om 6,1835.

 

No. 234.

$2.50
a Year.

Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams,
No. 98 WILLIAM Sm. NEW YORK.

Price,
Five Cents.

Vol. XVIII.

 

 

..

 

w

‘ V'fk I
“\NHM‘é/f 

'l‘ x

,
A/ LAW/V

 

 

 

 

 

I 01d Kyle’s Long Tramp.

 

flldaiyle’s Lung Tramp;

ZEKE, THE RENEGADE.

BY HENRY J. THOMAS,

AUTHOR or “ QUnnN BESSIE, THE BORDER GIRL,”
arc. , ETC. V

 

CHAPTER I.
A STRANGE ADVENTURE. 4
Ir began to look Very much as if Brandon
Havens was caught in a den ,erous dilemma.
He had been on a hunting expe ition, and on the
previous day had become separated from‘ the
 main party, and was hopelessly lost.

Furthermore, during the entire night and
most of the foreman, the windows of heaven had
been opened and the floods had poured down
upon theearth, with all the exuberance of a trop-
ical storm. The Rattlesnake River, along the
bank of which he had been rambling, had begun
rising the day before. as the result of the deluge
near its head-waters away up in the Rocky
Mountains; so that now, in addition tothe dis-
comfort of feeling that he was lost, was the em—
phatically unpleasant sensation of certainty
that be was caught in the focus of the freshet.

Which happened in this manner.

Rattlesnake River was a large stream, which
finally debouched into the Mississippi; but in
this section of Iowa it received the waters of a
tributary, which put into it at quite a sharp
angle.

This junction took place something less than
a mile below the point where we find Brandon

, Havens standing, and for a long‘distance above,

‘ scarcely halt a mile separated t a two streams,
wlhlch gradually converged until the union took
p ace. -

On the long narrow ninsula. separating these
two streams, Havens ad wandered oi! with his
dog and gun, not knowing that there was no es-
ca below. and that he was being rapidly shut
in y the rising volume of water above him.

But as be advanced, and the war of» rushing
waters increased on every hand, a. suspicwn..of
the true state of t e case began to dawn upon
his mind, and be checked his footste , with the
uncomfortable sensation of a man w o feels that
a‘great danger is hearing steadily down upon
him, while 9 is deprived of the ability to get
out of its path.

As he stood facing north, he could see the mud-
dy waters of, the Rattlesnake on the left, rush-
ing impetuously forward. hearing it 11 its sur-
face u rooted trees stumos, brush. ogs, and all
the dc Wis gathered by a large river, when, the
first time, for a Ion while, it overleaps its
bounds, and hurries 'w th its varied freight on
toward the ocean.

On the right, almost the same sight met his

. vision, exce t perhaps that the tributary, al-

though swol on to triple its usual size, was still
» 0' less volume than the Rattlesnake; but, it
seemed, if possible, to contain a greater mass of
631tth than the main stream.

\ ,
Q

 

Here and there, scattered over the dry land
upon which the young hunter was standing,
were large trees, while quite a plentiful mass of
undergrowth was interspersed between. Havens
was already Wet to the skin, from his continued
tramp through the wilderness, made wet by the
previous rain. '

“ This begins to look serious, Wolf," said be,
addressing his dog. “ If you can lead the we
out of the trouble, you can do more than
Suppose I climb this tree here, and see whether
I can take our bearings.” ,

The dog whined and moved uneasily about. as
if a vague sense of the common danger had im-
pressed itself upon him; but he was as powerless
as his master, and waited while the latter hastily
climbed the no iest tree.

In a few moments the latter reached the top,
and then, with his eye, carefully swept every
port of the horizon.

The prospect could not have been worse. The
river on either hand swelled to the dimensions
of a lake. As far as the eye could reach, the
Rattlesnake 5 read, until, where it swept over
the woods, on y the swaying tops of the trees
could be Seen.

It was the same with the other stream. Over-
whelmed by the volume of water precipitated
upon them from the network of rivers above,
the only relief was in its widening out over the
vast area of level land which composed the val-
ley of the rivers.

The streams united a quarter of a mile beIOW,
although the usual point of junction was more
than double that distance, and with everymxn-
ute of the tumultuous rush, the lower, PO‘nt 0f
the land was sinking under the combined vol-
ume ol’ both currents.

Turning his eye to the northward, almost pre- ‘
cisely the same thing was to be observed there. i
There being a fall or depression in the land, the
two rivers, at a pointseveral hundred yards dlS-
tant, bad overflowed the intervening land, so
that in fact the hunter was beleaguered upon an
island, which was rapidly going under the
water.

Such was the situation of our hero at the mo-
ment we introduce him to our reader. The af-
ternoon was quite advanced, and in his wander-
in he had not eaten a mouthful since the pre-
c ing day.

Wet chilled and hungry, with many miles in—
terven ng between him and the part he had
left in such hopeful spirits, and with t e inten-
tion of rejoining them at nightfall—while the
tumultuous tide swept u n every side—while it
crept up higher and highgr, nearer and nearer
as if angry and impatientl'or its rey, that cool
only shrink and draw himself w thin himself—
we say that in such a situation as this, the lot
of Brandon Havens was not to be envied by any '
one.

The young hunter did not deacend until he
had made a. careful reoonnoissanoe of his p981-
tion, and had computed as accurately as passable
his real peril.

The first plan that naturally suggested itself
was that oi! remaining in the tree until the flood
subsided enough for him to resume his tramp to
the north ward, retracing his steps as nearly a5
possible.

 

 

 

 

a,

 s... «we 


é

 

 

,m.". 2;»

 

 

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. ‘ 8

 

But there were several fatal objections to this.
From the swiftness with which the water was
rising the island upon which he stood would
probably be submerged to the depth of several
feet before morning. It was not improbable
that the depth would be still greater, in which
case the tree would undoubtedly be uprooted
and borne downward with the swift current,
and even should it breast the rush of water and
stand firm, it would be likely to require several
days before the subsidence would allow him to

9 leave his perch—a time sufficient for him to
starve to death.

Besides this, therise would sweep his dog away
and drown him, a prospect which occasioned
Havens more pain than his own dan er, for
there are few stronger attachments in this

, world than that which exists between the hunter
and his faithful dog, and the last thought that
he could entertain with any degree of equanimi-
ty was that of separating from the true and
tried Companion of his rambles.

All this was many years ago, when Iowa was
a “howling wilderneSs,” and the wild animal
was less dreaded than the wild Indian.

Brandon Havens and a half-dozen others had
ventured into this solitude on a hunt, when he
had become separated in the manner men-
tioned, and was in the dilemma which has been
described.

'The only possible course that seemed open to
him was todescend to the ground, prepare a
sort of raft as quickly as possible, and embark
upon the rushing current.

“ We will be sure to come out somewhere,” be
reflected, as he descended the tree, “ and that is
more than we can expect if we remain here.”

But an appalling obstacle presented itself.
No material 'was available of which a raft could
bemade. ~Wood there was in abundance, but
at the present it was growing firmly in the
ground, and he had not the means at hand to
extract it.

Loose, buoyant logs, such as he needed. were
a seeping by him in the current. but none were
Within reach from where he stood.

However, Havens could only trust to Provi-
dence and prepare for the worst. He strapped

his rifle firmly to his hack, fastened his other‘

weapons and clothing as securely as possible,
and was ready to meet whatever the Fates
might bring him.

Havens was a capital swimmer, and he was

now to make an attempt to turn it to account.
He'had resolved to plunge into the river, and
sw1m out to the first goodly~sized 10 that it
looked possible to reach. Astride of t is, with
lVolf alongside, there was the certainty of be—
ing carried somewhere, even if not into the Gulf
of Mexico. _
. The hunter took his station within a few
inches of the water’s edge. He had stood there
but ten minutes whenxit had crept up to his feet,
and when the same time had again passed, his
moccasms were completely covered with the
cold current.

Suddenly his e e caught the prong-like roots
and branches 0 an immense oak that came
rushin down the streams, tossing, sinking and
l‘lSng, ike some sea- monster struggling in

. agony.

 

“That is to be our raft, Wolf,”he exclaimed,
wading out a few steps, so as to be ready to in-
tercept it at the proper moment.

At the very instant of starting, a Whine from
the dog arrested his attention.

Following the direction in which the dumb
animal was gazing, Havens was not a little sur-
frised to observe an Indian canoe coming swift-

y down upon the tossing waves of yellow
Water.

His first impression was that an additional
danger, but a second glance showed him that it
contained no one, or if so, the occupant was in~
visible.

“ Ah, Wolf! that is fortunate l” he exclaimed,
the next moment. “ If we can get into that,
we stand some chance of doing something for
ourscIVes.” ‘

No time was to be lost. and the next minute
the young hunter had waded out to his waist.
Here the force of the current was so strong that
he could barely maintain himself, but he man-
aged to hold on until the cockle-shell of a vessel
had danced almost opposite, when he boldly
stepped into deeper water, and the next moment
was brtvcly combating the stream.

Had our hero been an experienced hunter. he
would have seen that in the appearance of the
Indian cunoo which, to say the least was sus-
picious. “

Light and buoyant as it was, it should have
floated like a cork, while the depth to which it
sunk showed conclusive] that there was some
weight inside to make it 0 this.

True, it might be the water which it had re-
ceived from the falling rain, or which had been
dashed into it, as it was tossed hither and
thither; but there was the greater probabilit
tfiat it was something more important than
t at.

But no suspicion entered the head of Brandon
Havens, as he bravely breasted the waves, and
struck out toward the boat, intent only upon
gaining the prize.

As he swam, with the do at his side, the latter
outswam him. and reache the canoe first. Put-
ting bis aws upon the gunwale, Wolf was
about to cap in, when he abruptly loosened his
hold and swam away again.

This action was strange, to say the least, and 1

for the first time, a thrill of suspicion shot
through the breast of the hunter, and with his
hand almost upon the edge of the boat, he hesi-
tated and floated idly beside it.

But his situation was too serious to admityotv
delay, and swimming directly beside the canoe.

he raised himself suddenly and careful] half
his length out of the water, taking 0 care
not to touch the canoe with his han , nor to

make any plashing or unusual noise.

Thi< gave him his coveted view of the interior
of the boat, and this is what he saw!

A human figure covered with an Indian
bl mket and a shawl]

The first supposition of the hunter was that it
was a savage asleep. ~

“ And that bein the case, I had better make
myself scarce,” re voted Havens, as he turned
about and began paddling away. :

But he had taken scarcely a dozen strokes,
when something restrainedhim. ,

 

 

 

r
,
,.
v

 

4 Old Kyle's Long Tramp.

r

“ Perhaps it is not an indianl It may be a
friend!”

Impellcd by an influence which he could not
understand, Brandon soon found himself beside
the boat again.

The second look disclosed the person lying in
the same position, but there was a foot incased
in a moccasin visible.

And this was so small and symmetrical that
he was certain it could belong to none but a wo-
man, and not of common birth.

Why was she here? Had she been carried
away from her home somewhere up the country
or was she a. captive of the Indians, who had
been freed by the interposition of the freshot?

A slight, petite form, covered with a shawl,
nothing but one foot visiblcl

And that foot as if it might belong to a prin-
cess of royal blood]

Perhaps to some Chieftain’s daughter, who
had wandered off upon the bosom of the rushing
river, who had toiled with the paddle at her
side, until, exhausted, she lay down and slept
the dreamless sleep of a child of nature?

Perhaps she was dead, and had been set adrift
by her not'unfeeling parents, who deemed this
a. fitting tomb for one who had been reared in
th 'ir lodge? ,.

f living. wzis she aware of the danger to
which she was subjected? Did she know that
wild beasts might steal upon and destroy her as
she sleptll

Did she no. know that there were wild men in
these solitu 10; who were more dangerous eVen
than the wild beasts?

These were the questions which thronged up-
on his minl as he floated doubtineg beside the
canoe.

“ Is she dead?”

That motionless silence, that indifference to
the eril by which she was surrounded, all locked
as i she were not of this world.

Havens had floated beside the boat until he
found himself growing tired, when he concluded
that it was time to act.

His weight careeued the boat greatly, but it
disturbed not the sleeper, and he succeeded in

getting into the canoe without injury to its deli:

cute structure. ~

Wolf quickly followed, and the combined
weight of the inmates sunk it quite low in the
current.

There was just room inside for himself and
dog without disturbing the sleeper, whose feet

" alone were visible, as they peeped from beneath

the rich, brilliant shawl which enveloped her
form.

' A small Indian paddle lay within the boat be—
side h(\l‘,’llld Havens succeeded in lifting it with-
out disturbing her in the least.

Before indulging in any further speculations
regarding the unknown, prudence told the
hunter to take his bearings.

One glance sho wed that he was in a vast
waste of water. The surging, rushing mass of

'yellow fluid, dashed here and there into foam,

' theimmense breadth stretching out on every

hand, the swaying, up-torn trees, and the large
amount of debris—all these betokened the great
extent of the freshet.

Whither was he going?

n

Then cum-3 the important query again:

 

Havens knew that the Rattlesnake River
found its way into the Mississippi, and so on
eventually to the Gulf of Mexico, but how fur
below his present situation the junction took
place he could only conjecture.

Away up in this wild section of the country,
where he had been warned against the fury of
the Indians, who were now upon the war-path,
he knew there was danger of encountering
them at any time, and he never raised his eyes
without a shudder, lest he should see some 0
these dreaded red-skins near at hand. ‘ 0

But the coast was clear, and his thoughts
naturally reverted to the unknown being “ith
whom he was being home swiftlydownward up-
on the rushing waters.

Already a sort of romantic interest had taken
possession of him, and he found himself a. prey
to the most intense curiosity.

Could it be that she was dead?

A cold fear ran over him at the thought, and
he felt almost like plunging into the cold river
again, were such the case.

All the time, Havens, from some cause which
he could not give. looked upon the stronger as
of his own race and blood; but every indication
was that she was an Indian. ’

However, his curiosity was becoming so great
that he decided to gratify it at once.

Respectfully and reverentially, be bent to—
ward her and slowly and carefully drew the
shawl from the face of the sleeping unknown,
and with a beating heart leaned forward, as
the mariner gazes out upon the vasty deep in
his attempt to define the dim sail.

To his unbounded surprise, the movement re-
vealed the face of a young woman, of his own
race, and one, too, or extraordinary grace and
beauty. v

CHAPTER II.
A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.

BRANDON Havens was dumb with amaze-
merit!

"New", in all his wanderings, had he encoun-
tered what seemed to him such form and feet-
ures of marvelous beauty. As she lay. with
the side of her face upon her arm, the pink tint
of the sea-shell was upon the well-rounded
cheek, and the penciled eyebrows were as if
drawn in ink. A mass of luxuriant dark hair
rippled and rolled away in a negligent manner
over the symmetrical shoulders. while the faint,
gonadal- breathing betokened not death, but rosy

on th.

Slight as was the withdrawing of the shawl,
it awakened the fair slee r. The Sweep of the
cool air upon the alias was probably what
aroused her; for. while the hunter was gazing;r
in rapt admiration. she suddenly opened her
eyes, and gazed about her with the confused air
of one when awakening from a profound sleep.

Natural! her first glance fell upon Brandon
Havens, w 10 could not avoid a smile at her ex—
treme amazement; but he politely raised his
hat, and she immediately came to a sitting po-I
sition, and stared quickly, and successively in
every direction, as it she had not the remotest
idea of her situation.

Then in the gasping tones or complete be

 

 

ii. ?'

, “use. ..



 

 

 

fix. f'.

i;
ll 1.

w...“ .

5’1“.

' “cw;

 

 

 

».

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp: S

 

wildermeut, she asked, turning toward her com-
panion: V

“ Where am I?”

“ Safe,” was the reply of the hunter, who
again bowed pleasantly to her.

“ Who are on?"

“ Brandon avens, your humble servant.”

“ How came I here?" ‘ I

As succinctly as possible our hero related the
particulars of what has already been given the
reader. During the recital, the girl listened
like one who was dreaming, or whose thoughts
were far away.

So great was her abstraction, that the narra—
tor suspected she did not hear his words, and
paused.

“ Go on,” she instantly said, and so be com—
pleted his story,,adding, when he had finished:

“ Some strange .chance has thrown us to—
gether, fair lady, and it will not be long, in all

robahility, before we separate. For however

ong or short a time it may be my privilege to

he in your society, my wish is that when we
separate, you will recall nothing that will cause
you regret that our meeting ever occurred.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgment, but
made no further reply to this. .

Havens was silent or a few moments, but
his curiosity was too great for him to remain so
very long.

“ Sure y you will allow me to ask your
name?"

“ Adrian Woodland.” V

“As pleasing a name as is your general up

" pfarguce," thought the hunter, and he added.
a ou ;

“ My surprise was never greater than When I
swam out to the canoe and found you in it.”

“I did not know that I was here or even in
the boat, until I was awakened.”

“ That is strange,” exclaimed Havens, and he
then awaited the succeeding explanation; but
it did not come.

“ Do not your friends know of what has be-
falleu you-of your sad misfortune?”

“ Friends?” she repeated, looking at the
speaker with such amournful expression, that
he was touched to the heart. “ I have no
friends.”

“ You have one, who is ready to risk his life
for you,” exclaimed Havens, who was earliest
in his enthusiastic devotion to the unknown fair
one, who had been so singularly thrown upon
his protection. “ Have no fears while it is my
privilege to promt you.”

She covered her face, as if overcome. with
emotion, at the recollection of some great mis-
fortune, while the hunter respectfully main-
tained silence until she overcame her grief and
was herself again.

” I trust I do not invade

. express my curiosity as to
this anomalous positim?"

This was said in a most decidedly interroga-
tlve manner, and the reply was awaited with an
annety which it would be difficult to express.

' But it did not come. From some cause or
other, Adrian Woodland showed no disposition
to reveal what certainly was an extraordinary
history. '

She had turned her head aside, and was look-

our privacy, if I
0w you came in

 

ing off over the water, which stretched away
like a vast inland sea. They were then in the
immediate vicinity of a large forest. The tops
of the trees protruded above the water like
COIIll’IlOIl rushes, and seemed to the two in the
canoe to be dashing up against the current with
a furious impetuosity, impossible to imagine.

In a few minutes, this piece of woods, num-
bering many acres in extent, was passed, and
they danced forward a ain upon the broaden-
ing, yellow waters, wit their limitless freight
of logs, trees, stumps and debris.

Then she gradually turned her head, until she
gazed directly up the river, while Havens, hold-
ing the paddle in his hand, impatiently awaited
her reply.

She had looked but a few moments, when she
started and exclaimed:

“Therel they comel”

“ Whom do you mean '9’” asked the hunter, fol-
lowing the direction of her finger and failing to
see anything at all.

“ The Indians 1” she answered, again covering
her face and shuddering, as if seeking to shut
out some fearful picture or scene from her
thoughts.

The hunter carefully raised himself until he
was standing nearly erect in the boat, and then
gazed keenly up-stream, but he detected noth—
ing that looked like a canoe or boat, in which,
if she really saw the red-skins, they must have
been.

Resolved to press all the questions he could
without using rudeness, he continued:

“ To what tribe of Indians do they belong?”

“ Delaware." .

“Ah! yes; I have heard that there are some
of those people in the upper part of Iowa Terri~
tor .

This was said al: a venture, as Brandon knew
nothing of the sort. <

“ You must have been mistaken,” said he,
“ in thinking they Were following us. I have
looked carefully up stream, and can see noth-
ing of them.”

“ No; I was not wrong,” she replied. “ There
are a half—dozen of them in a log canoe, and
they are paddling very fast after me. Can we
not get away from them?” >

“ They must pass over my dead body to reach '

on 1'

y This may have a boastful look as our readers
see it, but Brandon Havens was in earnest when
he uttered it, and he would have fought for that
friendless fair one with all the bravery of a

,chevalier of the olden times.

“ You cannot keep them away," she wailed.
“ They can paddle faster than you, and theyare
coming—I know they are.”

Her singular persistency had its effect upon,
Havens, who began to believe that she might be
right, after all, in. announcing the coming of
their mutual enemies. »

It was this supposition that caused him to
take up the paddle, and dip it in the current at
his side.

As near as he could judge, the afternoon was
more than half gone, and still there were no
signs of land on either side, where they could
affect a landing.

In fact, there was something so pleasant in

    

  

 

8’ Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

 

thus “ floating with the stream," in the society
of the most’ beautiful woman upon which his
eyes had ever rested, that a contemplation of
its termination was the reverse of pleasant.
His hunger, his wet and clinging garments, were
forgotten in the new and delightful emotions
which now found room in his breast.

He found it almost impossible to remove his
gaze from her face, and it was only when he be-
Came sensible of his rudeness that he did so.

Yet, despite the ethereal mental condition in
which the romantic young man found himself,
he could not become entirely insensible to his
surroundings.

The rain had ceased during the forenoon, but
there were si us of the storm renewing again.
Dark, heavy c ouds obscured half the sky, and
there was a mist in the air, such asis frequently
seen at times when there is a superabundance of
moisture in the atmosphere.

Pleasant as it was drifting in this manner, he
’ he felt that his duty to the one placed under his
charge made it necessary to cast about for some
means of escape from their present predicament,
and like the shipwrecked mariner he looked and
sighed .for land.

I‘he best way to get out of a current is neither
to row with nor against it, but as the mariner
caught in the cycltdne does, to take :1 course at
rig: angles.

Havens turned his boat directly across the
stream and plied the paddle with all the skill of
which he was capable.

Adrian watched his labor with no little inter-
est. When the exertion had continued for some-
thin:r less than an hour, she exclaimed:

“ There is the land!”

‘ The hunter had not noticed it yet. but he saw
that she was right. Far away to the right, the
boundary of Rattlesnake River could be dis-
tinguished.

As the land made adccided rise, the bank was
clearly defined, and there was the cheering pros-
pect of placing their feet upon term jwma
again.

Havens bent all his energies toward reaching
the shore, which was at a great distance. When
his eye was fixed upon some stationary object

~ he gained some idea of the great velocity with
which they were being driven down—stream.

As he neared the land, he observed with pleas—
ure that they had been carried so far southward
‘Bsto be beyond the region of the storm. The
green woods showed that no rain had fallen
very recently, and the threatened renewal of it
had disappeared, so that the sky was clear and
pleasant.

\ Speeding onward, they succeeded in reaching
the shore, and Havens drove the canoe with
such force against the sandy beach, that the
prow remained fast, although the stern was
swung round by the velocity of the current.

Wolf was the first to ipring out. and he was
followed instantly by Brandon, who drew the
light vessel far up the bank, and then assisted
his friend upon land.

“The flood is cheated of its prefy this time!"
exclaimed our hero with a glow o pleasure, at
the thought that he had not only escaped him—

self, but had been the means of rescuing the

 

beautiful Adrian Woodland, who now looked up .

in his face, smiled, and thanked him for the in-
terest he had shown in her welfare.

“ Well, we are so far upon our journey,”
added Brandon, speaking as if he had fully re-
solved upon hearing the lady company until she
was freed from her present dilemma. She
looked up at him in surprise.

“ Do you accompany me?"

“ If it is your wish I will leave you at once,”
he replied instantly, touched at the abruptuess
of the question.

“ You do not know where I go.”

“ No; nor do I know where I am, or What is
to become of me, nor do I care so long as I can
be with you.”

She looked at him with a soulful expressio
as if she would read his heart, while the face 0
young Havens glowed with the new emotion
which had taken possession of his being.

It was plain that some great grief weighed
her down, which she was unwilling to communi-
cate to him, although her actions and manner
seemed to say that she was debating with her-
self whether to do so or not.

Hoping that she would decide favorably, the
hunter determined to press his thoughts homo
upon her, and then give her time to form her
own conclusions regarding him.

“ Lady," he said. “I need not tell you that
the mystery which surrounds you is entirely
impenetrable to me. I know your name, but
nothing as to your history, or how it is that you
were foun.1_ alone in an Indian canoe floating
down the river. Whether you have friends,
whether you are a captive among the Indians,
who have drifted unconsciously away from
them, or whether, by some strange accident,
you have been borne away from your home, is
more than 1 can tell. This secret is with you.
I have no desire to penetrate. it. You know a
little and perhaps care less for me; but allow
me to say that I am. from the State of Illinois,
where I am comfortably situated with the ten«
derest of family ties, and that with some friends
I have ventured this far West on a hunting ex-
pedition. You and I have been together for a
short time, but the hour or two has been long
enough for me to admire, respect, and to love
yOu, with the Whole depth of my nature!”

This was “ rushing things,’ certainly, but
something seemed to tell Brandon Havens that
time was precious. An impending sense of evil
already pressed him down, and, as he looked
upon the wonderfully—beautiful face of the
woman before him, it was with the feeling that
makes us tremble for the possession of the prize
that is surely slipping from our grasp.

“ I will leave you here,” he added, after a
moment’s pause, “ while I go to the top of the
hill yonder, and see whether I can gain an idea
oi our situation, and which is the course to pur-
sue to reach some settlement.”

With this parting, Havens moved hastily .

away, toward a wooded hill, about a couple oii
hundred yards distant. The intervenin wood
was thickly grown with brush, so that 9 ex-

perienced a little, difficulty in reaching the sum-.

mit. \

He was well rewarded for his trouble, how
ever, for_ be gained a view extending over a
dozen miles in area. The course of the enor-

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old Kyle’s tong Tramp. 7

 

mously-swollen river could be traced for a long
distance, until, like the sea, it seemed to mingle
with the horizon.

Not a sign of a steamer was visible upon it——
a fact \in ch perhaps impressed the young
hunter m‘re deeply than anything else with a
sense of his loneliness, and utter removal from
the confines of civilization.

I But toward the north, the country was en-
tirely open, that is, free from water although
the vast extent of forest reminded him of its
Wild and unsettled condition.

Perha ‘ a mile to the north, he discerned the
column- ike smoke of a camp-fire, ascending
through the tree-tops. While in all probability
these were Indians, still the young man had

’\ strong hopes that the smoke marked the camp—
fire 0 . his friends, who had followed this route
in their search for him.

"Ems was the only sign of life that greeted his
VlSlO‘D. Everything else was solitude, loneliness
and desolation.

Carried by the resistless force of the current,
Havens had been swept many miles out,of his
course, and there was a long and perilous tramp
before him ere he could expect to extricate him-
self from the labyrinth of danger into which he
had been drawn.

Then, too, the care 'of the beautiful Adrian
Woodland made his task assume almost the
proportions of that of Hercules—although all
the more enchanting on that account.

In quite buoyant spirits, he descended the hill,
and ain ,pic ed his wa through the under-
growt until he reached t e river again.

Here a terrible disappointment awaited him.
Upon reaching the spot where the boat was
left, it was one, as was also the fair unknown,
and poor olf lay pinned to the earth with an
arrow—the still warm blood oozing from the
gound. An Indian alone could have done

is.

It was some minutes befcre Havens realized
that she had really disappeared. He looked up,
and down the stream but neither the boat or
she who had occupied it was visible.

An overwhelming sadness was upon the heart
of young Havens, the hunter. His whole soul
seemed to have gone out toward the beautiful
creature, whom he had met but so short a time
before.

Attracted not only by her grace of form and
manner, but by what he deemed her sweetness
of disposition. and the unquestionable culture
that was displa edin her conversation—he had
already'begun raving roseate pictures of the
future, in which, as may be supposed. she form-
ed the principal figure.“

As he had stood on the hill-top, gazing of! in
the distance, her fairy—like form floated in the
air before him, and she seemed to beckon to
him from the distant sky-—

But it was gone! She had departed like a
[vision of the sleep, and nothing but the memory
, remained behind. .

Minute after minute passed away, and the
shades of night began gathering over the wood
and river, and still Brandon Havens sat watch—
ing and Waitin in vain.

He bad call her name again and again, but
no response came, and with a sad and weary

 

heart he shouldered his rifle, and plunged into
the forest.

And, as he did so, another form, that of a
crouching Indian, noiseless] emerged from the
darkness of the wood, an as noiselessly fol-
lowed him into the gloom.

CHAPTER III.
KYLE, THE SCOUT.

AT the close of the same day that saw Bran—
don Havens plunge disconsolately into the
woods, so closely followed by the form of the
crouching Indian, two men were gathered
around a camp—fire, which had been kindled in
a. deep hollow of the forest, at a point about ten
miles distant.

Both were young and rather prepossessing in
appearance, and hey were the two men with
whom our hero had been hunting before we
introduced him to our readers.

They were brothers, Edward and
Gaskill, the first being several years the senior
of the other, and in every way his superior so
far as concerned hunting and their knowledge
of woodcraft.

“ Well, Havens has made a miss of it,” re—
marked the younger, who was busy broiling a
piece of venison over the fire.

“Yes; he has gone and lost himself, and in-
stead of hunting for game, we have got to spend
the time in hunting for hi .”

“ He must do the most 0 that himself, as he ,
has Wolf with him.”

“ It is too bad that he wandered off so far, for
it is not only difficult but dangerous for us to
attempt to find him again.”

“ What do you mean?” asked George, looking
inquiringly toward his brother.

“ You remember that old hunter, Hugh Kyle,
who used to stop so frequently at our house, and
who had the weakness of spending six months’

 

earnings in about as many hours at the village I ' ' '

tavern?"

“ I rather guess I do.” was the response.
“He it was who furnished us with whatever
knowledge of hunting we ssess.”

“ Well, we are on his noting-grounds, and,
as near as I can judge, in the most dangerous
part of them.” , x

l‘  so?“

“ Don’t you recall that he said the most devil— ,
ish portion of the Delaware Indians were to be
found just across the Rattlesnake river, on the
western" shorel—and I think that is where we
are.”

“ It is hard to tell, when the streamsiare
swollen out of shape h the freshet.” '

“1 know it~is, an I only stronglysu t
that we are in that section, where he 11 to
locate his most thrilling encounters."

“ If that is the case, we are in as much danger
as Havens is."

“ True; and that makes we wish he would
turn up and get out of this dangerous section.”

“ You remember it was my opinion that we
were going too far altogether, and I said as
much yesterday morning."

“ I know, I know,” returned the elder brother,
showing by his voice and manner that he was
very uneasy and apprehensive, “ but it can’t be
helped now; we must make the best of it. ’81: 1”

 

 

.» a. i .
W .‘tflt‘m‘m’pir. 2: .w..hr.

 

 nsitmwjzmiJa:

 

' their guns, and p

.a

 

8 Old Kyle‘s Long Tramp.

Both held their breath, and listened fora mo-
ment, but all was still.

“What was it?” asked George, in the sup-
pressed voice of fear.

“ It sounded like the breaking of a twig, under
the trend of some one.”

“ We couldn’t be better situated for an enemy

~ to steal upon us than we are.”

“ I was about—”

Further utterance was checked by the spiteful
crack of a rifle and the ping or the bullet was
heard as it spe by the face of Edward Gaskill.

The brothers sprung to their feet, caught up

unged into the WOudS.

At the same moment a clear, ringing laugh
was heard, followed by the exclamation:

“ Wal, tharl Beavers and bufliers! Ef that’s
the way one gun makes you jump, you ought to
have about forty red-skins swarming about

our ears, and then you’d dance about like a
r on a hot J ohnnycake.”

The words were followed by the figure of a
man who, as he strode out of the darkness into
the light of the campfire, revealed a form of
enormous proportions, dressed in the costume of
an Indian, and carr ing a rifle of still greater
longitude than himse f.

A close-fitting coon-skin hat was upon his
head, and his face was covered with an enor-
mous grizzled heard, that reached down to his
waist. ,.

As he strode up and stooped by the fire he was
still shakin from laughter, at the consternation
that his ri e—shot had created.

The brothers, who were crouching side by
side in the wood, and staring at the apparition
by the fire, looked for a moment in silence, and
then the elder exclaimed:

“ That is some crazy person.”

“ Yes; and more dangerous than—”

“Hello! Hugh. Kyle, as sure as I livei” in-
terrupted the older, as he rose to his feet and
strode toward the figure by the cam p—fire.

When he reached it he held out his hand, but
the grizzled old hunter, instead of accepting the
proffered salutation, looked quietly at him and
then-laughed more heartin than before.

“ Did ye ever git skeert at the noise of a gun i”
he asked.

“ Haven’t you x?” responded Gaskill, with the

'_ direct question.

“ \Val. I s’ 056 so,” was the reply, as he took
the hand an gave it the gri of a vise.‘
“ What’s t’otber chap an what are yer both

‘ doin’ in this outlandish country?"

George came forward as he heard his name

- pronounced, and there followed quite a bois-

terous greetin . It was many months since the
old hunter ha been seen by the. brothers, and
they were glad enough to meet him.

But a few moments were re uired for the

‘ young men to explain the cause 0 their being in

his part of the world, and the mishap that had
befalleu Brandon Havens, in losing himself in
the woods. ‘
“ Jes’ like him!” exclaimed Kyle, who seemed
in'a chronic state of mirth. “ used to take
that teller inter the woods when he was a young-

- star, and he was allers runnin’ his neck inter
' danger. Howsumever, I’ll hunt him up fur yer

in the morning.” '

x

 

..~.-

“ Hugh,” said Edward, “we are not exactly
certain of our location. Is it true that we are
on the western bank of Rattlesnake River?"

“That’s jest exactly whar ye be. How did
you cross?” ~

“ We came across a friendl Indian, who pad-
dled us over for a pocket-kni e I gave him.”

“ War thar anything quar in the gineral ap-
pearance of that coipper gentleman?” inquired
the 01d hunter, in a. s gnificant voice.

“ I recollect that his nose had a peculiar look,
as though it had been split years ago, b some
blunt instrument, and had never receive skill-
ful treatment before healing up, so that it made
him look very repulsive.”

“ Twenty years ago that copper-skin had his
nose split b a tomahawk, and it was in my
hands when t was done?

“ Ah! did you have a fight with him?”

“ That’s jest what I did. I was summat
younger then than I am now, and so was he
and I fell into the hands of the Delawares, all
because I war about as big a fool as you two
chaps (and that’s saying a mighty deal,) and
this er’ old dog made me run the gantlet. He
sto at the fur end, and I could see from the
way he looked, when he found I war ittin’ by
the others, that he meant to kill me. o I war
on the lookout, and I gi’n 3. 'dodge, and then
butted him in the belly, afore he knowed what
war comin’, and then, so that he might remem-
ber me, I jerked his tomahawk out of his hand,
and gave him a belt that split open his nose.
Then you’d better b’lieve I used mer , with
the whole caboodle yelping arter me, an it was
the biggest run of my life to git away from ’em.
Ever arter that, this skunk has been knowed as
Out Nose of the Delawares.” '

“He seems to be very friendly disposed to—
ward our people at present.” ‘

This remark upon the part of George Gaskill
caused another explosion of laughter, from the
hunter, although, like the famous Leather—
stocking, it was a hearty laugh of silence.

“ Thar ain’t a bigger red-skin devil on t’other
side of Massip than Cut Nose. All the hunters
and traders knew him, and are more afeard of
him than any other dozen that live.” ,

“ Is it possible?" was the amazed query of the
elder Gaskill. “ Why did he treat us so cour-
teously'l” _

“ He brought yer across the river to make
sure of yer. That ar’ skunk knows whar yer
went, and whar yer camped, and he’s had his
eye on yer ever since, and of you’d laid down
and slept you’d never opened yer eyes ag‘in'
but to—morrow he’d had both yer scalps danglin;
at his waist. and would been dancing amon ' the
lodges of the Delawares, and tellin’ his olks
what a great brave war Cut Nose.”

Unbounded was the amazement of the bro—
there at hearing this, and for a few seconds
they did not speak, but looked at the old hunter
as if they were digesting the startling words he
had uttered. Then the elder said: -

“ We sus acted that we were in dangerous
territory. ere we wrong?”

“Yer can tramp a thousand miles and not
find a spot that begin with this. Hyar’s the
best place for deer and Mar, and h ar the red-
skins come down as thick as flies in ugust."

  

 

gm:

    
  

  

 

.4

Old Kyle’s Long Trump. 9

 

“We have seen nothing of them—none at all,
but Cut Nose who brought us over."

“ This hyar fresh is such a. tearin’ big one,
that it’s got up among the lodges, and that's
what’s the matter with ’em.”

“ Where is their village?”

“A half-dozen miles down the river, on this
same side; then thar‘s another just above us.”

“ So that we are betWeen two fires," remark-
ed George.

“That’s it; and while it’s dark, you'd better
do yer best to git out of it.”

“ Shall we get Cut Nose to paddle us back?”
lau bed the e der brother.

“ ’ve got a little boat pulled under the bank,
and I‘ll put you on t’other side, which must be
about three miles, the way the river is now runn-
ing, and it spreads out more and more the further
you it down-stream, till it’s a reg’lar sea.”

“ nd after We get across the stream?"

“ Make tracks fur home, and don’t come a-
ltiunti’n’ out hyar ag‘in, till I can take yer in

ow

“ But what will become of Havens?"

“ 1 will hunt him up.”

” we do not wish to return without him.”

7 “ Yer needn’t if yer don’t want. I’ll git yer
to a place by daylight whar yer kin hunt fur a
week Without the reds botheriu’ yer; but it
won’t do fur yer to stay h er."

“Would we not be so e in your company?”
asked Edward, who was not exactly suitedwith
the reposition of the hunter.

“ t it war any other time, I'd like to take
yer in tow, but I’ve got a little too big bus’ness
on mve: hands jist now.”

“ hat is it!” asked the younger brother,
speaking before he was aware of the imperti-
nence of his query.

“ Wal, I s’pose thar’s no hurt in tellin’ yer,”
was 'the hesitating reply. “ Thar’s a gal been
missm’ from one of the settlements in Illinois
fur two or three years. and I’ve been huntin’
fur her fur a year past.”

“ Havs you gained any clew i”

f‘ I had a lon tramp of over five hundred
miles before i orned anything more nor her
name, which I'had when I started, and which is
Adrian Woodland. Did either of yer ever hear
of her?”

Both replied in the negative.

“ She belongs to a big family in Illinois, and
was stole when she war on a visit to some of
her friends. From what I l’arued I s’posed that
some of the Sioux up in the Northwest had her,
and I’ve been ranging through tha’i' huntin'—
grounds arter her, and hev jist got back in time
to find it war these infernal Delawares that
nabbed her, and what's more I b'lieve the skunk
of 9. Cut Nose war the very chap that bad the
doin‘ of it, and he’s got her down in the village,
or hid away, the 01 Boy only knews whar.”

“ You are engaged on quite a romantic husi-
nessfll said the younger brother, who was not a
little interested in the story of the old hunter.

“ Yas, I s’pose so. Her family. I war sayin',
is a big one, and her folks ar’ half crazy over
tha’r loss. They’ve offered a big pile of money
fur any one who. will bring her back. And
gheyize already paid me a heap for what I've

one.

.v

 

“ You have ho s of succeeding?” v

“ Yes.” repli Kyle, in a doubting manner,
as if there were grave apprehensions in his
mind upon more than one pomt; “ but that'sone ,
or two things about the matter that looks bad.
And the fu'st is that thar’s an internal white «K
man mixed up in it. a renegade of a soamp,
named Zeke Quigley.”

“ How came he in it?”

“He consorts with these red-skins, and used
to love the gal years ago, afore he had to leave
his own people for hoss-stealin’. I knowed he‘d
gone off and j'ined the Injins, but it’s powerful ‘

u‘ar that I never found out be war among the
%elawares till a few weeks ago, and then I
kuowed jist how the thing came about. He was
too blamed cowardly to risk his neck in catchin’
the gal himself, so he got Cut Nose to steal her
for him. And now, Quiglefy and Cut Nose have
both got to settle With me ur it.” ,

This was uttered with a vim and emphasis
which showed how deep was the earnestness of
the old hunter. His small gray e es seemed to
scintillato fire, and be grasped t e rifle-barrel,
as if he would crush the iron with his terrible
power. ”

"Can we not be of any assistance to you?”
inquired the elder brother.

“ Not while ye’r’ on this side of the Battle-
snake,” was the reply. “Yer will only get yer-
selves into trouble, and I’d only hev to help yer
out besides the gal. I‘ll stow yer away in good
pasture, wbar lyer can wait until my arrival,
and then we’l make the homeward tramp to-
gether.” -

“ Well, Hu h, if there is any danger from
Cut Nose an his friends coming down on us,
we had better be on the move.” ‘
r “ What I opine, exactly. 80 come along and
we’ll eat the meat on the way.”

Only a few minutes were necessary tor pre-
paration, when the three men, under the leader-
ship of the old grizzled hunter, started for Bat-
tlesnake River.

 

CHAPTER IV. '
a marines CROSSING or A RIVER.

THE night Was cloudy and dark. Them was
no moon; and in the gloom of the forest it was ,
.the most that the bro hers could do to keep near
their guide. , .

More than once they could touch him, and 91;
they failed to distinguish his_form. He’w ed
rapidly, and yet w th 8. nmseless motion that
would have carried him over the sleeping form
of the red Indian, as the shadow of a cloud pass-
in before the moon. 

igaiu and again the two men paused b'ewil—
dered, and were only enlightened by a cautious
“ ’sh !” of the old hunter, who seemed to act as
it he were threading his way through an one-
my; camp.

hen they came out of the woods and stood
on the edge of the vast lagoon of water, it was
found thata faint moonlight penetrated through
the misty air. and a partial View of the immense
mass of rushing water could be obtained.

The 1 three men stood silent and listenin ,
while the carefully looked about in eyes-y :-
rection. othmg but the solemn ocean~hke roar . r

 

 

 

  

 

10 Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

1

 

of the enormous volume of water reached their

cars.

But while they were thus standing motionless,
the, guide suddenly exclaimed in his cautious
undertone:

“Hark!”

For a moment nothing unusual reached their
ears, and then, at the same instant, the brothers
distinguished a peculiar dipping and washing,
such as would naturally be made by the swift
swee of Indian paddles.

. “ too down, and see what you can see!”
fiddled yle, doing as he advised the others
0.

Crouching down in this manner, the three
men watched and listened. The regular sound
of the paddles was heard with such growing dis-
tinctness, that for a time it looked as if the boat
were coming to shore at their very feet.

Suddenly. in the gloom, the brothers discov-
ered the dark form of an Indian canoe, sweep—
ing diagonally down the current, with the speed
of a racehorse. So swiftly indeed did it ass,
that it shot across their field of vision li e a
meteor, and was almost instantly swallowed up
in the great world of darkness that inclosed
them a] . r -

“ There he red-skins all about us,” said Kyle,
a. moment after the disappearance of the large
boat. “ They’re on the river, and in the woods

‘ behind us.”

“ Where is Cut Nose?”

~“ He is somewhere not fur oil, and like enough
has followed us.”

> “‘ He’s a pretty smart Indian, if he could keep
sight of us, on such a night as this in the
woods.” I

“ The river is falling," added the old hunter,
as he stooped down to pick up his canoe. “ Do
you see that? When I came here a few hours
ago, the starn was jist in the water, and now
thar’s’a ood six feet atween ’em.”

The de icate structure was carried to the ed a
of the river, and launched, and seizing the pa -
die, Hugh Kyle struck boldly out into the surg-
in waters.

9 was one of the few masters of the art of

'. managin a canoe, sitting as motionless asa

,statnq w ile each {powerful sweep of his long

arms sent it forwar with such an impetus, that

itsoemed to the brothers as if it would be jerked
v 1mm beneath them. .

They had progressed several hundred yards in
this manner, and had narrowly esoaped collis-
ion with numerous floating trees, when Edward
Gaskill was somewhat alarmed at the eight of
several points of fire which seemed to be float—
ing upon the water. Touching the arm of his
guide, he called his attention to it. The latter
turned his head, and then muttered, in the low
voice of cautious vexation:

“ Thunder !, Injins ag’in I”

Dipping his paddle with greater care in the
water, he sent the canoe backward, so as to
avoid, if possible, any closer approach of the
hostile boat.

“Do you see them specks of light, like stars
afloat“ on the water? Wal, the warmints ar‘
,smokin" thar blamed calumets, and that’s the

«.li ht of ’em that you see. B’ars and beavers!
W t a nice jobitwould be for metosmesh

 

 

some of them ’ere pipes, and tha’r heads at the
same time.”

“ I wouldn’t undertake it,” whispered George.

“Oh, you needn’t be afeard of that. I ain’t
such a big fool; but—’shl they’re comin’ this
way—no, they ain’t, they’re goin’ by.”

Gradually the singular-looking points of light
drifted further down-stream; and the party
were just beginning to feel pleased, when a curi-
ous whoop, three times repeated, was heard
from the shore behind them.

“ What is the meaning of that?" inquired
Geor e, of their guide.

“ I now that voice," replied the latter. “ No
one could make such an internal noise except
that skunk of a Cut Nose.”

“What is it intended for?”

“ A signal to those varmints in the boat.
Don’t you see they’ve stopped paddling?"

The specks of fire which at first attracted
their attention could now be seen motionless
upon the water, showing that the canoe was
stationary, its progress Embany checked by
iéiat curious signal whic had come from Cut

ose.

For perhaps a minute the canoe held this mo~
tionless position, when precisely the same cry
that Cut Nose had made was sent back to him
from the greater canoe.

This was proof that the two parties were in
communication, and understood each other, and
it looked very much as if the anxiously-listening
whites were the cause and subject of this inter-
change of signals.

The situation of our friends was becoming
more dangerous each moment, and Kyle felt the
necessity of plucin a greater distance between
himself and the De awares, who seemed to have
gained some inkling of the true state of the
case.

The large canoe still remained stationary,
while in spite of the hunter’s cautious efforts,
his own boat kept drifting slowly downward.

Whispering to his companions to remain per—
fectly quiescent, he began stealthin working
the canoe across the stream.

At this juncture, the glowing points of light
disappeared as suddenly as if they had sunk be-
neath the surface of the water.

Kyle noticed this and it gave him greater un-
easiness than anything that had yet happened.
for it showed that the Delawares had become
aware of his proximity, and had taken this pre-
caution to conceal their own locality.

There was a manifest disadvanta eagainst
the white men. There were three 0 them in
the canoe, and only one paddle between them,
while every redskin w s furnished with ,his
own car and knew how use it. ,

Should it come to a trial of speed, there seem-
ed no earthly grounds for the weaker party to
entertain a hope of escaping, and the anxiety of
the hunter toavoid such a demier resort wil
be readily understood.

Still dallying, as a fish is sometimes seen to
toy with his fins, while all the time it moves
not, Kyle gradually worked the boat away from
the dangerous neighborhood.

All the time, his keen eyes were glancing
around in the darkness, on the lookout for the
reappearance of the long, dark hull oi! theIn-

   

flow.-. 1/. s M.

 s .. -

A, ....,\., any ..,.

‘,
l

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. ' 11

 

dian canoe, which as yet remained invisible to
his perception.

Neither of the brothers spoke, for they were
fully sensible of their perilous situation. They
hardly dared to turn their heads lest the move-
ment might attract attention, or help to re—
tard the motion of the canoe, already too heavily
laden.

Ten minutes or more had passed in this state
of suspense, and Kyle was still toiling at his
paddle, when he suddenly ceased work and ex—
claimed in a husky whisper:

“ Down! thar they come !”

 

CHAPTER V.
ENCOMPASSED BY PERIL.
' THE startling command of the hunter was
instantly obeyed, and the brothers ducked their
heads below the gunwales of the canoe, and with
rapidly—beating hearts waited and listened.
At the moment he spoke, Kyle bud caught

the shadowy outlines of the Indian canoe,’spiked,

with its load of fiendish red«skins, and his sus-
picion took the form of certainty, and he saw
that longer concealment was impossible.

Still, comprehending the desperate nature of
a resort to fright, he attempted stratagem.

He was partly dressed as an Indian, and in
the darkness he hoped to pass as one. A quar—
ter of a century spent in wandering in the wilds
of the Northwest, had given him an intimate
knowledge of Indian “ ways and means,”and he
was well acquainted with the idioms of the
Delaware tongue.

Treating the appearance of the red-skins,
therefore, as a matter of course, he called out
to them, in as clear enunciation as any of them
were capable of uttering:

“My brothers have wandered far from their
homes this evening."

“ Does our brother go alone in the darkness
of the night?” instantly came back to him in
the some tongue.

“ Manitou is angry: the water is upon the
land, and many of the lodges are home away.”

“ Where is the home of my brother?"

“ It is gone with the waters that have swept
away his squaw and pappoose.”

“ Who is my brother?”

“ Owal—you, who dwells by the great trees,
where the river has never come before.”

This was an admirable answer. Owal—you
was the real name of a. Delaware warrior, who,
as Kyle well knew, dwelt several miles up the
river, in a grove of large white oak.

The hunter had met this hermit~like Indian
more than once, and imitated his voice and
manner of speech to perfection.

He was literally a neutral savage, who took
no part in the wars of his brethren among each
other, or with the hunters and settlers who pen-
etrated into their country.

Like all of the hunter’s stratagems, it had been

adopted on the spur of the moment, and yet;

had he taken hours to conjure up ‘an artifice for
the present occasmn, he could not have hit upon
a more ha py one, or one that answered his

sqan of my brother been swal—
lowed up by the waters of the great Manitou?”

 

“Owal-you has no sduaw nor pappoose. He
walks the earth alone.’ ’

All this time the larger canoe was edging
toward the smaller, while Kyle was as cau~'
tiously endeavoring to creep away from such a
dangerous locality.

It was evident that while the hunter had suc—
ceeded in a great measure, yet he had not done
so perfectly. There still remained a suspicion
upon the part of the Delawares that all was not
right—a suspicion which would haVe been en-
tirely dissipated, but for the signal of Cut Nose,
which at this moment came again across the
water, as if he were impatient that no favora-
ble response had been made to his previous calls
to them.

“ Why does my brother kee
from the Delaware warriors?
sung in his cars?”

so far away
ave evil birds

“Owal—you folds his arms and sits alone in i ' ‘

his great sorrow?
turb him?"

This was another master-stroke, and it almost
succeeded. The grief of an Indian is sacred,
and his brother warriors have no right to in-
trade upon it.

Kyle had removed his coonskin cap before
the Delawarcs were in sight, and with his long
hair streaming over his shoulders, there was
little fear of the deception being detected so
long as quite a respectable distance was main-
tained between the two boats.

In his perfect comprehension of the Indian
character, Kyle now did what Owal-you him-
self would have done, had he been situated as
re resented. ' -

ith the air of a man whose rights and dig-
nit have been invaded, he took up the paddle, ‘1;
an with slow, solemn stroke-s, began working I ‘«
his boat 11 and across the river. -

The D(’l)aWaI‘GS maintained their stationary
position. not daring to follow.

And here all trouble and danger would have
ended, but for that marplot Cut Nose, who, at
this moment, sent a different whoop or cry
across the water, which produced its install
effect upon his friends. '

This vicious red-skin had undoubtedly wit—
nessed the departure of the whites in the canoe,
and suspected some attempt at a trick upon the
part of the hunter, whom, as we have shown,
he had good canse to hold in respectful rememv
brance. '

,The system of Indian signaling is one of the
most curious characteristics of'a strange peo-
ple; and, while he gave utterance only to a few
simple sounds, they seemed to explain tot-he
Delawares the deception that was being tit-p
tempted upon them. '

The large canoe instantly shot forward in
pursuit of the smaller; but sufficient time had
elapsed for Kyle to screen himself entirely in
the darkness, and providai he could deceive his
pursuers as to the direction he was taking, there '
was a good prospect of his maintaining his in- r
visibility. ,

Accordingly he turned directi toward the
shore he had left and plied his pa die with all
the power and skill he possessed, hoping and
praying that the Delawares would continue
their course toward the eastern bank. a

Do my brothers wish a: dis-

W...“ . an.

 

 

  

’ 12 Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

 

‘ > But experienced and skillful as was the hun-
' tar. he committed a fatal blunder, in that he
betrayed himsrlf by a slight noise, made by
accidentally striking his paddle against the side
of the canoe.
This insignificant noise gave the clew the
'Delawares needed, and they headed straight
toward the laborim,r boat with tremendous
3 ea .
pAll seemed dark for our friends, when an un-
looked-for diversion occurred—a circumstance
which would have caused an ordinary person to

‘ have yielded what now a peered a. fruitless

‘contest in despair, but w Ich the matchless
cleverness of Hugh Kyle enabled him to turn to
his own advantage in a manner which certainly

. deserved admiration.

While he was glancing furtively behind him

, in quest of his pursui-rs, and ahead to see where

he was going, he suddenly discerned a second

7 canoe, with a single occupant, coming down-
. stream, and nlm 1st in a line with himself.

Kvle headed directly toward it, and the two
swiftly approached. As they did so he saw that

' the stranger was an Indian, who doubtless sur-

veyed him with considerable wonder, but had
no suspicion of his identity.

The two passed almost close enough for their

‘ Canoes to graze each other. In‘that brief hurry-

. iug space of time, if the solitary rerlvskin recog-

‘ nized the white man, it was with a feelingr of

‘ relief that he saw him shoot above into the dark—

, - ness and rapidly disappmr.

Kyle kept his eye upon "the vanishing boat
' unti it was Swallowed up in the darkness, when

’ (or the second time he turned the prow or' his

canoe toward the eastern bank, and plied his
,. paddle with utmost power and skill.
. What was expected and intended to take place

‘ 'now followed this stratagem.

~While the Delawares were paddling rapidly
.torward, in the direction of the slight sound
“ which their ears had caught, they suddenly dis-

" covered a boat with a single Indian in it bearing
1 rapidly down upon them.

Running their own canoe across its path,

 they speedily intercepted it, and the two came

tofiether.
r ere several volleys of questions were ex—
' changed, and some ten minutes were passed

’ before the pursuing party were enabled to com-

‘,~ firehend the curious mistake that had been made;
 ut they got it through their heads at last, saw
.-how it all had come about, and then attempted
" to retrieve their error. ‘

7 These were g'lden moments to Kyle. and he

 improved them to the utmost. No sound he
' trayed the progress of his boat, and yet it glided

like an arrow across the turbid waters.
Onward he sped through the sheltering dark—

. mess toward the friendly eastern shore.

“If yer feel like it,” said be. addressing the

: brothers in the bottom of the boat, “you can
3 raise yer heads.”

“ Is the danger past?" asked George, looking

- alarmedly around in the gloom.

“ I rather think it is," was the reply, “ onless

,» Some other internal canoe comes tearing down
“ bn-top of us.”

But nothing further was seen of their enemies,

f; and a few minutes after the dark outline of the

 

wooded shore was distinguished, and Kyle drove
the canoe like a. wedge into the soft bank, and
the three sprqu out.

“ Do you know where you are?” asked
George, who was never more completely lost
in his life.

“ When you’ve tramped these woods as often
as I have, you won’t get lost, if it is as dark as
a. wolf‘s mouth.”

“ Isn’t there danger of the Delawares follow-
ing us even here?”

‘ Not much, onless it mought be they had
sharper eyes than any red-skin was ever known
to haye, and can see a. mile through this dark-
ness. '

“ But won’t they find your canoe here in the
morning?” ,

“ Not Very well,” replied Kyle, with a laugh,
“ [Tying as how I’m goin’ to take it away with
me.

With which he shouldered the delicate struc-

- ture and started into the woods, closely fol-_

lowed by the brothers, who, as may well be
supposed, looked with greater admiration than
ever upon his skill.

The ground over which they traveled was
found to be quite swampy, and the walking
was necessarily very tiresome; but, after a
time, they succeeded in reaching compara-

tively dry ground, where matters were more

pleasant.

Over a mile was passed, when they descended
into a sort of ravine, Where were numerous
large rocks. Ill among these Kyle led the way
until they reached a sort of cavern, where the
final halt was made and the canoe placed upon
the ground.

A fire was speedily started, and by its cheer-
ful blaze all three soon warmed and dried them-
selves, and made themselves as comfortable as
was oesible under the circumstances.

“ n the mornin’ I leave yer hyar,” said the
hunter, “and yer can make it yer headquarters
as long as yer choose to do so.”

bAnd at the earliest dawn of light, he left them
t ere.

 

CHAPTER VI.

THE RENEGADE.

HAVING progressed thus far'with our story,
it becomes necessary for us to go back for a
time, to take a view at some incidents that may
be supposed to have transpired, something over
a year previous to those already narrated.

At the time of which we write the upper part
of Illinois was the Northwestern frontier, and
those who dwelt there were subject to the usual
danger from the attacks and incursions of the
Indians, and many of them suffered severely
from this cause. .

The wealthiest settler, in the section to which
we refer, was Colonel Gustavus Woodland, who
had been an officer in the war of 1812, and
whose family consisted of himself and wife, and
a single daughter, Adrian—a girl whose charms
and grace of person and manner, won for her
the admiration of all with whom she came in
contact.

Suitors she had without number, butasyet,

her heart was untouched, and her only wish

       
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   

‘ "~ny mazw

 

,., magma.

 

i.

 

I v Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. 13

\

seemed to he that she might command the love
and affection of her. parents, in which it is
scarcely necessary to say she succeeded.

Zeke Quigley, to whom casual reference has
been made, was a man who had been in the em-
ploy of Colonel Woodland, but whose vicious
habits were such that he was sent away about a
year previous to the time of which we are now
speaking.

Before going, however, he had persecuted
Adrian so pcrsxstently with his attentions, that
he was compelled to appeal to her father for
protection.

_ The soldier was so incensed at this impertinent
intrusion, that he gave Quigley a thorough
thrashing, and he went off, muttering all sorts
of raven e, which Woodland forgot almost the
moment e was out of sight.

I For along time Adrian was careful of expos-
ing herself to the least danger of meeting this
evil man, who, she believed, was lurking some-
where in theivicmity.

Butas week after week, and monthafter nionth
passed, and she saw nothing of him, she began
to lose the shuddering apprehension which had
once taken possession of her, and in time she al—
most forgot that such a. being existed, until she
was reminded of it, in a. manner which she was
certain to carr‘yar with her to her dying day.

It was at t e close of a. mild summer day,
that {Adrian was walking along the shore of the
Illinois River, which flowed by their house at a
distance of a hundred yards. The air was still,
and she was in one of those deep reveries to
which young persons of an imaginative dis-
posmon are subject, when her attention was
arrested 'by a rippling of the water near her,
and turning her head, she saw a small canoe,
that had Just touched the bank, while its occu-
pant was in the act of leaping out.

One glance was sufficient for her to recognize
her detected enemy, Zeke Quigley. .

Turning instantly about, she started home-
ward, but the next moment he was at her side.

“ Hold on a minute; don’t be in such a blamed
hurry l” he called out.

She was on 'the point of uttering a scream to
her father; but a sudden fear restrained. No
doubt the villain had come prepared for such a
contingency, and would shoot down the officer
on Sight.

So, for the sake of her father, she repressed
her fears, and turned her pale, beautiful face
toward the intruder, with the question:

“What do you want?”

“ I want to talk with yer; I’ve been on the
lookout fur yer fur the last three, four days.
I don’t s’pose you expected to see me.”

“ I certainly did not.”

:: Nor wa’n’t very anxious to see me, he, he I"

u I can not 59. that I was.”

We], I don t know as it makes any per-tick-
lai: difference, as I can’t help it.”
méil’lease tell me what your business is with

Quigley turned his head to make sure that he
was not seen: but the high bank which inter-
vened between the beach where they stood,
effectually shut out all observation, where the
rerson was not directly on the edge of the bank

 

They were entirely alone.

“ Yer know, Adrian,” began Quigley, looking
her earnestly in the face, and assuming as sen-
timental a voice as was possible, “that I love
yer.”

Here he paused, and she simply said:

“ Well?”

“Yer found that out a year ago; but yer
father didn’t like it. He stopped it——”

“You are wrong there; it was I who didn‘t
like it, and I who stopped it. I requested father
to end the annoyance and I thought he had.”

“ It don’t make no difference; we won’t quar-
rel about it. What I wanted to get at, was

that I loved yer like blazes; but, when I became _

really sarti’n that it didn’t please yer, I made
up my mind to act like a man and not to bother
yer a ’in.”

“ on were sensible then apd I» regret that
you forgot your decision.” .

"‘ I war goin‘ to tell yer the reason why I for-

,,
it,

got it. I thought I could do it, but found it ,

was impossible. I dreamed about yer whenI
war asleep or awake, and made such a fool of'
myself that the Delawares all noticed it—”

“ What do you mean?” she suddenly asked,
turning sharply upon him, before he was given
time to finish the last remark.

Quigley had unwittingly betrayed himself.\_

    

That which he had intended should remain a 
secret, had come out before he had time to check _’

1t. \
He stammered, blushed and acted so confused-
ly that the suspicion of Adrian was turned into
positive proof, She read the truth. .,

“ So you have gone to live with the Indians,
have you?”

Zeke saw that he was detected and it was use~
less to attempt concealment longer. So he put.
a bold face on the matter.

“ I war jest goin’ to tell yer that. Yes, I

have been livin’ with the Delaware Injuns fur 3.‘

ni h onto a year past.”
‘ I suppose your tastes would be congenial.”
“ Wal, they’ve treated me a blamed sight bet-
than the white folks ever done,” was the sullen V
reply. “ If my own people had acted 'so, I
never would have left them.”
“ Whose féiiilt was it that you did so?” ,.
“ It wasn’t mine,” was the fierce reply, as he.
scowled savagely at her.

Adrian saw that it was foolish to hand words a
with such a character; so she maintain silence '

for a moment, and then in a quiet, dignified
way, remarked: . 
‘ If you are through with me, I Will retan
home.” ' ', "
At the same time, she made a movement, as
if to go, but he rudely clutched her arm. ,
She turned calmly toward him, but she quail-
ed at the evil glitter of his eye. ‘

“ Be quick and say what you wish, for father

will soon miss me, and may come here for me.”
“Let him come," muttered Quigley, in such a'

malignant, vindictive undertone, that a shnd

der of terror passed nuer her frame. ’

“ Let him come, I say; him and me have got 

to settle matters yit, atween us.”
“ Is that what you desired to sari”

 

“No; I war tellin’ er that I loved yer, and I
allers will love yer, r I can’t help it, and I 

H emsmimy , v

 

 

 

we; ~12. 

   
 
 
     

-~=-ams -"

 

 

 
  

 

"3 kill yer.

’ appeared upon the scene.

’14 Old Kyle’s Long- Tramp.

 

want, yer to promise me that you’ll return that
love.

This was the sublimity of impudencc, and
Adrian for the time was at a loss as to how she
should treat him.

“ Is that all 2’"

“ Ye're thunderin’ cranky with yer questions,
afore a fe110w has time to git through. I tell

er Pro a chief amongithe Delawares; I kin do
Jest as I please and I have every thing my own
way. If ye’ll go with me, ye’ll be queen, and
have every thing in better style than yer ever
dreamed of."

“ This is all lost time,” replied Adrian, who
was beginning to feel anxious to get out of the
man’s company. “There is not nnyinducement
in the world that you could offer that would
tempt me to leave my home, and go into the
wilderness. I would do it for noliving creature
that walks the earth."

This was was decisive language and would
have satisfied any reasonable person; but lovers
are the least rational being sin the world, especial-
ly such selfish ones as Zeke Quigley.

‘ “ Yer don’t know what ye’re refusin’,” be con-
tinued. “ I’ll be the greatest person livin’; us
great as King George of Englandmnd then if
you don’t want to live among the Injuns, yer

'7 needn’t do it—”

“ I knovfthat very well,” was the appropriate
interruption. '
“ I'll have the finest kind of lodge yer ever

heard tell on built for yer, and thar we kin live

by ourselves, and if yer say so, I won’t have an
In'nn come near yer.”
e paused, and with a quiet smile she asked:
“ Are you through?”
The reply was given as a man gives an ir—
resistible argument.
“ I s’pose that the great objection that a gal

' has to gittin’ married to a feller that she loves,

is ’cause she don’t want to go away from homo.
That‘s what’s the mat-tor with yer; but we kin fix
even that. It ain’t so t'ur out to Iowa, but that
I’ll bring yer home once a year. to see yer folks.”
‘ Quigley was earnest and excited in his man-
ner, and as he talked kept edgin: toward the
canoe. Unconsciously to herself she walks 1
with slow, short steps in the same direction, un-
til only a few feet separated her from the boat.

Suddenly she observed the startling fact, and
drew back.

“ There is no need of continuing this conver—

~ sation,” said she, for no good can come of it.

Father will soon be here, and I advise you to de-
part while there is peace between you.”

“ What do I care for him?" was the savage
reply. “ If yer go with me. I will bury the
hatchet between us; if he stops me ag’in, it will
he the last time.”

" I’ll have nothing more to say to you. Go
and never cross my path again."

She turned. but he intercepted her with a
drawn knife in his hand.

_ “ Ye’ve got to go with me,” he said, between
his clinched teeth. “ If yer make any noise I’ll
So, be docile and she into the boat.”

As she would never have do e this, he doubt—
less would have laid violent hands on her, had
not. at this critical moment, a new actor

 

 

CHAPTER VII.
A NARROW ESCAPE.

IT was at this critical moment, that the huge
negro servant of Colonel Woodland, Caesar by
name, made his appearance on top of the bank,
and looked down upon the speakers.

Adrian looked upon his homely black form, as
if he were an angel, while the renegade ground
his teeth with rage.

“ Hallo, Miss Adri’nl” called out Caesar.
“ Dar’s whar yer at" be yet? De cunuel sent me
to look fur yer and I t’ought you war here or
somewhar else. Who dat scallawag dar wid
yer?

The African scanned the man for a moment,
and then recognized him.

“Oh, de ,gorry gracious heben! ef dar ain't
that hoss—t'ief,-Zeke Quigley, pokin’ ’round here
ag'in. Hello! Cunnel Woodland! come here
quickl here he aml hurry up or he’ll git away I”

When we state that this was uttered at the
top of his voice, and in tones which could be
heard for fully a. mile. while Caesar, all the
time, kept leaping up and down and gest‘iculat—
iug furiously—when we state this, we say it will
be readily comprehended that there was good
cause for fright upon the part of Zeke Quigley.

The renegade was cowardly, and he saw his
imminent danger; All thoughts of the abduc-
tion of Adrian Vi'oodland were lost in the one
will desire to secure his own personal safety,
and with a muttered curse he wheeled around,
shoved his canoe hastily into the water, s rung
into it, and began desperately rowing own-
stream.

He had scarcely reached the middle of the
river, when Colonel Woodland, who had com-
prehended the cause of his servant’s excitement,
dashed down the bank, leaped into one of the
canoes that was always moored there, and
started in pursuit.

Almost at the same moment another settler,
by the ' name of Britton, pushed out from the
opposite shore and joined in the chase, although
he had no suspicion of the identity of the fugi-
tive.

It really seemed as if the fates were against
the renegade, for while he was plying his paddle
with a skill which sent his canoe spinning like
a swallow over the water, and which gave him
good reason to hope that he would distance his
pursners, a third man joined in the pursuit.

This individual came upon the scene from the
most dangerous point—that is, he was further
down-strewn, and started from the opposite
shore.

The third person was quite a woodman,
named Burton, who was the most skillful oars-
man of the entire party, and who had heard
and comprehended the excited words of Caesar,
so that he had the impetus of knowmg what he
was after.

The singular manner in which the chase now
developed itself, was to put the In itive in the
center of a large triangle, with is pursuers
each at a distant corner, the most disadvan'
tngeous disposition possible.

It was beginning to grow dark, the sun hav-
ing set. but black night was too far away, and
the situation of the renegade was too desperate
for him to hope anything from that fact,

  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
    
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
    
  
    
  
 
   
    
   
  
    
  
   
  

,4._..4.M..,.H.m..r. ~- r «

Oldlele’s Long Tramp. 1."

 

Colonel Woodland was determined on shoot-
ing the villain, the moment he was nigh enough
to make sure of his aim, and he paddled with
unceasing energy.

The greatest terror of Zeke Quigley‘s life was
upon him. Turn in whatever direction he
chose, the peril seemed equally great.

There remained but one slight hope of eluding
his merciless enemies, and that was by heading
for Catfish Cavern.

This was an immense rock, hollowed out with—
in, and rising some distance above the water,
with a narrow entrance, less than half a dozen
feet in width. ’

The three pursuers comprehended his inten-
tion the instant he changed his direction, and
they did their utmost to prevent it. His move-
ment changed their relative positions, so that
the renegade took the lead, with the other three
converging toward him, and all four laboring
as if they were taking part in the international
rowing-match.

But Quigley had greatly the advanta e, and
he succeeded in holding it so well that 9 shot
into the cavern a hundred yards in advance of
his enemies.

Seeing that he could not be headed off, Colonel
Woodland dropped his paddle and caught up his
rifle, ilring just at the moment the canoe of the
renegade plunged into the open mouth of the
cavern.

It was an exceedingly close shot, but a “ miss
is as good as a mile,’ and Quigley passed in en-
tirfely unharmed, and for the time being was
so e. .

A minute later the three canoes came up
simultaneously to the rock. .

“ Let‘s follow him right in !” exclaimed Colo-
nel Woodland to the others.

“ No; it won’t do,” replied Burton. “ He will
have us In fair range. and we’ll catch it, sure."

“ What shall be done then?” demanded the
officer, who could not conceal his vexatious im-
patience at what had occurred.

“ Why, we have got him in there certain. and
he can’t get out,” replied Britten. “ All we
have to do is to contain ourselves with patience
until he is ready to come down."

It soon became known that the noted horse-
thief, Zeke Quigley, had been “ treed," and fully
a hundred people gathered on the bank near
Catfish Cavern, in the hope of seeing him cap-
tured and executed: for, among them all, there
was not one who did not thoroughly detest the
cowardly villain. ‘ I

When it became known, however, that the
only way of bringing him to terms was by a
course of regular siege, the people lost their pa-
tience and gradually withdrew, until by mid-
night only is a three original pursuers in their
canoes remained.

“This won’t do,” said Colonel Woodland:
“ we must make some systematic arrangement
in this business. We three can’t sit here in our
boats all tonight and to-morrow; we must al-
ternate."

Both Burton and Britten announced them-
selves ready for any proposition the colonel had
to make.

“ Suppose then that Burton and myself stay
here until daylight, when Britten will come

-'

 

back, and we will send a man to take our place,
and rest for to—morrow forenoon. And so we
will establish a regular system of sentinel
duty.”

This plan struck the other two favorably and
it was acted upon at once. Britten paddled r
ashore and went to rest, while Burton and 0010- ;
nel Woodland were left alone. I

“ Can’t you think of any way of smoking him f
out?” asked Colonel Woodland, who was unga- 
tient to get the insulter of his daughter into is ~

ower. “I don’t like the prospect of waiting '
are several days before he comes to terms.”

"Perhaps if we fire in cautiously, we ma
strike him, but we must look out that we don
get it back again.”

The scheme struck Colonel Woodland very
favorably, and be determined to follow it up
without a second’s unnecessary delay. ’

So the two stealthily paddled up until they
were alongside the mouth of the cavern, when i.
they reached the muzzles of their rifles in and .. ,
discharged them. '1

Simultaneously with their reports came a ,»
fearful howling shriek from within the cavern, v»
followed by a splash into the water.

“ He’s hit!” exclaimed Burton, in a half-sup—
pressed whisper.

“ Yes, and done for,” added Colonel Wood-
land. “ We have wound up the careerof onset
the biggest scamps that .ever lived.”

“ Shall we go in and brin him out?"

“ No; he may be able to 0 us some damage
before he goes under entirely.”

“ Harkl I thought I heard some one in the
water."

Both listened, but all was still, a fact which
pointed strongly toward the supposition of the
renegade’s death. Still. as there was some risk
in venturing in after him, it was wisely con-
cluded to wait until daylight, when the attempt
could be made with much less danger. , x ,

The two sentinels were sitting some distance
from the mouth of the cavern, when a low
“ ’sh I" from Colonel Woodland caused a perfect
hush to fall upon both, and a slight withdrawing
of their canoes from the dangerous locality. , _

As they did so the prow of an emptycanoe v.
was seen slowly issuing from the mouth of the
cavern, moving only with the velocity of the
tardy current at this point.

The sentinels waited until the entire boat was
outside, and slowly drifting downward, when, w
thinking that perhaps the body of the man they ,
were seeking was within it, the two pulled up
beside it, and looked in. . _

But the canoe had nothin at all m it, ex t ‘ I. ;
the solitary paddle that h been used byt o. 
fugitive. _

- ‘That shows that he has been killed,” said 4_ >1
Burton. ' '

“ But what started the boat out?” asked polo-
nel Woodland, who was .not exactly satisfied
with the appearance of things.

“ He has given it a kick when he was going
under. and so started it out.” I . _ . 1v

“ I don’t think there is much risk in going in
there now, but—”

The two men looked at each other and smiled
significantly. The same fear restrained both—~
that shuddering terror of gomg into the dark,

 

 

or
T.

. g;
Q

i

at

“ .5.  M1,, were a . m

at

«3?.

‘

 

' 5m» ,7

 

 

. .

V'  some minutes after, when the canoe was miss

[6’

where they knew the cold dead body of a man

la .

{‘here was just sumcient moon to make ob-
jects visible for a hundred yards or so, and from
where the two sentinels were on duty, they
could plainly discern the canoe of the renegade
as it rested against the bank.

Referring to it, Burton said:

" “ It is a fine boat—made by Indians who un-
understand the structure of such things; but it
had one peculiarity—n

‘ What is that?”

“ It towed as though something were holding
it back, or as if a dead weight .were attach-
ed to it I ”

 

CHAPTER VIII.
a RACE FOR LIFE.

AmnRIBLE fear came over Colonel Wood-
land at the announcement of the disappearance
of the canoe.

“Perhaps it has drifted away," he called
back. Look along the shore.”

“ No it hasn’t,’ returned Burton, who, while
he spoke, was coasting along the bank and look-
ing for the missing boat. “Some one has taken
it away I ”

With this he turned and made his way back to
where the alarmed Colonel Woodland was

I awaiting him.

“ Do you know what I suspect?” said he.

“ How should I know?”

“ That infernal renegade has played a smart
trick on us. He is the one who ran away with
the canoe.”

“ How could he do it?" asked the ofilcsr, who
had formed the same suspicion the moment he
heard of the disappearance of the boat.

“ Satan has helped him; but I am satisfied
that neither of our shots touched him. His
yelling was all a blind to make us believe he
was hurt, and he was the one that pushed out
the canoe, and he was dragging after it when I
towed it ashore, and there he has waited until
he saw a good chance, worked his way out of
sight, and then paddled off—and thus ends the

» present history of Zeke Quigley.”

Subsequent investigation attested the truth of
the theory of Mr. Burton. The cunning rene-
gade, finding he was fairly cornered, was about
to advance to the attack of the two men who
were acting the sentinel over him, when their
shots gave him a new idea, which was acted
upon at once.

The howling shriek was done to deceive them
into the belief that he had been struck, when, in
reality, the bullets had come nowhere near

m

Waiting a few moments. he sunk clean under
water, so that his nose barely protruded beneath
the canoe, and enabled him to breathe without

f4 _ exXosing any part of his body.

t the same time he managed to secure a deli-
cate hold upon the bottom of the canoe, and so
began gently floating out of the cavern.

‘ e ave shown how skillfully he passed his
enemies, who did not suspect any trick until

i in .
and by this time Zeke Quigley had secured
his own safety, and was leisurely paddling

r”

 

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

down the Illinois River, on his way to secure a
valuable ally in the execution of the scheme
which had now become the absorbing object of
his life.

Knowing the cowardly nature of Zeke Quig-
ley, it was generally believed that he would take
good care never to again run such a risk as
that from which he had had such a narrow es-

ca e.

Pu this they were right; for the renegade
never recovered from his terror, or believed
himself out of danger until he was among the
Delawares again.

Here he concluded to remain, but he easily in-
fluenced the vicious Cut Nose to undertake the
case for him.

Months had passed, and the people of the
settlement were beginning to talk of something
else besides the escape of the renegade, although
Colonel Woodland could never feel satisfied as
long as he knew that Zeke was living.

It was in the autumn'of the year, when one
morning the negro Caesar was sent in the family
carriage of Colonel Woodland—which was open
and without springs, and more properly a
wagon—to take Adrian to a neighbor’s, about a
mile distant.

As there was constant communication be-
tween the two settlements, no thought of danger
entered the head of either, although, as a matter
of safety, the African carried an enormous shot-
gun with him.

All went well enough for a time, and the lazy
mare was jog ing leisurely along over the rough
road, which, or most of the distance, led along
the edge of a piece of woods, when Caesar was
alarmed by seeing an Indian dart across the
road several hundred yards in advance.

He instantly rained up, with the exclama-
tion: '

“ Gerry nation, Miss Adr’inl dat’s orful,”

“ What do you mean?” she asked, with‘a feel-
ing of vague alarm.

“I see’d an Injin jump across de road, and
hide in de wood.” ‘

“ Are you sure about it?“

“ Jes’ as sart’in as I am dat I see you dis min-
ute. He went a-scootin" ober from dat stone
fence to de woods, jis’ like a partridge dat’s got
skeert and is runnin’ away.”

The more which was drawing this carriage
was never noted for her speed, and Caesar was
so nervous from his great terror that be nearly
upset the vehicle before he succeeded in gettin
the head of the horse turned the other way, an
not a little valuable time was lost in the ma-
neuver. .

During these trying moments, Adrian was
constantly looking back for the red-skin, and
just as the wagon started forward again, she
saw two Indians rise apparently from the very
ground and start on arun toward them. _

“ Drive up, Omar, they are coming,” she
called to the servant. “ They will be on us in a
minute, if you lose any time.”

The atfr ghted negro needed no urging. He
was already lashing the mare, and she was
plunging along on a full gallop, at the imminent
risk of dislocating every joint and smashing
everything to flinders.

Yet, although the mare did her utmost, her

 

‘ l

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. I“,

 

speed amounted to a trifling rate, and Adrian’s
face blanched with horror as she saw the two
Indians rapidly gaining upon them,

“Caesar, they are coming! Can’t you make
Doll go faster?”

“ e’ll bu’st sumfin’ now do way he is tearin’
’long—m y hebben I”

Still he laid on the ox—gad, that he always
carried with him, and the phthisicky mare puff—
ed like a steam engine.

Caesar cast a hurried glance over his shoulder,
and caught sight of the two frightfully—painted
savages coming up the road.

About this time the servant began yelling in
the hope of attracting the attention of Colonel
Woocdland and some of the folks at the nettle-
men .

As the Indians were also whooping, th. din
became frightful.

The.situation of Adrian Woodland was ter-
rible, and becoming worse each moment. She
well knew that the painting mare was doing her
utmost, and still t 9 Indians were coming up
With a rapidity which made aspeedy‘capture
inevitable.

Suddenly three Indians sprung from the wood
into the road in front of them. They were thus
in the front and in the rear.

CaeSar picked up his shot-gun.

“ Miss Adri’n, you hold de lines, and I’ll pep-
per one of ’em, sure, and mebbe do oders will
git so skeert dat dey'll run away.”

The African spoke with remarkable coolness,
and the trembling girl took the reins.

The three savages who appeared in their front
were gesticulating with their arms, so as to sig—
nal to the driver to stop, and at the same time
to frighten his horse.

But the latter was urged to he: utmost, and
the red-skins, finding that their signs were of no
avail, stepped aside so as to be ready to spring
into the vehicle as it passed.

When within a half-dozen yards. Caesar sud-
denl raised his gun.

“ last yer. take dat!”

As he spoke, he sent something likeahalf—
pound of buck-shot right in the face and eyes of
the foremost savage, who, with a shriek of
anguish, threw up his arms and fell backward,
dead. .

This unexpected demonstration had the effect
of paralyzing the remaining Indians for a mo~
rigent, during which the carriage dashed by
t em. '

But it was only for a moment. As Caesar
glanced back, he saw both of the savages raise
their guns.

“ Quick! duck your head! Dey’re gwine to
shoot!”

Adrian barely had time to avoid the shots, as
the bullets whizzed over their heads.

“Now I'll take de lines ag’in,” said Caesar, as
he received them from her hands, and renewed
his basting of the mare, that was already be-
ginning to flag.

The fom‘ Indians, who had thus been tem-
porarily baffled, were by no means disposed to
give up the chase, but now renewed it with
greater vigor than ever.

At this critical juncture, when both‘Adrian
and Caesar began to hope that their voices had

reached the ears of some of their friends, and
that a rescue was not impossible, an appalling
accident dissipated the last spark of hope, and
insured their doom.

The wagon-wheel striking an obstruction in
the road, both traces parted, and the terrified
mare continued her wild flight, while mistress
and servant were left behind.

“Gorry nation! Miss Adri’n, run! dere goes
do last ob de mare!" exclaimed Caesar. ,

Both were on the ground in n twinkling, and
placing her white hand in the horny palm of
the African, the two ran on down the road with
all the speed of which they were capable.

By this time, less than fifty yards separated
pursuer and pursued.

“ Let’s scoot fur de woods!” called out Caesar,
making an abrupt turn to the left, “and see if
we can t hide.”

" ’fliere is no use,” wailed Adrian, holding
back in despair, “ we may as well give npat
once! Oh, why doesn’t father come?”

“ Copie on; nebber say die—”

They were the last words poor (laser uttered,
for they were yet in his mouth, when Adrian
felt a spasmodic closing of the hand upon hers, a
gasp, and the faithful fellow sunk down and
died without another struggle.

CHAPTER IX.
THE FAIR CAPTIVE.

THE negro had been killed by a shot of one of
/the Indians, and Adrian Woodland was left
alone, with the whole four in pursuit.

She continued her flight more from instinct
than from any result of a reasoning process, while
the savages, seeing that the matter was decided,
came up at a leisurely gait. and captured her
before she had gone a hundred feet further.

The first Indian who laid his hand upon her
was the hideous-looking Cut Nose, whuse face

with a grin of exultntion, while he looked upon

tive.

“Huh! much nice!” he muttered. taking her
by the arm, and turning her round so as to gaze
full into her face.

Adrian uttered a piercing scream, that was
heard by her father; but Cut Nose brandished
his tomahawk in such a threatening manner
that she durst not break silence again.

. The Delawares understood the certainty of
immediate pursuit, and they started homeward
without a moment’s unnecessary delay.

river, and embarked in a couple of canoes.

During the whole time that Adrian waspn
this distressing journey, she was treated With
respect and consideration; but she never gave
up the hope of being followed and rescued by
her friends, until the Village of the Delawares
was reached, and she was domiciled in the
family of the chief, Flying Antelope.

Then for a time utter despair took possession
of her, and she wished for death rather than

life. -
She was awakened from this depth of gloom,

 

on the next day after her arrival, by the sudden,

appeared ten-fold more frightful as it exranded ,7 ’

the beautiful features of the shuddering cap-y ‘

About a mile distant, by followingasome-l), '
what circuitous route, they reached the Illinois

s. u 41.9“...ggtam-.m,, ..

 

 

 

 

 

18 Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. J

 

appearance of the hated Zeke Quigley before
her.

The renegade surveyed her for a few moments
in silence, While his naturally broad mouth was
expanded into an enormous grin. Suddenly he
gave a guffaw, and exclaimed:

“ So ye made up yer mind, Adrian, to come
and live with me, did yer?"

She looked up at him, with the old flash in
her eyes.

“ Do you call this bravery to insult me when I
am powerless?"

“ Nobody meant to insult yer. As it war
rather too hot fur me in the neighborhood of
yer place, I got Cut Nose to undertake the job
for me, and he. done it well."

” How soon am I to return home?”

The renegade burst into one of his {WW-Hrs
again.

“ I said you might make yer folks a visit
about once a year. Ef yer behave yerself purty
well, [’11 let yer do that.”

“ Very well; I am much obliged to you.”

Quigley stood a minute or two, asjf he had
something upon his mind which he did not know
exactly how to introduce; but it came out at

last.

“ I’ll let yer alone till to-morrer and then I'll
be nrter yer and you’ve got to go With me!”

The remarkable beauty and amiability of
Adrian Woodland made her quite a favorite in
the family of Flyin Antelope, who expressed
his wish to adopt or, and the girl deemed it
prudent to consent.

She obtained the promise of the chief that she
should not be compelled to remain with any one
else, and then she awaited with some composure
the coming of her enthusiastic admirer.

Early in the forenoon the renegade made his
appearance. and presenting himself to Flying
.Antelope, asked for his assistance in compelling
the captive to become his wife according to the
established custom among the Delaware In-
dians. He was met with the reply that the girl
had been adopted into his family, and he could
not consent to her departure.

It would be diffi :nlt to picture the amazement
and fury of the renegade at this cool answer.
He raved and swore, but it was of no avail
against such a prompt chief as Flying Antelope.
who uietly turned his back upon him and
walks into the lodge.

7 Now began'a wearisome and vexatious cap-
tivity to our heroine.

It was providential indeed that she was adopted
into the family of Flying Antelope, as it pro-
tected her from all rudeness and harm: never-

, theless, she plned for her home from which she
had been so rudely torn, and wondered why her
friends did not come to claim her.

And so the time were away, until the coming

of the great freshet, of which we were speaking
when our story opened. This was so unpre-
csdently great that it swept away a portion of
the Delaware village, including the lodge of
Flying,r Antelope.
, The chief was barely able to save his own
«wily from drowning. and placed his wife and
. .nl'ian in a canoe, while he looked after the
safety of the children. \

The danger becoming serious, the wife sprung

 

overboard to rescue one of her imperiled onesn
and Adrian was thus left alone.

All was blank darkness, and in the swirl of
the rushin waters, she was separated from the
others an found herself drifting alone down
the river. She hardly knew What to do, but she
struggled hard with the paddle through the
night until daylight, when she found she was
alone on the bosom of the vast overflowed river.

Without food, and tired to utter exhaustion,
she fell asleep about noon, from which she was
awakened by Brandon Havens, as we have nar-
rated at the beginning of our story.

She had gone through such a trial that her
mind. was temporarily affected, which may ac-
count for her rather singular conduct, in the
presence of the young man.

She could not make herself certain whether
he was a friend or an enemy, and so she treated
him with some distrust. .

When she was left alone, for a. time, while
Havens went to the top of an adjoining hill to
take observations, she was. immediately ap-
proached by Flying Antelope, who had landed
some hours before, and who saw her come
ashore. .

Adrian made no objection to going with him,
and the chief, With his entire family around
him, camped in the woods that night, and on
the morrow started homeward again.

~ His strong and skilled arm carried them there

easily in his canoe, and the close of the day wit-
nessed Adrian safely domiciled with her old
friends again.

And now leaving her for a short time, we
must look at incidents occurring elsewhere.

 

The screams of Adrian Woodland, and the
shouts of Caesar, when attacked by the Dela-
wares, reached the ears of Colonel Woodland,
who, accompanied by three men, all on horse-
back, instantly started to their assistance.

But the attack and capture occurred in such
a short time, that when the rescuers rear-bed
the ground, the captors were far away, with
their captive, speeding through the wood toward
the river.

Instant pursuit was made, and the Delawares
were tracked to the river, where, as a matter of
course, all trace of them was lost. '

But, urged on by the father, a. search of near-
iy a week’s duration was made, with no result
however, and Colonel Woodland returned
home, bowed and stricken to his almost broken-
hearted wife.

At this opportune moment, Hugh Kyle ap-
peared on the scene, was made acquainted with
the sad Mcurrence, and he sought to assist the
afflicted friends in their distressing calamity.

And had it not been for a serious mistake
made by Colonel Woodland, there is reason to
believe that the famous scout would havo speed-
ily eflfected the rescue of his daughter Adrian.

There was no doubt but that the renegade
Quigley was at the bottom of the affair, and
consequently she was to be sought among the
Indians where he had made his home.

From some unaccountable cause, the colonel
had the impression that Quigley was living
among the Sioux of the Northwest; and, acting

t

 

 

 

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. 19

 

upon this supposition, Kyle started at once for
the hunting-grounds of that tribe.

Several months were thus consumed, and in
the dead of winter he returned to Colonel Wood-
land, with the declaration that Quigley had
never been among that tribe, and they had had
no hand in the capture of Adrian.

The father was all at sea again, and for a
time was in despair, but he could not give up
all hope of seeing his child again, and he urged
Kyleto continue the hunt, promising him the
most munificent reward, whether he succeeded
in his hunt or not.

Kyle, for a long time past, had lost all knowl-
edge of Zeke Quigley, so that he had not the
slightest suspicion of his having taken up with
the Delaware Indians, though the scout came
in more frequent contact With that tribe than
with any other. r

It is scarcely necessary to state that this jour-
ney was as fruitless as his preceding one.

On his way back he passed through the Dela-
ware country, and came in sight of a party of
that people on aged upon a hunt.

More from t e force of custom than anything
else, he carefully scrutinized them, and in his
surprise recognized the renegade Quigley among
them.

The myster was explained, and he hastened
to Colonel oodland with the gratifying in-
telligence that he had found the trail at last,
and had hope of bringing his daughter back to

him.

Colonel Woodland was roused from the lowest
depths of despair to the hights of hope, and he
asked to accompany Kyle in his search.

But the hunter preferred to go alone, and he
left him with the promise that he would never
show his face again until he brought the captive
with him.

Starting out for the third time, Kyle reached
the Delaware country at the time of the great
freshet, to which we have made such frequent
reference.

We have shown his meeting with the brothers
Gaskill, and his separation from them, after

1 they had been conducted to a place of safety.

CHAPTER X.
A STRANGE DELIVERANCE.

WE left Brandon Havens pursuing his way
through the wood, after his separation from
Adrian Woodland, disconsolate, gloomy and
despairing. .

It will be remembered that he was stealthin
followed by an Indian, who had first seen him
when he was standing upon the top of the hill
taking his survey of the surrounding country.

In the distance he haddescried the smoke of a
camp-fire, which, somehow or other, he fancied
belonged to friends, and to Which he intended to
hasten with his adored.

But, when he found that she was irrevocably
gone, he forgot all about the camp-fire, and
plunged into the woods, caring naught where he
went, or what became of him.

This was fortunate in one respect for him;
for bad he carried out his first intention of
making his way to the camp-fire, he Would have
come upon a party of sanguinary Delawares,
who would have made short work with him.

 

Fortunate, then, was it that his footsteps were
turned in another direction, so that he was led
away from this great danger.

But a greater peril remained. Searcer a bun—
dred feet separated him from the murderous
Indian that stole along behind him with the
silence of a phantom.

So the two made their way through the woods
—pursuer and pursued—the panther-like eyes of
the former fixed upon the latter, who, all the
time, had no suspicion of the fearful doom grad~
ually drawing nigher and higher to him.

It warjust in the early dusk of the evening,
and objects were dimly visible for some dis-
tance.

He was awakened by the crackling of under-
growth in front of him, and raising his head, he

found to his amazement that he was face to face

with an enormous black hear.

The instinct of self-preservation is ever strong
in the human heart, and the young man, who, a
few minutes before, was in the very depths of
black des air, and almost wishing for death,
now seize his gun and put himself in a position
of self—defense.

The brute was noways 10th, although it was
evident the meeting was as great a sur-
prise to him as to the hunter. He stood for a
moment perfectly motionless, as if seeking to
take in all the “points” of his adversary, and
then with a low growl of anger advanced to the
attack. .

This was what Havens expected, and waiting
until he thought the animal was the right dis—
tance from him, he raised his gun, took a quick
aim and fired. v

The shot was only partially successful. It
struck the brute in the neck, making an aggra—
vating wound, without necessarily being dan‘
gerous.

The bear charging in pursuit had taken a leap
or two, when the Indian came in sight. The
savage, at the moment the gun was fired, was

shut out from the sight of his prey by the in-'

tervening undergrowth, and he immediately
hurried forward to ascertain the meaning of the
re rt.

ome wild animals display a great sagacity
in identifying their enemies; but the bear is not
very celebrated in that way.

Catching sight of the Indian, he very na-
turally took him for the merciless hunter, who
had inflicted such grievous injury upon him,
and he “went for ” him, without hesitation,
and with a low growl of fury.

The amazed red—skin fired his rifle insuch
precipitation that it missed the brute altogether,
while it never checked its. flight in the least.

Fully comprehending the desperate danger
that menaced him, the Delaware turned and
darted away with all haste, aud_made for a
small tree, up which he began furiously climb-

in . . _ ‘
gut, great as was his haste, it was insufficxent

to take him out of his peril.

Ere he had ascended a half-dozen feet, the
hear was upon him, and caught one of his feet
in his claws, and dragged him to the earth.

Thus compelled to fight, the. savage turned
and attacked his foe wit his knife. .

The contest was, severe and long cpntinued,

 

fiJm‘xun-T A

 

 

armies.

 

20 Old Kyle’s Long- Tramp.

 

but it can be summed up in the announcement
that its conclusion left a live bear and dead In-
dian on the field, and the imminent peril which
had1 threatened Brandon Havens was turned
asn e.

After running several hundred yards, the lat-
ter paused and listened. All was still, and he
rightly concluded that the threatened danger
was passed.

By this time, Havens was almost tarnished,
and he saw that the first thing necessary was
for him to procure something to eat.

Again good fortune directed him. He had
wandered but a short distance, his eye and ear
alert for the first appearance of game, when he
stumbled upon the camp, to which reference
has already been made, and which the Dela—
Wares had left scarcely an hour before.

A slight exmninution showed that a party of
Indians had been there very recently; but, what
was then of the most importance to Brandon
Havens. he discovered quite a quantity of veni-
son, cooked and read y for eating, which the
Indians had left behind them.

It is not necessary to refer to the avidity with
which this was devoured by the hungry hunter.
nor to the relief and comfort he experienced,
when at last, he had eaten his fill, and started
off through the forest, with the cheerful song of
the birds all about him.

Unconsciously to himself he had turned his
steps toward the Rattlesnake River, and, before
he was aware of it, he found himself standing
upon its bank.

Unacqusinted as Brandon was with this sec—
tion of the great West, it needed but a glance of
his to see that the tremendous rise of the river
had subsided greatly since the receding day,
and was still falling very fast. go much so, in-
deed, that a day or two more was all that was
{necelssary for the stream to sink to its former
eve .

As he looked out upon the muddy current, he
could still see the trees, stumps and debris drift—
ing by him, most of which had undoubtedly
come hundreds of miles.

But suddenly he started. Far out upon the
river he saw a small Indian canoe, dancing over
the water and heading straight toward him.

While Havens was still gazing in doubt and
wonder the man stopped paddling for a. moment
to swing his hat over his head and to shout.

Then our hero recognized him: and, as he
came closer, and Stegped ashore. be grasped the
hand of his old frieu , Hugh Kyle.

 

CHAPTER Xl'.
THE HIDDEN For)

BRANDON HAVENS had always been a favorite
with the .hunter, Hugh Kyle, and the meeting
between them was of the most cordial char-
acter.

When each had told his story, the amazement
of both was unbounded.

,Unskilled as was the hunter in all that apper‘
tained to the assiou of love, he was yet shrewd
enough to un erstand the feeling that had been
awakened in the heart of his young friend, and
he plumply told him of it.

‘ As you have started out with the resolve

 

 

to recapture the lady,” said Brandon. “ you will
allow me to go with you and help. Indeed, you
must.”

“ Wei, 3. love-sick younker like you ain’t jist
the chap a feller wants with him at sich a time;
but as yer heart seems to Le sot on it, I’ll take
yer ’long and see if I kin keep yer straight.
Howsomever, yer must bear in mind that I’m to
he boss of this yer’ job.”

“Of course I shall never venturetodispute
you on any question, nor will I refuse to take
your commands, when it is so evident that I
know nothing and you know everything.”

“ That's the talk my boy. Stick to that and
thar’ll be no troub e."

“ I am ready and anxious to be under way.”

“ See hyar," said Kyle, assuming a serious
air; “ thnr’s a qu’ar look put onto things by
what you’ve told me.” "

“ I don’t know what you mean,” said Havens,
in some astonishment.

“ What do you 3‘ use ’come of the gal arter
you left her in the oat?"

“ It is impossible to tell. You see. she dis-
appeared, and the canoe, too; but the dead
body of poor Wolf seems partly to explain the
matter.”

“ We], the Injins got her ag’in.” '

“But how was it that I saw nothing of
them?”

“They wa’n’t on the water, but on the shore.
They see’d you come ashore, and the minute you
got out of sight, they come down, knocked over
the dog to prevent a rumpus, picked up the
canoe, and walked ofl.’ in the woods with it and
with the gal, too.”

This was a new view of the case. but Havens
admitted its reasonableness, and after a few
minutes’ reflection be fully believed it. No other
explanation would answer at all.

“ But why did they not disturb me?” was the
natural question that came to his li IS. “ They
certainly must have known that was some-
where not far off.”

“ Thar's only one reason that can be give for

that,” replied the hunter, “ and if that’s the true
one, things look a powerful sight better for us
than they could any other way."

As a matter of course, Havens was very anx-
ious to hear the hunter’s explanation.

“ I’ve l‘arnt ’uough to know that the gal is
held by a chief of the Delawares, who has
adopted her in his family and won’t let anybody
else have her. We], you see this hyar con-
founded fresh hain’t been such a bad thing after
all. as it has made a sweep through the Injin
village and cleaned ’em out. Somehow or other

the gal has get loose in the canoe, and the chief v

has started in search of her. You've hagpened
to come in to shore purty nigh whar 3 had
landed, and was lookin’ over the river fur yer
so all he had to do was to wait his chance a
walk off with her ag’in, as he did.”

“But you haven’t told me why he let. me
alone all this time.”

“The chief who holds the gel ain’t uiteso
bad as the others. as may be see’d by t e way
he treats her. But it’s lucky thrir didn’t any of
the other imps git a sight of yer.”

From this it will be seen that the hunter
penetrated and‘understood the precise manner

it

 

 

 

 

i"

 

 

Old Kyle‘s Long Tramp.-

21

 

of Adrian VVoodland’s falling again into the
hands of her captors. It required no ordinary

, shrewdncss to reason back from effect to cause

in this manner, but his great experience and
knowledge of woodcraft enabled him to do so.

“How is that to be so particularly ndvnu-l

tageous to us, if your con 'ecturcs are true?”
asked Havens, who. as yet, ad not reached the

‘ drift of the hunter’s thought.

“ You see all this hyar tuk place last night,
and on this side the river, which makes it very
likely that the gal is thar still, for the chief
wouldn’t be apt to hurry her much after what
she’d already been through.”

Brandon Havens threw his hat in the air. ‘

“Hurrah for you, Kyle; you’re right! We’ll
have her sure."

But Kyle was not so jubilant. He had seen
such manifestations before, and understood
them too well.

f‘ Thar’s one thing yer must keep in mind,”
said he: with the same solemnity of manner
that had distinguished his previous utterances.

Havens turned inquiringly toward him.

“ We hain’t got the gal yit. P’r’aps the chief
has got her ag’iu with him, in which case thar’s
got to be some hard work done afore she is out
of the woods.”

‘;,What chance of her rescue will there then

“ Wal, thar’s some considerable chance as
long as the reds don't smell a rat, and find we’re
nosm’ round; of they l’arn what we’re after,
thar‘ll be some harder work than all. She
havin’ been with the reds so long, in course has
achance to git outside of the lodge without
bein’ watched, and we’ve got to be readv at
some of these times, to nab her up and be off
with her.”

“ What‘s to be done?”

{We can soon find out if the chief is down
the river or not. If he is, it won’t be long
afore we’ll see him in his canoe comin’ up
or crossin’ over.” .

“ If he is anywhere on this side the river, and

halted for the night, he cannot be far ofl", for l
have not come any great distance since then."
' “He mought beapnwerful sight closer nor
we think; what I’m afraid of is, that he has
been so near he‘s see’d us, and streaked off for
other parts, and so got out of our way.”

“One minute you discourage me, and the
next you fill me with hope,” replied Havens,
who spoke the literal truth regarding himself.
“But, at any rate, I know that if human
power, blessed by the smiles of Heaven, can no-
complish anything, the rescue of Adrian ’Wood-

1 land is certain.”

“Wal, at most we a slippery business. I’ve
done this thing off and on fur the last twenty
odd years, and sometimes I’ve missed, though .[
ginerally managed to come out right in the end
With most of ’em.”

“ It seems to me that we will be more likely

« to encounter them on the other side than here,"

said Havens, whose anxiety would not allow

I him to keep still, or to remain motionless for
. more than a minute at a. time.
‘

‘Wal, I dunno,“ replied the hunter, “ but
bein’hyar we’d better stay hyar fur the pres
ent, Yer go up the bank viz-ways, and er yer

 

see anything, whistle and I’ll come to yer, and
yer kin do the same fur me.”

This arrangement being agreed upon, the two
Separated, Kyle walking carefully upward
through the undergrowth, while our hero did
the same.

In the intensity with which both of the hunters
had scanned the river, they had almost forgot-
ten the lapse of time, and neither had any con-
ception of the distance they were really apart.

Kyle, us might naturally be expected, was the
first to rouse to a sense of the situation, although
he had wandered further than he intended at
the beginning. .

Taking one glance at the stream, be turned
about and began rapidly retracing his steps.

He was not a little astonished when he found
the distance be traversed before reaching his
canoe, where they had Separated.

From this he saw that Havens must still be a.
good distance away, and with a vague feeling
of alarm, he hurried down the shore, his speed
fre uently getting the better of his discretion.

e was in this nervous condition of mind,
when he was startled by hearing the whistle
which the two had agreed upon as the signal.
It sounded quite a. distance away, but it was
clear and distinct, and there was no mistaking

t.

“ I do b‘l’eve that yer‘ younker is in trouble,”
muttered the scout, as he hastened forward.
“That yer’ whistle sounds as though he had
found somethin’ he didn’t want to find.” ‘

One peculiarity attracth the notice of Kyle,
and it only deepened the conviction that some-
thing had one amiss with his friend.

The whistle, instead of coming from the
shore, as it ought to have done, if all “as right,
and he had descrird something of importance,
came from the interior of the wood—a fact
which boded good only upon the supposition
that his comra e had come upon the encamp-
ment of the Indians and their captive—a sup—
position so improbable that Kyle did not give it
a second thought.

Explain it as he chose, there was but one way
in which he could do so with any reason, and
that was that Brandon Havens was in trouble,
and had sent out the cry for help.

Man nor woman had yet to agpeal to the
large-hearted trapper in vain, an the “grass
did not grow under his feet.” as he sped toward
the direction of the sign of distress.

Suddenly he paused. '

Suspicion resolved itself into certainty.

On the mossy ground over which he was now
pastening, he caught the imprint of Havens’s
oot. '

It was there, clear and distinct, and there
was no mistakin . ‘ _ '

And equally cfiar and distinct besxde it was
the imprint of an Indian moccasin! .

And almost at the same moment he was made
aware of the approach of one of the redskms
themselves.

- CHAPTER x11.-
xvnn’s nerorr. -,
Beréérxmon HAVENS was sorely in need of help,

 

ind

 

 

22

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

 

It seemed for a time as if the fates were
against the success of the different schemes at-
tempted for the rescue of Adrian Woodland,
and for a time all progress was stayed.

From the moment or his separation from
Hugh Kyle, his whole soul was so intent upon
scanning the rushing river for some semblance
of a canoe, with its precious freight, that he
saw nothing else, nor indeed did aught else enter
his thoughts.

Stumbling and groping forward, he had gone
aconsiderable distance when again he caught
his foot and stumbled to the ground.

He was in the act of rising, when his arms
were suddenly seized from behind, and in a
twinkling he was made as secure as if hand-
cufl’ed.

Turning his head, Havens saw that he was in
the grasp of two Indians, who, he did not doubt
for an instant, were Delawares.

4‘ How do, brudderl" said one of them, with a
grin of delight at the success of their maneuver,
while at the same time they took pains to ren-
der his custody still more secure.

Havens struggled and did all in his power to
free himself, but he was helpless, and he finally
ceased his efforts from sheer exhaustion.

“ Brudder heap well?” inquired the same sav-
age, who appeared to have an abiding interest
in the bodily health of the young man.

“ Keep your mouth shut!” peremptorin com-
manded the latter, who was in any thing but a

leasant nicod, at the manner in which he had
Been checked while engaged in his pursuit.

The arms having been securely pinioned, the
Indians took possession of all his weapons, and
then placing themselves one on either side, they
ordered him to “ go much ahead.”

As they were not aware of the proximity of
the famous scnut they had little fear of pursuit,
and were not as urgent in hurrying their cap-
tive forward as they otherwise would have

aen.
Indeed, had they been aware of the danger
which menaced them. Havens would have been
. tomahawked on the spot, for they would have
run no risk of an encounter with the man whose
explmts had been famous among their people for
years past. .

The captive bethonght him of the signal for
communicating with Kyle, but he was fearful of
uttering it, lost it should also be comprehended
by the red-skins, who would bring things to a
‘crisis at once.

More than once he had shaped his mouth to
utter the whistle, but something stayed its utter-
ance with the whisper that the favorable mo-
ment would soon come.

Some distance was traversed in this manner,
until they reached a large branching tree, stand-
ing in a sort of opening, when the three halted.

Just at this juncture, a bird, in the very top
of the tree, gave utterance to a peculiar whistle-
like song.

Havens looked up at it, as though attracted
by its pretty notes, and then, as if replying to it,

I he gave the whistle agreed upon between Kyle
audhimself.

It was all done so naturally that the vigilant
Delawares never for a moment suspected that
anything lay at the bottom of it, not even when

 

the captive repeated the whistle, all the time
gazing up through the branches, as if he were
seeking to charm the feathered songster.

It was a mystery to Havens to understand
why the Indians had halted, when they had pro-
ceeded but such a short distance, but it was
soon explained.

It appeared that the savages were not alto-
gether satisfied that their prize had not its coun-
terpart somewhere in the neighborhood; and,
before advancing further, they wished to make
sure of the whereabouts of his companions, that
is, rov-ided he had any.

0, while one rested, the other took the back-
trail to make sure of the rear.

A short distance from where they had seized
their captive, the red-skin sprung across a small
brook. At the very instant of doing so, a shad~
owy form leaped out upon him he knew not
from whither, and a pair of vise—like arms were
thrown around him, and he was dashed to the
ground with the uickness of lightning.

The savage rea ized that he was locked in a
death—grapple, and struggled furiously, but he
was almost powerless, and in less time than it
takes us to record it, his earthly career was
ended.

“ Thar! confound yer!” muttered Kyle, as he
disengaged himself and rose to his feet. “ Yer
never l'arned to foller a. back-track, and I guess
it’s ruther too late fur yer to Peru.”

Leaving him where he lay, he resumed the
trail from which he had been sudden] diverted
by the unexpected appearance of the elaware.

Kyle advanced with greater caution than be-
fore; for, although no outcry had escaped the
red-skin during the struggle, yet it was often
the custom of the Indians to send a second man
upon the back-trail, to guard against the results
of just such an occurrence as had taken place a
few minutes before.

Then, too, it would be known how long he
ought to be absent, and continuing away beyond
that’time would excite suspicion.

So, from more than one cause, there was the
necessity for the greatest circumspection upon
his part, and Kyle was not the man to throw

away an opportunity by any carelessness or in- ‘

attention. -

He walked rapidly along the trail, his eyes
bent ahead. so as to detect the ap roach of an
enemy the instant it was reveale b any cau-
tious separation of the bushes or on ergrowth.

But even had the remaining Indian been ap‘
prehensive of the fate of his companion, he
could not have left the captive and gone to his
assistance.

Kyle had withdrawn the toniahawk from the ,

belt of the fallen Delaware, and with it in his
right hand and his rifle in his left, he walked
rapidly forward until he reached the clearing,
where he read the facts at a glance.

Certain there was but one red-skin to encoun-
ter, he strode straight forward, without any
concealment, until be confronted both captor
and captive.

The latter of course was delighted to see him,
and did not fail to express his pleasure. .

“ Just in time. Kyle; a little later. and it
would have been too late; but be careful; there’s
another Indian somewhere about,” .

 

 

 

i
:l
l '
~‘i
,i

33!... i- 

 

 

3?
y:
I:
i.
,1

‘t

l
l

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. e 23

 

“ Yas, and this hyar red’ll soon be ’bout too,”
re lied the scout.

Vhen the savage saw the white man stride
into the clearing, he grasped his knife and pre-
pared for the desperate hand-to—hand encounter.

He confronted the corner for a moment, and
then, while gazing earnestly in his face. he
seemed suddenly to become aware of his identi-

,ty, and to the surprise of the hunter, with a
suppressed whoop of dismay, turned on his heel,
and plunged into the woods.

But fast as he went, the skillfully ised and
powerfully hurled tomahawk overtoo him, and
struck him to the earth.

Ere he could rise, Kyle was upon him, and his
spirit was speedily sent to join that of his
brother in the happy hunting-grounds.

In a twinkling, the bonds which held Havens’s
hands were out, and he was free again.

, CHAPTER XIII.
WATCHING AND WAITING.

BY this time, Hugh K le had become fully
satisfied that Adrian oodland was on the
other side of the river, and that all the time
spent in their present position was lost.

So he determined to cross without delay, and
in case nothing was found upon the other side,
they would press on to the Delaware village
and make a. reconnoissance to find whether she
was there or not. '

If she were there, it was there that their
work lay. If nothing could be seen of her, or
of the chief, who was known to the scout by
sight, then his whole energy was to be devoted
to hunting them .up and intercepting them be
fore they could reach the village.

When the hunter had once made up his mind,
he did not take long to act.

Immediately upon restoring Havens to liberty
the two set out for the river, reaching it at the
point where they had left their canoe.

Five minutes later the delicate boat was upon
the swiftly—rushing river, headed and rapidly
propelled toward the other shore by the strong
and skillful arm 0: Kyle.

. The river was still falling rapidly, but it re-
quired a half-hour’s hard pulling before they
placed their feet upon dry land again. ‘

_“ Hyar We’ll leave the canoe,” said Kyle,
“ till we come back ag’iu.”

“ How is it," inquired Havens, as they walked
along, “that this side of the river is the least
dangerous, when the Delawares have their
lodges here? It seems it ought to be just the op-

site way."

“'l‘har‘s whar.a man’s eddycation comes in,”
replied Kyle, With some pride, at the prospect
at enlightening his young friend. “ Ef ye‘d
studied the woods and Injin ways as much as I
have, yer wouldn’t ax such a question.

“ The way of it is, the best huntin’-grounds

 

nr’ on t’other side, and that’s why yer find so'

many of the red-skins allers thar. But, they
claim the territory east of the river, and to
Show everybody that it belongs to them, they
have built thar lodges thar, and they make thar
hum thar. But the warriors ar‘ so much on
t’other side that you’re allers sure of findin’ 'em
tbar, while on this side you ain’t sure of stumb~
1111’ on any of ’em onless you git mighty clus to

 

the settlements. Thar they ar’ as thick as fleas,
and”thar’s jist whar I hope the gal hasn’t got

. “So do I,” fervently responded his compan-
ion.

It was about mid-day, but neither part y
thought of hunger. As they neared the theau r
of action, the interest of both seemed to inten-
sify.

For a considerable distance, they followed the
route of the river: but. at the end of several
miles, they turned eastward and plunged into
the thickest of the woods.

Everywhere the truck of the fi‘eshet was visi—
ble. lthougli the Rattlesnake River had by ro
means fallen to its usual level, yet it could be
Easily. seen that it had subsided fully a dozen

eet.

A person unused to the woods would not have
observed that they were traveling over ground
that had been frequently traversed before; but
the route they were pursuing had the appeal"
ance of having been swept by a fierce, narrow
stream of water which had wound through the
country in every imaginable direction.

“ That’s the’r path,” said Kyle, instinctively

modulating his Vuch to its lowest key. “ Feller '

that and we’d both go headlong into the hornets’
nest of a village.”

“ How far off?”

“Not fur; look out we don’t run on a lot of
’em unaware. More than fifty pair of feet have
tramped this path since mornin’.”

A short time afterward, and they had reached
the immediate vicinity of the Delaware village.
Only’ a few rods further, and the hunter an-
nounced to his companion that his part of the
labor was ended.

” Can I do nothing more?" he asked, in a tone
of disappointment.

“Nothin‘; you see I'm jist to take a look V

’round, and one pair of eyes can do that. while
one body ain’t quite so apt to git seen as two
would be.”

“ \Vell, be as quick as you can.”

“ Keep still, and don’t stir, fur if you wander
off, thar ain’t no time to hunt you up.”

With this precaution on the part of Kyle, he
took his departure, with the neiselessness of a
“shadow of the night.”

Left alone, Havens contented himself as best
he could. Where one was a prey to such intense
anxiety, it could not but be that a brief period
of time would seem intolerably long.

Minute atterininnte passed until fully an hour
had gone, a space of duration which, as Havens
afterward expressed it, seemed at least a dozen
times as long.

But, finally, when our here was about to de-
spair, a slight noise caught his ear, and looking
up, he saw his smiling friend standing heSIde

1m.

“ Well. what is it?” was the eager inquir .

“ I‘ve been clean around the village, an the
end of it is, the gal ain’t thar, nor is the Chief-
that’s sart’in." ' l '

“ From your ex ression, I think that IS good
news.” remarked avens, with a smile.

“Yes; I’d ruther hev it that way thin any
other."

“ What are we to do?”

...,-,x§..,,h._.... r 

 

 

 

 

 

24 Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

“ Now, if we can head ’em off, afore they go
back or run afoul of another party of skunks,
we've Iglot a sure thing of it, but thar’s the
rub. owsumever, we can’t tell till we’ve
tried.”

Kyle was a man of action, and he instantly
started off on the back—track.

He had gone but a few steps, when he ab-
ruptly halted, and turned toward Havens, with
an air of perplexity upon his face.

“ Thar’s one thing I ain’t ’zactly satisfied
about,” he said.

His friend waited for him to explain, which
he did in a few words.

“ I didn’t see uothin’ of Cut Nose nor Quigley;
they ain’t in the village.”

‘ Where are they?”

“ 1 hope they hain’t gone \after the chief, fur
it will make a tremendous ueg job of it, if
we’ve got to fight them both.”

“ I f the lady’s safety is not endangered there—
by, I would be glad ol’ it,” said Brandon, with
compressed lips, as he recalled the persecuting
ferocity the renegade had displayed toward the
fair one who heldsuch supreme control over the
emotions of his heart.

“ My sentiments.” said Kyle; “but jist thar
the trouble comes in. It would be bad fur her.
Either one of ’em would knife her, the minute
they thought thar was any chance of her fallin’
out of tha’r hands into ours."

The young man turned pale at this announce~
went, but he controlled the fury that was raging
in his breast.

In the mean time the day was wearing rapidly
away and time was of the first importance. -The
hunter still kept to the path, but although he
strode along at a rapid gait, he did not forget

‘ his usual caution.

When near the river, they left the beaten
track they had made during their coming.

Shortly after they reached the river, and fol-
lowed down its eastern shore, carefully scanning
the water on the lookout for the expected boat
and also for their enemies, who, there was
reason to suppose, were crossing the river, or
were hunting.

This conjecture of the hunter appeared the
more probable from the fact that occasionally
the reports of guns reached their ears.

They arrived at the spot where they had con—
cealed. their canoe. and had descended a few

* rods below, when Kyle uttered the startling ex-

clamotion:
“ Thar they be this minute I”
At the sametime he drew our hero back into

the concealment of the wood: but not until the

latter had caught sight of a. canoe near the other
side of the stream, heading toward them, and
,con taining several o'cuu pants. ,

“ That’s the boat, and the gel is in it,” added
Kyle, whose excitement seemed scarcely less

‘ than that of Havens.

With rapidly-beating hearts, the two men
waited and watched its approach.

CHAPTER XIV.
DIPLOMACY.
THERE was no mistake. Flying Antelope, his
wife, two children, and his adopted daughter,
Adrian Woodland, were in the canoe, and the

 

stalwart Delaware was heading directly toward
the point where the two hunters had hastily
concealed themselves.

“ Why does he cross here,” inquired Havens,
“ when his village is further 1.1 stream?”

“ For the same reason that done; when the
water runs so fast, it‘s easier to walk than to
paddle.”

It would be difficult to picture the interest
with which the two men watched the canoe and
its inmates, for both realized that important
events were close at hand.

Fortunately, Kyle had resolved on using ar—
§ument with the chief before resorting to force.

rom what he had heard of Flying Antelope he
knew him to be one of the most reasonable and
kind-hearted of Indians, which, after all, is not
saying a great deal, where so few possess such
attributes of character.

But he was resolved not to be defeated by any
decision of the chief. If he could not be in—
duced to ive up the captive after reasonable
persuasion ad been used, he would not hesitate
a moment to use force.

He had grappled with the red Indian too often
to be afraid of any of his kin; and although it
was in the presence of his wife and children, he
stood ready to bury his knife to the hilt in his

bosom if he persisted in forcing himself between “

Adrian Woodland and her friends.

The canoe lightly touched shore, and Flying
Antelope sprung out and drew it up on the
bank. /He was followed b his squaw, and then
Adrian and the two chi dren, who all turned
their faces toward the stream, as if watching
the movements of their leader.

Kyle heard the hurried breathing of Havens,
as the two lay side by side on their faces,
watching the persons before them, and he ad-
monished him, in the softestof whispers, to keep
cool.

Flying Antelope was given time to drew his
boat entirely up the bank, when he turned about
and found himself face to face with the noted
scout, Hugh Kyle!

It so happened that the chief and the entire
family faced about at the same time.

The hunter stood without his rifle, and with
his arms down at his side, in token of his peace-
ful intentions, but at the same time Brandon
Havens held the chief covered with his weapon,
without the savage being aware of it.

At the first indication of treachery he‘ would
have bored him through; and indeed, as it was,
he felt strongly tempted to do so, but mercy and
justice prevented.

To say that Flyindg Antelope and his party
were surprised won] but feebly express it.
The were amazed, dumfounded, and than the
habitual self—possession of the chief cametohim,
and he asked, in his broken English, while his
keen e c was fixed upon the scout:

“ What brudder want?"

But before the scout could reply, Adrian had
recognized him, and she rushed forward and
threw herself in his arms.

“At lust—at last you have come. Why did

on wait so long?” she asked, sobbing and weep-
hug as if the greatest grief of her life was upon

8T.
“ Thar! tharl gal, don't go on so i" said Kyle, ,

 

 

 

I humane... 4b

 

 

 

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

25

 

gently raising her head from his shoulder. “ It’s
all right now, and I’ve come to take you home;
but 1 must do a little palaverin' first; so jist step
aside till I it through with this copper-skin. ’7

“ You wi Inot leave me, will you?” she said,
turning her streaming eyes upon him.

“ Not While thar’s a breath of life in this good-
fur-nothin’ body of mine. It’s all fixed, but
afore I go I must he perlite to this red-skinned
rascal, and bid him goochby in proper st lo.”

“ The pale-faces mourn for their child, ’ began
the hunter, adopting the figurative language
common to the Indian, and speaking in the
Delaware tongue; “ he has come through the
woods a long way for his daughter.”

“The pale-face has no daughter; she is now
the child of Flying Antelo ." /

“ But her heart is far 0 , where the heads of
a father and mother ar’ bowed in rief.”

“ The ‘Flower of the Woods’ b ooms in the
garden of Flying Antelope. Her face is its sun—
shine; if she goes, all will be darkness.”

“ But she will light up the night that is around
them. They ’ve been in it for many moons.
How was the lodee of Flying Antelope before
the Flower came to it?”

“It was dark. and it will be dark still; the
light of his lodge will be gone forever; the
Flower of the Woods cannot go.”

While this dialogue was going on, Brandon
Havens rose from the ground where he lav
crouched and walked toward the s eakers. '

The chief turned his eyes quicldy when he
caught si ht of him, but paid no further atten-
tion, an continued his palaver with the
hunter.

Adrian started, and her face showed plainly
that she was. pleased as well as sur rised—a
manifestation that sent a tingle o delight
through the veins of our hero.

Whatever affection of mind the girl had suf-
fered during the last few days was entirely gone
now, and she was keen, bright, and herself

am.
gShe smiled pleasantly as Havens came up, and
extended her hand to him.
“ We parted yesterday rather suddenly," she
said, “ before I had time to say good-by to

; it was a great surprise and disap—
pointment when I came back and found you
gone.

In a few words Adrian then gave the particu-
lars of her going away with the chief, which,
as the reader already knows, tallied in a re-
markable manner with the conjecture already
made by Kyle the hunter.

Havens, in turn, related his meeting with the
latter, and referred to the numerous and con—
tinued attempts that had been made to recover
her by her friends. "I

“ You had two hitter enemies.” said Havens,
after a moment‘s silence, “ Cut Nose and Quigley.
Where am they?” 4

“ I last, saw them in the village, just before
this reat storm came up}!

“ hey were not there a few hours ago, when
Kyle, made a reconnolssance while searching for
you.

“ I suppose, then, that they are of! on a hunt,
as they are nearly always together.”

“ The young man was somewhat disappoini'ed
in finding that this chief had adopted you.”

“Yes; it was a surprise to him, and he was
furious for a time, but it could not be helped,
so he said nothing more about it. I always be—
lieve, however, tout he and Cut Nose had some
plan of their own for getting me out of his hands;
and when, yesterday, I found myself floating
alone on the river, I was terrified at the thought
of their finding me. I even longed for the. a
pearance of the chief, and was glad when 6
found me and took me away, for I knew that,
with him, I was safe against those two men at
least. Could I have been certain that you were
a friend, nothing Would have been further from
my wishes than to leave you; but you see 1
could not know that.”

“ No; I understand and appreciate it all. I
was sorely disappointed at losing you.”

And then Havens blushed as he recalled his
own fervent declaration before their separation.

But the negotiations of Flying Antelope and
Kyle were now coming to a conclusion. The
chief insisted on refusing, hut finally agreed to
refer the mutter to Adrian l erself.

This was done, and there is little need of tell-
ing the result. In a graceful speech, that dis-
played not a little tact, she convinced the chief
that she would never fail to cherish the kindest
feelings toward him, in remembrance of his
kindness to her; but her heart was with her own
people and there she must go.

Thereupou, Flying Antelope folded his blanket
around him, and followed by his squaw and

with rapid strides toward his lodge.

He never once looked back, and in a few
minutes he and his family vanished in the
wood.

“Now we must make tracks,” exclaimed
Kyle, “and that purty lively, too. That chief
moans treachery l”

CHAPTER XV.
TREACHERY.

“ WHAT do you mean?" inquired Havens

“ I tell yer that chap means to play us a trick;
he’s been clever ’nough with the gel and all that,
but thar’s no trustln’ a red-skiu.’

The hunter waited until (he Delawares had
been gone some time, and then be begun moving
up—stream, toward 'the point where his canoe
had been left. '

Upon reaching the spot, it was found that the
string had been cut, and the boat was gone.

Kyle uttered an oath.

“Jest what I expected.”

iug hack. _ t

“ Of course, but we can’t handle that like my
own,” replied the scout, as he turned and led the
way down—stream.

Upon reaching the spot, this canoe also had dis-
appgared, and they were without boat of any
kin . ' -

The face of the scout fairly flamed lightning.
He was furious.

“ Feller me," said he; “ we‘ll take to the
woodsuthar’s a short out home, but it’s mighty
risky.’

 

«or

children, turned his face northward and walked ‘

But another disappointment awaited them. ‘

“ Let us take his canoe!" said Brandon, turn- ' i "

 

 

 

 

   
  
   
    
   
 
  
   
   
 
   
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
   
 
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

 

26 Old Kyle’s Long- Tramp;

 

Matters began to look dark but Kyle never
once lost his presence of min , or hesitated as
to what course to pursue.

When he discovered that both boats were.

gone, he turned about and struck boldly into
the woods, moving eastward at as rapid a gait
as ossible.

e was certain that Flying Antelope would
put himself in communication with some of his
race around him, and there soon would be a hot
pursuit.

It was yet early in the afternoon, and it was
therefore of the highest importance that they
should put all the distance possible between
them and their enemies before a combination
could be formed, and a pursuit organized.

“ lf yer knows how to tramp, now’s the time
to do it,” called out the scout as he strode along.
“Thar never was such need of gittin’ ahead as
thar is this minniti”

“What point are you aiming at?” inquired,
Havens, as they hurried along.

“Black Creek,” was the reply, “and we’ve
got to get tliar purty soon ef we want to save
our ha’r.” ,

The cause for this rather forcible exclamation
was speedily understood. Hugh Kyle’s great
object was to hide his trail, and so long as they

remained in the woods, this was impossible.

There was not the least doubt but that Flying
Antelope would collect a party of pursuit as
speedily as he could. He had simply yielded
because he could not help himself, and he was
now doing his utmost to repair his mistake.

The distance between their present location
and their destination in Illinois was so great
that there was no way by which they could
keep out of the reach of the Delawares, except
by stratagem.

Impeded as their flight was with the presence
of Adrian, it would be comparatively an easy
matter for the fleet-footed red—skins to overhaul
them, and hence the natural anxiety of Kyle to
make the best time possible out of the dangerous
neighborhood.

They were walking in this manner as fast as
they could, when a peculiar whoop was heard
several hundred yards in their rear. ~

“ That’s Cut Nose,” exclaimed Kyle. '

“ What is the meaning of it?”

“Twenty odd years ago he gave the same

‘ whoop when he got on my track, and was sure
‘ he had me.”

“ Then he is on our trail?”

“ As sart’in as you live, and that ar’ whoop is
meant to let the others know he’s found it.”

The face of Adrian blanched at the words of
of the scout, and she leaned heavily upon the
arm of Havens.

“Oh. must we fail again?” she murmured.

, “ I shall die, if we do not reach home.”

“ While there’s life there’s hope,” replied our
hero. who at the some time. felt that the latter

_ was diminishing fast. “ Keep up your courage,

dearest.”

The hour of danger tends to draw the cold
and formal closer together, and it seemed to
Havens in the darkness which was again closing
around them, that the fair one b his side never
seemed sweeter and nearer and earer.

He found himself addressing the most endear-

 

WK“—

ing epithets, and Either she did not objectto
them. or she did no hear them.

Deeply occupied as they were with the fright-
ful peril which again menuced them, he found
time to look admiringly upon the shell-tinted
cheek, the wealth of flowing hair, the dark,
liquid eyes, now expanded through fear to a
size that made them wondrously beautiful, the
elastic step, and the form of matchless sym-
metry. .

Adrian, from her long residence among the
Delawares, was dressed almost entirely in the
costume of an Indian, which, from its brilliant
hues, added a wild appearance to her beauty,
and made her look like a tropical bird flitting
through the forest.

Her color was hightened by the speed which
was required to keep pace with the scout, who,
angr and furious at the network of peril
whic seemed to be closing about him, was
speeding over the ground at a more rapid gait
than he was aware of. He traveled like a men
seeking to get away from his own angry pas-
sxon.

Providentially, Black Creek was near by, and
soon the shimmer of the water was seen through
the trees.

When the three fugitives reached it they
were almost ufiou a run. Kyle instantly halted
and gazed bac , listening the while.

“ No one is in sight yit, but it won’t be long
before they’ll be hyar. ast summer, when I
went by this creek, I tumbled onto an Injin
canoe, and at it’s only hyar yit, thar’s hope.
Look sharp both of yer, and let me know wheth-
er yer see any thing like it."

“Is that it yonder?" asked Adrian, pointing
to a fallen tree. 

“ Lord bless yer eyes, that’s jist what it ar’,"
laughed the scout, as he ran rapidly a short
distance, and drew forth a smal canoe from
where it had been stowed bottom upward, beside
a large log.

“ Jist the thing we wanted,” he exclaimed, in
great glee. “ Now into it, both of yer; that is
as soon as I can git it into the water."

He lifted the delicate structure as though it
were as light as gossamer, and ran rapidly to
the creek, where it floated like a cork upon the
surface. ,

The next minute Adrian and Brandon had
entered the boat, and with paddle in hand Kyle
followed them. ’

NOW. under the guidance of heaven, all de-

.nded upon the skill of the scout. It was no

onger a mere contest of physical endurance, or
fleetness of foot, but it was mind against mind,
in a field where the Indian was at home.

Kyle well knew that his trail would be fol-
lowed to the very point of embarkation, when
the Delawares would immediately comprehend
what had taken place, and then the real search
would begin.

Hugh Kyle knew, as well as if he were an
Indian himself. what the conclusion of the red-
skins would he, whenthey reached the edge of
the creek. Knowing that they had a skilled
woodman to contend against, they would decide
that he had paddled down-stream, With all the
strength at his command, so as to ass as great
a distance as possible, and then e ther had hid

 

 

 

 

      
 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

w

Old Kyle's Long Tramp. " 2‘2?

or disembarked at some point that would be
likely to escape observation, or he had gone up-
stream a considerable way, and done the same
thing. ,

Consequently to head ofl" the party, the
savages would divide and proceed as rapidly
as possible, one going up and the other down-
stream, scrutinizing the shore as they went.

And yet the scout did neither, nor did he cross
the stream at all.

That which he decided upon doing, and which
he did without an instant’s heSitation, required
no little “ nerve,” and was the very last maneu-
ver that would have occurred to nine persons
out of ten.

He stealthin paddled about a hundred feet
upstream, and then halted. Fortunately for
his scheme, both sides were deeply fringed with
luxuriant undergrowth, which offered the best
concealment possible under the circumstances.

Then he put the boat in such a position that
there was considerable undergrowth between it
and the Shore. 3

“ Now,” he whispered, with a warning motion
of his finger, “ not a word from either (if yer.
The red-skins ar‘ all about us, and they’ve got
powerful sharp ears I can tell yer.” ’

His warning was remembered and implicitly
followed, although it was incomprehensible to
Havens that his friend should have halted at a
paint so near their place of emhai'kation. Had

e been given the charge of affairs, he would
have improved the time y getting away as far
as ossible from their enemies. ,

ut Kyle had halted here, because he knew
none of the Indians would suspect such a thing,
and consequently the chances were that scarcely
any search at all would be made of 'the place
where they were actually concealed.

This was his reason for entering the lion’s
mouth, and the result showed his wisdom.

They had been here less than five minutes,
when the same whoop that had first caught their
ear was again heard, sounding from the place
where the fugitives had taken to the water.

Kyle smiled and looked in the faces of his
friends, but neither party said any thing. All un-
derstood that Cut Nose had discerned something
and had signaled the fact to his companions,
win; no doubt were rapidly hastening to the
spo .

The silence that followed lasted perhaps fifteen
min _tes and then, as Havens was just framing
his IDS‘tO ask a whispered question, the scout
raised his finger for him to keep still.

“ ’Shl they’re s'archin’.” =

Almost at the same moment, a cautious step
was heard upon the round near them, and im-
mediately after the, ushes were separated, by
one of the Indians. v
' Nothing suspicious meeting his gaze, he then
withdrew and walked away, soon passing up-
stream and beyond hearing.

Minute after minute paSSed and nothing fur-
ther was heard of the Delawares. Whether
they were above or below or on the other side of
theriver could only be conjectured, but the sup-
position ot the hunter was that they had gone
on up the stream, and were at that moment at
a considerable distance away.

As the afternoon advanced, Kyle determined

‘g'fit?

 

\

to make another reconnoissance to assure him-
self of the exact condition of affairs. Admon—
ishing his friends to maintain the strictest silence,
and on no account to move away from their
position, he stealthily lowered himself over the
side of the canoe, sinking to his waist in the
water, and disappeared.
CHAPTER XVI.
THROUGH THE FIRE.

THOSE were happy moments, although sur—
rounded by peril, when Brandon Havens and
Adrian Woodland were left together;\

They dared not make any audible utterances,‘
but “ soft eyes looked love to eyes that spoke
ag’in,” and the memory of those blissful mo-
ments lingered by them both through after life.

After a time both began to ’feel some natural
concern at the prolonged absence of the scout.
This uncertainty after a time became so pain-
ful that Havens made the rash conclusion of
stealing out for a short distance, to see whether
any thing could he learned of the cause of his
absence. -

He was earnestly dissuaded against it, by
Adrian, but he promised to use great care and
stealth, and next minute he followed in the
footsteps (if such an expression be admissflole) of
Kyle, and our heroine found herself, for the
time lit-ing. left entirely alone.

Perhaps a half~hour had passed, when the
welcome sound of an approaching person was
heard, and instantly after the bushes parted to
admit him.

“ I am so glad you have returned; for I have
been half dead ever since—”

Adrian Woodland suddenly paused, for as the

bushes parted neither Brandon Havens nor

Hugh Kyle appeared, but in their stead, the
hideous grinning face of Cut Nose!

Overcome by terror, the poor girl bowed her
head and covered her face, as if to receive the
stroke of the expected tomahawk.

The red—skin, however, contented , himself
with beginning to shove the canoe through the
bushes. As he stood about waist~deep in the.
water, this was an easy matter, and be moved
through the undergrowth, using the boat as a.
wedge to open a way for himself, while the un-
fortunate Adrian sat almOst unconscious as the
bushes brushed over her head.

By-and-hy the water began to deepen, and
when it reached the arm—pits of the savage he
drew himself up into the boat and took the pad.

dle.

With a little more labor he sent the canoe into
open water, and then plying the oar With the
skill natural to an Indian, he sped sw1ftly down
the creek toward the river.

Had Adrian but glanced up, she would have
observed in the appearance of the red-skin an
action and manner which betokened an expect-
ancy of meeting some one.

He glanced from shore to shore, and frequent-
ly held his paddle motionless in his hand, as if .
listening for some expected signal.

Soon it came, in the shape of a whistle on the
right. With one sweep of his paddle he sent the
frail vessel against the bank, and then halted,
without once motioning to get out of the canoe.

He had to wait but a few moments, when a,

 

 

28

Old Kyle’s Long Tramp.

 

light footstep was heard, and instantly after,
Zeke Qui ley, the renegade, stepped into the
canoe, an it resumed its way down-stream.

Sad Adrian could barely keep her senses when
she realized that she was againin the society and
in the power of these two dreadful men.

When she recognized Quigley, she again cov-
ered her face with her hands, and only prayed
that he would not speak to her, but even that
was not answered.

“ Wal, my booty, yer didn’t succedd in gittin’
of! this time, (lid yer?”

She made no reply, and after waiting a mo-
ment or two the renegade continued:

“I don’t want to hurt yer feelings, gal, but
of ye’ve any lingerin’ ’fection fur that old codger
that yer called Kyle, yer may as well drop a
tear.”

A chill thrilled through her as she compre-
hended very well the meaning of those words;
still she resolutely refused to break the silence,
and Qui ley continued:

“ Elf t ar ever was a feller that went under
bootiful it was that same chap. Three bullets
right through him, afore they lifted his ha’r,
but he had to come to it at last.”

. The sobs that escaped Adrian told how great
was her grief. Poor Kyle! her faithful friend!
he was gone at last! i

But the culminating grief was now to come.

“And that ’ere younker; he was my game,
and when he come nosin’ ’round, I jist let day-
light through him, and that war the end of
him__” a

A gasping scream escaped Adrianéher feel—
ingsl overcame her, and she swooned away on-

ire y.

She recovered herself in a few minutes, and
found that the two savages had not given her
the least attention or notice.

Observing that she was herself again, the ren-
egade continued:

“Rather fainty, eh? Sorry, but you must get
_ used to these things. As Flying Antelope is
flow out of the way, I'll have more time to give

you.

He rattled on in this aimless, unfeeling man-
ner, while the canoe glided swiftly forward.

But the words came to Adrian as words come
: to us in dreams, and they finally ceased to make
an impression.

he was aroused from her stupor by the in—
creased loudness of the words of the two men in
the canoe. The hum of their conversation had
been in her ears, but she had not noticed their
language, until their voices grew so loud as to
alarm her.

Then she realized that they were quarreling,
growing more angry each moment, and what
was worse, they were wrangling over her.

Finally the exas erated Delaware SWerved
the canoe about an shot it with a sharp thud
against the hank, and springing out, drew his
' knife and braced himself for the encounter that
 was now inevitable.

There was no escaping it, and the renegade
lea d out with his drawn knife in his hand.

‘ he transfixed Adrian was consoious of the
lightning-like sweeping of the muscular arms,
the thrusts and crossings, the muttered er
clamations, and then, Zeke Quigley fell forward

 

on his face, with the hunting-knife thrust into
his heart.

For one moment, the exultant Cut Nose sur—
veyed the lifeless form, and then with an evil
gleam he advanced toward the horrified Adrian.

But ere he reached her, a dark form shot out
of the wood like a meteor, striking and bearing
him to the ground, where, for a few seconds,
there was a furious struggling, and then, as
Kyle rose to his feet, he exclaimed:

“ Thar, Cut Nose, you ma as well keep com-
pany with Zekel You and have squared ac-
counts at last, and now it rests atween you and
the One above!”

CHAPTER XVII.
CONCLUSION.

THE encounter between Cut Nose and the
renegade the death of the latter, the bursting
of Hugh kyle upon the scene, and the killing of
the Delaware himself—all took place in such a
short period of time, that the bewildered Adrian
Woodland did not comprehend her deliverance
until the canoe was speeding over the creek,
propelled by the puddle of the scout, whose
hronzed face melted into an expression of ten-
der pity. as he looked upon her, and said more
to himself than to her.

“ Poor gal! you’ve seen sights that no white
gal has a right to see, but you'll never have to
go through it ag’in."

“ Is he dead?’ she asked, turning her wistful
eyes toward him.

:“ Who do you mean—Zeke or Cut Nose? I
guess that neither one of ’em is of much ac-
count jist n0w.”

“ No, no-he—-—Brandon Havens!”

" Bless yer heart, no, gal. I left him half an
hour ago, hid alongside an oak log, half-crazy
’cause the boat was gone. While me were
watchin’ thar, the canoe went right along un-
der our noses, with Zeke Quigley and Cut Nose
squatted in it. Wal, tharl ef yer ever see’d a
man excited, that young chap war. It war all
I could do to keep im down to the ground, and
I hadto jerk him back two, three times, and
sw’ar I’d break his head afore he’d mind.

“ Yer see thar war two of us and two of
them, and he wanted us each to send a bullet
through our man; but thar war the sart’inty of
hein’ heard by the others, and hringin’ the whole
Caboodle down on us. So I made him keep
quiet. while I follered along waitin’ for. the
chance that I knowed I’d soon git.

“When they begun to quarrel, I see’d how
it war comin’ out, and when they went ashore
to fight, I jist looked on and enj’yed it, and
when thar war only one man left. then I sailed
in and wiped him out, and made things square.
So, gal, ycr hain’t got no reason to fear nothin’
from Cut Nose nor Zeke Quigley.“

While Kyle was imparting this interesting in-
formation, he was swinging the paddle, and

 

‘ ” hugging” the shore as closely as possible.

The sun had Set, and in the gloom of the wood
everything along shore was in the shadow.

Softly the li ht canoe glided up the creek
the scout gra uall slowmg the paddle, until
finally he ceased la 1' altogether, and carried
forward by its already acquired impetus, the
canoe kept on, slowly slackening the speed, unv

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

l,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

01d Kyle’s Long Tramp.

29

 

til finally it'caineto a dead standstill, with its
prow touching the shore as lightly as the float-
ing feather. .

At the same moment, Brandon Havens came
out from the concealment, and silently stepped

into the boat.

But Kyle still held the Vessel motionless.

“ We must wait hyar a. while till it its
darker,” said he, by way of explanation. “ he
copper-skins ar’ ruther plenty in these parts.”

hen a. half-hour had. worn by, it waS'too
dark to see across the creek. During all that
time not}; sound of their toes had been heard.
Everything indicated that they had been thrown
OK the track together.

And during the same half~hour, Adrian
Woodland and Brandon Havens exchanged ex-
periences, Since their separation, conversing in
those low, subdued tones, so naturally assumed
by those whose souls are drawn toward each
other.

As silently as a phantom of the night, the
canoe glided out from the shore, and continued
its upward course. Kyle Would not allow his
friends to converse even in whispers, and with
such skill did he handle his paddle, that the
canoe might have brushed the scalp—lock of the
crouching Delaware without his ear detecting
any sound. ‘

There was a soothing influence in this gliding
motion; and when Havens saw the head of
Adrian Woodland begin to droop, be carefully
folded the shawl about her shoulders, made her
position aseasy as possible, and she slept the
dreamless sleep of health and innocence.

Even Brandon himself was not proof against
the somnolent effect of their easy motion, and
he soon dropped off into the realms of uncon-
sciousness. . '

It was past midnight when the canoe came to
a standstill, near what appeared to be a clear-
ing, and the scout stepped ashore.

Even now he would not have halted, had he
not reached and really passed the point where
he promised to “call” for the brothers Gaskill,
whom, it will be recollected, he had instructed
to await his coming.

Touching the shoulder of Havens, he awoke
him and said:

“l’ve got to leave yer fur an hour or two,
and yer must keep watch over the gal.”

“ I‘ll do so,” replied our hero, promptly.
“ Are we in danger?” '

“ Not from the red-skins: but once in a while
thar’s such a critter asa b’ar or painter that
comes nosin" and smellin’ round.”

An hour’s tramp brought the hunter to the
cavern, where he expected tofind his friends
asleep; but, somewhat to his surprise, it was

empty.

Thinking there might be some explanation of
their leaving thus, he flashed the powder in his
pan, and by its light discovered a piece of wad-
ding-paper upon the floor. upon which he saw
something written in pencil.

Not being able to read script, but satisfied
that it contained what he wanted to know, he
carefully preserved it, and started back to the

canoe.
He handed the blank piece of wedding; to
Havens, stating where he had found it. '

 

Our hero read it, and found that it was writ-
ten by Edward Gaskill, addi eased to Kyle, and
stated that shortly after the departure of the
scout, the appearance of Indians on the hunt
for trail, in their close vicinity, had so aroused
their fears that they deemed it the part of wis-
dom to get out of such a dangerous country as
soon as possible, and had started for home, and
where, it may as well be stated here, they ar-
rived in due time.

“ I’m glad they’ve one, fur we won’t be
bothered with them!’ remarked the scout.
“They know’d, of course, that I’d find yer if
yer was among the livin’."

The rifle of the latter was an unfailing re—
Iiance for food, and our friends never suffered
in that particular during the few days occupied
on their homeward tramp.

 

We draw the veil over the meeting between
Adrian Woodland and her parents. Our feeble

pen cannot paint the touching picture, and we, 9

dismiss it With the simple tear of sympathy.
He who doeth all things well had chastened .
them sorely, but while He had wounded, He
had wounded to heal.

And of the growth of that all- otent passion
of our nature between Adrian oodlandand

Brandon Havens—of the tender meetings—the , ./

mutual avowal—the hetrothal—the happiness ”

of the fruition of true love—oh, gentle reader, V
hast thou not seen it all in imagination, and
does aught remain for us to tell?

THE END.

DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS

FOR S 0110 0L EXHIBITIONS
AND HOME ENTER TAJNMENTS.

 

Dialogue. Nos. 1 to 35 inclusive. 15 to 25 popue
lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each vol-
ume 100 pages l2mo.

Speaker, Nos. 1 to 25 inclusive. Each speaker
100 pages i2mo. containing from 50 to 75 pieces.

YOUNG PEOPgiE’S SERIES.

Dime Book of Winter Sports.
Dime Book of Summer Athletic Sports.
Dime Gents' Letter Writer.
Dime Book of Etiquette.
Dime Book of Verses.
Dime Book of Dreams.
Dime Fortune Teller.
Dime Ladies’ Letici- Writer.
Dime Lovers' Casket.
Dime Ball-Room Companion.
Dime Book of 100 Games.
Dime Chess Instructor,
Dime Book of Beauty.

For sale by all newsdealers. or sent. post-paid, on
receipt of price—ten cents.
BEADLE AND ADAMS. PUBLISHERS,
98 William Street. New York.

\

f g;

 

 

I In The Yunkee Hunger.

BEADLE’S POCKET LIBRARY.

r Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents.

 

129 Eagle Kit. the Ray Demon. By 011 Caomes.
130 Gold Trigger. the Sport. By T. (7. llarbnngh.

131 A Game oi’ Gold; or, Deadwood chk's Big Strike. By
Edward L. Wheeler.

1853 Dninty Lance, the Bay Sport. ByJ. E. Badger, Jr.

183 “'lld-ilrc. thu Bum ot'thc Road. lly Frank Dumont.

13-1 Mike Merry, the l'lnrhur l’ullt'e liny. By Charles Morris.

185 Deadwood Dick of Demlwood. By E. L. Wheeler.

186 Old Rube. nu. lluuter. n,- cimz. umnmon Holmes.

18? Dnndy Rock, the Man from Texns. By G. ‘Wmdo Browne.

138 Bob Rocked, the Buy Dodger. lly Chas. Murril.

189 The liluek Giant; or. Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. By Jos.
E. Badger. Jr.

140 Cuptnln Arizona. By Philip S. \Varne.

141 New York Nell, the Boyir‘irl Detective. By E.I.. “’heeler.

142 Little Toxnn, the Young Mustaager. By 011 (funnies.

148 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. By Jon. E.
Badger. Jr.

144 Little Grit, (he Wild Rider.

145 The Tlger oi'Tnon. By Gen, \anrlo Browne.

146 The Cntiie Kin By Frank Dumont.

147 Nobhy Nick oi'Nevndn. By Edward L. Wheeler.

148 Thunderbolt: Tom. By Harry St. George.

149 Bob Ros-lieu, the Bank Runner. By Charles Morrin.

150 The Mad Miner. By G. VVuldn Browne.

151 The Son Trnller. Hy Col. Prentiu lngraham.

152 Dnndy Durke; ur, The Tigers (diligh i’inu. By W. R. Eylter.

153 “’lld Frank, the Burkskin Bravo. By E. L. Wheeler.

154 The Buy Trnilera. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

155 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit By Col. Prontiu lngrnlmm.

156 “'1” “'ildilre ill the “'omlu. By 0. Morris.

157 Ned Telnule, the Border llny. lin. C. Hnrbnugh.

158 Deadwood Dluk‘n Doom. By E. L. Wheeler.

15!) Patent-Leather Joe‘a Defeilt. By Philip. S. “Fame.

180 lillifnlu Billy, the Buy Ballwhacknr. By Col. 1’. Ingrnhlm.

161 Bob Beckett, the Cracksman. By Charles Morrls.

By Col. Prentln lngralnun.

 

' 182 Little llurrloane, the Boy ('nplniu. By Oil Cuonm.

168 Deadwood Dick’s Dream. By E. L. Wheeler.
16-} Tornado Tom. By 'I'. C. l-iarhaugh.
135 Bull’nlo Jiill’l Bet. By Col. Prentiss Ingmhnm.
166 Will “'ildiiro “'ins and Loreen. By Charla. Morris.
_ 167 Dnndy Roek‘n Pledge. By George W. Browne. '
168 Deadwood Divk’n “'nrd. By Edward L. Wllneler.
169 The [Boy Champion. By Edward Willett.
170 Bob lloekctt’n Fight for Life. By Charles Morris.
' 171 Frnnk Morton, the Buy lll~rrul«-:|. liyOIlCoomel.
By Edwin Emerson.
173 liiek Dlnu‘lc, Scout. 'lly Edward S. Ellis.
74 Dandy Roek'n Sohenie. By G. W. llrnwno.
J‘i'li The Arab Detective. By Edward L \Vlmeler-
176 \Vill ‘Vlldllre‘o Pluck. By Charles Mann.
1?? The Boy Commander. lly Col. l’rentiu Jnxrnhnm.
1?8 The Munlne Hunter. By Burton Snxe.
179 Dainty Lance; or, Tim Mystic Marianna“. By J. E. Badger
1H0 The Boy Gold-limiter. By 'I‘. (I. Harhaugh.
181 The fionpezrnee Ron. By Charles Marris.
.182 The Dark-Skinned Spout. By Lient. Col. Hazeltlue.
183 Jnlu-z Dart, Duh-Clive. By Oll Gnomes. '
1H4 l"euther\\'0ight, the Boy Spy. By Edward Willett.
1R5 Bllon Bill, the Overland Prince. By Col. l’rentiu Ingrnham
180 Dainty Laume nnd lliu l’nrd. By Juseph E. Badger, Jr. '
18? The Trapped ’l‘lger King. By Charle» Norris.
188 The Ventriioqulnt Detective. By Edwaru L. Wheeler.
189 Old Rocky‘s Boyu. By Maj. Sara. S. Hall.
190 Elfin Bimnklnl, Smut. By damn L. Bowen.
191 Dandy Rock’fl Rival. fly Geo. Waldo Browne.
192 Hickory flurry. By Hurry St. George.
.198 Detective Joni: Grim. By Edward L. Wheeler.

 

194 Proapeet Pete, the Boy Miner. By 0]] Gnomes.

195 The Tcnderi‘oot Trailer. By '1‘. C. Hurhaugh.

198 The Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris.

19? Boy, the Young Cattle King. By Col. Prentiss lngrahnm.

1 98 Ebony Dan’s Mun-k. By Frank Dnmont.

199 Dictionary Nat, Detective. By T. (I. Harbangh.

200 The Twill Horsemen. By Capt. Frederiolr Whittaker.

201 Dandy Dnrke’s l’urdu. By Wxn. R. Ey-Ler.

202 Tom, the Texan Tiger. By Oil Coomes.

208 Sam, the Oflice Boy. By Charles Morris.

204 The Young Cowboy. liy Col. Prentiss ingrnlmm.

2‘. 5 The Frontier Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.

206 “'hltc Light lng; or, The Boy Ally. By T. C. Harhuuzh.

20? Kentuck Tnlbot’u “and. By Capt. Mark Wilton.

208 Trapper Tom’s Cnutle Mystery. By Oil Coomas.

209(‘hc Memenger-Boy Detective. By Clllll’iea Mon-1.

210 The llum-hbnek ofthe Mines. By Joseph Ii. Barker, Jr.

211 Little Giant nnd Illa Bnnd. lly Philip S. Warne.

212 The Jimtown Eport. By Edward L. “'hccler.

218 The Pirate’s Prize. By C. Dunning Clark.

214 Dandy Dave, of Shanta. By T. C. Ilurbaugh.

215 The Denver Deter-tire. lly Oll Gnomes.

216 The Cowboy Cnpinln. By Col. i‘rentisu lngrnlum

217 Bald Head of the Rockies. By Maj. Sam. 5. Hall.

218 The Minor Sport. By Edward 1.. Wheeler.

2151 Buck, the Detective. By Albert W. Aiken.

280 Crack-Shot Frank. By Charles Murris.

221 Merle the Mlddy. lly Col. Prentiss lngruham.

222 Ronebud “en’s Boys. By 011 Coonm.

223 Gold Conrad’s Wntethogn. By ’1‘. C. Hnrhnngh.

224 Frisky Fergus, theflNew York Day. By G. L. Aiken.

225 Dick Drew, lhe Miner’s Son. By Edward L. Wheeler.

226 Dakota Dick in Obit-ago. By Charles Morris.

22? Merle, the Boy Cruiser. By Col. Prenhsungmhum.

228 The Preacher- Detective. By Oll Coumen.

229 (Did lliokory’a Grit. By John J. Marshall.

980 Three Boy Sports. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

231 Sierrn Sam, the Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.

232 Merle Monte’a Trennnrc. By Cal. Prentiss lngrnharn.

238 Rocky Rover Kit. By Ensign C. D. Warren.

2334 Baldy, the Miner Chief. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.

285 Joel: Sinnlp's Cruise. By Roger Stm'huek.

286 Sierra Sam’s Double. lly Edwurd L. Wheeler.

23? Newlboy Nod, Detective. lly Charles Morris.

285 Merle Monte’l Fen-Scraper. By ('nL Prentiss Ingmllan.

239 Ben's Big Boom. lly Capt. Mark \l'ilwn.

240 Sharp Shoot Mike. ByOll Com-ms.

241 Sierra Ram’s Sentence. By Edward L. wheeler.

942 The Denver Detective. By T. C. llnrhnngh.

248 Dutch Jan’s Dilemma. By Maj. L. W. Carson.

244 Merle Monte”! Dinguise. By Cul. Preaths lllgrahlm.

245 Duldy’a Boy Partner. By Edward S. Eills. '

248 Detective Keen’s Apprentice. By Charles Morrll.

247 The Girl fiport». By Edward L. Wheeler.

248 Ginnt George’s Pard. By Buckskin Sam.
Ready October 10.

249 Rnneh Rob’l Wild Ride.
Ready October 17.

250 Merle Monte’s Pardon.
Ready October 24. y

261 The Denf’lletectlve. Bv Edward Willen.
Rudy October 31. i r

By T. C. Harbnngh.

By Col. Prentlu Ingralmn.

Issued Every Wednenday.

Beadle’s Pocket Library In for sale by all Newuiealerl, flu‘
cent! per copy. or sent by mall on receipt of six cents each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. I’Ilblinherlg
95 Willlfiia Street. New York.

 

5'
3
l,
g,

yea—am. 1...... M...

 

 

 

Price, Five Cents

     

32 Octave Pages.

     
   

 

l A ED EVERY SAT“

1 ueuhuncer, m, 30, 5a,“; om" GnuNorlh Wuodr. 56 The Snow Hunters; or, Wlnur in tho Woodl. By

; lly Oll Comm”, Barry de Forrest.
( 2 lllrflglo 113111, from Boyhood mehood. By Col. Pren— 57 "Berry flowers, the Sailor Boy Magician. By S. W.
» nu ntzm mm. “CB-
f' 8 Kit Carson, Kin “on”... 31 Albert W. Aiken. 58 The Adventurous Life of Cngtnln Jack, the
. 4 Gordon Lillie, t a Boy~ln$erpre¢er ofthe Pawneel. By Border Bo '. By Col. Prentiu Ingrn am.
I may”. H. B. swam 69 I.qu Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mlnel. By Cl.qu
l 5 Bruin Adams, Old Grlxsly’l Boy P"¢~ BY Colonel Mum's.
‘ pram" {um-“hm. 60 The 1 ounz Trnll Hunters; or, New York Boy; in
8 Deadwood luck 3. ‘30,. By Edward L. Wheeler. Grlzzlv Land. By '1‘. C. Harlmnzh.
. 7 wnd 3111, m. Plum Pnnco. By Colonel Prentiu 61 The Tiger Hunters or, The Colour]: Boylin Eh.
I Ingmhnnh phnm. Land. By Joni) E. Bndzer, Jr.
l 8 The Prairie Bunch, I” laugh E. Bndger, Jr. 62 Doctor Carver, the 'Evll Spirit." of the Plains. By
9 Rovlu‘ Joer' Thu Huwry of n Boran Buy." By A. Cu]. Prenliu lnfinhmn.
' H. Poll- 83 Black Horse I“, the Bandlt “'rackar. By Roger
10 Tex-l Jack. “10 Mul'flmg Kink» By Colonel Pronllu Stnrhurk.
l um nm. 64 Young luck Tnlbot; or A Boys Rough Ind Tumble
11 (Hurley Skylark. A storfi ofScllool»dn Scrap“ and FlKllI from New York to filllfornln. By A. W. Alken. ,
Cullen Ca on. By Major . B.Slmldnrll 85 The Boy Pilot; or. 1119 Inland Wrecker. By Col. ..
1 13 Mnrlpom urn-h. By Joleph E. Badger, Jr. Pram-s lnzmlmm. a
z 13 Roving Ben. By Jahn J. Marlhlll. 66 The Desert “avail; or, Stowaway chk Among th.
14 8 ring Ftecl, King of the Bulh. By J. E. Bndzar, Jr. AleE- 3)! c’m'lel ("Pil- 
;. 15 Wine-AWN“). George, the Boy Pioneer. By Edvard 6? T'exm;I Charlie, the Boy Ranger. By Col. Prenllu 1
Wills", "am am.
i 16 The Boy “’lznrtl. llv Barry Ringzold. 68 Little ltlflc; or, The Young Fur Hunters. By Cnptdu
§ 17 Peter Pepperng“, the Greenham from Gotham. By ” “W!” " Adm")-
: NM}. Num A 89 Tge  I'bunllzg 12:11?!“ or A Yankee Boy Among tho
; (“In on the prah-[e‘ and "mu-"l. Hunter, unsmm. y Tlnrcs l orria. _ «
18 Aon the Buflulu Range. By 011 Coomor. 70 Porn the Cowboy or, The Young Mgnh-ll’n Raid. ‘
V 19 The Fortune Hunter; on Roving he 3. Min", lly Mayer llr ll. Smrln ard, Fix-Scout.
5 anboy, Tripper Ind Hunter. By A. H. Post. 71 Bull Robunrt and 111: Bear. By Cnptnln “ Bruin "
v 30 Tn per Tom, tho Wand Imp. By T. C. Harbaugh. Adm“-
l 21 Yo! ow llnir, flu Boy chlorofth innou. By Col. 72 The Ice Elephant. Bv Capt. Frederick Whluaher.
j Prenqu In sham. ‘ 73 The Young Moore-Hunters. By William H.
5" 22 The Snow rail. By 1‘. C. Hurmmgh. Manning.
. g 28 Old Grlzzly Adams, the Ben Truman, By Dr. Funk 74 The Boy Coral-Fishers. By linger Starbuck.
Pawcll, . 75 Revolver Billy, tho Boy Ranger of Texan. By Col.

00d:- and “'abers. _By C-pt. Frederick Whltunr. Prentiss luzmlnm.
fig ‘ANHollluu' Stone: limo-nt- 1n the Career on Sol-uni 76 The Condor Killers. By T. C. Hnrbuugh.

Land of Col. Premins Ingmhnm. By Wm. 1L Eyuur. 7’? Lud Honkeeln, the Young Tiger Fighter. By no”,
26 Red Rlver ROYCI'I. By C. Duuulng Clnrk. Slurbuck.
13’? Plaza and Plan: or. Wild Adventurel 0f“Buckskln 78 Flatbout Fred. By Edward Willem

3......" (Mn . Sum. Hall.) By Col. P. lnmlmm. 79 Boone. the Hunter. By Cnptnln F. Whlu-hr.
.8 The swor Prince. ’1 no Rmnnmlc Life of Col. Mon— 80 Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Cucndul. By
. nary. By Ca L. Frnderlnk Whithkar. Roger'Sturhuck.
29 finnw-Shoe on. By '1‘. C. Hubnllgh. 81 The kit Oar-on Club. By T. C. Plum.

0 ' c r. . B c. 82 mm: Buck u... Boy Gnlde. By Bar -R' 1 . -
3 P5;lmg:clfil:fiy, me Fronch Ben- C armor Y 83 pony Bob: {ha Rune” mac“ By CB. gfigihnm-
81 “mum the GIMP Fire. Br Joloph E. Badger, Jr. 84 Captain 1‘ ly-b leht. Bv Joupll E. Bld‘ef’ Jr,
82 White Bony-5r, the lndlan Medicine Chlol. By Col. 35 Cuntnln RulT-y the Young Explorer- By c. D. Clark.

   

Pram!“ lnmnhlm, 86 “file Dun looks. By Morrln Redwlng.
88 The 0y Crugnd°r. 3v 0,. t. Fred‘ Whmflk". 87 The Mmu’ferle "unborn. By Mn'. H. Grenvllh.
. ramps; or, Llfo Among v. o Glpuleo. By

84 The line ofthc G d 88 The Bo '
Ill ‘CAnuu. B  gimlsta" In ’cnmp .l. M. ll’omuan.

35 qld '1 .u- Knuek ennd m. swam"... m R, gummy, 89 ‘1... Irflllore LUc. By ,0- D. Clark.

36 1 he Dunn firm,“ on". Story 6mm. George 90 R" 1...: [glamour-(erg Lmle geout. By T. C. Hubuugh.
5' C“""’- I y CAM. Fred. Whlnnker. 9| (Drop; In Jolly the V‘ "JIM Rifle- By Roger Shrbuck.

51' lehvllav‘vk George. By Col. Prenllu lngmhnm. "2 Ilur van kit. By A. F. Holt.

3:  #:ihxge- all" Ibgln. By T. c. Hnrhnngh. 93 JIIIllllflrllx J ukc, the Colorado Clrcus Boy. 3, my“;

ear up rn. By a | . mm‘nru go, /

40 Sun-rt 81m. m 1M wm- . 14m ram-ail.I William 94 Sum Spence, "w “mdlwn Bay. By m wmm.
Wlllan. ’ , 95 Mmumw m Sllpcr-ln; or, A You ea Boy to the Ba“...

41 The Butler I Son. 8}; 2.1mm 5, mm. m (mum-u Morris.
3

 

W n Fe “50",. on as. B C. 'unnln . 0 Fl‘ hill“: Fred. By T. C. Harbuuzh.
2: “me "‘1 “ev‘wfl- By 031 had. wmaflrnk' 3': Orfilnc ol‘rlu- Flyaway. B 0- Dunnlur Clark.
4,; The Lost 0y hhnlers. v '1'. C. Huhnugh. 9a Thu Nov V1 *llnlltcn. 11* ru. H. B. Stoddard.
Bronco B y, t o Suldlo Prlncc. y Col. lngrnhmm 99 The “7L“e 'hgern. By ‘apt. Charles Howard.
46 luck. tulle Stow-way. Bv Ch-rlu Mon-II. 100 The Snow-Shoo 'l‘rull. By St. Geo e Rumba".

The colon“ my" "' “m‘mlndl n (m “cm. B Edward .mm
41 By Jogeph E. Btdror, Ir. ' 3° Plant-non.  #le;n€a“lfly Annom" Bysé' Dunning and“
48 Tfingfl'gr Blvngng‘erfiu‘rbx’thW York Boy. In 108 PM Mnlloney’a 2%d\ée}lh;ge!;dor, Silver Ton“.

V ’“ . ,l ,. '.A.1Wfi.!l.
4" The Advenh'lnlm. {Are or Nebrukn 0lllll'lle. 104 i“: fix; ‘lfizz‘rllcmzr. By Roger Starbuck.
B CD" PM”. 3 "mull Th 105 Mlnonee, m. Wood wmh, By Edwin Emenon.

5" I“?! lulr’aal'w 112;“, I. mohmp‘o" moan". 106 The Boy Cruiser-n. By Edward Willem.

TR); Yeti-In" inns-Illiciher. By 0- Dunmn Cl 107 The Border ’Rovers. 13; J. Millml Hrvflt'lmlllih l r
g; The Boy obeetlven. B T. c. Hnrbnugh. ' k' “’3 “uh! “‘9 “’“lmum- Y CW" "W" m "' r v
53 Diane" "N" 3 0" n" 0‘1""! Boy Adrm in the Bendle’l Boy’s Library l- for nle by all New-dullen, ’

l. ‘

 

/ By Chnr a Mark. ,
54 Onlf‘l'ornln Joe, tho Mysurlom Plain-nun. By co). flvl conu pl! copy, or rent by mall on recelpt ofux cent- «ch.
Punti- “Wb'm- ,nmnm AND ADAMS, Publishers,

Ih Fl L . B Ed '
56 '11? T'“”" " °‘ ‘" V ""1 “"““‘ as Wllllam street, New York. I
WW I .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

32 Octave Pages.

109 gillr‘llnuml Jlm, the White Man’s Friend. By Edward
’ .'. E in

110 I’llleky Jnc, the liny Avenger. llv J. M. lloli‘nlnn.

1 11 The “order Gunnch By .lunws L. Bowen.

1193 Lei‘t-Illlmlell [’1' t '

Ill; The Rlver 'I‘n‘lllcn.

114 Alum: on the l’lnlnu. in

115 Sliver llurn, ninl llin Riilu
Stzlrhuck.

116 Exploit! ni’llczckluli filnlhll, tha linekwoodmnnn.
liy lEIllV'rsull lenmn.

117’ Tim Young Multimgern. By (‘. Dunning: I‘lrrrk.

118 “Ill Trnnn; vr, Lin. lluy llivuls. fly Hurry R‘luunold.

1|” Cellttl‘ shot. tllu VViIih- ('rnw. B\' 'l'. (X llilrlllliiKll.

120 A Hot. Trul]; nr, Clmk Cleverly Among the 'l‘nrlnls.
ny Chnrlr-a Nimris.

121 Hunter l’urll "on. By lion" Flurhnuk.

122 The l‘lnqulmuux‘ Qlu-c My (1. thlo Browne.

123 Thu, llm Buy Acrnbili. liv - . i

12-1 ( neon Kellie. llu- Bur.

125 'l mu ’l‘uiror, the “my 1".» re. Bv ‘

12‘} “Ink Cunt, illu [Milli-Slim. Iiy Jug. E. linllgl-r,Jl‘.
Till, Door Hunter-u. liy John J. Mnrkimll.

125 “VHF-Cup; ur, 'l‘h- Night-llth of the FireJ.xmds.
iiv my». ( llus. llvwnrll.

120 Saint-noun or, 'lhc Mountain Heroine. ByEllwnnl

'i nit.

130 Keenan, (in on 0' the Plnlnn. By Perry 8. St. John.

181 Wismh, the Child Spy. By Gum'gclill‘uiun.

182 The Island 'l‘rupper. By ('hnrlrs Howard.

133 'l‘llb quoil. Specter. ll)‘ l‘hiwnnl \Villell.

134 Wild hut. Hie Trooper. n_\- Wm. R. Ruin-r.

135', The Silver Bugle. By Hunt. (‘0'. lluzvllun.

13" The .I’rnirlc T y (7. Dunning (,‘inrk.

187 The A ‘

1394 Long .Cmmnmk.

139 Colonel [fro keti, ll ~ L. E. Lnsnlle.

‘40 “id 1'11: l l\|nnl)l.'liu r. ii) .ewm W. Carson.

Ill The (“I llnnt’cr. llyllnrry [lump].

1 l2 Black l’nntlwr. tllu ilulHiloulL fly .1. F: Bmlger.

143 (tun-non timiluide. H)- him. .l. n. Rum..th

141 Kent. ll!» Runner. 'Eulwnni ‘ . .

14r- lull Itubhlm, llnMur. My leriwmd wmun.

Ill} The lluliilirced lth‘ul. ll‘; J05. E. Budger, .lr.

Ill? The Mat-kwl A \‘cnkvr. By ('nl. Prentiss lnumlxmn.

143 Nut. .1... impw um] 1mm" Fighter. By Paul J.

l’rencull. .

149 The Elk Demon; or, The Uinni. Brnrlhern. By T.
‘ Hnrlnulgn.

150 The Boy Mllllllllfl-‘l er; nr. Euulnlle, the
Ill-,nlltil'ul Amnzhn. lly Frr‘ll i' “'llilmllcr.

15l Frank Yntcn, lhr Yuunlz l‘rnivper; or, Mountain
mun. winning. ny 1mm. r1. limiunr, Jr.

15% “’lld lhn’en. ihn Swim. liv 0|) 1 minus.

158 Lynx-(Yup; or, ll'nllr 'l‘rnhpura‘ Anlung Hm Sioux.
I'unl iiihlh‘.

154 The (‘Imlnplnn Tcxnn Rider; or, Red Bunuln,
and tho ill-ntnl llnnirr. By Hurry St. (lemma.

155 Dunk lllck‘u Damn. Bann. E. Hunger, Jr.

156 Fran ' Bell, um lim‘ Spy. ")1 on Clmnm.

Iii? Nk-k Doyle, Um Gold llunm. ny r. ll. Myrrs.

158 Kldnnpved Dick; or, The Film of the Fin: Fly. By
‘. Slflllll'y ileum-nun.

159 flurn’ll Long ’l‘rnll; or, TheTwin Scouts. By W. J.

mni run.

100 Hunk 'l‘rlplct‘l‘ "m". By llnrryilnznrd.

“II The Mall Sklp u-r. By R. slannn-k.

168 The Truppvr ’Ing. By ii inx Mirtinc.

163 h'lnmn Kontnm llnni-‘r. I Ennrraon Rodimrn.

Ill-l The Roy Uhle : or, Fruth lull’n Cunlpnct. By Oil

1

n) my" Badger. Jr.
iiy Clint. J. l“. (‘. Adan
EilWIITIl “'illull.
Fh'unlullill. By Roger

1;
By w

ny

Cum M1.
85 The 'l'ruder TTIIHOI‘. Br J. Finnle Hunderlun.
06 "hi Jllpr'l (‘lc-w. By .\Iru. (lrnn 'nnnen
(57 “The Yonlnr 'l'rnllcr. W. J. lluxnilcon.
ill The lint-«(er Hny. By {\Inj. Lewis W. Carson.
9 Lunk Lute, the Old Colin-Ado Hunter. By E. W.

Archur.
0 The “'Iilic \Voll’. By Edward Willem.
l The Hwnnlp (rinhlu. liy W. N. Nit'Ncil.
2 'I‘he Yunkeu l’c-(ldlor. By C. Dunning Clark.
3 Tim Haunt and Ills Ynum; Clnun. By “'nrrcn

St. 11 hn.
74 llluéknlulth 'l‘om'u Min-k. By Gun. 1). Giiimt.‘
75 The Buckaklu Rider. lly Guy Gruenwuud.

pd— H—l‘d n...-‘
N-‘l'vl’! 6-2.

 

Price, Five Gents

1 qnnltcr‘n Sur rise. 8 ' Mrs. H.

l Full r Felluw Snnllt: By J. {flunk-y ne‘lilrr'lillim‘
i Qld Kit and Ill]: Comrades. 11" Jim. B. islnlgcr .J
l 'L nclc Hrlll’n lllngulne. By llnrry annni. ’ r'
1 fine )l'urlicll Miner. 15y Lieul. (‘nL Planning

1 The n lid lluntress. By Capt. Bruin Adnnu '

l 2 The Dwnrflicony. By hlnro 0. Rnllc. '

l S .Ipb [Penn’n Turtles. By ingoldahy North,

:2? li“i€-h n 
ir"e y ‘lcnl nrd. B‘E(l\- -r
“*6 Frunk, the Fur or By J. Sunder) llcnlilz’lsfn hung.
in? Illunu, the Fair Mountninecr. x 30"]... F. Vi'lnu 1..
188 Jul-k’n Snare. Hy ,Mn, Ann E. l’m'ter “ m

 rflulm, In... 5.1.1.4.? out. Bv w. .1. ii,....;'|.,,,.
‘ le Fun In: ‘rno cr'. m m. - ' .
191 The Buy Brave. B? an. 51.. n..."..',§f" "'De‘m"
 iKIume  Q'Ii‘gxani‘ By Edward Wine”.
nrr n ' c n . -
EM“? 01'! Uhuu. By Vi m, a,
191 Creeper Cutn, (he
_ I‘rwhrlck Dewci .
15h: The Jinn vcr Detective.
194) (:ypny .\ ug,
Clllrk.
197 The Branded Unntnin. By W. J. Hmnlllon.
198 011! (‘ronxflrv'n (-‘rluln. Br Pnyt. (‘hhrlos Howard.
190 70hr" lurk. lin- Tnxnn. W. J. linmilion.
200 The Vin-wine: Hunter. _ Gmruc w. Ruhlmon.
20! The Yankee (‘m liven. l, ildwuni “‘lilcu.
202 ’l‘lwidv‘s Lon: 'l‘rnll. “y P nm S. Elhn.
203 (Md “nut. he "(w-lull. By Evlwnnl W. Arrhrr.
20! Cnnna-lmml‘l "on! Shut. lh' Jun. E. Budwr. .‘r.
205 The Dntt-hmuu’n Ill-cull. fly CanChnlJlnwnnl.
2...: rm. u..,.,~,.,y1....i.-. By W. .1. llunllilon.
20? anlo-l’yrd Tim. ily C. Dunning ('lark,
20R Tho \‘lllflzc snarl. ll)‘ James l. lit-“en.
209 Rut-l: "Ilrl’n l’lnck. By Edwnni “'illei.
2l0 The ’l‘oll-Tull- Bullet. By J. Muller Plunder-on.
2“ The Boy Surveyor. liy W. .l Hnnriium.
‘2 Ynnlu‘o Drover Swipe-t. l3" Sw‘lin Robins.
3 .‘Hh‘cr (‘lty Tum. By mnvfl L. lrmun.
Nlbk, ille Dom-live. Hy Edwin Ellll‘flfln.
“nu-mm: Rider Roy. By Allwrl \\'. Aiken.
Tholhlkoul "Hull-mun. By Muj. Mux )ixlrline.
7 “who J... , n... Ron-r. B‘ h. n. nelknnp, M. D.
s New York Ned In Cnllfornlu. By W. .l.
ilulnllinn.
9 Kentucky Kate's Shot. By Erlwnnl Willow.
‘20 ’FrlM-o Frunk’n Riv-ll. ll PM] J. Prawn.
22l Inn-(or Bug, Detective. By wig Jnr Swill.
222 sh- smm. Snuro. By Lnnh Legrlmtl, M. D.
223 0].] \‘nngy‘g \Yurd. By Limit. Cal. Hlueilinc.
224 Rm “(- nte. tlw Nnho’b. By Scott R. Slwrwnml.
22?) lelm- hka Bill: or, Tho New York Sporlunien’n
.luw. lh‘ “K J. lllunilinn.
226 The Mal-lied Mimlnv. l1y3lnrnO.Rnii'c.
227 "urnoy’u Bold Brush. By Jmnen L. Bowen.
223 The Dentin-«ml anrtn. Ry l-lrnt. S. G. Lansing.
229 "mu M-hmldt, Jim: nr, The Dilullificd Ynnhcn. By
\V. J. llnmiltnn.
2130 Luna Finr‘! Surr‘ Fir-‘1 l’iy Hun-v linuni.
21%| Mark .Vlnrznn‘n .‘l'n L. )' (‘an Churlea linwnrd.
282 Billy lirnom'n First. (.1 nine. By H. Minor
K 1| n, lisrl.
38% Th: Girl Rifle-Shot. liy W. J. l-lnmillon.
23-! Old Kyle‘n Lung Trump. Byllenry J. Thnmnl.
Rciuly October 03. I,
235 Old Bill Syou’n Pledge. By Edwnrd “'illeit.
newly October 1::.

286 The 0n-thc-“’|nz Detective.
llclniy Oclober ‘10.

28’? The Dnlnhln'n Young Skipper.
Sim-buck. Really Oclo‘ver ‘27.
238 Jonlu‘u Boy I’m-d». By S. G. Lnnling.
.chliy Novcnl er 3.

Bendie’n Boy’n Library In (Or min. by nii Nevndenlen,

fivu mm per uhpy, or mull. by mail ml icceipt nl'pix cent: mull.
BEADLE AN I) ADAMS, I’ubllnhern,
98 Willlmn Street, New York.

By J. R. Worcester.

Shadow Swnnp Trailer. By

By llnrr H d.
the Mouniuln Vl’iicll. 3lilyRa‘rlhnninz

.

v!

I
1
l
l

1
l
1

W10 NQNNMNIN

By Ed. S. Ellis.

By Roger