimed the combat h ' commenced. Then, for the first time, Jones knew that his adversary was no ‘ t ' in the use of the sword. The heavy, stolid _ iirmness with which he made his passes and guards told that, though he had not been edu- f cated in the new school of swordsmanship, he had learned the old school well. Carte and ' counter-carts was his rule and his pliant wrist .‘ went like a windmill. J’ones practiced every N known artifice. but without avail. Those who .v looked on saw that Cline was fl hting just with- -in himself. and was keeping is powers for a ' . coup. His face, through the deadly com- .bat, kept the same unmoved smile. - “ What does this mean?” said Ponsonby. “ There is not a better swordsman in Montreal, it he can hold his own so easily against such a ’ ‘ blade as that of Herbert Jones. What is his ‘ . true name, Haverly‘l” “ I am not at liberty to say,” replied Haverly. “ I with Jones would run him through the bodv. curse him! But, ybu will see; the fellow will beat Jones.” I - . Perha Cline heard their whispering; but he only smi and still fought on quietly, parrying ' the maid rushes of Jones. who was trying to force t fighting. , . 3 “You Ind better yield, major,” said he, ' quietly. “I am more han your match. wice in the last five minutes I have had a chance to » but-why blade in you to the hilt.” “ hy don’t you do it?” said Jones. as he suc- ceeded in wounding his adversary slightly in the «fore-arm. “How do you like that?” ,_ Cline'suddenly changed his tactics and began . , Ian malt so vigorous and bewildering that '- Jones could not stand up against it. In spite of allhiseil'orts he went down with a-sword-thrust ' through the right lung. Cline wi his sword, . - Withya piece of paper he pick up, and was ; _ab‘0ut to give it up to its owner, when a thought . _ , V to'strike him. , -. -“ ould any other gentleman try a bout with me?” he said. “I am open for engagements, and if any gentleman talks of sending me to Coventry, I shall be forced to call him out.” Not a word was said, and he returned the blade to its owner and sat down again to his wine, while the officers went out with their wounded comrade. “My dear captain,” said the victor, “I could see by your eggs that you doubted my ability to cope with ajor Jones, and that you did not understand me when I promised to give ‘tho fellows.’a lesson. They partly understand me now, and they will know me better than to insult me in a place where I can have an opportunity to use my sword.” “You play well, Lieutenant Cline,” said Pear- son. “I own I was su rised. Do you think you have given our frien the major the coup de grace f?” “ Hardly. I could have done it if I chose, for though a good swordsman as far as mere play is concerned, he lacks head-work and coolness,- leaving man chances open for a man who keeps his hea . Let us go out into the street, as I intend to devote the day to teaching these youn snobs the true art of politeness.” “ on will excuse me, I hope," said Haverly. “ I have an engIagemeut.” “ Certainly; need no help.” “And I also must bid you good-day,” said Pearson. "By the way, what time do you in- tend to go out in chase of Allen?” “ I shall put that off until to-morrow,” replied , Cline. "Then I will ride with on as far as Cham- bly,” said Pearson. “ y road is the same as ours “We shall be glad of our company,” said Cline. “ I give you ood ay.” The three separate , Pearson turning ofl into Notre Dame and going north, Haverly walking toward the linen-draper’s residence, and Cline strolling down toward Presnott's quarters. He had not gone more than two squares when he met Captain Ponsonby, who passed him with his nose elevated at an angle of forty-five degrees, be the same more or less, apparently unaware that such a person was in existence as Cline. But the latter made two quick strides and laid his hand not too lightly upon the captain’s shoulder. Two or three men upon the other side of the street stopped and looked at them. “You heard what I said in reference to your manner of meeting me, Captain Pon< sonby,” said Cline. “ I Wish you would think it over.” “ What do you want?” “ I want you to recognize me civilly when I pass yo, ,” was the reply. “And you shall do it, too. “ Suppose I say I will not?” “ Do you say it?” “ Yes. ” \ Without further parley upon the sub 'ect, Cline lugged him by the nose and then lai his hand up n a pistol. “ Wi you fight?” said he. “ No,” replied Ponsonby. “ Not with a ser- vant.’ “ I say you are a coward. a roltroon, with- out a redeemi-irptv'ait. and I ‘wi l post you as an ~h on awry brick and stone in Montreal if you _ We ‘rtr‘é-v—va 'H The Specter Spy. refuse me a meeting. I am in earnest, sir, as you will find if you dare to brave me, or refuse to do me 'ustice.” ' “Stop! ' said Ponsonby, pale with rage. “I will meet you, but not with swords." ‘ “ I have challenged you,” snid’Cline, "and of course you name the weapon you prefer. I again leave the matter in the hands of Captain Haver— ly, and you must name your second.” “ Captain Withers.” “ Very good. My friend shall wait upon him in two hours from this time and arrange the matter. Say to your friends that I do not seek quarrels with any of them, but I am de- termined to take my proper place in society in spite of them all. I shall be at mess at mid- day and woe to the man who dares insult me.’ He walked away, and entered a tailor-shop a few doors below, leaving his enemy transfixed with wonder at his proud bearing, and half- sorry he had not sided with him. ut the af- front h‘ad been too 0 )enly given to admit of ex- cuse, and he must fig t it out. ‘ Chne ordered Some articles he needed, among others a dress uniform. He picked outa fati ue dress from the tailor's stock, and put it on. ‘0- ing into a swordmaker’s, he found a blade which suited him. When he came into the street, many who knew him looked at him in surprise, and thought he was masquerading. He said nothing to any one, but received and returned salutes from two of the young men who had been at the “ Gear 0," and who with great presence of mind. ha recognized the difference between a quarrel with Walt Cline, skip, flunky or valet. to Captain Wharton I-Iaverly, and a quarrel with Lieutenant Walter Cline, a capital swordsman, who had beaten the best blade in , the regiment. Cline had not been mistaken in ‘ his estimate of “ the fellows,” and that most oi.’ them would require only one lesson. He went into Prescott’s quarters, and was well received,. remaining there nearly half an hour. In the mean time, Haverly had arrived at the linen- draper’s, and had sent in his name. Mono. had not yet gone out for her ride, and received him in the little parlor. “ Doubtless Cyou havo seen my father,” she said, “ and un erstand that the impediment to my acquaintance, of which I spoke, has arisen. As he objects to my knowing you, I must ask you not to visit me againJ’ “ Canlyou he so cruel?” “ Excuse me, I have no option in the matter, and always leave these things for him to decide. Thanking you for. your timely aid the other day. I must beg of you to retire.” “ I am afraid you do not understand who I am, Miss Mona. My family is among the best known and wealthy in England, and if I have not yet risen high in my lprofession, it is not for lack of influence or wea t .” “ I am glad to hear it,” she answered, quietly; “ but what has this to do with me?” ‘ Haverly did not know how to begin. With that calm eye upon him, and that pure face turned toward him even his efl’ron was at fault, and he dared not speak the insult which was in his heart. ‘, “ he stammered,‘ “that I was “I had ho not wholly indi event to you.” “Nor are you, sir. I have thanked you for your kindness to me, and I do not know how I can well do more. But I have promised tomake this interview the last between Us. I have an engagement to fill, and must ask you to bring your Visit to a close.” ' J “ You don’t mean that l” I " “ It appears so.” ' ' “ The last visit!” “ Decidedly.” \, “ I will not give you up so,” cried the oung ' ‘ captain. .“ Listen to 1110’ I love on, an can- not live withont you. Promise love me in .- , return, and 1—” I a, r’ “ Stop!” said Mona, in her clear, rin g f ' ' voice. “ I have heard enough—more an‘ r enough—to satisfy me in relation to you. You . ask me to love you, and you say you love me— but how? If you value a whole skin, and do, netswish to die, leave me before my father comes in! I «A “ I do not fear him i” ‘ > 3 “ You do I His power, when he acted as your servant. was suillment to make you rather his servant, and it is not less now. Be assured 0 this that he shall hear of this insult.” r “ ow have I insulted you?” \‘ ' l _ “ By the mere offer of such a heart as yours,» ‘ which has been (pieced away a score of times, to; the ruin of con ding women. You see I you, and how. ure 8. thing your love is. Yousoe. V the door, sir; 0 so good as to go out at it, and come back here no more.” “ I shall not forget this language,” himd, Haverly. “You have refused my love, let In! ' see if you can elude my vengeance. ’ - . “ Do 011 Wish to make my father acquainted _- with this threat?” ' « ,. ,“Curse him, curse him i" muttered .Haverly.. “ Oh, if he were dead, I would make your lifeso I bitter to you that you would almost pray to be ' ‘ allowed to die. But you know his power and; my weakness. My time will come yet. But , must ask you a question. Do you love. an~- other?" ' _ “ I will not answer,” - ' “ But you must!" ’ ., “ I will not, and vou have not the war to‘ force it from me. Shall I ring the be and mm der on to be turned out?" .- . :- ‘ r - “ his last insult was not needed. I am 30-, ing; but one thing you must bear in mind, that is that I have an excellent memory." - . _ With these words he strode away, butl ’ lied, in secret in on the street corner until harem", was broug t out and she rode awa alone. 0an _ ing up the boy who was holding is‘own horse,', Haverl mounted and rode away on the course] ursue by her. As she rode down the street, . 6 saw her meet a boy who gave her a letter; -. which she read while sitting in the saddle. He . was near enough to see that she_was suml‘lledk at the contents, and was .cpliestiouing the boy eagerly. When she had flms ed, she turned into the street which led up the river and hurried“, away. The boy remained standing at the spot“ where she had met him, gloating over a golds? piece which she had given h1m,when Handy rode u , intending to question him.“ “ What have you there, mylad?" he said. V W “ Money,” said he. “ That’s the kind ofa ion ' » o! it." in haste, and ' ‘ surprise. 18 ‘ The Specter Spy. to get. The gentleman give me one piece, and she ive me another.” 2“ at gentleman?” ‘“ You ain’t him.” “I know it; but that does not answer my question.” ~ “ He could lick two like you, mister," said the 1 boy;, contemptuously. “ He could do it easy, too "I ill you tell me who you mean?” “ o,” reiplied the boy, grinning. “ N at if give you another gold-piece? I’ve K , got one for you.” f‘You’ve got two,” said the boy, “ or I’m mum as a drum with‘a hole in it.” “‘1 don’t mind; Now, who sent the letter to Mona Cline?” . . The boy, instead of answerin , put his hand i -' "into his packet, and pulled out t e letter he had brousfiht to Mona. “ e dropped it,” said he. “ Make the most CHAPTER VIII. rwo LOVERS. ‘ , WEARTON Hsvnanr opened the letter which he held in his band and read it, with a start of ‘ “ DEAR Moan—I arrived two nights ago. and have been on-rthe watch. Should have seen you if pos- sible, but had too much business. Meet me at once at the point on the island where you rode with Wharton Haverly yesterday. B." 4 “ It is as I thought,” muttered the captain. “She loves some one and he appoints a meeting. Enough; I will be there." - Turn his horse’s head he followed uickly - i v‘ in the pang: taken by Mona, and soon be her in sight; She never looked back, being evidently he saw her at length pause in a little thicket upon the point, near the place where the Wizard Canoehad first been seen. . Tying his horse inathicket, he crept forward on foot. and saw her standing beside her horse ‘upon a little eminence, looking out upon the river. As he gazed, the bushes upon the bank parted, and the young man who had met him at the George s rung up the bank with a quick bound, and one. leaving her horse, extended both hands to him with a beartiness which showed that she was unfeignedly glad to meet i- again and again toher hands. in. “Bernard.” she cried. "I am so glad you "have come.” “ My darling Mona,” he said, ressing his lips ‘ [have counted . the hours untilIshould see you again. How have you been this weary time we have been ‘ separated? Oh, will the time ever come when I can claim you for m, own, in dearest?” “ It will. come in ’s g time, Bernard. Until then we 'must wait and watch. I am glad to see you here, but think of the danger you. must/ run “your true character was but known.” . “ Hush: ‘ tell it not in Gath nor let the sound reach Askelon,’ or the fat will be in the fire. Mona, you have no idea how much I .endureYor your sweet sake. Since the “ time I ,saw you in Quebec I have been working ‘ tor you, and I have determined to ,prove that v V , g , v . \ . V>J_> $11 are not bound by any law of nature to obey alter Cline as you do. In a few days, at the furthest, the work will be done. When Mon- treal is in our hands, I will tell you what I know.” The hidden man ground his teeth hard and laid his hand upon a weapon. He had it in his heart to fire and make an end of one who, it was evident was a foe and a spy. llut he dared not do it now, with Mona looking on. Who was Bernard, and what did he mean by the fall of Montreal? Was he one of the assistants whom Ethan Allen bud foundso useful in all his expeditions? He would walt and see. “ I will not talk to you of the work we have to do, my dear Mona,” said the youn man. “ Let that ass. To-morrow I go with alter Cline and harton Haverly to capture Ethan Allen. An odd business for me, is it not?” “ You will not do it.” ‘ “ I have promised.” .1 “But think of what you do. If you place ourself in their power, and they find you out, ow will you escape their vengeance?” “I must do my work,” replied Bernard. “ Ours is a high and holy mission, the salvation of a great country and the foundation of a ength and breadth of the eat world we live in. Let things go as they wi 1, Bernard Pearson will be true to his duty.’ “ I know on are brave, even to rashness, and it is this w ich makes me anxious about you. Do you know this fearful bein who haunts Montreal, known as the Specter pyl" “ Have an heard him?’ .“ Yes. e has appeared to my father and to Wharton Haverly. and robbed my father of a valuable paper which he would give much to possess again. Whoever he may be, he has wonderful power and I fear him.” ‘ “ Let me say a word in respect to him. What- ever cause others may have to fear the Specter S 5*, you, and such as you, have no cause to be a raid, for he will do you no harm. I know enou h of him to promise this in his behalf.” “ 18" it is merely hearsay about his being a, spirit?” ‘ Some say yes: some say no. Ask me noth- ing of him, my dear Mona. 1 cannot tell you about him now. Some day you shall know all, and you will be as surprised as many others will be, to learn the history of the Specter Spy. I met yourrfather and Haverly at the George to-day, on the occasion of a duel between Cline ,and a pompous major who refused to recognize his new rank of lieutenant.” “I would not have him injured, for he has done nothin except kindness to me since I was a little c ild,” said Mona. “Was he hurt!” “ Not be! His address and skill with the small-sword are truly wonderful, and I should not care to have a bout with him myself, much as I pride myself upon sword-play. He is de- termined to force them to recognire him as their equal. and he will do it.” “ And Wharto Beverly?” “He is your fa her’s backer, and calls him his friend”. . 575%? small and narrow-mind IT, Power which shall one day be felt through the ' “one is forced to do it but at heart he is as 1’. ed as any 01 therest. _‘ 'I‘he Specter Spy. Oh, Bernard, I would, not for the world have him know that we love each other so dearly. 11‘ he did, in his vindictive cruelty he would stop at nothing. not «yen to shedding blood." ' Ho had bettcr not be impudent to you, or I will twist his neck like a partridge. Your face lieu-:71sz you, Mona; he has been impudent to you. “ No, no.” “ But, I say yes. Has he dared, the low-lived hound? I will call him out to—morrow.” “ If you uarrel with him for whatho has done I shall 9 very angry. I care nothing for what he said in the heat of assion, after I had forbidden him the house, ct he is vindictive and I would have you beware of him. How did you come here?” . “By canoe.” . “ I did not see you when you came up.” “ I was hugging the shore as I do not care to be any more cons icuous than I am obliged. Let us drop these usiness subjects and let me tell you how much I love you.” For more than an hour the two sat together hand in hand, conversing in so low a tone that Haverly could hear but little they said. Yet he kept his position until Bernard Pearson arose. ' “ I will see you a sin tonight,” he said. “Walk, after seven o'c ock, upon the lower side of Notre Dame, above the George. Wear a i" ii so that no one can recognize you, and I will meet you.” There was a tender farewell from Mona, and he kissed her lips again and again, while Haverly bit his own white lips to keep himself from 0 'ng out in his rage. But he could stay no on er, and stealing hack to his horse, he mounts and rode away, keepin the bushes between him and the lovers. AIter riding a Short distance he halted behind a clump of elders and waited for Mona. Fifteen minutes passed before she came, riding slowly and hang- ing down her head, and he saw that she was weepinf. “That accuised dog,” he muttered. “ I sha 1 find him out yet.” When she came opposite to his retreat he rode out and joined her. “ You see I keep my word,” he said. “ I am not going to give you up so easily; and so, see- ing you ride cut, followed. Let us take ad- yalili‘tege of this lovely morning and have a a -‘ “ Excuse me, Captain Haverly. If you are a gentleman ou wil not force your society u on mo.”when assure you that it is distastefu to me. on too well to yield tamer to your first out- ireak. I think you will wil change your mind in reference to me.” “ I never shall.” . “Let me entreat you. I repeat what I said to you this mornin , and wish to make you my wife. Knowing t at, of course it makes a chan e.” ' - “I you wish to escape sound in body, you will not say any more, Captain Haverly. I hope to be spared the disgrace of ever being the wife of such as you." V . ‘ isgracel” “Faint heart never won fair lady. Ilove' “ I said so. Doubtless you think it an honor and others may think the same. I shall no quarrel with their choice, but my election is made, and I would sooner live in companionship with the most savage things in nature than to suffer on as your wife.” “ Stop,” said Iiaverly. “Enough of insults from your lips. I understand you fully and I know, why you do not love me. Do you see ‘~ this.” ‘ lio extended the note which Bernard Pearson i had sent her that morning. Mona changed countenance and searched for the letter, and r satisfied that she had lost it, snatched it from the hand of the captain. “ Are you a thief as well as a coward?" she cried. The question literally took away his breath. “ Thief! What do you know~what have you heard? Has Cline betrayed me?” ‘ “ Did you not steal this letter?” “ No,” he replied, taking courage. “ I bought it from the boy who brought it to you.” “ And read it?” - “Certainly. What! would I give two guineas for it, if I did not intend to rea it?” ' i '1‘ There is nothinf wrong in it.” - » “No? What it go to your father and say " that you grant secret interviews to unknown youn men?” ' “ ou dare not tell him.” “ And why not?" i ' “ I would repeat the insults you have oflered". _, me to—day, and your life would hardly be safe, i " forfiwith all his faults, Walter Cline loves me, _ we . ' “I will take my chances. If he thinks my’ offer of -to-day an insult, I am mistaken; and.- . . ' will defy him to do his worst in reference to his power over me.” . ’ “Nonsense; you are trembling even [IOWA I} did not think you a coward until now." I ’ . “Didgou not? Nor am I a coward, as you shall fin to your cost. As a proof of this, I am going to taste those ripe lips of yours and see if , they are as sweet as they are beautiful." , / . .- Before she had time to think he passed his about her waist, and kissed her twice. Shere- ‘ leased benefit by an effort and sprung from the '-‘ saddle, and to his surprise she held a pistol .in‘ her hand. - “ Get down," she said. i , ‘R . . “What do you mean? Don’t take it in such ‘. terfil’fle earnest. Any man may kiss a pretty 1r . y -' “ Get down, I say. If you do not, I shall fire, and I never miss. Make haste.” , _ \ He dismounted, seeing h the flash in her eyes. . . - that she intended to keep er word. » “Tie your horse to that limb,” .she said, pointm‘ infiwith the pistol. “Secure him walL? ' e obe ed under the compulsion of the leveled pistol an that unshrinking eye. When he had tied his horse well she threw her own bridle over . a bush and approached .im. ~ _ . “ Knee] down!” she d. » ,, " N Eh?” V I “ Knee] down i” “ But I don‘t understand this.” “ You will by the time I have done with you; Knee] down or I Will shoot you with as little} The Specter Spy. I mercy as I would any venomous brute which as- “. sailed me." i . - .‘ “ But, you surely—do not mean it. The oflense , i . was so slight, tha ” r “I will conut three. At the word three if 'r you are not on your knees I shall the at you. 4" , would not advise you to be standing at the ‘ A 'r tinge.” n , «23:27, ,3}, V “ You really must—” , ~ I “Two!” i , The istol was leveled and her finger was al- 1‘ ' ready earing hard upon the trigger, when l Haverly dropped upon his knees. She stood , ~ ‘ / looking down at him with a cold smile, holding ,+ ~ ' the pistol ready and reading his disgrace in his . , writhing face. I i , “ You have offered an insult to the daughter of the people in your arrogance and pride. A daughter of the people repels an insult: and ’ ,yavenges it in her own person. One insult was not enough and you heaped others on it. Beg mfipardon.” ‘e did so, in the most abject terms, for he saw that she would shoot him if he refused. Then she raised her riding-whi and struck him twice across the face, raising ivid welts where the lash fell. Then turning, she bounded into the saddle. ‘ r “ Keep your place,” she cried, as he attempt— ed to rise. “ I do not desire to be followed by you", neither will I be. If you come within pistol-shot of me while I am riding home, I will take a shot at you.” She rode away at a rapid pace, leaving him , ~ kneeling on the sod. He r0se slowly, passing . 7 his hot hand across the rod ridges on his face, ' and muttering to himself like a man in a dream. He had been disgraced by this girl, disgraced -\ beyond recall, and nothin but her utter ruin . could atone for it. But, ow was that to be brought about? He sat down upon a stone and thought it over. The sun had passed the me- ridian when he rose, and releasin his horse, rode awa . As he did so, a wil laugh rose from, the ashes by his side, the laugh he knew but too well. _ “Hal ha! ha! Disgraced by a girl, and he 8: ' thinks it is not known.” ‘ , . With a yell of rage Hoverly dashed into the . “ bushes from which the voice issued, when he ‘_ was prostrated by a heavy blow upon the head. is ' CHAPTER IX. * ’ THE COMPACT. , WHEN Haverly rose, still dizzy and half-stun- - ' ned, the expression of his face was demoniac. _ When no one but Mona knew his shame, he did - not care for it so much, but now another knew , ‘ Lt, an: tgat outfithgalfiing hi3l mogt (greadeid, the r . e caug ta ee ingg impse * , of? tall Kgure risingJ above the bushes before a , the blow was dealt, at not enough to fix the , figure in his mind. His horse, a trained animal, a still stood where he had been left. Reaching .i'the saddle with difficulty, the captain rode into ? Montreal, determined to find out and punish the E man who had dared to win the love of Mona if i i . ‘ I 1: h l i .. flat-’51; ' i d . .m . VI» ... W. I» v ,.. .2; ..:=. l Cline from him. They would meet that night, ‘ ' and he would be there. He had not ridden a hundred yards when he heard the sound of voices, and a turn in the path showed him Walter Cline. in the undress uniform which he had purchased, attended by a young lieutenant in their regiment, one of the two who had met and saluted the newly-com- missioned officer in the street after his encounter with Jones. They greeted him cordially. “ Lieutenant Myerby has consented to act as my second in an affair with Captain Ponsonby who has insulted me,” said Cline. “They will be here directly.” “ Another duel i” “ Ah, yes. I may as well have them over. I mean to prove to these entlemen that my cour- age and skill are undou ted, and then they will be forced to receive me as an equal.” “ Do you fight with swords?” “I think with pistols. It is immaterial, as far as 1 am concerned; all weapons suit me equally well. By the way, where have you been?’ “I will tell you when this affair is at an end, if you will accompany me; though I wish to say that Ponsonhy is a dead shot, and has alread killed his man." “In eed? I have fired a pistol myself before now. Let us see how the affair will turn out, for it matches quickly now. I think I hear them coming. and this is the place ap- pointed.” The rattle of boots proved that be was right, and a moment after two men rode u , who proved to be Ponsonby and his secon . The principal was attired in a full suit of black, but- toned te the chin, showing not a speck of white as a mark for an adversary’s bullet. Cline smiled as he saw this arrangement, but said nothing. Before he took his ground however, they saw him turn back his wristbands and but- ton his coat closely, with the air of a man who knew what he was about. “ Will you use your own pistols or ours?” said Pon-vonby’s second. “We have a fine pair of hair—trigger. which have seen service.” “ I prefer to use my own,” replied the lieuten- ant. “Give me that box from my saddle-pouch, Haverly." Wharton complied, and opening a mahogany case, they saw a ' of pistols of ex uisite finish, whose barre s, of the bronzed stee then just coming into vo us, were as perfect as wea- pons could be. He andled them with the air of one who knew their use, and offered Ponson- by a. choico. He saw at a glance that thev were better weapons than his own, and took one, which he gave to his second to load. There was little time lost in the preliminaries, and the rincipals were placed ten aces apart, waiting or the word, which was to given by Lieuten- ant Myerby. “Before we fire,” said the ex-servant, “ I wish tobe fully understood. I have no feeling person- ally agtainst Captain Ponsonby. On the don- trary, should be, roud to rank him asm friend, but I must ta e my standing in my regi- ment without loss of time, and shall challenge any man who sees (it to impugn either my mo- tives or my character. With this explanation, the duel need not be of a sanguinary character unless it is forced upon me." W \T‘ y l l ,‘u. The Specter Spyr 4H1, . ,1: rm ;_ _ . ‘ ~ 1,... «. ' Myerby stood about uidistant from the two opponents, out of the ine of fire, holding a pistolinone hand and a. handkerchief in the other. “Remember, gentlemen, I propose to count three and drop the handkerchief. The man who withholds his fire, or fires before the word three, I will shoot. Are you ready?” N Yes.” it Yes}, “ One—two—three l” The handkerchief dropped, and the weapons exploded. The pistol-hand of Ponsonhy fell powerless to his side, and Cline stood erect With- out a scratch, waiting to give his adversary an- other chance, if he so desired. But Ponsonhy had enough of it already, as his arm was broken by the shot, and he could not lift it. Cline ad- vanced and extended his hand, which Ponsonby nece ted. _ “ on are a man of honor, to say the least, and I will myself defend you if your character isassailed. beg your pardon on my own ac- count.” “It is unnecessary,” replied Cline. “Under the circumstances you could do no less. You had letter let the surgeon look at your arm, for I fear it is broken.” “ This is my affair,” said the surgeon, thrust- ing in among them. “ Who has a sharp knife or da ger? Ah, this will do." 9 cut the sleeve of the black coat to the elbow and bared the arm. The bullet had entered just below the elbow, and had broken one of the small bones of the fore-arm. The fracture was not a bad one, and the experienced surgeon soon set it. and the party were in the saddle on their we back to the city. averly and his companion separated from the rest at the Geor e, and there secured a pri- vate room, where averly told the story of his afternoon's exploit, incluuin even the horse- whipping he had received at t e hands of Mona, laying it entirely to his offer of marriage. “ The girl is one of spirit,” said Cline, with a slight smile. “I warned you.” But what do you think of her meeting this stranger by the river?” ‘ “ I can hardly believe it. Look you, Wharton Haverl , the girl is a good one, and has been a faithfu child to me. She will explain this affair when I meet her.” “They meet again to-night. I tell on she has deceived lyou in this matter, and t at this affair is of on standing. if you had heard their loving wor s as I did, you would think as I do, that it should he stopped.” “It shall be. Now look at me and listen to what I say. If you (prove to me to my satis- faction that Mona line meets any stranger without my knowledge, I will promise to aid you in making her your Wife. Understand In full —in making her vour wife.” < “ ough; I will do as you say. Meet me again at half-past seven. in the coffee-room, and I will prove this fully.” “ Agreed,” said Cline. They went down into the coffee-room and found Pearson there, sitting alone at a table mying with. rather than drinking, a glass 0 Mudcua,, He nodded quietly, not at all with the air of a man who had been engaged in any mischief. “ If you have told the truth about the fellow he is a cool one " said Cline, in a low tone. ‘-‘ It does not look ' e it.” “I hear you have had another affair, Lieu- tenant Cline,” he said. “ Your name is in every man’s mouth, and, my word for it, they will be civil to {on in the future.” “ We ave a little supper at the barracks at eight o’clock,” said Cline. “ Could you not make one of us?” - “ Not so early as eight o’clock,” re lied Pear- son. “ I have an engagement whic will keep me from seven until perhaps half-past eight. _ After that, I shall be quite at your service.” i “ We can send some one to meet you and take you to the barracks at any hour you name,” he said. “ Shall we do so?" “I shall be honored by your so doing, and proud to come,” replied Pearson. “it is agreed, then; oofl—afternoon. and make your engagement as s ort as you can." The two passed out, leaving Pearson alone. . He sat there half an hour longer, si pin his wine and meditatiieiE. At the end of t at t me, ‘ he rose and stroll out of the house, walking toward the river. Taming abruptly into a dark street, he knocked at the door of a small house. The knock was answsred by a servant, ‘ who admitted him without question to a small rogpi, in which a small man was seated at a ta e. . “Ah, Bernard," he said, “I am glad to see , you; for, to say the truth, your daring ex-' ploits make me tremble for you. How have you‘ ' succeeded?” ‘ “I have seen her and had’a long converse? ‘1 tion with her. I assure you, Milburn, that when 1 you come face to face with her the varied graces, of body and mind, which she ~- will astonish you, and you will no longer won- ‘ der that I love her so dearl .” , “ Did you tell her any thing?” “ I dared not. Our own project was sofullj of interest to me, that I thought better to let her affairs, which are now safe, work them— - selves out. When Montreal is in our hands, it will be easy for me to explain. do you know I am asked to supper?” ‘ With whom?” “ With our friends, Haverly and Cline.” “ Will you go?" “We are sworn with a smile; “but, for all that, I do not trust their}. Hark you, Milburn, a word in your ". ear. He whispered some instruction into the ear of Milburn, who nodded his head quietly, and they began to talk in louder tones. ‘ That is understood. then,” said Bernard. “ I think I had better go with them to this supper, but whether I shall go out With them to ca ' Allen is another affair. wild if he knew that I loved his da hte .” “He will know it soon. His dang terl Oh, ; ‘ let the time soon come when I can meet him, Q glee Jo face, and lay his secret life hare before ' n! ' .. “ Take time, Milburn. Surely, you have suffered long enough to bear this with patience, By the way, '. Walter Cline wo dgo . ‘1 brothers,” replied Bernard,“ ’ 1 n W. ,.,,w‘ ‘1 > = ., 82 I , v ' The Specter Spy. “ , I came here to put you on your guard, and '= ’ ‘ arrange this little matter with you. I must 1 ' , leave you now, for it is nearly time for supper, .x» after which I meet Mona.” Milburn was a new man in Montreal having re , sided there less than a. year. Few people knew F“ , anything of him, beyOnd the fact that he was a 5: . gentleman of means, who lived retired, shutting » himself up with his books, rarely appearing in the streets except upon the Sabbath, when he 1* attended church service. His slight fl ruro could j , then be seen seated in his own pew, in t e shadow ff of the pulpit, hearing nothing but the words of l ‘ the divine. He was not an old man, not more 2),- . than forty; but years of care had set their seal 1.; upon a brow once smooth and white as a girl’s. if, Pearson shook hands with him cordially, and "e -: they .88 rated. He had hardly left the room when ilburn rung the bell, and hi; servant ap- peared. The man was a powerfully~built fellow with the arms and chest of a gladiator. ' “ What is it?" he said, shortly. . “Get your club anglers it beside my sword, ’ so that we may be re y to arm ourselves when we 0 out.” “ At what time?” h “ At seven, Matthew.” ’ , “ I shall be ready,” replied Matthew, and went out, closing the door carefully. Miburu took a fiaper from his bosom and spreading it out upon is desk, studied it carefully, and was so engag- ed when Matthew brought in lights and supper. 'He ate a little, drank a glass of wine, and called / for his sword. Matthew brought in a black belt, con ' a pair of handsome pistols. and a long. narrow to do of the best steel, which Milburn ' drew from the scabbard and looked at with a. \ dark smile, as he poised and balanced it. "‘ » " I wonder if my hand has lost its ancient ‘ ' skill," he murmured, “ since the time when I taught Walter Cline how to use his blade? He. was an apt scholar, too; God pity him in the hour when we meet as enemies to the death. Come, Matthew.” . The man took up a heavy oaken staff, bound with iron. and led the way into the hall. When . his master had out, he closed and looked ' ' the inner and outer doors, putting the keys in his poc et. _ I "You must lead, now,” he said. “I only live ‘, to obey your orders.” ~ Milburn said not a word, but striking into a rapid walk. set of! up the street, closely ollowed by Matthew. ~ Haverly was ready when seven o’clock came and found Cline waiting. He had provide a heavy cloaks reaching to the heel and complete- li concealing their garments. In addition to t is disguise, each carried beneath his cloak a mask of Venetian lace, which they kept ready to put on' should occasion require it. “ Where did you say they were to meet?” ask- ed Cline. “ In Notre Dame, above the George.” replied Beverly. “ Unless I am much mi en, yon- der is the man." . A heavy figure emerged from a side-street, and ' . went on before them at a rapid pace. which » made-them step out brisle. They put on their , as they walked, and pulled their slouched hats down over their foreheads, quickening their pace as they did so. It was hardly necessary, for the next moment the man in front metalad closely vailed, who said something to him whio they could not hear and took his arm. He turned and came back with her, talking in an animated tone of voice, to which she made low answers. She was speaking when they passed the two disguised men, and both recognized Pearson, while neither doubted that the lady was Mona. She could conceal her face, but she could not hide that wealth of dark hair flowing half-way to her feet. “ Are you satisfied?” whispered the young captain. “ Have I told you the truth?” ‘You have. Now satisfy me that she loves him, an-l I will keep my word with you, even so far as forcing her to be vour Wife, if necessary.“ “ I will do that.” said Haverly. eagerly. “ Step into this dark alley. They will not walk for in that direction, but will turn back.” Bernard and his companion continued down the street for a. hundred yards, then came back. As they passed the spot where the two men were hidden, they walked slowly, and she was speak- ing: “ Nothing but my love for you. dear Bernard, will make me conceal anything from my father, viilho “is very kind to me. You ought to know t at. Haverly felt the spasmodic grip of Cline upon his arm and understood it. The compact was made. Bernard Pearson must die. CHAPTER X. A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. FOR half an hour or more the lovers walked up and down the open space, passing and re ass- ing the crouchin figures in the shadow 0' the building. Cline new that when eight o’clock struck upon the great bell in the uare tower to the right they would leave the es. They were directly opposite the alley w en the hell mug, and both stopped to listen to the musical m ,, 1 . “We inust part,” said Bernard. “ You do not fear to go alone to your home?” “What 5 ould I fear? Have I not the pistol you ave me?” ' “ es, and you know how to use it, if the time comes, as you did to-rlay u n that dastaril who assailed you. My brave girl: my heroine!” “ Your praise is veiiy sweet to me, Bernard,” she said, softly, “and thank you for it. Good- night.” Their lips clung together in a passionate kiss and she was gone, leaving Bernard standing alone upon the pavement. looking after her. As he turned away he was confronted by two men in long cloaks, who wished him good night as they passed him. He saw that they wore their hats pulled low upon their brows. S we instinct- ivo feeling caused him to turn, and he did so only to see that they had drawn their swords and were springing at him. ' Quick as thought his own blade flashed from the scabhard and a low, clear whistle from Bernard’s lips broke the silence of the street. The blind of a house near which they stood was opened on the instant, and a flood of brilliant light fell upon the trio, then the window itself Vt, . ,3; 1.?" 1‘! is if, N ,r . y \ W The Specter Spy. ',_“ ' v ‘ :’_ . ’ , ‘ luv" was thrown open and two men bounded out at them. Cline caught the flash of another steel blade and turned to meet its owner, leaving Bernard to Haverly, with a dim foreboding that they had got themselves into trouble. “ Who are you?” he cried, as he crossed blades with the new-comer. “ Your master,” was the reply, in the voice of Milburn, and Cline uttered a ow cry of dismay, as if that voice had brought old memories fresh to his mind. Nevertheless he fought with the skill and daring of a man trained in the exercise of arms. Great as his science was it was useless against the blade which Milhurn bore, for Cline’s weapon was twisted from his grasp just as Haverly was beaten to his knee by the club of Matthew. “ Away!” cried Milburn. “ The patrol is coming. You two escape for this time, but there is a heavy reckoning in store for you. Follow me, sir!” The three sprung down the alley which led in- to Great St. James just as two or three of the patrol rushed to the spot. Cline had presence of mind enough to pull ofi? his companion’s mask and cloak, together with his own, and fling them on the sidewalk. “ What is this?" cried the leader of the patrol. “ Stand, in the name of the king.” “ This way,” replied Cline. “ Here are two ofiicers of the -— assailed by masked men and one of them nearly slain. Who is that?” “ Sergeant Wooclhouse. Is that you, Lieu- tenant Cline?” “ Yes. We were assaulted by two men armed with swords and another armed with a huge club, the latter of whom struck Captain Haver y on the head.” “Uni hl It seems to me Captain Hover] is very u ucky this week. Upon my word, if ' keeps on his head will be beaten to a poniace. Which way did the rascals go?” - “Down that alley. Follow them as fast as you can. See, they have thrown down their masks, the rascals.’ _ I Woodbouse darted down the alley in pursuit, while Cline assisted Haverly, and they proceed- ed slowly toward the “ George.” Few were the words that either spoke. When they approached and entered the tavern, to their utter surprise the saw Bernard Pearson sitting at his own tab e sipping his wine with the same expresswn of perfect ease and uiet which he had worn when they left him be ore sugper._ “ Come for me, I suppoae,” e said. “ I meant to have been here sooner, but a couple of rascals assaul me in the street, and 1 should have fared badly, if strangers had not come to my nid. Two to one I find to be great odds iii‘ the dark, and I must have gone under in a moment more.” - r “ Did you know who assaulted out” “ How should I. when I hard y know three people besides ourselves in this good town?” “ And you do not even know who saved . on?“ v ' y “ No, nor care much for that matter. But, how about our en agement at the barracks—is it not time to 0?” e rose as he spoke, and then added: “ y the way, don’t you think we had .better take young Myerby with us?" ‘any thing wrong. But istaco expressed notlyng. “ Have him if you like,” said Cline. I should ' _ , be gladof his company; he did me good service ‘ ._ f: to—day in my aflair With Ponsonby. Where is , a. he now?” “ In his room. Shall I call him-down?” “ if you will be so kind.” Bernard left the room, and as he did so, ' . Haverly put his mouth close to the ear of Cline, 5 ~ ’ and whispered: , “ Have the oniard with you—the one you took from me t at night when—” “ When you did me the honor to attempt my life? Certainly; I have it now.” - v “ Then why not touch, this oung devil with ‘ its point! It is easily done. ou have but to touch him so as to draw blood, and in an hour he will be a dead man and no one will be the I wiser.” , w “ I am not an assassin. Do your own dirty . work. I am willing to take my part in killing H him, face to face and foot to foot, but no poison r for me. If he is to die by my hand it shall be in a fair fight, and not by fraud an treachery.” “ Did you not promise to aid me?” - “Yes, and I will keep my promise. You‘ shall have my good word in making Mona your-x » i:v‘life, ,but I think she would sooner be V we. ' ‘ ‘ “ Hush; here he comes now.” - I ,r .v , Bernard came in with his arm linked in that ’ ‘ of the young lieutenant, and they were soon at “ the barracks. The supper had alread com-" menced, but the officers made places or the new-comers, and every one attended to the busi—’ ‘_ ness of eating until the cloth was removed and ‘5’ the wine came on. Bernard had been introduced .r to the company as a young gentleman from“ "i1" Quebec, come to see life in Montreal. Hishnndn ‘-§’ some face and figure at once commanded atten- ‘ tion, and his easy manner of conversatiou and; lively salli‘es soon made him a favorite. ' The wine being on, up rose Major Lanai acting for J ones who gave the supper but non not attend, for obvious reasons. ‘ . ‘ . “ The first toast, gentlemen, is oneto which all will respond wi feeling hearts. Every? Englishman s heart must bound responsiv _ when the name of his sovereign ism‘enti , ; God save the king.” ‘ ’ .x‘ Every glass but that of Bernard Pearson was lifted high, and his would have been but for an: accident. As he went to raise it tohis lipehe~ struck the glass upon the edge of the table and broke it into fragments. Few noticed the acci- dent, and then it was too late to beremedled. , The toast had been duly honored. ' i‘ . “ You did not have an opportunity of drink; ' « ‘ mg the, king’s health,” sax Cline. “ Waiter, ‘. give this gentleman another glass.” , , \ “ I must have taken a drop too much before IN came here “said the youn man, with his li ht, laugh. “l am remarkab y awkward to-nig t; and am sorry to lose the pleasure of drinking the king’s health. Indeed. l have strong hopesthat' God will save his Majesty. Like his dutiful -' subjects, he needs it badly.” . ‘* Some of those about the table were haltin- clined to take umbrage at the tone of his lipase ' 1 and looked at the youn man to see it he men a}, 7 '24 The Specter Spy. “ of the kind they looked for, and they concluded f , to basis it over. r be next toast was, “ Success to the British 2' ’ Army and Navy. May they soon bring back these erring colonies to their allegiance to the true cause" Bernard raised his glass to his lips t with the rest, muttering something to himself l ' as he did so, and drank the toast. 3" "‘ Did you speak?" said Cline, who sat next to v m. ;v “I was thinking aloud—u bad habit I shall i: _' never overcome," replied the young man. “ It ' r ‘ was nothing of any moment, and you may as _ ' well pass it over.” r v ' 4 Captain Haverly now rose, instigatml by Cline, , ' and leaning gracefully upon the table, began a ~ neat little speech. ., “I mustvcrave the indulgence of my brother x omc'ers for a moment. There is a new man : -amon us, one who has for some time been I place in a false position by his own choice, and ’ who toda takes the station among you to . ~ which by birth and education he is entitled. ' . Some of my brother officers took umhruge at 1 / his being commissioned, and put his/courage to ‘ the only test we have. ’l‘wice this day he has been out, and in both cases opposed to a man . who, with the articular weapon used, is simply , amaster. In th cases he was victorious, a.- ' Ma'or Jones. if he were here, and Captain Pon- son y. can testify. I myself will be his warrant ‘ . that as pure blood flows in his veins as in those of tiny man I see before me, myself not excepted, and you know what the blood of the Haverlys is. I propose we drink the health of Lieutenant ; Cline in bumpers.” A .’ j. ' ‘“ I second the proposition,” said Captain PonA ' .so'nby, rising. “Let us prove to this gallant . . gentleman that we are above small dealings of _ . any kind, and that we honor bravery wherever , we may see it.” I' “To your feet, gentlemen.” said the major. “ The health of Lieutenant Cline.” . Every man rose, some of them unwillingly ' but forced by public opinion to take this course, , alsoknowing that any man who refused to do i". " honor to the toast would be promptly challenged ' , by Cline, and none of thorn desired the doubt- ful honor of oinz out with him either with ‘ pistol or swori . Cline remained seated until allrhud resumed their places, when he rose slow] and thanked them for the honor they had done him and their kindness in meeting ; , himso frankly, who had come among them un- ‘ der such unfavorable auspices. Ho Slit down ' amid a general clamor of applause, in the midst Of which he turned to Haverly with the question: - “ How about ‘ the fellows,‘ now?” (V Beverly was dumb. CHAPTER XI. 1 ~ _ in run Lion’s JAWS. ‘ ‘IN the midst of the revelry. a man came to . the door and called for Mr. Bernard Pearson. (5-,;Bernard turned and saw Matthew, the stout .s servant of William Milhurn, Cline also saw 9 jhimfimd springing up, looked at him like a man » ’ Whosees a. vision. Matthew did not seem tosee him, but beckoned to Bernard, who rose and‘ followed him without any words he end an ex- cuse for his abrupt departure. e followed Matthew through the dark street to the house of Milhurn, whom he found seated in the same room where they had met before. " I have news!” he cried. “ Allen has raised a l . good force of Canadians, and is on his march. At La Prairie he met Major Brown, and they intend to assail Montreal to—night. It must not be done. If you do not stop it, woe to the expo— dition of Montgomery.” “You say true, but if I attempt to leave Montreal tie-night I may be taken.” “ You must take the chances. It is a question of the salvation of the army, and you must not hesitate.” “ Do not think I fear the dull 7or to myself,” replied the young man. “if El fall, promise me that you will convey the intelligence to Monu as tenderly as may be, for it will be sad news to her.” “She shall think of you as a martyr. if you fall. But of that I have no fear. You will do well enough. Away, and cross the river (is Soon as you can. You will know how to (10 it." Their hands met in a cordial pressure, and the young man was gone. Ethan Allen had been for snne days union the Canadians and Indians in the vicinity of t e Sorel and Cham- bly, and had written to Montrromery that he would join him in front of 31;. John’s, for the capture of that place. Marching up the eastern bank of the St. Lawrence, intending to keep his word with General Montgomery, his scouts aggrised him of the approach of an armed force. 9 destiny of this brave man, and of Montgomery, might have been different but for this unfortunate meeting. He was about to en— gage this armed arty, when signals well known to him apprised im of the fact that the strange force was a part of the army of Montgomery. The leaders met, and the new-comer was found to be Major Brown, with an advanced party of“ '~ ‘;. Americans and Canadians. Brown had been '2 scouting in the vicinity of Montreal, and knew ' ' the small force of regular troops within the xi walls, and that it could be easily surprised. "r; “ I am glad to meet you, colonel,” said Brown, : as they shook builds. “Here is achance for another Ticonderoga affair, if you like. I have scouted about here until I am certain it can be one. The giant frame of Allen dilated at the thought of doing the country another ign’al serVice. ‘ u I would not like to risk it until I have heard 1 from a man I sent out some days ago, and who . r, i I .1.-'- A.AQA_. .' ' ought to have joined me before new." “ But, there is no risk. All you have to do is to get canoes together at Longueil, and cross the riVer to the island. below the city. There you will wait until I have crossed with two hundred men above the town, when I will give you a signal, and Montreal is ours.” This was the very project to catch such a man I ‘ as Ethan Allen, having in it so much of the - daring which formed so dieting ishing a char- acteristic of this highly remarks le person. He thought it over and,the more he thought of it the more feasible it seemed, and he struck his / .i' x; 1'2"» T w" ‘ l r “ r755 “49ft! “ .155, who nave-Maw a: ' than.-. -. . , . 1 MM" w. .s. . l 2*» V“) paw l r,- 4. m A AMI-mfg ,. In ark .c....,;,, _,,,‘K.. : . ‘ themselves as they can. ‘- ’~'.v" Mn \' . m. “~- K‘ ‘3 r ~ "-I .'\-.2".’4'” "rho Specter Spy: >,"‘ P.- broad palm into that of Brown with the single 'exclamation, “ God helping us, it shall be done!" To plan and follow his plan by immediate action, was the method of Allen. In half an hour the party were on the return march for Longueil, and at hi hi: were camped upon the eastern bank of the river below the city, collect- ing the necessary canoes for carrying out their plans. These were very few—so few that with their utmost eflorts they found it impossible to get enough to take all over at once. At mid- night tho wind was blowing strongly, but in the face of all, with three divisions of the troop, numberiu in all but ei rhty Canadians and thirty of llen’s famous xreen Mountain Boys, they crossed the river to the island, in full View of the cit , Whose walls rose dark and grim in front. T ey only waited for the signal of Brown, announcing that he had landed upon the upper side of the island, to rush forward to the assault and carry the town, as they had carried Ticonderoga, at one bold push. The signal did not come, and there, in the cold mist of that Canadian morning, Allen wait- ed for the sound which he was doomed never to hear. As he stood there, a low signal, which he know well, apprised him that one of his scouts was at hand, and he answered the call. It was a peculiar whistle, such as he had taught his comrades when they fled from the sherilf in the fastnesses of the Green Mountains, hiding among the rocks like the conios. “ Bernard Pearson,” he said. "I know his whistle among a hundred. Pass the word to the outposts that he is to be allowed to pass.” The word passed from man to man and Pear- snn, breathing heavily, like a man who had un- dergone violent fatigue, appeared at the side of Ethan Allen. The two stood face to face in the dim light—for morning was new coming—s len- did specimens of manhood. Allen extend his hand, which Pearson asped with warmth. “ I hope you will be ieve me, my dear colonel, when I say that I would sooner have my hands out ofi’ at the wrist than to shake hands with you in the (position you now occupy." “What 0 on mean?" “ You are eceived, betrayed. A creature of Preecott’s has escaped from Brown’s division, and brought the news of your coming to the arrison. Brown has been warned that the danger is greater than he imagined, and he will not come. You are in the toils, my gallant ‘colonel. Turn back, while there is yet time for you to escape.” “ What time is there?” “ Not twenty minutes. I have lost much time ching for you in the darkness, and have not been able to find you until now. Get into your boats, and escape.” . “ Boats! We must make three trips to carry my men to the other bank. There is not time each h.’ “ en escape yourselves and let the boys save ’I‘he will not com- lain—at least, not the ones w o own the Green contains for their home." ~ “ Not we!” shouted the Americans. “Let old than escape; 'we will stay and fight it out)” “ Only that I know the boys know better than to believe I would desert them, I would be angry. distinguish the red coats of aeompanyot -5..- ,. with them,” said Allen. “I hope I am not‘ » -,;'.“.‘z coward enough todo that. Oh that Brown would - i send his signal, and we would have the citieven 1'; now. So fair a plan balked by the cowar 'ee 01 ‘ the man who led me into this trap. I could cry with vexation. What is that noise?” ‘ “ The men have taken a prisoner, who was K sneaking in the bushes,” replied one 0! the I “ Boys." v “ Bring him in.” j They led him into the group, and Pearson . . ' 2’" drew back quickly, for hcsaw the face of Walter - ‘ Cline. Satisfied that Walter had not seen him he withdrew, leaving Allen to talk to him. 5 He was not very communicative, and though" manifestly a spy, they dared not in their res- ent situation. treat him as such. lie was p in charge of a guard, with ordersto keep him safe, but they were not equal to the task, (or a‘ _ _ quarter of an hour after the guard reported that , ho had escaped._ The morning was now 001110,.- cold and dreary, and the sound of drums trom- , the city warned them of the aplprrach of the . enem . A little band of one undred, three-1 fourths of them Canadians, stood upon the island verge, waiting in des rate silence for the com- ing of the force whic was to sweep them into the river. ‘ f. “ Bernard,” said Allen, taking the hand of his ;. 1,4 : oung companion, “there is nothing before us 5. 111: to die hard. Before that battle commences, .. r j. I ' I ask you, in the name of our common oounfl'y,‘- ;’ ' u to grant me one re uest. I shall not ask much , at your hands, and hopeyou will not refuse‘the ' request, which may be my last." “What is it?” “ Do you promise to grant it?” U I do.” .«, u a, « ,- u your honor? I , .‘ “I ask nothing stronger than that. Since; "have that promise, I am more than satisfied, The request is, that when I see that all hopelo gone. and give you the word, you will escape.” “ Ethan i" ' " f “Your promise, sir!” cried Allen, sternly. , - “It is given, and I never broke my word to friend or foe. But it was a cruel thingfior you to do.” / » “Why cruel?" ~ ' - “ You take from me the privilege which I: count glorious, to be allowed to die by your side: But, I have given my word.” ~“ “ An oath could not be stronger. Here they come, curse them! Speak to Ingoldsby, and'or—g- 3“ der him to begin with his rifles as soon as thg,‘ ' 3; - come in range. If we can beat them at um I ‘ Brown comes, all may yet be well.” ' ‘ S‘A curse upon him. He alone is to blame for this sad ending of a glorious exploit.” ,~ g ' “ Do not blame him, Bernard. If the ' heart failed at the moment when it should. vs been the strongest, he is not to blame, “ low. I pity a coward. To our duty I know that you will do the dut w .” x A motley group of over four undned lar troops Jmumd out of the city, Indians, In breeds an Canadians, shenanigans the come; Behind them, marchin With steady.me peculiar to trained Bri lsh regulars, they Gould’- oiiéwhalln‘ A.‘ “u... M...“ .a ,. r 26 ’ The Specter Spy. ~‘;h, under the command of Haverly and Cline. Hardly had the Canadian and Indian troops ap- peared, when the rifles of the thirty Americans, who were thrown to the front began to speak, and several men dropped under the heavy fire. Yells of rage and pain broke from the irregu- lars, and they sunk out of sight below the bushes and tangled ferns, and commenced a dropping [and ine ectual fire, which injured the tree-tops over and about the Americans, but did little more harm. The company of Haverly advanced ‘ and began their fire, raising their guns breast- high, according to their training, while the rac- ticed riflemen of Allen, taking sight throng the leaves, dropped a man almost every shot. Oh, for the coming of Brown at that moment! Mon- treal must have fallen, and Ethan Allen would never have borne the ignominy of British chains. But the coward, for a coward in a time like this is worse than a traitor, refused to come. The irre ulars declined to come to close quar- ters, and overly decided upon a charge. Form- ing his men under cover of a thick growth of ferns, he gave the word and they came out at the “double” with leveled bayoncts. Allen gave a great shout like that of a lion suddenly brought to bay, and snatching a rifle from the hands of a wounded Canadian, rushed to the front. The deadly fire of the rifles seemed to wither the front of the charging party and they sunk to the earth. A second fire brought them to a halt, and' in spite of the remonstrances of Cline and Beverly, they broke and fled to the cover of the bushes. “ Curse them,” growled Haverly, “they fight like demons.” . “ True." said Cline, “ but his men are desert- ing. Twenty of the Canadians have already come in, and the rest will follow. The men who are standing up so savagely are the "Green Mountain Boys’ of Allen, and their number is very small. What a terrible weapon is the rifle in ractical hands! I think we and better send a a5 and ask their surrender.” , “ 0 you think they will yield?” “ We can only try it,” replied Cline. “ I. think you had better let me carry the flag. I have most of the American quality known as brass.” Taking a ramrod from a gun, Cline fastened his handkerchief to it, and advanced the white symbol from the bushes before he followed it in rsonu Allen gave the order to his men to cease ring, and Cline came boldly forward, with the white flag thrown into the hollow of his arm, until he stool face to face with the colonel. “ 'Well, sir!" said Allen. “ I am Lieutenant Cline, of the —th regiment of foot,” said the visitor, easily. “I am com- missioned by my su erior, Captain Haverly, to - demand your uncon itional surrender.” “Unconditional, did he say?" H Yes 7| “ Then go back to your superior and say that 5 Ethan Allen will sooner die in his tracks and with his harness on, than surrender the brave me un er his command without conditions.” ‘ Ah," said Cline. catching sight of Bernard. 3 “ As I live, there is my worthy young friend, Bernard Pearson. So you left our little circleto take part in this attempt, my worthzag?" . “Hardly,” said Bernard; “If I come in I time, this attempt would never have been made.” ‘ “ It will be a sad thing to convict a handsome young man like you of being a spy," said Cline “ but such I fear will be your fate when you fall into the hands of Prescott. As for the rest, I am not so certain; you are sure to hang.” “ You have your answer“ lieutenant,” cried Allen, angrily. “ Go back to your commander, or I will have you tied to a tree and givo you border law, forty stripes save one, if I am hang- ed or n t.” Cline withdrew, and the moment he entered, the bushes the fire recommenced with renewed vigor. The Canadian allies of Allen, never Very hot in the cause, melted away like snow before the rays of the sun, until Allen stood upon the bank, surrounded by the remnant of that val- iant band of heroes who had followed his for- tunes from their native mountains. Only thirty- eight in all were left, and these were not all unscathed, for, while seven lay desperately wounded upon the sod, at least half the others had slight cuts to show. Their desperate valor won the admiration of Haverly, and he sent a sergeant to Allen with terms which he could ac- cept, stating, however, that he would not iii~ clude the man known as Bernard Pearson in the arrangement. “ You see I was right, Bernard,” said Allen, “They would destroy you. Say to your com- mander that I will subscribe to the articles of surrender, hoping to be received in a manner worthy of my rank. I wish only fifteen min- utes to prepare to receive him and then he may advance.” The sergeant withdrew, and Allen turned to Bernard, shaking him cordially by the hand. There was no time to spare, and simply waving his hand to the men in a mute farewell, Bernard plunged into the rushes which bordered the river~bank, and was lost to sight. When Haverly ' came to secure his prisoners, the first one he looked for was the missin man. .“Pearson; where is he?’ “I beg your pardon, sir. Here are all in- cluded in the terms of the surrender. By your own express terms, Bernard Pearson was ex- cluded, and he chose to take his chance of es- cape to the certainty of hangmg held out to him by Lieutenant Cline.” ‘ “ Scatter and search ” cried Haverly, furious at this intelligence. ‘A hundred guineas to the man who brings him to me, dead or alive.” A hundred of the Indians at once be'an the search, up and down the sedgy banks, coking in every crannv which could, by any chance, hold a man. Not a nook was assed over in the Search, and yet Pearson coud not be found. The canoes used by Allen still lay upon the bank, and even if one had been taken, it would have been impossible for a man to have crossed the stream Without being seen. Cursing his ill luck, Haverly secured the prizes already in his grasp, and ushered them, without further cere- mony, into the presence of the autocrat of Montreal, Prescott. _ CHAPTER XII. A BBUTE, AN ASSASSIN, A VICTIM. HISTORY has informed us how this small V i ! .. n.-.sm,.-.4.i. ._ i ‘1 The Specter Spyo . tyrant and petty despot treated the man who, at least, had the merit of bravery, although rash to the last degree. Proscott’s language was that of a Thames waterman, and his manners those of a Door. Ascertaining that this was the Allen who had captured Ticonderoga and its garrison, the fury of his small nature broke out afresh. Ho cursed him in no nu‘usurrd terms, and threatened him with the haltcr at Tyburn tree. When he had expended his rage in words, he ordered him to be bound, hand and foot, and carried on board the Gaspoc, a schooner-of-war, lying in front of the city Finding himself thus inhumanly treated, A len wrote a letter to the commanding encrul, requesting; the treat- ment due his rant. No answer was returned, and he was kept in irons, which were of the heaviest kind, and so fastened as to put him in continual pain. He was handcuffed and his ankles confined in shackles, fastened to a bar eight feet long. Thus confined, he was thrust like a dog into the hold of the schooner, having neither a. bed nor any other article of furniture, except a chest, upon which he was suffered tosit or lie upon his hack, the only positions allowed him by his irons. His companions, who surren- dered upon the same tenns as himself, “ere handcuffed in pairs and heavily munnrled. For some days nothing was heard of Bernard Pearson. Whether he had sunk in the St. Law- flence, or had passed the river in safety, no one new. Havel-1y, openly aided by Walter Cline, was persistently pushing his suit with Mona, and she was holding out bravely against them. Even the charge of filial ingratitnde could draw from her nothing but tears. All about them the signs of war grew more and mere imminent, for Chambly had fallen before the troops of Mont- gomery, and Carleton saw that he must risk a battle in the field, or give up the fight. Haverly was growing more and more desperate as he found himself powerless in the hands of Cline, and the latter, rendered more savage by his own danger from William Milhurn, whom he seemed to fear more than Havcrly feared him, pressed the young captain the more. “ You will drive me too far one day,” said Havery. “Wh do you not keep your Word with regard to ona? You promised to force her to become my wife.” . “ Do you think I will drag her to the priest with you?” said Cline. “ It must come to that before she will yield,” said the other. “These cursed Americans give us so much trouble now, that I have no time for anything. Do you remember the paper which was taken from you that night?” “ Curse you.‘it was our fault.” “ I know it was. hom would you most fear if that paper reached his hand?” 9 “William Milburn,” said the (ax-servant, with a shudder. ‘ 3‘ Then read this, which was sent me this morning.” Cline took the paper, and in his terror it. - seemed to rattle in his hand. It began ab- ruptly: ’ “ Sim— Be so good as to inform your friend, Wal- ter Cline, that the paper which was taken from him on the island of St. Helen's is now In my possession. He will know that this mo ans war." ' L Cline rose slowly, and threw the paper on the floor. Then, drawing the poisoned poniard a from his bosom, he removed the buckskin , sheath, and looked intently on the blade. It is decidet,” he muttered; “either William Mil- burn or Walter Cline must die, and it will not . .. be Walter Cline. I will see you again, at night, Wharton.” ‘- - Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned in- to the street in which William Milburn lived, ‘ 2 and knocked. The door was opened by Mat-‘ _:,Y thew, who did not seem in the least surprised by , the appearance of Cline, and led the way at.‘ ’s, once into the room where his_master sat. ' ” “ Plat-e a chair for the gentleman and retire, Matthew,” he said, coldly. ’ i, With a look like that of a mastiff who wishes I 2 to fly at the throat of his enemy, but is resA'auin—~ ,. -’ cd, Matthew complied, and retired. The two 7 ' sat looking at each other in silence, for some .1‘ moments, the fine face of lVIilhurn expressing a . cold determination, and that of Cline dogged ohstinacy. ‘ “ It will be necessary to go over some ground -' with you before we come to the point at issue and you will see how I will put the case when t i ‘ appeal to the laws of in country for real-955., Let us supposc a case. ere are two men of _ r' ; high rank in England, at least closely allied Loa, 7‘11 noble family, and themsclves first cousins. ‘ " These love the same woman, and one succeeds -/ in winning her. The other, a cold, dark man, i , waited patiently for his revenge, and suborneda woman who was nurse to the little daughter of his rival to fly with her. and hide from pursuit ‘ in some obscure part of France. There she lived for years, until the mother of the child sunk in- to the grave, when the remrrso of this woman awoke, and she would have told the father of. ” the child where she was to be found. Dying,~~ she wrote a. confession of her crime, and our . joined it upon the man, who had tempted her _ to sin, upon his solemn oath, that he would not‘ f lose the paper, and if about to die, would send ‘ it to the father of the child. Her shade should . haunt him it he forgot his vow. As time went , ‘ 3n this man was guilty of the crime of mur- ' er— - I. “Hush,” whispered the listener, with livid ' lips. “Are you mad?” I . “ Be silent! This man was guilty of a mur- _. der, and only one could have proven it against him, and that one was the cousin he had so, deeply wronged. He knew that the blow came , .y from his cousin, but he could not bring proof. . The murder on London Bridge, ’done in the heat. 5' of passion, it is true, gave him a hold upon him, 1,; an he sou ht to force from him the secret of the place w ere he had hidden the child. But the villain knew his danger, and fled. Since that time it has been one continued scene of . flight and pursuit, the father continuall haunt- ed by the doubt that he couldrprove iden- _. tity of his child, when it came to the test. All that was needed was the death-bed confession of this perfldious woman, who had stolen the ‘ child, and which he, at last, became possessed of, in a way which I need not name.” Anna \ M...4_...A._.-M .mw anwdw. . . A J ‘ g . . ,. \ . .. ; . ,‘ . ‘ K l ,wv 93, iI‘Ahe Specter Spy. “Are you the Specter Spy, who has followed me so long?” demanded Cline. “ Let that rest. The question, if I answered ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ could serve no purpose. It is enough that the paper has reached the man for whose hand it was intended, and that he new demands his child. But first, let me ask a uestion: Knowing that this paper would reveal a l I wished to know, why have you so long pre- served it, when by destroying it, you might have rendered it impossible for me to identify the child?” “ I will answer that, not because you have any claim to know, but because it is a libel on y 'ud ment to say that I did not know the resu t i you obtained it. I am superstitious, and I believe that the Specter Spy is the ghost of the man whose life I took on London Bridge, ten years ago. I believed that the dying woman ‘ would keep her word to me, and if I destroyed the pa r, would have haunted me night and day. oath! did I not have enough specters about my pillow without hers being added?” “I understand your motivenow, and 1 am glad it was strong enough topreserve this paper. will not 5 k, of your noble name, to which you mi ht ave added honor, if you chose, rather han infamy. I will not speak of the bri ht opportunity offered you for a great and use n1 life. That time is passed, andI have come to claim my revenge from the man who robbed _ me of my wife and child; for you killed the first when you hired that vile woman to steal my daughter. What do you answer to my just demand?” ’ " I answer this i” _. As he spoke, he sudden] drew the poisoned «dagger, and hurled himsef u n the speaker, whirling the weapon above his ead. As he did so, and when the fate of the man seemed sealed, a. pistol cracked, and the arm which held the 7 weapon fell pierced by a bullet. Rising quickly, \‘V . The: r r ' - » copy. after the first surprise, the assailed became the assailant. Grasping the wounded man by his unwo'unded wrist, the active man planted a blow between the eyes of Cline, which sent him reeling to the earth, and then he planted his foot upon his breast and draggpd the poisoned weapon from his hand. At t e same moment a I - door flew open, and Matthew, accompanied by Bernard, entered the room. , “ What shall we do with him?” said Bernard. '“ Look out for that dagger; it is poisoned I” “I thought so," sai Milburn. “ The man would beequal to any atrocious deed now Let him go his way, and leave us to work out our destiny as We may. Go out again, before he re- covers, Bernard.” “ " Bernard hurried out, justas the stu fled man rose to his feet, glaring about him, 1i 9 one in a dream. The next moment he broke into a bitter ‘ lal‘ifih, and looked down at his bleeding arm. might have known how little my power is when compared with yours, William,” he said. “Enough; 1 am conguered, and you shall have the chi] . You will nd that, though I took her from/ her mother’s arms, I have not neglected her. Mona is her mother over again—a faithful I loved her mother dearly, but scarcely more than I new love her child. The deepest ' agony I have sufl'ered through my long life is at this moment, when I know that she will be taught to hate me. I could endure anything better than that.” r “ Go, Walter. I feel my heart growing tender toward ou, the son of my mother’s favorite sister. eep Mona with you to-day, and at the morning's down I will come to claim my own.” Cline went out with bowed head and a doL moniac gleam in his dark eyes. Even then he was planning new villainy. As he went out at ’ the open door, he passed Matthew, who grinned broadly. “I will yet he even with ou, honest Mat- thew,” muttered Cline, “or haveapumpkin on gay shoulders instead of a head. Let us see. That day Carleton marched out to 've battle to the Americans, and was met by arren at Longueil. The sturdy valor of the Green Mountain Boys proved too much for the large but undisciplined force of Carleton, and he was driven back in confusion. Cline and Haverly returned to Montreal after an hour spent in consultation. At nightfall two masked men entered the house of the linen-draper, bound him and his somaan seized upon Mona, stopping her cries by gaggin her. Three horses were at the door, which too them quickly to the upper end of the island, where a canoe lay with the paddles. Here they removed the gag and took off their masks, showing the dark faces of Walter Cline and Wharton Haverly. “You wonder why we have done this,” said Cline. “ You know me better than to believe that I would do anything to make you unhappy, if it could be avoided. But events have so shaped themselves that you must be the wife of Wharton Haverly.” “ Did you not yourself warn me against him?” she aske with Spirit. “ True. But circumstances alter cases. I do not set Wharton Haverly up as a model for youn men to copy. On the contrary, I have seen ar better men than he is quite Often. But, for all that, I have said you shall marry him.” “I would die first. Father, I will tell the truth. Ilove another.” “I know it.” “Let me tell you how it was. I met him in Quebec four years ago, and he saved me when in horse became unmanageable, when I was ri ing upon the Plains of Abraham. He is handsome and brave. You yourself, if you could see him would say so, too. I love him dearly, and w' never marry any one else.” “ Bah! I have seen your Adonis, and cannot say I share your-rhapsodies. The oung man is well enough, if that were all, but t at is not the uestion. I do not wish you to marry him, and do wish you to marry Wharton Haverly. Into the cancel Who knows but the Specter I Spy is trailing me already? I expect nothing ton. Mona took her place in the canoe in the cen- ter Haverly in the bow, and Cline astern. Cline had brought a rifle with him, which was] mg in the boat in front of him. They ush of! 'into the stream and turned u war . rCline’s Elan was to go to a villa 6 up t 9 river about fteeu miles, and there ave the young couple l else.” Have your pistol ready for him, Whar- - ,,-- f :— ‘l‘he Specter Spy. married according to the usages of the Roman Catholic church, of which he was a member. They had not gone a mile when Cline paused and leaned upon his paddle. “I could almost swear I heard another pad- dle,” he said. “ Wait a moment.” CHAPTER XIII. THE VENGEANCE or FATE. HAVERLY ceased paddling and listened. Not a sound could they hear, save the monotonous swash of the river water upon the shore. “Bah,” said Cline. “I was mistaken. Who should follow us on such a night as this?” “The Specter Spy!” cried the same terrible voice they had learned to fear. “ Ha! ha! ha!” The sudden sound so terrified both men that it was with difficult they kept the canoe upright, and she drifted ownward. Then the wild in- stinct of flight became strong again, and they bent to their paddles, lashing the water into foam in their efforts to escape. A little to the right they could make out a small white object, hanging on their quarter, and steadily keeping them in view. The moon was now coming up, and Cline took up his rifle and aimed it at the white object which was following them. Just as he was about to fire it suddenly disap cared, and he remained with leveled rifle, coking vacantly into space. . “ Ha! ha! ha!” came the shrill laugh over the water. “ Labor as you may, the S cter Spy and Wizard Canoe is on your trae , and you cannot escape.” “It was not my plan,” grumbled Haverly, “ so don’t look so savagely in my direction, Mr. Cline. I won’t have it laid at my door.” . “We are two fools, to dream of outwittin our evil genius,” replied Cline, gloomily. “ begin to sus t the trickery there is in all this. We may fat om it yet. Paddle forward slowly and let me be on the watch.” Mona was frightened, but remembering that her lover had told her the Specter Spy meant no harm to her, she was content to wait. The canoe glided slowly through the water, under the easy strokes of Haverly’s paddle, while Cline, rifle in hand, waited for the strange ap- pearance. Suddenly a wild yell sounded in . front, and Haverly pointed with a finger flicker- ing with fear, to a white object ahead, which was crossing their bows at a rapid rate. As they gazed the water boiled and foamed about it as it had done on the night when they had chased the Wizard Canoe upon the river, and it was one. ' . “ 11, Captain Haverly,” cried Mona, “it is the same strange thing We saw upon the river. I dare not look at it a ain. It is too terrible.” “La aside our ri 0. Lieutenant Cline," said Haver y. “ eare wasting time. I think it was upon yonder point you told the men to meet us with the bateau.” ' , “Yes. But you can tell nothin about these Canadians. The may come and t ey may not. i .h K. . ,' If they disappoint us, we 'must cling to the heme. ’ ’l‘hey landed on the point, and the two men stepped out, leaving Mona sittin in the canoe. They climbed the bank and look about for the ' . ngtelau they expected to meet. It was not in r l .n . ’ 4 sight, and they were still looking anxiously toward the city, from which they expected it to ‘ come, when a rushing sound was heard, and the Wizard Canoe struck the beach close to their own boat. The click of springs sounded, and out of the strange craft, now grounded high and . dry upon the beach, bounded the upri ht figure of a man whom Mona recognized with a cry of joy. It was Bernard Pearson. With a single agile hound, he flung himself between the two men and the girl, a pistol in each hand, con- frontin them with livid eyes. “ Wa ter Clinton, for Clinton is your name, is this the way you keep your promise to our ~ cousin? Would you rob him of his child twee?” “Who are you?” screamed Cline. ‘ ‘ “ The {Specter Spy’!” cried Bernard. 1 p “ I might have known it,” cried the baffled ' man. “What do you seek here?” \ “ Justice for a man much wronged, and for this beautiful girl.” \ “ Fool, youhave rushed upon your own fate. At him, V harton! Cut down the vile cheat!” I - “Not so fast,” cried Bernard. “ I would\not have your blood upon my head, but if you move a step nearer, en die.” They were a cut to rush upon him, in spite of his threatening attitude, when he madeasudden s ring, and, pushing off the canoe in which 1V ona still sat, followed it with a bound. He was not a. moment too soon, for just then a' hairy hall seemed to glance from a tree-top over _ their heads and fell upon the two men who stood cursing on the shore. Bernard, facing the tree, had caught a glimpse of the fearful beast in time . to save Mona, but could do nothing for the others who were rolling over uglon the shingle, stained with their own blood, fig ting the most , terrible inhabitant of.the American woods, the x ‘ panther. It was a confused struggle on the ‘ dried leaves, man and beast seemingly entangled ‘r in one inextricable mass under the moon‘s ray. Bernard raised his hand to his mouth and gavs a clear whistle, and then, tightening his belt, pre- pared to go back to the shore, taking Cline’s rifle which still lay in the boat. ' " “ hat are you oing to do?” said Mona, -, faintly. “ You will :e hurt.” ' “ I will save one if I can. Whoever the beast struck first is past redemption. Take the pad- , die and keep the canoe about so far frOm the ‘ , shore.” , .~ Springing into the water, which rose to his waist, and holding the rifle high above‘his head - ‘ to keep ihe priming dry, Bernard reached the shore. Just as he sot his foot- u on the shingle, the panther reared himself upon is hind-legals a cat sometimes does when pouncin on an ob- 'ect, and Bernard took the opportuni ofl’ered. he rifle cracked, and Bernard sprung hack—' ward into the water, while the panther alighted upon the very spot where he had stood, quiver- ing in the agonies of death. Satisfied that his race was ended, the young man stepped back, and taking the canoe by the bow, drew it to the , shore. The panther was dead, for the bullet had passed through his brain. ' .1 , ; “ Keep back, Mona,” cried Bernard. “ Let me go firs .” ' ,I/ ~ ' It was a hideous sight which the moonlightre— vealed upon that mossy bank. Haverly had . The Specter Spy. ‘been the first one struck, and was killed in the first onset. His head was mangled in a fearful manner and his neck was broken. But Clinton ~—Cline no more—was such a ghastly sight to look upon that Bernard called aloud to Mona to lgeep back, and sprung down the bank to stop er. “ Do not come,” he asped. “One of them is dead, the other past ope, and you must not see them. x Thank God, here are the others.” The rapid beat of hoofs could be heard and they were surrounded b aband of Green oun- tain Boys, under Seth arner. Milburn rode by the side of the Vermonter, attended by Mat- , thew, and leaping from his saddle, clasped Mona to his heart, “ At last, after long years, I claim you. Child of my angel wife, long since a saint in the ki§§doml Welcome to this stricken breast.”7 hile she sobbed upon his bosom the others were trying to stanch the wounds of Clinton. It was vain. He had strength enough to ask for Milburn, and he came. “ You have done for me, William Howe,” said the dying man. “ The first sin of my life has found me out, at last.“ I am. dying and be fore I o I have something to say. Is Wharton Haver y dead?” “ I am sorry to sa that he is.” “ Even that is 0 little moment here. Tell I Mona from me to give you the small silver box I placed in her keeping. In it she will find the mper which gives me my power over Wharton verly. In a. moment of frenzy, while badly in debt, be forged an order upon a prominent «- merchant in uebec. This paper fell into my g hands and I have used it against him, making him my purse and catspaw. I stifle; give me a little air.”- , ‘ “Can nothing he done to save him?” said > - William Howe, Milburn no longer. . .~,same stock as {4 himlin the attempt to extort from Walter Clin- “ Would you save me? It is better as it is, for if I lived I should be your enemy still. Let me make a request. When 1 am dead give me a grave beneath these trees, beside the flowing V river. Let none know that, underneath the grass-grown and flowering sod, rests a scion of the house of Clinton. Good-by to all, for my 3 work is done forever.” The bent to raise him a moment after, but [he he ceased to breathe. The last request of j , the dying man was attended to, and an Indian of the St. Regis took the body of Wharton Hav— ~erly into Montreal and told the manner of his ~death. A few Words will explain the m sterious con— ] {duct of Bernard Livingston, the“ Specter Spy.” * He was an En lishman descended from the illiam howe, and had joined ton the truth in regard to Mona’s parentage. Knowing his superstitious nature, he had as- sumed the role of the Specter Spy, and being a capital ventriloquist, he had been able to mys- tify 's pursuers in many instances. Moreover, his movements were aided by the strange craft, known as the “ Wizard Canoe,” which was nothing more nor less than a submarine boat, ingeniously contrived by himself. The propell- ing power was a screw worked by a crank, by means of which he could drive the boat re idly, and by shifting weights in each end coul even go below the surface for a moment, and when rising again, show so small a rtion of the boat above the water that it won (1 not be read- ily observed. Bernard had constructed this craft of cedar wood at Quebec. assisted by a. most ingenious half-breed. By their combined exertions, and numerous experiments, it was so perfected as to answer well its pur ese of canoe and submarine chamber. In it e had made the voyage from Quebec, aided by a small tni- angular sail which he could hoist or take in at plrmure. The mystery of the Wizard Canoe was at an en . “She has done her work, and no other shall lay a desecrating hand upon her,” said Bernard. “ If I could take the boat witn me I would do it, but as that is impossible I will sink her in the stream.” He towed his old companion behind Clinton’s canoe out into the deep water, and, cutting a hole in the side with his knife, saw it disap- ear. " p. Mona returned to the city with her father, and found the box which held the secret /of Wharton Haverly’s crime, and burned it to ashes. “Let his sins perish with him in the grave,” she said. He can do no more evil.” Before many days Montreal had fallen before the arms of the intrepid Montgomery; and Wil- liam Howe, with his daughter, left it to return no more. Securing a lovely estate near Ben- nington in Vermont, he determined to pass the remainder of his days inpeace. Bernard Liv- ingston followed the fortunes of Montgomery and Arnold until the unfortunate endin of the ex edition to Quebec, and then came ck to up old the flagof his chosen country upon other fields. He fought u on the bloody field of Ben— nington in “'arners regiment, risin for al— laut conduct to the rank of major. fter t at battle Mona Howe gave him her hand in mar- riage, and then sent him out to do yeoman ser- vice for the flag. But neither of them, in the long and happy years while God gave them together, forgot the unfortunate man who died u>on the point above Montreal. And Mona Livingston, happy wife and mother, when they spoke of that sad time in the pleasant summer evenings, used to any: “If he sinned, he has made atonement. Cruel as he was to others, he loved me well. Let him rest in peace.” ‘ THE END 32 Octave Pagan. D 913.3, .A/ l Deerhllnter. the wy Scout of tho Great North Wumls. liy 011 Canines. 2 Bull'qu lllll, from Boyhood to Mnnhoml. By Col. Pron- timl ingrnlnnn. 3 K“ Carolin, King oiGuidel. By Alhert W. Aiken. 4 Gordon Lilllo, tin: Buy-interprntor of the l'nwnuen. By Muinr. n. n. madam. 5 Bulk! Admin-1,0” (lriuly‘l Boy Pnnl. Prentiss lnurulnun. 6 Deruiwooll Dirk nu alloy. 7 Wild lllll, tho Pistol l‘rince. Ingrnhnxn. 8 The l’rulrle Rum-h. By Joseph E. Bmlgl-r, Jr. 0 Roving Joe: The History of: “ Bord-er Buy.” ll. Post. Texan Jack. the Mingling King. By Colonal Prentis- lnurulunn. Clmrlo)’ Skylark. A Slurry of Srhool-rlny Scrnpel and (fillings Cupurl. liy l\injnr ll. ii. Simidnnl. Murlpmm Mnrnh. By .lmu-pll E. lsrulgur, Jr. 18 Roving- Ileu. ily Jnhn J. Mnrnhull. 14 fiprlug liteel, King of llm iimli. liy J. E. Badger, Jr. 15 W‘hlfi-‘ltwnke George, the Buy l’ioneur. By Edward l! & 14980 By Colonel Hy Enlwnnl L. Win-slur. By Culunel l’rontilu By A. 10 ll 12 16 The Boy “’lmnrd. llv llnrry Rinmolli. 17 Peter l’e‘ypergruna, the Gruenlmrn l'romGuihiun. By Nlmh Nut . 18 Allrli’t on the l’rnlrlo. Ami Amutcnr Hunter! on the lluil'nln Kongo. By Ull Cumnea. 19 The Fortune liuuu-r: ur, Roving .1110 u Miner, Cowboy, 'l‘rnnlrur uml linnln-r. liy A. ll. Past. 30 Trnpper Tom, tlw Worn! imp. By T. C. liarbnugh. 21 Yellow llnir. the Boy Chin-[cf inn Pawnee; By Col. I’l‘eilllnn lngrnhnln. $2 The Snow Troll. By T. C. Hnrbonzh. 88 0M Grizzly Adumn, the Bear Tamar. Powell. 24 Woolly: und \l’uterl. 25 A Rolling: Stone: By Dr. Frank By Capt. Fredel’ll‘k Wlilunkor. lnriuunla in the Cursor nn Sun Ind Lnlnl «ll (‘01. l'n-nlw lngrnlnnu. liy Wm. R. Eyatcr. 86 Roll lllvvr llovern. lly (7. Dunning Clark. 97 l'luzn uml l’luln: nr. Wlhl Atlwntllrol ol“lluchakin Sum.” (Maj. Sum. 5. Hull.) iiy Col. l’. lngrnhuln. 23 The Sword Prince. 'I In: Rnnmntlc Life of Col. Mon- alcry. liy (inpt. li‘rollurlck Whittaker. 29 Snow-“hoe Tom. liy ’l‘. C. ilnvhnngh. 80 Paul (lo hwy, tilu Frauch Burst Chnrmor. ‘By C. Dunning (ilnrk. ‘ 81 Round the (lump Fire. By Juanph E. lladgor, Jr. 82 “'hlte Ilenver, the imlian Muniluiua Chief. By Cu]. l'reulinl lngrulmlu. 83 The Boy Orumnlcr. iiy Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 84. The (‘huue oi’ the Great “'hltl- Sung. and, Camp nlul Culloe. By C. Dunning Clnrk. 86 (Illl ’l‘ur Knuckle Anni ill: Huy l‘hnnu. By R. Sturlmck. 86 The I’m-hing: Drummnr nr. Th- Swry olGon. Gouge A. Cuslur. liy Cunt. Frail. Whlilnker. Bf NixlIt-lluwk George. lly Col. Prenliao ingrnlum. 88 The Boy Exile! oi'l‘lberln. Hy T. C. llnrimngh. 89 The Young Beur lluntern. liy Morril Red-wing. 4o sinarl nun, tho Lad with . Laval iland. By Edward Willa“. 41 The Sl'tiler'o lion. By Edvunl S. Ellia. 43 Walt Ferguoon’o Oluloe. By C. Dunning Clark. 48 Rifle and Revolver. By Capt. I-‘ud. whittahr. 44 The Loni. Roy Whalers. HV '1‘. C. Harbaugh. 45 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Cohlngrahun. it! Dick, the Mownwuy. By Charla- Morrlo. 47 The Colorndo Boya; or. Lil‘o on an Indigo Plontotion. liy .lmu-ph E. “mirror, Jr. is The l’umnu- "union; or, Now York Boy in lluumm Ayrru. ilv T. C. llnrlrough. 4‘.) Thr- Advcnturoun Life of Nebrnokofihorlie. lly (inl. l’mntm ingrnlunu. 50 Jul-h. llurry und ’l‘om, tins Thru Champion Brothora. Iiy (Yum. Frod. VVhitinher. 5] The Young Luml-Lubher. By C. Dunning Clark. 52 Tile Boy lbetcotlveo. By 'I'. C. ilnrbau‘h. 58 "om-at llurr '1 or. Tho Country Boy Adrift in tho L‘ily. iiy (,‘hnr ea Morria. 54 Culli'oruln Joe, the Mylterloua Plain-man. l‘ruuliua lngrnhnm. 55 Tip Trenuel. tho Floater. By Edward Willott. no The finow llnntern; or, Wintor in tho Wooda. By liurry du Forrest. 5? Harry Some”, the Sailor Boy Magician. Pearce. 58 The Adventuroua Life of Ca tail: Jack, tho Bonlur lluy. By Cul. Prontiol lngrn uni. 59 Lillmo‘ Tim, the Mule Boy 0! tho Minoo. By Chorlu “THE. 60 The Young Trull Hunter-o; or, New York Boy- in Grllzly Lnnd. 153' 'l‘. C. ilnrlnanxh. 61 The Tiger Hunter-n? or, Thu Colorado Boya in Elo- phnnt Land. 15' Josepl E. "mixer, Jr. 62 Donor Cnrver. thu “ Evil Spirit " of tho Plainl. Cu]. l'mntiul ingvnhmn. 08 Elm-k llorne lllll, tho Bandil Wrockor. Sturhurk. 64 Young Dick Talbot; or, A Boyo Rough ond Tumhlo Fight from New York to California. By A. W. Aikon. 65 The Boy Pilot; or, The Island Wrockor. By Col. l'rontlmi lnuruholn. 66 ’l‘hollenert Rover or Siowowa Di 1 Aruba. My Charles orri’o. y I “mm a. 6? Tequ Charlie, tho lioy Rang". lug-“hum. By Col. By B. W. B: By Rogor By Col. Pronu- 68 Lilile llllle: or, The Young Fur Huntora. By Govt-in “ lirnin " lulnnm. 69 Tin-Your: Nllllllni o A! | no A Riillillill. ll‘iy Churlea Alorla. I“ n y MOI. th. 70 Pour the Cowboy: or, The Yarn; Marohail’o Raid. 1 liy ling... n. 15.5w lord, Er-Scau . fl I‘X" Rob-t Hi. and “in Bear. By Contain “ Bruin " Illllil. 72 The Ice Elephant. By Capt. Frodoricl Whittakor. 78 The Youm: MouNe-Ilunterl. By William H. Manning. 74 The Boy‘ Corul-l-‘lohero. By Rag" Shrlmoh. 75 Revolver Billy, tho Boy Bangor o! Toxu. ByCol. i‘runiils lnzr’ahiun. ‘ 76 The (‘ondor Killera. By'a‘. C. Horhau‘h. 7? Lud Llonheelo, the You" Tlxol Fight". ByBo‘or Sturbuch. 78 Flnlrboot Fred. '?9 Boone, tho Humor. By Edward win-m lly Capioin F. whim. Bendlo’l lloy’o ler-ry in for solo by all Nowldoolon, fivo unia par copy, or aont by mail on rouipi oflll “III ooch. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publiahou. 98 William Strut. New York 16. _ «90 ED E VERY SAT0 80 Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of tin: Cusnndul. lly Roger Starbuck. 81 The Kit Canon (liui). liy ’I‘. C. Hurhnugh. 82 Little Buck. tho Boy Guide. By Barry Kimmy/"l. 33 Pony Bob the Rankings Riill'l‘ oi the liorzkins. liy Cul. Prentins in mhmn. ' 84 Captain 1‘ iy-by-Nizht. By .lonwph E. lludger, Jr. 85 a}. uin Rulpimne Young Explorer. nyc. Dunning , ur . 36 Little Dun Roekn. By Morris Rndwing. 7 The Menu erie Hunters. By :\i»'. ii. Grenvillu. 88 The Boy ramps] or, Life Among tlxe Glpslus. uy J. M. Hoffman. 89 'Lonxnhnre Llje. By (K D. Clark. 90 Roving Riflc.( mum's Littl out. By T. C. liarhnuzh. 91 "ream: Josh, the Wizurd ii . By ngor Sturhurk. 92 iiurriuune Kit. lty A. F. lolt. 93 Jumping Jake, tho Culormln szns Buy. By liryunt lintunrnlgu. ‘94 San Spence, Iho liromihnru iloy. By Ell. Willoit. 95 Mo row to Sihcrln; or, A Yunkcu lloy to the Rescue. “V “ urles Morris. 96 Flgllti 2 Fred; or, The Cnstztwuyn of Grizzly (‘mnlu By’l' . l‘im'lmugli. - ot‘tilt Flyuwny; orY Yunhue Boys in (‘m-lnu. L, Dunning (‘1.irk. ‘ I y Vigilante“ M, King Cole: unri His Buml. By 2 H. u.smu....1. 99 The \i hits: Tigers; or, Si] Rifle, tlm Hirl Trucker oi'Luhe Superior. Bv Cunt. i, or; llowur. . 100 The Snow-Elmo ’i‘rnllz or, lhu Fonst Desperndoos. B ' St. lit-oruu linthhnnv. 101 )I’nriunn, tlw ()ttmvu Girl; m', The Myslurluus Camw. HV Edward S. Ellis. I 102 The Fiynwnv Afloat: or, i’unliee Bo): 'Rouu-l the World. Br 0. l‘tunuiug mm. 103 Pat Muiinncy‘n Adventun-n; or, Silver Tongue the Dumtuii Queen. ' 1.1.. lilriwurnls. 104 The Buy l’roupcut r; or. This Sui-rut of the Slurrn Ravine. By Roger Sturhuv-k. 105 Minimum. the Wood Witch; or, Tho Sqnatter’u Sel'rct. Eilwin Elliersnn. 0 “av (induct-M or, Jon and an‘n Big Find. iiv Edward Willett. ’ 107 The Border Rover-I; m',ImsFon thn Overland 'i‘ruil. By J. Milton Huffman. 108 Aifllkn. the \anfiQuL-en; ’vrr, The flirty Brotlmrs’ Double (lrilm. liv (Tupt. limvnrri him-“in. . 109 Chgli‘ilitiun Jim, the White'Man‘n Fl‘lunil. By Ellu’lll'd S. I 110 Piuoky Joe, th« Roy Avenger; or, Dick Bulnmut‘. Lust Ride. By .i. Viiltnn Hofl‘xuuu. 11! The Border filmmaker; or, The ilunlml )fuidull. By Junie: L. linwnu. 119 Left-flamed Pete, the Double-Knife. By Joseph E. Bugger, .ir. lver “men; or, The Faworule Fluthout. ny Capt. J. i". (7. Animus. 114 Alone on tile Pinlnl. ii - Ethnl‘ll WilMt. .115 Sslillver llorn, and His Ru. Flrodculh. By Rognr li’ Iii". - ‘ 116 Exgioitn of Hezekiah Smith, the Blmliwoodsmmr. Hy :lnerunll Rodi-mu. 117 The Young Mufltnmzcrp; or, Divk Merry’s Rm”;- nrs. By C. Dunning (flurlr. 118 "id'Tr-u I: :r, tin: Buy Rivula. By Barry Rluygolll. 119 Center r hot. the VVhItu Prim; or, Roving liille'n ' First. Campaign. By T. (‘. iiurlmuulv. 120 A “at Truth or, Clark Clnwrly Among the Turturt. ' By “hurlrn Morris. 1911 Iruntcr Purd Ben; or, T1... Wulmsh‘s liliml 1......i. Bv R010? Sturhuck. 122 The Eiquhnmlx’ Queen: M. The Mystery 0f the imne lint. By G. Wultln iirowno. 123 Tim, the Boy Acrubnt; or, Lill- iu the l‘firrns Ring. 12y ' ('I-urloa Morris. 194 0 en Rennie. tho Bnrderfiirl. BylienryJ.Thonmr. 135 To Tnbnr, the iiny Fugitive; onThu Young Lynch- ’ (inn “Wnlvel.” By liurrlenggolll. 126 “in (font, tho [heath-Shot; or, The Sprint: 0! the Tiger. [iy Jul. E. Badger. Jr. 19'? The Deer Hunters. lingolin J. Marshall. 198 \Voif-Ou ; or The Night-Iiuwku of the ii‘ire‘luuida. v By Capt. an. award. Price, Five Centl. 129 fluvgrflpur; m, The Mountnin Heroine. By Edward “'llli-It. 1:0 K013114011. qu on or the l’ln'ns. lly Perry ii. St. John. “H \"ihhlh. ller i'llllll Spy, ii) (ii-n LN tilt-um". 182 The, Imltuul 'l'ruppor; or,'i'ln- Young \‘i‘hitu-llutl'ulo lluntvh‘. m- ('lmrlrs mum. 33 Tim Forum hpot‘tt‘l‘; m', 'I'liu Young Hunter’s Foe. liy wuwl Willcit. 134 “'illl Nut. ilvu 'l‘rmln-r. liy Wm. R. Eyster. The Si] you Bugle; or, The linlinn Mnidun of Si. i‘lr '. liy Limit. l'o‘. lluzvllull. 'l‘ilc i‘l'nirlv 'l'ruplwr. By C. Dunning Clurk. 'I‘lxc Anti-[upt- liny. iiy lit 1. Ai rm. Long: Mint; or, ’l‘ho ltwm-I‘Hui. ('upl. Com-tack. (‘oluucl {‘rookctl, the iiunr King. By ('llurles E. Lu)! lllr. 014i Punt, tho Mountuiimer. By Lewis Vi'. Carson. The (Hunt Hunter. li)‘ Hurry iiuzurd. Bhva l’nntller, the ilnlf—lllood. By Juuph E. unaut‘r, Jr. (‘urmmg the Guide; or, i’crils uftlua Frontier. ByLieut .1. u. liiillllhlltll. Kent, u..- Hunger. By rzuwuru s. nun. Bill Rnbhinp, lluutor. By Ed vnvd Willctt. 'i‘lué Half-[hood lilunl; or. Tin: 'i‘ungled Trail. 13;, J... u. imam, Jr. 147 The Mill-died Avenger. i’-y "nl. l’mntlflllnurulmm. 148 Nut. the Trfllilit‘l’ unvl llnlinn Fighter. By Paul J. i’u-um-n. [~19 Tile l‘lik Demon; nr,'i"lie lliunt Brothers. (7. liurlvuuxh. 150 The iiny .‘iuulunx-llunier; nr. Euulnlie, the liouutil'ul Anmmn. lSy Frederick Whittaker. 151 Frnnk Yuk-I, the Young Trapper; hr, Mountain Kutu’s Warning. 15y Junoph E. lluvluer, Jr. 152 “'lld Raven, the Scout. By (Ill Canines. 153 Lynx-Pup; or, Four Tmppurs'Amonz the Sioux. By Pulll Bihhs. 154 The Chnmpion Texan Rider; nailed Bufl'nlo, annl tlu- Hi-rculos Hunter. By Hurry St. Genrge. 155 Dusky Dick's Doom. By Jon. It. Bridger, Jr. 156 Frnnk “oil, the lloy Spy. By 0“ Cnvnn-a. 157 Nick Doyle. the Gulvi Hunlvr. By P. H. Myra. 15$ Kitinnppul Die '; or, The Futu of the Fire Fly. By J. Sinuloy llunrlovsnn. 159 Hum's Long Trnli: or, Tho Twin Scnutr. By W. J. H uullmu. 160 "uni. Triplet}: Vow. By liurryiiuzukt. liil Ttn- 31ml Skipper. lly R. St uhuck. 162 Tim Trapper King. 153' : .\lux M rtlm'. ltiB Simon Kenton. llrmtor. Hy Euu-unu Rudunn. 16.} Inc “"3- Glue“ or, Frunk Dell’s Cumpuct. By 011 mm. I45 146 By T. 165 The Truth-r 'l‘rnitor. li)‘ J. smut-y livmloraon. it"; old Jupo'n (‘lt-w. lly Mr». Orrin .lumos iii? The Yo 1: Trailer.’ By W. J. Hamilton. .lunr ‘15. 14: 'i‘ u- Hmn-lcr Sp). ily 31:”. Luwi- W. Cnrnnn. ’ti mly .Iul_\ ‘ ‘l 69 Lani." Au-hm’. trig. July it. 170 The “’hilc Wolf. July in. R: *Ad y 1-, lhu‘ltld Culurndh ‘Hunter. By E. W. By Edward Willrtt. erly 171 The Swnmp Guide. By W. N. McNeil. Ready July 93. ‘ Rentllc’u Boy’n Librnry is fnr sale hy ull lendenlen, five cents per L'npy, or aunt by mail on rucuipt of nix cent: “ch. BEADLE AND ADAMS, l’ubiiulern. \ 98 “'lliium Street, Row York.