. (Uln—

:L‘"
‘4 H"

’r

 

17.5%

Copyrighwd, 1889. by Dunn AND Arum. Entered all. me Post Office at New York,

N. Y.. as Sccond Class Mail Matter
N  $2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams,
0- I a ‘ W" No. 98 WILLIAM S12. NEW YORK.

my. 9, 1889.

Price

Five 001‘!“- V0].- XXI

 

,mw az/

ON THE SMOOTH WHITE SIDE OF THE HORSE WRITTEN IN RED, AND IN LARGE, DISTINCT CHARACTERS,
WAS THE mama wonn "HELP!"

 

I Sancho Sam’s Shot.

Sancho Sam’s Shot;

on,

Fort Binkley’s Specter Riders.

BY GEORGE GLEASON,

AUTHOR or “WISTAH, THE CHILD err,"
. ETC., are.
l

 

CHAPTER 1.
cassnn TO DEATH.

THERE is a thrilling excitement in a race on
the open prairie at any time; but when the
race occurs in the dead hour of the night, and
the stakes are a human life, the excitement is
doubly intense.

It was a wild March night. There was a
moon in the sky, but the black scudding clouds
sailed across its disk every moment, making
checkers of light and shadow on the prairie be-
low. A high wind, coming out of the lowering
west, swept with unrestrained fury to the east-
ward.

Caught up by the driving winds, and borne
for miles along its course, came the swift clat-
ter of horses’ hoofs, faint yet distinct.

The rider—or riders, for there evidently
were more than one—see med putting their ani-
mals to the test. At a dangerous rate they
dashed through moonlight and darkness, as if
driven irresistibly betore the furious gale. Who
could they be? And what could be the cause of
this rickless, headlong race, at such a time and

ace
p The pounding of boots on the hard turf grew
louder and louder.

Now they came in sight. What! only one
horseman? Only one appears, but there are
others behind him, distinctly heard yet still in-
‘visible. At this moment the moon is shining
unobscured. Its tempered light falls upon the
leading horseman, and discloses him to our
view. He is a young man, not over twenty-five
years of age. handsomely formed, and by no
means ill-looking in the face; he is mounted
upon a powerful, snow-white chargzr, his body
leaning forward over the proudly-arched neck,
his head half turned, and his eyes gazing in-
tently over his shoulder.

Clad in hunter’s garb, a rifle rests across the
pummel of his saddle, which he clutches
tightly with one hand, while the other holds the
re us.

The pursuers were probably Indians. al-
thOugh, from any sound that came from them,
it was not Elain that they were such. They ut-
tered no w oop nor cry—in fact made no noise
whatever. They seemed hushed into silence by
their eager intentness, as they followed close in
the white man’s rear. He could see them only
at intervals, when the clouds overhead were
thinnest, and then just plainly enough to be
gar-tail! that the number of his pursuers were

ree.

“ I ‘wish my rifle was loaded,” said the hunter
to himself; “ I think I could reduce the number
of my enemies to two. But I was careless

 

enough to leave it unloaded after shooting that
turkey. I wonder why they don’t bring me out
of my saddle? I believe they could do it, but I
suppose they want to capture me. Faster,
Cherokee! They are struggling desperately to
overtake us. Go! go! Show them what you
are made of.”

The noble animal did show what he was made
of. Conscious of his master’s peril, he seemed
to strain every nerve in his behalf, and the dis-
tance between him and his pursuers began to
increase more rapidly than before. ‘

“ Hal they will soon give up the chase,
now I” a,

In a few minutes the pursuers were entirely
out of sight, but the cluttering hoof‘strokes told
that they had not relinquished the chase. On
they came with unabated speed, and yet they
gave no whoop or yell as evidence of their eager-
ness or determination.

But, just as the brave winner of the race was
carrying his rider safe! y out of the danger into
which he had fallen—just as his rider began to
stroke his mane with affectionate ride, and tell
him he had done nobly—the fleet- ooted courser
stumbled and pitched headlong to the ground!

The young man felt himself flying swift!
through the air one moment; the next, he struc
the earth with a violence that almost stunned

1m.

But he quickly sprung to his feet, though he
felt that he was severely bruised It was ver
dark now; the thick, black clouds shut out al
light from above, and the wind was blowing
fiercely and steadily. The sava es were still in
hot pursuit. Their horses‘ hoo s were beating
the earth as rapidly as ever. In one minute
they would be on the spot, and then—

More alarmed now than he had been before,
the hunter bent over his horse and struck him
smartly with his open hand.

“Up. Cherokee! Rise! rise! Quick! or I am
lost! The Indians are almost upon us. My God!
is be dead?” .

No, he was not dead. He made one attempt
to rise, but sunk back again, and lay as motion-
less as a heap of snow.

The race was over. The white steed was cer-
tainly winner, but now he must be stripped of
his laurels by treachery.

The young man glanced hurriedly around. It
would be folly to attempt to escape on foot, and,
besides, he could not think of leaving his faith-
ful horse to fall into the hands of the savages.
He snatched up his rifle, but dropped it again
immediately.

“ It is empty.” he cried, stamping his foot
“Curse my negligence in leaving it unloa led.
He! the pistols! Why have I not thought of
them before?" '

He beat down, and drew a brace of large pis-
tols from the holster of his saddle“ Standing
astride of his fallen horse, and holding one of
the weapons in each hand, he painted them at
the approaching horsemen. .

In a moment the pursuers were in sight. He
saw them looming up darkly before him, as they
came dashing recklessly on, their long robes
daunting in the wind.

There was not a second to lose. His aim was .

deadly, as his fingers pressed the triggers. Bang.

 

 

g
r x

 

  

 

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot. at

an"

 

went both the pistols at once, and the double re-
port rung out loud and startling.

For an instant there was a cessation of sounds.
Then there was a. plunging and snorting of
frightened horses, 8. shrill neigh of afl’i'ight, a
confused pounding of boots, and the terrified
animals swerved to the right and galloped
away.

But just as they turned, the clouds overhead
parted, and the earth was flooded with the inel-
low moonlight, which seemed even more bril-
liant than before, after the darkness. At the
very moment the light burst forth, the pursuers
were in the act of changing their course, and
were sweeping round directly in front of the
hunter‘s eyes.

He staggered back with a cry of amazement
and terror. The pistols dropped from his hands,
the puller-of death overspread his face, and the
blood seemed turning to ice in his veins. God
of Heaven! What was this he saw?

There were three horses, wild-looking and
steaming with perspiration, and upon the hack
of every horse sat a human skeleton, partially
concealed by a long white sheet flying out be-
hind, each skeleton holding the reins, and sit-
ting erect like a living man!

 

CHAPTER II.
OLD sancno SAM.

LONG before the young man recovered from
his surprise and horror, the ghastly spectacle
had vanished, and yet he stood there, gazing
with dilated eyes at the darkness which had
swallowed it up.

Human skeletons on horseback! How could
he believe it, even after seeing them? It would
be simply iiu ssible to describe the sensations
that were his at that moment—the icy chills
creeping over him; the difficulty he experienced
in breathing; the momentary suspension, We
might almost say, of life. He had never before
heard of such a thing. What could it mean?

“ I saw it,” he mused, “ that much is certain.
and I could take my oath that it is no freak
of the imagination. But the fact that I am
mystified is no assurance that it can not he
explained.”

‘Hello, tharl Is that you,-Edward West—
lake?”

The young man wheeled round, and stood on
the defensive.

There, in the moonlight, sitting on the back
of an old rawboned mare. was a man, old and
rawboned too, though evidently good for many
more years of activity. His hair and beard
were gray, his face rugged and weatherbeaten,
hiseyes bright and piercing as an eagle’s his
figure lank and slightly crooked, and his left
hand minus a thumb. A white scar running
diagonally across his forehead. extended from the
roots of his hair to his right eyebrow; his nose
was disfigured by a large hairy mole, which
occupied one side of it near the end. He wore
an outfit of dirty buckskin, the leggins fliting
almost as tight as the skin, and looking very
much as though they had never been taken off
since the day they had been put on, which, un—
doubtedly, was at no recent date.

“ Blow me et it can’t Edward Westlake 1” ad-

ded the old hunter when the other turned to-
ward him.

“Sancho Sam, as surely as I live!” returned
the young man, grasping his hand and giving it
a hearty shake. _.

“ You’re ’hout right thar, youngster, of you
never war afore,” said the old individual, in his
rough, drawling voice. “ I’m Sure-Shot Sam,
sure’s shootin’, and hain’t been nobody else fur
sixty years and up’ards.”

“And what are you doing here?”

“ Now that ar’ is jist what I war on the ’int
of axin’ you. I’m not doin’ nothin’; you are
been, I culc’late.” ’ .

Edward Westlake picked up his rifle and pie-
tols in silence. I war squattin’ over yender
in a holler ” continued Sam, “and I was waked
up by the noise of gallopin’ bosses. I jumped
onto old Sarah Jane's back then, and when I
heerd that tremendous shot, which war like half
a. dozen rifles goin’ off to onc’t, I started this
way. Suiikthin’ out of the usual course of
events must have happened, youngster, ’cause I
rid right up ’tbcut ’tractin’ yer attention. and I
never knowed you to be so keerless afore.”

“ Yes, something extraordinary has occur-
red.”

“ I’d ’a’ swore to it. Whar’s yer boss?"

V“ Why, don’t you see him? He is lying here
on the ground.”

:‘ Ilfltverl’astin’ thunder! that ain’t Cherokee?”

‘ is.

“ Yer don’t mean to say he’s dead?”

“I hope he isn’t, but I fear he is hurt. He
was on a full gallop when he stumbled and fell.
He isn’t able to rise; Will you give me your as-
sistance?” .

“Will I?” The request was no sooner made
than one of Sam’s long, dangling legs beat the
air as he swung it over his mare’s neck and
slid to the ground.

“I hope he’s not gone under, ’cause I‘ll sw’ar
right straight up an" down thar ain’tabetter
lzoss on the plains.”

“Well, he’s not dead,” said the young man,
bending over the prostrate animal. ‘5 It re-
mains to be seen whether he is hurt severely or
not.

To their joy and surprise, however, they dis-
covered that the horse had sustained no injury
excegz a very slight cut on one knee. His fall
had en caused by the long lariat which his
master invariably carried, one end of which had
become disengaged from the saddle~bow and
dropped to the ground. His legs becoming en-
tangled iu this, he had been brought low at the
very moment he was receiving his master’s
praise, as winner of the race. I

.The lariat was quickly removed from his limbs,
and the proud steed was soon on his feet again.

“ There." said Edr ard Westlake, fondly pat-
ting the arched neck. “ My brave Cherokee is
himself once more.”

“ See liyur, Edward, I want to know what
in all creation made you ride so fast?” the trap-
per demanded, passing his hand over the smooth
coata’ol? the steaming horse. “ Injuns been arter
you -,

“ No,” was the laconic response.

“What then? Thar was more bosses nor
youru on the rampage, 'cause I heerd ’em.”

 

jaw

a

‘3 I I Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

“ You would not believe me if I should tell

iyou," he muttered, the moonlight showing that
e was quite pale and nervous.

A strange expression appeared on the rugged
face of the old trapper.

He took a step forward, and gave his compan-
ion a keen, Searching look.

“ I understand you, my boy,” said he, with
emphasis, as he laid one of his brawny hands on
Edward‘s shoulder, “ I understand you now.
You’re see’d th’e Specter Riders 1”

Young Westlake started violently, and stared
at the speaker in astonishment.

“ How know you that?” he asked, quickly.

"‘I see it in yer face,” was the reply.

“ And did you ever see these skeletons?"

“See’d ’em yesterday, fur the fu’st time. It
was in broad dayli ht, but they were half a mile
away. and I didn’t eer ’bout gittin’ nearer.”

“ Did you ever hear of them before?”

“ Never did.”

The young hunter was perplexed. If the
startling spectacle had not been presented to
other eyes than his own, he thought he might
have arrived at the con 'lusion, eventually. that
he had been deceived by a momentary disorder
of the intellect. But, as it was, he could think
no more of discarding the evidence of his senses.

" It is a very singular henomenon," he said,
musinglv. “ I never hear anything sostrange.”

“ This heavar never did, that’s sart’in."

“ What do you think they are. Sam?”

“ Why, bless yer gizzard, they’re sperrils, in

, course.”

“ Bah!” returned the other, disdainfully; “ I
do not believe they are spirits. Preposterous!”

“ You're green, youngster. Do you think
they’re human hv=in's‘ riding round the kentry,
with no flesh on their bones?"

" Of course not. it is quite evident that there
is no life, either earthly or spiritual, in those
naked bones.”

The old hunter broke into a low laugh.

“ Sometimes I think you‘re powerful cute.”
said he, “ but I’ll be shot it you ain’t greener'n
hammered elm. arter all. E! that’s no life in
them bones, how do they set up on the horses
so straight, and ride about jist like livin’ men ?"

“I cannot tell. I do not pretend to under-
stand it, but I think there is no supernatural
agency in the affair.” ‘

“ Thar’s jist whar we difl’er. I think thor is.
Etthe Specter Riders ain’t sperrits, they ain’t
nothin’. Let ’em git hold of you once’t, and I’ll
bet you’ll have your peepers opened."

“You are not afraid of them, Sam?"

“ Thar’s no mortal ever lived that old Sancho
Sam 'u’d show the white feather to, but hyur’s
what don’t want a great deal to do with them a
don't purtend to be mortal.” '

“ You belieVe in ghosts, then?”

At this the old borderer seemed to hesitate.

“ Wal, Edward, maybe I do,” he replied.

Ed ward smiled.

“ I believe you said you first saw these mys-
terious horsemen yesterday?” he inquired, after

a pause.
‘ That’s what I said."
“And had never heard of them before?”
“ J ist so.”
" Have you told anybody about it?”

 

“ Sart’in. Went right to the fort with the
story.”

“ How did they receive it!”

“ Wal, they knows I ain‘t in the habit of
lyin’, so you may stake yer ha’r that it made
consid’able excitement."

“ Did you find any one that had seen the spec-
ters?” ’

“ Nary one.”

‘_‘ Their advent in this neighborhood must be
Iqulg? recent. When did you leave Fort Bink-
e .

“ This mornin’," returned the trapper. “ Been
tryin’ the hull day to git another squint at them
spooks, but didn’t git it. Groin’ to start back in
the mornin’.”

“ Good! We will go together. How did you

leave the people? How are old Colonel Howarth ‘

and—and—-daughteri"

“The kurnel are the same old kurnel cl’ar
through, and .as fur Marian—wail, thar’s no
change in her, onless she’s got purtier.”

A soft flush dyed the tanned cheek of the stal-
wart young hunter.

“I will see her to-morrow,” he murmured,
to himself and then added, aloud: “By the
way, has bean Potter turned up yet? Or, has
any trace of him been discovered in my ab«
seiice?"

“ Nary trace,” answered Griff; “ but thar‘s
more bad news. Since you went away two other
tellers have been missin’. They sloped in the
some onsart’in way that Potter did.”

“ Two other fellows disappeared l” exclaim-
ed Westlake, in astonishment. “ Who are
they?”

” Simon Dawes and Joe Cramptou.”

“ And the manner of their disappearance is
vailed in mystery, just as Dean Potter’s is?”

“ Exactly. Nobody kin tell a word about ‘em
—n0body knows wliar to look fur ’ein—nobody
knows whether they went of tha’r own_accord,
or somebody else’s accord.”

“ It is very strange. When will wonders
cease?"

We will not follow them further in their
conversation. Suffice it “to say that they stood
there for some time longer. talking principally
upon subjects which we prefer to introduce at
a later period of our narrative: after which
the two hunters found a spot partially sheltered
from the driving Wind, and laid them down to
sleep. '

 

CHAPTER III.

SOLOMON, THE INDIAN DWARF.

Four BINKLEY was one of those frontier
posts, which the United States Government has
scattered over the broad prairie lying west of
the Mississippi. In its construction, this fort
was not different from the majority of those ‘to
be found upon the western border—_with its
stout pickets. its wooden bastiona. its ditch sur-
rounding all, and its loopholes for musketry.
Inside were the block—houses and soldiers’ quar-
ters, and other buildings used for the protection
of stores; and. high abOVe the tallest structure,
the beautiful flag of our country unfurled .its
glorious stripes and stars, and floated proudly

over the fort.

 

-¥l-Ka*~w. than. - LIC’Wav-w—i‘...

 

 

 

 

 

 

> .L'rl‘3.lniy~y._

 

 

 

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot. 5

 

Several small cannon were planted in the rude
bastions, and these, in addition to other advan-
tages of strength and location, made it a for-
midable object to hostile Indians.

The garrison consisted of about two hundred
men and the officer in command was one Colo-
nel ficwarth, a sturdy old soldier who bore the
scars of many battles, and who was as gentle
and tender-hearted in peace as he was brave and
invincible in war.

Colonel Howarth had a daughter, who lived
with him at the fort—a modest, lovely girl, who
had but recently arrived at the age of eighteen
years, and who was the pride and t of the
garrison. Her name was Marian. er beauty
was of a type universally admired, made up of
lips like ripe cherries, complexion clear and
sli htly olive~tinted, features fanltlessly and
de icately cut, hair wavy, luxuriant and dark
as a G y’s,with lustrous eyes that were change»
able in ne, at one time gray, and at another in-
tensely black.

it was the day succeeding the night whose
events we have just described, and a day so
mild and pleasant that it seemed to belong to
the month of May instead of March.

Early in the afternoon, Marian Howarth
went out for a walk, as was her custom when
the weather was propitious; With her dark,
flowing hair formin a frame round her sunny,
dimpled face—with ere es sparkling like dia-
monds, and a broad—br mmnd hat casting a
gpntle shade over her features—she looked more
like a Gypsy now than ever,tripping airin along
the winding praix ie—path, Which she always
followed in her rambles.

Presently she turned the corner of a huge
bluff that rose abruptly from the plain. In
another minute the fort was hidden from view,
by the long ledges of rock which she had placed
between it and herself. Here was the end of
her walk.

With a promptness that betrayed a previous
knowledge of its existence, she found a pretty,
retired nook, and there sat down to rest, and
muse, and view the romantic scenery around her.
A half—hour passed thus, and then, with a deep—
drawn sigh, she came out of the bright realms
of fairy-land, to find hemelf once more en-
shroliéded by the cold realities of a less fantastic
WOT .

After glancing about, in a bewildered sort of
a manner, like one waking from a dream, she
broke into a merry, ri pliug laugh.

“ How my imaginat on runs away with me!”
she said, to herself. I‘I never sit down here
but my fancy begins to construct castles in the
air, and l wander amid fairy bowers, charmed
into sweet contentment by the fancied scene
around me. I-lal hal hal am I in love? Ah]
am 1?” She held out her little left hand, and
looked blushingly at the circlet of gold which
sparkled on the fore-finger. “Yes, yes: lam
in love,” she murmured, and I care not if the
whole world knewl it; for who can say my af-
fections have been mis laced? His mother gave
him this ring, on her oath-bed, and no power
on earth can induce me to violate the sacred
vows it seals. N01 110! I’ll betrue to him for-
ever!”

She paused, and picked up a small piece of

 

soapstone, fragments of which were lying pro
fuser around. With this she began to mark
something on the smooth face of the rock beSIde
her. At first she used it carelessly and mechani-
cally, but soon her whole attention became en-
grossed in her work, and her eyes kindled with
interest as she formed character after character
with skill and precision. ’

Presently she sto ped, blushed deeply, and
cast the fragment 0 stone away. But she had
formed a name on the side of the rock, and that
name was EDWARD WESTLAKE. .

“There is the name of my love,” she whis-
pered, as if imparting a secret to some one;
“and a nobler, truer-hearted man never lived.
Let—me—see; it has been just a fortnight since
he went away, and he told me at parting that
he would be back in that time. It seems an age
since I saw him last. Dear, dearl I wish father
would send some one else on these dangerous
missions to the Indian tribes. But then, the
selection of Edward on nearly every occasion of
this kind, reflects much credit on his bravery
and skill.”

Just as the girl ceased speaking, she started
and looked quickly around. She had heard a
sound, so low as to be deceptive, and she could
neither guess, whence it came nor what ,had
caused it. In a' moment she heard it again.
This time she was prepared for it, and knew
that it came from some oint above her. She
cast her eyes upward. hat she saw was a
brown, half-clad figure, clambering nimbly.
down the rocks from the summit of the ledge.
It was directly over her, and rapidly nearing
the spot where she was sitting.

At first she was inclined to be frightened, as
she saw that the approaching figure was that
of an Indian. But a second look relieved her of
her uneasiness, for in it she recognized the in-
truder. It was a little, ugly, dwarfish, weazen-
faced lndian, whom she had often seen lounging
about the fort, and who was known among the
whites by the Christian appellation of Solomon.
Little attention was paid to him by the soldiers,
except at times when they wanted to make use
of him. and then he showed himself ever ready
to work, provided he received a remuneration
for his services.

As nothing was to be feared from this person,
Marian Howarth did not move.

The agile dwarf lea ed from the rocks above,
End struck the groun a few feet in front of

er.

She supposed he would walk away then, and
leave her to resume the train of thoughts he had
caused her to drop. But, instead of that, he
stopped there, folded his arms across his breast
and stood looking;r at her in silence. She glanced
up at him indignantly, but the words that were
on her tongue seemed to freeze in her mouth as
her eyes met his. The black, bead-like orbs of
the Indian were fastened upon her with a. look
of demoniac triumph, and littering like those
of a serpent. His stunted gbody was bent for-
ward, givin him the appearance of a wild
beast preparing to spring upon its prey.

In surprise and alarm Marian receded in-
voluntarily. .

“Ugh!” granted the savage; “white maiden
all alone?”

I: ,  f' s; :   w

6 Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

“ Yes," she replied: “ I am alone, and wish to
remain so. Why are you here?"

“ Foller you,” was the cool response.

“And w y did you follow me?" -

“ Find out soon enough. Goin’ to carry you
03. Kurnel’s dau hter nebber go back to fort.
She”my captive. o with hie—go ’way off with
me.

Marian began to grow pale. There could be
no doubt that he really meant to carry her
away. What could she do? He was certainly
equal to the task, for, though small of stature,
he was muscular in the extreme.

“ Why do you wish to take me away from my
home and father?” she asked. “I never knew
you were so wicker]. I thought you were a. good
man, who never harmed helpless women.”

This apparently had some effect upon the In-
dian. I-Ie hesitated, and was clearly confused
for some moments; then he said:

“ Solomon no wicked. Ho do die for gold.
Udder man hire him to do it.”

“Another man hires you! In the name of
Heaven, who i’”

“ Much bad man—pale-face.”

“ Oh, God! What does all this mean? Are
you speaking the truth? Tell me the name of
this man.”

“ His name is Turk Redby.”

“ Turk Redby !” gasped Marian.

She sunk back, pale and trembling, as she re-
peated that name, and sat there staring at the
dwarf, unable to utter another word.

Now was the Indian’s time. He saw how
weak and helpless she was rendered by the in-
form-ition he had given her, and recognized it
as the moment for action.

Like a tiger he leaped forward. With his
right hand be grasped both of her wrists, and
held them like a Vise, while he threw his left
around her waist; and in this manner he began
to drag her away from the spot.

 

CHAPTER IV.
A RUSH TO THE RESCUE.

MARIAN found her voice in a twinkling.

“ Help] help! help!” she screamed, as she
made a feeble eflort to free her hands. “ Help!
oh, he] I”

The ndian stop ed and shook her angrily.

“ Stop scream! ’ he commanded. “ Nobodyr
come. Me put sumkin’ oher white maiden s
mouth, it she no be still.”

At that instant they both heard the clear ring
of a horse’s boots on the rocky earth, accom-
panied by a hoarse shout from some unseen per‘
son.

Then a powerful white steed darted into view
like a flash of lightning. There was another
shout—the beaut ful animal halted as suddenly
as he had appeared, and a young man leaped
from his back almost before he stopped.

“ Back, miserable wretchl” thundered an im—

.rative voice. “ Unhand that girl, or by

seven you die a do ’3 death I”

> There was a quick low, dealt by a heavy fist;
acry of aflright, and the savage fell as if he
were shot.

But he bounded to his feet again like indiu-
rubber, and with a series of sharp yelps, in

 

which fear, pain and anger were combined, he
dartel out of sight like a hunted hare.

It was all over in a space of time so incredibly
short that the girl could scarcely realize that it
had truly occurred, until a stron arm encircled
hei' unrcsistingr form, and she fe t her head rest-
ing 11 on the broad, manly bosom of her lover.

“ ll arian, darling!"

“ Dear Edward !”

She looked up into his handsome, flushed face,
and received the tender kiss which he stooped to
imprint on her ripe, red lips.

“ Oh, Edward! I am so glad you have come,”
she said.

“ Indeed, my little girl, I am inclined to think
my coming was very opportune on this occa-
sion,” was the laughing response, as that rough,
brown hand gently smoothed back her dis-
ordered tresscs.

“ It was, truly,” she replied. “You came
just in time to save me from—from—”

She paused, shuddered, and the blushes left
her cheeks.

“From what, lov'ei”

“From a horrible captivity—if nothing
worse.”

“Not so bad as that, I hope,” he returned
cheerfully; “though I cannot guess why the.
little imp should wish to molest you. I always
thought he was a peaceable sort of a fellow.
But never mind; the scoundrel shall be pun-
ished if he has the audacity to return to the
fort after this. Ah! I had entirely forgotten
that I was accompanied by Sancho Sam.”

Marian looked quickly around, and the) first
thing she sawvwas the old trapper. sitting on
the back of his rawboued mare, coking at them
with calm indifference.

“ I kinder thought i'd slipped yer re-collect,”
said he, with his low laugh. “ Leastwise, yer
didn’t seem to pay much ’tention to me.”

Ashe said this he threw one of his long legs
over the animal’s neck, and dropped to the
ground.

“ We heard you screechin’ as we come along.”
he continued, walking up to the young couple
with long, awkward strides, and Iookiu at the
girl as he spoke. “ We heard you screec in’ fur
help, and the youngster thar he shot ahead like
a streak of greased lightnin’. I say, little
’uo. ,war that pesky red-skin trying to carry you

1

“ Yes," she re lied, “and he would certainly
have succeeded ut for the timely interference

of Edward.”

“ Cuss his rotten hide! I’d like to know what
he wanted to do that fur? Wnr’n’t he drunk?”

“I am sure he was non” . .

Sancho Sam looked perplexed. '

“ I never expected sich a thing of Solomon.
He allus ’peared to be a right squar’ kind of a
chap. Strikes me he ought to try and behave
hisself, ’cause he hain’t got a friend on ’arth
’xcept the pale-faces. He war turned out of the
tribe he used to b’long to, and thar’s nota Injun
as wouldn’t take his skalp as quick as they’d
steal abeaver-trnp.” . ' .

“ If that is the case ” said Westlake, “ it is a
mystery to me why he should wish to steel
Marian away from her home.” I

“ I am able to enlighten you a little on that

 

 

 

 

 

 

i,
l

.-L. , .,.....4 who"-.. - ,

mt

W....u*.....«...... . .

  

 

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot.

     

'1?

 

 

point,” said Marian. “Solomon is avaricious,
as you both know; it is the glitter of gold that
has worked upon his bad principles in this af-
fair. He has new hired by another party to at-
tem 1; my capture.”

“ ow know you that?” -

“ He told me.”

“ Then.” cried Edward, striking the stock of
his rifle on the ground, “this affair is not yet
settled. Tell me who the villain is that has
dared to do this, and I’ll confront him before the
sun sets!”

“ Not so fast, Edward; the person on speak
of will not be so easily found as you magine.”

“Who is he?”

“ His name is Tum: REDBY.”

“ What 5’”

At the mention of that name the two men
started back as if they were struck, and both
stared half-incredulously at the girl.

Sam was the first to speak.

“ Do you mean that?” he asked.

“I have just told you what the Indian told
me,” replied Marian, quietly.

“Can it be that that fiendish desperado is in
these parts?” muttered Ed ward.

“Must be,” rejoined the trapper. “ Ef be
warn’t in these parts, I reckon he wouldn’t be
bribin’ Solomon to captur’ the gal fur‘ him.
Yes. the cuss have come back to this nei hbor-
hood, I make no doubt. jist as he promi when
he went away, but you may stake yer last
shiner he’s cute enough to keep his mu under
kiver. Ef he shows hisself now he’ll be ynched
sure as shootin’. I s’pose Solomon didn t give
you no clew as to whar the chap mought be
found, little ’un?”

“ None whatever.”

“ But we must find him,” declared Edward.
“After that parting threat with which he
favored us, it strikes me that none of us are
safe while he is lurking in this vicinity.”

‘ His case ought to be ’tended to, that’s sar-
t’in,” said Sam. “But we’ll have to s’arch for
him kinder on the sly, so’s he won't know nothin’
’bout what’s going on."

“ That is true,” conceded the young man;
“therefore, the fewer persons we take into our
confidence, the better it will be for our chances
of success. I wonder what will occur next?" he
added, with a smile. “ On my return from the
mountains—and before reaching home—I have
rescued Marian from the hands of an Indian,
have learned that Turk Redby has come back.
and have been told that two more men are miss-
ing from the fort. to say nothing of my intro-
duction to those Specter Rifles. Why, I’m al-
most prepared to find the fort turned upside
down, and the people all standing on their
heads.” ' '

Marian broke into a merry pea] of laughter.

“Edward, has Sam been storing your mind
with nonsense about horrible specters on horse-
back, which he imagines he saw the other day?”

“ Didn‘t ’magine nothiu’,” spoke up the old
scout. “ I see’d them spooks t'other day, jist as
sart’in as I’m standin’ hyur. Hain’t been stuti‘ln’
the boy’s mind with nonsense, nuther. He See’d
’em hisself.”

The girl turned her gaze upon Edward.

“ Yes, Marian,” said he, in reply to her look

 

31"..

of inquiry, “I did see the awful phenomenon
which old Sam has told you about.

“ When?”

“ Last night. 1 not only saw the strange
horsemen, but ’was pursued by them several
miles on the prairie.”

“ Can it be possible? Are you sure that you
saw them plainly enough to admit no doubt as
to what they were?”

“ Quite sure. They were close upon me when
I saw them, and the moon, bursting through a
cloud, rendered the night almost as light as
day. There were three fleet-footed horses, and
upon the back of every horse sat a human
skeleton.”

“ Sam,” said the girl, taking the trapper’s
hand, “ pardon me for what I said a minute ago.
It was so wonderful that I couldn’t believe you
had seen real skeletons on horseback, though I
couldn’t guess how you had been so deceived.
But I believe it now, although I never heard of
anything half so strange.”

“The truth will come to light sooner or
later," said Edward, confidently. “ I am half-
inclined to believe that the missing men have
withdrawn from sight of their own accord,
merely to create a sensation, and that they are
practicing a joke on the people of Fort Binkley
with these Specter Riders.”

Sancho Sam shook his head.

“ Your views ain’t mine, by a long rcac ,”
said he, in his deep, drawling voice. ‘ I’ll tell
you what my opinyin are: I think thar’s no 'oke
consumed with the disappearance of Dean ot-
ter and the other tellers. This coon has some
how got it into his noddle that the poor chaps
war spirited away by them same specters, and
that more on us will vamose in the same way, ef
we don’t keep a skinned eye in our heads.”

“We’ll keep open eyes now, 1 think. But we
have had no dinner, and I am hungry as a wolf.
Let us go home. Here, Marian; I wantto walk
a little, so you may ride Cherokee.”\ ‘

She did not object, and he lifted her to the
saddle as easily as if she were an infant. Then
he walked beside her, and in this manner they
returned to the fort, Sam and his highly-prized
Sarah Jane taking the lead.

CHAPTER V.
THE THREAT or A MONSTER.

IF the reader will pardon a brief digression in
this place, we will take the present opportunity
of oing back and gathering up an event or two,
which occurred some time prior to the opening
chapters of this record, but which, nevertheless,
have an important bearing upon our story.

One year ago that spring, a stranger had ar-
rived at Fort Binkley, and taken up his abode
t ere.

He was a man of , extraordinary personnl
appearance, calculated to attract attention
wherever he went; but the looks and remarks of
others, however significant, never seemed to dis-
turb him in the slightest degree. He was straight
as an arrow and strong as a bullock, measuring
SIX feet in hight, and three and a half from
shoulder to shoulder! His heard was black as
get, and cropped short; his hair uncommonly

onfifor a man, and his eyesdeep-setand piercin ,
Wit a. sinister expression constantly lurking

 

,. tn,
..

  

 

We“ 5:. 

8 Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

their inky depths. He wore a black hunting-
shirt, always open at the throat, high-topped
boots drawn on outside of his bucksin breaches,
and a slouched hat shading his course, brutal
features. It was frequently remarked that he
looked more like an outlaw and desperado than
the peaceable adventurer he claimed to be; but,

~, notwithstanding general appearances had a ten-

: dency to excite suspicion, that was by no means
ufflcient reason for refusing him admittance to
to the fort. '

This man gave his name as Turk Redby.

For one month after his arrival no one had
cause to complain of his conduct. He formed
few acquaintances, attended to nobody’s affairs
but his own; and he did little else besides hunt-
ing and fishing, by which means he supported
himself. But at the end of that month the difll—
culty began.

One morning, at on early hour, Marian Ho—
warth mounted her father’s horse and sallied
forth for a gallop on the plain. When about
two miles from the fort she was met by Turk
Redby. She was a little frightened when she
saw'him approaching, for she had never liked
the looks o the man, and she had often thought
how she would dislike to meet him alone, in a
Enos where no friends were near to help her.

e was mounted, as she was, and, riding up to
her. he executed a profound bow, and stopped.

Marian tried to pass, but the man bent over
and grasped one of her hands. Trembling in
every limh, she looked up at him. His black,
piercing eyes were fastened upon her with a
mady gaze, whose meaning could not be mis-

en.

“Marian Howarth,” said he, in a rough yet
earnest voice “ you are the fairest flower
which Nature has lanted in this region! You
are beautifull on are worthy of the ad-

‘ miration of a king, or the envy of the proudest
queeul”

It was a singular speech for him to' make,
especially as it was the first time he had ever
spoken to her, and as it come without a single

reliminary remark. Marian snatched her hand
rot: his. as she would from the touch of a ser-
pen .

“ Leave me, sir,” she said, angrily. “ I don’t
like to' be stopped by force, and I wish to have
no words with you. Let me pass."

“ Stay but a moment, Miss Howarth,” he re—
doined, detaining her, as she essayed to ride on.

‘ Hear what I have to say; I will not detain you
long. Dear Marian, since I have come to Fort
Binkley you have won my heart! I am deeply,
desperately in love. I adore you; I worship the
very ground you walk upon. I cannotlive with-
out you—”

“Sir, I command you to leave me!” cried
Marian.

“Not until you have answered me,” replied
Turk Redby,drawing up his tall figure. “Not un-
til you have told me that my passion is in some
measure returned.” ’

The girl gave her horse a cut with the whip,
and he jumped forward. But, quick as thought,
the man seized the bridle-rein, put forth his

gantic strength against that of the horse, and

a moment the animal stood still again. ,

" Hands off, villain l” exclaimed Marian, flush-

K .

 

ing with indignation. “Hands off, and let me
pass, or you shall repent this insult. I will cause
my father to punish you.”

“Not so fast, my sweet little bird. When
you promise to become my wife, you are at
liberty to fly homewaril; but ,if you refuseto
make such a promise, by the Eternal you will
never look upon the face of your father again!
I would rather lose my soul than you, and I
would rather be your murderer than see you
bestow your aflections upon another.”

The last word had just dropped from the
rufliau’s mouth when down came the little rid-
ing-whip across tee back of the hand that held
the bridle, cuttin into the flesh, and causing it
to relax its hold. 11 an instant there was a snort
and a plunge, and before Redby was aware
that he had releasnd her, Marian was riding with
the speed of the wind toward the fort.

He did not pursue. She glanced over her
shoulder, and saw him still sitting there in his
saddle. as motionless as a rock, looking after her
as she fled from his presence. Unreasonable as
he appeared to be, ‘he evidentl saw that it
would be worse than useless to fol ow.

On arriving home, Marian’s first im ulse was
to go to her father and tell him what ad hap—
pened. But she took a second thought, and,
believing that Turk Redby would never .show
himself at the fort again, after the gross insult
he had offered her, she concluded to keep the
Secret of the affair locked up in her own breast,
for two or three days at least.

But she mistook the character of the man.
He did not put in an appearance again that day,
but the next morning 6 came in as bold] as if
he had never done anything wrong in his ife.

He went strai ht to the commandant’s uar-
ters, and deman ed an interview with Co onel
Howarth.

No sooner was he face to face with that ofiicer
than—in the abrupt manner in which he always
introduced a subject—he asked him for the
hand of his dau hter. The colonel was aston‘
ished, dumfoun ed, indignant. He turned red
and white several times in succession betore he
could utter a word, and when he did recover the
use of his tongue, it was only to jerk out the
one word :,

“ Yes, I,” reflied Redby, in an impudent, de-
fiant way. “ ’ve got considerable money, and
you had better let me have the girl, before she
falls into the clutches of some chap who can’t
keep her out of want.”

“ But you are not serious, Redby?” said the
astonished father.

“I mean precisely what I say,” was the curt
res use. .

‘ Then, sir, leave my presence at once!" cried
the colonel, white with rage, as he pomted to-
ward the door. “Begone! and let me never
hear another word from you on this sanect.”

It was not the mild refusal that might have
been ex ted from one of Colonel Howarth’s
disposition, but the idea of his daughter—beau-
tiful, refined, delicate, innocent Marian—the
idea of her bein selected for the wife of this
course, villainous- coking alventurer, was more
than he could listen to and keep his temper.

“ G01” he said; “ I W111 not hear another syl-

 

" .1 ":‘¥ semwes ’7}me

$0.. a and...“

 

 

 

 

 

  :

Sancho Sam’s Shot. 9 ’

 

lable from you. This is absurd—it is prepos-
terous."

A sneer curled Turk Redby’s lip, and an omi-
nous flre began to burn in his Wickedvlooking
eyes.

“Curse on!” he hissed, through his rinding
teeth. “ hen 1 leave at your order )1; will let
you know.”

“ Do you refuse to obey ?”

“ Do I? Can’t you see that I do? You shall
rl'eceixe my proposition with more respect before

‘This is folly, sir. If you do not withdraw
within five minutes, by Heaven I will have you
removed 1"

“ There are not men enough in the fort to do
that,” declared the adventurer, in a bullying
way. “ I tell you, colonel, you are trifling with
no common person now. I am desperate. You
had better consider your own safety before lay-
ing violent hands on me, and you had better
think twice before refusing me the hand of your
daughter. I will not take a refusal. The oppo-
sition of an army cannot revent me from
accomplishing my urposel he girl shall be
my Wife in spite of eaven and earth 1”

Colonel Howarth stepped to the door to call
in help, with the intention of removing the bois~
terous wretch per force. Before he could do so,
however, Redby stepped forward and dealt him
a blow between the eyes with his heavy fist,
which sent him staggering back into one corner
of the apartment. At that instant a soldier,
attracted by the loud, angry voices of the dispu-
touts, rushed into the room and attem ted to
interfere. But he was scarcely inside w en the
chperado drew a pistol, leveled it at him and
fired. The soldier {ell with a groan, and stained
the floor with his blood.

Having done this, the outlaw tried to escape,
but a command from Colonel Howarth rung
like a bugle-blast through the quarters, and his
retreat was cut off by a score of sturdy men.
There was a struggle, but in less than ten min-
utes Turk Redby was a prisoner, securely con-
fined in a cell of the block-house.

The soldier who was shot in the coloncl’s room
was seriously, though not mortally, wounded.

He was rendered a. cripple for life, by re-
ceiving the bullet in his knee. ‘

The garrison was thrown into astute of in-
tense excitement by this bold assault upon the
commandant, and the soldiers were ea or to re-
sent the insult, as well as toavenze their wound-
ed comrade. ,

A few of the hottest-headed ones were in favor
of hanging the monster, but to this the colonel
would not give his consent. He set his face
sternly against putting the fellow to death, as-
suring them that the extent of the offense—al-
though murder had been attempted—would not
justify them in taking the offender’s life. It
“as finally decided that Turk Redby should
receive a severe flogging, as condign punish-
merit for his conduct, after which he was to he
banished from the fort, with a warning that he
lcould not return, except at the peril of his
ife.

“So, one morning several days after his im-

risonment, he was led out to the place of tor—
ure, just beyond the confines of the fort, and it

 

was to take place in the presence of the entire
population.

The prisoner was stripped to the waist, and
tied to a post, which had been set into the
ground for this purpose.

Three men—strong, muscular fellows, all of
them—were appointed by Colonel Howarth to
inflict the punishment. Armed with whips,
each of which possessed a number of lashes,
these men rformed by turns the task assigned
to them. ast, and without mercy, fell the cut-
ting thongs upon the uncovered back of the
wretch, bringing the blood at every blow, but
no cry, no roan, not even a murmur fell from
the suflerer slips. Only an occasional quiver of
the body showed that he was sensible of the
pain.

But when the punishment was completed,
and the cords that bound him to the stake were
untied, he fell to the ground in a swoon.

Restoratives were promptly given him, and
he soon recovered and rose to his feet.

Without a word he turned his back on his tor-
turers, and moved slowly off, refusing assist-
ance in donning his garments. When a few
yards awIaIy, he stopped and turned toward the
crowd. e was pale, and looked weak, but his
voice was strong, loud, and steady enough for
all to hear, as he said:

“Thoufgh I leave on now, I swear you are
not rid 0 me yet! efore a year has ex ired
there are those among you who will fee the
vengeance of a desperate man i”

As he ceased, he turned on his heel, waved his
hand, and walked slowly away, without again
looking back.

The crowd watched him with solemn faces,
until he was out of sight. and since that memor-
able hour the eople of Fort Binkley had neither
seen nor hear of Turk Redby.

CHAPTER VI.
HOW WILL rr END?

THERE was no little excitement created at the
fort, when Sancho Sam and Edward Westlake
returned with an account of what had occurred.

The intelligence that the Indian dwarf, Solo-
mon, had turned traitor, and that Marian had
well-nigh become his captive, was surprising
enough in itself; but when they went on to say
that Solomon was in the service of Turk Redhy,
and thatthe latter was somewhere in the vicin-
ity, wonder and indignation found vent in ex-
cited exelamations and clamorous in uiries.

The excitement was increased w en ybung
Westlake, urged by the trapper, recounted his
adventure with the Specter iders.

Sancho Sam’s stor , which that worth had
told a day or two he ore. had not work very
strongly upon the credulity of those who heard
it, as the majority believed that, in some unac-
countable manncr, he had been deceived. But,
now that his statement was corroborated by
Edward, who told a story still more wonderful
than that of the trapper, the people could only
cplnclude that there was something in it, after
a . \
Quite a number believed that the missing men
-Dean Potter, Simon Dawes and Joe Crampton
—were in some manner connected with it; but
there was a diversity of opinion as to the nature

 

 

1...
l
l
l
l
l

 

10 Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

of the connection. While some thought it was
simply a trick played upon them by the three
men, others supposed that the Specter Riders
were actually spirits from the dead, and that
they were the cause of the trio’s mysterious dis-
appearance.

Colonel Howarth scratched his head and
frowned, as he always did when perplexed.

“ Peterson," he cried out, to a man standing
near, “ tell young Westlake and Sancho Sam
that I wish to see them immediately.”

In ten minutes the three men were closeted
together in the commandant’s private apartment,
in the block-house.

They held a consultation. Colonel Howarth
first spoke of the Specter Horsemen, asking an
endless number of questions concerning them,
and declaring repeatedly that it was the stran-
gest thing he had ever heard of. Skeletons riding
horses! Why, it was awful l And strikin
the table a tremendous blow with his fist, he to]
his two friends he never could have believed
such a preposterous story, had it proceeded from
other lips than their own. What course should
he pursue to investigate the cause of this
in stery?

dward thought it unnecessary to attempt an
investigation.

“Whatever they are," said be, “we can not
say that they have offered to harm any one as
yet. True, they pursued me hotly last night,
but when I discharged my pistols they turned
aside and galloped away, as unconcerned as if it
mattered nothing to them in which direction
they rode. I believe there is nothing to be ap-
prehended from them, and the mystery will
explain itself it let alone. Besides, in my
opinion, there are matters of more importance
demanding attention at present. What about
this man, Redby? It strikes me that he means
mischief by returning to this neighborhood, and
if we continue to baffle him in his efforts to steal
my daughter, there is no telling what he will do.
I would send out a body of men without delay,
to search for his hiding-place, but for one thing:
there are now three parties out. hunting for
Potter, Dawes and Crampton, and I cannot tell
how long they will be present. In existing state
of affairs, when the Indians seem on the verge
of digging up the hatchet, I hesitate to thin out
the garrison more, and thus weaken our re-
sources for defense."

“ No occasion fur it, kurnel,” said Sam, con-
fidently, throwing one long leg over the other.
“ Me ,and the youngster have made that up
atwixt us. We’re goin' to go out alone in s’arch
of Turk Redby.". '

“ Alone!”

“ Sart'iu we be. Thar’s no use sendin‘ a hull
score of men to look fur a single man.’

“ But, supposing you find him. you will pro-
bany need assistance when it comes to making
him surrender." ,

“ Bah! ’tain’t likely, noways, Ef we do. I
reckon one of us kin watch him while t’other
comes back arter help. No use talkin'. knrncl;
we’re boun’ fur to do this by ourselves, and
hyur’s. what stakes his pile that we won’t come
back without fiudln’ the feller’s lurkin’—place.”

Colonel Howartb seemed to reflect.

“ I. believe you are right,” he said. “ There

 

are no other two men in the fort whom I could
feel safe in sending upon an errand like this,
but your success in previous undertakings, and
your skill in overcoming dan ers and uncer-
tainties, force me to believe t at you will sue-
ceed in this.”

“We propose to do what we can, sir,” said
Edward, modestly.

“ And when do you wish to start?”

“As soon as you see proper to send us; the
sooner the better, I think.”

“ Reckon we’d better go to-morrer, said Sam.

“Make it the day after to-morrow,” inter-

osed Colonel Howarth. addressing the trap or.
‘Remember that Westlake has been on a ong
and tedious journey, and should have one day
for rest."

“ Wal, the clay arter to—morrer is soon
enough. I calc’late,” replied Sam, rising and
stretching his limbs.

And that was the result of the consultation.

Next morning Marian rose bright and early,
and came forth to take her favorite recreation
--a gallop in the o 11 air. As was always the
case when Edwar was not absent, she rode
his handsome white steed, Cherokee, and it was
a most beautiful picture they made together.
Marian always chose to ride alone, in her morn—
ing exercise, but on this occasion her father
would not hear to her going outside of the walls
unaccom anied.

“ I wil go with you my self,” said the colonel.
“ I believe I am in need of exercise of this kind.
and consequently I shall kill two birds with one
stone."

And so Colonel Hawarth mounted his own
spirited horse, and accompanied Marian as her
protector.

Edward stood at the gate as father and ‘

(laughter rode out, and somehow his heart fair-
ly leaped as he looked at her. He thought she
had never looked so charming as n0w, with her
dark eyes sparkling. her hair blewin unheeded
about her face, and the cold wind lasing the
roses into her cheeks.

“Good-by, Edward!" she cried, laughingly,
as they passed him. “ Maybe you will never
see me again.”

He knew it was a hit at her father, for his
fears, but nevertheless he could not help feeling
a little uneasy as the words fell upon his ears.

When a little distance away, Marian turned
her head and kissed her hand to Edward. He

answered, and then silently there by the gate he '

stood, watching the riders as the gallo
away, nor removed his eyes from the r receding
forms until they were lost to view beyond the
distant ledges.

“ Maybe you will never see me again.”

Somehow these words, playfully though they
1were uttered, made a singular impressmn on our

are.

He could not get them of! his mind, and he
caught himself repeating them again and again
under his breath. .

h_A strange, sickening terror took possessxou of
1m.

 

CHAPTER VII.
ON THE TRAIL. l ‘ .
WHEN Colonel Howartb rode out Wlth bl:

 

 

 

3.
39
*1.



 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot. 11

 

dau hter, he told a subordinate officer, who de—
sir an interview with him, that he would be
[Mack in one hour, positively.

He was not as good as his word. Two—three
—four hours passed away, and still the colonel
and girl were absent.

None came and went, and still the absent cou-
ple did not put in an appearance. The whole
fort was thrown into a state of intense exmte—
merit and alarm. and every one was oagrr to
learn What ha'l happened to the mixing ones.
The majority believed that Indians were at the
bottom of it, but quite a number whispered
mysteriously to one another about the Specter
Riders, and the similar disappearance of the
three men, Potter, Crammon, and Dawes. In
their oplnion the Specter Riders were the cause
of all, and at the head of this party was the old
trapper, Sancho Sam.

Something must be done. That was the cry
of all, but what it was that must be done was
another question.

A meeting of all the inhabitants of the fort
was rolled, which resulted in selecting Edward
and Sam to take the trail of the missnig colonel
and his daughter.

It was now the middle of the afternoon, and
without wasting another minute of time, the
two men hastily equipped themselves for a jour
nay Edward had to borrow a horse. his owu
having been given into the pdssession of Marian,
but this, of course, was easily done, where ev—

erybody was eager to render a service to Colonel

Hownrth.

In a very short time they were in their sud-
dles. With a final good-by to their friends, from
whom they received words of cheer and prayers
for sue-ress, thoyrgalloped away.

“ Thar goes two more,” said somebody in the
crowd, “ and I opine they'll never return to
Fort Binkley, Wouldn't be s’prised of we never
see any on ’em ag'in in this world.”

The course followed by Edward and Sam lay
due west, which was the direction taken by the
colonel and Marian in theirdenarture. Edward
was niountcd upon a. spirited little pony, of the
mustang breed, while Sum, of course, bestrode
the irrepressible Sarah J one.

At a distance of about five miles from the
fort they made their first halt. It was at this
paint that the trail met with its first interrup-
tion, and they paused to examine the ground.

Here they made a startling discovery. Up to
this time it appeared that Marian and her fa-
ther had ridden at a steady cantor, side by side,
but on this spot they had evidently drawn rein.
There were innumerable hoof-prints in the yield—
ing soil, suggesting one of two things: that the
horses had not stood very quietly, or had been
joined by others. V ,

“Which is it?” asked Edward, who was the
first to speak of the conflicting probabilities.

“ They’ve been j’ined by others, I take it,”
returned the trapper. looking at the tracks with
some perplexity. “ You jist keep yer seat,
while I git down and take a cluser view."

With this Sam slid out of the saddle and be-
gan a closer examination of the ground.

“ Do you make out anything?" asked his com-
panion, eagerly.

“ Heap,” was the laconic reply. “~Thar’s lots

 

of tracks hyur that war never made by Chero-
kee or the kurnel’s boss.”

“ Then it was on this spot that the diflicnlty
took place, and from here we must take the
trail in earnest.”

“ Now you’re talkin', boy, but we want to un—
derstand what tuk place hyur, afore we go
furder.”

Edward dismounted and joined his friend in
the examination.

“ I almOSt fear to look about,” he said. “for
I more than half-expect to discover something
that will tell us Marian and her father have
met with a horrible fate. Good Heaven I”

“ Eh? VVhat‘s the matter?” demanded the
trapper, startled by the sudden exclamation of
the young man.

Edward was standing there, just where he
had dismounted, his face ashy white, and his
eyes gleamingr like stars.

“ Vtht’s the matter, boy l” repeated Sam,
slapping; him on the back.

Edward pointed to the ground.

“ Look!” Le gasped. “It is blood—I know it
is blood!" '

Sancho Sam did look, and a cloud swept ovor
his features. It was blood—dark, coagulated
blood— spilled some hours before as its appear-
ance plainly indicated, and although it had
been partially trampled into the earth by the
horses, there were still pools and blotches left
to tell of the dark deed that; had been perpe-
trated on this spot.

The two men looked significantly at each
other.

“It is human blood—of course?” said Ed-
ward, huskily. ,

“ I rather think it are,” was the muttered re-
joinder.

“ Then one or both of them has been killed !"

There was no tremor in the young man's
voice as he said this: but he waapale as death,
and there was cold perSpiration On his forehead.

“Maybe ’tain’t so bad as that, youngster,"
said Sam. *

“ I hope not, but it looks had—very bad.
Somebody has evidently been killed or seriously
hurt, and the most reasonable‘supposition is
that it was either the colonel or Marian, or
both. Have you ascertained which direction
their enemies came from '9’"

“ Yas; hyur’s whnr the tracks j'ine. They
dashed onto ’em at full speed, that’s sart’in, and
they come from yender course.”

The trapper poiu‘ed to a dense cluster of wil-
low trees growing on atract of low. marshy
land, at a distance of about a furlong from
where they stood. .

“ I suppose,” said Edward, “ that the demons
were hidden among those willows, and burst
upon their victims so suddenly and unexpected-
ly that the latter were unable to make a. move-
ment toward escape.” ‘ .

“ You’re speakin' this buffler’s mind now.”

“How many enemies were there?” inquired
the vouth. 4 _

“ Wal, thar was only three bosses, and I cal~
c’late thar warn’t more men than bosses.”

“ Only three! Of course they were Indians?”

“ That’s jist what’s puzzlin’ my upper story.
’Tain’t plain to me that they war Injuns—notby

ruin-1,17. :

x
,l .

 

 

 

imam , m. . y- in“... I>~1M «Wm; .,  , .. . , a“ . . mm, W1 Janene .

WNW“... on»... ..

12 Sancho Sam's Shot.

 

a long shot. In fact, I don’t b’lieve Injuns had
anything to do with it whatsnmever.”

“ You astonish me.”

“ Wal, youngster, you know as well as I that
reds ain’t in the habit of keepiu‘ tha’r hosses
shod, and if you’ll look at these tracks you’ll
diskiver that every hoof w’ars a shoe.”

“ But who could they be, if not Indians?”

Sancho Sam seemed to hesitate before reply—
ing to this query, and looked keenly at his corn-
panion. Then, in a 'subdued voice, as if fearful
that somebody else would hear him. he said:

“ Edward it strikes me I’d better jog your
memory a little. The hosses of the bpecter
Riders are all shod I”

CIIAPTER'VIII.
WHO ARE THE canons?

“ WHAT do you mean?” demanded Edward, in
a. tone of vexation.

“I tuck ’tickler notice," continued the trap-
per, with a shake of his head, “ and I see’d they
war shod jist like white men‘s bosses. Besides,
you know thar’s jist three of them specters, and
of that number don’t correspond with those
tracks, I’ll draw in my horns."

Edward stamped his foot with impatience;
for, to be candid, he was somewhat alarmed by
the words of his friend, though he endeavored to
conceal it.

“ Let us not talk about that now, Sam,” said
he. “ I cannot think as you do; but whoever or
whatever has cap‘ured or killed our friends, we
must follow and punish them, all the same.”

“ We‘ll do that, of possible," said the trapper,
firmly, but with an air which showed he doubt-
ed the possibility of punishing anything that
was not mortal. “ Hyur’s what ain’t fur givin’
up the job, but it’s cl’ar to me them spooks is at
the bottom of the hull thing.”

Then both renewed their examination of the
signs on the ground. These were quite compli-
cated, and for some time no definite Conclusion
could he arrived at as to the result of the strug-
gle which had taken place here.

“ Look at these tracks," cried the young hun-
ter, after wandering away from his companion.

“ Don’t see ’em ’way 011 that, do yer?” inquir-
ed the elder, looking up.

“ Yes. and they are just as fresh as those. By
my soul! here is Cherokee’s footprint. I would
know it among a thousand.”

The trapper joined him, and scrutinized the
earth curiously.

Yes, here were tracks, made by horses dash-
ing away at breakneck speed, in a southerly di-
rection.

“ You’re right, youngster," said the old scout;
“ this is Cherokee s track.”

Edward uttered a joyful exclamation.

. “ And this other.” said he, “is that of the 501-
onel's horsel Good! I verily believe they ef-
fected their escape, after all.”

For some moments Sancho Sam was silent;
then, slowly shakin his head, he resumed an
upright position, an muttered:

” That’s a wron notion you’ve got now, kum-
rid. The kurnel’s oss hain’t passed this way at
all, and of. you’ll jist take another hint at the
’arth hyur Iguess you'll see yer mistake. My
view of the thing is this; when they war set

 

upon by tha’r enemies, the gal broke awa , and
tried to escape by flight, while the sudd ntness
of the transaction. pervented the kurnel from
doin‘ anything of the sort. Wal, one of the
skunks rushed after the gel, and this are the
d’rection they tuck. D’yer see?”

Edward saw, and his countenance clouded.
It was evident that Sam’s solution was the pro-
per one.

“ Whether Marian war ketched or not,” he
continued, as he coolly took a chew of tobacco,
“ remains to be seen. We’ll jist foller this trail,
and see how it ends.”

They had followed it but a dozen rods, when
they came to a spot where it was quite obvious
Marian had been captured by her pursuers. She
had failed to escape.

“ What ailed that horse!” cried Edward,
fiercely. “ He might have done better than
that’.’ There isn’t a swilter horse in the coun-

trii‘he trapper shook his head gravel .

“ Et he war swift as lightnin’ itseff,” said he,
“ thar be no use in tryin’ to outrun a. sperrt't;
and that‘s what them Specter Riders are.”

“ Bah!" was the impatient rejoinder; “ didn‘t
he outrun them the other night, when they were
after me? If he had not fallen. I could have
left them far behind in a jiffy. Pshawl even if
these are Specter Riders, I have no faith in their
ability to trawl faster than mortals.”

Neither cared to enter into an argument on
this subject, so it was dropped then and there.

Turning aside from the s t where Marian
was captured, the two horses ad walked away,
side by side, returning by a circuitous course, to
the point where the attack had been made.

Following the trail thither, the hunters were
forced to the conviction that, if nothing worse
had befallen them, Colonel Howarth and daugh-
ter were at least in the custody of enemies.

They soon discovered the trail, where the live
horses had moved oi! together, and mounting
their own animals, our fearless champions rode
along beside it at a brisk cantor.

Sancho Sam’s thirty years’ experience on the
border now served him a good turn. By mere
reference to the indentations in the ground, he
was enabled to assert that every one of the five
horses in front was mounted. It was by no
means, an unpleasant discovery. for it went to
show that Marian and her father were still alive
and in the saddle, and this reflection filling them
with hope, they pushed resolutely on.

Just at nightfall they reached a broad but
shallow stream of water, running directly across
their path. They did not cross it.

By this time it was too dark to follow the
trail further, and they decided to sto on the
bank of the stream until morning. 0, after
tethering their animals, di. mhing a frugal
meal, and holding a consultation of some length
they spread their blankets upon the ground
and lay down to rest. .

 

CHAPTER IX.
A Hermann: man-r.
THE night was clear and cold. It was late
when the moon made its. appearance, but it
made ample amends for its tardiness by the

 

3'3? 1 mi. . ‘

 

l
.
!
l
i
i
i
1

 

 

 

 

y
i
i
l
J
2
5

    

Sancho Sam's Shot. 18

 

flood of tempered refill ence it emitted from its
full, round disk, as it s owly ascended the sky.

It was after midnight, when the two men
were awakened by a lhrill neigh from one of the
horses. The sound brought them out of their
slumbers with a start. Simultaneously they
rose to a sitting posture, rubbing their eyes
open, and staring about them, bewildered and
alarmed.

“ What was it?” asked Edward.

" That was Sarah Jane’s voice, onless I’m
powerful mistook,” owled the trapper, en—
deavoring to clear his eyesight, “and when she
boilers you ma sw’ar thar’s sunkt‘oin’ in the
wind. Jist 100 at ’em—thar 1's sunkthin’ the
matter.”

And the position of the animals told that there
really was.

They were standing with heads erect, their
ears pointed forward, and their glassy eyes look-
ing steadily in one direction.

“They see something,” whispered Westlake;
"an Indian, probably.”

H 78b 1”

At that instant they distinctly heard the neigh
of another horse, proceeding from a point fur—
ther down the river.

As it moved by one impulse, both reached for
their rifles, and in a second they had them in
their hands ready for use. Springing to their
feet, they scattered the fire in every direction,
and then stood waiting for the expected attack.
Nothing was to be seen—nothing more to be
heard.

The moon shone on with undimmed brilliancy,
the river gurgled and sung in its shallow bed,
and no other sounds disturbed the stillness.

_ But old Sarah Jane and the mustang con-
tinued to stand with their heads in the air, gaz-
ing in the direction from which that answering
’18th had come.

‘ What does it all mean i" exclaimed Edward,
looking uneasily around.

“ It means thar’s somebody in the neighbor-
hood besides ourselves,” was the confident re—
joinder.

“ There certainly was a moment since, but we
have no proof that such is the case now."

“ See how them critters stare—that’s proof.”

“Hush! Look—lookl"

Both saw it at the same time, though what it
was neither could tell, since their keen eyes
could give it no shape. It was an object of
some delqription. several aces (.IStflDt, and so
dimly visible, that it won] not have attracted
attention, had it not been in motion.

It was something alive and moving—some-
thin white.

“ an you tell what it is?" whispered the young
man.

“Not any,” replied Sam. “You stay hyur,
boyg’and I’ll go and see what the cussod thing
are.

The trapper pulled his cap down to his eye-
brows, bent his body almost double, and before
his companion could utter a word of remun-
stranr‘e against a proceeding so dangerous, he
was gliding swiftly toward the unknown object.

Scarcely was Sam out of sight, when the clear
report of his rifle rung out w th startling effect
on the still night air. .

 

Edward caught his breath at the sound, and
took a step or two forwari, with his own gun
at his shoulder. He paused—there wasu furious
snorting and plunging, immediately followed
by the clatter of hoofs, as a number of horses
galloped away with the speed of the a ind.

Then came the sound of approachmar lootsteps,
and the next instant Sancho Sam came runnin
up as fast as his long legs could carry him, wit
his gun in his hand. His face was whiter than
usual, his lips were compressed, his eyes gleamed
like stars, and, as he stopped, panting in front
of Edward, the latter thought he had never seen
him looking so wild and flurried. '

“ Good graciOUSl man, what has happened?”

“ Nothin’ to speak of," was the husky reply.

“But you have seen something,"v§ersisted
Edward, looking steadily at him. “ but did
you shoot at?"

“ Wal, ef you’re determined to know, I’ll tell
you. See ’yur, bo , would yer b’lieve itt—it
was them we see’d. ’

“ I don’t understand.”

“I war clus to ’em. I see’d ’em as plain as I
see you now." ‘

“ Who are you talking about?”

“ The Specter Riders. ’

“ Heavens! did you see them?” . '

“ Did 1? Lord bless you, 1 war right onto
’em ’fore I knowed it,” said the trapper, begin-
ning to talk more freely.

“ And the moving object we saw was one of
the Specter Riders ’

“ That’s jist exactly what it war, and I rule’-
late they war hangin’ round hyur fur no good.
They wanted to sperrit us 011’ in our sleep, that's
what I’m thinkin .”

“ You shot at them?” -
"‘”Yas, but I hardly knowed what I was d

“ Without effect, of course?”

“ Good Lord! I might as well have shot at a
whirlwind. But I reckon it did some good,
though, ’cause it skeered the blasted things
away. Waghl they’re easy skeered, ef bullets
can’t hurt ’em."

As a matter of course there was no more sleep
for the trailers that night, for both were so thor-
oughly awakened and excited by what had oc-
curred that they felt as though they never again
would feel the need of sleep.

About an hour after the event which had
aroused them from their slumbers, the hunters
were sitting on the bank of the stream, with
their blankets wrapped closely around them, to
ward of! the chilly night air, while they kept up
an unremitting watch for danger. '

They were discussing the duties of the mor-
row, and comparing opinions as to the probable
distance that must he traveled before the ter-
minus of the trail could be reached. All at
once, while Edward was speaking the trapper
grasped his arm roughly, checking his utterance
in the middle of a sentence.

Edward turned toward him in surprise.

“ What do you hear now?" he asked, observ-
ing that Sam was bending forward in a listen-
ing attitude.

“ Listen, and you’ll hear it yerself,” was the

r l .
eggs youngmandroppedhis ear close to the

in

 

 

Rowenay. ....-w4g§a‘_.w.;y,.n;fhflgv Mer Mr _«..,~_4_ “Vb-u—«n <-:r~-« ma» v A

Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

ground, in imitation to the scout’s position, and  Now they came in view—rushing up like the

listened intently.

Far away in the northwest, he heard a low,
deep rumbling, like that caused by a volcanic
eruption, scarcely audible as yet, but growing
more and more distinct every moment, as if a
fearful tornado were rushing upon them.

He raised his head and looked at Sam.

“ What is it?" he asked, in astonishment.

“ Can’t yer guess?" returned Sam.

Edward reflected a moment.

“ It can be hardly be thunder,” he said, mus-

inglfi. I
“ sh! do yer see any clouds in that direc-
tion?" ,

“ Not the trace of a cloud, therefore it is not
thunder. One might think it was caused by
myriads of chariots running races on a remote

art of the globe— Ah! now I know what it is.
by did I not think of that before? It: is a herd
of buffalo."

“ Now you’ve got it,” said Sam, with his low
laugh. “ Now you've got it as sure as shootin’.
It is a herd of buifalo.” ’

“And an immense herd, too,” said Edward,
emphatically, as he continued to listen.

“ You’re talkin’ tacks now, youngster.”

“ And it is coming this way.”

‘1 Jist as test as it kin travel.”

“ Good Heaven I” exclaimed Edward, rising
to his feet: “ are we not in a dangerous pos1~
tioni"

. Sim also rose, and stood beside his compan-

ion.

“ Wal. of this crick warn’t hyur,” he re lied,
” we’d find it needcessary to turn tail an git,
fur the sake of our lives. The bufllers are com—

rin’from the northwest, and ’tnin’t likely they’ll

cross the crick ’fore they git hyur, so I reckon
we’re safe in holdin’ our ground, ef. thar ain’t
none on this side.”
“ Sn pose they should make an abrupt turn,
when t ey are exactly opposite and cross?”
“No danger of that. Et they kin help it,
bufflers won’t cross a river while they’re on the

n. ’

All this time the (lee rumbling had grown
louder and louder, unti it culminated in an aw-
ful. tremendous roar, that could be likened to
nothing but perpetual thunder. Steadily, swift-
ly, the vast herd came rushing on, taking in :1
stretch of prairie more than a mile wide from
flank to flank, and it seemed the terrible noise
WtEild never cease to increase.

lward’s pony became frightened and he was
compelled to hold him, while Sancho Sam fol-
lowed the example by grasping the lariat by
which his mare was tot cred, although the an-
cient creature continued to crop the grass as
unconcerned as if nothing was capable of dis—
turbing her equanimity.

It was now evident that the buflaloes were all

r on the opposite side of the stream and the situa—
, 1 tion of the hunters was by this means deprived
of all dau er. No one who has never seen these-

immense roves of buffaloes in motion can have
but a slight conception of the awful grandeur of
the scene. and when it occurs on a moonlight

» night, with the entire mass moving at a full

figllop, it is doubly interesting, provided it can
viewed from a safe standpoint.

 

sweep of a. vast tidal-wave—countless thousands
pressed together 1!] one compact body—surging
on like the storm-troubled billows of the ocean.
Our friends watched the scene in silence. The
opposite side of the stream, from the margin to
the furthest point attainable by the eye, was a.
dark sea of bodies rolling swiftly by. Tney
looked north, south and west. Nothing but a
black, bellowing, roaring, thundering mass met
their gaze, flowing on with irregular undula-
tions. Once or twice some unfortunate was
pushed into the river, and then his frantic
floundering was mingled with hoarse bellowing,
till he scrambled out and was once more hurled
onward by the livmg tide. .

At length the entire herd had passed. lts
hindmoet members dashed out of sight, and
some minutes later the thunder of their boots on
the hard turf died away in the distance.

 

CHAPTER X.
THE LOST TRAIL.

FOR some moments after the buffaloes had
passed from view, and even after the din they
created was no longer to be heard, old Sancho
Sam maintained a solemn silence, standing as
motionless and apparently as speechless as a
statue, his chin resting on his bands, which were
clasped over the muzzle of his gun, and a frown
as dark as a thunder-cloud corrugating his
brow.

“ What- ails you?” asked Edward, as soon as
the frowning silence of his companion struck
him as an indication of new vexations.

Sum shifted his position, looked at the young
man, and then shook his head with an astonish-
ing degree of solcmnity.

“ It’s a ban go, youngster," said be.

“What is :1 bad go?"

“ Why, that bnfflcr rampage, in course.”

“ I don’t understand.”

“ Yer mought by a little cogitatin‘.”

“ What have the buffaloes done to discourage
you?

“ Durn it, boy, have you forgot what we’re
liyur fur?” '

“ Of course not.” laughed Edward. “ We are >

in pursuit of our friends’ captors.”

“ We]. don’t the trail cross this Crick?”

E lwal‘d gave a quick start.

“Now, I know what you mean,” he said.
; The, trail has been obliterated by the buffalo

err.

“Th-ir’s whnr the bug lays,” returned the
trapper. “Them cussed bufllers have out the
‘arth all to pieces on t’other side of the crick.
and we mought as well try to hail the ocean out
with a holler tooth, as to 100k fur the trail over
thnr. We’re stuck, that’s jist as plain as the
dirt on an Injun’s phiz.”

“But we can pass over the tract of land
trampled by the buffaloes, and take up the trail
beyond that. We may be able to find it
again.” .

“Yas; we mought be able to find anaerlle
in a hay-stack, but it’s powerful onsart’in.
After travelin’ over ’bout two miles of kentry

’tzu‘n’t noways. likely we kin pick up the tra'

 

 

 

 

 

 

l
l
l
w
,r

 

Sancho Sam‘s Shot. 15

 

ag’in. That’s no tellin’ which course the skunks
tuck arter leavin’ the river.”

“ But you do not contemplate turning back?”

“ Waghl yer knows me bettern that,
youngster.”

“In heaven’s name, then, what are your in—
tentions?"

“Don‘t git excited, Edward. Thar’s plenty
of time 'twixt this and mornin’ to hold a con-
fab on the subject. ’Tain’t plain to me yit
what we‘re goin' to do, but ’tain’t goin’ to take

- this wolf long to make up his mind—you kin

fotch up yer bottom nugget on that. Hyur’s
what‘s been in predickiments ’fore to night, and
nobody knows better‘n you—”

“ That Sancho Sam’s cunning is surpassed by
none on the plains,” said Edward, finishing the
sentence in consonance with his own mind. “ I
am anxious to hear what you have to say.”

The two men now entered into an earnest
conversation, which lasted for several minutes,
and the result of the brief deliberation was a
decision suggested in the beginning by Sam.

On the approach of dawn they were to cross
the stream, and then, instead of continuing
their westward course, they were to turn to the
southwest. Followinfg this direction, both knew
that after a ride 0 some fifteen miles, they
would find themselves in the most broken coun-
try to be found anywhere on the plains, where
huge rocks, towering cliff, intricate passes,
gorges, canyons and caverns abounded. Sam’s
reason for ro ing this direction was a belief
that Turk y’s hiding-place was someWhere
among the “ breaks,” and that the captors of
Colonel Howarth and Marian— who ever they
might be—were employed by Redby.

‘ Have you given up the opinion that the
Speciter Riders are the captors?” inquired Ed—
war .

“ Not by a long shot,” was the reply.
“ Then you think those mysterious rovers are
in Redby s employ?”

“I does.”

“Still you think they are spirits, and he a
mortal?" '

“ Never anything more sart’in. Lord bless
you, boy, I b’lieve the dis‘pearance of them
three men war caused by these same skeletons,
and that they were directed to do it by that
outlaw.”

“You think their disappearance, also, is to
be attributed/to him i”

The trapper turned square upon the young
man, and said: .

“See ’yur, lad, I reckon as how you recol-
lects when the kurnel had Turk Redby punished
at the whippin’-postl"

“ To be sure.”

“ We], do yer mind who done the whippin’?”

Edward looked down at the ground to think.
Inamoment he raised his eyes quickly, and
gave vent to a prolonged whistle of surprise.

“I remember now,” he said, excitedly. “ The
three men appointed to whip the villain were
those who are now missing—Dean Potter,
Simon Dawes and Joe Crampton!”

“ That‘s it,” said .Jam, coolly. “ Now of

ou’ll think ag‘in, maybe you’ll recollect how he
rocked at them tellers, when he swore we should
all hear from him ag‘in?”

 

“ I do—this, I firmly believe, is a solution to
the mystery enshrouding their disappearance. I
did not think of it before.”

“I guess nobody thought of it, ’cept me,”
observed Sam, “else they’d been sort in that
Turk Redby war the man to blame.”

“ Still, you will not believe that Turk Redby
did the work himself?”

“Wagh! he couldn’t make ’em vanish that
way—nobody but sperrits could do that. He
controls the sperrits. Now hyur’s the horns]
and the gal—they’ve gone the same route—-
skeletons done it, in course, but the done it at
that skunk’s command. He wants arian, you
know. fora wife, and I reckon he’ll slit the
kurnel’s weasand, ’cause he war the one as
ordered the floggin’ to be did. Look—it‘s gittin'
kinder light over thar in the east.”

The eastern sky gave evidence that day was
breaking, and, hastily kindling a fire, the
hunters prepared their simple morning meal,
allowing themselves but little time to dispatch
1

Before the sun had risen they mounted their
animals and crossed the river, which, at this
point, was shallow enough to render crossing a
matter of no inconvenience whatever. It was a
beautiful morning; the air was clear, the sky
cloudless, and the temperature cool, but invigo—
rating. A stillness like that of the tomb brood-
ed over all, and nothing could be heard save that
indescribable voice of the solitude, frequently
termed the breathing of nature, which makes
the very silence seem audible. v

0n reaching the west bank of the stream, the
men paused to 10ok about them. The ground
was scarred by thousands upon thousands of
buffalo—tracks, which demolished what little

rass there had been, and left dust instead.

orth and south the prairie extended beyond
the reach of human eyes, and to the west it grew
billowy, the waves rising one above another till
they grew imperceptible in the distance.

Our trailers were about to ride on, when all at
once Sam gave utterance to a startled ejacula-
tion, and again tightened the rein.

“ Look!” exclaimed he. “Look, youngster !”

He lifted his hand and pointed down the river.

Edward looked in that direction, and saw the
cause of the old scout’s alarm. About a half-
mile below the point where they had crossed, a,
peninsular sand-bar extended from the shore al—
most to the center of the stream. On this bar
were three horsemen, all side by side, and sit‘

, ting erect in their saddles. having ridden out

there evidently for the purpose of letting their
horses drink, since the latter all had their hoses
to the water. It required only one look to iden-
tify them. They were the S ter Riders.
Even at the distance of a halt-mi e this fact was
distinguishable, the purit of the atmosphere
assisting the eyesight. hey were not so far
away but that the naked, shining bones could
be seen, to say nothing of the white sheet that
was wrapped carelessly around every one of the '
fleshless figures.

When the animals had quenched their thirst,
they turned about and walked back to the main-
an .

Here, as if their masters exercised no control
over them, they began to move slowly hither

i
l
i
.‘
.
i

 

 

18 Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

and thither, as if searchin for grass. The
Specters sat like stoics on their backs, apparent-
ly paying no attention to each cther, nor to
anything, allowing the brutes to take their Own
course.‘

Presently one of the horses threw up his head,
flung his heels into the air, ave vent to a loud
neigh, and dashed away at t is top of his speed.
The others followed his example, and all went
scouring over the prairie together.

In a few minutes they sunk out of sight be-
yond a distant ridge.

CHAPTER XI.

» THE WAR-PATH.

SANCKO SAM stroked his gray beard and
scowled.

“ Things is gittin’ too counfounded m stiflca-
tious to suit this b’ar,” said he, still 100 ing to—
ward the spot where the Specter Riders were
seen a few moments a o.

“ It is very strange, ’ assented Westlake.

“ Them spooks is follerin’ us,” declared Sam.

“ Indeed! I thought we were following them,”
returned Edward. “ You can hardly believe
now that those singular fellows are the captors
of Marian and her father?”

“ Sirt’in I believe it. Dang it, boy, they ain’t
human bein’s, as has to poke around over the
keiitry like we do. They kin travel jist as fast
or as slow as they please. In course they’ve tuck
3E8 prisoners to urk Redby’s den, and left ’em
t or.

Edward smiled. In his mind the Specter
Riders Were in no manner concerned in the cap-
ture of Marian and her father, nor in the disap-
pearance of the men who had gone before.

“Wal. let’s be off, kumrid,’ said the trap er,
as he glanced back over his shoulder. “ he
sun’s comin’ up, and we hain’t made no tizne yit.
Come, Sarah J ane!"

They turned their faces toward the southwest,
and struck into an easy gallop across the hoof-
trodden plain. Mile after mile they kept
their animals at a steady, monotonous gait,
except when the were compelled to pass through
a prairie~dog ‘ town," where the ground was

erforate:l with innumerable holes, made by

base little inhabitants of the plains. Through
such treacherous places they were prompted y
prudence to move slowly.

Nothing more was said on the subject of the
Specter Riders, though their thoughts were
about squall divide 1 between them and the
captives. E ward grew restless and impatient
when he thought 0 Marian in Turk Redby’s
power, and his constant fear was that they
would be too late to save her.

“ If she‘s alive,” he said to himself, “I will
rescue her from so loathsome a on tivity, or lay
down my own life in the eflort. f she is dead
or dishonored, my revenge will be terrible in—
deed.”

His eyes flashed, and his fln are closed invol-
untarily upon his rifle, as he bought of what
the villain’s depravity might drive him to do.

After awhile, as they were riding along in
silence, Sancho Sam suddenly sto ped his mare.
Unable to see the slightest causa or such an act,
Edward also drew rein, and looked in uiringly
at the trapper. Sam, however, had is face

 

turned the other way, looking at something in
that direction.

Off to the right of their path, at a distance nl‘
about fifty yards. was a buffalo-wallow—a huge
basin in the earth, measuring, perhaps, twelve
feet in diameter, and in shape almost round.
Such places as this, made by buffaloes, and used
by them chiefly in the spring of the year, are
frequently seen on the vast plains east of the
Rocky Mountains. Generally they are cf suf-
ficient depth to be made use of by white hunters

when iursued by Indians, and indeed many a. 7

successful resistance has been made against 9
large band of savages, by parties taking refuge
behind an earthwork of this description.

It was this buffalo—wallow that had attracted
the trapper’s attention. Wondering how an ob
ject of so little importance could have caused
him to halt, Edward asked:

“What now, Sam?”

Sam turned to his interrogator. There was
an ex ression on his rugged visage, which Ed-
ward ad seen a score of times before, and the
import of which he instantly recognized. It
told as plainly as words that there was danger
at hand. Our hero dropped the reins and seized
his rifle.

“ What is it, Sam?” he asked again.

“’Sh!” cautioned the scout, raising his hand.
“ Thar’s sunkthin’ in that waller over then"

“ Do you know what it is?" inquired the
young manhlooking in vain for the “ sunkthin’ ”
mentioned.

“ No.” was the reply, “ I don’t. I only ketchl
ed a glimpse of some dark thin , but I s’picion
that’s reds hid thar. J ist loo at that mud
down thar in front of you; don’t you see them
moccasin-tracks?”

“I (lo-and they are fresh.”

“ J ist so. Thar’s Injuns somewhai' nigh, and
elf Ilgin’t powerful mistook— Hellol look yen.
( er. .

At that moment a dark, colossal form rose
into view from behind the rim of the wallow,
and walked deliberately out on the level land,
where it stopped and looked at the hunters.

Edward threw his head back, and burst into
a hearty laugh.

“ An old uifalo hull!” exclaimed he, “and
you, one of the oldest hunters on the border,
thought it was a party of red-skins."

The trapper was vexed.

"Hold yer clapper, boy,” he commanded, per-
emptorily, “and wait till yer knows which one
of us is right. I thought you‘d seen too many
Injun tricks to be tuck in by this ’un.”

These words had the effect of checking Ed-
ward’s mirth. He became grave in an instant,
as he took a second look at the creature. .

J ust then the liuflalo, ap arcntly alarmed by
the sight of the men, turne about and made as
if he would reenter the wallow.

“ No yer don’t, old bull!” muttered Sam, rnis-
ing his gun. “ Yer don’t git this coon to follei'
ye. Thar—take that!" ' .

The report of his rifle accompanied these last
words.

There was a shriek, loud and unearth] v. The
buffalo staggered forward, and pitched head-
]on to the ground, turning wrong—side out as
he elll Quick as thought a half-naked Indian

mu.

 

 

g I
a.

 

 

 

3...... _ ,- V ,

Sancho Sam’s Shot. 15’

 

jumped up and darted into the wallow, where
he vanished like a streak of lightning; while
another remained lying outside, weltering in his
blood.

The artifice employed by the Indians on this
occasxon was an old one. Probably desiring to
capture the whites, instead of killing them, two
savages had disguised themselves in a buffalo-
hide, the trophy of a. recent chase, and had
made an effort, as it seemed, to draw the hun-
ters nearer. The trapper’s unerring aim had
sent one of the maskers to render up hls final
account, while the other had fled to shelter be-
fore a second shot could be fired.

Crack! crack! crack! went several rifles at
this juncture. and the bullets whistled by our
friends, uncomfortably close to their persons.
At the same moment a deafening war—whoop
rent the air, and four athletic savages leaped
from their covert and rushed tower their in-
tended victims, brandishing their weapons over
their headsand yelling like madmen.

Edward’s ny was shot.' He saw his head
drop, and fet him falling. With astonishing
quickness he disengaged his feet from the stir-
rups and jumped, just as the poor little mustang
fell, quivering in the agonies of death. Then
his rifle leaped to his shoulder and covered an
enemy. The trigger fell, and the foremost sav—
age dropped in his tracks.

With vengeful shrieks the remaining three
rushed upon the man who had slain theirleader,
and for a moment it seemed that Edward’s doom
was sealed. But with a celerity that was p‘ecu-
liarly his own, the trapper wasd0wu from Sarah
Jane‘s hack in a twinkling, and his gaunt person
interposed between his friend and enemies. His
gun was empty, but he grasped it by the barrel
with both hands, dealt one tremendous blow
with the heavy stock, and an Indian’s brains
were scattered to the four winds. The gun fell
from his hands, and, snatching his knife from
his belt, he sprung upon another of the assail-
ants. There was a gleam of steal, a piercing
cry, a faint struggle and another spirit was
freed from its earthly tenement.

Only one Indian remained alive. The last they
saw of him be was about a mile away, running
with wonderful velocity, with no prospect as yet
at an abatement in his speed.

“Wal, youngster.” said Sam, coolly. “ I
reckon we’re boss of the situation. ain’t we?”

“I believe we are," replied Edward, with
glowing face. “Sam, I’ve seen you fight In-
dians before to-day, but I never saw you kill
two, with a change of weapons, in so short a
space of time.”

“ Did rub ’em out kinder Spry-like,” the tarp-
per replied, with a careless glance at his vic-
tims. “They’ll know better‘n torun ag’in’ us
another time, won’t they Edward? “'e knock-
ed the breath out of four on ’em in less’n two
minutes. Devil take the skunks, they’ve got
thar fingers in the wrong man’s ha’r, when they
try to come the hufller trick over Sancho Sam.
Wal,” he added, after a pause, “we mought as
well be movin’ on. Don’t keer ’bout stuyin’
hyur longer than needcessary.”

“ There is no likelihood of me moving on,”
said Edward, “unless I go afoot. Those
wretches have killed my horse.”

 

 

“ Is be dead?"

“ Dead as a door-nail.”

Sam bent over the lifeless pony.

“Got his checks, sure’s shootin’.” he said.
“ Shot right through the upper story.”

“ l sigpose that ball was meant for me,” ob
served dward.

“ Not of I knows anything about it," declar~
ed the other. “ It‘s too well aimed fur that. I
guess the cusses wanted to captur’ us.”

He leaned on his rifle, and looked at the dead
mustang with a. thoughtful air.

“It’s a bad 20, youngster,” said he, with a
shake of his head. “ How we’re to git another
boss, is beyond my guess. I opine it can’t he
did. I reckon the only thing we kin do is to
ride Sarah June by turns. Helloi look at that!
Thar’s a boss!"

A little distance from where they stood,
strange to say, a horse made its appearance.
careering over the prairie. It was a beautiful
creature, white as the driven snow, with long
tail and mane, and proudly arching neck.

“ My Godl” cried Edward, turning pale; “it
is Cherokee 1” ’

 

CHAPTER XII.
TEE WRITING IN BLOOD.

AND he was right. Beyond a doubt it was no
other than the handsome steed, Cherokee, rider~
less though he was, and unin< umbered by saddle
or bridle.

“It’s him, or I’m a huzzard!” ejaculated the
traBpper, fastening his keen orbs upon him.
“ e‘s turned into a wild hoes ag’in. By the
Lord! it makes things look mighty s'picious to
see him canterin’ all by hisself."

“He left the fort with Marian on his back,”
said Edward, trembling with excitement, “and
now he is alone. His up) earance at this moment
suggests a horrible thought.”

‘ Call him, youngster.”

Edward put his fingers to his mouth, and gave
vent to a peculiar whistle. Instantly Cherokee
came to a halt, and looked at the two men with
ears ere-ct.

His master repeated the whistle. It v as suf-
ficient; the recognition was complete new, and
witha joyful neigh the white steed sh00k his
flowing mane, and came trotting toward his
young master with a look of extraordinary in-
telligence.

Our hero went forward to meet him. With a
low whinny, that expressed his joy as well as
words, Cherokee came up and laid his head
on the young man’s shoulder, while the latter
patted his snowy neck,- and smoothed the long
mane.

All at once Edward sprung back as if the
horse’s touch bad poisoned him, and gave utter-
ance to a loud exclamation. His cheek blanched,
his lower jaw dropped, and he dashed his hnnd
across his eyes, as if inclined to believe they had
deceived him. He looked at Sancho Sam, ard

pointed at the horse, as though he were dumb, - '

and had to communicate by signs. A few strides
of those long, dangling legs, and Sam was hesnie
his companion. .

‘_‘ What’s the matter, boy?” he asked, 1n sur- _
prise. ' A
Edward again pointed at the ho
...

 

 

 

 

 

18 Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

“Look,” said he, “and you will see what is
the matter.”

Sam looked, and he saw. He also started
back, and cried, “Good Lord I” while his eyes
flew open to their widest extent. ,

No wonder, for on the smooth, white side of
the horse, written in red, and in lar e, dis-
tinct characters, was the single word, “ ELPl”
That was all. Not another mark could be
found anywhere on the animal’s velvet coat,
but that one word," traced, as it evidently had
been, with blood, was terribly significant in
itself. It could be explained only in one way.
It wasa message from Marian or her father,
who had resorted to this means. in the absence
of all others, to inform their friends that they
were in a dangerous position, and desired assist-
ance.

Edward shuddered as he looked at it.

“ Their need of help must be great,” said he,
“if they used their own blood—as they undoubt-
edly did—in writing this brief petition. Poor
Marian! poor Marian!"

“Cheer up, boy!” said Sam, who felt that
the duty of a consoler was incumbent on
him. “ This ain’t no time to give up. You
ought to be kinder glad that this thing has hap-
pened.”

“ And why. pray?”

“In the fu’st place, it shows they’re lucky
enough to be still alive; in the second place, it
provides you with a boss at the very time you
need it most—”

“ And in the third place,” interrupted Ed ward,
With a smile, “ the fact that Cherokee comes.
from the souihwest, proves that you were right
in choosing this direction.“

“ Jist so.” V -

The saddle and bridle were taken from the
deadv pony, and put upon Cherokee.

“We'll jist leave these carkidges whar they
be," said Sam, “ and of the wolves and vultures
kin find any pleasure in sich rotten food, they’re
welcome. We hain’t got time to Put the skunks
under round, and I’m doubtin’ e they’d benefit
by it e we had.”

They mounted, and turned their backs on the
sickening scene, Edward, for one, being glad
to leave it. Continuing in the same course they
had pursued since leavmg their camping-place
of the preceding night, they urged their animals
into a swift and steady canter, toward the rug-
ged, rock led as that loomed up in the south—
western s y. ith Cherokee between his knees,
Edward felt more at home, and more hopeful
than he had felt since leaving F'ort Binkley, but
whenever he thought of the fair burden the

faithful steed had carried away from the fort,

he felt his blood growing cold, with an almost
be] less dread.

him there was something terrible in that
laconic message—that one word. “HELP!”
written with blood on the horse’s sides-and
there was no relief for the [painful suspense he
agiliured, as long as it shoul remain unexplain-
a e.
As they neared the breaks. they found their
way growing exceedingly difficult to travel, and
in consequence they were compelled to move
slowly, and with great care. Both animals
Were surefooted, and showed that they Were

 

accustomed to journeying through mountainous
regions; so there. was little fear, though some
danger at times, of falling from high places.

They struck a. buffalo-trail, which they fol-
lowed implicitly, conscious from experience that
by this method they would be enabled to pass
diflicult places in safety, and with a certainty
of soon being led into a smoother road. They
were almost encompassed by high, perpendicu-
lar cliffs of black trap-rock, and far above them
shapeless, jagged masses were piled up to a
dizzy hight, almost reaching the clouds. At
first, as they proceeded, they were kept con-
stantly on the ascent, but at len th, still allow-
ing themselves to be guided by t e buffalo-trail,
they began to go down.

Dark crevices, deep descents, and narrow,
sinuous paths, winding around rocks at an ap-
pallin distance from the ground below, were
passe over in safety, though with great pains
and skill; and several times the riders found it
necessary todismount and lead their animals.
The latters’ feet, however, could be trusted
where their own could not, and they kept their
saddles most of the time. '

Presently they emerged into a deep canyon,
presenting a smooth, unbroken floor, as far as
they could see. It was but little past the mid-
dle of the day, and yet it was gloomier than
twilight in the canyon.

The latter was narrow, and on eit‘ er hand
the vast walls towered toward the sky, coming
so nearly together at the top, that little light
was admitted to the depths below.

“ We], hyur we be,” muttered the trapper,
raining in his mare, and turning her half-
aroun .

“ Surely you do not intend to halt here?” said
Edward, with a smile. “We are no better off
as yet than when we started.”

“ We ain’t goin’ to halt, but I reckon we
mought as well do that as move on. Our friends
and tha’r captors may be miles from this p’int,
and it looks mightin like a wild-goose chase to
hunt ’em among these bills and clifi’s.”

“ Didn’t you think of that before we entered
the breaks?"

“ Sart’in, but thar was no help fur it.”

“ We might have found the trail and followed
it, and thus entered at the point they did.”

“ Precious little trail we’d ’a’ found among
them rocks, I take it. The Specter Riders
know what they’re doin’.”

“ Pshaw!” exclaimed Edward, impatiently,
“ I wish you would give up the idea that the
Specter Riders are the captors.”

“ We], then, s’poSe it’s Turk Redby; he ain’t
green.”

“ You think he has anticipated pursuit?”

“ In course."

“And took the precaution to hide the trail as
he neared his den?”

“ He ain’t sharp of he didn’t. “ It ’u’d be the
easiest thing in the world kiverin’ a trail in this
rocky region.”

“ What else do you think?”

“ I think they come in by the same route we
did. 1 think we’re follerin’ in tha’r tracks.”

“ Indeed?”

“ Yes, but thar’s no sartaiut about it.”

“ Aha! what’s this?” sudden y cried Edward,

 

,5:

 

 

 

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot. 19

 

jumping down from his horse’s back, and dart-
inglforward a few steps.
9 pausod, stooped, and picked up something
that was lying on the ground.
“What’s to pay now?” asked the trapper, in
sur rise.
dward approached, holding something up to
view, with an air of triumph. It was a locket—
a small. golden locket, with a hook attached,
which was evidently the remnant of a chain.
“ Did you find that, boy?” asked Sam, getting
down from his mare’s back, to look at the trin-

et.
1 “ To be sure I did,” replied the other, joyous—
y.

“ And did you ever see it store?”

“A hundred times! It is the property of
Marian Howe rtb.”

“ Sure’s shootin’?”

“There can be no mistake. She has Often
showed it to me, and told me how highly she
valued it, above everything else. This locket
contains the picture of her mother, who is
dead.”

He opened it, and showed the picture to Sam.

“Wal,” said the scout, “that proves we’re
on the ri ht track, and I reckon it won’t be long
’fore we nd Redby’s den. They’ve passed this
way, that’s settled, and now we’ve got to push
right on. keep our liespers peeled, and be as
cautious as we kin. f we should blunder onto
‘em, a couple of shots would settle our bash in
the flap of a buzzard’s wing, and one man
mought give us them at he kotched us nappin’.
We must go slow. Maybe Redby haint got
nobody to back him, and maybe he has. Ef so,
I  they’re mortals. Foller me, and be
quie .

They mounted once more, and rode silently on
through the deep, gloomy gorge.

CHAPTER XIII.
AMONG THE BREAKS.

ALL at once Sancho Sam, who was some
yards in advance came to a dead halt. Edward
did the same, an sat looking at him, waiting to
be told the cause of the halt. Sam was gazing
upward.

Instead of looking back, the trapper was seen
to raise his rifle’ and point it toward the sky, as
it about toshoot something on the rocks above.

Our hero waited for the report, but it didn’t
come. After holding it to his shoulder for a
full minute, the trapper lo“ ered his gun, and as
if undecided.

Then, turning in his saddle, he directed his
companion, by a motion of his hand, to ap-
proach. The young hunter rode forward, and
in a moment was beside the other.

“ Did you see enemies?" he whispered.

” No,’ was the answer, “didn’t see a human
bein’, nor any thing to be afeard on. Look—
rlon’t yer see that little animal ’way u thar to—
’ards the top of the cliff? Thar! di ye see it
move?”

He was pointing. Ed ward’s eyes followed the
course of his finger, and far above them, toward
the summit of the walls that hemmed them in,
he saw an object that had the appearance of a
small animal, standing on the very edge of a
projecting rock;

 

9"

 

“ oes yer see it?”

“ I do.”

" Does yer know what ’tis?”

“If I could have the advantage of a little
daylight I think I would have no hesitation
in pronouncing its name,” replied the young
man, continuing to look, “but as it is, Ican
only guess. I believe. however, that it is a
Rocky Mountain goat.”

“That’s jist what it is,” returned Sam, smil-
ing. “When I fu’st see’d him I thought I’d
fotch him down fur dinner, but as soon as I
drawed head on the cuss I changed my mind. I
thought the shot mou ht be heard by somebody
as had no bizness to hear it, so I concluded to
let the goat live.”

“ I thought,” began Edward, “ that you—”

He stopped abruptly, and his eyes dilated.
The cause of the interruption was the crack of a
rifle, very distinct yet seemingly far away. It
echoed and re-echoed among the cliffs and can-
yons around them, causing the horses, as well as
themselves, to prick up their ears with a startled
air.

The hunters exchanged looks, as if with the
expectatmn of reading the explanation in each
other’s face. Before a single Word could be ut-
tered, however, they were startled afresh by
the sound of a body rushing through 1119 air,
and a dull thump as it struck the ground close
at hand!

They looked down. There at their horses’
feet la the dead body of the goat—the very
goat w ich they had been looking at but a no-
ment before, as it stood on the projecting rock
far above thrm. An instant ago it was alive
and thoughtless of danger; now it was silent in
death, crushed and bleeding from its long fall.
For a few seconds both were at a loss to
know how this had happened, but for no
longer. ‘

“He’s shot," said Sam, bending over his
mare’s neck to look more closely at ihe goat.
“ He’s shot right through the noddle. Ef you’ll
look clus, you kin see whar the bullet hit him.”

“ I see,” replied the other. “ He is shot, and
obviously by no other weapon than that whose
report we just heard.”

“ Good erd! Look l”

Just ti en it ill ull dark figure darted into
View, from behind a gigantic rock at Si me dis:
tance from where the goat had fallen, and came
bounding toward them with a gun in hand.

Suddenly the figure stopped. It saw the two
horseman standing silently there in the pass,
and it recoiled with an ap earance of the at»
most alarm. Then it whee ed as quick as light-
ning, and started to fly from the strange inhu-
ders. But nothing could have been quicker
than the movements of the trapper at that
moment. His long rifle lea ed to his shoulder,
as if it were endowed with it's, and covered the
figure with a. deadly aim. ‘

“Halt!” he thundered, and his stcntorian
voice rung through the gorge with startling
distinctness. “Halt, you little imp, or you’re
melatfur the wolves in the switch of a nule’s
tai !

The “little imp” did ause, and glance back
with a terrified air. hen he ran on No or
three steps further, stopped again, turned square

.1.
{i
i.
i:
i
s.
9:

 

 

 

mv ' maw- mnmw—naegsxamavérsrvm-emzy,“ A

20 Sancho Sam’s Shot. _

around and stood stock still, with his face to‘
ward the trapper.
“ Come hyur,” commanded the trapper, stern-

Y- r

The figure hesitated—took one step—and hesi—
tated again.

“Strut this way!” cried Sancho, “ or may I
be shot myself ef I don’t put a loophole cl’ar
through you.”

It was enough. The diminutive goataslayer
seemed to regard implicit obedience the part of
prudence on this occasion and he approached
without further hesitation.

“ By heaven 1" exclaimed Edward, as the fel-
low came near, “it is the Indian dwarf, Solo-
monl”

“ Waghl I knowed it when he fu’st came in
sight- ” said Sam, lowering his gun. “That’s
why I stopped him.”

It was, indeed, Solomon. His ugly weazen
face expressed nothing but terror and conscious
guilt, and the angry looks bestowed upon him
by the white hunters were not calculated to put
his tortured mind at rest. Ashe came up, he
glanced furtively from one to the other, and
then looked down at the goat without a word.

“ Did you kill that goat?" asked the old scout,
gruffly.

The Indian nodded without looking up.

The trapper regarded him for awhile in
silence. and then, with an angry frown, de-
m‘anded:

l “QXVhat are you in this part of the kentry
ur

“Me live here now,” said Solomon, attempt-
ing to put on a bold face.

f 390, eh? What did you leave Fort Binkley
ur ,

“ Ugh! me no like to live dere. Like pale—
l‘aoes much—like wild life better. Like de prai-
ries-like mountains—like much hunt—no like
to be tame. Waghl"

“ Give that clapper a holiday, you pesky lyin’
imp, or I‘ll clip yer skulp-locki” ejaculated the
trapper, in a rage. “ Do you s’pose you kin pull
the wool over Sancho Sam’s peepers? When
yer does, jist let me know. Got tired livin’ at
the fort, did yer? Dod rot yer hide! yer’ll want
togit back thar’fore you kin ever muster up
currldge to go. The people wouldn’t leave
enough of youto grease a baby’s ha’r, ef you’d
show yer painted mug inside them walls, and I
don’t know but I better tun yer hide a trifle,
'ist to show you what opinion I have of you.

on kin tremble now, but I opine you kin do it
with better cause ’fore long. You’re a. blasted
little traitor, and on desarve to he strung up.
The whites serv you a good turn when yer
own people kicked you out of tha’r lodges, and
this is the way you return it."

Solomon shrunk back a little at this outburst,
and looked more frightened than before.

“Lay down yer gun,” commanded the scout.

The dwarf dropped his gun without a word of
remonstrance. -

“ Ef you’ve got other weepins, throw ’em
away.”

He broughtto light a knife and a hatchet, and
cast them upon the ground with commendable
docility. .

“ Now you’re in our power,” continued Sam,

 

looking fiercely at him. “ I reckon yer knows
what we ought to do with yer? You ve turned
traitor toyer best friends, you had a hand in
the captur’ of the kurnel and his gal, and you’re
doin’ dirty work fur that blasted hell—hound,
Turk Redby."

“ No, no,” returned the Indian, hastily; “ me
nogndo work for Turk Redby. Who told you
so

“Shet upl Yer can’t fool me. ’Twar only
the day afore yesterday that you tried to carry
off Marian Howarth, and you told her then as
how Turk Redby hired you to do it. Hain’t
furgot that, have yer? I see yer hain’t, and
you’ll find out thar’s others remembers itbe—
sides you, afore we’re done with you. I s'pect
we’ll have to try the strength of this rope with
you,” concluded the trapper, looking coolly
gown at the lariat suspended at his saddle-

0W-

Solomon ceased trembling at once, drew him-
self up to his fullest hight and folded his arms
over his chest. He firmly believed that his time
had come—that his captors would show no
mercy whatever in the infliction of his unish-
ment—that death, in the horrible form 0 hang-
ing by the neck, was to be administered to him
—-and he immediately assumed that air of stoical
indifference, proverbial with his race. He was
outwardly calm, but his thin lips were com-

pressed, and his black, snake-like orbs gleamedr

with an unnatural brightness.
Sancho Sam could not repre a smile.

“Are you ready to kick the bucket?” he asks "

ed.
“ Solomon never ’fraid to die,” was the hearty
reioinder.

‘Boshl you’re skeered cl’ar out of yer wits.
Tell me you’re not afeard to die. We], it’s the
natur’ of reds to put on airs when the time comes
to turn up thar toes, though I’ll sw’ar every one
on ’em is cowards. Afore we stretch yer jug-
gler, howsomever, you may jist tell us whar
Redby and the captives are.”

Solomon smiled contemptuously.

“ Nebber tell dat,” he said, firme .

“Cut yer throat, of you don’t.”

“ Sooner be throat out than hang.”

Sam laughed quietly, for, to tell the truth, his
mind was made up how he should act at the first
appearance of Solomon, and had been talking of
revenge and punishment merely to frighten the
traitor. Having proceeded to an extremity in
that strain, he now became serious.

“See hyur, Injun,” he began. sliding out of
his saddle and standing before the dwarf, “ you-
’ll do well to pick yer ears now, fur I’ve got a
proposition to make. I reckon you’d ruther live
than die?" ‘

The savage brightened up, and listened eager-

y.

“ I take it fur settled that you’d rather live
than die,” pursued the scout. “ Now, of you’ll
tell whar Turk Redby is, whar Colonel Howarth
and the gel is, and how many asmstants the out-
law has got, we’ll let you go soot-free.”

“ No kill?” asked the Indian, excited] .

“ Won’t hurt you,” was the amp tic re-
sponse.

KI Good I”

“ You agree, then?”

 

j._. V—‘u ‘

‘ Ag .1.

5

- .  .. j. N. carom hum}

 

 

;
i
.
l
i

 

 

 

   

Sancho iam’s Shot. 2!

 

The Indian nodded assent.

“ All right,” said Sam. “ Git down oi! your
boss, Edward, and let’s make a dinner of this
goat, while we hear what the red-skin has to
say. We’ve got the right thread in our clutch—
es now’, and we’ll do some tall pullin’ ’fore we
letTio.

9 horses were hitched, the deepest recess in
view was selected for the fire, Whirl] was speed-
ily kindled, and the three men were soon enjoy-
ing a repast prepared from the choicest portions
of the goat.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
A DINNER PARTY INTERRUPTED.

IN consequence of Solomon’s ignorance of the
language, we will undertake to render into com-
prehenslble English the information drawn from
him by the two hunters. He gave it while they
were eating, and the whites were not nearly so
interested in the food before them as they were
in the narrator.

In the first place, according to the story here
told, Turk Redby had returned to the neighbor-
hood of Fort Binkley, both to obtain the revenge
he had sworn to have, and to steal Marian
Howarth from her home. He was accompanied
by a man named Dan S has, who was as great a
villain as Redby himse f. and it was these two
Wrote-hes, together with Solomon, who had cap-
tured Colonel Howarth and daughter on the
preceding day. As this fact was made known
to our friends, Edward gave Sam a look of
triumph, and Sam withdrew the blame which
his superstitious ideas had prompted him to set-
tle upon the Specter Riders.

It will be remembered that blood was found
by the trailers. on the spot where the attack had
been made. This had been caused b a shot
from Turk Redby, aimed at Colonel owarth
with deadly intent. The colonel had fallen
from his horse, and at first was thought to be
dead, as the blood flowed copiously from his
forehead, but an examination had shown that
be was only stunned. The bullet, instead of
penetrating the skull, had plowed its way be-
neath his scalp and Come out near the top of his
head, inflicting a ainful, but by no means
dan erous wound. e was speedily resuscitated,
his and bandaged. and was then made a pris-
oner with his dau hter.

Redby admir the white steed. Cherokee,
and was not 1013 in deciding that it should
.change laces Wit his own. But, during the

hi ht a ter reaching the den in the breaks,
Co ouel Howarth succeeded in freeing himself
from the cords that bound him. and made'an
efforts toward escape, evidently with the hope of
reachin Fort Binkley, and returning with sufil-
cient aid for the rescue of the girl. and the anni—
hilation of the desperadoos. But for his wound
he might have succeeded: as it was, on reaching
the spot Where the horses were grouped together,
he found himself too weak to mount any of
them, and rowing weaker every moment. This
was can by his wound bleeding afresh, it
having beghn without his knowledge some time
before. His senses were nearly gone. but be
conceived a sim le planawhich he hastily put
into execution. flitting his band to bus head, he

 

wet his fln ers with his own blood and wrote
the word “ elp!” in large letters on Cherokee’s
snowy side, setting the animal free, with a vague
idea that he would carry the message to his
master, and thus bring somebody to the assist-
ance of Marian and himself. He had no sooner
accomplished this than he fell fainting on the
ground.

The desperado was highly enraged by the it as
of his prize, the white charger, and beyond a
doubt would have murdered the colonel had mt
Dan SykesI his companion, interfered.

Upon being asked what the intentions of the
outlaws were regarding the prisoners, Solomon
replied that he could not say positively, but be- _
lieved that the colonel was to be put to death in
some horrible manner.

“ And Marian?" asked Edward, eagerly.

“ She no die,” returned the Indian, with a
malicious grin. “ She be de wife of Turk."

" Never, while I livel” cried Edward, vehe<
mently. ‘Abomiuable wretchl ishe harms a
hair of that innocent girl’s head, or forces her
to act contrary to her will, by Heaven he shall
suffer death for it, if it is twenty years from
now!”

“ Hyur’s a grizzly’s claw on that, youngster,”
said the trapper, earnestly as be extended his
hand, “ and 1 opine the bloody devil had better

0 under whether he hurts her or not. He’s

one enough, cuss his rotten hide, and of he
thinks he kin make a target out of the kurnel
without gittin’ his ear warped, he must be out
of his head.”

“ What shall we do?"

“ We], as to that, we’ll have to wait till we
find out whar thgy be store we do any thing.”

“ Very true. here can we find them, Solo-
men?”

“Me can‘t tell,” replied Solomon; “ me show
-—me take you to de place~me can’t tell.” .

“ You mean you haven’t snflicient command
of words to direct us to the outlaw’s abode, but
that you are ready to lead us to it? Well, that
is enough, I suppose. We shall not want to at-
tempt the rescue until after nightfall, shall we,
Sam?" -

“ No " replied the trapper, thoughtfully, as
he swa lowed the last mouthful of his dinner,
and began to fill his pipe. “ I never did b’lieve
in rushin’ matters of this sort, though I’ll sw’ar ‘
nobody’s more ag’in’ losin’ time than I be. Thar
’ll be a better show for success after dark, that’s
sart’in." - '

“ Until night, then, we will wait, and under
cover of the darkness something must be done.”

“ But," continued Sam, fastening his keen
orbs upon the Indian, “ that ain’t no use in that
cuss telliu’ us as how he can’t direct us to Redby’s
hidiu’—plnce, ’thout oin’ hisself, ’cause I know
it’s all moonshine. e kin ef he wants to, and
be sha’n’t be our guide to—night, that’s all. He
ain’t ,to be trusted. See ’yur, red-skin ygu kin
jist tell us now or not at a l, whar we’ll most
likely to find the captives, and let me remark at
this p'int that you won’t profit a great deal by
tellin’ a lie.” ,

Solomon looked somewhat confused and gazed
steadfastly at the ground before replying. _ But,
conscious that there was no help for It, be
Sal ;

 

:; if;

 m M: a;

       

‘-‘~ “2 auvaaseuxaumw

Sancho Sam’s Shot.

   
 
   

 

“ Me tell best me kin. No do good—no talk
pale-face tongue much—do best know how!"

“ No, I’ll be hanged if you do!” cried a sten-
torian voice at that moment—a voice that rung
through the gorge like the roar of a wild ani—
mal, and caused the three men to start vio-
lently, grasp their guns and glance hurriedly
around.

The sound of the voice was still in the air when
the echoes were increased by the clear crack of
a rifle near by, and a bullet flattened itself
against a rock right behind Solomon’s head,
causing that diminutive personage to shrink
into still smaller dimensions, as it seemed.

“ “Wolves and witches!” ejaculated the trap-
per, darting up to his full hight as quickly as a
serpent could uncoil itself.

He had no time to say more. While the rifle-
shot was still reverberating from clifl’ to cliff, a
shadowy figure flitted before the eyes of the
astonished trio, and vanished so quickly that
they could hydly have sworn they had seen it.

Sancho Sam was the first to move. then, like
a. dog after a. rat, he sprung forward with the
volo-ity of a racer-out of the dark recess into
the canyon—and was gone, leaving Edward and
thered dwarf sitting there alone.

Edward kept his seat, and commanded the In-
dian to do likewise. In almost speechless silence
they waited anxiously for some sound—a cry—
the report of a. rifle—~returning footsteps—any—
thing that would tell them the race was at an
end, and would give them even a slight intima-
tion of the result of Sam’s pursuit of a. shadow.
For as yet neither was convinced that what
they had seen was anything more than a
shadow. '

 

CHAPTE R XV.

A CAPTURE AND AN ESCAPE.

FULL ten minutes passed away before the
trapper returned, but when he did, it was not
alone.

They first heard the sound of his footsteps
outside, mingled with others, and his gruff.
rumbling Voice apparently addressing somebody
in short sentences. without eliciting,r a single
audible answer. Then he came in sight, and
walked straight into the recess, lea/ling u man
by the collar of his coat.

This man was it villainous-looking wretoh,
habited in half—hunter‘s costume, With glitter-
iuz, deepest eyes. low forehead. matted hair
and heavy beard. He was short and stumpy,
with nythick, bullslike neck and a. broad. hairy
breast, which was partly exposed. He was
armed to the teeth, but just now his weapons
might have been so many sticks, for all the use
they were to him, since his hands were tied
securely together behind him.

He scowled ferociously and made a slight move-
ment as if half decided to make an effort toward
assume, as his captors led him into the presence

jot Westlake and the Indian. But Sam jerked
him forward with a force that almost: hrew him
olf his feet, and ushed him rudely into the fur-
thest corner of the recess.

“Stand thar, you miser’ble wolf-cub!” he
commanded, sternly, “and take keer that

* you don’t move astep out of yer tracks, fur ef

 

you go, I’ll take it as a signal that you’re tired
of i 6.

“He warn’t hard to ketch,” added the trap-
per, turning to Edward, “ but arter I ketched
him, I’m bound to sw’ar' we had a powerful
tough wrastle ufore I could get him tied. Thar’s
muscle in his make-up, and hyur’s as thoughtl'd
met my match fur surt’in when I found him so
hard to git the upper hand of."

“ Who is he?” asked Edward, looking curious-
ly at him.

“ I axed him what his handle war two or three
times.” replied the scout, “ but I couldn’t git no
satisfaction out of him. He's as stubborn as the
man in the moon ’bout talkin’. Howsomever, I
calc’late he’s Turk Redby’s kumrid, and ef any
body knows anything ’bout it I reckon Solomon
ort to. How is it, Solomonil Ain’t this chap
Redby’s friend?”

Solomon was silent. He appearedunable to
look anybody in the eyes just then, and, as the
most natural alternative, he looked at the ground,
which had no eyes.

“ Ain’t this chap Redby’s friend?" repeated
glie scout, in a tone that made the-Indian trem-

e. .

“ Yes,” was the low reply.

“ His bundle, then, is Dan Sykes?"

H Yes.”

“ Jist as I s’pected.”

“ Curse you for a little traitor!” hissed the
prisoner, white with passion, as he looked down
upon the cringing dwarf. “ You have told them
the truth; my name is Dan Sykes. and I am
the friend of Turk Redby. I will not deny it,
but if m hands were free at this‘moment I
would ma. 8 you suffer for, this act of low cow-
ardice and treason. I heard the story as you
told it to these men, and it was I who shot at
you. My hand trembled, and the bullet missed
you, more‘s the pity; but if I could have one
more shot at your internal mug, I’m blowed if
your brain-pan wouldn’t receive its first intro-
duction to cold lead."

“ S’pose you give the red-skin a rest, and
listen to me a minute," cooll interrupted Sam.
“ You and Redby can’t b ame anybody but
yerselves fur takin’ that little cuss into yer
sarvice, ’couse you knowed when you done it
that he was a traitor to the people of Fort Bink-
lay, and he was jist as like to turn out the same,
with you. Thur ain’t no use trustin' a man
what’ll go back on his best friends fur gold, and
that’s what he done. I acknowledge he needs
more killin’ than he’ll ever get, but when yer
comes down to that, thar’s another one, less’n a
hundred miles from hyur, as stands in the same
need.”

The outlaw looked terribly ferocious;

“ Who’s that?" he demanded. shortly.

“ That are Dan Sykes," was the imperturbable
rejoinder.

The outlaw had nothing: more to say. but be
ground his teeth; his rage was at white heat.
He looked vindictivelv at Solomon, bestowed a
savage glance upon Edward and the old scout,
and then ran his eyes along the ground from his
feet to the entrance of the recess, as though al-
ready measuring the distance, in contemplation
of a dash for freedom. ‘ .

“ Now, see ’yul‘. Sykes," said Sen, leaning

43‘ ......, .. .4

i
a
l
l
1

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot. 23

 

on his rifle, and gazing squarely at the person

addressed, “it strikes me that you kin throw a

little light on a sart’in subject, of you’re a. mind
,7

“ It strikes me that I ain‘t a mind to,” inter-

ed the man, sullenly.

“ Jist hear me through, ef yer has any respect
for yer revision basket,” resumed Sam, un—
disturbe . “I’m goin’ to ax you a question or
two, and—”

“And .I won't answer ’em,” interrupted the
man, again.

“ Shet up, you low scum of creation i” cried
the trapper, in a tone that had the desired ef-
fect. “ You will answer my questions; I know
you will, ’cause. I’m sure you’d rather discom-
mode yerself a little, than to have a loop—hole
drilled through the upper extremity of yer
length. Now, in the fu’st place, 1 want yer to
tell me of Colonel Howarth and that ar’ gal of
his’n are.dead or alive?”

Thevvillaiu hesitated.

Click! went the hammer of the trapper’s
rifle.

“ They are both alive,” said Dan Sykes,
quickly.

“ You’ll swear to that?”

“A dozen times, if on wish.”

"‘ Has either one of em been harmed 3”

“ The colonel was wounded on the head when
he was captured. Nothing to speak of."

“ They are still in Turk Redby’s power?”

“ They are.”

“ Wal, you jist tell the same thing that Solo-
mon tells, and I reckon thar must be some truth
in it. But thar’s sunkthin’ we hain’t found out
yit, and that I s‘pose we’ll have to Peru from

on. What kin we find our friends? Whar is

by keepin’ ‘em?’

The desperado was silent. But a few minutes
ago he had been an eavesdropper to the conver-
sation of the little dinner-party, and had heard
the information drawn from Solomon in the same
manner that it was now being drawn from him.
He had tired at the Indian then, with intent to
kill,simpl y to prevent him from telling where the
captives might be found; and now that he'was
placed, quite unexpectedly, in the same pos1tion
recently occupied by the dwarf, he inwardly
resolved that he would not be so cowardly and
inconsistent as to make the treasonable revela-
tion required of him.

“ Are you g’oin’ to tell?” asked Sam, coolly.

“ No!” was the dogged response.

Clickl went the rifle again.

The man started and turned pale, but he did
not speak.

“ Thar ain’t to be any foolishness ’bout this,”
said the trapper, and his tone expressed a ter-
rible determination. “ Sancho Sam are a b’ar
that means prezactly what he sez, every.time,
and thinks no more of killiu’ a man of your
stripe than he would of pluggin’ the noddle of a
Cro’w In 'un.
winntesigoopcn yer mouth and tell us all yer
knows ‘bout—" . ,

The sentenaa remained .forever . incomplete.
with a movement as quick as lightning, the
desperado lea forward, and hurled himself
with all possib 6 force against the trapper, caus-
ing that personage to measure 1115 length on the

 

Now, we won’t give you five,

 

ground. Then, with a roar of defiance, be
bounded over the rostrate form and was off
with the speed of a eerl

But Edward Westlake was never slow to act,
nor was he on this occasion. With a celerity
that equaled that of his enemy, be seized his
grin and darted out of the recess in pursuit of
the outlaw, leaving his defeated companion to
pick himself up at leisure.

Solomon was started half out of his wife by
the suddenness of these mm‘ements, but even in
his bewilderment it flashed across his mind that
this was his time to escape. So he jumped up
with the intention of bolting out in the tracks
of his two predecessors, but before he could
move a step, a. pair of hands were laid roughly
on his shoulders, and he was hurled backward
upon the stones with a violence that made him
cry out with pain.

'It was Sancho Sam who thus checked the
flight of the dwarf, even before it was begun.

“Lay thar, you little imp!” he said, gruffly.
“ Ef that other cuss gits awa you’ll stay with
us awhile longer, that’s all. l§e can’t afford to
lose both of you-nor even one of you, ef we
can help it. I wish I had him by the ha’r. Lay
still now, while I tie you, ’cause I hain’t got no '
time to play, and of yer moves a muscle this
toothpick ’11 pin you to the ground in the shake
of a b’ar’s tail!”

While speaking he was also producing some
pieces of cord, an ample supply of which he in-
variably carried about his person, in view of
emergencies that would make it useful.

As he ceased speaking he began hastily to
bind the Indian hand and foot, to prevent the
possibility of another attempt at flight. Feaiu
ing the threatened consequences of a resistance,
the Indian did not move while he was being
bound, though he did venture to remonstrate.

“You no keep promise,” he cxclaimed,ve~
hemently. “ You say you let me go when I tell
all ’bout Redby.” - _ '

“ Waghl you hain’t told yit,” said Sam;
“ You hain’t told Whar Redby’s den is.”

“Me tell now,” said the savage, brightening

up.

“ No yer won’t. I haint time to listen now.
I’ll hear all you’ve got to say when I come back,
and my reason fur tyin' you is to keep you hynr
till I do come back.” '

So sayin he left the dwarf in his helpless con—
dition, an strode out of the recess into the
gorge. r

Here he paused. A look of uneasiness swept
over his features. The man, Dan seekes, was
not in sight-member was Edward estlake.
Not a living thing was visible to his eyes.

He looked in both directions, and listened in~
tently. Nothing was to be seen or heard.

CHAPTER XVI.
IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN.

WHEN Edward Westlake rushed out of the
recess in pursuit of the desperado; it was with a.
vague understanding that he must recapture
him, or run a great risk cf losing Marian for-
everl It would not do, by any.menns, he
thought, to let the villain reach his haunt in
safety, as he would be sure to give Turk Redby
warning of their danger; and the latter, if he

 

    _.

.
l

- i
p

 *
.

 

 J...» (Lune-1 -.—1—. .2

    

museum; , Mme... {’zwv-“bfl’mylw'ev‘rmuA __. ,» v

 

24 I Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

should find it useless to attempt to by with the
ca tives, would, in all probabil ty, murder them
be h before making good his own escape.

This was the thought that flashed across Ed-
ward’s mind, and incited him togive chase; and
he strained every muscle to its utmost tension
in his endeavor to overhaul the fugitive.

Up the canyon they sped, at an astonishing
rate, both of them proving in a moment their
fleetness of foot and their intense anxiety for
the the issue of theimpromptn race. The out—
law’s hands were still tied behind him, and indeed
they bid fair to remain so until freed by some-
body else but apparently this was no impedi~
ment to his progress. 1 was a matter of life
and death with him—with Edward it was even
more than that.

After running about a quarter of a mile from
the starting-point, the racers came to a place
vghgiée the pass made an abrupt turn to the
r .

he outlaw rounded the bend with unabated
speed, and was out of.I sight in a second. But
our hero was not far behind. More swiftly
than he had ever run before, he sped forward
like a rocket. Unlike his enemy, however, he
stopped short in the turn of the pass and lifted
his rifle to his shoulder. From this oint the
canyon was very narrow and crooke , and so
clogged in many places by debris from the
lofty hills on either side, that it was rendered
difllcult of travel. Our hero, as he looked along
the obstructed avenue, saw the outlaw still re-
treatingas rapidly as possible, leaping from
rock to rock with the agility andrecklessness of
a mountain goat.

Westlake’s decision was made. Pressing his
gun to his shoulder, he took quick but sure aim
at the flying figure, and the hammer fell. There
was a sharp click, and the powder flashed in the

an! The gun retained its charge, and the man
ived. Westlake looked down to see what ailed
the weap‘on, but only for a moment. He con-
cluded that he had no time 'to prime it afresh,
and that he must get much closer to the fugitive
before again bringing it into requisition.

But he had taken only two long bounds when
he stopped again. This time the bolt was very
sudden indeed, and the butt of his rifle struck
the ground with a ring, and his eyes and
mouth flew open, and he was the very picture of
intense amazement.

The outlaw had disappeared. He was no-
where to be seen. Look whichever way he
would, not even the trace of a living thing was
visible. To all appearance, Edward was en-
tirely alone in the gorge.

What had become of the villain? Where hid

he gone so suddenly? Edward’s first thought
was that he had dived into some crevice or
cavern—probably the very place so anxiously
looked for: the lurking— lace of Turk Redby.
. This thought exci him, and he hurried
forward once more. He went with much less
speed now than he had greviously practiced,
firstly because the way be grown less smooth,
and secondly for the purpose of keeping a sharp
lookout on both sides of the gorge, in order to
discOVer. if possible, the cave or gulch which
had Swallowed up the desperado.

In this be was unsuccessful. He went on, and

w

 

on, until he knew there was no necessity of go-
ing further, and then he paused. He was per-
Elexed and vexed. He was positive the fellow

ad not gone so far, before he had lost sight of
him, and yet he had found no place where the
wretch could have hidden. Half despairing, he
turned about and began to retrace his steps,
slowly and reluctantly, still scanning the walls
on either hand, with a hope that he might yet
find what he had overlooked before; a clew to
the villain's whereabouts.”

He had not prOCeeded far on his return, when
all of a sudden he was startled by a hoarse voice,
exclaiming:

“ Rash fool! in following me you have over-
taken death. Take that, you coward l"

Edward whirled round at the sound of this
voice, and the first thing he saw was a human
head, within a few feet of where he stood. It
was all he could see, and it was raised above the
edge of a rock, behind which the rest of the body
was concealed. He only obtained a glimpse of
the head, for at the very moment he turned it
was concealed b a cloud of smoke that suddenly
sprung into exis ence, and the jarring report of
a pistol echoed through the gorge. he bullet
whistled by so close to his ear that he dodged in-
voluntarily.

When the smoke cleared away, the young
man lifted his rifle and looked for the head. But
it was gone.

However, he was a victim of impulses to-day,

and he resolved to follow the villain, cost what
it might. He knew it was Dan Sykes who had
shot at him; even in that one glimpse he had re-
cogériized the face.
. ith one leap he mounted the rock, and stood
upon the highest edge. He looked dewn behind
it. Nobody was there, but that look put him in
pOSSession of a secret, and inspired him once
more with brilliant hopes. There was a dark
hole—an opening in the face of the cliif, of suf-
ficient dimensions to admit the body of an ordi-
nary man in a slightly stooping posture. It was
the mouth of a cave, and in this cave Dan Sykes
had undoubtedly taken refuge. This, and even
in re, was apparent to Edward. He believed he
had stumbled upon that which he most desired
to find—the den of Turk Redby.

Without the slightest hesitation, and without a
thought of what might be the consequence of such
an act, he jumped down behind the rock, bent his
body almost double, and fairly dove into the
cavern.

It was dark as pitch inside, and nothing was
to be heard save his own heavy breathing and
the sound of his footsteps, but he went fearlessly
on, holding his gun in advance, at arm‘s length.
He groped his way through a short. narrow
passage, and then—notwithstanding the dark-
ness was still intense—he became aware'tbat he
had emerged into an apartment of consxdera ble
dimensions. He paused then, stood erect and
listened. He heard nothing. He endeavored to

penetrate the heavy gloom with his keen e es. .

The effort could have been no less fruitless ad
it been a stone wall he was endeavoring to see
through. A feeling of uneasiness came. overhim
now for the first time, for it is a fact well known
that there have been times when mere darkness
and silence have produced uneasiness in the

 


'1,
A,“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot. - 25

stoutest hearts. He was confident that he was
in the outlaws’ cave, and he felt that the outlaws
knew it—that he was watched, and that he had
placed himself in their power.

Hark! what was that he heard? A scream?
Yes, it was! Beyond a doubt it was a scream,
and one that told its author was in distress.
Moreover, it was a female voice. There could
be no uncertainty about that. Edward started
as it fell upon his ear, for, although the cry was
but faintly heard, as if it proceeded from a dis-
tant art of the cavern, far back under the hills,
he st l1 thought he recognized the voice.

“ Marianl Marian!” he shouted, “ I am com-
ingl I am coming to save you I"

The last words were still quivering on his lips,
when the far-off report of a pistol came rolling
through the cavern, followed by another faint
scream, and all was still again.

Edward bounded forward, regardless of dark-
ness and danger—thinking only of her that was
dearer to him than life—thinking only of her and
her peril, and with a determination to rescue her
or die in her defense. But it so happened that
somebody was coming from the opposite direc—
tion at the same time and at no less speed. Sud—
denly a heavy body came against the young man
with such force as to almost jar the breath out
of him and he was unceremoniously brought to
a stand-still. Before he could lace himself on
the defensive his (gun was via ently wrenched
from his hands an dashed to the ground. Then
a pair of rough hands seized him, and a hoarse
voice roared in his ear:

“ You’re going to save her, are you? Ha! ha!
ha! When you do, the sun will turn to blood.
She is already saved. Did you hear that pistol-
;léd’tg? ' The bullet pierced her brain. Hal ha!

It was enough. Edward heard no more.
These words set him wild, and endowed him
with the strength of a giant. He did not seem
to act by his own effort; his brain, his heart,
his soul were as nothing; and the few moments
that followed werea b ank in his memory. He
could never afterward give a clear account of
what occurred then. He had a dim recollection
of grappling with a man in the dark, and of a
desperate struggle, which might have lasted an
hour or a minute, for all he know. He was con-
scious of no more until he found himself, as it
were, standing there alone, breathing huskily
and holding a wet knife in his hand, while he
could plainly hear the thick blood dripping
slowly on the stone floor of the cave.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE nnsrnaano’s rLIGii-r.

WHILE yet Edward was standing there, with
thepeculiar sensation of one 'slowly waking from
a dream, a light flashed in his face, and brought
him at once to a realization of his position.

He looked up with a start. He saw a man
running toward him holding a blazing torch in
his hand. He was coming from the rear part of
the cave, and, of course, was at once regarded
as an enemy. The man was minus both hat and
coat, and his head was bandaged as if he had
recently been wounded. .

Edward’s fingers closed ti htly around the

 

,handle of his knife, and be p nted one foot be-

. "amp,

hind the other with a look that showed he was
determined to die fighting.

“ Stand off, wretchl” he cried in a ringing
voice, “ or advance at your peril. If you dare
to approach within reach of this weapon, your
blood be upon your own head.”

The man with the bandaged head stopped
short, held the torch above his face, and looked
immeasurably amazed.

“ Westlake—Westlakel don’t you know me?”
he exclaimed in a trembling voice. “Look at
mel I am—”

“Colonel Howarth, by the seven wonders!”
ejaculated Edward recognizing him as he spoke;
and dropping his knife, he sprung forward to
meet his friend.

" Thank God you still live!” he cried, in a
transport of joy, as be seized the colonel‘s hand
and 3 00k it warmly. “ I thought you were an
enemy. One minute ago I could not have hoped
for this meeting.”

“ By Heaven’s mercy I still live I” replied the
colonel, returning the young man’s greeting
with as much warmth as it was given. “Al-
though by to~morrow I could not have said so
much for myself.”

t And a faint smile flickered over his pale fea-
ures.

“ I am glad to see you, Westlake," he added
in a stronger voice, “ and more so because
know that you are here in behalf of myself and
dau hter. You are a brave and noble lad, and—
Goo gracious! sir, did you kill that man?”

His eyes, for the first time, alighted upon the
silent, bloody figure stretched out at their feet.

“ I—I suppose I did," replied Edward, looking
dowu at his victim as if he did not clearly un-
derstand it, and then looking up again at his
interrogator.

“One fiend less in the world!” said Colonel
Hawarth, clinching his teeth. “ This is Turk
Redby’s companion.”

Edward bent upon the lifeless man a closer
scrutiny, and discovered that such was the met.
It was Dan Sykes—and he was dead. There
were ghastly knife-wounds in his breast and
throat, and he was weltering in his blood.

“ I suppose I killed him,” said the young man
in a bewildered sort of way, “ though I hardly
know how or why.”

“No matter; you did a good deed when you
took his life,” said Colonel Howarth, speaking
rapidly now, as if it had just occurred to him
that time was precious. “The fellow came
rushing in here awhile ago, with his hands tied
behind him, exclaiming that he had been a cap-
tive, had escaped, and was pursued. Redby cut
the cord that bound his wrists, and then, With-
out‘waiting a moment, Sykes snatched up a pars-
tol and ran back to the mouth of the cave. a
heard the report of his pistol, and supposed he
had shot somebody, but a moment. later he came
back at the top of his speed, and announced
vociferously that he had missed his aim. He
told Redby to escape with the irl as quickly as
possible, and he Would cover h s retreat.”

At this point in the explanation Edward
started and grasped the colonel’s arm. The
glarin torch revealed a white face, and a. pair
of wil ly-gloaming eyes. _ _

“ I remember, now,” he said, in an icy Whigs

 

 

 

26 - Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

 

per, “ I remember now. This demon ran
against me in the dark—he grappled with me—
he roared in my ear that Mai-inn was dead-«shot
through the brain by her captor. Yes, yes; I
remember it now. My God! Colonel Howarth,
the murderer of your daughter shall die for
this. He shall die a thousand deaths, if he had
as many lives 1”

“ Stop, my friend," interrupted the other;
“ you alarm me. Compose yourself, and listen
to me. If this man told you Marian was dead,
he told a base lie. She is not.”

“Not dead? Thank Godl”

“ She was not even shot at.”

“But I heard the report of a pistol and a
scream.” ’

“ The pistol was aimed at me," said the colo-
nel, quietly. “When apprised of his danger,
Turk Redby lifted Marian in his arms, in spite
of her struggles and cries, and began to ascend
the ladder which leads from the rear apartment
to the open air. I was lying on the ground,
bound hand and foot, and consequentl helpless.
When Redby was near the top of the adder, he
turned about, held Marian with his left arm,
drew a pistol with his right hand, pointed it at
me, and fired. The bullet missed me, but he did
not wait to observe the effect of his shot. He
was gone in a moment, and gone with my
daughter. I became frantic; Iseemed possessed
of superhuman strength in my desperation, and
after two or three ineffectual ‘attempts, I
snapped the cords on my wrists. With the use
of my hands, it was the work of a moment to
set my feet (ree. I believed there were friends

' out here, and I came to meet them, and procure

their assistance. And now let us waste no more
time. Come, Westlake: will you go with me in
pursuit of Marian‘s oaptorl”

“ Will I?” echoed Edward, hurriedly picking
up This gun and knife. “How can you ask
me

“But stay,” added the colonel. “Where is
Sancho Sam? Didn’t he accompany you
hither?”

“ He is not far away, but I came to the cave
alone. We haven‘t time to 0 after him; be—
sides, we do not need his help, s nce Redby is but
one, and we are two. Delay is a torture. Lead
the way, and I will follow."

Colonel Howarth started back to the rear of
the cave with long, rapid strides, closely fol-
lowed by the youth. He held up the torch to
light thezway. Without it they could not have
seen beyond the end of their noses, for there
was not so much as a crevice to relieve the
opacity of the substance between them and the
heavens, and not a single ray of daylight was
admitted to the subterranean vault.

After going through a long, wide passage
they emerged into another apartment, which,
the colonel explained, was the dwelling-place of
Redby and Sykes, as Well as the prison-chamber
of himself and daughter. This room was not so
spacious as the first one, but it had been slightly
fitted up for a p1a~e of abode, for it contained
two clumsy stools and a bench in the way of
furniture. Its‘greatest measure. by far. was its
depth. The ceiling looked very high to Edward
as he glanced upward, but to See it he did not
have to depend upon the one torch they carried,

 

as there were three or four others sticking in the
walls around them.”

On one side of the room was arope-ladder,
reaching from the floor to a sort of trapdoor, as
it appeared, in the ceiling. '

This they prepared to ascend, as it was the
course taken by Redby in his flight. Edward
loosened his knife and pistols in his belt, and,
after looking to the priming of his gun, he sus-
pended the weapon across his back, in order to
have the free use of his hands. Colonel How-
arth dropped the torch he carried, and was
ready for pursuit.

Edward took the lead. Grasping the dang-
ling ropes in a firm, resolute manner, and with a.
look which showed that nothing but death itself
could stop him. he began to ascend. The col-
onel was not slow in following.

Up the trembling ladder they climbed, until
they reached the ceiling. Here. was a dark hole,
which may be briefly described by simply inti»
mating that it resembled the interior of a chim-
ney, about five feet in length. Into this hole
they squeezed their bodies, and continued to
climb upward. At the top a flat stone had been
laid over the aperture. This was easily re-
moved, and the result a flood of daylight and a
stream of fresh air.

The two men climbed out of the cavity, and
found themselves upon a level table-land, over—
looking a vast extent of broken country. Here
they paused to look about them. That the da y
was nearly gone was sh0wn by the position or
the sun, which was slowly sinking behind the
Western hills, and kissing the tallest peaks with
his last golden rays.

“Well, here we are,” said Edward, speaking
hurriedly to his companion. “ How shall we
proceed? Can you tell which direction it were
better r0 follow ?”

“I know not what to do. I must leave the
guidance to you, young man. My head is not
clear.”

“ Help! help! help I” screamed a female
voice at that moment. “Fatherl Edwardl
Save me—oh, save mel"

The two men whirled round simultaneously,
in answer to the pleading cry. They beheld a
sight that made Colonel Howarth clasp his
hands. and caused Edward Westlake to unsling
his rifle in the twinkling of an eye.

CHAPTER XVIII.
SANCHO SAM’S SURE SHOT.

AT no great distance from where they stood,
they saw Turk Redby and Marian Howarth.
They were on the very verge of the clifl’, over-
looking the gorge through which Edward had
chased Dan Sykes, and at a point directly above
the mouth of the cave.

When first seen by our friends, Redby had the
girl by the wrists, trying to drag her along the
edge of the precipice. He was cursing and
threatening— she struggling and crying for help,
while her hair was disheveled, her garments
torn, and her face turned pleadlngly toward
her father and lover.

“Villain! Cowardi” shouted Edward, level-
ing his rifle at the man. “Unhand that girl
instantly i” _

Quick as thought the cunning wretch leaped

 

  

-:._\ c?

i
5’
i
i
s
i
'i

 

nun ‘

:JJZAAxAfinEMnM M“

 

 

 

i3.
5.:
l?
7‘
3



 

Sancho Sam’s Shot. 1 ' 2'7

 

behind the girl, and, grasping her arms with his
sinewy hands, compelled her to stand between
him and his enemies.

“Shoot, if on will,” he cried, with a mock—
ing laugh. ‘ Hal hai hal”

Colonel Howarth and the young man looked
at each other.

“ What can we do?” exclaimed Edward.

“ Rush upon the demon, and overpower him
before he can escape,” replied the colonel, who,
in his excitement, thought not once of his own
dan er should such a course be pursued.

estlake shook his head.

“That would not do,” said he, in a tone that
showed his utter disapproval of the plan. “ The
fellow could easily shoot one or both of us before
we could reach him.”

As if he had overheard these remarks, Redby
drew a pistol and deliberately ointed it at the
two men, over the girl’s shoul er.

“ Advance 3. step,” he cried, “ and I fir '. I
warn you that I will not be taken alive, and
also that this maiden shall not be separated from
me alive. I will murder her before your very
eyes before I will allow you to regain possession
of her.”

There was a pause. Colonel Howarth looked
at his young friend with pale face and knitted
brows.

“Can we do nothing?” he asked, in a voice
shaking with his intense emotions.

Before Edward could reply, Redby, with the
wea n still pointed, cried out:

“ command you both to retire immediatel ,
and leave me to go my way unmolested. 0
back into the cave and out of my sight in less
than one minute, or your bones shall be left to
bleach upon this hill.”

At that instant—just as the last word fell
from the villain’s mouth—all distinctly heard
the crack of a rifle in the canyon below. The
next second Turk Redby was seen to give a vio-
lent start, release Marian from thgrastp, stag-
ger and reel like a drunken m ; an then,
throwing up his hands with a wild, unearthly
shriek, he fell backward over the edge of the
cliflf, and disappeared!

No sooner did Marian see that she was at
liberty, than she gave utterance to a joyful cry
and ran toward her friends, realizing only that
she was free, and not that her captor had met
with death in one of its most horrible shapes.

“ Mherl Ed ward i” she cried. and in an-
other moment ahe lay panting on her lover’s
breast, while he gently pushed back her damp
hair and imprinted a kiss on her forehead.

“ Darlingl” he murmured. “ God alone knows
my happiness at this moment.”

“ I may judge it by my own,” she answered,
tremulousl . , .

“ And I Ky mine,” said the colonel, with beam-
ing face. “ This is a happy hour, indeed.”

And he kissed his daughter, affectionately. ’

“ But who fired the shot that killed Turk Red-
by?" he asked, a moment latern .

“ Is Turk Redby killed?” cried Marian, look-
ing toward the spot where he had stood holding

r

he .

“ If not he must have a charmed life. He fell
over the cliff.”

9‘ I think it was Sancho Sam who fired that

3.5.

 

shot,” said Edward. “ Indeed, whether he was
the marksman or not, I would take my oath that
it was the report of his rifle we heard.”

“ We can settle that question by seeing for
ourselves,” observed the colonel. “ Come; let
us go. The sun is fast going down, and I see no
necessity for wasting more time here.”

Without further delay, they turned to the
chimney—like aperture which led to the cavern
below. Marian assumed the lead. Laughing at
the idea of assistance, when it was offered her,
she lowered herself into the dark hole and began
to climb down the rope ladder.

The men followed her, and in a few moments
they were all standing together in the rear apart-
ment of the cave.

Colonel Howarth extinguished every torch
but one, and that one he took in his hand to
light their wav out. Bidding the others follow,
he went ahea with the light, and they moved
on through the long Eassage toward the mouth
of the cave. In the rout a artment they found
the bloody form of Dan Sy es, lying just as he
had fallen when Edward Westlake’s knife
pierced his villainous heart. They merely
glanced at the corpse, and passed on in solemn
silence.‘

As they emerged from the cave the first per-
son they saw was Sancho Sam. e was stand-
ing on the opposite side of the gorge, leaning on
his long rifle in an:attitude habitual with him,
apparently waiting for them. A broad smile il-
lumined his visage as the ,trio appeared, and he
came forward to meet them with hand extended.

“Lord bless you, kurnel, this is you, ain’t it,
with yer head done up in a rag? And hyur you
are, little ’un,” said the scout, laying his hand
on Marian’s head, “ lookin’ as well as ever, ’cept
you’re sorter pale, like. We], youngster, I
reckon we’re well paid fur comin‘, ain’t we?”

" A thousand times paid," answered Edward,
warmly.

“ But Turk Redby—where is he?” inquired
Colonel Howarth. “You shot him, Sam, did
you not?” "

‘flCalc’late I did,” replied the trapper, with a
smi e.

” And he fell from the cliff?”

“ Wal, he didn’t do nothin’ else.”

“Then where is his body?” ‘

“ I dragged his carkidge into that niche, yen—
der. I thoit as how it warn’t jist the sight fur
the gal to look at.”

Marian shuddered and turned her face swag,
but her father and Edward approached t e
niche referred to by the trapper, and looked in.
There, sure enough, was the crushed and man-
gled body of the desperado, Turk Redby. Bis
clothes were badly torn, and fairly saturated
with blood; his face was frightfully cut and
bruised; his hair was clotted with sickly gore;
his eyes and mouth were wide open, an v his
teeth were revealed in all their grinning ghastli-
ness.

“Let the poor chap rest,” said Sam, solemn-
ly. “ Him and his chum have both passed in
t eir checks, and thar ain‘t nothin’ more to be
feared from 'em. So we’ll jist leave ’em to rest.
Let’s go back to whar we left Solomon and the
bosses.”

And taking the lead himself, he conducted

 

 

 

 

,Wm~.wvw .. . . ,

88’ Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

them all back to that part of the canyon where
he and Edward had first stopped after their en-
trance. They found their animals just as they
had left them, and in the recess, where they had
dined, lay Solomon the dwarf, bound hand and
foot, the work of Sancho Sam.

The trapper released him.

“You kin git up now, Injun,” said he,
“ ’cnuse I reckon thar’s no danger of your out
tin’ sticks while we’ve got our peepers on you.
Eiyop do, I’ve got a pill ready that you kin
ta e.’

“ Let him go,” said Marian. “ Surely you do
not wish to be troubled by him, when it is ac-
cessary that we should make the best of our
time just now, and get out of these breaks be-
fore ni htfall. It will be utterly impOSSible
to trave over that perilous path in safety after
dark. But stay!" she added, with a sudden
change of tone; “you forgot to bring your
horse, father, and there are only two here.
Our progress will be very slow indeed, if you
are thoughtless enough to leave your horse.”

“ Wait a bit,” interrupted the trapper. “ I’ve
made up my mind that we wont leave the
breaks tonight. Thar’s no need of gittin‘ in a
hurry now, arter all the danger’s over. We
all need rest—’Specially you and yer father—and
so we’ll stay right on this spot till mornin’.
As fui;’Solomon—wul, he kin lodge with us over
ni ht.

g‘ I will go back to the cave after my horse,
immediately,” said the colonel, “ and I will
bring Redby’s horse for your use, my dear. He
will never ride him more.”

No objections were offered to this plan. Col—
one] Howarth departed, and soon returned with
two horses, one carrying Marion’s saddle and the
other his own. These were given a place with
the other animals.

It was agreed all around that they should
stgg there until the next morning, since Turk
R by was forever silenced, and the lost ones
were found. _____

CHAPTER XIX.
THE sraorna RIDERS.

NIGHT closed in, and it was dark to the last
degree in the gorge. A roaring fire was built
in the recess, however, brilliantly lighting up
the immediate vicinity, and casting grotes ue
shadows on the cold ray walls around. 'lhe
little group of five, inc uding Solomon, inclosed
the fire in a circle by gathering around it, and
all resigned themselves to the pleasant duty of
pre ring and discussing the evening meal,
wh ch, in the absence of a better dish, consisted
chiefly of goat—flesh. Strangely enough, no one
thought of danger new, although they were in a
part of the country inhabited by hostile and

arbarous savages, and could scarcely have felt
safeunder ordinar circumstances. But, after
what had occurre --after their fortunate suc-
cess in the rescue of the captives, and the pun-
ishment of their captors—it became a prevalent
feeling that Providence had interfered in their
behalf, and that they were therefore safe under
such protection.

Supper was over; but no one thought of court-
ing the spirit of slumber as yet. They were
conversing cheerfully, and on various topics,

V‘

 

when Sancho Sam started them all by breaking
off in the middle of a sentence, and commanding
silence.

The command was no sooner given than
obeyed. All looked at Sam in blank surprise.

“ What do you mean? What is the matter?"
Edward ventured.

“ Hush! Listen!” admonished the trapper, in
a low, clear tone, raising one finger to his ear,
and setting the example by listening intently
himself.

All did‘ as they were advised.

“ Does you hear sunkthin’?” inquired the
scout. ‘
“I do,” responded Colonel Howarth, prompt—

1y.

“And I,” cried Edward and Marian, in a
breath, while Solomon held his peace though
he showed by the look he were that he card it

also.

“ What is it?” asked the colonel, with dilated
eyes.

“I can’t guess,” returned the scout, shaking
his head.

“ There is something or somebody wandering
abroad tonight,” asserted Edward, “and not
far away, I should judge.”

“Somebody besides ourselves have blundered
into these parts, that’s sart’in’,” said Sam, con-
fidently.

“1Ha1‘ki do you hear that?” exclaimed the col-
one .

“ By heaven! there are horsemen in the
gorge l” cried Westlake springing to his feet.

“ Get yer guns ready,” came the clear, steady
voice of Sancho Sam, “ and don’t fire till I give
the word.”

The little camp was immediately in a. state of
confusion. The fire was allowed to live, but the
three men ranged themselves behind it where
they could not be seen from the ,orge, and
pressed Mar' 11 and the dwarf back ate the re-
motost corne s.

The clatter of horses’ boots was heard—horses
that were evidently coming up the pass at head-
long} spech ‘

ere they mounted by Indians? Not a hu-
man voice was heard, to tell whether they were
mounted at all or not, but the thought of In-
dians dwelt in every mind.

“ Thgy are comin like the wind,” whispered
Edwar , hastily. ‘ I wonder how they entered
the canyon, when it is so very dark ?”

“ Probably there is more than one way of en-
tering,” suggested the officer, in the same low

ne.

“ Hold yer arms ready, boys,” muttered the
trapper. I opine they’re reds, and they can’t
help knowin’ we’re hyur. ’cause they can see the
fire. I’m afeard they’ll stampede our animals,
but we can’t do nuthin’. Now—ready?”

At that instant the horses came dashing past.
They were in sight only a moment, three power-
ful steeds—three human skeletons—three white
sheets flying in the wind—and that was all.
They came and went in a breath. Swift as ar-
rows they flitted by in the flickering flrelight,

and went thundering on u the gorge, almost.

before they could be distinct y seen.
Not a shot had been fired. The three men
looked at one another in astonishment.

r

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sancho Sam’s Shot.

29‘

J

 

“ The Specter Riders!” ejaculated Colonel
Howarth, in excited tones. “I had nearly for-
gotten them." .

“They are the Specter Riders, sure’s shoot.

in’l” exclaimed the trapper, with a trifle less
composure than he had shown a minute be-
fore. ‘
“ Come with me 13’ shouted Edward Westlake,
in a thrilling voice. “ Now is our chance to un-
rave] this mystery! Come 0111 They cannot es-
cape us now 1”

And, without waiting to see whether they in-
tended to follow or not, he bounded past the
fire like an antelope, and quick as thought was
out of the recess into the gloomy gorge.

Sancho Sam and Colonel Howarth darted af-
ter him, as it compelled by the words of the
young man to follow. The colonel paused a. mo-
ment in the entrance of the recess.

“Marian!” he cried, looking back, “here is
my gun. Take it, and stand guard over that
Indian!”

He tossed the gun toward her, and was gone
the same instant.

Besides being a brave girl, Marian was cool-
headed enough to be an army eneral, and her
father’s weapon ‘nad scarce y touched the
ground when she had it in her hands ready to
make , a remorseless presentation 0 the en-

tire charge to Solomon on his that attempt to es- *

ca e.

he three men were no sooner beyond the
circle of the fire than they found themselves en—
shrouded in total darkness. At the same time
t ey heard a confused trampling and clattering
o hoofs a short distance ahead—a jumping and
plunging, as if the horses had encountered an
obstacle. _

“It is the bend in the pass!” cried Sam, in
his loud, ringing voice. “ They don’t know
which way to turn. Come on—quickl Now or
never!”

They rushed forward, regardless of the awful
gloom—rushed forward through the dark canyon
to ether, determined to make one desperate
e art to tear away the vail of mystery that
hung over the Specter Riders.

They rushed in among the plunging horses,
and closed with them in a fierce struggle. The
animals were wild with fright, and tried hard
to escape, but a pair of strong hands grasped
the reins of each, and held on with stubborn
tenacity in spite of their rearing and kicking.

A minute suificed to quietthe alarmed steeds, ‘

and every one of them was a captive.

The skeletons were silent as ever..

With a strange, uncomfortable feeling that
they were in the presence of supernatural be-
ings, the victors led their prizes back to the
camp in all hasten ' ‘

Here, stopping in the brilliant glare of the
firelight. they proceeded to examine the weird
horsemen with curious eyes, the trapper at first
holding back a little at the dictation of his 5,].
perstitious fancy. Three finelooking horses,
somewhat shy and difficult to keep lll check, an
saddled and bridled and well shod, as it they
were the property of civihzod mortals. The
bones of three human beings, white .and dash-
less, sittin erect in the saddle like llvmg things,
with horrfiily grinning teeth, and dull, staring,

 

eyeless sockets. Each wore a sheet folded loose-
ly about its shoulders. A Closer scintiny re-
vealed the fact that the skeletons were tied to
the horses, and that they were held in their up—
right position by small stiff wires, which were
entirely anlSlble at a distance of two or three
yards.

“ be whole thing is nothing but ahorrible
joke,” observed Colonel Howarth, stepping back
and continuin to gaze at the odd-looking trio.
“ Only a horri )le joke. These horses have been
wandering at will, and not at the will of their
riders.”

Sancho Sam said he would “knock under,”
and acknowledge himself wrong in his opinion
that the Specter Riders were “sperrits.”

“ Hallo! what is this?" exclaimed Edward, at
that juncture.

' As he gave utterance to this excited exclama-
tion, he was seen to withdraw something from
beneath one of the saddles. It wasapiece of
paper, folded to a small size. Mechanically he
unfolded 1t, and spread it out in his hands,
while the others looked on with eager faces.
There was writing on it. Edward held it to—
ward the fire, and read aloud the following
words written thereon:

“The riders of these horses are the mortal re
mains of three men from Fort Binkley. named re-
spectively Simon Dawas, Dean Potter and Joe
Crampton, and the animals are thrir own. These
were the men who inflicted upon me a severe pun-
ishment at the whippingmpost, and when I have add-
ed their commander, Colonel Howarth. to the num- .
her of my Victims. and turned his skeleton loose in
this same manner, my revenge will be complete.

“ TURK Ronny."

 

CHAPTER XX.

as A NATURAL CONSEQUENCE. . *
HERE was a complete solution to the mystery
of the Specter Riders, which had created so
much excitement in and around Fort Binkley,
and here, a160, was an end to the uncertainty
concerning the fate of the three missing men.
Alas! even that uncertainty was better than
the painful reality. Nothing could have been
more horrible than the revenge of that human
fiend, whose very love of murder had led him to
the worst kind of harbarity. Sancho Sam
ground his teeth, and muttered something to
the effect that, if Turk Redby were not already
dead he knew what he would do. Every one in
the party had known Dean Potter, Simon
Dawes and Joe Crampton, and it was with
solemn faces, and emotions of the deepestre-
gret, that they looked upon all that remained
of the ill-fated trio.

It was decided that the skeletons should be
left 11 on the horses and taken to Fort Binkley
just as they were found . _

So, the next moruin our friends were up
bright and early ready or the homeWard ‘ ur~
ney, and mounting their own’ animals, and end-
ing those of the silent riders, they turned their
backs on the canyon camp. They left the
breaks by a different route from that hy.which
they had entered, having discovered a pass
through which the skeletons had gained access
to the gorge on the preceding m ht. It was a
strange-looking party indeed t at came out

 

 

so  Sancho Sam’s Shot.

 

upon the open prairie that morning, and the
trapper indulged in a grim smile as he remarked
that nothing was to be apprehended from In-
(liensl while they were attended by such a body~
guar .

Once upon the plains, Solomon, the Indian
dwarf, was set free, and allowed to depart in
peace; but he was lparticularly warned never to
show himself at ori; Binkley again. until he
had grown tired of life, as that would be the
only occasion upon which they could render
him a service.

Solomon went his way, and was never seen
nor heard of again by any of the other charac-
ters in this drama.

When the party reached the fort it was greet-
ed by shouts of welcome and exclamations of
delight, horror, wonder and awe. Great crowds
gathered around the Specter Riders, when told
that they were their missing friends, and gazed
at them sorrowfully, making numerous inquiries
and indulging in murmurs of indignation.

The remains of the murdered men were buried
in one grave, on a beautiful spot which had
been consecrated by the burial oi! the few who
had one before.

Go onel Howarth resumed his command, and
one day be summoned Edward Westlake into
his presence, and made him an offer of a. on
tain’s commission as a partial reward, he sai .
of the services rendered to himself and daughter.
But Edward declined the honor with thanks.
and modestly added that be desired a reward of

‘another description entirely, to wit: the hand

of Marian. The colonel laughed. and told him
that was his already. The captaincy was then
proirered to Sancho Sam. but he shook his head
in his old way, and said he “ war willin’ to do
some scoutin’ for the fort whenever he was axed,
and flghtin’, too, of it come to that, but he
warn’t goin’ to tie himself thar—not be."
THE END.

 

BEADLE AND ADAMS’

Dime Hand-Books.

Buons's DIME HAND-BOOKS iron Yomzo Psoru
cover a. wide range of subjects. and are especially
adapted to their end.

 

_ Young People’s Series.
Ladies‘ Letter-~Writer. Book of Games.
Gents’ Letter-Writer Fortune-Teller.

Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ Casket.
Book of Verses. Ball—room Companion.
Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty.

Manuals for Housewives.
1. Cook Book. 4. Family Physician.
2. Recipe Book. 5. Dressmaking and Mil-
8. Housekeeper’s Guide. linery.

Song Books.

BsAan's Dms SONG Boone. Nos. 1 to 84. contains
only popular collection of copyright songs.

The abovo publications are mr sale by all news-
dealers or will be sent. gosbgaid, on receipt of
“ice. ten cents each. by EA LE AND ADAMS,

Winuu sci-slaw, N. Y.

 

BEADLE AND ADAMS’

STANDARD .DIME PUBLICATIONS

Speakers.

Each volume contains 100 large pages, printed
from clear, open type, comprising the best collec-
tion of Dialogues, Dramas and Recitations.

The Dime Speakers embrace twenty~flve volumes
viz.:

 

 

1. American Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker.

2. National Speaker. 16. Youth's S aker.

3. Patriotic Speaker. 17. E10 uent eaker.

4. Comic Speaker. 18. Hai Colum la Speak-
5. Elocutionist. er. '

6. Humorous Speaker. 19. Sen‘o-Comic Speaker.
7. Standard Speaker. 20. Select S eaker.

8. Stump Speaker. 21. Funny peaker.

9. Juvenile Speaker. 22. Jolly Speaker.

10. Spread-Eagle Speaker ‘23. Dialect Speaker.

11. Dime Debater. $4. Recitationsand Read-
12. Exhibition S ker. lugs.

13. School Spec. er.  Burlesque Speaker
14. Ludicrous Speaker.

These books are replete with choice pieces for the
School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes. etc. 75 to
100 Declamat-ions and Recitations in each book.

Dialogues.

The Dime Dialogues. each volume 100 pages. 53;.
brace thirty-live books. viz.:

Dialogues No. One. Dialogues No. Eighteen.
Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Nineteen.
Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Twenty.
Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No. Twenty-one.
Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No. Twenty-two.
Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Twenty-three.
Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No. Twenty-four.
Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues No. Twenty-five.
Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues 1:10. Twenty-six.
Dialogues No. Ten. Dialoguesho. Twenty-seven.
Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Twenty-eight.
Dialogues No. Twelve. Dialogues No. Twenty-nine.
Dialogues No. Thirteen. Dialogues No. Thirty.
Dialogues No. Fourteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-one
Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-two.
Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-three.
Dialogues N0.Seventeen Dialogues No. Thirty-four.

_ Dialogues No. Thirty—five.
15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book.

 

Dramas and Readings.

164 '12mo Pages. 20 Cents.

For Schools, Parlors. Entertainments and the Am-
ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Drama,
Comedy. Farce. Dress Pieces. Humorous Diabqu
and Burlesque. by noted writers: and Recitations
and Readings. new rnd standard. of the great“.
celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. Russel.

For sale by all newsdealers. 01' Bent. post-paid, on
receipt of price—ten cents.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Pususnns,
98 William Street. New York.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BEADLE’S BOY’S LIBRARY.

Published Every Saturday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cent.

 

l Dem-hunter, the day Scout 0! the Grant North Woodl. By
0H (loomed.
2 Buffalo Bill, from Bovlmod to Mnnlmmi. iii-Fol. P. lnzrnlnuu.
8 K", (Jar-on. King: of wniulvs. 1! Albert \V. Aiken.
4 Gordon Lillie, the Boylnterpmtrrul the I’nwnees. By Mnjur
5 RH. likarsidnrd 0]“ P '
ru n aunt, ( irizziy's Buy :mi. By Col. P. in rnlmni.
(i Deadwood Diok m1 :1 Bo liy Etlwnnl l.. Wheelie:
7 “'ilti in“. the Pistol l‘rinve lly Col. l’rrnlisn lnurnhzun.
8 The l’rnlrle Rnnuh. llv . ‘ lndgur, .lr.
it Rurlng Joe: The History of r llw.” 15v All. Post.
10 'l'cxnn Jnek. the Klimt-mg i\| llv Col. Prentiss" lnzrnlnun.
11 Charley Skylark. A Stury “(94:001-ng Scrape: and College
Cullen. Bv Mnjm' ll. 1;, 5mm. '
12 Murlnmu Mnrnu. it;v Jimmh .. llndger, Jr.
13 Roving lien. By John J. M.«r»linll.
113 Snrint Steel, Kim: of the, Hush. llv J. E. llndrnr, Jr.
[5) Wine-Awuke George, (hm linv Pioneer. .By Ed. Willett
[6 The Bov Wizard. In ilnrrv unmod.
I? Peter Poppa-grunt, the Umenhern fr-Im Gothnm. By Nonh

l \1 .r

18 Adrift on the Prairie, and An’mteur Hunters on the
Buffulo Range. By 011 Comnel.

19 The Fortune linnter; or. Roving Jue nu Miner, Cowboy,
Trnpyer and Hunter. By A. ll. Post.

20 Tm per Tom, tlu- Wand Imp. lly T. C. llnrhnnzh.

2 iel ow “air. the Buy Chm ol‘ tins l‘uwlleul. llv Colonel
Prentiss lngruhnnu. '

22 The Snow ’l‘rnll.

23 Old Grizzly Atlnn

y \Vomlu nnd “'nte

26) A Rolling Stone: ulelill in the
MGM. rmnm ingrnlmin, lly Wm. R. um.

26 Red River Rovern. ' Dunning Clark.

a? l’lnzn und l’luln; ur_ W'hl Adventures ol‘“lluckskin Sum.”
(Mnj. \‘nm. 8. Hull.) lly Col. 1’. llltlrflllrllll-

28 The Hwonl Prince. '1 ma llmnnntic Life of Col. Mortuary.
ily Cup-t. Frovleriek \VI-itt kn.

29 Snow-Shoe To . iiy r. F. Ilnrhnngh.

30 Paul de Luv. lln- Fre‘m'h iirmu (thnnner. liy C. D. Clark.

3 Round the Cl np Fir . ltv .i...,eyh E. llndger, Jr.

3.3 White lieuvcr, the lndinn .‘letlltillu Chief. Ev Col. l’rentius
nurnhnln.

33 The iioy Cruxniler. liy (Unit. Frml. W hittnlwr.

3 1 The Chime ul'the Great \Vilite Sting, nnd, Cnmp nnti

_ Cunoe. By ‘ ‘ ' rli.

(in PM 'l‘ur Knuckle and lit in)- (‘huins. By R. Stnr'nuch.

36 file I'm-hing Drug-non: ur, 'l‘lns Story of Gen. George A.
Cuu'ar. By (mm. Frrd. Whittuker.

8? N11: Iluwk Goon-m5, liv Col. Prentiss lnurnimm.

33 The Boy Exile» offilherin. liy 'l'. C. llnvlmuzh.

39 The Young “our liuuteru. lly Mord: ltedwlnz.

1‘) Smnrt Him. tine had with n Levul lieu . l'ly Edivnrd Willctt.

41 The fin-ti-lcr‘n Son. Iiy E-Iwnrxi S Ellis.

~12 “'ult Fer unnn’n Crul-e. “y C. Dunnin! Clark.

13 liliic null ievolver. By Cnpt. Fred. Whittnker.

44 '1‘ he hurt. Boy W huh-rs. llv ’l‘. C. Hui-hunch.

45 "l'tlllt‘li Hilly, tho Smilile i’rinw. liy Cut. 1’. lngrnlnnn.

46 Dir-k, the Stowuu y. “y llurlcs Mimi--

4? The )olormlo Iioyu; ur. him on ml Indigo Plantation. By
Join-pl! E. iluiilur, Jr.

43 TI l’mnpnu llunterl; or, New York Boys in liuonns

  
  
  

 

    

p-

 
   

liy Dr. Frank Pun-ell.
tvl’lt‘k \i'lntmher.
car on Sen and Liunl

to
,5;

 

 

 

 

 

H-

    

i
A

   

 

 

 

 

llv T. C. Hnrhnnuh.

Ar 3.
.4'1'1‘110 Adventurous Life of Nebrnfiku Charlie. By

(.‘ol. l’runtiss Inzrnhnm.

50 Jack. llnrr ' nntl '1‘unr,the Three Champion Brotherl. By
0...". Frail. running”. '

51 £11110 Your: Laud-Lulrber. By C. Dunning Cllll‘li.

5‘2 1 he Boy 1 etecllreu. fly '1‘. L‘. ilnrbuutzh.

5:} Honor". Hurry; or, The Country Bov Adrift in the City. ltv
(Ilmrlus .‘lorrin. ' ‘

54 Cfllli'ornin Joe, the )Iysterlonn l‘lnlmnmn. lly Col. Prentisa
nng mm.

5.”; Tip 'l‘rpnucl. the Floater. liy E-lwnnl “'iilett.

56 'l'lhel‘Sunw llnntcru; or, “'lnlor in |hu Woodl. By Barry
l0 inn-vat.

5'? Hurry Nonlern, tho ‘in‘inr Buy .‘lnuit‘inn. 11y 5- W. Pearce.

ml The Adventnrunu life of antnln Jack, tin: Border

liy Cul. l’mniiss lngrnhnm.

v Til“. the Muir. iluy of the Mines. UV Chnries Morrln.

60 The 1 our 'l'rnll Ilnnturn; or, New York Buy- in Grizzl"
mud. Ily '. ,. ilurhmlgll. '

61 The TI 'er lluntern; or. 'l‘ha Colorado Bay; in Eluphnnt
lmnd. ‘hy mum. ii. llndzer,Jr.

62 "actor Carver, lhe “Evil Spirit” of the I’lnins. By cm.
l’rentln lnzinhmn.

615 liluek "one Bill. tha llnmiit Wrecker. By Roger Stnrhurk.

4 Young Dick 'l‘nlhot; or, A tiny» Rough und Tumble Fight

from New York to (‘nlitornim By A \V. Aiken.

85") The Buy Pilot; or, flu: Inland Wr . tr. By Col. P. Ingrnhmn.

63 The llenert Rover; or, Shm-nwny Dick Among the Arnhn.
By Uhnrlea Murris.

6? Texnn Charlie, the Boy Ranger, By Col. Prentixs lngrnlnnn.

68 Lush: liillc; or, The Young Fur Hunteu. By Captain“ Bruin ”
urns.

 

 

 

".

 

   

 

69 The Young Nllllliflt; or. A Ynnkee Boy Among the Russians.
lly Charles Morris.

’30 Pony the Cowbov; or. The Young Mnrsluill’s Rnid. By
,\in or u. n. Stoddnnl. Emacout.

71 Ru Ilnbnnrtlmd lliu Benr. By Captain “ Bruin” Adams.

72 The Ice Ele hnnt. By Cnpt. Frederick \‘hiltnker.

73 The Yonn . cow-limiters. lly Willin n ll. Manning.

74 The Boy nrnl-Finheru. 13y R Ker Sturlumk.

3’5 Revolver Billy, illu Boy llnngvr of'I‘exns. By Ch]. Pmntils
lnzrnilnln.

7 The Condor Klileru. By T. (I. llnrhnugh.

7 Lud Lionheeln, the YoungTiue Fighter. lly Roger Stnrbnck.

T Fluthont Fred. By Edward VVillett ,

7!) Boone, the Hunter. BV Cnplnln F. Wiiittuk r.

80 Kruhlekv lien, tho Lon: Rifle ot‘the (.‘nsn

81 The Kit ‘nrmn Club. liy T. (7. Hurbunui.

32 Little Huck. the 1103‘ Guide. By llurry Rincxuhi.

83 Pony Bob, the Rex-kins: Rider. By Cu]. l’. lnzrnlmm.

34 Captain Fly-by-‘Slght. By Joseph E. llndger, Jr.

HT» Captain Ralph. the Young Explorer. lly C. l). Clnrk.

Hli Little Dun liooku. Hy Morris Reniwing.

87 The Menu erlc Hunter-i. lly .\lnj. ll. Grenville. '

33 Tm. [guy "rump"; “1-, Lite Among the Gipsies. By J. M.
ilofl'nmll.

5'39 ‘lmnunlmre Llje. By C. I) ('lnrh.

90 Iluv lg nun». t unler’s Little Sunni. By'l‘. c. llnvbnugb.

1H Ora; Josh (in: Wiznr-l Ritl . liy Roger Stnrbuck.

It. My A. F. lloll. '

I]: . Ike, the Colorndo Circus Buy. lly i3. Bainbrldge.

91 Nu nelwc, Iliv llrmuihnrn Buy. My Ed. Willatt.

95 M1|I(‘II\V to Siberln; or,A Ynnkee Boy to the Kama. liy
i'hnrlwn \lnrris.

96 Flumln Fred. I'lr'l‘. C. Hurhuuuh.

97 CI-uiut- n '1he li‘lynwuy. lly L1. Dnnniw: Flnrk.

9N 'l‘hc “(IV Ylfiiillhtfifl. lly Mitt. ll. 13. Stmldnld.

99 The. \Vhite Timer». Bv Cunt. Cimries Huwnrd.

100 The Snow-shot- ’l‘rnll. lly St. Georg» linthbane.

101 \Inrlnno, the Uttnwn Girl. lly Evlwnrd Q. Ellil.

102 The Flynwny Afloat. lh- (‘. Dunning Cllll’k-

1035 Put. linlloney’u Ml rcn; or, Silver Tongue the Da-
m-ml. QM... Iiy ( . r in.

104 The Boy I’m-mt ,o . lly linger Stnrlvuck.

105 Minoncc, [he “'nmi Witch. By Edwin Emerson.

108 The “01' Cruineru. By hill vimi \i'illett.

10'? The Border Rovers. Hy . . Milton llutl'nmn.

108 Aluskn. the Wo'f-rlum-n. llv Cnpt. liownni Lincoln.

109 Christian Jim, the White Mnn‘s Friend. By Ed. S. Ellil.

110 l'lllt'ky Joe, the Boy Avenger. By J. M. liufl'nnin.

111 The Border Glulmnker. By Jurst L. Bowen.

112 Lei’t-ll’nnded Pete. By Jtraunh E. lindgur. Jr.

113 The River Rlflcn. By Capt. J. l“. C. Admin.

114 Alone on the l’lnins. By Edward \Viiletl.

1.15 Sliver “urn, mnl His Rifle Fin-dentin Ry RngepStarbuck.

116 Exploit! 01‘ Hezekiah Smith, the Bnoltwoadnman. By

Enwrmn lennm.
117 The Young Mnntungern. By (‘. Dunning Clnrk.
118 (Nd Trnps; r. thn lloy ilivuls. By Bnrry Riugzold.
119 Cantor Shut. the White Crow. Bu '1‘. C. Harbnugh.
1‘30 A "at Trail. Hy Chm-lea Morris.
121 Hunter l’ard lion. By Roger Suirhuck.
122 The Inquinlnnx‘ Queen. liy G. thlu Browne.
123 Tim, the Boy Acrobnt. By Charles Morris.
12-1 Queen Bennie, the Border Girl. By Henry J. Thomu.
125 Tom Tnhor, the lloy Fugitive. By Bnrry Ringgold.
126 Mink Cont, the Denthushot. By Jon. E. Badger, Jr.
121' The Deer Hunters. By John J. )ixmhull.
12% “'oli‘J‘nm "r. The Night-lluwks of the Fire-Lands. By
out. on"... Huwrml. ‘

129 Blivernpnr; or, The Mountain Heroine. By Edward “‘iilett.
180 Keetnen, Qu- en a. the Plnius. ily Percy 11. St. John.
131 1171:1151], the Child Spy. By George Glemn.
132 The Inlmul Truppcr. By ('hnrlrs Hnwnrd.
183 The Fore-t Specter. By Edward Willctt.
184 “’lld Nut. tho 'l‘ronper. lly Wm. R. Eyater.
185 The Silver Bugle. By Llcnt. Colfl'lnzelton.
136 The Prairie 'l‘rnppcr. Bv C. Dunning Clark.
13'? The Antelope lloy. By Geo. L. Aiken.

Beadle’s Boy’l Library is forlila by all Newsdenlcrs, {we
cent: per copy, or lent by mail on receipt of ti: cents each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. l’ilhllnhcrg,
98 William Street, .‘iew York.

 

ll y R. Starbuck.

 

  

   

   

   

 

“any. magnum “may. «4:4...

BEADLE’S ,BOY’S LIBRARY.

Published Every Saturday.

Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Gents,

 

188 Long shot; or, The Dwnrl'Gnidu. By Capt. Cnmgtock.

139 Colnnel Crockett, the Bear King. By C. E. Lnsulla.

140 0141 Paul, the Muuntuinecr. By Lewlu W. Canon.

141 The Giant llunter. By iinrry ilnznrd.

1 12 Black Panther. the Half Blood. By J. E. Bridger.

148 Cal-non, the Guldn. By Lieut. J. H. Randolph

144 Kent. the Hunger. ll)- Edwnrd S. E1112. ‘

145 Bill Rubblnn, Hunter. ’ By Edward Wiliett.

146 The Half-Breed llivul. By Jon. i-I. iiudger, Jr.

14? The Munkud'A ranger. By (‘01. l’rentixs inuruham.

14S Nut, the ’i'rnnper uud indinn Fighter. Iiy Paul J. i'runcott.

149 The Elk Demon” or, The Giant lir then. By T. C.
Hnrbnuzh.

150 The Boy Mil-tun Jlunter; or. Eunlnlie, thu Beautiful
Amazon. By Frederic Whittnimr.

151 Frnnk Ynten, tho Young Trupper; or, Mountain Kate’r

V Winning. By Jun-p11 E. Bridger, Jr.

159 Wild anen, the Scout. By 0” (homes.

153 Ilgpggx-Cup; or, Four Tmppers’Amonz the Sioux. By Paul
r a.

154 The Chumpion Texnn Rider: or, Red Bullnlo and the
Hercule: i'lnntdr. liy llurry St. (ii-.nrun.

155 lD-inh‘y lilck'n Doom. By Jon. E. Budget, Jr.
156 Frank Bell, the “fly Spy. lly Oll Coomea.
157 Nick Doyle. the Guid llnnh‘r. By P. H. Myers.

158 Kidnapped Dick; or, The Write or the Fire Fly.
Ivy liendvraon.

159 Sam's Long Trnil. By W. J. ilmnlllnn.

160 llunk Triplet’o Vow. Hy iinn‘y iluznrd.

“ii The Mad Skipper. By R. Mnrhuck.

162 The Trapper King. By Mnj. Max hlwtine.

1133 Simon Kenton, Hunter. ily Emerson Rodmun.

If” This lloy Chief; or, Frank ileii’a Comp-Ml. By Oil Coomel.
165 The Trader Trnlivor. By J. Staniry Hl'ildcmil.

166 (Did ane'l (flew. By him. Orrin hum-s

107 The Young Trailer. By W. .i. Hmniltnn.

168 The Specter Spy. By hinj. Lewis w. Carson.

169 Lnllk Lute, the 01d Cnlnradn l'iuntm'. By E. W. Archer.
170 The White ‘Voli'. By Edward Wiiintt.

1'?! The Swamp Guide. By W. N. McNeil.

172 The Yankee Paddler. By C. Dunning Clark.

178 The Seoul. nnd llln Young Chum. fly “’urren St. John.
I74 Blat-‘knmlth Toni‘u flunk. By Gen. 1'). Gilbert.

17"» The llnt-knkin Rider. liy Guy Greenwood.

176 The Sqnntter’a Surprinc. By Mrs. ii. J. Thomul.
17‘? Four Follow Seoutn. By J. Sunday Henderson.

178 (Did Kit and "in (,‘umrnder. By Jn». E. Bridger, Jr.
179 [1 nt-le Grlli’s Dimulse. 11y lhm'y ihlznrd.

1310 The Market! Miner. lly Lirul. Col. linzeitlue.
181 Thc; “’ild llnntrcnn. By Capt. Bruin Adulm.

192 The Dwarf Decoy. By Mam 0. Rails.

183 Job Dean’s TactIt-a. By lngoidrhy North.

184 Yankee Eph’n Dilemmn. By J. R. Worcester.
135 The “'lly “'lteh'a “'nrd. iiy Edwin E. Ewing.
180 Frank, the Furrier. By J. Stnniuy Henderson.

18? Diana, the Fair Mountaineer. lly Cunt. F. Whittaker.
188 Jmk’n Sum-e. By Mn. Ann E. Pnricr

1139 Film, the Swamp Scout. By W. J. ilumiiton.

190 The Duhan Trooper. By Fmderlok Dewey.

10! The Buy Brave. By James L. Bow-MI.

192 Randy Bill, of Tun». By Edward Willott.

198 llnrry Winkie’n Long Chm-e. By Wm. B. Eyth-
11H Creeper Onto, the Shudriw Swamp Trnller. By 1". Deny.
195 The. Ranger Detective. By Hurry iiulurll.

19 i Gypny Mug, thu Mountnlu Witnh. By C. D. Clark.
197 The Branded (‘nntnim iiy W. J. Hamilton.

193 (Did (‘rouuilre’u i‘rloio. By Capt. (‘hnrm Howard.
199 Zohrn Znok, lhu Tuxnn. By W. J. Hmniltnn.

900 The .‘Inmeicln Hunter. By Georgie W. Rnhlmom
201 The Yankee Gaptivu. By Edward Willett.

By i. Starr

 

202 Teddy’s Lung Trnil. liy Edwer 5. Ellis.

208 Old Hank, he Hermit. liy Edwmd W. Archer.
2204. Goosehend’n Bent Shut. By Jon. E. Badger, .‘r.
205'- The Dutchman’s Dread. linanChns. Howard.
206 Kit Burt’s Mask. By W. J. Hamilton.

207 Bugle-Eyed Tlnn iiy C. Dunning Clark.

201-} The Vilinze Sport. By Junie: L. anen.

209 But-k Burt‘tl Pint-k. iiy Edward Willet.

210 The Tell-Tale Bullet. By .1. Stanley Henderwn.
211 The Boy Surveyor. By W. J. Hamilton.

212 Yankee Drover Swim-n. By Seeiin Rnbinl.
218 silver City Tom. By Janina L. Bowen.

1314 Nick, tin: Detective. By Edwin Emeraon.

215 Mnatnng Rider Roy. lly Aller W. Aiken.

216 The anotn Dutchman. lly Muj. Mux Mat-tine.
217 Ynnkee Josh, the Rover. Bx li.H.11\-iknnp..\‘l. D.
218 New York Ned In Culli’urnln. By W. J. iitnniiwn.
219 Kentucky Kntc'n Shot. By Rdwnrd Wliiott.
220 ‘Frlmo Frnnk'fl Rival. "y Puul J. Pn-smtt.
22l Doctor ling, mtg-cure, By Lon-is Juy Swift.

222 My Snm’n Snare. By Louis Legrund, M. D.

223 Old Nam-y’- “’ard. By Licut. Col. llnzeitiua.
224 Ruttlcpnte, um Nnnou. By Swlt R. shit-mod.

22F) Niaht-llnwk Bill; or, Tho New York Sportnnwnin Claw.
iiy '. J. ilmuiltun.

22“ The )iuhked )innlno. iiy Mnro 0. Knife.

22'? linrnex'n Bold liruuh. i’._v JLIIIIE‘: L. um}...

228 The Dentin-nod Hportn. By Livnl- 9. G. Lining.

229 llnna Schmidt, Jr.: or, The Diunimi Ynnkcc. iiy W. J.
liulnilinn.

5280 Lone Sim-’- Fnrt- Shot. By Hurry ilnzurd.

281 Mnrk Mornnn'n Mink. By Cupt. (:lmricn Howard.

282 Billy “room‘s Flrt‘t Crulle. By 11. Minor K am».

283 The Girl Rifle-Rhot. By W. .l. Humiltun.

284 Old Kyle’s Long: Tramp. By Henry J. Tinnitus.

235 {Nd Bill Flyco‘n Pledge. 11y Edward Wiiiutt.

286 The lin-thn-‘Vlnz Detective. By lid,  Elli».

237 The D01 phln'a Young Skipper. By an’r Stul'hut'k.

233 Jonh’r Boy Pnrdu. By S. (i. Lansing.

289 Lee anln‘a Disguise. By Mam O. Rolfe.

240 During Dick’n Rat-c. By Arthur L. Maori-n. {

241 Uncle Ephe'a Boys. iiy J. Silulh'y llmlrierann.

242 ’Cyuliat Bob Snared. By Cnpt. R. .\1. Hawthorne.

2—13 {limb-Light Jun; or. BMW. the Canine Smut. Bv Charla

. s ey.

244 iiuh Baker’s Lin-t. Leap. By T. ilmmm Shields. U. S. A.

245 North \Vnnds Nut. By W. .l. liumillnn.

210 The Girl Cllloi'x "r, Doiiy'n Dmll Disguise.
Murrill.

247 Dem-er Dirk, the Ruttler; 01’, The Minn-rs ui liiwimmd
Gulch. By Hurry iinxurri.

248 Blur-k Jlm'r- Doom; or, Billy Bou‘legs'tl lit'Vt'llgv. 13 Unit.
C01. Huzeltinc.

249 Morgnn. the Sm Rover; 01-, The shrewd Srnit‘lmmn'l Srhtlum.
liy John S. Wnrner. .

250 chh’l Ghoul. Trnp; or The Haunted-Hume anm'. lly
George Applegnte Ready Junimry ~2.i.

951 Kyd’n Bold Game; 01', The Death-Trail Mystery. I‘y
l’aul Bibhl. Ready Fabrnury 2. c

252 Sancho Hnm'n Shut; 0, Fort Bi-kit-y‘u Spot‘ler Ridurs,
By George Girl-Ion. lieu-[y February 1.

258 Crnfly (lrnzy Slut-ks or. Thu French Fugitive.
Hum-d. Randy Fehruury Hi. ~

254 The Fighting Quaker: or. The I’m” BMW" “imam
By Fdwnrd S. Ellis. and)‘ Februnry ‘13. .

255 The Runyor‘fi Flrr-t (‘ruI-e: or. The Yunkm Tar Abroad.
By John S. “‘nrnrr. Ready Murch ?.

Bendle's Boy’s Library In for sale hy n11 Newldunlen,fiv0
unit per copy, or unt bv mail on receipt oilix cenu ear-11.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pnbllhherr,
98 William Street, New York.

ily J. M.

B}; Hurry