Copynghtod. 1887, by Bnbu nu: Anna. Entered at. the Post Oflice at New York, N. Y.. M Second Class Mail Manet. Oct. 15, 188:. » $2.50 Published Weekl b Beadle a (1 Adams V01. XV. a Year. No. 98 WmLfAMyST" NEW Ylolnx. ’ Flgflégfits. NOI . “11011515,? 5m: ALMOST GASPED. “ GET ow AND LISTEN, mus.“ w:- I once 0 Job Dean’s Tactics. ' Job Dean’s Tactics; on, The Captain’s Fair Rescuer. BY INGOLDSBY N ORTE. CHAPTER I. THE FRONTIER FORT. “ WELL, captain, I don’t know how you feel, butto me this kind of life is about enough to rust the soul of a man out of him.” “ That’s so; and all these months with never a red-skin in sight. A smart brush with the ras- cals would be quite a. diversion, but there don’t seem much chance of it. However, the relief cannot be many weeks distant, and then, hur- rah for a change of some sort." This brief conversation took place in the sum~ mer of 1860, within a United States fort situat— ed upon the Kansas Nebraska border, at its western'extremity, and near the Kansas River. The speakers were Captain Kessler and his friend, Harmer Dorlon. No person could mis- take their characters—one a soldier by profes- sion and choice, looked as if nature had endowed him with many qualifications for hss business. Tall, active, well formed, with an open, manly face, clear, calm eyes, a resolute mouth. closely- cur-hm? chestnut hair, and an expression at gravity and goodnature, he was a man for other men to respect and confide in, and for women to love. The other had but lately ended his student life. Wonderfully keen glances shot ’from his deep-set eyes. His face was pale, but not elfeminate; his frame light and slender, but not without a careless strength, which told of coils etriuunphs, not only at the desk, but in man y exercues. The two were fast friends, ' v and had been so for many years; and when the soldier had been at the post for some time, Dor- Ion, thinking that a little life at the West would ,be no bad exgerience, joined him. The fort, t ough but an earthwork inclosuro was well built, and strengthened with logs, am ' ,. contained within itself ample space for a com— 'pauy-of Uncle Sam’s dragoons uth their offi— cers. The fort was situated upon a plain which , stretched south and cast for some miles, while to the west the ground was more rolling, and rose considerably at no great distance. The time was evening, and the gray shadows already were rising in the east, while the setting sun shed a. flood of glory all over the western ’ sky—a peaceful time, when the mind goes back to sunsets years ago, seen from welHoved, hap— py homes thousands of miles away. And yet, there are dull times enough in these lonely fron- " tier military settlements. The routine of duty - for those sixty men left much leisure. A rapid scout of a. few miles varied the monotony now and then. The occasional arrival of an emi- ant train, bound further west, or of a lonely tagger With his pouch and rifle, sometimes bro in upon the dullness, and, at irregular in- tervals, some traders and agents with goods for the Indians, and their traffic and revelry , changed the general stillness into noisy activity. But, as the captain said, the life at the fort had for months been entirely without incident. There had been literally nothing to do. 1 “ And yet,” said the captain. “ one comes to like this sort of life. The solitude of nature is not always loneliness. Looking now at onder sunset, which is gilding— Hallo, what’s but?” As he thus abruptly spoke he looked eagerly westward, and suddenly ordered a ty to mount and follow him. Following is eager gaze, the bystanders discerned a human form rapidly descending the slope of a slight risin in" the ground about a half a mile distant, an as it came nearer, saw that it was a. man, running at his utmost speed, though incumbered with a female, whose insensible form he bore in his arms. Quick as thought the party moved out and galloped toward him. No sooner had they reached him than he fell heavily upon the .' /,, I ground and lay speechless and gasping. To. catch up both and lay them across in front of two of the men was but the work of an instant and almost before these who had remained in the fort could realize the incident, the Whole , party had returned. “Something ugly about this,” said the cap— tain, hastily dismounting. “Lieutenant Rob- erts, get the men under arms, and look to the gates. Double the guards, too. I’ve seen this sort of thing once before, and it means mis— chief.” ,. The whole interior of the fort at once became a. scene of hustling activity, and in low time than it takes to tell, the command was ready for any emergency. The man who had thus suddenly appeared among them bore the marks of utter prostra— tion and terror. He seemed about fifty years of age, and was of gg'eat apparent strength, though for the present powerless. The female who had been lifted from his arms was placed upon a bench, sup- ported by the officers, who tried, by sprinkling Water on her face, to arouse her from a kind of stupor that resembled death. All the whfie the man’s eyes never left her, but gazed with such a mixture of love and horror that it was piteous to see. She was youu‘ffi and pretty. Her form, although clad in t e homely garments of hum- e lay upon the ground quite , V ble life, was graceful and rounded. Not, evi— ' ; dently, more than eighteen years of age, the loveliness of matured womanhood was hers. But now, the roses on her cheeks had vanished, and She lay leaning upon the arm of the captain, as if life would never return. At length the man spoke, and cried for water. It was brought, and some brandy mixed With it “ Are any more come in?” he asked, in a voice scarce above a whisper. “ No,” said Harmer. there? and where?" “ Ten of us, besides the women. “How many were Oh God!” and then suddenly rising to his feet, he fairly shrieked, with agony: . “Ten of us, ten of us, besides the women. Four boys and two girls, and their mother.‘r ,' Oh, my poor wife, wh did I ever want to go away from the old omesteadi Gentlemen, they were my boys and my girls, and there was ‘ let this man have somewhere to rest. Job Dean’s Tactics. 3 Jake and Peter, and Peter‘s two boys, and Bill Heath—all gone, nobody left but us two,” and the men flung himself upon the earth witha cry of agony. ‘ Calm yourself, my poor fellow,” said Har— mer. “ Tell us more about it." “More, more? What more to tell? Indians and blood! What more to tell? Like snakes they came on us—we hadn’t time to fire a shot before their knives were at us. left, only us two!” i By this time the alarm had spread to the more domestic region of the fort, and Mrs. Heifernan, the portly Wife of the corporal of that name, came running from her hut, if running be not too irreverent a phrase for describing her heavy quick—march. “ What’s this now?” she exclaimed, with up- lifted hand. “ Oh, glory! But what’s the matter with that poor craychur there? Oh, Harlin”, let me take ye meself, for it’s in a bad way ye are.’ So saying, she gently lifted the girl in her arms, and bore her away as if she were a sleep- ing child. “ That’s all right,” said the captain, consider- ably relieved. ‘ N ow for our other friend,” ad- ded be, turning to where the stricken man still la prostrate. " Get u , friend, and pull your- sell! together a bit. hat’s Well. Now take a little more of this. That’s better. Now just tell us your story straight through, and as quick- ly as you can. We may have to put the finish to it ourselves, don’t you see?” I “ I’ll try, sir. There was me and my wife and our two girls, and our four boys, and Jake and Pete and Pete’s two sons, and Bill Heath. We was bound for Denver, sir. We was from Illinois, way, or else the man we hired to guide us lost it for us. Not two miles from here, aways yonder, we was camped in a grove, and the In- juns set on us sudden, and—oh great Godl ’Twas all I could do. They was all down, and I snatched up Polly and run. The chased us till we got to the top of yon bluff, an then stop— ped. We’re all that’s left.” ,“ How many Indians were there?’7 The man passed his hand across his head as if be‘wimergg' htl ’t b d” ‘ can sa ri - wasa i crow . “A thousngd?”g y, g “ May be, may be less. like struck by lightnin’.” “Had they nus?” “Yes, they ad, but none on ’em were fired off, or else I was too scared to notice.” “Well, that’s all at present. Here, orderly, The ‘rl ‘is?) safe, friend. Just you clear out for a. it, o I don’t know. I was The consultation which followed was brief, but to the purpose. The command numbered about fifty effective men. Of these, twenty were told off, while the rest were ordered to keepa bright lookout from the fort, a lieuten- ant being left with them. The captain and , second lieutenant rode out at the head of the party to reconnoiter. Two men with their _ Sharp’s whines unslung at about a couple of ' hundred of yards’ distance, led the advance, Only us two ' We had got hereabouts and lost our, and all moved slowly and cautiously toward the bluff beyond which the recent tragedy had been enacted. No enemy was in sight: One of the leading troopers dismounted when they reached the base of the hill, and, throwing himself upon the ground, began to crawl up the face, while the rest watched him hreathlessly. He had not to go a hundred yards before reaching the top, and then lifting his head he peered down over the plain beyond. Then he beckoned to his com~ rades, the whole of whom at once spurred rapid- ly up the ascent. Still there was no enemy in sight. The plains beyond this point stretched for miles, only re— lieved by a few belts of timber, beyond which the waters of the Kansas River were visible, as they sparkled in the evening sun. A single man was now left on the hill, and instructed to fire his piece if any hostile appear- ances presented themselves. Then, in the same order us before, the march was continued. Still no enemy in sight. But, there was something else as bad. For in the second patch murdered and mutilated human beings. Stretched upon the ground in the distorted atti- tudes in which the died, were these, r creatures, so full of 1i e but a short hour he ore, ‘ now a confused heap of gashed cor 5. All had been killed; not one living remained! No In- . dian could be seen. had been ransacked and all the arms carried elf. The horses were turned loose and were quietly grazing around. ' ' The soldiers gazed at this sorry si ht with feelings too deep for utterance, and not ing but- the rules of discipline kept them from starting in instant pursuit. But, bes1des the fact that ed, there were other reasons for great caution. And then, there was a ghastly burial to be per- formed. “ We must get back to the fort,” said the ' captain, “ as quickly as possible, and make our arrangements there. If. as I suspect, thereis a. ‘ large body of the fiends not far off, we shall have a busy time. They would never have veu~ tured so near without support. What say you, gentlemen?” ‘ At this moment the sharp report of a carbine was heard from the sentinel upon the hill. To remount and gallop toward him was the work of a few seconds, and soon the soldiers u were asking questions as eagerly as he seemed ' anxious to answer. . r “ What did you see?" " ' “Away off to the northwest, sir, a sort of» cloud of specks just showed on the horizon, and ‘ then went out of sight. See there, again!” Sure enough; there Were specks visible in the horizon. And as before only for an instant, nor did the soldiers see them again, although they gazed long and earnestly. No more time was lost in returning to the ' fort. The evening shadows were growing and “ there was work to be done,” said the captain. V “ What do you expect?” said Harmer, when, the burying completed, the force hadonce more come into risers , “A nigh attack, that’s all.” of live-oak and scrub, were the ghastly forms of ,L " I The baggage of the party ’ ' n i the direction of the trail was solar undiscover- ’ \ t t 4 Job Dean’s Tactics. “ Perhafiis to -night, on tain; them fellers knows a t ng or two, you t,” said a strange vorce. CHAPTER II. JOB. ANEW actor had appeared upon the scene. He was a tall, powerfully-built man, of about thirty-five dyears of ago, though exposure and exercise ha. so bronzed his skin, that at a first fiance it was difficult to guess how old he was. is dress conSISted of the ordinary trapper’s at- tire a hunting-shirt, 1e gings and moccasins all of eerskin; at his bac a small pack; a pow— der-horn and bullet-pouch and knife at his side, and a rifle in his hand. An honest, open-hearted face, too, with a pair of as laughing blue eyes as ever uzzled a maid. “ by, Dean, when did you arrive?” said the captain, with much surprise. ‘ Half an hour ago.” “ Where do you come from?” “ Not far from whar you’ve been to. ” “ Then you savv—’7 “ I see'd a good deal, captain,” and with strong emotion the trapper turned aside and dashed from his eyes what no brave man is ever ashamed of. “Yes, I see’d most of it. I was I laying close all the while. This was the way ’twas: I’d been out. for six weeks across the bor- der and had pretty bad luck. What with one thing and another there’s not the me there used to be. And I thought I’d ma e for the , fort just for a change, besides which my powder. was pretty nigh run out. Well, I came along easy,reud this morning got to the patch of tim- ber where I see’d you awhile ago. Feeling just abit tired, I concluded to rest a spell efore coming in, and was just a-going to fling myself on the ground when I heerd a. sound I kuowed well. It didn’t take long before I was safe up in a scrub-oak and waiting to see what ’u’d come next. Sure enough ’twas a lot of them dirty Sioux that came in just below where I was lying out of their sight. I reckoned they was after no good. for they was all dressed in their war- aint and looked like mischief. “ he varmints stayed a matter of three hours, when I began to get a bit drowsy, and couldn’t help dozmg off to sleep every fiVe min- utes. I knew I couldn’t fall, and presently I was fairly dreaming. Nice scrape, captain— fast asleep right over a set of devils that wouldn’t give ye time to wink afore on was riddled With bullets. How long I slept didn’t know, but I waked up mighty sudden, for just filing into the grove was a lot of emigrants with their teams, but not an Indian in sight. It looked bad. and I Was Ijust going to sing out a‘ warning, when, before could count one, the red-skins was upon ’em, and, all but an old man ' and a girl who got away somehow, the whole party was down, dead or dying. Then came the plundering, and after that the murdering hieves were gone as quick as they had come. “ As soon as I thought all safe, I came down and run, and got in here just after you had left, and here I am.” ' “ I wish you’d come straight on before,” said the captain; “ but there’s no help for it now. How many Indians were there?“ “ Nigh on two hundred, as near as I could tell, and there was more not far off.” “ What do you think about it? They were on the war—path, you said?” _ “They were. And if you don’t hear of ’em round these diggin’s pretty soon, I’m not Job Dean.” “I think so too. I only pray they may comel” “ There’s one barrel’d like to talk to ’em, agg~ v how,” said the trapper, patting his heavy e as he spoke. By this time it was very nearly dark. Vigor- ous preparations for defense were made; the men were ordered to lie on their arms; the sentries were doubled. To any one who could have Wit- nessed the stern watchfulnes's of that little gar- rison there would have appeared little cause tor a arm. The night came on, and a heavy blackness settled upon every object. Not a single 11 ht was allowed in any part of the fort from wh ch it could be seen outside. Thus the silent hours crept on. Still, no signs of an attack. Eleven, twelve, one, and two o’clock nearly struck. “ There‘ll be no trouble to—night,” said Cap- tain Kessler to the trapper. “ The night ain’t over yet,” whispered the other. “Besides, though we are all Iprepared, I should hardly think the savages woul venture on the very night after the massacre. They must know that we should be unusuall vigilant.” “ There you wrong them artfu brutes. They argue just this wa : You don’t expect them to be rash enough to around here so soon; you calc’late on a muss before lon . but not to—night. That’s how they put it. e11, they’ll do jist what they think you don’t expect ’em to do, and that’s—” ’ The sentence was unfinished. Suddenly a yell filled the air on every side of the fort, as if a thousand demons were all around it. Then the blaze of a rifle-volle rent the darkness, and a storm of bullets eras ed against the heav timbers of the tort or sunk with a roll of du l “ thuds ” into the thick earthworks. Then all was still for a moment, when the voice of Kass. lor rung out, sharp and clear: “ Aim low, boys, ready—" And the answering volley of the arrison would have torn the earth u for a t ousand yards had not the trapper and only clapped his hand upon the captain s mouth, and whispered earnestly: “For God’s sake, captain, hold on. E1 the draw your fire ye mayn’t have‘time for a 10a , ’ as sure as I’m a living sinner.” ' “I thank you, John," said the other. “ You are right and I was wrong. I forgot all my ex- perience in a moment, but it won’t happen again.” ' Of course the whole garrison had sprung to their feet, and the men were now lining the inner defenses of the fort. .An outer, and more extended line of works had been abandonded as preventing a sufficiently solid concentration of the men. The firing of the Indians had been beyond this outer defense. Profound silence succeeded for nearly half an Job Dean's Tactics. hour. it was surmised that the Indians had probably passed between the two lines, the dis- tance between which was over two hundred yards. But there was no certainty. With great caution the trapper very slowly raised his head to an embrasure and eeped through. He could see nothing, but he is t that there wasa crowd of living creatures out in that darkness, and cautiously descending, bade the captain “look out for squalls.” Then, asecond time, the infernal yelling of hundreds of throats pierced the ears of the sol- diers, and before its reverberation had ceased. all four sides of the fort were attacked at once. Instantly there was work enough and of the hottest. for, screechin and firing their rifles, the Indians were clim ing the barricades like cats, and dropping in among the soldiers. But there were not many who succeeded so far; and the moon, at that instant breaking through the clouds, the soldiers shot every one of those who passed the ramparts. The light was a godsend to one side at least, for, after its beams poured down upon the scene, not an Indian dared show his head above the rampart, but kept close under it, working hard with hatchets to force their way through. At one point they partially succeeded, and made a fierce rush, actually for a moment creating some confusion, and fighting desperately within that side of the fort. But they were beaten back, leaving the ground strewn with cor ses. Then the attack ceased as suddenly as it ha be- gun. The brief moonlight also became over- cast a ain, and all was as dark as before, and as stil except for a few smothered groans. Not many minutes passed, when the trapper, turning aside, whispered: “ Captain, where are ye?" But there was no response, and he made no further in uirv. There was no more fight- ing that nigh When the gray dawn began to streak the east, not an Indian was in sight, save the few bodies stretched upon the ground within the fort. But a new excitement begun to thrill through the groups of soldiers who looked at each other. Where was the captain? N 0 one had seen him since the melee following the entrance of a portion of the enemy. Intense excitement at once prevailed, for it became clear that he had been captured and carried 01?, though how was a mystery to all. Pursuit was necessary if his life were to be saved, but who were there to undertake it’sl The garrison was weaker by nine wounded men, among them Harmer Dorlon. A force must be left to protect the fort. Hence the number who could be spared to follow the Indians was small indeed. Time, of course, was of the utmost conse- quence. The first lieutenant, Roberts, proceeded at once to address the command, and to call for volunteers for a pursuit. Every man stepped forward. “ Team to me, leftenant,” said the trapper, aside to the officer, " that you have only one plan that’s of any use. You can’t are a big eno 11 pa for this work, and there 3 only one way go a at the job,” “ And what is the plan, Dean ? We know you are the best to advise, so go about it." “ If the captain is to be rescued at all it must be b circumventin7 them as has got him.” “ ut how, and who’s to do it?” “ Well, I’m one of ’em, and I want half ascore, more, under my orders, too—the best men you’ve 0t. “ I shall go with you,” said the lieutenant. ‘f You’ll stop where y’are. Now, which of the boys is most posted on this here Indian business?” The selection was soon made of ten of the most active and experienced of the troopers. By Dean’s wish they divested themselves of all accouterments that would, by 'ingling, announce their presence to an enemy. ach took a rifle, a brace of revolvers and a knife, besides a small uantity of provisions packed on their horses. hen, with the trapper on foot at their head, they started from the fort. There were si us enough of the route taken by the retreating n- diaus, which lay to the northwest. Following it, the little party were soon lost to sight. CHAPTER III. THE RESPONSE. Harman DORLON, having been wounded, had been made as comfortable as possible. A severe out had laid his side open, and another gashed his left arm fearfully; but neither hurt was mortal if care were taken against fever and to prevent a further loss of blood. Lyin upon a camp—bed in the captain’s but, he looked. ghastly enough, however, and helpless as an infant. At his side was a surgeon. who had just finished at- tending to I his wounds, and an old man who seemed bent with grief and anxiety. “ Mr. Harmer, ou’ll do,” said the former; “but I must fin some one to nurse you. Where‘s Mrs. Heffernan?” “Minding the other poor lads that’s nearly killed," said the old man. “ Boynton,” said the other to him suddenly, “ how’s your daughter b this time?” “ Bad y sir, badly. argaret don’t seem to know hardly that she’s safe among friends. She does nothing but moan and Weep. I hardly dared to leave her for this few minutes.” “Stay here, then, I’ll go to her;” and the doc- tor hastily left the but. New this doctor was a. wise though a young man. He had seen trouble and sorrow be— fore to-day, and knew how there was one sure method of relief. Entering the hut where the girl sat crouching, with hidden face her whole form trembling with still unsude ex- citement, he approached her softly, and laying . his hand gently upon her shoulder, called her ’ by her name. She looked up shuddering, her fair face ghastly pale, her bright eyes quenched in tears, and her beautiful golden hair wildly straying over her. “ Margaret," said the doctor, kindly, “you kfidw that. a great trouble has fallen upon us a ? “ No, no, I have no memory but for yester- day—no knowledge of today,” was the agonized re )1 . . L I‘here has eat trouble come; there is grief for others besi as those dearto on. Listen to me, my dear, the time has come at you to rouse 8 ' Job Dean’s Tactics. yourself, and be merciful as only woman can. 11 our fight—you heard firing in the night?- men were stricken down and lie upon painful couches looking for kind words and pitying eyes. f want your help.” The girl looked earnestly at him, while a new expression dawned upon her beautiful features. “ My help.” she whis cred. “ Your help. One 0 these poor creatures is a young gentleman who came here to visit his friend, who commands this fort. He needs all that we can do for him. Be to him a minister- ing angel, and let your charity to him in his extremity be a healing balm for your own sor- row.” She rose up instantly. “ Lead me to him,” she said. It was a sad spectacle which the young girl had come to witness. The prostrate figure of a human being, suddenly stricken into helpless- ness is always appalling; but tosee a oung and handsome man, who but a short time efore had been the life and soul of his associates, lying with bandaged form and blood-stained gar- ments, unable to speak above a whisper, and too feeble to raise a hand, is terrible. But, Mar- garet Boynton pziuSed not for any outpourings of sentiment or useless expressions of sympa— thy. Her work was thee before her. Stoop- ing tenderly over the sufferer, with gentle hands she smoothed his pillow, and imparted the magic feeling of rest which he had not before felt. Then dipping her handkerchief into Water she passed it softly across his feverish brow and as she did so his eyes opened languidly, and gazed into her own. Those were deep, earnest, loving eyes which met his look —full of simple affection and pity; and, feeble as he was, there passed between the two an electric flame, which should never be quenched on this side the grave. What the r new-born feeling that bound them together " might be, neither questioned, but a gracmus peace seemed to spread her wings over the pair and to wrap them in silent happiness. But there was a life to preserve, death to keep at bay. And well anl faithfully did Margaret keep watch and ward over her charge. For three days and nights she scarcely left him; for three days and nights no hands but hers held the blessed water that he craved to his lips; no hands but hers were tenderly laid upon his brain. The mercy of the Lord shone round about them, and with a rain of grateful tears she heard that he was saved—saved from the lonely burial that her people had met—saved, perchance, that she might live for and love him alone. CHAPTER IV. , IN norms AND our. THE party which had departed in sow-chef Captain Kessler, had no easy task before i fierce and treacherous foe, well arxnci by the artifices of traders as treacherous as themselwes. were in front of Job Dean and his brave com- ions. Open force was impossible, stratagem all of danger. But, the rescue had to be eflected, and not one of those brave Americans but would die rather than fail or think of failure. We shall leave them for a while, however, and follow the captain himself as he is borne away through the darkness, an Indian blanket thrown over his head, and his arms“ tied so tightly behind him that his bands cut into his quivering flesh. Captain Kessler was a brave man, and not a heartquake could be charged against him by his worst enem as he was hurried away, he knew not whit er. Hurried away on foot at first, but not for long, then lifted by powerful arms, whose owners broke into a long, swinging trot, that was swift, though noiseless. For over an hour he was thus transported and then he felt himself lifted, thrown, and the next moment was flung upon the ground. The minute after the blanket was torn from him and he saw his captors. What a circle of whirling, crowding, leaping savages! Not a gleam of mercy in the face of one of them. . It was by this time nearly daylight, and just possible to discern objects at some little distance. But, no living creature was to be seen within the horizon, and the captive knew that in God alone lay the power to save him from a fearful death. There was little time to think of this, for the Indians, quite silently as before, formed them— selves into two bodies of about a hundred each. One party disappearing into some thickets, re- turned with a dozen horses, upon one of which he was lifted, and firmly bound to a warrior who was mounted before him. Then his feet were tied under the horse’s belly, and he was as helpless as if encompassed by bands of steel. One party then started at a rapid pace with him in their midst, While the others appeared to be, for some reason, intent upon remaining behind. With these latter, however, we have little con- cern: they only formed a kind of rear»guard, and joined the main body almost immediately upon the latter’s arrival at its destination. The spot on which the Indians at length en— camped was situated a hundred miles from wuere the start had been and the journey occu- pied nearly three days. lt was admirabl adap< ted for shelter and for hiding. A natura clear- ing surrounded by old forest-trees gave ample space for the Warriors, and the environiug shade alforded lurking-places for their scouts and shel- \ tor for their horses. Already many squaws and children were crowed here and there, and many a black face peered forth curiously from be— neath the folds of rude tents smeared with still ruder Indian devices. One tent, larger than the rest eVideutly was that of the chief, and it was Stitched alone at one side of the clearing. rouped about It were several women, and a few warriors were listlessly standing at a little distance. , The return of the expedition had been expected for some hours, and there had been much excite- ment in Consequence. It was not until after- noon that a runner, suddenly darting in from the forest, announced their imxnedite arrival. The whole crowd yelled with delight. Presently, with an anEWerlng yell, the warriors came trooping in, in their midst a horse, upon which one rode, having behind him, bound tightly, the figure of a soldier. 1f the presence of the Indian warriors caused Job Dean’s Tactics. 7 every woman and child to almost shriek with joy the presence also of a prisoner was a. source of deeper exultation. There would be something for all to see presently, which would be an ob- jeCt for loating with ferocious eagerness. The poor cap ive now lying upon the ground, was in their e es 0. somethin to spurn, and torture, and fins 1y destroy. uch cruelties as they could inflict would be inflicted, and at the pros- pect of so horrible an entertainment, even the men, habitually reserved and stoical, could not re ress a stern and savage jo‘yi he first emotion which enry Kessler had experienced when he felt himself borne away from his comrades was of a rage almost past en- durance. Now he felt that hope was dead, and there was nothing but absurdity in mere anger. Half dead with exhaustion, hunger, and thirst, his arms and ankles cut and swollen, his whole body cramped and in pain, he hard] wished for any other fate than a merciful deat . That it would be neither merciful nor speedy he knew, but he would hear himself bravely until the end. He would, if nature would give him aid die like a man. lie was not lon left to his own reflections, however, for imm iately a ravenous feast was commenced, and he was placed in the midst of a knot of the revelers. They untied his hands, and flung him scraps of their coarse dried—meat, and put a vessel of water within his reach. It was with difiiculty that he could swal- low, but the drink was grateful to his parched throat. For, all the time of his madly rido hardly an thing had been given him y his captors. ut he managed to eat a few morsels, and felt revived even to the extent of wondering whether escape were possible. He well knew that the garrison could not pursue in force. He knew that there were brave and devoted hearts beating fon‘ him, but with despair rather than hope. He knew how vi lent the tribe Would be over himself, and in a that host of lowering faces there was no look of pity, no, not one. The savage feast continued for some time, and became, its usual, a filthy orgie before it was ended. The vile tradors’ whisky made some mad, and others mere wullowin r beasts, and more than once the stern voice of t e chief, Wa—me—day—wah-kee, or War Eagle, and the efforts of some of the old men, were hardly suf- ficient to prevent the prisoner’s instant murder. At length the eater number were hideously drunk and help em, and the few that were capable began to secure the prisoner for the night. Re lacing the thongs of hide by which his hands ad been bound, they dragged him close to a. large tree, and securely fastened him to the trunk by longer strips, which they pass- ed round his body at least a dozen times. He was thus left standing. They then flung them- , selves on the und in a circle. The miser of such a situaton can hardlybe realized. or the long hours of the night he stood thus, and when, as it did several times, i'aintness stole over him, the tension caused by his sinking for- ward nearly drove him mad with agony. It was not until the sun was blazing high in the heavens that they released him. As on the evening before, he was allowed to / eat and drink, sparingly, while they agaiirbroko .. their own fast. This over, the assembled in a. large circle and spoke eager y among them- selves for a brief space, and smoking at the same time. Then a Sign was made to the war- riors who guarded him, and he was placed in the middle of the circle, and left there alone, still securely bound. The squaws and children of all ages formed a. dusky framework of the scene, and a Babel of angry voices betokened their hatred and malice. The warriors were silent, however, and looked at him gravely for some time. Then the chief, a gigantic warrior, whose ferocious aspect was hightencd by the smears of black and red paint, with which his face and body were ornamented, slowly rose, dropping his blanket from his mas— sive shoulders as he did Standing at his full hi ght and scowling' fierce- ly at the prisoner, he crossed his arms ovsr his chest, and spoke, in a thick hoarse voice. “ Look at me. I am W'a—nxe—day—wah-kee. I am a. great chief. These are my young men and braves. They know me. They have seen my hands red in battle. Why shall they not be red with your blood?” Kosslcr knew that any reply would precipi— tate his fate. The Indian is just as fond of speech—making as the white man, and whatever oration the chief desired would be for his own gratification chiefly. He preserved, therefore, an entire silence, and an unflinching as t. “ See,” continued the speaker, “ not ong ago there were more brach With me. Where are they? What have you done with them? Where are our hunting—grounds now? Do we not starve because of you? See, you promised us guns and powder, and many .things. You said to us it we go away we shall have presents. Your peo—. pge bring presents and then steal them away. . ou shoot my braves, and then tell lies, and say they began it. V‘Ve are hunted like foxes, ' then if we turn you kill us. Speak. Is it not ' true?” During the utterance of these words the chief had been rather anxious to draw forth some denial from the prisoner. Although at first de- termined not to gratify him, the captain at this point shook his head and uttered an emphatic “ No.” The effect was instantaneous. “ Liar and dog,” yelled the chief. “- Listen then. The great father at Washington prom— ised me and my young man money and axes and blankets every year. Each of us so much. And then came to the station at your fort agents. Did they bring all these thin s? No. Did they bring all the axes and the laukets and powder? No. They stole half of it. Then we got the rest, and then they gave us fire-water and mmle us drunk and took all back, and all that we brought with us besides. And they shot some, and when we shot too they killed . I f.) more of us. And we were sent awa hungry and naked. Did you stop this? No. or- our men shot also, and many are with the teat Spirit who before were with us on the hunting— grounds and at the council-fire. Then wesald we would have war. All of us left said we would kill all of you we could. Good. We will kill you.” ‘ There was much more of a. similar kind, ' which we need not repeat—in fact, theassem 8 Job Dean’s Tactics. hlage soon degenerated into a mere yelling shrieki crowd, eagerto begin the work 0 death. he preparations was sufficiently appall- ing. A large fire of brush and logs was kindled in the middle of the space, and Kessler was brought toward it. Next he was about being stripped of his clothes, but at the same moment _aninte_rruption occurred which seemed unac- ; countable. It was soon explained however, by the sudden appearance of an In ian, who had evidently been traveling at great speed and ap- peared exhausted. He immediatel began a hurried conversation with the chic warriors, and pointed eagerly to the east. That his news was important could at once be seen, for the whole encampment seemed to become greatly excited. Kessler could not guess its import, but the probability was that hostilities were threatened. from some unknown quarter. At all events there was more important business on hand than his execution, for shortly after— ward he was taken into a tent and left bound as before, four Indians remaining with him and keeping close watch. As he was thrust through the narrow entrance he could see parties of three or four each rapidly departing by different di— rections into the surrounding forest. The guard left with him were four in number, and a truculent-looking set they were. Kessler tried to converse with them, but they touched their knives significantly and made no answer. The day was long and dreary—hour after hour . the Indians sat and smoked or conversed among themselves in low tones. ll‘ood was brought by a sutuaw toward evening. She handed some to sec in turn and to Kess or last of all. She was not distinguishable in the. obscurity from the other women of the tribe, and yet Kessler felt a m sterious thrill as she approached him for w ich he could not account. Contrary to what might have been expected, however. she did not ‘ stop to revile him as many others had done, but uietly placed the food by his side. It con- siste simply of dried flesh as before, and some water in an earthen cup. In a moment after- ward she a peared to discover that his tied hands cou] not take the food, and turnin ’ s oke to the other occupants of the tent, evx- ently entreating them to loosen the thongs. She seemed to have much influence with them, and, after some hesitation on their part she re— turned and untied one hand. As she did so Kessler felt a strong and distinct pressure. Then she raised a piece of the meat and closed 'the hand over it tightly but without a word. There was some covert meaning in this pressure, and the most probable one was that the meat lwasnot to be eaten but carefully preserved. The Woman indeed glanced at him from time to time, sitting in a corner of the tent, and when - he, having watched for an opportunity, placed it in his breast, she ave an almost imperceptible nod and immediate y went away. The day wore on, and without change. The usual sounds of chattering squaws and children at their rude games continued. It was not un- ,tll dusk that the warriors returned to their lodges, which they did in parties as they had left them. This night as on the previous one there was a ' wild scene of drunkenness and debauchery. The onl difference was that his guards were change often, and that he was not brought out into the open air. The arrival of each relief- ard seemed to mark the progress 'of genera intoxication among the crowd, for each new arty was in a. more beastly condition than the ast. At length, as brave after brave was over- come, the encampment became more still, until the whole scene displayed but an occasmnal dusky form gliding to and fro, while within the tent lay the prisoner with four tipsy save. es whose efforts to keep awake grew momenta y more difficult. Meanwhile his hand had been left untied by the first party who had been set to watch him, and as he had kept it carefully in the same position as when bound, the subsequent parties had not discovered the omission. Thus matters stood until midnight, by which time all the four savages snored in concert, and a vision of possible escape began to dawn upon the captain’s mind. First, he cautiously made one or two slight movements, to see if they would attract attention. They did not. Then he very stealthin drew from his breast the iece 0 dried flesh, and examined it by pressure. t would not bend! It really concealed some thing then! Soon he discovered what this some— thing was, for he found a thin, narrow bit of sharpened steel imbedded in the flesh. This substitute for a knife was not two inches long but its edge was keen; and with a great leap of his heart the captive saw that his bonds could be cut, and that of all his captors there was one who pitied him and would set him free. To sever the ligatures, even in that darkened but, was a work of danger, but he did it. Still more dan erous was it to assume a more easy position, ut by de 5 he did that also. But all this was of but ittle avail, for the savages who lay snoring within a few feet were not the only enemies which he had to fear. Doubtless the first movement of escape, evenif he had been well armed, would have resulted onl in a hard fight and summary killing. Still, t on ht he better far to risk even this than to lie a oomed man, until at most another day would bethe end of all. Raising himself cautiously upon one elbow he listened. There was no suspicron of him so far. The next thought was to move along an inch at a. time until he could gradually slide beneath the edge of the tent. Suddenly a touch on his arm made his blood run cold, and then course tumultuously throuih his veins. Nothing was visible to him, for t 8 hand which now grasped his arm was from be— hind him as be In with his back to the tent’s edge. The grasp, owever, tightened, and the hand pulled gently the arm toward its owner, whoever that might be. There could be no doubt that the woman was his friend; it must be she‘who now crouched outside the tent and meant to save him. Not a whisper esca either, while, with sus- pended breath, Kess er followed by almost im- perceptible degrees the warning, stealthy motion of the hand, which seemed to caution him to move as glidingly and silently as the snake. Slowly he dra ged himself to the tent’s edge, and getting his headbeneath it, finally emerged, was renews} 09.314; ‘ Job Dean's Tactics. 9 still crawling, and found a muflled form, still holding his arm, extended outside. Not till then did a voice reach him. Ina whisper, the figure said only, “Follow me, as I move.” He did so. Both glided prostrate along the grass until they reached the nearest woods, and then upon their hands and knees for over a bun- dred yards. Then, rising slightly, the strange companion of the captain’s flig t grasped his han lightly, and led him, both crouching low, swiftly and silently away. At first at a quick walk, then at a run, they 5 along. It must have been two miles distant t at the muffled figure paused. “Thank God,” the .stranger said. “Now, thank God.” ' - “From the bottom of my heart,” devoutly answered the captain. “ And you, brave stran— ger— “Bpeak not of me. See yonder thicket. Come there with me, and find deliverance.” Without another word the two advanced,rand found two horses tied, and all things necessary , for a rapid, dangerous journey. Quick as thought both were mounted, and cautiously moving out, at a walk at first, and after about a mile at full gallop. Oh, the glorious freedom of that moonliggt ride! Life, dear life, its object, death left 7 d. Not for two hours did the riders draw rein. . Several times Kessler would have spoken, but was waved to silence. ursuit was almost over, he said: “ Strange woman—” I . “You now me for a woman, then? I was one once. Not as you thought me—not of that accursed tribe.” “No, those are merciless. I felt that you were not of them.” “ My story is a common one. There is no time to tell it now. Enough that I am gently born, am white like you, have been for years a slave to flends—” “ You were ca tured, then?” “I was, achil at the time. They killed all my people, but were not unkind to me. Their chief would have made me his head wife when I was 01:1 enough, and so I grew up with the tribe, by degrees becoming one of them in all but their Villainies.” “ But you had seen captives slain before, and why help me?” “ I cannot tell you why, save that my soul re volted more and more against my captors. Longing for freedom, I dared not attain t es- ca . t last my fate was nearly arriv —-be- fore another month I should have been taken to the Wigwam of Wa—me-day-wah-kee, and I re- solved rather to die. That was the bitter alter- native, and I was prepared to meet it. Then you were broughtin and I swore that both of us Should be free or I would die with you.” i “ Heaven will reward you, lady. My whole life’s gratitude cannot repay you.” “ No more of that. We are not saved yet, re- member. Hush, what is that?" They had been walking their horses during‘ this brief conversation, and had not noticed particularly the route which they were travel- At last, when all fear of ing. Now, however, they suddenly paused and looked closely around, Kessler asking in a whis- per what caused his companion’s alarm. Her only reply was to fling him her bridle and, springing to the ground, she laid her head upon the turf. “ Horses!” she almost gasped. “Get off and listen, thus.” He did so. “ What do you hear?” asked she. “I too hear horses’ feet. Their dull trample upon the earth is distinct, though far off.” “ Then we are lost. See here: if we are once more in those red devils’ hands, I have one blade for myself. Will you have one for me, too?” “ Howi—shall we not fight?” “ ’Tis useless. Promise, promise to lay me dead at your feet, and then, better, oh, better ._ .r far turn your knife’s point toward yourself.” “I promise," said Kessler, solemnly. “But, let us mount and fly.” Buta new expression dawned upon the wov man’s face as she again bent her ear to the ground. From mingled terror and resolve, she chau ed to hope. “ ey are not Indians,” she almost sobbed. “ You, a soldier, not know the tread !” It was true. With a bursting heart the cap— ‘ tain reco ized the steale tramp of cavalry on the mare , and knew that his own gallant sol- diers were not far off. Quick as thought, both remounted and rode toward the sounds that I made such joyful music. CHAPTER V. ‘ 0N TRAIL. ‘ LEAVING the captain for awhile, we will fol- low the little party who had started from the fort in pursuit. The greatest caution was of _ course necessary. The journey: lay through a country which offered continual opportunities ‘for sudden surprises, and every thicket might swarm with enemies. They proceeded for sev-_ eral hours, without incident. There was little or no speaking—the purpose of the ride was too exciting, and the anxiety felt by all too deep for many words. Forty miles had been traversed, and the horses showed signs of fatigue, which must not be disregarded. A halt was called, therefore, and the party picketing them, proceeded to at— tack their rations with what apgetite they r ose ga could. Meanwhile Job Dean W 11111: frame was as hard as steel, dec ared that rest for him was just about the stiflest kind of work, and so he’d take a look round for awhile. “A tree ain’t a bad sort of lookout,” he said to himself, “ so u I goes.” Suiting the ac ion to the word, he nimblyl climbed‘one of the tallest within sight, and from his leafiTambush gazed as far as his eyes could reach. othing rewarded his searching game, and he slowly descended, with a graver look up- on his features than before. “ Tell ye what 'tis, boys,” said he, on return- ing to his companions, ‘ it’s my belief that we’ve got a long job afore us, and that the captain‘s pretty fur away by this time. I’m a-gomg to alter this plan a little—just let me think it out a. ‘z The troopers are under your orders, Mr. I J ob Dean’s Tactics. the only non- Dean,” said a young sergeant, What you say commissioned oflicer present. ‘ we shall do.” ‘ ’ Well, bide a bit,” replied Dean, who withdrew a few yards and began to £9.06 slowly up and down with folded arms. an an expression of deep thought upon his hronzed face. The sol- diers watched him earnestly. The tall, wiry form was so full of power, every motion so sug- estive of ready and vast strength, that he would ave caused any one to gaze long and curiously at him. . For about ten minutes he thus deliberated. At last, as if a sudden resolution had been taken, he strode into their midst and said: . “ I’m going to leave you, boys. This here busi— ness is fitter for me than all of you put together, and I can do it better by myself.” “What, Dean? You must be joking or mad,” exclaimed the sergeant. “Young man,” said the other, “I seldom joke, and never when a friend’s in trouble. Whether I‘m mad or not, there’s only One who knows. Maybe I am, but sols 7most every one, it’s said. An how, what I’ve said I’ve said. Now listen.” here was no mistaking those decided tones. The "men closed round him and gave him their whole attention. ' "‘ When I said I was going on by myself, I didn’t mean you to turn back. But, I want a good hour’s start of you. You keep together, and follow these tracks as we’ve done so far. I shall be in ’em too, only ahead. If I want you I shall wait till you come up, but when you see a blazed trunk or a pulled-up bush right afore you, you’ll know it’s me, and that all goes ‘ well.” “ All right then,” replied the sergeant. ” It wants four hours of sundown. We shall camp then I sup se?’ “'At sun own I shall be with you. Wait here one hour, then start.” With these words he left them, and as he de- sired I.g‘liiey followed when the time indicated had ex i . he trapper had a motive for this line of con- duct which may be easily explained. He knew fleet” well that in all probability the Indians left some few scouts to watch for any ur- suing force. So long as the arty of soldiers were tOgether they could not e ude the observa— tion of these scouts; in fact, they would almost certainly be heard at some considerable distance. But, alone, he could secretly advance and meet the stealthy foe in his own manner. 1 Leaving the trail from time to time, first on one side and then on the other, but never for any considerable time, he began now to examine the traces to be met with, more closely than before. He kept as much as possible within the shadow of trees also, and when an open space had to be crossed, glided over it with great speed, seeking the next shelter immediately. In this way he moved along, and not a Sign of the savages escaped his attention. He mounted trees occa- sionally too, and scanned the horizon earnestly. ' This process continued for over two hours, but Without result. The job was to be along one, however, as he had expressed it, and two hours ms not much time to have lost. “ And yet,” he muttered to himself, as he stood r l leaning upon the muzzle of his rifle, “ and yet it’s awful danger for the captain; if he ets out of it—still, I’ve had my chances too, an there’s always hope while there’s life.” So saying he took an awful chunk of tobacco from his pouch, and thrust it into his cheek with a grunt, as if there was comfort in the weed anyhow. Shouldering, then, his piece, he began his march again. At this point the timber was scattered i - larly in clumps of a dozen trees to ether, w1th thick underbrush between them. ‘ tty rough place,” he thought, “ for honest folks, and red- skins anywhere near.” A true enough remark, for the thought had hardly crossed his mind when a sha crack echoed through the forest, and a ball, W 'zzing by his head, left a deep furrow in the hair of his hunting-cap. Quick as lightning Dean leaped toward the nearest tree and climbed into its topmost bougbs. The maneuver served its purpose, for, looking closely around, he saw the little uff of blue smoke for which he watched, slow y rise a bun» dred yards of? and drift away into space. “ Ah! this is better sport than I’ve had for years,” he said, with a grim smile overspread- mg his hardy features. “The game’s begun, has it? Well, I’m ready.” To descend was the work of a few seconds, and, snatching the rifle which he had laid down, he uietl waitedz completely hidden by the brudhwoo into which he crouched. There could not be more than two Indians, perhaps but one, he thought. Time would show. One or the other must la a first card, he knew, and he would not e but one. Half an hour passed, the trapper’s keen ears listening, and his keen eyes watching. Presently he saw a slight motion in a bush not above twenty yards ofl', and kept his glance upon it. The mo- tion was hardly more than some wild animal might make, but, whatever was the cause, the trapper’s rifle, hidden among the leaves 0! his own covert, pointed straight and true. Sud— denly the leaves rustled again, and then. as a. report rung clear and lend, a form leaped into the air and fell headlong down. Two shots were fired almost at the same instant from close by the prostrate figure, and two Indians came bounding forward to where Dean knelt low. It was to be a fight now. But Dean was pre- pared. His revolver was leveled at the fore— most man in a second, and the trigger pulled. It missed fire! “ Blast the thing,” he muttered, and then flung it With all his force at the In- dian. Clear between his eyes it took him, and he rolled over like a log, complete] stunned. Seeing this, the other savage pau , clubbing his rifle. The two men gazed at each other for a brief space and then leveled tremendous blows at each other. It was a. clums kind of war- fare as the Indian seemed to 17 ink, however, for flinging the Weapon away he rushed upon fihe trapper with his knife gleaming in his and ' This, too, suited Job Dean, who closed with, a sort of stern glee u n his antagonist. hi.fl own blade ready for the atal stroke. The Indian at once made a fearful lungs upon the other, but was caught by the arm with a vise-like grasp, J ob Dean’s Tactics. 11 his own hand. however, similarly held by the other’s left. Thus they stood looking into each other’s faces, and a stalwart pair they were. But each began the struggle to release himself, and it was long and fiene. They bent to and fro like twincd snakes, and their muScles Sirain— ed with all their might. But the lrapper's right hand slowly pressed t‘; e Indian’s gradually Lack until th’w pent rencht‘d his breast. The blade Lit decp, and the Indian sunk dead upon the ground. Thus, two were killed and the other ast fight- ing. The heavy revolver had cracke the skull of the third, who expired shortly after. “ Now, I’ll wait for the so’gers,” said be, after reloading his rifle, and recapping his revolver. Presently the boys came along steadily and quietly, and to them he showed the three dusky forms. 'l‘liey n ere considerably astonished of course, and gazed long upon the prostrate bodies and their conqueror, who stood a little apart, leaning upon his rifle. “Boys,” said he, “I fou’t ’em fair, and licktx .” “And glad we are to see it so, Job,” said the sergeant, extending his hand" :‘ I know ye are, boys. But come, let’s be moving. We’ll leave those varmints where the are.” The march was at once resumed, and as be— fore the trapper passed ahead, though this time he contented himself with movingr about a quar- ter of a mile in front of the soldiers. He argued, and justly, that whatever Indian scouts covered the rear of the main body of the save es were now disposed of, and that in all pi'oba ility no more obstructions of that nature were to be ex- pected. CHAPTER VI. AS MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED. LET us leave, for awhile, the little party who were tracking their lost captain, and return to the frontier station where we left Harmer Dor- lon in the care of his new friend, nay, more than friend, Margaret Boynton. That the two young people, thrown together by the accident of war, should take a far deeper interest in each other than would be callt-d forth ‘ by an intercourse carried on in crowded draw- ing-rooms, or in the varied pleasures of fashion and her votarios, was natural: more, it was in- evitable. There was, besides, on the girl‘s part, the double, emotion of grief for what she had lost, and pity for what she saw before her. Dorlon was a young man who would catch the eye and please the fancy of any girl whose heart was still free. But, when he lay helpless before her, when his eyes, closed for long, opened at last as though a dream was all thht lay before them; when his feeble hand tried in vain to raise itself to her, and the tongue refused to {Pillllt‘ia single word, she had been full of pity, 11“ “Cl . We have already said they loved each other: but no word had yet been spoken by either, of that love. Pure as the violet, sweet as the honeycomb, it needed little skill to read the language of those downeast eyes. Nor could she doubt. why, when he spoke to her, there was a strange tenderness, an almosttrembling ten~ gemess, whose tones she had never heard be— ore. The old man—was be blind, or would he not see, thought Harmer? But, he was not blind, and he intended to see just as far as possible into the new phase of his daughter’s life. The subject was full of anxiety for several reasons. In the first place, the very idea of Margaret, his “ Polly,” having now, in their desolate con— dition, any love to spare for any other than her father, was painful to him in the extreme. Then, again, who and what was that Harmer? Did he mean the girl well? 7 “ Mrs. I-Iefi‘ernan,” said he, one evening, as he sat watching her put the finishing touches to a. smart bonnet, “ what do you think about it?” “ Save the man! Is it what am I thinking about, Mister Boynton?” replied the portly, good-hearted woman. " Well, you see yonder but?” “ 7Deed door atune the but an my eyesight. " “ You know who lies there, or rather now sits up there, and will soon be well enough to walk out of there?" “See, now. Mr. Bo 'nton, I’m not good at r riddles: but I think guess your meaning; anyh’pw, speak your mind. Is it about the irle “ God help and bless her, yes.” “ And what is it that ye fear?” “ Everything, friend, and yet—” 1 “ Oh, bother with your nonsensel- Sure, they’re as purty a couple as ever danced on a: barn-door in the dear ould isle we leftbehind_ ’ us.” “They are; but, beauty is a snare, and youth unheeding.” . “Mister Boynton, I’d have you know that. our captain has no rapscallions among the mus— . tor—roll of his friends,” replied she, angrily. I “ No, I did not mean to say that he had. F01», j give me if I seemed to doubt the honor of young Dorlon.” “ Forgive! It’s forgotten already. As for the young man, I’d go bail for him; and small blame to him if he does lose his heart, even if your daughter finds it." . “ But, there is more in this than you think. They may learn to love each other; nay, look and tell me if the do not already.” The rosy dame ooked over his shoulder, as he pointed. Truly a. pretty sight was that she saw. 7 I. The hut door, opened wide, showed all within its folds; a dim twilight had begun to gather, ‘ ‘1 round, and within there was a lantern hanging, whose rays beamed softly down upon the yout - ful pair. his weak body as Comfortably as a mother’s . arms. A smile was on his face. and he gazed into hers; she, seated at his feet 3 ground, rested her hand timidly upon his which lay upon his knee. It was love“ that shone in the faces of both, love that spoke in every attf- ’ - tude and gesture. :., , The old man looked at them long and eagerly, *: lost as it were in a silent trance from which he ‘ r could not rouse himself. But he turned sud: a denly round as Mrs. Hefleman laid her tremw , bling hand upon his shoulder. x do, whin ye’re not blocking up the , He was sitting on a pile of blankets ‘ which were heaped around him, and supported ' 2 n the, J, {Twenfiunf :3 WA“ 18 ' Job Dean’s Tactics. “ Holy angels guard them." she whispered in a broken voice, as tears filled her eyes. “It’s our young days back again I see over there. Can on look on them unmoved l” “ o, no more than on; but, she is all in all to me: she’s a. good gir , too.” “ Let her be happy as well, then.” “ That’s just what I would do. But, see here, Mrs. Heifernau, that young man is a gentle- man, doubtless, and a scholar. How would his friends look upon the humble bride that he brought them from the wilderness?” “ Well, now, that’s the quarest thing of all. When Tom and meself fixed up to come to this new land, he said that here was liberty, that here all were equal. I was glad to come where I could be what Pd 3. right to bo—ous good as any of them. Was I wrong?” “Certainly not; on the contrary, you were perfectly right.” “ Just so. Now, Mr. Boynton, ye‘s a. Yankee, born an’ bred?” “ I am so, born and bred.” “ And ye believe in the talk of your country— men on this equality?” , “ I hope so; but this case is different.” “ There is no difl’erence in it. A young fellow and a girl that love each other are on the same , level before their God and before the world, too, if, the world has any sinse or feeling.” g “ They ought to he, I know.” 4’“ They are, even if she was taken from a 'mud cabin, and he a king wid his goolden crown upon his head.” “The world is hard, madam; it does not '~ ° 71 Judge as we would Judge. rue for you; it is hard; but she would be the angel of any man’s house, the star of any man’s th, however hi h he is.” “ Sti l I must talk w1t her.” “That‘s only proper. The confidence she ‘ gives yen will make her happier and safer too.” “ And shall I talk to him, too!” “No: time enough; but, stay, I’ll help ye in this, or my name’s not Bridget. I’ll talk to him v m self—that is if it’s pl’asin’ to ye.” ‘ Indeed, indeed, I thank you. Find out all you can. and take a father’s gratitude." The shrewd lrishwomau was as kind as she was sensible in her offer to ascertain for herself and Polly’s father how the land lay in respect to Harmer Dorlon. That young man might or might not be in love with his fair nurse. There was plenty of true love. in the world, but, alas, ' magg imitating, the reel article. That Polly 10v him was beyond the shadow of a, doubt, but was be acting merely the role of ‘adorer. “ Men is but deceivin’ cre‘turs,” said Mrs. Hel- fernan, to herself. But then a smile came over her face as she remembered that her Tom was no deceiuer, and that other women might be as well mated as herself. Thus reflecting, she en- " tered the but where the youno: people were. “Good—evenln’ to ye. Mr. Harmer. It’s got- , ting hearty and strong ye are already, as can be seen plainly enough." “ Many thanks, yes. My kind friend here, may I not call her my dear nurse, has taken as 7 ‘ [much care of me as if I belonged to her.” “We all belong to each other in time of 2 trouble, young man,” gravely replied the older woman. “A true doctrine, but not often followed,” laughed he, in reply. “ Seriously, I owe her. a. debt of gratitude that I shall die without pay- ing, I think, if I live to be a hundred.” ” There you are wrong again. You can pa her in your heart’s feelings, in your honomblz dealin toward others, if you never see her gain. “ God forbid that we should ever—J “ Margaret, you are tired," hastily interrupt- ed the trooper’s wife. “I came to give you a. chance to rest a bit; so be off out of this, quick.” “ Indeed, I need no rest,” replied Polly, eager- I ly. “ Indeed and indeed yourself, then. Master Dorlon will spare ye t' l to-morrow morning, and I’ll sit wid him an hour or two to-nigbt.” “ I really couldn’t-—” begun Harmer. “ Of course not, honey; but the Order’s posted and has to be obeyed. Good-night, Polly.” “ Well, I must go, I suppose, so I will. Good- by, sir.’ “ Shake hands,_then. Stay, I want to whis— per something to you.” As she bent down over him, he drew her gently lower, and kissed her tenderly. Mrs. Hefi'ernan, strangely enough,’had turned her back at that precise moment, but we think she heard a little sound as of lips meeting, and we know, that with a broad smile all ever her face, she absently touched her own with her strong hand. But there was to be no more of this, as there would have been, perhaps, if she had not turned round a in and laughingly pushed the girl out oil-,the oo . “ Haven’t ye a kiss for me, my dear?” she nrchly demanded. But Polly half laughed, half cried, as she whispered: “Not to—night, dear Mrs. Hefleman, for area- son that I have." Once the girl gone, the woman became silent and grave. Seating herself on a low stud at a. little distance from Dorlon, she pulled out her knitting-needles, and began to work steadi- y“ Why, what‘s the matter?” said he, at length, after having looked at her wonderingly for some time. “ I’Iothing—that is, nothing that you care for.’ “ How can I tell, if I do not know what it is?” “ That’s true enough. But it doesn’t concern You, anyway,” “You only make me more curious. Is it any- thing in which I can help you?” “ Help mel There’s not a living soul, except Tom, that I’d ask for help. Bridget Heflernan has so far got along without being under obliga- tion to any one, young man.” “ I was sure of it, but I thought I’d ask. Does any one else need help that I can 've?" “ There is one who needsit badly. . Boyn— ton has to bear an awful calamity.” “ I know, I know, and I pity him with my whole heart.” “He has lost all who loved him, except the deer girl who was with you just new,” wet, it v. 50?»:- I Job Dean’s Tactics. 13 A faint blush overspread Dorlon’s face, but he answered, calmly: “ That is true, also—~miserably true. does he seem?" “Sadly enough. It is a total break—up for him. The savages not only took the life of his * loved ones, but carried away or destroyed all that he had to start him with in this wilderneSS . of a lace.” “ hat does he propose to do?l If money—” “ That‘s it; if some friend would lend him—-" How , " Lendl I’ll give him what he wants as free: 1y as it he was my brother.” “ I knew you would if you were able. He would stay hereabout where there will be some protection, for a year or two at least, if he takes my advice; but, he wants to be away—he says the lace is cursed.” “ 0 go East again?" " No, I think South.” “ And she?” “ Will be with him of course. What else did you dream of?" “ She must not, nor must he.” “Hoity toity; you would be giving your or— ders, would ye? But the are nothing to you, and when they leave t is you will never see either of them again. Ah, ’tis a purty girl she is, and he’s a fine old man. ' “ Mrs. Reflex-nan, I love that girl.” “Then it’s more than ever right she should never set her eyes on you again. You’ve never told her this?” “ I have. And she returns my love.” “ I am very sorry for it,” said she earnestly. “ What on earth do you mean? Isn't it enou h that we understand each other?” “ ou understand yourself? See here, Dorlon armer, I’ll be plain wid ye. You have been thrown in this girls way, or she has been thrown in yours, at a time when she was bound down with a heavy aifliction. She found some consolation in tending- you as you lay there wounded, an’ perhaps to die. ’Twasn’t un- natural that her heart opened to you. As for you, away from home, among strangers, no wo— man’s face besides hers except to own near you our heart opened to her. Is t at it?” “ ell, there’s truth in that; but I should have loved her anywhere, and under any cir- cumstances." “ Don’t be so sure of it. You’ve fancied many a pretty girl before, if I don’t mistake the nature or you youn men.’ ‘ On my onor, no. I never did. As she is my first love, so will she be my last.” ,, 'And your parents—they’re rich I‘m told?” “ Tolerany so.” “ And what people call genteel.” “ You make me ugh. Well, yes, they are of old and hi hly respectable families.” “ And ’ye think they will be over pleased when they find out how the visit to the poor captain has ended?” “ No matter it they are not. made up. She will be my wife.” “ If you mean this, young man; if true to her in spite of all the world, ridget Heifernan’s blessing will go with on wherever you are. Have you he to her ether?” " I shall as soon as see My mind is 011 are him.” “Another thing—he‘ll beloncly without her. Doesn’t it seem hard? See what he suffers now.” “ You do not suppose that I am such a brute as to propose separating them ‘3” “ Again my blessing on you.” ' “ Of course time must pass before we can be married. The grief must have time to soften before we can be happy. Meanwhile the sooner I s ak to Mr. Boynton the better. But, good- nig ”I; now; you must be tired, and I need noth- in . g‘ Good-night, and pleasant dreams.” And they were pleasant dreams, in which his pain and wounds were forgotten. and a fair. young form held him company through pleasant valleys, and by the side of silvery streams, that murmured tales of love in the imagination of the sleeper. CHAPTER VII. A NIGHT scour. IT was the third day of the pursuit and day- light was coming to a close. For the soldiers to have proceeded in the darkness Would havebeen rash even if possible, and preparations were . therefore made to halt until the dawn. This enforced idleness worried the boys sadly, how- ever. They did not, could not, know but every hour might be the last of their beloved captain. They could not tell but by this time the council— flre had been succeeded by the torture and the murder. Not a man of the troop slept, and the , ‘ ickets which watched over that bivouac in crest were watching over those whose ears and 1 . eyes were as vigilant as their own. But, while the soldiers watched there was one I who could not take even a waking rest. The trapper, long inured to toil, and accustomed for years to find his home in the solitudes of nature ,_ —his companionship in the lonely wilderness-- was up an doing. ' “Poor boys,” said he softly to himself, as ; leaning against a gi antic oak, he gazed around ' - him, upon the ha ly visible outlines of bursa and men: “ Poor boys, they haven‘t seen much . of life as yet, it the life 1 lead is life. Let ’em rest; they need it. And I—well live my work to do, and, till it’s done, no sleep shall close these V w: eyes, no turf be my bed.” With one lon ook at the stars, and one lon look at the sol iers, he glided softly away, not one man knew that his place was vacant. As stated, the trapper knew that the three dead scouts were all that were likely to be met ', a: with until the Earty arrived in the immediate proximity of t e main body of savages. ‘30 new also, that the main body was not far dis- ’ taut, and with the coolness natural to him, and. ' taught by a long experience of hardship and danger, he resolved upon a night reconnaissance alone. Glancing at the stars which now became visi— ble as the colder night-air condensed the mists ', of sunset, be commenced his solitary march. The direction of his route he decided, with un- . { erring instinct, to be that in which he already had made "considerable progress; and in that (11- V V rection he soon disappeared. For five miles or thereabouts, he slowly and cautiously stepped, often pausing to listen to ’ l least sound. 14 Job Dean’s Tactics. At length-something attracted his attention, and he sunk noiselessly upon the ground listening intently. Nothing was visible, at a faint cry of a woman weeping scarcely stirrer] the air, almost close to him. Such an unusual voice was almost terrifying, from its mystery in that lmely place, but, with tho ut— ' most circumspection, he gradually crept nearer to where the sound seemed heard. Presently all was still and he heard it no more. But just as he turned to look around, a dusky form confronted him at not ten yards’ distance! Strange to say, the savage, for it was one, failed _ to see him. .where _ . - journey from his companions. Evidentlv the Indian encampment was close at hand. Evidently the solitary Indian was a Sentinel over its probably sleeping inmates. At all events if he was a sentinel he was faithful to his trust, for he seemed un