Copyrighted, 1881, by BIADLI ND ADAMS. En ed M the Post 011563 at. New Yor , . ..

 

Vol. XIII. 3%.? “my: 933:5;{32393215 §§;‘d‘m" m‘é’lfsau. No. 167.

 

 

 

 

-_. “mm lumen,” wmsmmm EDWARD. “r0011 0mm wan an! an an mum am!"

 

 

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r}; '

 

 
 

  s
'  touched the water lightly from time to time, and
' that only to keep the canoe in the eddy in which

 , calls him, and g

. \

- spinning across the stream, and hide

', and vs a low whistle.
mat“

- - a le sprin , landed 11

‘ form, a model of forest strength.

\
2

‘ .

The Young Trailer.

 

The Young *grrailer;
THE BLACK LEAGUES PLOT;

A Tale of the Trading-Posts in 1760.

 

in W. J. HAMILTON,
AUTHOR or “snu’s LONG TRAIL,” ETO., are.

’ CHAPTER I.
4" THE LITTLE PROPHET.

’3 cfivon was floating slowly on the waters of
the Detroit River, under the shelter of the strip
of land now known as “Fighting Island,” con-
taining asingle occupant, a young man in the
dram of a ranger one of those wonderful men—
balf soldier, half hunter, and all scout—who have
done so much to make this country famous. The
canoe was of birchen bark, and constructed with
consummate skill, evidently by an Indian hand.
The young man wore a hunting-shirt of tanned

' \ buckskin, soft as beaver, and ornamented with

bullion fringe and gilt buttons. A broad black
belt was strapped about his waist, and in it hung
a. pair of pistols and a heavy knife. In the bow
of the canoe lay a ponderous rifle, such as the
frontiersmen used at that time. and a most dead—
ly weapon in practiced hands.
The man himself was young, as we have said,
with a heavy droo ing mustache, a face bronz-
. ed by sun an win , and a bold, determined eye,
and to all appearance a person not likely to
shrink at the near approach of danger. He did
not a pear to be in aste, nor to desire to leave
halter of the island, for the paddle just

the was drifting, while his keen eyes scanned the
shores from end to end, in expectation of some
one’s approach.

“I wish the Delaware would come,” he mur-
mured. “ He not the man to daily when duty
lit to get back to Detroi .” '
At this moment the cry of a catbird, repeated

V 1' .three times, sounded from the shore and the

n scout dropped the paddle into the water
yWollilhg tons force, sending the head of the
canoe w irling about until it lay nearly at right
an lee with the current.
culir arms to the effort, be sent the li ht craft
upon a
.v white strip of sand, under the overhanging bank,
where he drew the canoe up out of the water,
A moment after, a

head was cautiously protruded over the
bank above, and a pair of keen eyes looked down
upon him. '
“ Come down, Ketadln,” said the scout, impa-
tiently. "I have been waiting for you.”
Theman above parted the bushes, and with an
n the sand. He was a
young , ndian of t 9 Delaware nation, with
an open, ingenuous face and a straight, smewy
His dress was
‘of 11 ht 'calico,-belted at the waist to hold his
tom wk and knife, and in his hand’ he carried

- ,arifleshnflar to the one in thebow of the canoe.

.

   

Then bending his mus- .

 

 

The twogmen clasped hands and it was plain
that a real affection existed between them, the
alfection which sprin 3 up in the hearts of brave
men, who have share danger together.

“ Ketadin, my brother," said the white man,
“ my heart is very glad to meet you ' .”

"' And the Delaware is happy when he can
take his brother, the Trailer, by the hand," re«
plied the Indian. Both spoke in the language of
the Delawares, for the chief could not manage
the English language very well, and the Trailer
knew the lang e of every Indian tribe from
the Hudson to Michilimackinac.

“ My brother has been long upon the trail,"
said the Trailer looking at the dusty moccasins
of his red frien . “Has be anything to sing in
the ears of his white brother?”

“ He has not been asleep,” replied the Indian,
gravely, “for the Wyaudot and the Ottawa are
on the trail. and they do not love the Delaware”,

“ I reckon if any of them fell foul of you they

0t rubbed out," said the Trailer, with a low
augh. ” Have you taken scalps?”

“ Two,” was the sententious reply. “ An
Ottawa and Wyandot slept by a fire in the
forest, and one of them had a scalp in his belt
which had long hair,'soft as silk. It was taken
from the head of a woman. A Delaware who is
a man does not take the scalp from an but a
warrior killed in open battle. I soun ed my
war-cry and they rose and fought.”

“ And went under, I‘ll go bail.”

“ Their scalps are in my bosom,” replied the
Indian, quietly.

“ Were the rascals painted for war?”

H Yes. 1?

The young Scout looked troubled.

“ I don’t like this,” he said. “ The French are
not idle, and in _my opinion we shall have lively
times along this river if we are not ve care-
ful. \ The Indians are treacherous, and t ere is
no telling what moment they ma rise.”

“ Let the red-coats in the fort eep both eyes
0 en,” said the Indian, “ and let them beware of
t e great Pontiac, for he is a warrior who loves
his country, and would have it all for the In.-
dians.” .

“ Red Lightning is in the Indian country,”
said the Trailer, still in deep thought. “ I know
it, for a Wyandot told me so a ew days ago.
What is he doinglthere’l”

“The French ave not forgotten,” replied the
Indian. “ Listen. Seven suns ago I was on the
trail toward Michilimackinac and saw red we:-
riors comin from every road, all going toward .
one point. pan the road I passed the Little
Prophet of the Ottawas going the same way.”

“ ittle Prophet!”

u Ugh.»

Then, by Heaven, the danger is closer than
we thought. When the Little Prophet is sent
out to ather the tribes, we ma know that a
rising 5 near at hand. An yet Pontiac
preaches patience, and says that the tribes will
not lift the hatchet against us.”

At this moment a sound scarcely distinguish-
able above the orflnary sounds of the forest,
could be heard by the keen ears of the Indian,
and he lifted his and to enforce silence upon his
companion, who was already upon the alert. I
Both were toc Well trained in forest wiles not to‘ .

Ll

 

  



 

 

 

The Young Trailer. 3

 

notice the slightest deviation from the usual
sounds to heatheardthand yet the noise was goth-
ng more an e sna ping of a wig.
Ketadin turned, and with a single algae leap,
bounded up the bank, and a short, sharp strug-
gle, accompanied b shrill cries of rage, in a
smgularly weak an pip' voice, was audible
to the young man below. moment after the
gonng Indian came bounding back holdin in

is arms what appeared to be an ndian y,
but, as his face turned toward the Trailer, it was
that of a man of middle age, a shrunken, weazen-
faced man, whose hight did not exceed three
feet. Ketadin plumped the little imp down
upon the sand, and stood looking contemptuous-
1 upon him. while the manikin leaped to his

set, dancing up and down the sod in a fury, ut-
terin wild, eldritch screams of anger, and heat
ing 6 air with his clinched fists.

‘ Little Prophet, by Jove,” cried the Trailer.
“ Now, you little hop-o’my—thumb, tell me what
you are doin here.’

The dwar only answered by a malignant
glance, and continued to dance wildly up and

own the sand. The Trailer drew'a istol and
p0an it at his head, when he instant y doubled
up like a ball,- and fell upon the sand, without
movin amuscle. '

“W at was the little thief doing up there,
Delaware?” demanded the Trailer, turning to
the chief.

“ He lay with his ear close to the ground, list-
enian to our words.”

“ he cursed spy!” cried the Trailer. “Get
up, unless you want me to put a ball through
your shriveled carcass. Get up. I say.”

The dwarfpbeyed, and stood before the white
man With his arms folded u nhis breast, his
e es cast down, and an air 0 deep humiliation

a ut him.
“Now, k up,” said the Trailer, “ or I’ll

. drop Wu into my pocket and button it up on

you. hat were you doing 11 there?”
“ Sleep,”  the ridic ous specimen of
humanity in is shrill voice. “Sleep much.”-

“You lie, Little Pro het. Who ever knew
youtoslee uponatrail ”

“Very ; much tire” was the answer, de-
livered in execrable English. “ Walk much.”

“I reckon I’ll have to lick you, my sweet
youth. Come here to me.”

He ca ht the dwarf b the collar with both
hands, ted him from be ground, and shook
him until his teeth fairl rattled in his head,
while the little scoundrel ept uttering piercing
cries more of rage than fear. '

“iiipod blood, blood,” he himed. “I smell
blood m the air.”

“ You’ll smell blood in your hose in bout half
a second, you little thief. Come; w it were

.yo‘l‘l domg up there?"

Sleeg,” persisted the Little Prophet. “ Sleep
too inuc .”

“ Who sent you to follow the Delaware?”

“ Come myself; go to Detroit and see white
friend. Jus come, ’ replied Little Prophet, in
such evident sorrow that it was plain he spoke
the truth.

"2'" “mm” °' “1“ firm.” ’°“ awe
anyw are near an on use an
heels and pitch you into the river}7

 

. v ‘ ‘ ms

The hint was enough. The dwarf bounding up
the low bank, uickly disappeared in the depths ‘

ot the surroun ing woods.

“ That little rascal ought to be killed,” said
the Trailer, “but I can’t find it in in heart to
do it, because it looks so much like unting a
child.”

“Little Prophet very bad man,” said the
Delaware. “ ught to take his scalp. ”

“Let him go; he can’t do us any harm. Push
out the canoe.”

They took their places, and under their united

strokes the canoe ggided upward swiftly, be- -
n ‘\

tween the low gree anks.
CHAPTER II.
DETROIT—ROSE ST. AUBIN. _
THIS frontier settlement, about which the
events here set down occurred, was founded in

 

1701 by a Frenchman, Le Motte Cardillac by

name. From its first inception, it seemed fitted

by natural advantages to become a place of '

note, and in a few years aflourishing settlement
of twenty—five hundred souls run 11 about
the fort which Cardillac bad bin t. he each

are an improvident people, but lovers of beauty, \

and their neat houses were surrounded by thriv-
ing orchards and inclosed by white palings.
The fort, or more properly fortified portion of
the town, stood upon the western bank of the
river, upon the side of the present city of
Detroit. It consisted of about one hundred
houses, built closely together, and surrounded
by a palisade.

Theirs was a happy, careless life at Detroit. . ,
improvident Canadians were, »

The habituall
made more so y the ease with which they sub-
sisted. The forest was full of awe of every
sort the river swarmed with fls . mfiriads of
wild fowl occupied the marshy land. ven the
long winters were a source of social en 'oyment,
for then the vo ageur, hunter and t er came
to Detroit, an passed the days in dancing,
carousal and me meetings.

The French had always lived in peace with _'

the Indians, although parts of three different

tribes were within the limits of the settlement.

On the western shore, a short distance south of

the fort, the Pottawatomies were ramped. 0n
the eastern side. nearly opfomte this tribe, the
W andots’ village was coated; while, five
mifes up the stream Pontiac and his Ottawas
hadtheir place of abode.
and the French, from the concilia policy of
the former, had never quarreled, an until the
advent of the English had never dreamedof
trouble. But Rodgers and his Rangers came
and the fort fell, and Pontiac. agreed to live
in peace with the English it they would
treat him with the respect _due a great
chief. But for some time an evil thou ht had
been ranklin in the bosom of the chief. saw
that. by a

,and hewas c trivinga plan to destroy

them. Yet this man stalked amgfi the whites, ,‘
ful

when he chose cloakin his dr
under the ma of In
knew well howrto assume.

Major Gladwyn commanded the force at this .. ‘ '
post. ‘Eehad aboutonohundredaudtwenty .-

I

 

These three tribes -

old stroke, the small force of the j
English could be out 0 at Detroit and its sister

stoicism, w ich he ,'

 

 

 

 
 
   
 
 
  
  
  
  
 

 of the Indians.

 

0’

 

 

 

’/

\

4 . The Young Trailer.

 

 

re , who had fought Indians before, and a

sti l more eflicient force in this kind of fighting,

a number of half-breeds and scouts, devoted- to

his service, and u to all the tricks and devices

mong the most trusted in this
band of scouts, and the most esteemed by the
major, was Edward Gresham, familiarly known
as the “Trailer,” from his scouting propensities,

, and who held a. sort of command over the force
of bordermen.

This explanation will suffice.

The Trailer and Ketadin reached the fort, and
the white man was at once closeted with the
major, to whom he made his report. This done,
he emerged from the fort, and went out into the
scattered portion of the settlement, while the
Delaware remained within the palisade.

Just on the outskirts of the settlement was a
neatly-built cottage, standing in the midst of a
thick growth of thriving fruit trees, and
bowered in by vines as only a Frenchman
knows how to grow them. A neat fence sur-
rounded the cotta e, and, swinging open the
gate, esham wal ed rapidly up the walk and
rapped t the door. A light step was heard in-
side. the latch was lifted, and a beautiful girl
stood upon the threshold. She was not tell,

K’ r rather of a etite figure, but beautifully formed,
‘ and gracefu as a fawn. Her hair was of a rich

golden brown, and gleamed like gold where the
sunlightfell u on it. Her mouth seemed made
for kisses, sm' ing, sweet. She was the fairest
flewer that bloomed in that frontier post, the
toast of all, from the major in command of the

' 5 post to the‘voyageur; Rose St. Aubin, poetically

med “ Bright Star” by the Indians.

“ Edward!” she cried, “ I am glad you have
corne.”

He made no audible answer, but drew her
close to him, and pressed his lips to hers. Do

" ,J not start, dear reader, they were betrothed, and
‘ :" every one said it was a love-match. But. half
» hidden by the vines which shaded the garden

walk, a. man crouched who saw the meeting,
and who gnawed his ii 3 until the blood started,
and twice laid his han upon a weapon, and as
often withdrew it. There was one at lea «1: who
-did not wish to see Rose St. Aubin married to
the bold scout. This man, crouching among the
leaves, saw the tender greeting, and, as the door
c osed upon them, rose from his half recumbent
ition, shaking his clinched fist at the house.
“ Go your ways, you two,” he muttered, “ but
,a. cloud hangs over this village which will one
day burst and overwhelm it. I say it, I, and
these lips never lie where vengeance is to be ap-
ed. Rose St. Aubin, fainbut false, a danger
ngs over you and your Wild lover which no
power can avert.” .
He drew back, and stealing softly away

“throughthe orchard, leaped the paling and

reached the river-side, where a canoe lay upon the
bank. Pushing it into the water, he took up the
paddle, and bending his strength to the work,

. ' shot rapidly u the stream toward the north.

St. ‘Au in, still holding her lover’s hand,

I' f ' -./led him into the little parlor, tastefully furnish—

 

   
 
  

/ 0d. and adorned with many little‘ articles of
’r Woman’s Workmnnship. which go so far to

bruitl a home likethis. The windows were
‘ crayfish mahogany  the honey-

1

    

’.

 

deuce is amazing, undought to meet its rewara”

 

suckle and grape-vines filled the room. They
sat down upon a low settle, covered with chintz,
and Gresham looked tenderly into the fair face
beaming with love for him.

“ My darling,” he said softly, “ how have you
been, in the weeks we have been artedl”

f‘ Well, Edward; as happy as can be wuen
you are away, and in danger."

“ The life of a borderman is fraught with
danger always,” replied the young man. “ I
must take my chances with the rest, of course.
Where is your father?”

“ He has gone to the Wyandot villageto trade
with the natives.”

“ Ah; when he comes back I must see him, as
I have something of importance to tell him.
Hal what is that?”

A sharp, whizzing sound was heard, and an
arrow passed between the air, and remained
quivering in the wall, within a foot of Gresh~
ain’s head. So closely had it passed, indeed,
that he felt the feather brush against his
hair, and he knew that some enemy had sought

his life. Springing to his feetti the young scout _

ran to the window, dashed asi e the interposing
vines, which alone had saved his life, and the

next moment was in the garden, a pistol in his

hand, looking fiercely about him for an enemy.
Rose called to him to return but, unheeding her
voice. he darted into the orchard, and searched
everywhere for the Indian he believed to lie
concealed there. He searched in vain, for, al-
though he explored every nook and cranny, no
one could be found, and with a moody and
lowering brow, he returned to the house.

“ What is it?” whispered Rose. “ Whose life
do they seek, yours or mine?”

“Mine,” replied the Trailer, “ but I ,will be
too much for them in the end.”

“ Whom do you suspect?”
_ “I am not loved too much by the ultra maxi
1n Either of the tribes, for I know them too
we .

“ Have you’ given any of them particular
cause to hate cu?”

“ Yes; the ittle Prophet of the Ottawas. By
heaven, it can be no other.”

“Look here,” cried Rose, pulling the arrow
from the wall. “ What is this paper?”

Wrapped about the shaft of the arrow was a.
narrow strip of spot, which Rose took OE, and
read with dilate eyes.
“To EDWARD (1mm, knmmas ‘ the Trailer.”—

“The knell of your doom is tolling. If you would
save your life. put as many miles as you can be-
tween yourself and Detroit, this very day. Every
hour you pass here is another nail in your coffin.
Heed the warning from the Great Brothgrhood. ’

‘ . or V.’

. “This is” melodr atic,” said Gresham, laugh-
ing. “ Give ms t at paper, Rose, as it may
serve at some time to identify this man, who
§ag Ithen look out for me. Leave Detroit?

0 .

“ Yet this warning is given in earnest, Ed- V

ward ” said Rose.

“ ould you have me leave you and run away r

like a coward, because I have received ananonY-
mous letter? Bah, I am not so easily disposed
of, as this fellow shall find, if he ever has occa-

sion to measure strength with me. His impu-

K .

 

    

Aw-VZ-‘x 1.

 

I,” a  VYou’ng Ills-allot} ‘

 

 

“II fear you are in great danger, Edward,”
‘ replied the girl.

“ Not more than I must expect. I have made
myself enemies, it is true, but chiefly for the
reason that I am faithful to the interests of my
own countrymen. We are of different nations,
and I do not like to speak of it, but there are
bad men among your people who would take
delight in stirring up the Indians to deeds of
blood and strife. Pontiac, the head and front
of the Indian tribes, a man of more ability than
many a leader on our side, is working in the
dark for one great object, the destruction of
the advanced English post. But he shall fail, if
I have a brain or an arm.”

At this moment came a rap at the door, and
Rose went out, leaving the parlor door wide
open. As the front door swung back, Gresham
saw a man standing outside whom he knew at
once—Pontiac, the terrible chief of the Ottawus
—a man of herculean build, with a haughty air
which might have become a king. is long
black hair, uncut. swept down upon his shoul—
ders, and his cold, clear-cut determined face he-
spoke the man of nerve and power. He wore a
gaudin trimmed hunting-shirt of white buck-
skin, covered with wampum ornaments, and
from his neck, suspended from a golden chain,
hung a great medal presented to him by the
French king. A blanket, lined with red cloth,
hung in graceful folds from his shoulders, and
about his waist was wrapped the broad wam-
pum-belt denotin the great chief of the Con-
federate tribes. e wore a. feat-her head-dress,
with drooping heron plumes,which waved in the
summer breeze. His lower limbs were clothed
in leggings, and upon his moccasins were work-
ed the totem of his tribe.

“ The Bright Star knows the face of a great
chief,” said the Indian, in a mellow, persuasive

voice speaking the French language with ease
and fluency. ‘Is he welcome to the lodge of
her father?”

“He is welcome,” said Rose, extending her
hand to the chief. “ Enter.”

Pontiac followed her with a, state] tread,

, and although evidently disconcerted at he pres-
ence of the Trailer, he made no outward sign of
disappointment, but seated himself in the place

. pointed out by the girl.

“ Where is St. ubin, the good trader, the
man who is loved by the lndmns?” demanded
the chief.

“ He is at the Wyandct village.”

“ It is well; Pontiac would have been glad to

~ take him by the hand,” said the chief. ‘ When
he returns, let the Bright Star shine upon his
heart and make it warm. Say to him that Pon-
tiac, chief of the Ottawas, and sechem of the
tribes, Would see him at his village. Sing in his

I ears that the lodge of Pontiac is always 0 n to
'ust men. and there is a warm place an food

or him there. ”

“ I will tell him.” .

Pontiac now turned to Gresham with ,a kind-
Hwig eye, and he now spoke in the Indian

e.
“%hite man,” he said. “ when you have come
mg: Ottawa lodges, have they treated you

“Yes,” replied Gresham, with a puzzled look.

 

 

 

“ Then why have you disgraced a man who is
loved among the Ottawas?” ‘
“ Whom do you mean?" . .
“Let not Grcshmn speak with a double ‘ 7:
tongue ” replied Pontiac, in a severe tone. “ The ‘ ‘5,
Little i'ophct has returned to the village, to. ‘ ‘
tell how he has been wronged by Gresham and w ;,
Kctndin.” ‘ ' f
“I have (innenomoro than on would have i,
done,” replied Gresham. “Wil Pontiac listen “ l '
to my words?" ‘ ‘ '
“ The cars of the chief are open.” . ‘ ~
“The Little Prophet came crawling like 8. _,
snake to listen to the words of myself and Kets- "3
din. We caught him, but no harm was done «’3:-
him by either of us.” ’ 1*?
“Did you not lay your hands upon him, the
man whose oflico is sacred among the Indian
tribes?” ’ 
“Of course I did, and I would do the same 
thing if he repeated his 8 ying. Look, chief of 7 ,
the Ottawas. If your tri were in council, and V
a spy crawled in to listen to your words,'what .95,
would you do?” :
“The Little One is a prophet," said Pontiac, .
doubtfully wishing to appear just. a 7,
‘ d not think of that, and beyond han-
dling him a little roughly, perhaps, no harm was ‘
done him, in the least.” '* V 2,
Pontiac rose as if to depart without adding »
another word, and Rose accompanied him to the ‘ ~
door. Then he stopped and spoke in a. low ,
to

i

  
 
  

  
   

ne. .
“Send the Trailer away. In an hour 1 will
return and tell you something, because I lovethe, .,
good trader.” ’ /
Rose made no answer, so surprised was the at -;
what he said, and before she had recovered ‘her- I 
self sufficiently to answer, the chief hadf. ~. -
opened the garden gate and was walking swift; . ‘
ly toward the fortress. There was somethi ‘
very suspicious to Edward in this visit, on
he cut his call short, promising to come back
in the evenin , if possib e; then he hurried down ~
to the fort, w ere he found Ketadin anxiously
awaiting him. ' _ '
‘i‘ Il-{Iiive you seen the Little Prepheti” he“ 
uic y. ’
q “He is here, with Pontiac, andithtaygve
gone to the lodge of the major,” replie ‘ tfis

dll].

“ Wh are they here?” ' *

“The; have come to sing in the ear of Glad-
wyn against us, because we put our hands upon;
the Little Prophet." r . ‘ r

“ I hope they may make something out ofzthe
major by complaining of me," said Edward. L;
“Come to my house, where we can talk without"
being spied upon.” _ I ’

Gresham had a small house within the fort.
and here he lived when in the settlement, with”
no other companion save a French vogageur,
whom he kept in the capaci of cook and gen
eral factotum. He was stan infiin thedoorwsy‘, '
when they came up, a shriveled ut jovial-lookhi‘fit’
i ng man of middle age, with all the suavity and
grace of his nation. .r . :1

“ Moesu Edward. I s’all greet you avec plaislr.
va‘tglou s'all please to ordaire for re dinner!”  ,

 

  
     
  
  

'ng Pierre' an hin. Iamnotpon-
summit you know hozffitogook.” .‘ "  ‘r'

. v

    
 

\' A slightest hesitation.

 

6 ' '1 The Young Tram

“Certainement; I t’ink I s'all set before one
ver’ fine venison saddle, but ze dam dog of ze
‘ n ’ave.carry it avay an’ it mange, by er.

I s’all exterminate ze dog from ze face o no
e’rt’.” "

“ Give us anything you haveJ as we are hungry
enou h to take anything.”

“ ere s’all be une small billet doux come for
Mossu Edward.”

“ A letter? Let me have it.”

Pierre led the way into the house, and with
many bows and flourishes gesented a letter,
with the name of Edward resham upon the
back. He tore it open hastily, and found it the
exact counterpart of the one he had found upon
the arrow.

“ This grows interesting,” he muttered. “ Some
one is taking an unusual interest in my welfare,
it would seem, and it behooves me toflnd out
who the person is. Who left this letter,
Pierre?”

“ Von small Indian boy; ver’ small.”

“ What tribe 3”

“Mossu, I s’all not be able to tell you. He

.coom quickly, drop zeletter, and go avay. I
attend to my soup, and not notice him mooch.”

“ I wish on had looked at him more closely.
If another otter comes, be sure that you can de-
scribe the rson.”

“ He s’a tell you in ze letter.”

“Um b; not exactly. You can go, Pierre."

The enchman bowed himself out with many
1genuflections and grimaces. Edward took out

he arrow which had carried the first letter.

“What tribe is this from, Ketadin,” he said.
“ You understand arrows better than I do.”

“ Ottawa I” replied the Delaware, without the

CHAPTER III.
THE oeraw’s wooma.

NIGHT came down upon the slee ing fort, and
no one was in the streets, save t e sentries as
they aced their lonely rounds, for Major Glad-
wyn ept good disciphne among his troops and
was alwa s on the a ert for treachery.

At mi night, when all were sleeping except
'the guards, two figures crept silently ale m
the shadow, and approached the house- of d-
ward Gresham, and disappeared in the small
area at the rear. Fifteen minutes after there
rose upon the clear air of night one long, loud,
~terrible scream, the cry of a strong man in
agony; and fri htened citizens sprung up and
' ran to Gresham 5 house. The found a terrible
scene of confusion there, an ndian 1 ‘ng dead
upon the floor, Edward Gresham, ha f—dressed,
. with a bare sword 1.1 his hand. pacing the room

excitedly. and Ketadm standin near the wall
endeavoring to stench the bIoo which flowed
from a deep wound In his right arm.

,“ What is the matter here?” demanded the
foremost of the citizens.

“ Come and see ” replied Gresham, leading the
way. “ Murder has been done.” '

Murder! The frightened citizens took up the
cry and passed it from man to man, whispered
r it with white lips, and murmured it in hushed
tones. Murder, foul murder! For there, in the
room which was usually occupied by Edward,
lyingina heap upon the bed, pierced through

 

and through h dreadful Wounds, lay the mor-
tal remains 0 poor Pierre Guilbert, dead, but
yet warm. There were marks of bloody hands
upon the sheets and bed-clothing, and the dra—
pery was torn and scattered, for the man had
fought for his his. How had this murder been
done? A wmdow in the rear of the house had
been forced open, and throu b that the assas-
sins had eutered to their blo y work. ..

Edward had been awakened by the first cry
of the wounded man, as he lay u n the floor he
side the fire. He had not wish to sleep. as he
had lanned an advanture that night, and had
told 'erre to lie down upon his bed, to be pre-
pared to assist them when they were ready to
go out. But, being wearied by the long travel
of the past few days, he fell asleep and was only
awakened by the death-cry of duilbert. The
two scouts had lain down with their arms beside
them, and started up armed in time to see that
there were four men in the room with Pierre,
and to assail them.

Ketadin, after a desperate s gle, had killed
one of the assassins, and receiv a doe wound
from his knife, another was shot by ward,
while the remaining villains took flight through
the o n window, and managed to escape. .

“ hat is this!” cried one of the citizens,
picking y something which lay beside the bed.

‘Look, the villains did not cut 011' one of
the r fellow’s fin ers in the struggle.”

“ o, no!” cried dward. “This is a clew
indeed. Look at Pierre and you will see that his
hands are not wounded.”

He seized the hideous trophy, and taking a
small bottle from the mantle, filled it with
s irits from a flask, and put the finger in it.

here was a ring upon it, and this he took off
and put upon his own finger. It was a diamond
of rare beauty, with a circle of rubles surround-
ing the central stone.

‘dward did not go out upon the emdition
he had purposed, but remained tosee faith-
ful servitor laid in the earth. The burial
took place on the next day, while the carcasses
of the slain Indians, one of whom was a man
unknown to any one in the fort, weie exposed ‘
u n a gibbet that day and left there at night.

ext morning, when the came to look for the
bodies, they were gone. oubtless the friends
of the slain Indians had come by night, and
stolen them.

Pontiac had kept his word with Rose St.
Aubiu, and at the appointed time she saw his
stately form stalking up the walk toward the
house. The face of the t chief took on a
pleasant smile as he look down upon the beau-
tiful girl holding her hand in his.

“ A great chief keeps his word," he said.
“ Pontiac promised to come, and he is here. Has
the good traderk returned from the Wyandot
village?”

“ He has not.”

“Then Pontiac must sing in the ears of the
Star of Detroit alone. Are her ears opento
hear his wordsl’.’

“I am alwa ready to listen to the words of
the great chie of the Ottawas,” replied Rose.

“Can the Star of Detroit be secret when a'
chief ks? Will she promise not to sing my;
words the ears of the chiefs of the Y/engees

“

/

W...“ N-v

.~ _.., n... ..

__»_..‘,_.. .

 

.- l

The Young Trailer; ' I 'V

 

 

“ I may tell it to my father?”
U Yes)

“Then I promise not to tell it to Major
Gladwyn or an of the white officers.”

“This is w done. Listen; when the Bright
Star sees a dark cloud in the sky, and knows
that a. storm is about to break over her head,
what does she do?"

“ She flies to the safety of her dwelling,” an-
swered Rose, adopting the figurative language
of the Indian.

“Good. The Bright Star shines quickly, and
her ears take in the words of a great chief.
Such a cloud gathers above Detroit but it does
not hang over the heads of the firench, who
have been the good friends of the red-men. Let
the Bright Star keep in the shelter of the wig—
wam for seven days, and then she may come
forth, and shine through the cloud.”

“What do you mean, chief?”

“ It is not good that you should know more.
Pontiac has done wrong to tell so much, but he
would save the daughter of the good trader
from danger.”

“ Does this cloud threaten my father?”

“ N3; the good trader is the friend of the red.
man.

“ Does it threaten Edward Gresham?”

“ The Trailer has a long tongue and has
made himself enemies. Let him hide himself
for seven days, and come no more to Detroit.”

“ Chief, was it you who sent the arrow to
warn Gresham to go awa l?”

“ I sent no arrow to im,” replied Pontiac.
“An Ottawa would only send the war-arrow to
him, and send it to his heart. Let him flee away
from the vengeance of the great tribe.”

“ May I te him this?”

“ You may warn him, but do not tell him that
the warnin came from Pontiac, chief of the
Ottawas. member that you have given your
word, and tell no one save t e good trader, your
father.”

The chief turned and walked away by the
river-side toward the Ottawa village. Rose re-
mained alone, waiting for the return of her
father, or the coming of Gresham, but neither
came. About nine o‘clock a rap at the door
startled her, and she rose and hurried to the
door, thinkisgg that Gresham had come; but she
was surpri to see a stran er standing upon
the step, whose brows were s (led by a heavy
hat concealing the upper part of his face.

“ Excuse me, mademoiselle.” he said, speaking
excellent French. “ but may I ask if this is the
ho‘l‘mfi of grilbert St. Aubin, the Indian trader?”

is.

“ Is he expected to return soon i”

“I expect him every moment.”

“Then. with your permission, 1 will enter and
wait for him.”

“ You are welcome, sir.”

The man entered, and she closed the front door
and preceded him into the little parlor, where
the stranger removed his hat, and turned his
face toward her, and she started back With a
cry of surprise. ,

‘ You here. How dare you?”

“ I could not resist the temptation, ma belle,”
replied the other, 3», 1y, but with a lurking
malice inhls eyes. “ was informed that your

 

 

 

father was not at home, and took the opportu- ,
nity to pay my reSpects.’ . _
‘ What if I were to go to Major Gladwyn and . “

tell him that you are here? You know that you a "
are outlawed, and that a word from me would [ 3
seal our doom.”

“ at you will not speak that word, ma che're
Rose,” he answered. ‘ ' ’ ,

“ Why should I not?” '
“ You have not the heart to do it, in the first ,_ ‘
place. Remember that I have come out of love ‘ i.
of on, and nothing else. I have loved you long
an tenderly, and you have cast me OR for a
stranger. I saw you today, standing upon on-
dcr steps, with his hand clasping yours, an his ,3
lips pressed to yours. on, in that moment I  V,
could have killed him where he/stood, but I held,  ’
my hand.” ’ ‘

‘You dare not meet him face to face.” A

“ Dare not! Even now I hold his life in my _ ~ '_
hand, and the lifting of a finger could save him, -
and unless you promise to give him up, and turn
to me, who have the best right to your love, he i
is no better than a dead man.” , v .,

“ You would not murder him?” _. 5‘- .. ‘r

“I do not say that, but that he is in imminent ' 
danger. from which you only can save him. - "g
Rose, this man is not of your nation, but of the 5.2.:
cold blood of the Colonies of England. He can *i 
not love you as I do. He does not know what "~,
love means, comparing his tame affection with "
the fiery passion of the children of the-South. I
am ready to do anything, to dare anything, for
your sake, and will even spare his life at your -
petition." ’

“ False! You do not love me. as you say, or ,
you would not try my heart as you win: now.
And when yOu traduce Edward Gres and
say that he does not love me, you know tha you
speak falsely.

“It often s me to the soul that a clod-hoppivnfi -
rascal, a nameless hunter, should dare to ri _
one With the best blood of France in his veins. ,
You loved me once.” ' r '

“ 1 was a foolish girl, and was dazzled by the
glitter of tinsel and a prospective title. But.
that time is past, and good or bad blood is as
nothing to me.” I

“ Nothinagl stands between me and that title I;
save a par ytic old man who may die any day. A.
Think what you would gain than as my wife for _ “
thereis nothin I might not claim if I  the; '
title to which ‘ '

“ You can not tempt me. Go your way,
never speak again of this, for it is hopeless. ’

“ You scorn my love, than?” *

“Not that; I can not be false to the love I- 
bear to Edward Gresham.” ' r ‘ ' i ‘

“You gave the same love to me once, before
this accursed scout came.” , ‘

“ It is true. as you say. But when you com-
mitted the crime for which on were outlawed,
you had no longer any cl upon me. Such-
villainy would have dissolved any tie." . ~ ~~ y .

“A man insulted me, and I stabbedhim to _‘ v:
the heart.” ’ >

“ A ain a falsehood. You insulted the wife,
of an onest man, and the husband struck you .
in the face with his 0 11 hand. For which! not ,
you waylaid him wit our bravoes by night, in
the deep forest, and kil ed him, haseiy, 

 

 

  
  
 
  
  
 
   
    
 

 

 

am heir.”

and V'

 

.~ \.

 

 

  

8 w ' The Young Trailer.

ously. For that act you were outlawed, and for
that act I tore your image out of my heart,
never to replace it.”

“This is your reading of my act, is it?” he
hissed. “ I will tell you it was a false tongue
which says that I insulted the wife of that base-
born hound, and he deserved his fate.”

“And that poor woman, whose husband you
so treacheroust slew, now roams the forest,
weaving chaplets of Wild flowers, seeking for the
murdered husband she loved so well. Oh! it
would touch a heart of stone to meet her and hear
her plead so plaintiver that some one will tell
her where he 5.”

“Is she mad?” murmured the outlaw, in a
hushed voice. “ It cannot be.”

“She is mad, vile man, and your wicked act
hasmade her so. Beware of her for when we
speak of you her eyes begin to ieam, and she
takes out the dagger she always eeps, the blade
with which he was slain, and looks upon the
steel, and murmurs something below her breath.
aggaps it is a vow of vengeance; who can

“ Silence! how dare you speak of that to me?

' These walls have ears, and a breath of my name

- would bring these low-born hounds upon me,
eager for my blood. Death of my life! It has
come to a pretty pass when a man cannot kill
each] a creature as that, without all this ado
about it. "

' “ You have a wicked heart, man, whose name
I will not speak—a cruel, cruel heart. Leave
me, for I cannot breathe the air you pollute, and

I sosurely as I live, it you dare to come to De-
troit again, I will give you up to justice.”

“ You will?”

“ Yes. Hear me—”

“ Do not swear, for you know not what you
do. It will not save your lover if I am destroy-
ed. for there are those under my orders who
would onl strike the harder it were taken.
You mus reconsider your decision, for your
lover’s lite hangs upon it, and not only his, but
the lives of many others. ’ \

“ What do you mean?” '

i“ The fate of Detroit trembles in the balance.
A spark threatens it which a single breath of
minecan blow into a flame. Outlaw though I
am‘, et I amnot so powerless as you think.’

‘ ice in one day I have been warned. Have

you leagued with Pontiac to destroy this settle-

menti”
“ Pontiac! Who said anything of Pontiac or
any other Indian?"

No matter; are_you base enough to join with
sav against white men? Ithought ou vile,
but t s would be the crowni crime orall.”

“ You are too sharp, mp, bel ,” said the stran-

g, sullenly “ We Will say no more about

I t, if you please, but return to the other sub-

ject. I tell you that I have sworn an oath that

{film be my Wife, and by all the holy saints,

1 Will keep my oath. When your base lover’s

, body is brought toyou, dead, then in that hour,
remember me and my revenge.”

“ Wretchl”

n —ke_ep this interview a secret
your father. If it becomes
the denouement. On
hed, night and day.

fi

known, temonly
 me"

I


-" l' , ,
"7'2 y.;/_‘.- m. 93”} .

 

,{. w .
- .; as»? " >4:

 

Ever movement on your part, and on that of
the ailer, is reported to me each day, and
when I choose to take my revenge, it is mine.
Hal who is that?"

“My father has returned. Now, villain, you
are in my power.”

“ Not yet; hide me, or show me the way out
of the house at the back.”

A loud rapping at the door was heard, and the
voice of a man calling the name of Rose.

“ I will not aid you.”

“ Very good; then open the door and admit
him, and I will shoot him as I would a dog.”

” Rose, Rose i” cried the voice at the door.
“ Wake up, my girl. It is I, your father. Open
the door, quick, for I am weary."

“You will not kee your word,” murmured
Rose. “ You surely 0 not mean it."

The only reply made by the desperate outlaw
was to remove a pistol from the black belt which
encircled his waist, shake up the powder in the
Han, and lay the barrel of the weapon in the

ollow of his hand.

“I will show you the way out,” said Rose
quickly. “ This way.”

The man followed her Without a word as she
ran swiftly down the hall, opened a door at the
back, and passed quicklgathrough the kitchen,
when she pointed to the ck door and stopped.

“ You promise not to betra me?" he said,
pausing with his hand upon the hack.

“Yes, yes; go.” .

“ Not even to mention my name i”

“ Not even that, if you will go at once, before
my father gets impatient.”

“ Not to this Edward Gresham, most of all?”

“ No, I ive my word—”

“ Enoug ; you will keep your word, I am
sure. And now good-by for t e present, but we
meet again.”

He swung open the door of the kitchen, and
was about to pass out when a hasty step was
heard outside, and Gabriel St. Aubin and the
outlaw, without warning, stood face to face! -

 

CHAPTERIV.
WILD MADGE.

EDWARD Gassnm and Ketadin, when the I

body of poor Pierre Guilbert was laid in the
earth, took their de rture from the fort, but
notto ether. The ndian went first, and ro-
ceed down the rivar, and half an hour a r,
Edward went out, armed for the hunt, and pro-
ceeded up the stream. Taking such widely di-
vergent paths, it would not seem that they were
like y to meet, but an hour later the were
seated _together upon a grassy knoll, t ree or
four milesto the southwest of the Ottawa vi]-

lage.

“ Do you think any one noticed our de -

turebchieflz" said tag Trailer. dy 1 1’”
‘ont now. ouagood ea;mabe
not think." y

“Did you see anything of the Little Prophet?”

“No; one to Ottawa with Pontiac, and no
come bac .”

“I’ll lace that little rascal’s hide with a hick-
ory. the first time 'I meet him. I believe the
little thief set these men on us last night, who
killed poor Pierre.” ’ '
S ' , \ , ' ‘

x ., f ‘~

 

 

\

The Young Trailer. ‘ 9’

 

“ Not after Frenchmen; after you.”

“I shouldn’t wonder. It was the merest
chance in the world that I did not sleep there
m self.”

‘That was an Ottawa who fell by my hatchet,
but I do not know him. Waghl why did he
raise his hand a ainst Ketadin?”

"You taught im better than that, old boy.
How is your wound?”

“It is nothing. A pin digs deeper than an
Ottawa hatchet and he was a fool, and died the
death of a fool.”

“ Hark! what is that?”

The Indian inclined his ear to listen. They
heard a clear sweet, mournful voice, full of
wonderful pathos, singing the words of a sad
song, evidently an impromptu. It told a touch-
ing story of woman’s love and faith, of a mur-
dered husband, and an unhappy quest-for the
loved and lost.

“ Wild Madge,” whispered Edward.
girl! what can she be doing here?”

A footstep stirred the forest leaves, and, di-
rectly after, a strange being appeared. She was
still young, and had been beautiful, but her
beauty was faded, and her tattered arb, dish—
eveled hair, and wandering eye to] that the
Door brain had given way beneath her sorrows.
Her clothing was torn by bush and bramble,
and tan led with burrs, and her white feet
showed t rough her worn moccasins. A ay
scarf was wound about her tangled locks ike
a turban under which her eyes gleamed
bright) , but with a restless, changing light.
In one hand she held a stout staif, with which
to assist her footsteps over the perilous way,
and in the belt of her waist hung a leathern
sheath, which held a dag or with a handle of
tarnished silver. She d £11015 seem to fear the
two men, but sat up a silvery laugh, as she came

toward them.
, “Gresham uponm life! I am so glad to
meet on, Edward. ave you seen my Willie
' anyw ere?" .

“ No,” replied Edward, sorrowfully, but With
the evident intention of soothing her. “Is he
hunting?”

“ I don’t know,” she said. “ I lost him yester-
day—was it yesterdayi—and I have been look-
ing for him. Willie is a good hunter. Sure
nothing has harmed him.”

“ N o, no, my poor girl ” said Edward softly.
“Willie is safe where the wicked cease from
troubling, and the weary are at rest."

“The wicked? Ah!” The poor pale hand
stoletothe handle of the dagger, drew it out
and ‘looked intently upon the blade, and the dark
spots which Were plainly to be seen about the
hilt. Her lips moved, and she seemed to mut-
ter something to herself, though what it was
they could not make out.

‘ Sit down and rest, Madge,” said Edward,
kind'll‘y. “ You must be ve tired."

“ iredi” she said, wil ly. “What ri ht
haveItobe tired until I have found Wil 1e?
Everything mocks me; I am very tired, very,
ver tired, and so hungry.”

e made her sit down on the mossy knoll and
gave her the cold meat he had brought for him-
self, and Ketadin added some parched corn
trom the pouch at his side, and brought a flask

“ Poor

 

of pure, clear water from the stream close at
hand, which she drank eagerly, and he went to
fill it again. She ate ravenously, like one who
had long hungered, and Edward sat by her and
helped her to food until she was satisfied. ‘

“ That is good,” she said. “I am strolxig
again, and can go out and look for Willie. e
will not be Ion in coming back think?” ,r

“ I ho not, ’ said Edward with a great effort
at cheer ulness, though he knew that her mur-
dered husband had slept under the green grass
by the river-side for two long years.

“We were very happy in our little home,”
she said, softly— ‘ very, very happy. We were
poor, but this new land easily gave us all’ we
needed, and I did not pine for the country I had
left, though sometimes when I fell asleep I
would dream of the hawthorn hed es in old
Kent, where he first knew and love me.

r Willie! Oh, who will find him and bring
im back to me?” ‘ x ,

“A curse upon Gaston Delisle," muttered
Edward. “ Oh, that I had him on this-green
sward, face to face, and I wouldgive his bodyto
the crows, and send his soul, black with man
crimes, into the presence of outra

“Gaston Delisle!” whispered edge, draw-
ing out the dag er again and looking on the
blade. “Why oes that name haunt me! V
Why, when I hear it, does my poor brain can- “3
ceive such bloody thoughts, and wish to see him A . 
lying at my feet, dea ,dead, dead? My brain
reels; I grow faint. Ah!” , v

She uttered a gasping sob, and sunk sense-

less into the arms of Edward Gresham which >

were outstretched to receive her. He laid her.
gently down, and taking his flask, wet her lips

and nostrils with spirits, while the chief, after I. 

bringing another flask of water, stood looking
down upon them with a mood brow.

“Wh is she so 7” he said, ouching his toro- -
head. ‘ The hand of the Manitou has been laid ‘
heavily upon her. Can ou tell me why?"

“Yes. This poor gir , two years ago, wasa .
happy bride, one of the fairest flowers that,

bloomed beside the Detroit. Her husband loved ‘

her tenderly and she was ve happy but in
an evil hour’she met Gaston l'Dyelisle a ’Frenc -

man, who boasted his good blood, and who  I

looked diwainfufly upon common man. s
hound approached her with an‘ insult, and she
struck him in the face with her open hand. He
renewed the insult at another time, and‘the
called her husband, who came to her aid, and
beat the dastard almost to death. Will Sinclair
was a strong man and a brave one and Delisle
was a ch 1d in his hands. This Delisle was the
nominal head of the French colony after Car- '
dillac left it and he had about him a number
of desperadoes of all classes. These wa laid
Sinclair in the woods, and there we foun r‘his

'tfody, mangled almost beyond recognition;

he dagger with which he received his death; “ ,

wound was beside him, and on the silver hilt,

e raved, was the name of Gaston Delisle, who  .
he escaped. He was outlawed for the crime,.

and even now there is a price set upon his head.
He was then bethrothed to Rose St. Aubin but
she cast him of! from that hour, with disdain.
“Did you ever see him?”
“ Once only, and then I, had only a fleet- , '

  

 

 

aw. j.‘ 

Heaven.’ , - W

 

 

a. I

 

 

 

 
  
   
   
   
 
   

10

The Young Trailer. ,

 

‘ ingglimpse. I don’t think I should know him

' again.”
' “ ook "said Ketadin, holding out his brawny
arm. “ "s Ketadin a strong man?”

(5

“ Is be true to his friends?”

“ He is.” .

“Then listen to his words. One day he will
meet this man with a dog’s heart, and tear him
limb from limb. It is spoken; a Delaware can-

< not lie.”

Even while he spoke, the young man had been
working to bring poor Madge back to conscious-

' ness but her swoon was like death.

.“ “you will kee your word, my brave friend,
and I pray God that the time may come soon.
From the moment the poor irl saw the man-

ed form of her husband, W om she had fol-

owed from across the great salt water to this
home in the wilderness, her poor brain gave way
and she was mad.”

‘V‘ But why does she walk the woods? Was
there no one to give her a place in tho Wigwam,
and food to eat?

“ Many would have done so, but the poor child
does not think her husband is dead, and seeks
for him in the forest. To her it seems that he
went away but yesterday, and she remembers

~ thamurder only when the name of the villain is
spoken.”
u At this moment the fainting woman drew a
long breath; the color came back_to her white
' face, and Edward raised her to a Sitting position
and supported her.
, “ Are you better?" he said, kindly.

“ Yes, I am better. Where have I been—
wliat has been done?”

“ You fainted Madge, because you have

walked so far an are weary. Had you not bet-‘
ter go to Detroit, and wait there until Willie
comes back?”
“ Do you think it best?”
“Yes; because when he comes back he will
' not find on it you are away.” .
“ I didy not think of that,” she said, springing
' a quickly. “Perha s he has come home while
‘ Igave been looking or him, and I must hasten
1,

back.

“Are you afraid to go back alone. Madge? If

1 you are, one of us will go with you until you can
see Detroit.” * " I

“ Afraid? What is there to fear in the

woods? ,When I am here, I am happier than

, at any other time. The birds sing tame; the
running brooks make music; little spirits come
out of the rocks and trees and talk to me. I saw
three spirits yesterday, who were very kind, and
said pleasant things to me, and made my sore
heart glad.” _

“ God surely protects the innocent and unsus-
pecting, Delaware,” said Edward.

“ The Manitou always watches over those upon
whom his finger has been laid,” replied the war-
rlor. “ Sister! When you are alone in the
woods, can you talk with the spirits of the rocks
and'trees?”

, “Yer and they are beautiful-they are di-
vine! hen I lie down at night beneath the

 trees, they sing above me all the long night

th 0 h and ‘ve me rest.” .
7 again infillined his head slowly. He had

 

 

been taught to believe that unfortunates like
Madge were especially under the care of the
Manitou, and that they were given the power
of conversing with the spirits, which he be-
lieved inhabited the earth and the various forms
of vegetable life.

“ I will go back with my sister and show her
the shortest way,” he said. “ My brother will
wait for me by the three tall pines.”

“ Agreed,” said Edward. ‘ Make what haste
%ou can after you have shown her the way to

etroit.” '

The Indian nodded, and, beckoning to Madge
to follow, he led the way through the forest,
while Edward looked after them with a kind-
ling: eye.

“ And that man is what they call a savage!”
he said. “How many of my race would turn
aside from a pressing duty to do an act of kind-
ness to a friendless woman, no matter what her
wrongs? All honor to such savages 1”

He turned and plunged into the woods to the
right. Traveling as the crow flies, turning
neither to the right hand nor to the left, he came
out upon the river-bank within a hundred feet
of the spot for which he had aimed, so accurate
was his knowledge of woodcraft, especially in
the section in which he found himself. Close to
the river-side, three towering pines grew to
gether, so close that their roots interlaced. He
sat down upon one of .the huge roots as it pro-
truded from the earth, and taking a book from
his pouch began to read. Edward Gresham
scout and hunter though he was, had a good
education and a taste for literature, and the
book he was reading was an old work on astron-
omy lent him by one of the officers in the gar-
rison.

It was a strange sight to see this man, in the
depths of the American forest, solacing himself
by a study of the wonders of astronomy. Yet
he read like one who enjoyed it, but with ears
open to detect the slightest change in the sounds
of the forest about him. '

All at once the book dropped into his pouch,
and, turning suddenly, be p un ed in between
the roots of the three pines and isappeared. It
was not done a moment too soon, for steps
were heard, and two men entered the little glade
beside the river. The first was the great chief
Pontiac, movin on with the stately tread which
seemed part 0 his nature, and the second a
white man, dressed in cloth of somber black, re-
lieved by gold buttons and lace. About his
waist was Sti’agpezl a handsome belt, with a die:
mond in the uckle and an elaborately-orna-
mented sword-hilt showed itself as he walked.

He carried pistols of exquisite workmanshiepi,

and held in his hand arifle of the most approv

make, the stock inlaid with Silver en aved
richly and showing the arms of a noble ench
house. His right arm was in a sling, and it was
evident from his motions and the care with
which he handled the limb, that he had been
lately wounded. He wore a black felt hat with
a droo ing feather, while a crepe mask of black
was clbsely drawn over the. upper part of his
face, completely concealing it_ from View. He
was evidently in pain, for is lips could be seen

workin nervously below his mask. _
“My rather is weary and in pain,” said the

 

i

V

i

Q

9'

5.
i
,.

a 
“‘

 

‘ /

The Y1)“; Trailer.

/ , , .» l ,, 1‘
y .' ,7!

11' ‘

 

chief. “ Let him be seated.” The white man
dropped upon a mossy knoll, and even the slight
motion drew a snarl of pain from him.

“ My brother failed last night,” the chief said.

“ Failed, yes and all through the accursed
luck which follows some men through life, no

“ matter where they go.”

“ Let us say no more of that. The plans are
well laid, and in a few suns not an Englishman
will live in the Indian country. They laugh at
Pontiac, and look at him as a poor Indian, but
he has it here in his head, and will study out
some plan for vengeance.”

“ It shall be so. These accursed villagers,
who drove me out from among them, shall feel
the weight of my hand. Chief, I am in burning
torments until I can be aven ed.”

“ Vengeance shall come,” said the chief, sol-
emnly. “It is the right of an Indian, and he
will have it. A ni ht of blood and death shall
settle over the Ian , and when the cloud lifts,
the English shall be no more.”

“Have you laid your plans well for the tak-
ing of the other posts as well as Detroit?”

“A chief forgets nothing. The warriors are
at work, and our plans cannot fail."

“ ember one thing, however.
Gresham is mine, to kill as I choose.”

“My brother shall have him though the Lit-
tle Prophet hates him, and would have his scalp
to hang in his lodge.”

“ The Little Prophet asks toomuch. Long be-
fore he received an injury from Edward Gresh-
am, he had done me a wrong which nothing
could atone for."

“ Liar I” cried a hollow voice. “ Tremble, for
the hour of your doom is near at hand.”

,“ The masked man bounded to his feet and
even the impassible Indian faced hastily about,
with a hand upon the hatchet.

“ Pontiac, beware,” cried the same hollow
voice. “The Spirit of the Pine speaks to you,
and tells you to look to yourself. Not to the
Yengees, but to the Indian, sorrow shall come.”

The two conspirators looked at one another
with awestruck and pallicl faces, while that
solemn voice pealed out its warning.

“Murderer, the spirit of our murdered vic-
tims are not laid. Their b ood cries out from
the earth for vengeance, and the hour of your
doom is nigh. Beware 1”

With one accord they turned and dashed head-
long throu h the forest, each looking over his
shoulder, fu l of deadly fear. A moment after,
laughing heartily, Edward Gresham came out
from his hiding-place beneath the roots.

CHAPTER V.
THE BLACK LEAGUE.

WI left Gabriel St. Aubin and the disguised
visitor face to face and for a moment the two
stood regardingeac other intently, each making
no movement, but watching an opportunit .
St.‘ Aubin was a man of middle a e, stouty
built, with a handsome open face, in] of frank-
ness and benevolence. ‘

“ Well, sir?” said St. Aubin at length. “ May

This man

 

 , I ask to what I am indebted for the honor of

' this visit and whom I address!”
“Anothentime, my dear, sir,” replied the
stranger, in adisguised voice, 1' _t present I

 

must leave you, as I have other business to at- ; '
tend to.” ,2

“Not yet, sir. I must know before you go ‘
why you are here. You certainly do not come
without an object.” _ .

“Assuredly not, sir. I came to see you, but,  
as you were detained beyond my hour, I must ‘ 1' '
bid on good—night.” r '

“ be are you?” persisted the trader. “Rosa,
what does this mean? After the faith I have
put in you, surely you will not turn traitress to
gel nTcll me who this man is, 'and what he seeks

ere. ,
“ Do not attem§t to stop him, for my sake,”
pleaded Rose. “ ou must not: you shall not 3’

The stranger stood with folded arms, readyato
take advantage of any opening for escape. ut
as St. Aubin blocked up the door completely,
Escape1 that way was impossible without a , ~ '

in g e. ’

“ thim go free, father," pleaded Rose. “ He .
isa desperate man, and may do you someharm." ’

“ He has not harmed you, Rose, nor dared to '
other on an insult?” cried her hither. ‘ -

o, no; e was ust going w en you re -
authe door, so stand aside and let him passEyed

“Ay, Gabriel, stout old boy, let me go safely ‘  ,.
away. I promise that you shall see me again, fl'
soon,” sneered the visitor.

“ Rose, this is suspicious. Who and what is i ‘
this man?” ' '

“I dare not speak his name, but for my\sake
let him go free.’

Gabriel glared at her for a moment without ..
reply, and then rushed resolutely forward and
seized the intruder .in his strong arms—so
quickly, indeed, that he had not time to"'draw a1“ .
weapon, and r uired all his addreSS to kee his.
feet. It was a esperate struggle, hand to and
and foot to foot. They roll to the floor to-
gether, and in the struggle the hat fell from ’the. ‘

end of the stranger. and his face was exposed
and St. Aubin uttered a cry of surprise. \ ’
l ‘ggou, you, murderer! Have I trapped you at
as ' .

“Hold your hand, Gabriel St. Aubin. You;
have forced me to show my face, and for that I ,
will have your life. ”

“ Father!” cried Rose. u

“Silence, girl. Do you tell me that you have
admitted this wretch into the house of an ho
man? Ha, would you?” \ - . I I  v

The younger man was making a desperate
eflort to draw a Wea on, but St. Aubin antici- .
pated the effort, and eld his wrists firmly, ris- _
mg with his knee upon his breast. . 

‘ You have me, ’ said the van ished man,
sullenly. “ But, I tell you that i would have I 
been, better for you to die than to so degrade 
me. ’ fig,

“ Have our own way, yillain. You shall die '
by the gel ows." ‘ _

“Never! I would kill myself With my own~‘

d ’l v

 

 

 
 
    
   

“ You shall not have the opportunity. Bria 3‘
r0 , Rose: I can take care of this mounds-5R ‘

‘ Remember what I told on, Rose,” hissed
the prisoner. “If I am on, his doom is '
sealed.” , _

“ Bring the rope!” thundered St. Aubin. “ It}
hangs in yonder closet.” « _ >

    

 

 
   
 

}: The Young Trailer.

 

Rose did not move. She believed what had

- boon told her, and that the villain had it in his

power to destroy her lover, and she dared not
, aid her father. Instead, made desperate  the

peril in which two she loved were place , she
threw herself upon her knees before her father
and begged him to release the prisoner.

“ You know not What you are doing, father.
Oh, my heart, my heart will break. Release

, him' let him escape! I beg it on my knees."

“ Let him give n his weapons then,” said St.
Aubin, “ and then will suffer him to rise."

Rose stooped and snatched the pistols from
the belt he wore beneath his cloak, and gave
ghem to her father, who at once sprung to his

. eet.

“ Risel” he said, “ and let me understand this
thing.”

The prisoner arose slow] . his eyes blazing
with anger, and his hands c osed so tightly that
the blood started from beneath his fin er—nails.

-. “ Look you, sir,” he said; “ this wil neither

V . be forgotten nor forgiven.”

“Put a bridle on your tongue, scoundrel that
you are, for you are not free yet, by any means.
Once more, why did you come here?”

, . “’I came to see Rose, who was very glad to see

‘ me.

, “ False! Father, have I ever told you an un—

truth?"

“Never.”

V“ Then listen to me. There does not remain

in my heart a single spark of tenderness for that

, base man. He came here unexpectedly, and

gained admission by professing to wish to see

on keeping his face covered. He ained noth-

V: ng by his coming, and you have on y to look at

his face to be certain that I am telling you the
truth.”

“ Your word is sufficient, my child, and you
need say no more. But, why am I not to give
him up to justice? Stand where you are or I
will shoot you down like a dog, you rascal."

The last exclamation was drawn out by a
glovement of the prisoner in the direction of the

car.

“You must let him go, father. When he has
, esca ed, I will tell you why.”

"" o, if you dare,” hissed the man, turning
', his fiery eyes upon the flushed face of the
speaker.

“‘Deny me that, and I will not oppose my
father longer. ”

“ Since you insist upon it, let it be as you say,
but not until I am gone. Have I liberty to de—
, r part. Gabriel St. Aubin?”

,. . “Yes, with this proviso. If on dare to show
year face here again, nothing s all save you.”

‘ “I fear you not," replied the man, sullenly.
“Give me back my weapons.”

“You have your Sword, and that is enough

   

 Tor you. Go your ways and remember my

' . warning.”
“ I might give a warning too, my worthy
friend, but I shall not waste my breath“ Only
. ' bear this in mind, that I never yet was insulted
, ‘ but  w: out the wrong in the best blood of
' _ the insu ter. I bid you good-night.”
I And waving his han withalook of hatred
‘ impmnted u n his face, the outlaw turned upon
 histh and aft them. / ..

i

   

  

 

 

Upon reaching the street, he paused for a
moment, in evident uncertainty, and then hur-
ried away toward the fort. A whispered word
took him past the guards, and he stood within
the stockaded ,inclosure and rapped in a pecu-
liar manner at a low oorway, which swun
back immediately in answer to the signal, an
closed as quickly behind him. All was dark-
ness in the room by which he entered, but he
proceeded boldly, like one who knew the way,
and opened a door at the end of the room, show-
in a stairway leading downward, and dimly
lig ited. No other being had yet showed him-
self; the visitor passed down the stairs, and
found himself in a thick—walled cellar, without
windows, and lighted only b a single taper
which burned inasockct in t e wall. At the
bottom of the stairs was a sort of cupboard,
which he opened, and took therefrom a black
cloak, with the fieur dc lis of France worked in
white thread upon the breast; a pair of black
gloves; a skull-cap of the same somber hue,
provided with a thick visor, with openings only
for the mouth, nostrils and eyes, and which,
when put on, was a complete disguise.

He clothed himself as quickly as possible in
this para hernalia, and advanced to what ap-
peared to e a solid wall, and taking up a heavy
stone which lay there, struck twice upon the
wall with all his force. He had hardly done so
when, as if by magic, a blaze of light stream
from the wall directly into his face, and a voice
cried, in French :

“ Who knocks?" _

“A brother of the Circle of Vengeance,” re-
plied the outlaw, in the same language.

“ What does he seek here?”

“ Knowledge and vengeance.”

“These portals are never closed to faithful
brothers, who come here with those words upon
their lips. Can you sign the sign?”

“ I can.”

“ Do it.”

The hands of the outlaw were raised, anda
rapid sign given.

“ The sign is true. Can you name the namel’V
‘  When the ear of a brother is bent to receive

it.

The sentinel bowed his head, and a word was
whispered in his ear. He at once stood erect,
and said: I

“”You are worthy, faithful and true. Pass
on.

A heavy door, accurately painted so as to re-
semble the surrounding masonry, swung slowly
upon its hinges. and the outlaw assed a black-
robed figure holding a sword in is right hand.
Beyond the door was a platform, three or four
feet wide, and then a flight of steps, eight in
number, and at the bottom another door, from
which issued two horrible figures, in blood-red

robes, one holdinga knife, and the other a spear, ,

red with gore.

“Whom have we now?” cried the foremost.
“What outside man dares enter the Circleof
Vengeance without the password?”

“IfIam an intruder,” replied the outlaw,
“let the knife sever my head from my body,

the spear pierce my false heartihand fire 90n-

_etest." »

sume my frame: I am ready for
“‘ Give us the two word.”

en—

 

w- «4.-

next meeting, it you aresoagreed. Be

 

The Young Trailer. ’ 18

 

“ It is mitten on my breast.”

“ Show it.” v >

The outlaw parted the garments on his breast
and showed a circle im minted in India. ink
upon the bare skin. In t 0 center of this circle
were the letters “ C. of V.,” and under this the
Roman numera “ I.”

“ The Grand Commander I” cried tho man
who held the spear. “ Let the gates of the North
be open to receive him."

The door swung open, and he passed into a
spacmus cavern, lighted by many torches, and
furnished with benches aintcd black. On four
sides were raised seats ( raped in the same color,
and upon the north 9. hi her seat. Upon the
benches were anumber 0 men dressed in the
same manner as the outlaw, and all the higher
chairs were filled except the one on the north,
to which seat the unworthy lover of Rose St.
Aubin made his way, and faced the room, when
all, as one man, rose and bowed before him,
making the mystic sign of welcome.

_“Be seated,” he said, striking a column by
his side with the handle of a dag or which lay
11 ($3115. “ Brother Secretary, is t e circle com—
p e

“ It is, Grand Commandant.”

“ Have you called the roll, and made the
chain?”

“I have.”

“ Nothing is wanting to make a complete
chain?”

“Nothing.”

“ Is no link broken?”

“ Not one.”

_‘_‘ My brothers,” said the Grand Commandant;
rising in his place. “ you know the object of this
assocmtion and its teachings. All of you have
groaned in spirit as we saw the red-coats possess
the land which had been built up b Frenchmen,
and your hearts iowed with wrat at the insult
offered to the li es on the white flag. Loving
Franee as we do, it is for the object of avenging
her wrongs that I see you here, bound together
in one chain, too strong for mortal hands to
break. We have not been idle in these months
which have passed, and I can report good pro-
gress in the true cause. Our allies, the Indians,
are making ready for their t of the work,
and when the blowis struc , it will be a com-
plete and final one. The signal will soon be
given. ‘Have any of you a. private wrong to
aveiige?”

f‘ denounce Major Gladwyn, commandant,”
said one.

‘i Make the record I”

“I denounce Gabriel St. Aubin, who, a
Frenchman born. will not join us against the
enemies of his country,” said another.

“ Let his name be written. I myself denounce
Edward Gresham, known as the Trailer, and
would have his name written in red, that he
may be justified at once. There is a like charge
against the Indian Ketadin. his friend and com-
$111.01], and an enemy of- France who deserves

die. Write his name in red.”

“ I have so written it, Grand Commandant,”
re lied the secretary. . «

‘I myself will eel with these two, for the
good of the Order. Let the rest remain untilegfiir
1‘ Y

 

 

for the signal when it is given, and may it come
speedily. Dispense.”

The black-robed figures stole. off, one by one, -\
and scattered about the various houses inside
the fortress, until none remained except the
Grand Commandant and the secretary.

1 “Where are these Indians, Entienne?” said
1e.

“ Hidden at my house.” .

“ Let us go at once. Edward Gresham and
that red hound, Ketadin, must die to-night.”

CHAPTER VI.
FILING THE RIFLES. ‘ '

Rosa, with some difficulty, succeeded in satis-
fying her father that it was better to let the
outlaw escape. He did not share in her dread of
what the man might be able to do to Edward
Gresham, knowmg nothin of the secret Order,
and the power it had wit in the fortress. He
had been approached many times in relation to ,
a plan which some of his countrymen bad form-
ed to redeem Detroit from English rule. but had
uniformly refused to have anything to do with
it. He was one of those men who accept the sit- '
nation gracefully, and he had long ago seen that,
the power of his countr was on the wane in this
land, and had satisfied imself that the En lish
Colonies must triumph in the end, strugg e as
France might against it. . .

He had chosen Detroit as a home, and meant
to live and die there, and, consequently, wished

to maintain his influence with the reigning ,. 7‘. ,

were.
poYet he was satisfied that there was trouble
brewing among the Indians. Most of his . «
countrymen scouted the idea, especially those,
who wished him to join the Mystic Circle, but
his trade with the Indians gaye him an oppor-
tunity to see the growing discontent among
them. Pontiac's warning came in time to‘make .
assurance doubly sure and he was alre‘ad pre-
aring for the worst. lint even hedid not ream '
how widespread and complete the conspiracy , l
was, and that it included the entire chain of '
forts in the possession of the English, whit-h had 1
fallen when Rogers came against them with his
ran ers. ,-
o started out next day, upon a trading visit
to the Ottawas, hoping to draw something more I I
from Pontiac. Rose was uneas . and could not "
remain uietly in the house. S e went into the ,
fort, an the first sight she saw was the funeral '

recession of poor Pierre Guilbert, and Mm
Gresham walking next to the bier. Afterthe
funeral he had an opportunity of s eaking With \
her for a moment, and telling her t a manner 01 ~
the old cook’s death. .

“ You are in danger, Edward," she said. , ,
“This, following so close upon the warning,
means more than you think. and you mustbe
very careful.” _ ,

“ I know that I have enenues.”

“You have one enem whom you have most
cause to fear—a vindic ive villain, to when
blood is pastime. This man Will kill you it he
“‘3 "51?“ rig- w ' '

at s isname I , " ,,_

“ Edward, I have promised not to tell it, and"

I can not break my oat .” . ~. _

" Does your father know it?” ‘ ' ‘

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

‘ such a weapon?”

 

y

“ Do not ask it. You are safe for the present
—=he promised me that.”

“ Safel I should have been killed if Pierre
had not occupied my room that night instead of
myself. But, let it pass, if you care more for a
promise to a ruilian than for my safety.”

" Edward 1” she cried sadly, “you at least
ought to know better than that. ’

‘ I may w ong you; perhaps I do, but Why
not tell me the name?”

“ I dare not, Edward.”

“ Then say no more about it,” he said quietly,
“ and let me go on my way blindfold. I was
about to ask a favor of you, and now I am half-
afraid to do it.”

“ Ask it,” she said eagerly.

At this moment Edward looked up and saw a
Erenchman named Entienue Barbier standing
near at hand, leaning against a tree, apparently

_ gassing the time carelessly, and without any

eflnite object, but, with an eye which told a
secret. He was listening, but Edward was not
the person to show his suspicious and be nodded

.to the man, without moving a muscle of his

face. ,
" Wait for me," he said in a whisper to Rose.

“That fellow is listening to our conversation,
and I have a few words to say to him.”

“ Do not quarrel with him, Edward.”

“ Not I; you shall see us greet one another
with the utmost politeness, although I am far
from certain that he had no part in the assault

of last night.” .
He left her, and approached Barbier, who did

‘ not change his osition.

“ This is 3. ad business, Entienne,” he said.
“ I would give all I hope to gain this season to
know the author of this mischief.” .

“ Pierre was a good fellow,” said Entlenne,
slowly, turning his dark face to the speaker.
“Rather fond of you English, but that was not
a. grave crime, as he was not alone in it. I am
reallv sorry for oor Pierre.”

“ He was a aithful, true-hearted man, and
gave his life for mine. .
the author of this great crime.”

“ Indians, of course.” .

“ Two Indians and two white men disguised
as savages. One man had a sword; does it not
seem strange to you that an Indian should have
“ Sacra I” muttered Entienne, below his
breath. “ This fellow has keen eyes.

“ Did you mark the disguised white men so as
to 33$ any clew to them, Gresham?” he added
alou .

“ One of them waslabout your size and build,
as far as I can judge. He was the first to run,

‘ so that I can judge very little of him. The

other was face to face wit me for three or four
minutes before he fled. and I gave him a mark

1 .V to remember me by—the villain!”

» “ How do you know?”
“ Because I found this,” said Edward, holding

‘ up the bottle which contained the severed

finger, at which Entienne looked with terrified

 _ eyes. ,
" ~ “Take it awa -take it away!” he cried.

ds before his face. “ Pahl

“It takes but a trifle to do that, friend

v

spreading out his

1 it turns ,me sick.”

I am determined to find '

 

The Young Trailer.

Barbier,” said Edward, putting up the bottle.
“lThgt is not all; what do you say to this for a
c ew

He held up his hand upon which sparkled ho
ring, which had been ound upon the oev
finger, and a baleful light came into the eyes of
Barbier.

“ That is indeed a clew,” he laid. “ Will you
let me look at it?”

“ Certainly: do you reco ize the ring! There
is a peculiarity about it, w ich I did not notice
uuti this morning. The settin forms the let-
ters ‘ C of V,‘ and the numera I. I wonder
what that signifies?”

“ How should I know?” replied Barbier,
visibly disturbed. “ I must bid you a good—day,
as I have work to do.”

He hurried away, and Edward looked after
him with a keen, searching glance, his eyes
sparkling with animation.

“You are a. fox, Entienne Barbier but the
cutest fox is earthed at last, and so shall you be.
‘ C of V,’ I Wonder what that means?”

He turned back to where Rose stood waiting
for him.

“Let us walk toward the fortress,” he said.
“ I must find Kotadin, and go out upon my
work. The favor I desired to ask of you was
this. Can you, by any means, make an errand
to the Pottawatomie villa o to-day?”

“ Easily; there is an In ian girl in the village
who sometimes does in work for me and is very
fond of me. I can go little David Hughes to
take me over in his canoe”

“ David is safe with a canoe, and perhaps it is
better to take a youngster like that, for they
will suspect nothing.”

‘ What am I to o?”

“ Go through the village, and as you go, have
your eyes open and immediately upon your re-
turn tell me what you have seen. Note care-
fully what the warriors are about, and
whether they are won armed. You under-
stand me.”

“ When shall I go?”

“ As soon as possible, but be particularly
careful not to do anything to arouse their suns
picions. You are well-known and liked in the
village, and may 0 in safety. They will take
no pains to hide t eir movements from you, if
what I sue .t is true.”

‘,‘,There is David Hughes now. Call him to
us.

The youngster, when hailed came up to them
quickly, an showed a sum form. a shrewd
yisage, which proclaimed him a true border

oy. .
“Davy, my lad,” said Edward, “Miss Rose
wants to go to the Pottawatomie village. Can
you take her across the river?” '

I “ Egon bet I can. I know all about this river,
do! '

“And, mind you don‘t say anything about
my hiring you. When you come back from the
trip I’ll give you two Spanish milled dollars.”

“ I‘m your man.” said Davy. “When do you
want to go, miss?” ‘

“Now; as soon as you can.”

“Then you come ' ht along, for I’m always
ready for a job," said avy. ‘

The lovers parted with a mutual pressure of ‘

  

The Young Trailer.

   

18

 

the hand, he to go out upon his perilous work,
and she to perform an not not less dangerous,
for who could say what might result from her
visit? They reached the river-side, whore Davy
brought out his canoe, a safe, commodious craft
1 which Davy well knew how to handle. She
seated herself in the center of the light boat,
while Davy stood up in the stern, sweeping the
water with a nervous force hardly to be looked
for in one so young. They assed many canoes
going and returning, for of ate the Indians had
made themselves very free in the village, going
and coming at all hours. Most of these who
passed knew Rose, and saluted her kindly as
they dashed along.

“ Them’s dirty-looking thieves," said the boy.
_“ Do ye see that little island over yonder, with
the‘ léighatree in the center?”

as

“That’s whar Pontiac lives in the summer
time. He’s too high and mightyto live with
the common truck. Jinks; I’m afraid of that
Inzjun!”

‘Why Dav l”

“He don’t ook good out of his eyes, you
know. The critter is up to some mischief, I
reckon." .

“ Don’t talk in that way among the Indians,
Davy‘hor you in? get into trouble.”

“ -a-a-tl on don’t think I’m such a softy
as to blow when them red niggers are round, do

e? Not any; not any; not of I know it, but I

eep up a powerful thinkin’, and to my mind
the’r’ a greasy. smoky, nasty, treacherous crowd;
_but, don’t tell I said so, ’cause when I’m With

’eml likes to have ’em think the ar' an els
Without the wings. Set steady; t ere’sas al-
low here.” .

She sat quiet until the dangerous spot was
passed, Davy working industriously to keep

be head of the canoe to the stream, and make
some headway across the current.

“ Ther’s one al in this yer’ village that is a
Whoosher,” sai Dav , as he plied the paddle.

“ A—what, Davy?’

“ A Whoosher, an astonisher, a crusher!
Don’t understand English, you don’t, ’cause ye’: ’
a French gal, but it means she ain’t easy beat.
Her name is Katherine, and the Indians call
her Wa—ta-wa. Dunno what in thunder it
means.”

“Katherine is a beautiful girl, and a good
one, Perhaps I would bring her back with
me if your cainoe would carry three.”

. ‘.‘ Kerry three? I guess it will i” replied Davy.
“ I don’t like to take her to the village, for that
Delaware always hez something to say to her
over thar, and I’m goin’ to marry her when I

git a farm.”
“ Are you, Davy?” said Rose, laughing.
“ You bet I am! She ain’t uite so white as

you ar’, but she ain’t got muc
that’s a fact.” - ,

By this time they were very close to the
eastern shore, and Da gave his canoe a sheer
which caused it to dri t to the bank, when he
leaped out and secured it, and‘helped Rose out.

‘ I he you’ve thought of an errand in the
Rose; ’twon’t do  go thar with-

Injun in her,

 

 
 

1 .. , I
_.’, ‘-. v

    
   
     
  
   
   
    
 
  
     
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
    
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
    
      

me company in my house for a few days, while
my father is away, and to buy some maple
su er and venison. Is that a good errand'l’l r

‘ That’ll do; you ain’t nobody’s guy, you ain’t! , ..
Hullo, what’s that gratin”! They ain’t gone into ‘
the nutmeg business in the village, have the l" ,

The village was some yards away, and ‘ ’ ’ ,
could see that the spaces between the lodges were ‘
crowded with Indians, most of them seated upon
the ground, and Very busily at work. Pushing
the boat high up on the bank, Davy stopped an
listened. The harsh sound grew louder and he
shook his head evidently in doubt. Ilose left
him with the canoe, and crossing a little knoll
came suddenly into the village—so suddenly in-
deed that the warriors did not notice her and
kept at their work. Such activity on the part
of the Indian men was very uncomnaon, except
when they were at war. She looke at them
closely, without appearing to do so,,and saw that
all of them were em loyed in a very strange
manner. They had fl es, begged, borrowed or
stolen, as the case might be, and were an ed
in in filing of their rifle barrels, so as to eave
them less than a yard in length. What could it
mean? .

Rose was the daughter of a frontierman, and?“ _
as such, accustomed to danger; but now she‘ alt 
her blood turn cold in her veins at the si ht. .
She knew how much the Indians loved t eir \
rifles, and that the motive must be a very dee : -
one which would induce them to render the;
favorite weapons useless except at a short dis-
tance. She advancsd to the center of the vil-
la e, and, as her presence became known.'a pe-,
cu iar cry ran through the rude street. Every
Indian darted into his lodge, but came out after
leaving his rifle inside, sauntering aboutwith
careless case, while some of the women gathered
about Rose, and jabbered to her as on] Indian . , ,
women can, evidently to distract her 8. tion. ' . ‘
She. saw through the artifice, but it was too late;
she had seen enough, more than enough, to sat- ’-'
isf her that they meant mischief, but, too ml»
to save the village hastily, she sent the Indian
women this way and that in quest of the articles
she meant to buy, and proceeded «herself to ,
search for Katherine, the situation of whole ‘ '-
lodge she Well knew. Turning an an 1e of 'a - _' "
cabin, a man sprung forward and sei her by
the arm, and she uttered a cry of horror as she 1
recognized the outlawed Frenchman, the Grand i ~
Commandant of the Circle of Vengeance! T

 

CHAPTER VII. _
navr’s TRIUMPH. ' v

THE man still were his mask, but Rose knew _
him, and struggled to free herself from his fierce»

asp. “ At last at last I” he muttered. “ You

ve put yourself into my power.” ;

“ Stand back, sir,” replied Rose. “ How dare r ,
you lay a finger on my person after what has - z a

ssed l” - " -
mile laughed scornfully. “ My dear girl do; .
you think that because your fool of. a father A '
chooses to lay his orders upon me when I an! in
his power, that I am green enough to obey than
after I am out of his hands?” \ ‘ -

The girl cried out for help, and it came. Davy

 

 

 



   
 
 
 
 

    
 

Hughes had been sitting by the side of his tunes,
' , V s. l .

.4

  
 

‘ 3 “am!

‘16

age; a...” ,, ,

waiting fer the confing of his fair friend, and
'Watching the canoes of the Indians passing to
and fro in indolent ease, when he heard the
voice of Rose crying out for help, as if in immi-
nent peril. Bnatching up a paddle, he ran at
' full speed over the brow of the hill and into the
village, where he saw Rose struggling in the
stron grasp of a masked man, who was drag-
gin or away. Thinking of nothing but her
12:15, the boy dashed forward, and the first
owledge of his presence which the outlaw re-
ceived was a rap on the head which made his
ears sin and myriads of stars dance before his
eyes. , taggering back from the shock, he sunk
‘ ' upon’r'his knee, and, as the blurr passed from his
eyes, he saw the brave be standing between
him and Rose, with the pad le heaved back over
his hhoulder, ready to strike again, if necessary.
“Wah—yi I” yelled the boy. “Waken up
and walk s es! What do you put your dirty
hands on Miss Rose for?”
“ You young scoundrel,” hissed the outlaw,
\/ lea ing up, With his hand upon his forehead.
" ow dare you strike me?”
“Shall I ve him another, Miss Rose?” cried
Davy, ea or y. “ Oh, say yes, and I’ll give it to

him 00 .

“Do not strike him again, you brave, good
boy,” said Rose. “ Oh, I am so thankful to you
for coming to help me, and Edward will thank

11,},  5,; 1‘

3.;- ._—... ‘R —

.55 news. .2



. n: 13;; 2

 

[you too.

' “ That’s snuff,” said Davy, grufliy. “ Ef the
Trailer feels kind 0‘ grateful to me, I’ll tell you
how he kin ‘1: even, if he’ll do it. Stand 01?, you
p’z'zen ,' don 1go for to come nigh me, or I’ll ive
A ouone that’l make you see more stars then er

in a cl’ar sky on a frosty night.”
' At this moment there was a commotion in the
crowd of frightened Indian women who had
‘ gathered, and the scattered like sheep as the
r \ tows form of ontiac passed throu h, and
he . the insulter with an ominous 100 in his

fierce eyes. .
“ What is this, mg brother?” he said. “ I hear
a tumult, and won] know the cause.”
. ,“ That spawn of the reptile has dared tostrike
,, me,” replied the outlaw, pointing at Davy

. nuggets.

, g ,. “ es, and I‘ll hit you ag’in of you put a hand
' ‘ on Miss Rose you scum o the airthl Come—I

‘ ain’t afraid of you, you mean French sneak.”

‘ “Bright Star,” said Pontiac, his grim face re-
laxing as it always did when in the presence of
Rose, 2‘ you are welcome to the village. Has any
man dared to do you wrong while here?”

“ He has," rephed Rose. “He seized upon me
, ’ and. swore that I should go with him.”
» “ Has my brother done this?” demanded Pon-
tiac. turnin to the outlaw.
“ Sheis in ne, andI‘will have her,” replied the
, other fiercely.
; atLy?!“ claim has my brother upon the Bright
’ “She is to be my wife.”
“- It is false,” replied Rose, indignantly. “ I
be him ”

‘5; have looked u ,n the customs of white
, men," said Pontiac," and I have seen that they
arev tender to their women when they love
in. ‘ y brother has done a great wrong this

' ‘ day; he has wronged the hospitality of, Pontiac.

  
  

 


‘1.

/

 
    
 
   
  
 
 
   
 
 

 

 

v
1

Katherine?” said the Indian girl.

The Young- Trailor. ,

See—I went to Detroit and said to the Bright
Star and to her father, the good trader, ‘ You
are always welcome to the lodges of the tribes,’
and yet, the first time she comes, she has been
insulted. My brother, if an Indian had done it
I would have laid him dead at my feet.”

“You have no right to interfere in this, Pon-
tiac; it is a private matter.”

“ This is my village. The Bright Star shall be
safe here always."

“ And you mean to take her out of my hands,
chief?”

“ She is as safe here as in her father’s lodge,”
replied Pontiac, with a kindly smile. “ If my
brother ever again does a wron to the Bri ht
Star he makes an enemy of ontiac, who 3
loved him well.”

“ And I am not to punish that young dog who
struck me with his paddle?”

“ The boy is brave and will make a warrior,"
replied Pontiac, la ing his hand protectineg
upon the shoulder o the brave lad. “ I will not
see him wronged by you or any man."

“Have it as you will,” replied the outlaw
“ but I will not forget it in the time to come.”

Saying this, he strode rapidly away and dis-
appeared among the lodges. The chief and out—
law had just returned from their conference at
the Three Pines, where they had been so fright-
ened by the mysterious voice, speaking from
the earth. After their first fear left them they'
had gone down to the river-side, and manéeaged
to find a canoe, in which they had proceed to
the village.

“ Will my daughter rest and take food after
the rils of the hour?” said Pontiac.

“ have no time, chief, but must return to
Detroit at once. ”

“Will the good trader come soon to the lodges
of the Ottawa?”

“ He says he will.”

“It is ood; Pontiac will welcome him to the
village. ave the words which the chief spoke
sunk into the ears of the Bright Star, and will
she remember i”

“I have not for otten. Now let me bid you
good-day, and flu Katherine, whom I Wish to
take back to Detroit with me. If you will be so
kind, I should like to have you send some veni-
1sign and sugar to my canoe, and I will pay for

em.

“ May not Pontiac give these things to a
friend? Look; we will not take money from the
hand of the daughter of the good trader for a
little venison an en ar.”

He called to one o the braves who was loung-
ing near, and gave him an order in the Indian
tongue. The man moved away with alacrit to
perform his bidding, and Pontiac beckoned a
woman to approac , and sent her for Katherine.
In a few moments a graceful girl, dressed in a
neat Indian costume, with a mild and stran ely-
beautiful face, same forward. This was a-ta-
wa, or Katherine, for by that name she was
known among the whites. She approached
with a beaming smile, and taking her hand
pressed it to her life while Pontiac looked at
these two types 0 female beaut , the blonde
and thebrunette, with undisgui ' admiration.

“ What is the will of the Bright Star with

9

\

 

 

 

The Young Trailer.

» 4

u‘

 

“ Will you come to Detroit, and stay with me
for a few days?”

Katherine looked in uiringly at the chief and
he nodded slightly. T e chief then drew ath~
e'rine aside, and conversed with her earnestly in
the Indian tongue for some moments. Just then
Davy, who had accompanied the Indian sent
awa by Pontiac, came back and said that a
goo supply of sugar and venison were in the
canoe, and that he was ready to go. The lad
winked at Katherine, who showed her white
teeth in a ny laugh.

“See,”s e said: “this boy will be a chief,
and he says that when he is a man he will make
me his Wife!”

“He is a brave boy, and I love him,” said
Rose. “ He has protected me from a bad man.”

“The man who covers hi face, and wears the
Sh‘ilJiYng‘ wampum in his belt?”

s

“ He is a wicked man. The Bright Star must
not cross his path, for his anger is terrible.”

They were soon in the canoe, and crossing the
river in the direction of Detroit. This course
was easier than the upward one, and in a short
time they landed. Davy undertook to bring up
the venison and su ar, while Rose hurried home,
accompanied by atherine. The first object
which the saw upon reaching the gate was
Ketadin, eaning a ainst a post, 'ap arentl
waitin for them. elf-crouching on t e eart
beside im was the worn and tattered figure of
Wild Mad e, the maniac wife of poor Willie
Sinclair. he eyes of Katherine brightened as
she saw the stately form of the Delaware, and,
although he managed to keep up an expression
of com lete stoicism, it was an utter failure on
his £1 for his joy at meeting her showed itself
in 's ace. Rose knew how matters stood be-
tween the redoubted Delaware and Katherine,
and was pleased at bringing them to ether.

“Who have we here, Ketadin ” she said,
looking at Madge. .

“Poor woman; Gresham sent her from the
woods.”

“ Who is she?”

“Don’t you know me, child?” said Madge, in
a petulant voice. “ I am Madge Sinclair; sure-
ly you know in Willie.”

‘ Willie Sinc air?”

“ Yes; have you seen him?” demanded the
woman. eagerly.

“No,” replied "Rose, sadly. “Come into the
house and rest, for you must be very weary. "

“_‘ Yes.  am weary, but Gresham told me that
Willle might be here. I am so sorry that he has
not come.’

' Rose knew the touching story of this woman’s
life, and felt a sisterly affection for her in her
sorrows. _Her acute mind at once took in Ed-
ward’s object in sending Mad e. They entered
the kitchen. Ketadin took t e opportunity to
press close to Katherine and look into her e es,
which at once dropped before his own. T ‘ey
had broken the stick of betrothal, and would
have been man and wife before this but for the
side which the Delaware took in the. approach-
ing struggle. At this moment Davy came into
the kitchen, and looked daggers at the . chief as
he laid down a load of venison.

“Ef that Injin ain’t herepalready, Miss Rose!

 

 

/
Say, do you think it fair to let him out in on me
that way?” ‘ ,

“ What is the matter, Davy 3" said Rose
laughing, while she was taking off the ragged
sash which Madge wore u on her shoulders.

“Matter? Matter sun I reckon! That In~
jun ain't no call to cut in and talk to Katherine
before I get a chance.”

Thus grumbling, the boy betook himself to the
canoe for another load, and worked steadily
until all had been brought up. In the mean time '
Rose prevailed u on Madge to lie down upon her
bed and rest, an she was soon slegging heavily;

“ Where is Edward, chief?" ask Rose.

“He is with Gladwyn at the fort.”

“ Go to him at once, and tell him that I have
news of importance. Or stay: you remain here.
with Katherine, and take care of her, and I Will
go myself.” 7 ,

Donnin her hat, she left the house. and passv

ing ra id y through the scattered suburb, en- V ~'
tered t e palisaded inclosure of the fort. As she ~.
reached the fort gates, she met Entienne Bar—
bier, who gave her a very ambiguous look and 1

smile as she entered. .

“Edward is right about that man,” she saw.“ '

“He has a strangely—forbidding look, and I al—
ways feel a sense of danger when I meet his evil
eye.
the J esuits.” 
She passed on and rapped at a door, when an
orderly appeared. Sending in her name to
Major Gladwyn, she was at once admitted. to
find Edward with the major, a handsome, but
idie—lookin man in a military fatigue dress, who

was lounging at his length upon a sofa while he V '
received the report of the scout, who was lean- ‘
ing over a small table, upon which stood a de- _

“ Iadmit that .

center and lasses.

“Here is ose,” said Edward.
we might be hasty in this matter, but we cannot
be too secure. Rose, what is your report?” j

“Let the lady be seated,” commanded Glad-
w n, rising to a sittin osture. “Will you
ta e some refreshments, iss Rose?” I

“Thank you, I wish for nothing, but I ‘hav
somethin important to tell on.” r

“ I wil hear it.” said Gla wyn. 

Rose detailed her visit to the Indian villas?i ' '1

and when she’ told them of the Indians filing 0
their rifles, Edward started to his feet.

“ Do you hear that, major? Now will you be
lieve that we are in dan er?” ‘

“ It looks suspicious, admit,” said the otherp
in an indolent tone. “ Why will these fellows
persist in making us trouble when we were get-
tinlghon so finely?’ ' '

e door opened and the orderly came in. “ A V A
Pontiac,” he said, and held out a, j ~
strip of white paper, written closely over in ‘.

message from

French. ;

The three looked at it and at one another. ‘ It ‘

was a demand for a conference with Pontiac and
sixty leading chiefs and warriors of the

Nations of whom Pontiac was the head, upon,” '

7

the next day. «

CHAPTER VIII.
rim warm or ran cmom.

 

Most of

     

I believe he is in some way connected with

r \

THE ni ht was one of deep trouble in the fort. 
the officers feared some evil, for they  ’

 

 

 

   
   
 
 

 

183 ( The Young Trailer.

 

been called to a conference, and been warned to
; < ~be etpecially upon their guard during the coming
'4 , ' darkness, and to allow no one to pass in or out.
" - ‘ Edward returned with Rose after the meeting in
' Gladwyn’s room, but was inside the gates before
gun-lire, according to orders. As he approach-
ed his door, he became aware that a white paper
- was attached to it, pinned to the wood by a small
dagger. Pulling out the blade carefully, he se—
cured the paper and took it inside. n the
, letter, in red ink, was the outline of a uman
hand grasping a sword, and below it these words:
,' “Enwmn Gauss“. the Trailer:—
." Twice you have been warned, but you would not
, heed. "Nothing can save you now; your blood must
' 1‘ flow. Beware the sword of the— . of V."
». “Umph!” muttered Edward. “ My mysteri~
é ous friends are at work again, but their warning
{I . shall notbe all unheeded. We shall see.”
. . Ketadin soon joined him. The sentries had
been doubled upon the ramparts of Fort Detroit,
and save these, no one was in the street. About
.f ‘~ one o'clock a side door in the house next to
j; Gresham’s opened and there stole out three som-
- her figures in masks and cloaks, and crept alon
in the shadow of the buildings until the reach
the rear door of Gresham’s place. Evi ently the
r . lock had been tampered with, for it required but
a slight eflort on t e part of one of the disguised

L‘ men to open it without noise, and, as it swung
 back' upon its hinges, they stole in, closed the
— ' door behind them, and were ready for their
5‘ ’ bloody work.

- ' They were now,in the rear room of the little
‘ house, generally used as a kitchen. The dark-
j 11659 was complete, but one of the intruders
{ sprun the slide of a dark-lantern, letting a faint
 1' ,- light ll upon the room. The men moved noise-
" ‘ lessly, for their feet were bare, and not a creak-
l ing board or the rustle of clothing betrayed their
presence. Who were these?

The appointed messen ers of the Circle of
Vengeance, come to pe orm the work of the
order!
, As they advanced to open the door which led
7 ,into the sitting-room, they were conscious of a
Delight rustling sound and paused. The door be-

gan to swing slowly on its hinges. Each man

, bared his dagger as the door opened to its ex-’
treme width, apparently without the agency of
human hands. hey waited in silence, expect-
ing to see either Ketadin or Edward; but, in-
stead, there glided through the doorway a H ure
_ which they well knew——the form of Pierre uil—
‘ hart, the dead vogageurl Behind him a dim
j 'li ht burned, and t e garments in which he was

othed were spotted with blood from his many
wounds, and his face was red with gore.

‘ -' He advanced with that gliding. n ‘seless mo-
tion characteristic of the spirits o the other.
,; world, with one hand holding up an accusing
._ . finger pointed at the three assassins, and the
 ,other raised to heaven, as if appealinng its jus-
J, , tice. Asingle look was summent. ith cries
1; 1. _I .ghiiiorror, the three men bounded to the door by
b  v. ch they had entered, only to find it locked

.upon the other side. The threw themselves
 r ,lagainst it with frantic vio ence, but it resisted

 :jtheir eflor while that dreadful fl stood in

 t[Icignter o the room, pointing its loody finger,

  
 
   
 
  
 
  
    
 

in.

 

“It was not I—it Was not 1, Pierre!” cried
one of the intruders, in a tone of frenzy.
“Others struck you down.”

Then another terrible figure bounded in, hold-
ing in one hand a blazing torch. It was a
gigantic form clothed in a white sheet. spotted
with gore and a bloody knife in its right hand.
The terrified men dashed straight at the win-
dow of the kitchen, carrying sash and all into
the street. Two of them rose, pale and bleed‘
ing, but a third remained, struggling in the
grasp of the strange being who had entered
last. He was forced down, a handkerchief
stuffed into his mouth, and, closely bound, was
drag ed into an inner room, where he was left
to himself, for the phantoms disappeared as
sudden] as the had come. Five minutes
after, dward (fi'esham came into the room
with a lamp in his hand and stooped over him.

“ Hal who are you, and what are you doing
here?”

The (prisoner of course could not speak, but he
uttere some inarticulate sounds. Edward re-
moved his hat and held the lamp close to his face,
and recognized in him one of the most turbulent
spirits among the French residents, and a great
friend of Entienne Barbier.

“ Ah, Jacques Grillon, my friend, this is our-
self, it seems. Ketadin, come in here, and ring
your knife.”

The Delaware glided in and kneeled beside the
shrinking wretch, passing his hand over the
crown of his head iua fear-fully suggestive man-
ner.

“Sacra! What are you about to do, Gresh-
am?” he cried, as Edward remewed the gag.
“ Don’t let the accursed Indian touch me.”

“ My dear friend Jacques,” said Edward

pleasantly, “ how would you like to be scalpedl” .

“ Scalped? You surely do not mean it?”

“ I don’t mean any thing else. You are about
to die unless you tel at once and truly what you
are doing here. "

“Scelerats! I won’t tell you! Do you think
me a fool?”

“ On the contrary, I think you are a very wise
man. I should consider you what you have
called yourself if you refused to answer questions
so earnestly put as mine are.

“ I will not betray my trust.”

“ Scalp him, Ketadin.”

The Indian twined his hand in the long locks
of the Frenchman in a scientific manner, drew
his knife, and made an incision in the scalp of
the prisoner, who uttered a cry of horror.

“Help, help, they murder me!” he cried.

“ Will you answer my questions?”

“ Yes, yes.”

“Good; you know what I asked you?”

“ I came to kill you.”

“Who sent you?”

“The friends of Little Prophet.”

“Were you incited by Pontiac?”

fl Yes. ,7

“ You expect me to swallow this, my dear
J uesl” , ‘

“ am telling you the truth.”

“Oh no; you are lying to me. I am not so
easily deceived as not to know that an Indian
never sent this.” ‘

He ‘held up ther‘pap‘e’r, on which was written -

“)A.A
, L

 

 

 

The \Young Trailer. '1

 

 ‘. ' ~ 1‘ um“:

 

   

ib‘.

 

the last warning of the Circle of Vengeance.
‘ The man cowed at the sight, and a look of fear
passed over his face.
l “What does ‘ C. of V.’ mean?” demanded the
 youn man.
3 “ ow should I know?”

“Go ahead, Ketadin," said Edward.

man isl‘determined to die."

Again he felt the knife-point applied to his
naked flesh, and shi'ieked in terror.

“ I will tell, I will reveal all, and take the
consequences."

“You have decided wisely young man. Re-
lease him, Ketadin, but, by heaven, if he balks
again he is a dead man. ’

“ Will gen promise me, if I reveal all, and
leave the rder of which I am a member, that I
shall go free?”

“'If your revelation is of suflicient importance
to Justify it, I promise not to appear against
you for your art in this affair.”

“ Let us un erstand one another perfectly. I
can reveal the secrets of an Order, handed to-
gether for the express purpose of exterminating
the English resxdents and garrison at every
pomt from PreEue Isle to Michilimackinac.

Vould that be s cient to free me?”

:: I: vgould."

11 you promise, if I do this, upon your
hogtirdnog to let me sufler?”
o

“ This

“ Then there is my hand, and I will reveal
everything.”

‘At this moment a masked face rose to a level
With the window, and peered curiously in
through the half-closed shutters. Jacques Gril-
lon was lifted to a chair facing the window.
Ketadin and Edward stood in front, facing him,
the young scout seated, and the Indian standing
near with folded arms.

“You have promised to betray these villains,
and they deserve it,” said Edward. “ Go on.”

“ You must know—” began Grillon.

Just then a istol cracked, and Jacques Gril— 7

Ion, stricken t ough the breast by the ball, fell
forward upon his face. The ran to lift him,
and as they did so, a great gus of blood sprung
from his wounded breast, and a gray pallor, the
shadow of death, crept over his dar ace. Ko-
tndin swung o n the door and rushed out, but
no one could e seen. Edward su ported the
(fiying wretch upon his knee and 100 ed into his
ace.
“ Speak, if you can, and tell me who has done
, this murder.”

The man assayed to speak, but twice the
words died upon his lips. Edward bent close
and heard these disconnected words:

“ Circle of Vengeance —— beware — Entienne
Barbier—and Gaston Delisle.—ah 1"

He gave an. upward, convulsive spring, a
great gush of blood flowed from his wounded
breast, and his soul had fled.

“ This is horrible,” said Edward, as he laid the
body down. “ Ketadin, did you see the mur-
dereri”

“ No, he had fled. The English have many
enemies in Detroit, who will open their doors to
cover such men as these."

“The man deserved his fate for, after all, he
came here to do murder, per ps two, at the

- \ ' - _ \ .

 

 

game 0 ball which was expected/ between 

 

 
  
  
    
 
     
  
 
 
  
  
    
   
  
     
   
 
 
 
 
 

biddin of the men by whom he has been slain.
Raise t 0 body and carry it into the kitchen”, ,

They took up the corpse and laid it on the
kitchen table, and Edward brought a white
sheet and covered it. By this time the alarm
had been given and the drums began to beat,
callini out the troops, for a pistol-s ot by night
in suc times as these was enough to startle the
garrison. Edward snatched up his cap, and,
accompanied b Ketadin, ran to tho major‘s
quarters to tell 'm the cause of the alarm, and
advise him to keep quiet about it. They found
Gladwyn half—dressed, just leaving his quarters
to ascertain the cause of the alarm, and inas
few words as ssible told him the story.

Gladwyn c led an orderly. _

“Goto Captain Rodgers and tell him that.
there is no cause for alarm.”

“ Yes, sir."

“ Order him in my name to Send the troops: -
back to their quarters, and let me have a guard: '
of ten of the rangers at once.” , ',

The orderly hurried away, while the major '
led the way to his priVate room.

“ I will go with you and examine this body“
when the guard amves,” said Gladwyn. “ There
they are.” ‘ I _

A measured tramp announced the coming of  ‘
the ard. The major, followed by Edward 7 ,
and is red friend, went down the street to "  -
Edward’s house. Leavingthe ard at the door‘ . 3 '
they entered. Once in the kite on and a lam _ ‘
lighted, all started back in horror. The :2
no longer covered the body; the throatbad been
cut, and a long dagger drivon into his heart,\
pinning upon his breast a paper upon which they -
read these words: ,1

“The Traitor. Jac ues Grillon. Thus the Oirclef
of Vengeance punighes a false one. Look and
tremble. 0- OF’V-" _' v

 

 

CHAPTER IX.

ran s'romt BREAKS.
THAT night, under cover of the darkness,
Ketadin stole out of the fort. with orders to ,
hurry down the coast toward Niagara, to meet
Lieutenant Cuyler and his men, already believed «
to be on their way to join the garrison. and who ‘
might thus be made to hasten their course'and
reach Detroit before the storm burst n n them.
Early in the mornin Edward might ave heed
seen passing to and ro among the traders, hunt ' N
ers and voyageurs, giving them orders in alo x
tone of voice. The day broke clear and clo ,
less, and the sun, when it rose, shone u n  .V
fields and happl dwallings. As the m sts fted .._

from the eert , the garrison saw that the river
was alive with canoes, coming from the eastern ,
shore. These canoes ap to contain onl _._.:
two or three warriors each, but the experien
eyes of the border-men noting how: heavin they “4
moved, and how low the§ sunk in the water, fl
suspected that many more ndians than could be \ i
seen lay upon the bottom of the light water.
craft.‘ \  I
The br/oad common behind. the fort soon was
crowded with Indian women and children. and
strong warriors, each wrapped in a lon b v
carefully held about their persons. 'mov

restless! :to and fro, apparently'eassrffor the

 

 

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l

 

to

tribes. The men, after sauntering about for
a While, would move carelessly toward the gate,
and' all were readily admitted. Ha‘d Gladwyn
gone mad, or was this a subtle scheme to entrap

. the warriors of the tribe?
* Pontiac had crossed in canoes from the eastern
‘ shore, and at the head of sixty chiefs of the vari-
us tribes blazing in barbarous finery, moved
down to the river-road. A historian of the time
gbiveg the following account of this terrible

an : '

“,At ten o’clock the great war-chief and his
treacherous followers reached the fort, and the
ateway was thronged with their savage faces.
11 were wrapped to the throat in their colored
blankets. Some were crested with hawk, eagle,

, or. raven plumes; others had shaved their heads,

leaving onl the fluttering scalp-lock on the

crown; while others, again, wore their long

black hair flowing loosely at their backs, or

wildly hanging about their brows like a lion’s

mane. Their bold, yet crafty features, their

cheeks besnieared with ocher and vermilion,
, white lead and soot, their keen, deep-set eyes
,5 , gleaming in their sockets, like those of a rattle-
i',  ' snake. gave them an aspect grim, uncouth and
' horrible. For the. most part they were tall,
*strong men, and all had a gait and bearing of
f,. peculiar stateIiuess."

At the right hand of Pontiac strode a man
about the same hight as himself, gaudy in bar-
f, barons ornaments, and painted in alternate bars
"A of ooher and Vermilion. This man’s hair was
" confined in a sort of head-dress of eagle-feathers,

~ and he seemed a fit leader for this terrible band.
As they crossed the gateway these savage chiefs
~ exchanged looks of hatred and surprise, for they

n' saw’ that their coming had been prepared for in
,a way they had not anticipated. On either hand
“ asthey passed through the gateway, the regular

arrison of the fort, about one hundred and
t irty in number, were drawn up in serried lines,
,, through which the chiefs must pass to reach the

‘ quarters of the council-house. Their arms and
accouterments glittered brightly in the sunrays,
and upon every face was a look of stern determi-
nation which boded ill for the Indians when the
.3 1e began. Passing through this line,
'Pon c saw other bodies of men, whom he had
greater reason to fear than even the regulai s.
, hose were the half-wild engages of the traders
4: ‘ and hangemron of the garrison, hunters, tra -
" pers and voyageurs—men who know all the trio s
:2'  (of Indian subtlety, and could fight them on their
" - own ground and in their own way. Pontiac
1 , noted. too, that Edward Gresham was passing
' ‘ to and fro among these men, Who were armed to
the teeth, whispering to this one, makin a sign
tothat, and apparently warning them to fully
, upon their ard. From time to‘time the tap of
-a drum, an a stern word of command could be

heard and Pontiac saw that his eat scheme
' for taking the English by surprise ad fallen to
the ground.
' Disappointed as he was, this able chief knew
well how to mask his chagrin under the screen
of Indian stoicisin, although some of the youn er
. chiefs murmured and exchanged glances of e-
: fiance with the citizens and so diery. "
They traversed the little town from end to end,
«and reached the doors of the council—house—a

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The Young Trailer.

10W wooden building upon the bank of the river.
Here they were received with great ceiumony
by Gladwyn and his oflicers, who were in uni-
form, and wore their weapons ostentatiously
displayed. Mats had been spread for the In—
dians, and all took their seats except Pontiac,
who stood up and asked Gladwyn why so many
of his young men were in the street, and armed.

“Surely, I could not do less in receiving this
great circle of mighty chiefs,” re lied Gladwyn
in a slightly sarcastic tone. T e great chie
glanced at him in a distrustful manner, and
then looked at a calico screen which crossed the
council-room at one end, which waved to and
fro at every passing breeze. After the for-
malities indispensable in such times as these,
Pontiac tooka wampum—belt in his hand and

rose, while Edward Gresham whispered a sen- ‘

tence in the ear of Gladw 11.

“What does the Trai er say so low that a.
great chief may not hear?” demanded Pontiac,
indi nantly.

“ e spoke in admiration of the great chief of
the gttawas,” replied Gladwyn. “ Let the chief
spea .

The decisive moment was near at hand. The
wampum-belt which Pontiac held was the me-
dium through which the fatal signal was to be
given which should doom to death every Eng-
lishman in Detroit. The wily savage com-
menced his speech by speakin of the long-con-
tinued friendship between the ndians and their
English brothers, and announced that they had
fhome. to smoke the pipe of peace with' the Eng-

15 .

“Here stand I, English Pontiac ” he cried,
“and I give this belt— extending the Wampum
in an inverted position.

This was the signal appointed.

Every blanket dropped, and disclosed a short ‘

rifle hidden beneath its folds!

Their muscles were stifl’ening for the leap
when Gladwyn waved his hand. The roll of the
drum and clash of steel succeeded; the calico
curtain was drawn up, disclosing forty rangers
com letely armed. glaring at the disa pointed
chie 5, With their long rifles ready. single
moment only the opposing bands stood laring
at each other. and then the unruffled Gfiidw
waved his hand again, and the curtain dropped
before the ambushed ran ers.

“ How is this, Pontiac? cried Gladwyn. “ Do
you come to me with rifles instead of wampum?”

The chief made no reply, for his eagle eye was
fixed upon the face of Edward Gresham, as he
sat by the side of the major, and he cried to him
in the Indian tongue:

“ You did this.

“You are right, traitor. I it was, and I am
gouder of this act than any I have ever done.

ou are trapped, with arms in your hands, and
what haVe you to expect?”

The only reply of the chief was to shake a
threatening finger at the speaker, and then he
turned to Gladwyn.
in no measured terms upbrai ed‘the chiefs for
their premeditated treachery. He assured them
that he would deal out ample vengeance ag inst
the tribes were the, attempt renewed, and e
them begone at once.

 

The ma “or now rose. and '

Gladwyn is apex; to censure for this act, but

 

 

 

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i

meg.

. 4‘  , , \ ‘ - -_ .,,‘ F‘.‘
_ k} . “L A 4,  ._ ;\ .e—p: ‘ ,. ’ huts. ,2...~:}-.

 

The Young Trailer.

 

 

he did it for the best. It was in his power to de-
'tain the party as hostages for the good conduct
of their warriors, and perhaps if he had done so
.all might have been well, and much bloodshed
been spa-red. But he regarded it as one of the
customary Indian outbreaks, easily suppressed,
and did not do justice to the abilities of the
chief who led them. Without another word,
Pontiac gathered his men about him and depart-
ed, taking with him every Indian who had pene-
trated the fort.

There was little rest in Detroit that night.
Early on the mornin following Rose St. Aubin,
with the other Frenc settlers, attended mass at
their church. Returning, she saw that the In-
dians were gathering in great numbers, and
Pontiac advanced to the fort and demanded ad-
mittance. He was told by Gladwyn, who ap-
peared upon the rampart, that he might enter it

e chose, but that the great band he had brought
with him must remain outside.

“We have come to smoke the calumet with
our white brothers: all the warriors would drink
in the friendship of the English.”

“ You alone can enter,” replied Gladwyn.

The chief gave him a glance of defiance, and
turmng on his heel, gave a signal whoop. At
that sound the warriors rose as one man. with
yells which curdled the blood of the listeners,
and ran half-frantic with passion through the
Village. Woe to the English who were so un-
fortunate as to be outside the fort in that terri-
ble hour! Their doors were beaten in, one after
another, and not one was left to tell the story.
Pontiac’s plans had been well laid, and with the
single exception of Detroit, all the upper and
lower forts fell into the net. And, but for the
part .which Edward Gresham had taken in
this siege, this important post would have fallen
a so. ,

The white garrison, helpless, looked on and
saw the victims dragged from their houses, im-
paled upon knife-points, soalped, and left to rot
upon the earth, until buried by the French
Canadians, most of whom had no art in this
wild butche _ . Luckily, but few nglish peo-
ple lived wit out the walls, and these Were cut
off at once, while the terrified Canadians looked
on, fearful of iving aid—only the brothers of
the Circle of engeance viewing the bloody
work With joyful eyes.

_Pontiac took no part in the slau hter, neither
did he make any eflort to restrain is men other
than givmg them ‘a stern command to beware
that not a hair of a Frenchman’s head was
touched. While the work of destruction went
on, he be an movm the Indian camps from the
eastern 3 do of the river, and before many hours
Detrmt was in a state of siege. Gladwyn, look-
111E from his ramparts, saw the motley host by
w ich he was girdled, and while he maintained
a bold front, he was not without fear that they
would storm the work, and win it by sheer force
of numbers.

Edward, standing upon the ramparts when
the fierce devils were let loose, saw three men
steal up the walk to St. Aubin’s house. They
flung open the door without ceremony, and two
of them remained outside while the third en—
tered. Even at that distance, Edward recog-

' , aired him as the strange chief who had marched

l _ r

 

 

by Pontiac’s side when he came upon his treach- ‘ -
erous errand, so ably foiled by Gladwyn. What f 7,?
did this man seek in the house of St. Aubin—a \ '
man known to be a general favorite amen the
Indians? Surely no harm was intended to 059. .v
The young man was frantic with fear, and only r
his strong sense of duty enabled him to kee . , :
from leaving the fort and hastening to the ai ‘ ' 
of the woman he loved so well. He saw ti e two, :
Indians in front leave the door and go to the,
back of the house, but just then the voice of ,
Gladwyn called him. \,‘ i i
“I need your aid, Mr. Gresham. Do you “ '-
think it possible that we are in any danger from
these inside the walls?” I
“It is possible that many of them, need
watching, sir. None of us will take much
rest, it‘ we save Detroit from these black-hearted
fiends.” ,
“Your e es are better than mine, Mr. * '_
Gresham. an you make out where those - ‘~
canoes are going?” . , ’ «
“They are after or Fisher, the sergeant“
who lives on Isle au ‘ochon. I am afraid there ' .
is no hope for him.” 1
“Oh, that treacherous Pontiac! Would to - ,
God I had shot him down when first his guilt
was laid bare before me! Do you think Cuylef‘, ._
is in danger?” . _ , ,-
“I do not doubt it. Yonder Ind 11 is an ,
able leader and 1 shall be surprisede: man; '
of the outlying forts do not fall before h ‘
wiles. All of them cannot be as lucky as we are, x.
and you will excuse me if I say that the men . y ‘
of the, 60th are not like the rangers, or even my, v ‘

en. . ,

“Will Ketadin be in time to warn Cuylel‘?” 

“ I fear not.” \

No more was said, and Gladwyn paced to and ;
fro uneasily, looking down upon the savage host
which hemmed them in on every side. Just then
he was called to the water-gate, where a canoe
had landed, containing two Frenchmen, who
brought the sad news that two brave omoers. v
Sir Robert Davers and Captain Robertson, had
fallen into an ambush above St. Clair nd were
slain, and that the band which did th deed, a. . ,
large portion of the Ojibway nation,.had al-
ready joined Pontiac. ‘, ‘ , w

As night came on, Edward had an interview ~
with Gladwyn, and obtained leave to go outand '
scout through the camp of the Indians. Confl-,~
dent in his scout’s ability, Glad lyet hesi—
tated to let him go; but, permission being , -
given, Edward went to his own house to prev. ,
pare for his expedition. Half an hour after, a. ,
stalwart savage, (painted for war, stole throu h)
the streets towar the water-gate, attended y _
Ma'or Gladwyn. . I ,‘ .,

he soldiers on duty were With dimoulty re- ,
strained from killing him so perfect was his,‘
disguise. At the water-gate he found a canoe ,
and pushed out into the darkness, warned by,
the Indian camp-fires not to a preach too near. _
Once in the current, he ma e no attempt to
work the paddle except to kee the head of the:
canoe straight, and floated own betweenthe.
island and the camp. He heard the flend'like'
veils, saw the wild fl ureslleapmg about the
fires, and knew that he Win-dance was calm
menced, and that he could not choose a better

/ . ,» .' v:

  
     
 
    
   
 
 
  
    
   
 
  
 
    
  
 
   
 

 

   

 

  
   

w.

 

 

 

\ The ' Young Trailer. } ‘

 

time to land. Pushing his canoe closeto the
bank, he stepped ashore and had hardly gone
a dozen yards when he found himself in the
midst of a strong party of savages, whom he
knew to be Ojibways, by their dress and paint.
“ Who is this?" said the foremost man, laying
a hand upon the handle of his hatchet. ‘Do
you come to drink the blood of the English i”
“ Yes,” replied Gresham. “ My face is painted
for war.”
‘ “Has my brother struck the war-post?” de-
, manded the Indian. “ Does he hate these White
English dogs, and is he ready to put them to the
knife?”
“ I drink their blood like water,” replied

" ' Gresham. “ They shall die like dogs.”
_ Thinkin that he had found a savage who was
‘ more blo thirsty than himself, the Indian said

no more, but moved by the side of the new-
comer to the camp-fire. Luckily for him, there
were few Wyandots or Ottawas in this group,

I composed mainly of the Ojibways, a wild tribe,
who knew but little of the White men, while
hating them intensely. Gresham sat down in
the circle, and noticed every thing said, satisfy-
ing himself that the Indians designed to make
_ an attack upon the fort at,early morning.

‘ Soon after, he managed to detach himself

 I ', from the group, and passed on until he reached

the center of the town which was alive with
Indians, movin restlesslyto and fro, eager for
the morning. ut few Frenchmen were in the
, 4 street, and among these he recognized Entienne

 ~ ’ Barbier, who was talking earnestly with Pon-

fltiac b —a fire.

“A , my lad,” thought Gresham. “ you are

» in. this, it seems.” ’

' Edward walked coolly up and down, and at
last a proached the fire. near which Pontiac
and e Frenchman stood, and edging close to

‘ them, heard enough of their conversation to
convince him that Barbier wasa traitor, and

r had urged on the Indians to this outbreak. His

I; , , flu ers itched to be at the traitor’s throat and

 
  
 
 
  
  
     
   
 

 

r sps something in his attitude showed it for
ontiac, turn' his head, saw him, and making
'a signal to the renchman to remain where he
was, he quietly approached the disguised scout
and laid his hand upon his naked arm.
“ What tribe, my brother?” he said, in a
questioning tone.
. “Ojibway ” replied Edward, imitating the
uncouth dialect of the tribe he intended to re-
sent. He had taken the precaution, upon
ving the fort, to wear the moccasins of that
tribe, with their totem worked in beads upon

, the top.
, “ My brother has a brave look,” said Pontiac,
, “and it is strange that so eat a Warrior
should not sit in the councils of is nation. Let
him come with me to the camp of the Ojibways,
and his chief shall speak of him. Pontiac must
be certain that he has no traitors in his camp.”
,“ It is well,” replied Edward. but it was far

 (from well in his opinion. He began to fear that

he had got himself into a trap, and quickly re-
volved in his mind some way of esca e. Pontiac
waited quietly until Edward ' e to him to
"lead the way, and then followe him through
the street. Once out of the circle of the camp-
fire he took a quick step. a rapid blow was

.11.

 

».\

 

 

 v . t1"‘i3z‘¥-€7\‘w .3» "

struck, and Pontiac lay senseless on the earth,
while, leaping over his body, Edward Gresham
ran for his life. ‘

CHAPTER X.
WILD MADGE’S DAGGER.

PONTIAC bounded to his feet, fierce and
ragin , and his terrible war- cry rung out with
startling distinctness, warning the braves to be
on the alert and calling sovoral of his own band
to his side. A few hurried words sent them
scampering through the village, in hot pursuit
of the man who had dared to insult their real:
chief, while he joined in the chase, wild wit an-
ger, his fiery eyes half starting from his head.

Edward heard them on all sides of him, chal-
lenging every passin Indian, and he feared
that he was in the toi s, but the brave man did
not despair. He lea ed over the fence which led
to the house of St. ubin and hurried u to the
door, while the clamor of the pursuing udians
grew fierce all about him. There was no time
to hesitate, and throwing o n the door, he ran
in, closing it behind him. s he did so, he was
conscious that the room was dimly li hted, and
seated close to the hearth, bound ban and foot,
was St. Aubin, moodin lookinglinto the flames.
He cast a hurried glance at t e intruder, and
then a look of sullen rage crossed his face.

“ You shall suffer for this, do 8 of Indians,”
he cried, fiercely. “Wait until ontiac knows
how I have been treated. Give me back my
dau hter, you red fiend; give her back to me.”

“ osel” cried Edward. “Oh, my God! do
not tell me that she is lost 1”

“ Who are you?” cried the trader. “ Edward
Gresham, and in this disguise?”

“ N 0 other; speak to me, tell me what you
mean by saying that you had lost Rose.”

“ Oh, m darling, my beautiful flower! Bet- '

ter have er dead than in the hands of this
murderous band. This afternoon, when the at-
tack was made, three Indians rushed in upon us,
bound and gagged me. and carried her away
toward the river. The leader was the chief who
walked by the side of Pontiac when they made
their treacherous visit to the fort.”

“ Which way did they go?”

“Through the back door and out by the or-
chard gates. Edward Gresham, as you love my
daughter save her from those treacherous
hounds.”

Edward cut the cords which bound the trader
to the chair, and just then the clamor grew
fierce about the house.

“ What is this?" said the trader.

“I am pursued by the Indians. Hide me, if
you value the life of your daughter.”

“This way,” replied St. Aubin?1eading the

way into the cellar. “ I will save you.”
v He can ht up a burning brand to 1i ht the
way and escended rapidly. St. Aubin etach-
ed a stone or two from the rough _wall or the
cellar and showed a wide cavity behind, capable
of hiding half a dozen persons.

“ That was built to guard against Indian sur-
prises of this kind,” he said. “ You will go in,
and remain quiet until I call for you.”

He replaced the stone and hurried back into '

the kitchen. for the savages were already
clamoring at the door, and Just as he closed as

/

 

 

 

 

 

The Young Tunes.

   

 

cellar they were thrown open, and Pontiac
strode in, his face illuminated by the fires of
passion. while fierce faces appeared at the door-
ways.

“' here is the dog who dared insult the great
Pontiac?” he cried, angrily.

“ What do you mean, chief?” replied St.
Aubin. “If you seek my life, take it, for it is
in your hands.”

‘ No,” replied Pontiac. “ I do not seek your
life. I am the same French Pontiac who fought
for Frenchmen in the old wars when the Ojib-
ways and Kioways would have destroyed
them. But, a man insulted Pontiac and struck
him to the earth, and I have tracked him here.’

“ How should know anything of this,
Pontiac,",repl.ied St. Aubin. “I have enough
sorrow not to notice every Indian who runs
yelping through the street.”

‘ Are my brother’s doors
ran in here, and is hidden.”

“ Then let Pontiac search for him,” said St.
Aubin. “ Bid your warriors stand at the doors,
to seg that he does not run out, and I will lead
you.

Pontiac bowed his head, and at a low, guttural
order from him the braves drew back, and light—
ing a lamp, St. Aubin led the way into the cel-
lar. . He went down With as great a clatter as
poss1ble, and Edward, taking the hint, lay quiet,
scarcely breathing for fear the keen sense of
hearing of the Indian might detect him. The
chief cast a searchin glance about the room,
satisfied himself that t 9 man he sought was not
there, and St. Aubin led the way to the upper
part of the house. They searched with like suc-
cess, of course, and the face of Pontiac began to
take on a crestfallen look. v

“ My brother was right,” he said. “The man

v who insulted Pontiac is not here, but he shall be

found, if he hides in the lowest depths of the
.  Where is Bright Star, whom the Indians
ove

“You have made loud professions of regard
for me, Pontiac, and now want you to make
them ood. This very day some of your men
have 8 Ion my daughter and carried her away.”

“M brother cannot lie, and yet is it ossi is
that ontiac’s men have done this? ive me
their names and I will punish them.”

“I do not know their names, but the leader
was the chief who walked by your side when you
went to the fort.”

Pontiac gave utterance to an angry exclama-
tion and his fingers fiercely clutched the handle

, of his hatchet. ’ ‘

“Do you tell me that this man has dared to
do this?’ i

H  has. 1’ .

“ Then I tell you that she shall be restored to
on, or he shall die. Pontiac does not lie when
e says that his heart is warm toward the good

trader and Bright Star. Tell me about it.”

St. Aubin told the whole story, and was inter-
rupted now and then by a fierce eiaculation
from the chief. When the trader had finished,
Pontiac repeated his promise to save Rose, and
strode hastily away.

“ Where is the Red Lightnin now?” he cried
,addressing one of the men. he fellow could

not tell, but just. then a hasty step was heard,

open? Perhaps he

  
   
  

 

, 1/ a

a

and the chief who had entered Detroit by his l ,
side, and was accused of stealing Rose away, I, ' 
strode hastily up, looking dust-worn and weary, ‘
but with a certain light of elation in his eyes.

“ I have brought good news, sachem,” he said. _ ,.
“ Runners have met me who have made my A“;
heart glad.” V

“ Come with me,” replied Pontiac. ‘

The chief followed him without a word. and V - ,
they reached a secluded spot beside the river. _ ~ ~ ~ 5

“What is your news?” demanded Pontiac ~
speaking in French, to which the other replied
in the same languages. -

“ It could not 0 tter. Michilimackinac has . , r:
fallen, and before this Presque Isle is in our " ' '
hands.” r '

“ Good ” said Pontiac. “ And now hear me
speak. hen we went out n n the war-path
together, I told you that 1 coul not strike against '
Frenchmen. Is it not so?” *

“ Of course: that was the a eement.”

“ Then what mean you, R Lightning—mow
did you dare to strike at the good trader and the
Bright Starf’ \

Red Lightning started and looked fixedly at
Pontiac. .

“ What have I to do with this?” I

“Do not come to Pontiac with a forked"
ton a, Red Li htning. You came to the house
of t e cod tra er; you tied him like a dog, and'
stopp his mouth. The good trader Is my ,
friend, and his child is my friend, and I have "
said that no harm shall come to them. Where“ i
is the Bright Star?" , i

on. The Bright

 

   
 

“Pontiac, it is nothin to
Stags in my hands, and wil keep her."
al .
“ I joined you to avenge myself upon the Eng?
lish, who have done me,wrong, but I made no
promise to fiye up my own private revenges;

neither will 7 ..
yourself to Pontiac?

       
  
  

“ Do you dare oppose .
Look about you and consider well, Red Light- ‘
ning. At a word from me, the fire of death will‘ 7 ,
sweep through the village, and none shall be '
spared, not one.” » ‘

“You dare not do that.” '

“ No, Pontiac dare not do wrong. He hates
the English, and has struck at them, for they
are his enemies, but he still loves his friends.
Give back the Bri ht Star to her father.”

“Iwillnptdoi ” ‘ " .

“ Then you make an enemy of Pontiac, for I
have romised that I would save her.” , ' ,

“ ho told you that I took her away?”

“The good trader.” r '

“A thousand curses on his head! Look on, ,.
chief ; we have no right to quarrel, for we ave"
embarked together in the great cause of swee _ ..
ing these English dogs from the land. I will  V
no wrong to the Bright Star, as you call Rose , K
St. Aubin, for I will make her my true wife as
soon as I can find a priest to do the work.” ‘

“ Does my brother speak the truth?” _ f

“ Upon my honor. Leave the girl with may
and let us not usrrel until our work is domain, ,
Detroit. The ‘least thing will overthrow our

Jam, and we can not afford to be at variance.
f 've you my word not to do her a wrong, but.
01% to keep her safely until Detron; shall - ,
Ia . . s ' . '

 

 

:‘1.‘;.

  
  
 

.24

The, Young Trailer.

 

“ Give her to me to keep.”
“ I will not do that, chief. I want her near
‘ me while the fight goes on, to win her to my
plans. and I cannot give her up.”
“What if I call my warriors and take you?
The Indians have many ways to drag the secrets
from an evil heart.”

“ You cannot frighten me, Pontiac. I swear

, to you that I will not give up the secret of her

1 said.

hiding-place, even to you.”

“ Let it beasyou say,” said Pontiac, suddenly.
“Keep the Bright Star safe, and do her no
harm, for as surely as you do, I will kill you
with my hand.”

“E‘eru have my promise,” replied the other.

“ Have you seen my Willie anywhere?” said a
clear, sweet voice. “ I am looking for him
everywhere, and cannot find him.”

Both turned quickly, and by the light of the
moon'riding high in the heavens, saw the unfor-
tunate victim of man’s crime, Madge Sinclair,
standin close to them and looking fixedly upon
them. ' he was better dressed than when we

r - saw her last, for the kind-hearted Rose had taken

from her own wardrobe to dress her. The dark,
fathomless eyes showed no fear, and Pontiac,
who knew her well and the cause of her afllic-
tion, looked sadly and pityingly upon her, al—
though one of the accursed race.

, “ The woman of the woods has a sad life,” he
“ Let her go to the shelter of a lodge, lest
some one who does not know her should do her
a wrong.”

“ Oil?!” shouted Red Lightning, looking wildly
at her. “ Do not turn' our accusing eyes upon

,me for I cannot hear t em."

fiadge turned upon him with the quickness of
a panther, her eyes flashing fire.

" You, you! ha! hal ha! Have I found you
at last under a red skin? Your hands were red-
der once!”

“ Take her away or I shall do her a mischief,”
said Red Lightning, hoarsely, making frantic

. signals.
/ I ‘Tell me where to find my Willie. No one
home better than you.”
7 , f‘Icannot.”

"‘ Will you die with a lie in your mouth?
You, know where he is, and must give him up to
me. ,

She advanced upon him with that wild look in

1 her eyes, and he retreated step by step, with his

1 0h. Heaven! was it for

fascinated eyes fixed u on her face, the face of
the infured wife of _Wi lie Sinclair.

“ A l the fiends of the pit could not frighten
me half so much. Pontiac, come between us, or
I shall strike her. ”

“ Lift no hand against the Woman of the
Woods, for the Manitou has laid his hand heav-
ily upon her. Let Pontiac show you to a lodge
where you will be safe.”

“‘No, no, no! How shall I ever find Willie
if he escapes? Tell me where he is, and at

‘* .yoneel’,’

Pontiac laid his hand upon her arm, butshe
shook him off angrily.
‘ “Tell 'me quickly!”
' “Iknow nothing of Kgur husband, witch!
t ' creature that I lost

1,

my soul?”

 

 

“ Show me where he is!”

“I tell you I shall strike her, Pontiac,” cried
Red Lightning, still retreating, “ it you do not
take her away.” .

“Come, poor child; an Indian never wrongs
one who talks to the spirits of the rocks and
trees.”

She shook off his hand again, and advanced
hastily.

“ Tell me I”

Red Lightning struck at her with his clinched
hand, but in an instant, the dagger with which
Willie Sinclair’s life was taken flashed in the
air. She struck full and true at his unguarded
breast. What could save him now?

CHAPTER XI.
THE woon CAMP.

WE left Edward Gresham lying hidden in the
depths of the cellar waiting for the Indians to
leave the house. Half an hour passed; then St.
Aubin came down removed the stones and set
hlilmfat liberty, telling him the promise of the
c 1e .

“Then you can do nd upon his word,” said
Edward. “I know ontiac and something of
his plans and they do not include evil against
the French. It is only we who have the blood
of old England in our veins who have anything
to fear from him. I must get back to the fort
for nothing can be done to-night. Look out and
tell me whether any Indians are lurking near."

St. Aubin peeped out cautiously and an-
nounced the coast clear, and after reiterating
his promise to save Rose at any hazard, the
young man pushed open the door and went out,
turning at once toward the river. In the pre-
sent state of the camp it was impossible to pass

 

through it, and he preferred to take his chance,

of finding a canoe and by that means reaching
the water gate. He found a canoe readil ,
reached the gate, and was admitted, when 6
at once went to the major and made his report,
also announcing the capture of Rose St. Aubin.

“ Take courage, my brave fellow,” said
Gladwyn. “ Fiends as they are, I hardly think
they dare make enemies of the French settlers
by doing her an injury. as she is such a favorite
everywhere. Pontiac, after giving his promise
would not permit it to be done.”

“. You are right, no doubt," said Edward sad-
ly; “ and Iyet, it drives me almost mad to think
pow ,utter y helpless I am to aid the woman I

ove.

“ I know it, my dear lad, but bear it like a
man. And now good-night, for I must to the
ram arts, to make ready for the assault.”

E ward went slowly and sadly to his house,
and unlocked the front door, turning the key on
the inside as he closed it again. e passed
through the kitchen, tried the lock of the door
to see that it was fast, and turned to acupboard
to find alight, when a blanket was thrown sud-
denlv over his head, hampering his arms and
muflling his face so that it was impossible to
make an outcry.

“ Silence,” hissed a voice close to his ear, “ or
I will drive a knife into your heart. Find a
li ht, Number Three.”

he lamp was found and lighted, and then ' V

the ruflians ‘who had seized him turned him

 

 

New?“

 

 

-.> . .
.,,h

at; an;   .

 

 

over and tied his hands and feet securely, while
another thrust a gag into his mouth. I

“We have him fast,” said one of the three.
“Brothers, it seems foolish to waste time and
risk danger by taking this man outside, but the
orders of the Grand Commander must be
ohe ed."

ward signified a. desireto speak, but he was
sternly ordered to keep quiet. He saw at a
glance that he was in the hands of the dread
rotherhood known as the Circle of Vengeance.
These men were all masked and dressed in black
clothing, so much alike that nothing could be
told concernin their figures.

“ You have efled the Circle of Vengeance,”
said the one who appeared to be the leader, in
excellent French, ‘ and you may see the result.
You were warned but you would not listen to
the call of reason, and for your stubborn con-
duct you are to die.”

Edward could make no answer, but he looked
intently at the speaker, as he stood above him.

“It would doubtless be a leasure to know
how you were taken. We wi 1 inform you that
we took out a window sash and got in, and re—
placed the sash after it. We have had towait
some time, but the time passed pleasantly, as
you keep good wine in your cupboard.”

The man appeared to like the sound of his
own voice, for he went on, regardless of the fact
that his prisoner could not answer him.

“ You did a bad thing when on forced us to
Estify our erring brother, t e other ni ht.

e was a faithful member until you led im
astr .

“ Hush,” said another of the men; “ how long
do you intend to stand there and preach? Let
us get to work."

‘ You appeartothink you are leader here,
Antoine.”

“Take care: Number Three 1”

“ Paste I Unlock the door and let us get away,
for, as we intend to justify him, it makes no dif-
ference if he does know us.”

Edward Gresham did know them. A man
who had been taught to make mo of every clew,
to remember every thin , would not long be at
aloss in placing the tal ative Frenchman. and
he knew that this was Claude Benoit, a com-
rade of Entieune Barbier. The men hurriedly
envelo the victim in a blanket, and passed
throng the kitchen door when one of them
Went ahead to see that all was ri ht. His report
was‘tavorahle and they hurrie On to the next
house, which they entered just before the guard
relief passed on its we to the different posts.
They carried the boun man into the cellar, and
laid him down, blindfolding him completely,
while he heard the creaking of a door upon its
hinges and he was again lifted, and carried
througllli a damp passage for some distance.
Then e was carried up some steps, and came
into the open air, an the ripple of running
water convinced him that he was near the river.

“ Put him into the canoe," whispered Claude.
“ Get in, you two; I'll take the paddle.”

He was laid in a canoe, and was seen gliding
ta dly along the stream—how far he could not
tel , but he knew that they had some way of
getting out of the fort unknown to him. For
an hour the canoe glided swiftly on, and then he

\ I ’0“! r
I

 

felt the prow grate upon the sand,'and Claude
gave a signal whistle. It was answered at 
once, and a number of men joined them. upon "
the bank. \ ' V
“ Have you trapped‘the fox?” 7, x
“Of course; my lan could not fail.” .f
“ Eh him! You ave a wonderful opinion ‘of
yourself, Monsieur le Babbler. Never mind, we
have him at last and that is enough for us.
Are ‘ylou going back at once?” V '. '
“ 6 must; but it was known that we had“
left the fort we might be suspected, you know.” _ ,,
“ Ban soir, then; take care of yourselves.” I ,:
Edward heard the canoe push off, and then « 
the bonds upon his feet were cut, and he was i .
hurried along over a. rough forest path for over a“;
half an hour. At the end of that time he was ,i'
conscious that merry voices Were ringin out,
ahead, and, directly after, his hands were and; :;
loosed, and the bandage taken from his eyes. A "I
strange light greeted 's astonished gaze. *
He was in an irregular openingin ,the forest,
completely hemmed in by forest trees; About "‘
thirty men were in the inclosed space, seated '
about their fires, drinking, playing at cards and:
singing songs. They were a l dressed in the V
black uniform of the Circle of Van canoe, and:
closely masked, and the keen eyes 0 the Trailer-A.
roved from side to side, trying to make out who“ »_
among his masked enemies he could reco'gnizéw
A great shout greeted his ap arance; cards and. \
diets-Were thrown aside, an all stood up to look
a 1m. ’ v
“ Whom have we now?” cried a loud voice. \ "
“One of the doomed,” replied the man who;
led Ed ward. . 
“ Has he been warned?” .
“ He has been warned thrice.”
“ Would he not heed the warning?” . .
“ He has defied the Great Brotherhood.” _ ,v
“ It is well; his name is written in red,
Brethren, form the m stic circle.” , 
The men linked the 1' hands together, and‘be-
,gémlto circle slow] 8.13031: thlel imdmovable 1
"o t e, prisoner, w osa coo y ownu a 
and looked at them with a quiet mi? 8%
denly the circle parted, and the figure of the
Grand Commandant appeared, facing the pria-’
oner. ‘
“ What mummery is this?” demanded Edward.
“My dear fellows, a man who has stood g the
stake while a village of Wyandots danced 1‘.
him, is not likely to be frightened by black looks
and black clothes.” \ V r ' ;
“ Silence, scofferl” cried the G d Command-
ant. “ When you‘dely the Great rotherh
you know not what you do.” ‘ ~
“ Bah! What do I care for your formulahi
If you mean to do anything With me, set about
it as uickly as you can. and the quicker you do
it the etter I shall like it.” . - * ’ x
“ You will not think so when the Brotherhood
begin the torture. An Ind a
pain to the body, but we can do better I ‘ V
that. We can make on feel the tortnma v,
the damned in body an mind. And, to begin, 3"
bring in the other! ’ ' .2 
There was a movement. in the circle ends
party appeared leading in their midst Rose

 

 

     
   
    
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
    
  
    

 

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Aubln, Verypa e, but unalterably-flxed' m pure

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“fr/gun, _ in 1",, tiger

f - ,; “9‘43 ..p_ .14.. Adam“,

«was.» A

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. _. mm".

26

The Young Trailer.

 

‘ “ Rose my :- girl, my ale darling,”
\ moaned Edw , “ are you hereig
“ Oh, Edward, have you, too, falien into the
hands of these Villains?
“Good words, mistress, if you please,” said
the Grand Commandant. “ I am not a man to

. hear insult offered to the Brotherhood. Look

upon ‘ her, Edward Gresham. You are young,
and life is very pleasant, and you have laid out
for yourself a future in which this girl forms a
part. I love her better than you do, but there
are certain conditions upon which I will give
her u to you."

“ ou mock me, sir. It you love her as you
say, there are no conditions under which you
would give her up.”

“ There are. ”

“ Name them.”

“ You are in the confidence of the English
major, Gladwyn?”

“ I am proud to say that I am, and tohave
emed his good opinion is something to be proud
of, for he is a nob e man.”

“Very well; you have
the scouts, Voyageurs and

“ I have.”

“ Without them Gladwyn could not sustain a
combined assault for an hour?” ‘

“ I do not say whether he could or not, but we

reat influence with
appers in Detroit?”

" will admit the Supposition.”

“ I earnestly desrre that Detroit shall speedily
. fall,- and have been working for this object since
the English occupancy. Let me ask you another
uestion. Are these scouts, etc., favorable to

e English i”
, “ If you had come into the fort when Pontiac
made his treacherous view, you would not have

' asked the question.”

“But there are many in Detroit who do not
love the English. ”
“ Perhaps; I do not know. But all this is use-

_ less; I do not intend to give you the information

you desire.”
Q‘ferhaps I can make it worth your while,

The e esof Gresham began toblam, but he
said not 'ng.

“I have said that there are conditions by
which you can not only be' free in an hour’s
time, but Rose St. Aubin shall also be set at
liberty. I love her dearly, and would not give
up her love for any other price, but the strength
and glory of France is more to me than the love
of any woman can ever be. Think before , on

, refuse my offer, and by it doom herto 9. ate

Which would make the stoutest man tremble."

“ Let her go away, wretch. Why do you
keep her here to torture her? We can talk With-
out havin her standing by.”

“I wo d rather stay, dear Edward,” said

“ Go on. sir,” said Edward.

“This is my plan. You will return tothe
fort and at once begin your work among the
hunters and scouts. to win them over toour
side. Say to them that the service of the king
of France pays better than that of England,
and we will do anything for them when the post

' is a sin in on!“ hands.”

“ n
,. on.
“When you «have won them over, signal the

 

 

fact from the walls of the fort by walking upon
the eastern battlement with a white bandker~
chief tied upjon your hat. Do this, and not only
shall Rose 8 yours, but you shall have a cap
tain’s commission in the French service.”

“ Anything more 3”

“ When you are ready, give us the signal, and
Wait until We answer 1t. Then at night open
the sally-port, and we shall be ready to enter,
and then woe to Detroit.”

“ Is that all?”

“ Yes; your answer."

The young scout sprung to his feet, and dealt
the tempter such a blow that he rolled in the
dust at his feet, the blood startin from mouth
and nostrils under the heavy stro e.

“ Take that for offering an unprovoked insult
to an Englishman born, you vile renegade l” he
shouted.

Rose uttered a faint cry of alarm, although
she could not but exult in t e gallant conduct of
her lover, who, by that blow delivered in the
midst of enemies, proved himself a gallant man
and true to his country and flag. The Gran
Commandant lay stunned and dizzy upon the
earth, while a dozen of his men ran to raise
him, and a threatening crowd surrounded Ed-
ward. Seizing a heav half—consumed brand
from the camp-fire, he ung himself desperately
upon them. Right and left they Went down
under his crushing strokes: then, stopping sud-
denly, he caught a loaded pistol from the man
he had knocked down first, and aspin the
Grand Commandant by the collar, aggecf him
to his feet, with the pistol at his ear.

“ Move a step stir a finger, and you are
dead!” be his . “ Back, all of you and do
not dare to lift a weapon, for. as surely as you
do. the man I hold is dead. Rose, come to in
side: I will protect you, and they dare not fire! ’

CHAPTER XII.
TEE DEATH-ARROW.

THE disappearance of Edward Gresham from
Detroit was only known when, at four o’clock,
one of his sergeants came to call him to the
wall, in anticipation of the attack of the In-
dians. They found the house open, the room in
disorder, and the evidences of a struggle every-
where apparent. Knowing him so well, Major
Gladwyn was certain that some calamity had
befallen him.

Gladwyn had been upon the walls all night,
and as the first gray light of the morning he-
gan to show itself, be cou d see. the dusky figures
of the warriors movmgrabout 1n the gloom pre-
paring for the work. be men came silen 1y to
their uarters Without beat of drum, for they
knew hat on the first struggle their fate de<
pended.

The cannon were in position, loaded to the
muzzle, some with grape and canister, and others
with nails, scraps of iron and the like.
knew better than Gladwyn the wholesome dread
which the savages have of the “ big guns.” v

Suddenly, as all Indian attacks do. the assault
was commenced. A furious ell announced the
onset, and the bullets began patter like rain
against the stockade, while the women and chil-
gtien sought safety in cellars from the leaden

rm.

 

i.

 

No man‘

he voyageurs and hunters gave back

cashew

 

 

The Young Trailer. 

 

    

i so 

 

an answering shout. not less loud and fierce
than that of the assailants as they sprung to the
loop-holes. The Indians were all about them,
firing rapidly, some hidden b trees and low
ridges, some dancing wildly a out, keeping in
continual motion to bathe the aim of the hun-
ters. But, the dead] rifles of the bordermen
had been used to sti'i e the buck upon the leap,
and many a savage went down.

Gladw n trained his guns where the Indians
appeare thickest, and the glrape and canister
went searching through the t ickets, driving the
painted demons from place to laCe. But, in
spite of this, the returned tot eassault, and
woe to the man w o dared show his head above
the ramparts, for he was made the mark for a
score of bullets. Pontiac, knowing the temper of
his men, dared not order them to make a regular
assault qun the fortifications. His plan was
rather to arass the enemy, by a long-continued
siege, to cut of! their suplilies, to overthrow in
detail every force sent to t eir aid, and ultimate-
ly to force them to/ surrender.

Where was Madge Sinclair?

We left her with her hand sus nded over the
breast of Red Lightning, the estroyer of her
husband, for it is no part of our plan to conceal
the fact that the intuition of the madwoman
was right. She struck, and the blade pierced a
little way into the clothing of the chief, and
shiverod into fragments upon a steel corslet un-
derneath. The man laughed fiercely, and raised
his hand to strike her down, but Pontiac again
inter ed.

“ your ways, Red Lightning, and ask noth-
ing from Pontiac. But, bear this well in mind;
if a wrong is done to the Bright Star, I will seek
you out and kill you; go!”

Red Lightning only replied by a derisive ges-
ture, and turned away, leavin the chief and
Madge together. But, all the c ief’s powers of
persuasion would not revail upon her to stay;
she broke away from im and ursued the foot-
steps of the disguised chief. S e saw him takea
canoe and cross the stream, and, with the cun-
ning of the crazed brain she took another and
followed him.

Red Lightning landed at last, and still she fol—
lowed, creeping on with cautious tread.

Through the trackless forest, thinking only of
her quest, she pursued her tireless course, and
not an Indian on the war—trail could have vied
with her in lightness of tread. At last the camp-
fires of the Circle of Vengeance gleamed before
he . Lying prostrate among the leaves, she
watched until she saw Rose St. Aubin sitting b
a fire, in tears, listening to the muttered speec
of Red Lightning, who was seated by her side,
evidently against her will. .

Still the madwoman kept her place. '

Edward Gresham was brought into the camp
amid the murmuring of the Circle, and she con

' hardly restrain a cry of deli ht when the Grand

Commandant went down un er the stalwart arm
of the Trailer.

\She saw him, strong and tall in his young man-
hood, standing alone, opposed to thirty enemies,
and with superhuman valor hold them at bay.
The tray terrified her, and yet it had a wonder-
ful interest. She held her breath as the club

 

whirled in air, and alighted upon the heads of v
the brethren. A moment after she saw him ' 
stand upri ht a pistol in his hand, and the chief . ,-
trembling1 y his side. ~ ‘ 4

Would e slay him, and with him the secret
she sought? The madwoman at once flung oi!
all disguise, and was about to throw herself into
the circle, when she saw the Grand Command-
ant slip suddenly under the arm of his enemy, ‘ , ,
grasping his wrist, and holding it high above his \ 
head. efore Edward could wrench his hand  
free, a score of his enemies were upon him, and
he was borne to the earth, while the Frenchmen  3’
struck and mauled him, helpless as he was. ‘ \ {’x,

y “ Hands ofl !” roared the Commandant. “ Death 
men, would you kill him before I have my re~
venge?”

“ Oh, cowards! cowards!” cried Rose. “ Twen— 
tz against one manl I am ashamed to think ‘- L ,_ ;
t at you are my countrymen.” . . ,

The men dropped the now insensible form of «
Edward to the earth, and Rose ran forwardand ,
raised his bleedin head upon her knee, while
the masked leader ooked coldly on. 

” He brought it on himself, my lady,” he said.
“How dared he strike a man like me? Yeti .
would not have him slain at present. Pierre, ’
bring me a gourdful of water, and you dogs,
that you are, stand back! It you have killed»
him, you shall suifer for it, I swear to you!” ,

The man brought the water, and the rest ‘ ,
Slunk awa while Rose took the gourd and be-. 
gan to was the blood from her lovar’s face. He , -4
was badly cut, and stunned by the blows he had
received, but the cool splashing of that soft V
band revived him, and his eyes opened, although-\‘
he was still too faint and giddy to rise. , .

“I tried to save you, my darling,” he'whis-
pered. “ but they were too many for me.” ' g

“ Hush,” she said. “ Do not speak as you,

value vour life.”

“What are on saying?” demanded the _?
Frenchman. “ 0 love passages between you
two or I shall finish the work my friends have ‘
be n. Am you better, you dog?” V »

dward made no answer save by a look,‘
but the scoundrel understood him and bithk <
lips until the blood came. / , \ j

“ You defy me, then?” . ' ' W

“Yes; I have but little more to 9 ~ t at ':
your hands, and I scorn you. am in ur
power, and you can kill me if you will, but you "
are a coward—Zache! do you understand?” e

“I will have your life for that word. Come -
away from him, Rose, or by the light I-wxll
dra you away, Rise, I say, leave him!” »  '

“ t will be better, Rose,” said Edward sadly.
“I can do no more, and we must bear this sor- »
row as well as we can. But, remember, whether ,
I live or die, that I am true to on. my love.”‘., ,

“And I will never be 1 so,” cned Rose. -
“Here, on my knees beside you, I (promise I
never to in any man save you. An it, on " '
are slain I wil die as your unwedded bride.’ -

With a fiendish cry, the ruffian seized her by
the wrist and dragged her to her feet. She‘
caught 11 the pisto which Edwardhad dro 
and woud have used it, but he twi or
arm until she was forced to drop it from sheer »

m. ,
paRose,struggled desperately, but he called tw

 

 
 
  
    
   
   
   
 
 

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».

 

  

I you take me tori”.

.28'

of his men and put her in their charge, and she
was carried away calling vainly for help. By
the Frenchman’s orders, they laid the unfortu—
nate man upon the earth, with a rope upon each
ankle and wrist, and drew the cords so taut
that every muscle was strained. He was then
fastened to a tree. The position was madden-
ing, but the torture of his body was nothing to
the agony of his soul. He lay silent, his eyes
blazing with fury, but his tongue was dumb.

The weary night passed at length, and the
bound man was released long enough to eat a
little, and then was tied down again. Rose
came out of the bush hut in which she had pass—
ed the night, and would have released him, but
one of the men dra ged her away.

“No. no, my y; that is against my
orders.”

“ Take your hands from me, instantly. Are
you men or fiends, that you cannot see that he
will die if he is not released?"

“ Your own liberty will be taken away if you
attempt it again, madam,” said the chief,
angrily coming forward.

“ You need not torture him. Set a ard
over him but do not confine him in that ead-
ful way.”

' “I will try another plan, then.” replied Red
Lightning. “Here, men; place the prisoner
in a sitting position against the tree. You
Pierre, Ernest, and J avert, will remain an
mm}, him. The rest will dress for the at-

The men hurried away and in a short time
appeared a sin, in the dress and paint of In-

' dlans. to 1 outward appearance W andots.
Red Lightning also had donned his In' 'an cos~
turns, and leaving one more man as a guard for

I 'Ryse they marched away. All that long morn-

ing they heard the boom of cannon, the rattle
of musketry and the clear ring of the rifles, and
knew that that the assault upon Detroit had
oommonced. This continued for hours, and
then a dro ing flre succeeded, principally from
rifles, and dward knew that the Indians had
been re ulsed.

Rose card the firing, but not daring to a

ch her lover she remained in suspense. T 9

fire continued throughout the day.

Toward the evening the excited Rose was 31t-

tin u on a little hillock, out of sight of the

 p ending with the man who guarded her to
set her free.

“Now!” he said, impatiently. “What do

“Are we not both French, sir, children of
the, same great peo lei”

“But you are f so to the French' you care
only for the English. Bah! I hate all who up-
hold these beef-eaters.”

. “We have eaten their salt,” said Rose, “ and
ought to be their friends.”

x. “ Bah, I tell you! If the English had one
throat, and my knife was in my hand, how
again; would I'drink their blood. I would

' e murderous words died upon his lips, and
“found sense went with them. Rose saw,_to
her utter horror" that an arrow had ieroed him
.to the heart! hen an Indian, wit his finger
on his lips enjoining silence, came forward, like

-/ r

  

   

 

 

The ironing Trailer

a shadow, to show himself, and then as sudden-
ly disappeared.
It was Ketadin, the Delaware.

CHAPTER XIII.
AVENGEDI AVENGED!

THE scream which rose to Rose’s lips was
hushed, as she staggered back from the bloody
corpse of the slain man. A moment after there
came from the thicket the cry of the wild
turkey, a bird which the French hunters re-
garded as the most delicate of dishes. Two of
the guards rose, and, seizing their guns, leavin
a single man in charge of Edward. hurri
away in tpursuit of the game. Rose heard the
gobble o the turkey repeated again and again,
as it receded, growing fainter, until it died away
in the distance. Ten minutes after a distant
cry was heard, and she knew that either the
Frenchmen had fallen or the Indian had sealed
his devotion with his life, but she rose and walk-
ed rapidly toward the guard, and entered into
conversation with him, to call his attention
from the woods from which she expected to see
Ketadin appear. But, the moments passed, and
the Indian did not come.

Without warning gliding like a shadow,
Ketadin stole through the leaf cover. Where
were the brothers of the Circ e of Ven nee?
Dead in the forest, each with an arrow t rough
his heart. The eye of the chief had not failed
him in the time when it was needed, and the
men had done their last deed of violence.

He reached the circle of the glade, and ep-
ing through the underbrush, saw Edward ying
bound to the tree, and Rose standing so close to
the guard that he dared not loose the shaft, and
he waited his chance. Soon after, Rose moved
a little, leaving the side of the fellow exposed,
and the deadly arrow hissed through the air,
and the last guard lay bleedin on the earth.
Ketadin ran in, cutting the ban 5 which bound
the fixing man to the tree.

 

etadin, friend of the white, man!” cried

Edward, as he clas d his strong hand. “I
might have known t at you would not forsake
me, but I thought you far away.”

‘ Ketadin was not blind to the danger which
hung over his white brother and the Bright
Star, and he has come to help them. Let us

0. . ‘\

He had hardly spoken, when from all sides
avengeful cry, and the ainted forms of the
brothers of the Circle of engeance poured in
upon them. Ketarlin, fighting like a hero was
borne down by numbers, and laid bleeding and
senseless on the sod. Edward, still weak from
his recent wounds, although struggling manful‘
1y, was soon over wered, and ose was held
fast in the grip of d Li htning.

“It is lucky, after al , that the cowardly.

Wyandots refused to assail the works,” said Red
Lightning. “ Do you know that Indian?”

‘ It is Ketadin, the Delaware,” replied one of
the men. “ I know the dog well.”

“ I have heard of him. Death and destruc-
tion! Is Pierre dead?”

“ He has a long arrow between his ribs. Com-
mandant,” replied the man. .

“ And where are the rest?”

“ We can see them nowhere”;

 

 

 

 

..-,_._- .- _ ._

The Young Trailer.~

  

‘  ,
89 V 7 

 

“Search for them, and it they are dead find
the bodies and bring them in at once.”

The men scattered throu h the woods and in
half an hour came back, ringing with them
the lifeless bodies of the three men who had fall-
on by Ketadin’s hand. A fierce snarl ran
, through the circle, and the looked savagely at
the prostrate figure of the ndjan.

“ his must end, men,” said Rod Lightning.
“Take 11 that murderous Indian and keep him
safe unti he recovers, for he must have his
senses when he dies. See to the Trailer as well,
for I am determined that he shall share his
friend’s fate.”

The silent band obeyed the orders of their
superior. The Indian was carried away and
securely bound, and the same was done with
Edward. Then they dug a wide grave in the
center of the valley, in which to bury the men
, who had fallen, while the dark band, with their
' black robes thrown hastily over their Indian

finery, marched about the grave, chanting a
rude funeral dirge.

One of the black-robed brothers then advanced
and said the services of the Roman Catholic
church above the dead, and then the earth hid
them forever. Rose looked at the priest in

'2~ wonder, for she did not know that there was one
of that class connected with the hand. She
knew that the order of the Jesuits had long
arms, and that they had done more than any
others to build up colonies in this far land, but
she was also aware that they had endeavored to
dissuade the French from giving the Indians
assistance, and had been, in a great measure,
successful. Who then was the priest who said

. mass for the dead?
When all was done, Red Lightning gave Rose
i in charge of one of the men, and was gone for

some moments, accompanied by the priest,
unmasked, revealing the crafty face of Entienne
Barbier. .
“I might have known you were concerned in
this,” she said. “ 1 am not surprised to see you
in the/midst of blood and violence, but, how
dare you so profane the rites of our Holy
Churc , Monsieur Barbier?”
“ I have not profaned them, my daughter,”
 replied the other. “I am Father Josephus; a
member of the order of Jesuits, and here at the
command of my superiors. I am here to per-
suade you to keep your
~man who has fought no ly in defense of his
countri. He has done evil at times, it is true,
but I ave absolved him, and I know that he
I loves you.”
_y~ “That man! Father if you are indeed a
i riest, dare you counsel a pure woman to unite
erself for life to such a scoundrel?”

“ I dare- you must be his wife.”

“That is the word; you must,” replied the
Commandant. “I have sworn to make you my
wife before the sun goes down.”

 ‘.‘ Murder, do not touch me. Father J Osephus,
I appeal to you for aid against this man!”

‘ You 13pr in vain. The fates have ordered
that vou all be his wife,” said the Jesuit.

“You: are perjured, priest. Remember your

'9 vows before God. He] , help, if there is a man
i , in all this hand! You t_are Frenchmen listen
to  My father has lived long in Detroit;

 

   

romise to this young-

 

 

here my mother di and lies buried; herelthee .. /

best years of my ' e were spent, and I never , i
knowingly did one of you a wrong. My father 7 '
has befriended many of you doubtless, and will ’. ,
you stand idly by and see me made the wife of ‘ - -
this base man against my will?”- ' ‘1 

There was a movement among the brothers,
and weapons were half drawn, when Barbier
turned upon them. ' " ‘ ' .' ' '

“Brethren, you are half persuaded to give
this foolish woman aid, but think a moment. ‘

Her father’s name is written in red, and her
lover’s as well. Dare you forget your oathsh
and so peril the cause?” '

Every hand dropped at once, although they._
murmured still. V ’ , /

“ Bring out the prisoners!” cried the Grand”
Commandant. I

Several men started to obey, and the Indian
and Edward were drag ed into the circle. .7 ’
Both were suflering from t eir injuries, and yet , = 
wore a high exalted look, as they looked death , ' '
defiantly in the face. '

“You are called to witness my marriage, . < 
Edward Gresham. Look at me well, for I am ‘
that man Whom you have hounded from place =y‘
to place, hunted like the beast of the forest, and
who now claims his revenge at your hands ‘ -
—Guston Delisle, the outlawl’ _

“Ha! I suspected this! If I had known it 3
sooner I would have killed you at the head ot_ v
your men long ago." * ‘

“ You did not know it, and if you had, I have, {
snch faith in myself as to believe that I am not ' r
so ready to be killed. You shall see me uni \
to Rose St. Aubin in the tie which nothing .,
de‘atg can stlalverkfind thhen (itiefl‘m « _ , V v

on m no orce er in you against
her gill? What priest is 30 base as to othe, ’
wor

“ Base or not, I am the man,” said Entianne ,
Barbier, showing his face. ‘

“ You a tpriest; you?” « ,

“Yes; 6 order of Jesuits hath long arms, 
and I am one of the fingers.” -- ' ’ ‘

Edward made a bound. threw aside his ens-f 
mies, and seized Gaston Delisle by the throat 
The outlaw put up his hand, covered by a glove” 1". -
and, as the two struggled, the glove was tom 01!, ’
revealing the scarred stump of the fore—finger,
which had been cut oil!

“It was you who sought to murder me, Gu- ,
ton Delisle! I see my work upon our hand.” '

Strong men forced them asun er, and, mid C;
the cries for mercy from the poor girl, 28.03er V; ,.
dragged to the side of her outlaw lover, and the 
ceremony be an. What did they'care whether 
she answere as or no, but she had no choice.‘ I
There stood dward, strongly held b tour ,
$01? mien, while a fifth held a cocked p stol at

5 ea . « u '

h“ If she says no,” cried Delisle, “shoothim on i
t e ot.’ . ‘ s”
“ ever flinch, Rose,” cried Edward. “He "
will kill me after it; you cannot save in life.” '-

“ I cannot give you to death, Edwa ,l’mqan. .
ed Rose. “ What shall I do?" , ~ ‘ 

"Let me pass!” shrieked a well-known voice;
and Madge Sinclair, breathless’with running, ‘
film the crowd and reached the side of Do-

3‘ ,

 

 

 

    
   
   
    
  
   
 
   
 
 
  
 
    
     
  

t

 

f

“You told me that

 ’ ou knew nothing of
{ Willie!” she cried. "
i

on have lied, for you

murdered him 1”
Before any one could interfere, she had plun -
ed her knife into Delisle’s throat, above the co -
‘ ' ’ lax-bone. It was the stroke of deathl He sta -
! , ‘ gored clutched at the air for su port, and fel
ve  the dust, the deat -rattle in his
t ge looked a moment on the sense

less clay.

“ Hal bal ha 1” she screamed, after a moment’s
silence. “He mocked at Wild Mad e, and see
how he isansweredl Stand back, Brot ers of the

lac League. The Ottawas are here l”
. She was right, for from every side the red
. warriors were coming upon them, with weapons
ready. Pontiac was foremost; he parted the
crowd about the body, and started back in sur-

\

....c-~-_.‘m... .....,_.__., , _

prise as he beheld it.
“He is dead,” he said. “ Who has laid Red
. Lightning low?" I
‘ I i" cried Mad e. “ 1, the avenger of blood!”

“ And she shal die for it l” cried Entienne
L . Barbier. coming forward. ’
,  “ Silence, blot upon the holy name of priest,”
" ‘said a stern voice, and Father Marteau, the
 Jesuit priest of .tbe Ottawas, stood before him.
' “Go; you are ordered io return to Paris, there
to report to the Head how you have done your
1 . _ _ work. I, as your superior, order it!”
v “ Drother Josephus" folded his hands meekly
. ; on his breast and bowed his head.
‘ ,r“ I obey,” be said. “ Must I go at once?”
Lf “‘ This moment.”
 . The Jesuit a ain bowed and turned to make
 his way throng the wilderness to Quebec. No
2. one in America ever saw his face again, after he
sailed for Paris. What his fate was, no one will
.i ever know, but be was blotted entirely from the
book of life. -
~ » The Circle of Vengeance was broken by the
death of their leader, and scattered to the four
,r, winds. None of them ever returned to Detroit,
3 , for their secrets were now known, and the place
in which they had held their meetings was found,
with all its dparaphernalia.
They he. banded together under Delisle’s
, charge to drive the English out of Detroit, and
3' , had stirred up the Indians to the bloody work.
’: ; Had‘ the Canadians joined with them, they
, must have succeeded, and the last of the chain
‘ of forts upon the lakes have fallen. wen all
r was over they found a hidden go from
I Barbier’s house under the Wall of t 9 fort to the
 raver-bank—a passage which had been built by
" the French lon before the English occu ncy,
.' ,and through w ich Edward was carrie u n
f  the night of his capture. Why this passage ad
,\‘ not been used in assailing the fort, no man can
. say. Probably Delisle meant to show the In-
), dians their incomgetency, and afterward gain
1/ credit with them takin the fort by su rise
. with the aid of the ircleo Vengeance. hat-
, over, his desl , his death doubtless saved Detroit
, great calamity.
; , Pontiac had been called by Madge Sinclair to
‘- I come to the rescue of Rose St. Aubin, and had
redeemed his promise nobly. Madge hadsfiided
. them, and arrived in time to avenge her ugh-
tored bus ad. and save 3086 trams fists mm

3

 

    
   
 

 death.

I

t! ' 30 The Young Trailer. ' .
i

 

: i.“ .  '- ‘ nan

‘

Rose was returned to her father’s house, who
ted her with joy. Edward Gresham and
etadin were kept prisoners by the Indians, but
with such men it was not a hard task to escape,
and in less than a week the came, one dark
night, to the waier—gate of e fort in a canoe.
They remained in the fort through the long
sie e, fighting gallantly and making almost
nig t1 excursions into the Indian camps, until
the sc ooner which brought reinforcementsto
Detroit rounded the island, bearin the red cross
of St. George gallantly at her pea ,and Detroit
was saved.

 

Madge Sinclair lived for years, but she no
longer roamed the woods, and one day, when
they missed her, they found her lying upon her
husband’s grave dead, with a smile upon her
face.

When ce came, Edward Gresham and Rose
were ma e one and Ketadin took into his lodge
the beautiful Indian girl, Katherine, much to
the disgust of Davy Hughes.

The boy, under the tuition of the Trailer and
Ketadin, became in time a mighty hunter, and
one of the best scouts upon the order.

Edward Gresham grew to be the leading man
in Detroit and from im is descended one of the
fiesta families of the great State he helped to

m .

As for Pontiac, he belongs to bitory. But,
though an Indian, and one who fought accord-
ing to his lights, he wasa wonderful man. whose
name will not soon pass into oblivion.

’ THE END.

DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS-

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AND HOME ENTER TA INMEN TS.

 

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82 Octsvo Pages.

  

I Deerhnnter, tho my Scout ofths Gust North Woods.
By Oll Coomes.

‘- ‘2 Buii’alo Bill, from Boyhood to Msnhood. By Col. Pran-

_ tins Inzrnhsm.
8 Kit Car-on, King of Guides. By Albert W. Aiksn.

4 Gordon Lillie, the Boy-Interpreter oi'tho Pswnees. By
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5 Bruin Adams, Old Grinly's Boy Psrd. By Colonel
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7 Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince. By Colonel Prnutlss
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8 The Prairie Ranch. Bv Jouph E- Bndser. Jr-
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10 Texas Jack. the Mustang King. By Colonel Prentiss
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11 Charley Skylark. A Sin?! 0! School-day Scrspes snd
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18 Roving Ben. By John J. Marshall.

14 Spring Steel, King of the Bush. By J. E. Bsdnr, Jr.

15 W‘g‘ile-swuke George, the Boy Pioneer. By Edwsrd
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16 The Boy Wizard. By Barry Ringgoid.
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18 Adi-iii. on the Prairie. And Amateur Hunters
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19 The Fortune liunter; or, Rovin Joe ss Min-r,
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90 Trapper Tons. thr Wood imp. By 1‘. C. Hsrbsugh.

31 Yellow llnir, the Boy Chin! oi‘ the Pswnus. By Col.
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M Woods and Waters. By Capt. Frodsrick Whittaker.

25 A Rollin Stone: lflclfllliu in the Career on See ind
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98 Red River Rovers. By C. Dunning Clsrir.

37 Plaza and Plain or. Wild Adventures «{“Bnciukin
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BS The Sword Prince. The Romsntic Life of Col. Mon-
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r B9 Snow-Shoe Torn. By T. C. Hsrbsugh.

80 Paul de Lacy, the French Bout Chsrmsr. By C.
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81 Round the Camp Fire. By Joseph E. Bsdgsr, .ir.

It White Beaver, ths Indisn Msdicino Chisf. By Col.
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38 The Boy Crusader. By Capt. Fred. Whittshr.

84 The Chase of the Great White Stag, snd, Camp
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85 Old Tar Knuckle And His Boy Chums. By R. Stuhuek.

86 The Dashing Dragoon; or, The Story of Gsn. George
A. Custer. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. >

8? Night-“owl! George. By Col. Prentiss lngrshsm.

88 The Boy Exiles of Siberia. By T. C. Hsrhsunh.

89 The You-z Bear Hunters. By Morris Rodwing.

‘0 Smart Sin, tho Led with a Level Held. ByEdwerd
Willoit.

41 The Settler’s Son. By Edward 8. Ellis.

48 Walt Ferguson's Cruise. By C. Dunning Cisrk.

u Rifle and Revolver. By Capt. Frod. Whittekor.

 

 

44 The Lost Boy Whale". Br '1'. 0. Must.

45 Broneo Billy, the SsddisPrinne. By Coulnlrshsln.

40 Dick, the Stowaway. By Chsrlss Morris.

47 The Colorado Boys; or, Lift on snlndign Pintsqu.
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48 The Pampas llunterlu or, New York Boys ll
Bueuos Ayres. By T. C. Hsrbsngh.

49 The Adventurous mm of Nebraska Charlie.
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50 In k “or sndT ths'l‘hrsoChsm lonBrotiurs.
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69 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Hsrhengh.

58 Honest. Ilnrr ; or, The Country Boy Adrift in the
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54 California Joe, the Mysterious Plsinsusn. By Col.
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55 Tip Treml. the Floster. By Edwsrd Willstt.

56 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the Woods. By
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esrce.

5 Th Ad L1: to
8 33.1.. aifiP‘imi ruin? 1.53:3!" lnk’ u"

59 Lane Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines. By Charles
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60 The Young Trail Hunters; or, New York Boys in
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61 The Ti er llnnter or, The Colorsdo Boys in lio-
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6 l l Rlfl Th Y F

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Russians. Chsrlu o

10 1’ th 0 Y
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lly Mar H. B. S
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7T Lud Lionheels, the Young 'l‘ipr Fighter. Iylopr
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79 Boone, the linnm. By Csptsln LWhIthhsr.
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1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. " . ... . ., ‘ 4
' r32 Ootnvo Pages.
1) a ,
B E A z
«98% «2»
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‘80 Kentuqky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Camcndel. By I 129 Fllvcrflpllr; or, The Muuntnin Heroine. By Edward
81 Tfiogtfifsflgnck T wnnn.
e argon Club. By . C. liurlmugb. ] 0 ’ . , . . y :1 Billing. ii 1’ B.
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55 Cgmfiln Ralph],th Young Explorer. By C. Dxinniug: 184 wr‘hhiwxfil Vi‘iileli’i‘.‘ ' B, w R :3 I 0°
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92 Hurricane Rita. 1m A}. F. Hon. , 14o 33'3"}ng um Mountaineer By Law W Cam"
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.94 an“ Spence, u". nmmhnm my. 1;). Ed. Willa“. 1-12 Bluok Panther, the Half-Blood. By Jouph E.
95 M5,”??w1tosmgr'n; or’ A Yankee Boy to the Rescue' 143 33:53:31}... Guide- or Perlll oftho Frontinr By Lleut
' y rlflr t9 1 arm. . 9 l l ' ‘
96 Filjghrtlglu‘fllrvgedgl or, The Cnstuwuyn of Grizzly Camp. 144  u' R“!“‘l']’_:1’l" B Ed d Em
y . /. ur mum. 'ent, he illlgcl'. y war S. I.
I 97  Eifitwny; 0" Ym‘k“ Boy” in Ceyl‘m' 145 Ill“ Robbins, Hunter. By Edward Willatt.
98 The Buy Vlgllnuton; or, King Cole and His Band. 146 The "Inf-Breed Rival; or. The Tangled Tull.
By .\iu'. I]. Is. Stoddn d. B) J'm h- BMW, Jr-
99 The MW T129": Orv 511V" Rm‘fi “‘3 m” THINK” 14? The Masked Avenger. By Col. Prentiss lnurnhnm
ofLuim Superinfi. By Capt. (‘Imrm iluwnni. , ,. v . '
100 The Snow-S oo 'l‘rnll; or,’l‘he Forest Desparudocl. 148 hut” ‘1’” “app” and “mm” “film” By PM” J‘
1; ~ St. George Rnthhone. Plum”-
101 )f‘urhmu, the Ottawa Girl; or, The Mysterioul Canoe. 149 The Elk Demon; or, The Giant Brothorn. By T.
liv Edwurd S. Ellis. C. Harhuugh.
102 The Fl "W" Afloat} “‘3 “Wk” Boy‘mwn‘i “‘0 150 The Buy Mustang-Hunter; or. Enululln,’thc
108 Ivor” 5' (" 3""1": UM ‘ . Beautiful Amazon. liy Frmlerick Whittnkar.
at Mulloney s Adventures; or, Silver Tongue ,
the Dncutnh Queen. ByC. L. Edwards. . 151 Ermlk V} ates, the Youn§ Tm per; or, Mountain
1.04 an? Bu lR-ospgftgr; kor. The Secret of the Sierra kflle’s Vi amine:- By JOBPP“ ' B“ K“. J'-
,, vme. ' og-er ur .uc . 152 “11;! Raven, the Scout. By 01] Coornel.
r . 1
105 Mhmnee’ we wow WM)" 0" The squat“, ' socm‘ 158 Lynx-pap; or, Your Trappen’ Amang the Sioux. By

_ B Edwin Emerson. I
106 The Bov Cruisers: or, Jon and Jap's Big Find. By ' Pu“ Bib 5-

Edwmd Willem 154 The Chumrlon Texan Rider; or,Red Bungle,
103’ T.th BBorgefi‘lPoygielf-F: nr, Lnlt on the Overland and the Hercu es Hunter. By Hurry St. George.
nu I . l 1 OH H mun. . .
108 A‘Mku,ythe Womqnew; W, Th“ “my Brother“, 155 Dusky Dick’s Doom. By Jon. E. Bndgar, Jr. I
.Dnuhio Crime. llv (In It. Hownrd Lincoln. 156 Frank Bell, the Boy Spy. By Oil Coomel.

109 Chrigtlnn Jlln, the hits Mnu’n Friend. ByEdwnrd 157 Nick Dayle, the Gold Human 3’. p. H_ My”...

. . llu. . .

1.10 Plueky :oe, the Ray Avenger; or, Dick Belmont‘s 15s km'uu’m‘d Dick: 0"! The 11““ 0! “‘3 Fire “37- By
LmtRlde. By J. Miltnnflofl‘man. -'- Stanley chdm'm-

111 The Border filmmaker; or, The Hunted Maiden. 159 Ram’s Long Trail; on The Twin SEW“- By W- «1.
By Lune: L. Bowen. . Hmnilton.

1“ I‘mflnnded Pete’ “1° Double’xnlfi' By JONPh 160 flunk Triplet”; Vow. I By Harry Hazard.

. gar r.
113 The Riv'er Rlflcs; or, The Fate of the Fluthont. By 161 The Mad Skipper. By R. Starhuch.
Cal“- J' F- 9- “hm”!- wz The Truppa-r King. By M-u'. Mn: M .rtine.

‘ 114 Alone on the Plain». B Ellwnrrl wmm. , ‘
llfi-Sllver Horn, and Him Ki 9 Firodanth. By Roger 133 Simon I“who”, Hunter. By Emerwn Rodm-n.

Star uc . ’ 164 '1‘! l 0111 l’ . F k B H’ C t. B Oil
116 Exgloltl ogflezeklah Slnlth, tho Buckwoodnman. Outfit-3.0, . e ‘ m m" e  amp“ y
By .merson odmnn. 1 65 The Trude;- Trnitor. By J. Stanley Henderson.

11? The Young Mustnnzerna or, Dick Merry’l Rang-
l

uh (Kim 139' C: "1!“an Cyl’kvm I B B m I 166 old June‘s Clcw. By Mrs. Orrin June-
. ran. ‘1’ tn: 0 vn s. urr mph 1. i v _
119 Center shat. ’tha White Crow; my; Roving Rifle": ‘67  grim”: Trnnu“ By W‘ J' H‘mm'on' Rudy
Fin-t Cum mlgn. By T. C. linrlmugh. ' I ' ' ‘ _
120 A flat rail; or, Clark CioverlyAmonu the Tartan. lbs The firm-tor Spy. By MM. Lem: W. Cnrlun.
. R Cinu’lll Morris. Rcudy uly '2.
1’1 ] "um" Pu?“ Be“; 9"! Th“ w‘dmd” mm“ Lead- 169 Lunk Lute, the Old Colurndo Hunter. By E. W.
1"” ,fifiRO‘l-E' 5'3"““k , Th M u f m Archer. Randy July 9.
neeli‘.'n?33'vi'alg»"1fifi3i.$’ e y. 'y ° ‘ 170 The white Wolf. By Edward wmm. Ready
128 "l'III‘l’. the Boy Acrobut; or, Life in the Circuit Ring. By J‘”! lb-
(,‘Iml'lfl Mnrl'il. 1’31 The Swamp Gulde. By W. N- McNeil. Rudy,
 $uee’iV lfiessle',l tlhu Bflgtletfiil'i- llyll‘gianyry J.T}:oml;la. July 98.
0". n or 1 ’ 0 “Ln “'2' Or in Oull’ MC -
Gun “ Wrylve’u.” L Byanrry Rin‘gga‘id. 1‘ y Beudle’s Boy'fl lerury/in for Isle by I“ Nevada-ion,
126 1%:2'  2‘19 332"???” 01': The SPI’ilIR 0‘ ‘1"! five cents per copy, or lent by tnnll on raeaipt old: cum ouch.
. ‘ . . r u .
187 Thence!“ H‘un't rn. 13y John J. Mnrnhn‘ill. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pubmhers,
195 Wolf-On ; or In: NightJlnwlu oi the Elm-uncle. .
By Ulpt. nl. award. r 98 William Street, New York.