Copyrighted, 1887, by BIADIJ AM) ADAMS. Enmrud m the Post Omen a: New York, . Class Mail Mailer. July 16, 1887.

 

. ' a d * -.
VOLXIV. 353. P“b1“h;0,;’:;}m§§°;gis 3:: “n” rde'léé‘nu. No.170.

 

 

 

TENN]! COULD NOT REPRESS A CRY OF‘ TERROR AND DISMAY. WAS IT A WILD ANIMAL OR A
MADMAN THAT HAD KER. IN HIS POWER?

 

The White Wolf.

 

The White Wolf;
FOLLOWINOa A TRAIL.

BY EDWARD WILLETT,

AUTHOR or “ BILL ROBBINS, HUNTER,” “ SILVER-
SPUE,” “ ALONE ON THE PLAINS,” “ THE
nor cavisaas,” are, ETC.

CHAPTER I.
A STRANGER IN REDWOOD.

ON a bright June morning a solitary stranger
rode into Redwood.

Redwood, although the Texans called it a
town, was not so much as a village, hardly even
a hamlet. It was composed of a store, a black-
smit.1’s shop, a saddler’s shop, a “grocery,”
where liquor was sold, one rather nice frame
house, and about half a dozen shanties. Red-
. wood was chiefly devoted to loafing, drinking,
gambling, horse-racing, cock-fighting, and free
white fl bting. To a person who could not be
interesteg by such amusements. Redwood was
a very uninteresting place. _

The stranger who rode into town that bright
June morning, was not one of the loafers of
Redwood, nor a resident of the adjoining coun—
try. His appearance showed thatvhe belonged
to another class, and that he had come from
another clime.

He was a man of twenty-four or five, a little
, above the medium hight, well made and sinewy,

with a handsome and good face—a face full of

determination, courage and courtesy—the face
of’ a. gentleman. He had blue eyes and light
hair and a slender mustache and a oatee
adorned his upper lip and his chin. e was
neatly dressed in a serviceable suit of dark and
stout cloth, and wore upon his head a common
black felt hat, sli htly drawn down over his
brows. He carri a rifle at his saddle-bow and
a at his belt.
here was Redwood, dusty, dirty, uninviting,
unpleasant. In the middle of the road was a
game of marbles, in which nearly a dozen men
and boys were engaged, A dozon or so more
. were variousl gonped in front of the long and
low store an t edingy grocery, watching the
gum and talking among themselves. A few

y negroes, ennui themselves in spots, with
a snperabundance of ogs. finish the scene.

Rough and wild-looking were those Redwood—
ites, for the most part, and their talk was as
rough as their appearance. It was chiefly horse
talk, ust at that time, and several men were
consi erably excited about it: but all occupation
and conversation were suspended when the
stranger came down the road, looking like some-

‘ thing newer. fresher, fairer and finer than the
specimens of' male humansthat were usually
seen in that region. '

It was the stranger’s horse, rather than his
personal appearance, that '1 ttrscted the admiring
attention of the lookers-on at Redwood. He
rode as it he had been born to the saddle, adark-
brown mare, clean-limbed, bright-eyed, and
perfectly formed, whose gait and manner spoke
of big); spirit and splendid action. All her

 

points were carefully noted and sagaciouslyr
commented upon, as she slowly trotted into

wn. .

“There’s a horse that will heat the gray
innstungl” said a good-looking but dark-featured
young man, who was dressed with more pre-
tension to neatness and style than the others ex-
hibited.

“ There’s the horse that will beat the gray
mustang! I have been waiting for that mare,
and she has come just when I wanted her.”

“You’re talkin’ wild, Lee Crozier,” replied
a heavily»built, red-faced man. “ Can’t you
see that that mar’ has got too much daylight
under her? Her long legs will cover a good deal
of ground, I allow; but she hnin’t got the hold-
out to run a mile ag’inst my gray.”

“ Business is business, Joe J uypei‘t, and a bet
is a bet. I bet you that I would have a horse
here to-day, which would beat your gray mus-
tang, and I meant to keep my Word or lose the
money. When Fleetl‘oot gave out, I thought I
was stumped, and was almost ready to settle;
but that mare has come along, just in time, and
I mean to run her against the gray and beat
him. You can have a chance, if you like, to
make another fifty on the race.”

“ ‘Twould be jest like robbing you, Lee, and I
don’t want to do that. The mar’ won’t stand no
show with my gray.”

“ Here is the money. You can cover it or
not, just as you please.”

“ I’ll cover it, of course. I ain’t apt to let
sech a chance slip. Simon, will you hold the
stakes?”

The money was put in the hands of the
grocery—keeper, and the attention of all was
again concmtrated u onthe mare, whOSe rider
had halted in front 0 the store, which he enter-
ed as if hehad business there.

“Let us go and look at the‘ mare, and see
what condition she is‘in,” said Crozier. “ If she
needs rest or feed, she must have it. We’ve got
the day before us, and I am not obliged to run

'her until I get ready. ”

d “ 1311 right,” replied J aypert. “ Any time to-
a .
’lxhe two principals stepped to where the mare
was hitched, in front of the store. Crozier re-
moved her saddle and blanket, and the others
examined her teeth, felt of her muscles, and
praised or depreciated her points as they saw fit.

She. ain’t a day over SIX years old, if she‘s
that,” remarked one of Crozier’s friends. “ She ’
has been well treated. too, and I believe that she
is sound in wind and limb.”

“She will do,” replied Crozier. “The gray
mustang will meet his match this time.”

“Young or old,” said Jnvpcrt, “she ain’t no ‘
match for the gray, and I don’t claim that he is
under nine.” ,

As yet there had been no consultation with the
owner of the mere. nor had any one suggest-Ml
the propriety of asking him whether he would
allow her to be run in a race. Either they took
his consent as a matter of course, or considered
it a point of such small consequence that it was
not worth inquiring about.

But he soon got an inkling of what was going
on. From the interior of the store he could see
that the saddle had been removed from his

 

The White Wolf.

v

 

mare, and that a crowd was standing about her,
examining‘ her and talking about her.

He wal ed to the door, to learn what these
proceedings meant.

The mare whinnied when she saw him, and
the crowd fell back a little at his approach—all
Wt Crozier, who stood at the horse’s head, with
h 5 hand on the bridle.

The stranger took in the situation at a glance,
and spoke courteously, but firmly without ad-
dressing himself to any particular person in the
crowd.

“I am much obliged to you, gentlemen, for
taking the saddle and blanket off of my mare;
but I could have attended to that matter my—
self, if I had supposed that it needed attend-
ing to. ”

‘No harm is done, I hope,” said Crozier.
“The mare is all right. Haven’t been riding
her hard latel ; have you?"

“No. She had a long fourney, but has
taken it easy, and is not at al worsted. Why
do you ask?”

“ I wanted to know whether she is in condition
to run a mile for money.”

“Her condition is good enough, I suppose;
but I have no idea of running her.”

“I have, though. My money is up on her,
and I have entered her to run amile, to-day,
against a ray mustanlg that belongs to this gen—
tlemen’égpointing at aypert.

"Ind ! I should have supposed that you
would have thought proper to ask my consent,
before making any such bet or bargain. As you
have not seen fit to do so, I shall put my veto on
the roceeding."- .

“ hope, stranger that you are not going to
spoil sport ” sai drozier, changing his tone a
little. “ That gray mustang of Joe Jaypert’s
has won every race in these parts. I bet that
I would produce a horse here today which
would beat him. I was relying on a mare of
mine; but she has unfortunately been founder—
ed, and I had nearly given the thing up, when
I caught sight of this mare of yours. I am sure
that she can beat the mustang, and it would
please you, I hope, to see her win the race.”

The‘ stranger's temper was somewhat molli-
fled by this explanation but not to the extent of
permittin his horse to be used in the manner
mention .

“ It you had come at me in a dilferent way,”
he said, “ perhaps I might have been disposed
to accommodageedyou; but the style in which you
have attemp to take possession of my
'progerty don’t suit me. I have nothing to do
wit your races, and don’t mean to be forced
into them. I own this mare, and expect to con-
trol her as long as she is my property."

The idea of abandoning the race Was one
which the people of Redwood could not possibly
entertain. A general murmur of disapprobation
followed the remarks of the stranger.

Lee Crozier flushed with anger.
opinion that his explanation ought to be con—
sidered suficient, and that the stranger was
unwarrantably willing to “spoil sport.”

“ As you own the mare and expect to control
her,” he said; “ what do you expect to do with
her 'ust new?

“ intend to replace the blanket and saddle

M

It was his .

 

that have been removed from her, and to mount
her and go about my business.” ‘

“ I don’t like to be rough on a stranger," said
Crozier, speaking quite deliberately; “but you
have had a fair chance to do the liberal thing,
and you have no right to be pig-headed about it.
I am obliged to inform you that you won’t be
allowed to do what you propose to do. The
race has got to be run, and we must have the
mare. If any damage should be done to her, I
am responsible for it.”

The strangir looked around upon the crowd ‘ L

but saw no expression favorable to himself.

“ Do you call this treating a stranger civill “i”
he asked. “Where I came from a man
the right to do as he pleases with his own
property. I would like. to know whether I am
to have fair play in this town, whether a
stranger has any rights which you are willing
to res. ct.”

“Its just as Lee Crozier sa s,” remarked
J aypert. “ The race is bound to run, and we
must have the mare.” , ‘

“Very Well. I am only one man, and there
are many of you against me; butI will defend
my right to my property while I live.
rather die than be run over in thiss le. 1
know there isn’t the least chance for me, it you
all pile on me; but it will be sure death to the
first man who lays his hand on that mare to take
her away from here. ”

38‘ ,’

would 4 ’ 3

The stranger raised his rifle, and pistols and a. 
other weapons were visible among the crowd. W 4-,

The stranger stood with his back to the store, so
that he could not be reached by

movement. If he should prove obe quicken

the trigger, he would be able to execute hid”

threat, although he mi ht be riddled with
bullets the next instant.

airear or flank -» .41}

is determination was r "

a parent, the purpose of the crowd was equally I 7

ain, and there was a fair prospect for a bri

Rant and sanguinaryreiiégggelment, flough it‘ ‘ 
K one-s .

would necessarily he
The situation was suddenly changed, by the

appearance upon the scene of an unexpected 5

party. ___
CHAPTER II.
THE RACE.

TEE party who unexpectedly
female party—in fact nothing

healthy complexion. She was riding a beauti~
fu] spotted mustang. and came (lashing recklessly
among the crowd, scytterin
and left, and rei , / up her orse at the side of .
the stranger’s bro ii mare.

Surprise and vexation were in the expression“

of Lee Crozier‘s countenance as he looked up at, V

her. The stranger’s gaze was one. of audit:
gulsed admiratiori.» -

“ Good—morning
Crozier. “ Don’t you think that you might get
into trouble, if you should run overafewpf.
these free and independent citizens?” . . ’

“ What is this fuss about?” she asked, Without :
goticfiig his question. “What is .thoe’ matter

ere ' . ‘ .,

“ Nothing of any consequence. Nothing that

A

them to the right V

\

alppeared wasa Q r
ess attractive, "
than a handsome girl of twenty, or thereabonth
with dark hair and brown eyes. and afresh,

to you, Cousin Kate,’l said 

 

 

, name'for it. 'She is just heavenly!

.-

d The White Wolf.

 

concerns you, at least. Just ride along, my
d 111', and don’t bother us.”

“ I’ll not do it," she replied, directing her
words to Crozier, but her glances to the stranger.
“ I want. to know what this means. It looks as
if you have all joined against one man, and that
man astranger. There‘s nothing like fair—play.
What has he done?”

“ Nothing at all, my dear cousin. It is what
he won’t do that raises the difficulty. He
chooses to be as obstinate as a mule, and we
mean to make him listen to reason.”

“ Own up, Lee, and tell me how you are try-
ing to impose upon him. Pistols and knives are

wary convincing: but I don’t consider them the

right kind of reason.”

“ There’s no imposition about it, Kate; butI
suppose we can‘t get rid of you unlessI explain
the whole matter. You know that I had agreed
to find a horse to run against J nypert’s gray
mustang to-day, or pay forfeit. You know that
I had expected to run Fleetfoot, and she is
foundered. We were talking the matter over,
when the stranger came riding into town on this
mare.
horse I wanted, and entered her and bet on her.
Then the stranger comes ,out, while we were ex-
amining the mare, and says that we sha’n’t run
her on any terms, just because we had made the
thing up before we asked his consent. I tried to
reason with him; but he stuck to what he said,

l-aud vowed that he would fight for the mare.

Here she is, Kate Isn’tshe a beauty?”

“ A beauty !” exclaimed Kate. “ That’s no
I do believe
she can beat the gra , and would give any thing
to see her do it. hat wretched mustang beat
my Spot, and I lost twenty dollars on the race,

I and haven’t had money enough to buy a decent
,dress.

He has been beating every thing in the
country, and 1 do think that the conceit ought
to be taken out of him somehow.”

She turned to the stranger, with a gesture
and an expression of piteous cntreaty.

“Oh, sir, do please let her run! I would be so
glad to see her beat that gray, and she is such a
beauty, and I do believe she can do it. I can’t

' express what a favor it will be to me, if you will

let her run." _ V _

‘ The stranger grounded his rifle. raised his hat,
and bowed gracefully to the fair creature on the
spotted horse. _ _

“ As the lady wishes it,” he said, “ I Will glad-
ly permit my mare to run, and will see to it that
she does her duty in the race.”

This settlement of the difficulty W 5 received
With demonstrations of approval fl‘Oll; the crowd
and with the sweetest of smiles frml ,the lady.

Lee Crozier’s dark face grew darker, and he
looked as if he disapproved of the lady’s gracious
mmner toward the stranger, and of the stran-
ger’s open admiration of the Indy. But his
scowl soon faded away, and be extended his
hand to the stranger.

“Ihope you Will have no hard feelings to-'

ward me, sir. or toward any of the rest, of us,”
he said. “ We have not meant to treat you un-
civilly. Perhaps you and I look at this sort of
thing indifferent lights.”

“ Pei-ha s/ we do. I bear you no ill-will, as

' the diflicu ty is at an end, and we will let it pass."

\

I spotted the more at once, as the very ‘

 

our mare over to Col-
give her a feed and a

“ Hadu‘t I better take
onel Cundifi’s stable, an
rubbing-down?”

“ I don‘t think she needs it.”

“ She ought to be in first-class condition to
run against the gray mustang. He is no slouch,
I assure on.”

“ Can see him?"

“ I suppose so.
Mr. Jaypert?”

The red-faced man did as he was requested to
do, and the stranger was soon ins acting the
gray mustang. fi‘hat much-talk -of animal
was a large, big-boned horse, gaunt and clumsy
in appearance, but with eyes that were full of
slumbcring fire. His sinews and chest told of
great strength and endurance, such as might
easily decide a long race, if properly brought
out and used.

The stranger examined him thoroughly, with
the air of a man who understands the points of
a horse.

“ How long is the course?” he asked Crozier.

“ A mile.”

" I don’t think you need trouble yourself
about my mare. The horse is no slouch, as you
say, but I believe she will run away from him.”

“ Very well. You ought to know best. I
will send for my black boy to ride her. You
will find him a good band.”

“ Never mind that. I will ride her myself.”

“ That will be just throwing away the chances.
Jaypert will have a little nigger to ride the

Will you bring him down,

gray, and the more can’t afford to carry your'

weight.”

“ Please don’t throw away any chances!”
pleaded the' lady. “I do so want to see the
mare win the race.”

“ As the more is mine,” persisted the stranger,
“ I must use her to suit myself, and I am not in
the habit of throwing away chances. Do you
think, Mr. Crozier, that she stands a chance to
lose?”

“ I am afraid she does,’if she is to carry your
wei ht.”

“ would like to know what the owner of the
gray thinks about it.”

“I believe that my horse will win the race
easy,” said Jaypert.
mare, I am sure of it.
better than that.”

“ I will bet you five hundred dollars that my
mare wins this race.”

“ If I had that much money with me, stranger,
I would jump at the olfer."

“ That is just the amount I have, and I want
to bet it all or none.
back you I suppose.”

The proprietor of the Redwood store said
'that he was willing to guarantee Joe Jaypert to
the amount of five hundred dollars, and the
stranger ut a roll of bills in the merchant’s
hands. e then announced that he was ready
for the race.

The course was on the open prairie: but it was
level, and the ground was in good condition.
The horses were to run as they pleased, from
the starting-place to a solitary tree in the dis-
tance; to turnthe tree, and to come back as
thev pleased. - - '

The judges were selected, the starting-place

I don't want any thing

i

“If you are to ride the

You can find some one to'

 

  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
    

mmnb-vm.»wo.~.éw . N <

     

(i

 

- Crozier, at the last.

The White Wolf. 5

.—

v

 

was oiuied out, and the riders got into their
sadd es the stranger mounting his mare, and an
active little ne ro boy climbing on top of the
gray mustang, is black and diminutive figure
presenting a strange contrast to the stame form
of the white rider.

“Be careful what you are about,” whispere l
“The further that gray
goes, the faster he gets.”

The stranger nodded, and the word was
given.

Both horses had an excellent send off, the
gray leadlng at a swin ing pace, and the more
following with long an graceful strides. Her
motion was so light and easy, that her hoofs
hardly seemed to touch the ground. The horse
kept the lead, however, and his pace grew
swifter as he warmed up to his work, while
the mare did not seem to gain u on him an inch.

In this manner the first hal -mile was run,
Lee Crozier’s face wearing a look of anxiety,

and the few partisans of the mare appearing,

to be much disappointed at her performance.

At the tree, the horse stumbled, in making a
short turn, but quickly recovered himself, and
pressed on toward the starting—point with
greater speed than ever. The mare swept
around the tree in an easier but wider circle,
and started on the homestretoh at a consider—
able distance behind her competitor.

As Crozier had predicted, the speed of the
gray increased continually, and the mare made
but little effort to narrow the distance between
them, until about half the homestretch had
been passed over. Then the stranger could be
seen to lift his bridle-rein and to lean slightly
forward in his saddle.

Suddenly the mare “lit out,” like an arrow
shot from a bow, and a wild yell arose from the
spectators as she seemed fairly to fly over the
course, until she was nearly at his side. In an—
other instant she had passed him, and was a
head and neck beyond him on her way to the
goal. In vain the small African lashed the gray
with his riding-whip, and yelled as if he woulzl
split his lungs; the mare was well ahead. and
going at a glee which Redwood had never yet
witnessed. er rider did not attempt to hold
her in or urge her on, but sat there like a statue,
as she dashed across the starting line, fully three
len tbs ahead of the gray mustang.

hen she slacked her speed, and the stranger
centered her up to the store, where he dis-
mounted, removed his saddle and blanket, and
rubbed her down with a whisp of straw which
he took from a crockery crate. All the sped
tators had followed him, without stopping to
notice the condition of the gray, and among the
first came the lady.

“ What do you call. your mare, sir?” she
asked. -
“ Her name is Flora,” replied the stranger.

“That is a £reti% name; but I 'think you
ought to call er hirlwind, or Spirit of the
Wind, or Lightning, or somethin that would
express her swifmess. Why, she sa wonder!
I never saw anything like her. 0h, she is such
a. dear beauty!”

. “ Would ou sell her?" inquired Crozier.
“ I won] as soon sell myself,” was the stran-

ger’s reply

 

“ Do you expect to remain here?" asked the
lady.

“ A few days, perhaps. '1 have some business ,

to transact—some inquiries to make in the
neighborhood-aud I don’t know how much
time it may take.’7

“ You must come out to my uncle’s house
—Captain Crozier’s. He will be glad to see you,
I know. There is no place to stop ut, here in
Redwood, and I am so anxious to ride that
mare!
with you, won’t you, now?”

She looked at her cousin as she spoke; but he
was not listening to her. He was otherwise en-
gaged.

 

CHAPTER III.
L A s T C H A N C E.
11‘ was an unusual occurrence that had en-
gaged the attention of Lee Crozier—the arrival
of an Indian, an unmistakable redqnan, arrayed
in blankets and leggins and moccasins, with
{iothing on his head but his long straight black
mn‘.
which was expressive of nothing at all unless of

that entire absence of expression which is called , ‘

stolidity or impossibility.

This aborigine had dismounted from a rugged
little pony, and he walked through the crowd,
without noticing the stares that were directed
at him, right up to Lee Crozicr. whom he ,
touched upon the shoulder, and whispered some-
thin
undegrstood by the others.

Crozier seemed to be perplexed and troubled. 

He frowned as he looked at his cousin and the

stranger, and muttered something that caused, 
the Indian to shake his head. Then he stepggl 
x a .4

to his cousin, and whispered in her ear.
made no reply, and he turned away, mounted

the horse, and joined the Indian on his pony, V ‘

and they rode away together.

The lady also appeared to be perplexed antid-

uneasy. She looked anxiously after her cousin

for-a few moments, and then turned toward the 

stranger, who had just received from the Red—2

Lee, you Wlll bring this gentleman out ,

There was no paint upon his brown face “ '

a

to him, in words which would not be” '

 

wood merchant the roll of hillswhich he had j i

handed him, and was listening to his statement

that he would collect ‘the amount ofJoe‘ 

Jay ert’s bet, and pay it over in a few days.
“ . v cousin has been called away,” she said,

“and' has left to me the duty and pgeasure elf 
you w: !. >

inviting you to his father‘s house.
accept the invitation, 1 will show you the way,
and that ought to be something; of anpinducesv
ment.”

“ The greatest inducement
replied the youn man, thong he could not help
thinking that rozier, if he really intended to

give the invitation, might have spoken of itK, 7 '
“ I gladly" accept the invite-' f ,

before he started. ,
tion, and hope that you and your relatives will
not be glad to get rid of me when you have be-‘
come acquainted with me.”

“ We are willing
are ready sir, we Wlll start now.”
“ Permit me to assist you,” he said, as shewas
about to mount her horse. . ~  .
“ I don’t need any assistance. I can pla a
lone”hand at getting on horseback, it nothhig I
e se. i .  '

 

 

ssible,” gallantly i »

to take that risk. If yon‘ ; .3:

 

   

   

6 The White Wolf.

 

With two white hands she seized the bow and
book of her saddle, made a spring, and vaulted
into her seat.

“ There, sir! What do you think of that?
You couldn’t ,do it, riding as you do. Whoa,
Spot! You know that I havn I: got my foot in
the stirrup yet.” ,

The stranger quickly mounted, and took his
place at her side, gazing at her with an amused
smile; but there was something more than

Q'amusement in the look with which he regarded

. this country will not

' .low it, wherever it may lead me.

 
 
 

I _ {lightened manner. “

her.

Neither spoke until they had got away from
Redwood, out of ear-shot of the spectators of the
horse-race, who were looking after them as they
rode away. Then the lady took the word.

V “ My name is Kate Crozier. What is yours?”
“My name? It is Last Chance.”
. “ Last Chance! Well, that is funny. But I
didn’t ask your nickname, sir,”—this with some
dignity.

‘ It is not a nickname, Miss Crozier, I assure
you, but my real name. I came of a large fam-
ly of Chances. There are many brothers and
sisters of us, and my father, hoping that I would
be the end of the tribe, gave me the name of
Last. Thus it is that I am named Last Chance.”

“ That is so queer! I am afraid you can never
go to Congress under that name. ut you came
very near going out of the world this morning.
I do believe that they would have made an end

. ' of you, if the affair hadn’t turned out as it did.
’ Some of those Redwood fellows are just mean

and cowardly enough to do that.”
“Your cousin is not one of that style, I

hope."
, ‘ No; I don‘t think that Lee is mean or
cowardly; but he is passionate and revengeful.
I am afraid of him, sometimes, myself.”
The young man’s face brightened. He had
robably reached the conclusion that Kate
Brazier was not in love with her cousin, what-

I ' ever her cousin’s feelings might be toward her,

and this reflection seemed to give him pleasure.
‘“ Perhaps I was too quick to take offense,” he

said. “ I suppose there would have been some-

thing of a fight, if you hadn’t come in time to

i .1 regent/it, and it is possible that I owe you my

“.I don’t know you do, and perhaps some

i of the others are me their lives, too. But I don’t

like to think about it, and would rather speak of
something else. I hoge that your business in
ring you into any more

sudh scrapes.”
“ I hope it won’t; but I will be likely to fol-
I will have to
looklafter some lands, and perhatEs/I may invest
in cattle. Do you know any ing of a man.
somewhere in these parts, named Wiley

, Simmes?”

The eflect of this fixation upon Kate Crozier
was astonishing. he suddenly turned pale,
and then the blood rushed to her face in a tor-
rent. At first she lanced at her companion,
with a half-scared, wildered look, and then
turned her face away, as if to hide it from his

gaze. ,,

r “Wiley Simmes?” she re ated in a dazed
_ es—I have heard
him. There is such a man somewhere in these

 

arts. Why do you ask me about Wiley
immes‘i” '

“ I have heard that a man of that name is an
extensive cattle—dealer, or herder. or one who
has control of cattle, and it is likely that my
business may bring me in connection with him.
I thought tha; you might have heard of him,
and that you might be able to tell me whether
he lives anywhere hereabout."

“ Yes—I have heard of him.” said she again,
dwelling on each word, as if she felt it necessary
to be careful what she said. “ I have heard of
him, and who hasn’t? I ho that your business
may not bring you in co lision or connection
with him.” I

“ Why so? Is he one of the dangerous charac—
ters?”

“ I am afraid he is. one of the most danger-
ous. But I ought not to say any thing about
him, I suppose, as I do not really know any
thing of my own knowledge. He does not as-
sociate with other white men. Indeed, I believe
that there is no love lost between him and other
Texans. l have heard him spoken of as an out—
law, as one whose dealings in cattle consist in
taking ossession of cattle that don’t belong to
him. ut this is only hearsa . He may be a
very good man. I hope he is, knowsl”

The young man looked at his companion as if
he would like to read her heart and search out her
secrets. He could not account for her, emotion
at the mention of the name of Wiley Simmes,
for the cautious and contradictory manner
in which she spoke of him, for her evident hor-
ror of the reputed outlaw. and her fervent hope
that he was not as bad as he was supposed tobe.
There was more in her demeanor and her words
than was apparent to the eye and the ear, and
he wished that he might fathom the mystery.

“ If Mr. Simmes has such a reputation, ’ he
said, “I mu st be careful how I (have dealings
with him. Does be live far from here?”

“I can’t say. Somewhere in the hills, I be-
‘lieve, but I don’t know. I do hope that you
won’t go near him or attempt to flnd'him."

The girl turned 11 on her companion such an
appealing look, that e felt himself a scoundrel
for having provoked her to such a display of
emotion.

“ I was only asking as a matter of curiosity,"
he said. “ As he is such an unpleasant subject,
let us speak of something else.”

They did speak of something else, and spoke
pleasantly and well; at least, each was highly
pleased with the nature and manner of the
other’s speech; and the time passed rapidly un-
til they came in sight of the Crazier mansion.
It was a large, one-storied building, with a
veranda. on two sides, and numerous outbuild-
ings scattered around. It was situated on a
ridge, or swell of the prairie, near the edge of a
belt of heavy timber, of which the site of the
house had once formed a part, as was evidenced
by the shade trees that were left standing, and
the stumps of those that had been cut down. _

The young man was ushered into the mansmn
by Kate Crozier, and was introduced to her
uncle, an elderly gentleman. with the appear-
ance and manner of a well-to-do farmer or
border. To him Kate told the story of the race,
with all its accompaniments, and he was so sur-

‘E‘ awn—17:4

I Air-“winging, ,-.u~_.;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The White Wolf. 7

 

prised and delighted, that he shook the stranger’s
band heartily, and gave him a most cordial wel-
come.

"I wouldn’t have missed hearing this for a
herd of cattle," he said, “ and it is a great honor
and pleasure to inc to be allowed to entertain
that mare and her owner at my house. You
shall both have the best the plantation all’ords,
and you must make yourselves perfectly at
home, and 1 hope. you will let me see what the
mare can do, when she has had her feed and
rest.”

Cordial as Captain Crozlcr’s greeting was,
there were two matters that gave him trouble
and uneasiness, detracting somewhat from his
gratification at receiving his visitor.

The mime 01" his guest—Last Chance—appear-
ed to strike him strangely and unpleasautly,
and he was hardly satisfied with the young
man’s explanation of the manner in which he
accliiired his singular baptismal appellation. Ho
loo ed at Chance closely, again and again, and
evidently regarded {him witha sort of suspi-
cion, which he could not easily shake ofl’.

He was also strangely annoyed if not actual—
ly irritated, when Kate related how and by
whom her cousin had been called away from
Redwood. He spoke to her on the subject in a
whisper, seeming to be not at all relieved by
the answers she gave him, and there was a con-
straint in his manner, as well as a cloud on his
countenance, during the remainder of the day.

With Last Chance, however, the afternoon
passed away very pleasantly, and he was not at
all rejoiced when the day came to an end. He
went with Captain Crozicr to visit the mare,
and told her age and pedigree, and gave a sam-
ple of her action. With Kate he wandered
over the grounds, taking far greater pleasure in
seeing and hearing her, than in anything else he
saw and board.

He soon discovered that Kate was the female

head of the house, Captain Crozier being a’

widower with only one son. The duties of
Kate’s pasitiou did not permit her to bestow all
her time upon the guest, and he was forced to
find solace in the society of the old gentleman,
who struck him as being extremely cautious,
almost to the verge of timidlty, in everything
he did and said. His demeanor, in fact, was so
different from that of most men of his station
and manner of life, that the young man was
persuaded that there must be some mystery con-
nected with the family, and his curiosity natur-
ally prompted him to wonder what it was.

No solution of the mystery, if there was any
mystery, presented itself, and he was finally
shown to the room that he was to occupy for
the night.

It was evidently one of the best rooms in
the house, and was well furnished; but there
was wthing peculiar about it. He examined it
pretty thoroughly, without finding any thing
that specially attracted his attention, with the
exception of an old family Bible, which he
casually looked into. It ogened at a family
register, but the register di not seem to have
been used. 4

Yes—there was one record. Under the head
of marriages he read this entry:

“ March 21, 18—, Wiley Simmes and Ella Crozier."

 

“ Sol” he muttered.
hand, and I would be glad to know a little more
about it than I now know. It is no wonder the
young Lady looked at me so strangely when I
asked her about Wiley Simmes, as e is evi-
dently related to the family. But why should
she deny the relationship? The Ella. Crozier
whom Simmcs married was probably a sister 2!
this old gentleman, and the fair Kate is his
niece.
Wiley Siuimes? No, it can’t be, as her name is
Crozwr.
matter, and I mean to get at the heart of it if I
can.”

Unable to find anything more, in the Bible or
elsewhere, that could throw light upon the sub
ject of his wonderment. he went to bed, where
he turned the ma r over in his mind until
sleep set him to dreaming of it.

CHAPTER IV.
IN THE HEART or run: BILLS. I

 

1s it possible that she isa daughte 'of *

“ That is right into my ‘

Th re is surely a mystery about the, >

\ l

A NIGHT scene in the heart of the Lampasas  ~ '-

Hills.
At the hend of a pass is a wild and romantic
valley, with

 

lenty of timber and water, and ‘ 

With grass w ere it has not been eaten ofl'by/ ‘ I

the animals. The valle is shut in on all,sides
by ridges and cliffs, w ich render it nearly if

not quite inaccessible, except by way of the ,

pass.
Several skin lodges, in the Comanche style,
are scattered about among the trees, and a few

rude log cabins are built against the base of a ,

clifl’. It is evidently a permanent camp. As
such, it can hardly be sus )ected of being the
residence of any of the wil tribes of Texas, as“
it is not their custom to have permanent abiding ‘
places.

And yet the indications are very strong that
it is an Indian encampment. A number of men,

in the garb of Indians, and bearing unmistakably .

 

 

the appearance of aborigines, are standing and 

lounging about, or engaged in variouslight em-
ployments.

Among them, however, are nearly an equal
number of others, who also wear the savage

garb, and might easily be mistaken for Indiana,  '4 ~

did not a close inspection show that the bronze
skins of most of them were originally white, and
that they belonged to another race or more‘tlmn,
on a race, of men. .
The cam is the rendezvous and retreat of a
band of w its and red Indians—outlaws both.
—who have become known and feared for and
wide, under the leadershi of Left Hand, a

 

 

Kiowa sub-chief, and Gla 9 Oak, who is com 

than suspected of being a white man.
Glade Oak and Left Hand are seated under a '

tree, near a lodge, conversing, and several other .-  v

white and red men are near
lpaying little attention to the conversa
reality drinking in every word,
is not altogether amicable. , r
Left Hand has been complaiuiq to the white
chief concerningBthe joint operations of the
and white mem rs of the hand. and of the com-
paratively small share of plunder, in his Opinion,
that has fallen to the red-men; 'He also oom-
plalns that expeditions have been undertaken

them a rent]
' pgfhutiii

and raids have been conducted with a view ‘to I

its tone ‘

  
  
 

‘l

_ g...» .iMl.

’ and that is a business which pays less than any

/ hand of the white man, and wrung it until his

 

8 The White Wolf.

 

serve the interests of Glade Oak and his friends,
rather than those of Left Hand and his people.
He is evidentl dissatisfied with the menu gement
of their pr atory partnership, and speaks
sharply as well as querulously.

Left Hand is a tall, dark-featured Indian,
with a morose countenance, and a hungry,
vulture-like ex ression. Glade Oak is also
durkvfeatured, or a white man, and his hair is
quite gray. He bears his years well, however,
and his arore form, straight and full~chested,
shows that e still possesses an abundance of
stren h and endurance,

“ ell, chief,” said the white man, “ I must
admit that you make a fair showin with your
complaints, when you bunch them a 1 together;
but they don't really amount to much when we
fime to pull them apart and take them singly.

owever, I want to please you and your people,
if I can and mean to try to satisf you. As for
the catt e I know that we haven” got as much
for them ately as we expected to get; but there
have been many difficulties in the way. We
have not only had to take risks, ourselves, but
have had to pay other peo le for taking risks;
so that the loss and the cost ave been consider-
able. We can’t s are men to run the cattle
into Mexico, and t at has got to be too risky a
busigess anyhow; so we must do the best We
can.

“If we get little for the cattle,” replied the
chief, “ we must take more cattle, and get
more.” ,

“That is another of your complaints. You
think. that we ought to make more mids and
bring back more cattle; though I am afraid that
you are more hungry for scalps than for cattle;

thing. These Texans can stand it to lose a few
cattle and horses now and then, but, when it
comes to killing their wives and children, we
may get the whole country raised, and the last
man of us will have to go under.”

“ Is Glade Oak afraid?”

“ You know whether I am afraid, and it isn’t
becoming to. you, chief, to throw out any such
slurs. If you must have a raid, you shall have
it, and plenty of cattle. If it should bring us
into trouble, you mustn't blame me. There is a
fine herd fattening for us, down on the plains;
but it belongs to a man named Jack Scott, who'
is a captain of rangers. Nothin would suit me
better than to pitc into one of t at crowd, and
I hope that you will be as well suited. What
do fiou think of it, Peters?”

at is into my hand," replied a white man,
who had been sitt ng near, seeming to take no
interest in the conversation. “ I owe J ack Scott
a grudge and will be glad of the chance to take
it out of him. ' But we may stir up a hornets’
nest, and that’s a, fact.” i

There was a_ shrill whistle at the head of the
pass, which fittracted the attention of all, and
soon two m rode into the valley—one of them
a white man, mounted on a good horse, and the
other an Indian, riding a pony.
forward and dismounted, Glade Oak recognized
them, and hastened to meet them. He seized the

 

visitor winced with pain.
“ I am so glad to see you, Lee!” he exclaimed.

/

“ It was so Bgood of you to come as soon as I sent
for you! ut you Will never regret it, my boy.
You shall lose nothing by it.”

“ I hope I haven’t lost anything b it,” replied
Lee Crozier; “ but I am not sure. know that
I disliked to come, just at the time I was called

[1.
p‘(‘)Why so?”

"Because of Cousin Kate and a stranger. I
didn’t like to leave them just then.”

“ What do you mean? Come and tell me all
about it."

The two walked aside, and Lee Clozier gave
Glade Oak 8. full and circumstantial account of
the arrival of the young stranger at Redwood,
of the difficulty that ensued of the timely ap—
pearance of Kate Crozier, an of the race that
Wound up the affair.”

“Well,’ said the white chief, when he had
finished his account; “ I don’t see any occasion
for uneasiness. The man was a perfect stran er,
and it is not likely that Kate would take im
home, although she asked you to invite him. ”

“ Don’t you know Kate better than that
uncle? You know how impulsive she is, an
how willful she is, too. She is bound to have
her own way in spite of everybody, and I could
see that she had taken one of her sudden fancies
to the stranger, or to his horse perhaps to both.
I would be willing to bet that he is at m
father‘s house now. But that was not all
was suspicious of that man, as I am naturally
suspicious of every stranger who comes from
that direction and in his style. I wanted to find
out who and what he was. I would have taken
him home, and would have wormed his secret
out of him, if he had a secret; but Kate—she
would be morelikely to tell everything she knew,
than to find out anything worth learning."

“What sort of a man was this stranger, as to
looks?”

“ Young—a little older than I am—fair—
skinned — light-haired —— blue-eyed —— with sense
and courage and activity and determination
written all over him—a real splendid fellow to
look at, I must admit.”

“ There are plenty of {pung men of that de-
scription. Can it be, th k you, that there was
ignogher of them to come; that he has come at

st

“It might be, and my sus icions are always
running in that direction. I there should come
another, Uncle Wiley, you know the old saying,
that the third time is the charm.”

“I would run no risks. my boy.
would be enough for me. If I should have cause
to suspect that he has come on‘that errand, I
would crush him at once. But I should hate to
have any innocent blood on my hands, and it
can hardly be possible that another was to
come.” 0

“ 1 he not. Whoever he may be, it won’t
be safe or him to get between Kate and me.”

“ Do you still wish to marry her?” -

“ Of course I do.”

As they came ' “'It is well that you do. No matter how I

came by my property, and no matter how I may
leave it. there will be a pile at my death, and
she is to have it. With t a property you are to
inherit, there will be a splendid fortune for you
two, and it must be united in you. In that there

,n..__,

Suspicion L

 

,fl,‘ ~e, ..

:22W» r"  ” “  ‘ifimwwm'y:
. H‘ . ‘1

'4.- nm. .. my”).
I

 

 
   

 

 

 

   
 

 
 

    

must be no failure. What seem to be her feel-
ings towa rd you at present!”

“ She likes me well enou h, I an pose as a
cousin. When that is said, a l is said? ’

“Captain Crozier has too little energ . He
does not take the interest in the match t at he
ought to take that he must take. That shall be
changed, an all concerned shall know just
where they stand. She shall be given to know
that she is to be your wife, and the affair must be
settled before long. Yes, it must be settled and
made certain, beyond the reach of chance or
change. I am afraid that I am to have trouble
here my boy. Left Hand and his Kiowas are
becoming sus icious almost rebellious. I am in—
clined to thin that they have been guessing at
some secrets which I would rather they should
know nothing about, and that they will be for
taking the reins into their own hands. If they
tr it, there will be a fight, and one side or the
ot er mustbe rubbed out. And again—thou h
I don’t like to confess it. and perhaps am si y
and superstitious—I feel that I am not long for
this world, that trouble is ahead of me, and that
it is likely to make an end of me. I want you
and Kate—x”

The sentence was interrupted by a horrid yell,
like the bowl of a wild beast, but strangely sug-
gestive of a human voice, proceeding from one
of the ledges that surrounded the valley. Then
something was heard crashing among the bushes
and loosening the stones along the led e, and the
howl was re eated, echoed and re-ec oed from
rock to roe , until it died awa in the distance.

The white chief sprung to is feet, his coun—
tenance expressive of surprise and terror. Lee
Crozier also arose, his eyes wr e open with won-
der, listening intentlly for a repetition of that
horrid unearthly ye 1.

“What is it?” he asked, as some men came
running 3;, makin their way toward the ledge.

_“ The bite W0 f!” was the reply. “ He has
get loose I”

“ I told you,” said Glade Oak, “ that trouble

was to come upon me. This is the beginning of
t

He hastened to a lodge, Seized a rifle, and ran
toward the ledge, closely followed by Lee Cro-
zier. A number of white and red Indians were
already on the ledge, 1n ursuft of the creature
who had uttered the terri c howls.

Crozier cau ht sight of him, in the moonli ht.
as he crosseda bare part of the ledge. he
creature had the form of a man, altbou h his
face could not be seen, was scantily cad in
skins, and the remnants, of a broken chain
clanked amon the rocks as he ran. His 5 d
wasso great, t at he easily kept ahead 0 his

ursuers and he seemed to be impervious to
their bullets, although shot after :hot was fired
after him."

At last his pursuers uttered a shout of tri-
umph, as be halted at the edge of a precipice,
which, as they well knew, was so steep that no
man would dare attempt to descend it.

“ Shoot him down! Shoot him downl” cried
the ghite chief, as he fired his own rifle at the
fa ' ve.

he creature uttered another howl, louder,
wilder, more horrid than ever, and leaped out
into the air.

The White Wolf.

 

 

CHAPTER V.
OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
LAST CHANCE was in no hurry to tear himself

away from Captain Crozier’s mansion. There
was a mystery about the place which he desired
to solve, and there was an attraction, in the
shape of Kate Crozier, from which he did not
wis to free himself.

He made little progress in solving the mys-
tery, but considerable progress in increasing
the strength of the attraction. He and Kate
Crozier became mutually more and more pleased
with each other, and she seemed to have given
herself up, without regard to myste, ies and
anxieties, freely and unreservedly to the en—
joyment of his society.

A ride which he took, in the sole com ny of
himself, on the evening of his second ay‘s so-
journ at the Crozier mansion, developed some”
new ideas, and added a fresh interest tothe situ-
ation.

He had gone several miles from the lante-
tion, in the direction of the distant hi 5, and
was thinking about starting on his return, when
he met anot er solitary horseman, who was rid-
ing toward him. I r

This horseman was still a young man, perhaps
adozen years older than C ance, although his
hair, which was quite white, gave him a singular
a pearance of advanced age. His attire was
t at of the border, with a touch of the savage
showing itself in buckskin moccasins and heav-
ily fringed hunting-shirt. A rifle was slung at
his back, and he carried a heavy stock whip in
his hand.

As they a proached each other, Last Chance
reco ized t e other horseman, and spurred for-
war to meet him. A surprised and joyful
greetin ensued.

“ Jac Scott!” exclaimed Chance; “ how in
creation did you get down into this part of the
country?” ,

“ Is that you, Arthur Lynn? You are the
last man I would have expected to meet here.”

“I am lad to see you, old fellow. Tell me
what it is t at 1you are doin in Texas.”

“Just now have been unting some stray
cattle, but haven’t found them, and am on my
wav home.”

“ On your way home! Do you mean tosay
that on have a home in this region?”

“ hat is just what I have, and it isasure
enough home. I have not only a home, but a
wife, and a baby. and a big plantation and so
man cattle that I have lost the count of them.”

“ am glad to hear that. How did it hap-
pen?” ,

“ I came down here, soon after you left me,
when we returned from our trip to the moun-
tains. I don’t know why I came, unless it was
because I thought I belonged in Texas; but this
was just the place for me, as it turned out. ,In—
dians were pretty bad Just then. and I made
myself so useful to the people about here, that
they chose me a captain of ran on to look after
the Indians and some others w o needed takin
care of. I had a rough time in that service, bu
it was the sort of a life that I liked, as you
know, and I did my duty and became po ular.

“ Among other people I became intima with
an old gentleman who owned/lots of land and

l

y\‘

 

  

    
  
 

 

10

cattle, and who had only one child, and she was
a daughter. The daughter took a fancy to me,
and I to her, and we concluded to marry. Her
father was willing, and we did marry. Then
the old man died, and left us the plantation and
cattle that I told you about. They belong to
Tennessee—that’s my wife—but she let’s me
boss them, and she is the best girl in the world,
and I am as happy as any fellow needs to be.”

“ I congratulate you, Jack, With all in
heart, and am free to say that such good luc '
cctiuldnnot happen to a man who is more worthy
o it.

“Anyhow, Arthur it is much easier to im-
agine why I should have come to this country,
than why I should find you here. I want to
know what has brought you to Texas?”

“It is a long story, Jack, and a hard one;
but I will give it to you in as few words as ossi—
ble. Many years ago, shortly before was
born, my father was a. prominent lawyer in
Kentucky, and rosecuting attorney of a judi-

' cial distnct. In one of the counties which

composed the district lived a family named
Simmes the male members of which were a
man and his two sons. They were all most des-

rate and outrageous law-breakers, and were
Elie terror of the country.

“M father determined that those outlaws
shoul be brought to justice, and stirred up the
people until he gathered a posse for the pur-

. He put himself at the head of the posse,
and acoomplished the ob'ect, after a desperate
struggle, in which the o (1 man and one of the
sons were killed. The other two sons were cap-
tured, were placed in the safest jail in the dis-
trict, and were securely guarded until the day
of trial, when they were found guilty of mur-
‘der, and sentenced to be hung. The sentence
was executed upon one of them; but the other,
fiwhose named was Wiley Simmes, escaped from
the jail and fledlthe country. The people show—
ed their appreciation of my father’s efforts in
breaking up the gang, by electing him judge of
that circuit.

“One night, a few weeks after I came into
the‘world, ewas seated in his house, with his
family around him, when the crack of a rifle
was heard, and he fell dead, shot through the
brain.’ It was soon learned that Wiley Simmes
had returned from Texas. and had been seen in
the neighborhood. As he disappeared immedi-
ately after my father‘s death. there was the
stron t reason to suspect that he had com-
mit the murder, that he had come from
Texas for that special purpose.

. “ My eldest brother, Reuben, was then nearly
amen grown. As soon as he was of age, he
lett us, and started for Texas, with the avowed

I intention of finding Wiésy Simmes and aveng-
e

in; his fatherls death. never heard of him
again, and the 1[presumption is that he failed to
shear the wol and met his death in the at-
tem t. My mother had been broken down in
hea. thel‘le my father’s death; the loss of Reu-
$311311 the measure of her afflictions, and she

“ Then my brother Frank set out on the same
errand that had made an end of Reuben.
wanted to with him; but he would not al-
low me to so, saying, that I \was too young.

 

 

    
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
   
   
   
 
  
 
     
  
 
    
  
 
 
    
    
  
 
    
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  

The White Wolf.

 

It was a long time before I heard from him
then I received a letter, telling me that he be
heard of Wiley Simmes, and was seeking him.

“ There was another long silence; then an—
other letter, saying that he had found Simmes,
and was on his trail. The letter was written
from somewhere in this vicinity. That was
about five years ago, and I have never again
hearf'd from Frank. He, also, failed to shear the
we] .

“I am the last of the family, and have de—
voted myself to the some mission of vengeance.
I was held back, during several years, by cir-
cumstances which were beyond my contro , but
have come at last. I have not only the death
of my father to avenge, but the fate my two
brothers—whatever that may have been, and
must make a sure thing of it. ’

“ It is no easy task, Arthur,” said Jack Scott.

“ You mustn t call me Arthur, J ack, or Lynn.
Last Chance is the name 1 am to be known by
ligro, and that of Arthur Lynn must not be heard
0 . ’

“ It is a strange name. my boy.”

“Yes, and it is a strange purpose that has
caused me to take it. In that purpose I am set,
and mean to leave nothingr undone that should
be done, toward carrying it into effect.”

‘ ‘You may rel on me,‘ my boy, to do every-
thinw that I can ( o to help you.”

“ .can‘t allow myself to call upon you, J ack.
I must play a lone hand in this game. You
have a wife and a child. For their sakes you
must not run any unnecessary risks, But you
may be able to give me some information.”

“ About Wiley Simmes? I don’t know any
manof that name.”

“ Well, I have a elew. I believe that he is
alive, and that he is somewhere in this neighbor-
hood. It was at Captain Crozier‘s that I found
the clew.”

“ You have been at Captain Crozier‘s? And
only two days in the country? That is pretty
well. How did it ha. :pen, Arthur?"

“ Call me Chance, Jack: anytaing but Arthur
or Lynn. It hapgened that I was taken to Cap-
tain Crozier’s by is niece, a young lady named
Kate Crozier.” .

“ You have seen Kate Crozier, and she has
taken you to her father’s house? That beats me.
Well, Chaney, you may as well give up your

ame!”

u VVhy so?”

“ Because you will be sure to fall in love with
that girl, if you haven’t done so already,,and '
then you will have neither the time nor the heart
for following up that other business. "’

“ That’s as it may be. It is certain that noth-
ing shall hinder me from pursuin my urpose.
I asked the young lady about iley immes,
and she acted very strangely. She begged me
not to have anything to do with him, and ad-
mitted that he had a bad reputation, though she
hoped—quite warmly—that he didn‘t deserve it.
Then I caught sight of the record of a marriage,
in a Bible at the house, which leads me to believe
that Wiley Simmes married a sister of Cantain
Crozier's. Consequently, he may be Miss Kate's ,
uncle, and that would account for her strange
conduct when I mentioned his name.”

' “ Or her father, Chaney.”

   

 

    

 

The White Wolf.

11

  

 

The youn man started and turned pale.

“ No, J ac l” he exclaimed. “How can you
say that? Her name is Crozier, not Simmes. It
is impossible that she should be his daughter.
The same suspicion occurred to me for a moment,
but I thrust it aside immediately. Of course he
can’t be her father.”

“ I hope not,” replied Jack, with some feeling.
“ I now think that I know who Wiley Simmes
is, and that I could put my hand on im with«
out much difficult . I am sure that I know the
haunts of that gir ‘s uncle, or whoever he may
be. I ought to know something about this coun-
try, Chaney, as it was here that I hogan life.”

“were you born here, Jack? That is news to

me.

“ I didn’t say that I was born here.”

“ What do on mean, then i"

“I will tel you, if you want to know. It
isn‘tumuch of a story, though it is a strange
one.

 

CHAPTER VI.
ADVENTURE AND DISCOVERY.

“I DIDN’T tell you that I was born here," said
Jack Scott, by way of commencing his story.
“ I said that it was ere that I began life, and I
began it here as a grown man. I don’t know
where or when i was born, nor do I know any-
thing of the life I led before I began m life
here. I only know that I was picked up 3/ a
Lipan Indian, one morning, at the foot 0 a cliff
not far from here, and that I was as near dead
as a man could be and miss it. I suppose it
would hardly be stretching the truth to so ' that
I was shot all to pieces. I have a num r of
scars on my body, and the worst, I think, is on
the side of my head, where a bullet grazed m
skull, and I suppose it cracked it. The shor
must have destroyed my memory, as I have not
the least idea how I came by my hurts nor the
slightest remembrance of anything that had
hapq‘ened to me previous to that time.

" he Lipans took com assion on me, and
nursed me back to life. T ey were a long time
about it, no doubt, and their skill in the treat-
ment of wounds must have been great. They
all wondered how I lived through it, and I have
never ceased to wonder at that, in self, But I
did live, as you see and grow we and strong
at last, though my hair was as white as it now
is, before I could stand on my feet.

“ As it was impossible to recall the ast, I
bothered myself no more about it than could
help, and became reconciledto my new life. I

ot the name of Jack Scott—though I don’t
know how I got it, and don’t so pose it belongs
to me—and made myself usefu to the Emma
Once I accompanied them on a huntin -excur-
sion, to the north of thn'Arkansas. an fell in
with some white hunters, who rsuaded me to
take a trip to the mountains. t was there that
I met on. Since my return to Texas. the
Lipans ve been my good friends, and allies.
They have rendered me some Service, and I have
done them many favors. Now you know,
Chane , why I say that my life began here.
But w at is the matter with your horse, my
boy? Did a snake cross the road?"

‘No. Your horse is frightened, too. There
must be something in the brush yonder.”

 

  
 
  
  
    
  
  
    
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
   
    
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
       
   
     
     
     

Both horses had stopped, and were snorting,
backing, trembling. and giving evidence of ex-
treme terror. Their riders spoke to them, but
could not quiet them. As Last Chance had said
there was surely something in the brush ahead
of them.

“ Some sort of a varmint," said Scott. “ I
see his eyes shine.”

The other looked in the direction poian out,/ " '
and he, too saw a pair of luring, fiery eyeballs

learning through the to iage, which hid the

ace to which they belonged. '

Scott unslung his rifle, and his companion
drew a pistol from his belt. v

The horses snorted in their increased terror,
and hacked and plunged, as a rustling was
heard in the brush. and a strange creature burst
out and stood bcforo them.

At the first view, the creature might easily"
have been mistaken for a wild beast; but it
walked on two legs, and wore the semblance of _ 
a man. His long and tangled hair fell in masses
about his shoulders and over his wild and fiery
eyes. His face was covered with an abundance
of rough and matted beard, which scarce] per-
mitted the countenance to be. seen. e was
bareheaded, but was scantil clothed in ragged
skins, which seemed to have cen tied about him
with striu s. In one hand he carried a long and
stout stic , and the fragment of a chain was
fastened to one ankle. *

“ Who—what is this?” asked Arthur Lynn, as
be cooked his pistol, and leveled it at the-advan-
cin creature. . /

‘ Don‘t shoot,” re lied Scott, “It mustbea
wild-man, though 1 ve never heard of such a
thing in these parts. He don’t mean any harm,

I hope, and we mustn’t hurt him." ‘

The creature stopped in front of the horses '
which were only partially controlled by the ,
stron arms of their riders. He shaded his eye-3'
with is hand and looked at them long and
senrchingly. Then he spoke, in harsh, metallic,
unpleasant tones, which Set his hearers‘ nerves
on ed e, as the filing of a saw in: ht have done.

“ iley Simmes!” he so id. “ iley Simmes! x
No! Not here! But 1 will find himl Yahdml
ha! ha-a-al”

His voice continued to rise as bespoke, and he
ended with a demonish yell, which was prolong-
ed ashe ran away, with long and rapid strides, .
and disappeared in the broken and thicklye- 
timbered ground at the left of the track. .‘

The two horsemen restored their weapons to ,.
thfiir places, and looked wonderineg at each
ot er.

“ Theatrical 1" said Arthur L n. t

“ It beats me "said Scott. “ V 'hoevcr orwhat- '
ever the thing is, he is as wild a a panther, and
is raving crazy. Where can he have come l
from?” , .

“ He was lookm for Wiley Simmes. Didn't
you hear him? an didn’t you notice the chain
on his leg, and the blood on his le and arms
and head? He is some poor devi whom that \ ..
wretch has hada spite against, and whom he ‘
has tortured until he has made a beast of him.
He has been chained but has got loose, and only
Ignowfi enough to hunt the man who has abused

1m. .
“ That may be so. I am afraid you are right.  .1

,\

 

they will not be expecting you then.
is only a mile or So from here, and it Will really
be better for you to take shelter with me.”

12 I The White Wolf.

 

If I could catch the creature, and if he had sense
enough to tell what is the matter with him, I
would know more about it.”

“ There is danger in allowing such an object
to wander about the country. "‘

“True enough; and that makes me think of
my wife and baby. It is getting late, Cheney,
and you had better go home and pass the night
with me, and let me show you Ten and Eleven.

“ What do you mean by Ten and Eleven?”

“ Ten, is my wife, Tennessee. As the boy is
one more, I sometimes call him Eleven. Ten has
heard me speak of you, and will be glad to see

u.
“ But I ought to go back to Captain Crozier’.=.
They will be expecting me there.”
“ You are a long way from Crozier’s. You
couldn’t reach his house until late at night, and
My place

“ I believe you are right, and I will accept
your offer.”

As the sun was getting low, the two rirlers
gushed their horses, and went forward at a

risk pace, until they came in sight of a broad
and low farm-house, with straggling outbuild-
ings about it, situated in a depression of the
prairie, that might almost be called a valley.

The setting sun gave such pleasant tints to the
brown homestead and the green fields, and the
scene was so quiet and peaceful, that Arthur
Lynn involuntarily paused to admire it. .

Almost too quiet and eaceful, Jack Scott
seemel to think, as he reined in his horse, and
bent a. searching glance upon the scene before
him, while his face was shadowed by an expres-
sion of anxiety and dread.

“ I don’t like the look of this Chaney,” he
said, seizing the arm of his frien with a con—
vulsive gripe.

“ What do you mean?
enou h, I am sure. What is the matter?”

“ othing. I hope; but I am afraid. It is too
still-strau rely still. I hear nothing, and sea
nothing that moves. No cattle, no niggers, no
noise. ‘ Thire may have been a raid. I have en—
emies enough. If anything has gone wrong with
Tennis and the baby, I don‘t know how I shall
stand it.” ‘

They rode on; but the shadow deepened on
Ca tain Scott's face as be up reached his home,
an still heard no noise an still saw nothing
move. He fairly trembled at the anticipation
of'what he feared, and his com anion felt that
he could say nothin<r to relieve is anxiety.

As they neared the house, a negro boy came
in sight, crawling out from under a wood-pile
and running toward them. He was crying and
wringing his hands, and his black face was blue
with grief and terror.

“Day’s done gone, Marse Jacki Dey’s done
gone l' he was saying, as he ran up to his master.
, “ What is the matter, Tony?”

. " In 'uns. Morse Jack! Injunsl”

“ W at has happened? Tell me all about it?"

From the boy’s distracted statements it was
gathered that “ a big crowd of Injuns had come,

’had killed de niggers, had run of! de cattle, had

from“ tree de house, and had carried away Miss
Tounic and do baby.”

ea...

It looks pleasant,

 

Captain Scott turned deadly pale. He reeled
in his saddle, and would have fallen if his friend

had not held him. When he recovered his com-.

posure, he dismounted.

“ Hitch these horses, Tony,” he said. “ Come,
Chaney let us walk in and see for ourselves.”

The two white men entered the yard and the
house. They found two ne 0 men and a woman,
dead and scalped. In the ouse, such articles as
and not been carried away were broken up,
thrown about, and left in the reatest confusion.
It was a dead-house to Jack cott. Its life, its
soul, its heart, had been violently wrenched
away, and only the shell was left. esaid noth-
ing, but went on into the room which had once
been his wiles, and where there was still much
to remind him of her. There he turned his face
to the wall, and covered it with his hands. Af-
ter a few moments he walked out, followed, by
his friend.

“ Now for business,” he said. “I will soon
know who has done this, and the shall have
cause to wish that they had kill Jack Scott
before they touched his family.”

He closely (filliestioned the u re boy, and
learned that .t e marauders ha come before

noon, that part of the negroes Lad esca to
the timber, and that Tony had conseal him-
self in the wood-pile, from which he did not dare
to emerge until he saw his master approach.

Then the ranger closely studied, as well as the
growing dusk would allow, all the tracks about
the place, both of horses and men.

“ It is 'ust as I suspected,” he said. “ Glade
Oak and aft Hand haw- been here, with their
red and white robbers. Sam Peters with them.
He owes me a special grudge, and has struck a
hard blow this time. Chaney, I am with you,
now, in a hunt for Wiley Simmes.”

“ What shall we do first?” asked Chance.

“ We must follow that trail. There will be a.
moon and we can do it easy enough. Do you
stay ere, Tony, until some of the people come
back. Then tell them to bury these bodies and
fix up things as well as they can.”

 

CHAPTER VII.
wnrrr. wow.

POOR Tennessee Scottl It was wonderful how
bravely she bore herself, when her plantation
was harried, when her servants were murdered,
and when she was dragged from her home, with
her babe in her arms.

The worst of her trials came when she, was
approached by a man who appeared to bean
Indian, but who spoke to her, tauntineg and
triumphantly, in her own language. She then
knew him to be Sam Peters, a man whom her
husband, as a. captain of rangers. had once
doomed to death for his many crimes but who
had escaped the noose that was knotted for him.
and had vowed to be revenged upon Captain
Scott. This wretch quickly gave her to under-
stand that she was in his power, and that he
would visit upon her the vengeance which he
was unable to wreak upon her husband.

Even then she bore herself proudly, and her'
black eyes flashed defiance at the painted villains.
as she rejoiced in the reflection that her husband

had been from home, that ho had not follen‘

 

tr! ,3 e- V?

 

: w» 

 
 
   

 

    

/

The White Wolf. 13

 

under their murderous hands, that he still lived
for pursuit and for vengeance, if not for rescue.
It was for him she feared. in him her life was
bound up, and she knew that he “as safe. She
knew that the hardy borderers would rally to
his call, and that a fearful retribution Would
overtake those who bud dared to outrage his
homestead.

She well knew that resistance and remon—
strance were alike useless, and that she could
only passively submit to whatever she should
be compelled to do.

She mounted a horse, therefore, as she was
ordered to do, with her babe in her arms, and
rode awa toward the north, with the main
body of t is inaruurlers. A smaller portion set
of! in another direction, driving the cattle and
horses .that had been collected from the plan-
tation.

Night found her in the heart of the bills, at
the camp of the red and white outlaws, and
there was a discuss-ion among them as to what
should be done with her. As it was carried out
in a lan uage that was unknown to her, she
could on y guess at its meaning. Sam Peters
seemed to urge his claim vehemently, but was
hotly o )osed by the Left Hand, who had de-

' s o is own upon the captive.

he discussion was closed by placing the pris-
ODLP in charge of Glade Oak, who was to have
temporary control or hu- until the rival claims
should be adjusted. He led her up a steep and
dimcdlt wa , to a h (igc in the side of the cliff,
where he to d her'that she might remain unmo‘
lasted until morning. He then left her, and
placed two of his men as guards at the foot of
the way that led up the l «lgc.

Tennie looked about her when he had one,
and careful! studied the situa'inn. The edge
Was narrow, ing little more than a small 0; cu-
ing In the clifl, overhung by masses of rock.
There was manifestly no wa of egress, except
by the road b which she ha come. As escape
was impossib e, the had nothing todo but to
reconcile herself to thci‘act t .at she must re-
main there until morning. when her fate would
be decided. I

The hours of the right slipped away rapidly,
until it was near time for the shades to begin to
lift. The moon had set, and the camp of the
outlaws was shrouded in darkness. 'l'uey were
all aslee , with the exce tion of the guards at
the head of the  an the sentries about the
camp. On the rd ledge lay Tennie Scott
sleeping an uneasy sleep, With he: baby hugged
close to her heart.

Suddenl a form approached and stood over
her—the arm of a. str e, wild-lookin crea-
ture, scantily clothed in s ins, and wearing the
fragment of achain at one of his ankles. He
seemed to have come out of the solid rock in
front of which Tennie lay; but dayli ht would
have revealed the fact that he had ro ed away
a large stone. disclosing an opening through
which he had crawled.

He bent over the sleeping mother and her
babe, and examined them closely for a few
moments, with the look of one who was accus-
tomed to darkness, and who could see at night,
as well as by day. ’

Then he stooped lower, and wrapped the

 

blanket closely about the mother’s howl Ni"
arms. Almost by the same motion be seized
Tennie and lifted her, holding her so that it
was impossible for her to move.

He ste pad to the ed 0 of the clifl’ and uttered
a feurfu , demonish ye l—a mingling of the bowl
of a wild beast with the shriek of a bird of preyr
—-which cut the darkness of the valley, arous-
ing its echoes, and startling from their slumbers
the sleeping scoundrels below.

“ The White Wolf 1” they shouted, as they re—‘
c ized the horrid yell, and caught sight of that
tal form.

The two guards who had been left at the foot
of the steep ascent began to climb the rocks,
and half a dozen rifles cracked, aimed at the
White Wolf.

But he was out of the reach of bullets, and
was already crawling. with his burden, through
the opening by which he had come. He paused
a moment, to replace the stone which he had
rolled away, and resumed his course, coming out
into the open air at a place where frightful ra-
vines and rugged masses of rock seemed to op-

lose an impassable barrier to further progress.

ut 'neither of these obstacles, nor the thick
darkness, nor the weight he carried, seemed to
impede the movements of the wild mountaineer,
who descended into the ravmes, and sprung
from rock to rock, as sure-footed and almost as
swift as the mountain goat.

The burden in his arms had been aroused from
her slumber when he took her up. Her first imi-
pulse had been to scream, and her next had been
to attempt to escape. Neither of these impulses
had been productive of any result. Her voice ’
was so effectually smothered that she could not
even move in the grasp of those long and pOWer-
t'ol arms. . '

She shuddered when the White Wolf uttered
that demonish howl, and was sufficiently alive
to her sit-nation to wonder what had hu p rened
to her and what would become of her aby. -
Then her senses forsook her, and she was borne
on unresisting. ,

It was daylight when she awoke, and size was ‘
lyin on a couch of cedar honghs on a ledge
simi ar to that from which she had been taken.
This ledge differed from the other, howevel'Lin
being backed by a roomy cave, and there ap— .
peared to be no possilde approach to it from be-

w.

0
Even before she was fairly awake, she in-
stinctively felt for her child. and found it at her
side. She touched it, shook it, until a faint cry
told that it was alive.
Satisfied on this mini), she looked about to ex-
amine her surroun ings:

At once her eye fell upon the horrid form of t —

the creature who had brought her there. He
was seated near her, with his knees drawn up,
and his mouth a iread in what was doubtless in- '
tended for a smi e; but it only increased his ug-
liness. Still, there was something of a kindly .
light in his wild eyes, and his intentions did not
ap ear to be immediately hostile.

ennie could not repress a cry of terror and
dismay. Was it a wild animal or a madman
that aged her in his power. ‘Almost any,fate
 to her, at that moment, to be preferable

Isl

  

 

/ his eyes.

14 The White Wolf.

 

“ Merciful God!” she muttered. “ Am I
awake, or is this a hideous dream?”

The monster spread his mouth wider yet, and
patted his hands upon his knees in a conciliatory
manner.

" Don’t be afraid,” he said. “ I am mad, and
I know it; but I won’t harm you. I am crazy
when I see Wiley Simmes and his vultures; but
I know that you will be good to me, and I will
be good to you.”

.“ Who are you? What are you?" gasped Ten-

1e.

“ I was Wiley Simmes’s White Wolf,” replied
the creature, mumblin his words, as if uuac-
customed to the use 0 his vocal organs. “I
was his pet White W'olf, and he chained me and
tortured me; but I am free now, and he shall
never chain me again. I will find him, and will
make my teeth meet in his throat, and will give
his flesh to the buzzards.”

The creature guashed his teeth and foamed at
his mouth, until Tennie shuddered and feared to
look at him. But the tuggingr of her baby at
the breast mercifully drew her thoughts into
another channel.

“ I will starve here," she muttered, “ and baby
will die."

.White Wolf ran to the end of the cave, and
brought to her an Indian basket, which he
placed at her side. It was full of cooked meat
and corn-cakes, all cold but fresh and savory.

This evidence of his iudness and good inten-
tions emboldened her to s eak to him.

.“ Where did this come 'rom?” she asked, look-
,ing at him in wonder. .

“ Eat it. It is good, and will ive you life
and stren th. I stole it from iley .Simmes
and his v tures. And this is not all I mean to
steal from him. I am crazy, but am wise
enough in some thin , and I mean to steal his
heart’s blood. But ' will be good to you and
your little tender lamb. Eat, and I will bring
you water.”

Tennis ate until she was satisfied, and drank
water from a tin cup which White Wolf gave
her. Then she thanked him for what he had
brought.

“egan you get more when this is gone?” she

D

I can steal all the meat and bread
they have. I stole you. from them, when they
.meaut to kill you, or to chain you up and tor-
ture you. Soon I will steal Wiley Simmes’s
heart. I wear his chain, so that I may remem-
ber him, but it hurts me to carry it. See!”
Tennie looked at his ankle, and saw that it
was raw and bleeding where the iron had chafed

‘ "it. She even felt of the chain, and examined it

closely, only to discOVer that it could not be re-
moved without tools. Then an idea struck her,
and she hastened to cut strips from a blanket,
with a scissors which she carried in her pocket.
She washed the wounds, bound them up with a
piece of her dress, and then wound the strips of
blanket about the chain, swathin and confining
in, so that it could not chafe his ash or impede
his ' motion as it had previously done. White
WolHeeked his gratitude, and tears fell from
Tennie then knew that he was human,
‘ and that his heart was right. no matter how his
head might have been abused.

plantation, and was recognized

 

CHAPTER VIII.
WILEY SIMMES HAS HIS TROUBLEs..

GLADE OAK had taken no rt in the discus-
sion between Left Hand an Sum Peters con-
cerning their claims to the possession of Tennes-
see Scott. The white chiet surely had as much
right to the fair captive as either of the others;
but he asserted no claim, and seemed to be re-
occupied by other thoughts. He had ta en
charge of her, when she was left to him, and had
cared for her as well as he could. Then he laid
down to slee with the others; but it was along
time before is eyes were closed in slumber.

He was the first to be awoke by the demonish
yell that startled the whole camp, and the first
to utter the cry of White Wolf that followed it.

Looking up with the others, he saw the tall
form of the wild man, dimly against the clifl’,
snatched up his rifle, and sent a ball whizzing at
the creature whose yell had aroused him.

“ It’s no use,” he muttered, as he perceived

that White Wolf had not been harmed by the

shots. “ Powder and lead won’t touch him.”

Then he sat down, to await the up roach of
the men who had hastened to ascend t a cliff.

They came back after awhile, and brought a
strange account. They had seen nothing, heard
nothing, found nothing. White Wolf was not
on the ledge, and the woman and her child had
disappeared. The guards at the foot of the cliff
were questioned, and were ready to swear that
nobod had passed them. ‘ The others were sure
that t ere was no chance to reach the ledge or
to leave it, except bv the steep and diflicult way
up which Teunie Scott had been taken. The
afiair was shrouded in mystery, an none of
them could make any thing of it.

“ White Wolf is dead,” said Glade Oak. “ He
killed himself when he jumped from the clifl’
yonder, and it is his ghost that has appeared to
us and carried off the woman.”

Sam Peters muttered something about a game
having been played upon him.

“ Do you mean to say that I have played a
game upon you?” exclaimed Oak, as he
turned sharply and faced him. “ If you dare to
insinuate such a lie, I will make buzzard’s meat
of you in no time.” -

Peters said nothing more, and the white chief
walked away, sullen, morose, and bent with
anxiety.

In the course of the morning he announced his
intention of going to attend to the di. 1 of
the cattle that had been procured on raid,
and prepared himself for that purpose. Wash-
ing the paint from his face and trimming his
hair altered his aspect considerably. When he
had arrayed himself in a homespun coat, jeans
breeches and a plaid vest, he presented the ap-
pearance of an honest farmer on a peaceful
errand, and could not easily be recognized as
Glade Oak, the outlaw chief who was feared
and hated through all that portion of Texas. It
is true that he carried a rifle, but that was noth-
ing unusual, and his two revolvers were con-
cealed under the skirts of his ample coat.

In this guise he reached Cagtain Crozier’s

y Lee Crozier,
who at once ushered him intoa private room,
where his father was sea .

Captain Crozier turned pale and trembled at

 

 

‘M

 

 

The White Wolf.

,5

 

the sight of his visitor. His tiuiidity and con-
fusion were so great, that he did not rise to
greet him, but remained in his chair, downcast
and ill at ease. ‘

The White chief did not allow this lack of
courtesy to bother him, but helped himself to a
chair, and motioned to Lee to Withdraw.

“VVhat’s the matter with you, Crozicrl" he
asked, roughly and sneeringly. “You look as
sneaking as a suck-egg dog, or as mean as a nig-
ger who has been caught stealing chickens. I
hope on are not afraid of me.”

“ ou know well enough, Wiley, that I have
reason to dread your coming.” replied Captain
Crozier. “ I never see you but you want me to
aid on in some of your lawless operations, or
to o something that may put my neck in a
noose.”

“ Bah! You are terribly afraid of that pre-
cious neck of yours. I can’t see that it is in
any danger. except from your own folly and
cowardice. You now what I have been doing,
not only since you have been acquainted with
me, but all my life, and I am not dead yet.”

“ No; you are alive; but what a life it isi I
would not lead such a life as you lead for the
world." .

“ What silly talk that is, Crozierl You ought
to be ashamed of it. Better live such a life as
mine, and get some profit out of it. than keep
up such a miserable, sneaking existence as yours,
with so little to show for what you do.”

“ It is true that I have nothing to show for
my life, that I am in a tangle from which I
can’t extricate myself, that you have made me
your tool and your slave; but I have done
nothin for which the law could hold me ac-
eounta 1e; while you—the people in these parts
would never wait for the law i they should lay
their hands on you.”

“They shall never lay their hands on me,
nnhss they touch my dead body. Living men
can’t frighten me; but when the dead come
after me, that gives me the blues.”

“ What do you mean by that, Wiley?”

“Never mind; there was something); but I
won’t speak of it now. I have come on usiness,
and that must be attended to before anything
else. We have just run oil? a big drove of cattle
and horses. Perhaps you have heard of it."

' Ca taiu Crozier groaned.

, on needn’t be scared. They were not your
cattle, and the transaction is not going to hurt
you. My men have hurried them off to Nunez,
who will lose no time in running them into
Mexico. You Will soon receive a draft from
Nunez, drawn on some Mexicnn banker. and I
want you to get it cashed. and to keep the pro-
ceeds for me. Will you do it?”

“I suppose I must; but I do wish, for Kate’s
sake, that I could get out of this business, and
that you would not trouble me any more.”

Wiley Simmes lau bed, and his laugh was
one that made his bro her-in-law shudder.

“ For Kate’s sake?” he asked. “ Why not for
Lee’s sake?”

“For Lee’s sake too, of course, though. he
might take care of himself.”

“I think he might. and no thanks to you.

« For Kate’s sake, as well as for Lee’s sake, you
had better stick to me as long as you 32m.“

—

Where would you have been, long ago, if you
hadn’t had me to stand by you? Down in the
depths of bankruptcy, so deep that you would
never have been heard of. A little worse than
that you would have been. too, it I had not kept
a still tongue in my head.”

“ I don’t see that I am much better 01! as it
is,” muttered Crozier. “All that I have be-
longs to you. and I can’t move a step without .
your xlrmission.” .

“ on are alive, and that is someth , and
that precious good name of yours, of whic yen
are S) tender, is saved to your family, of whom
you are so proud. Of course I had tokee a,

old upon ou, and I don't mean to let it go ust
yet. But won’t have to call u )on you to p
me in my business again. 'hen you have
cashed that draft, I won‘t bother youin that
line. of business again.” _

“ Thank God for that! I am afraid, Wiley,
that this last raid of yours is the Worst thing
you could have done, for your own ' , and
that it will bring you into trouble. T 086 were
Captain Scott’s cattle that on took, and you
know who and what he is. here was murder
done, I hear, and scalping, and Scott’s wife and
child were carried away. ’ x

“ I am not afraid of Captain Scott and allhis
rangers," re lied the white chief. “If there

was nothing ut them to trouble me, I woud be
easy enough. But Left Hand and his Kiowas
are getting motions, and I will have a “unity
with them yet. It was to please them and Sam
Peters that I made the raid on Scott’s planta-
tion. But that isn‘t all, Crozier.
reasons for believing that trouble is near me.”

“ What sort of trouble?” '

“ The White Wolf got loose the other n1 ht l”

Captain Crozier seemed to be Burp , but
not at all frightened, at this intelli once. I

“What or that?” he asked. ‘ He must be,
wild—perhaps an idiot, it not a madman. Why .'
should you be afraid of him?” . .

‘ “I am not afraid of any livin man. He is,
dead. He jumped off a cliff w ‘18 we were

“ If he is dead, you are safe. What harm
can happen to you from him?”

“When the dead come back, they can do
damage which we can’t guard against. His
ghost came to the camp last night, and carried

'awa Scott’s wife and child.” ,

“ Iis ghost! You needn‘t accuseme of talk-
ing nonsense, Wiley. It was the ruanrhimself.

got where he went to, or could have disappeared
as he did. It was his ghost, and that means
mischief to me. I wish you would fit me some
whisky, Crozier. The thought of t biginess 1
makes me sick.”

liquor, his_brothor-in-law paced the floor reat-
lessly.

 

CHAPTER IX. ‘

A PLOT AGAINST KATE.

Tan white chief drank a heavy draught .15
the whisky that Crozier brought him.
“ I hope it will drive away the blues,” he szid.’

. “a.

 

I have other ‘ '

chasing him, and that killed him, no doubt,” 3.}

He is alive, and on had better look after him." ‘
“I tell you t at no mortal man could have -

While Captain Crozier was gone for some _.

\l

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.1

V

I “ match

.56

The White Wolf.

 

 

‘ I must confess that I have had in bad attack
of them lately.”

“ I have had some cause for uneasiness, too,"
said Crozier. “ There has been a. young mun
here—”

“Yes,” interru ted the other; “Lee has told
me about him. he boy seemed to be unwilling
to leave him with Kate when I sent for him. Is
the young man here now?”

“ i don’t know what has become of him. He
went to ride yesterday, and was to return; but
he hasn’t come back, and I can see that Kate is
uneas .”

“Is Kate uneasy] Is that what makes you
uneasy?”

“Not that alone. There is a look about him
that I don’t like—something that reminds me of
Frank Lyn'n, as he looked when he stopped at

my house.
’ ‘What is the fellow’s name?”

“ He calls himself Last Chance.”

“ Does he pretend to say that is his real
name?”

“ sticks to it that it is.”

“ He lies. No white man on earth was ever
baptized with such a ridiculous name. Can
there be another who has come to seek me! Yes;
there was a baby, and he must be a man grown
now. If it is another of the Lynne, he had bet-
ter not cross myfipath, as I will be sure to make
anend of that tedrace. But I am sick and
tired of blood, Crozier. I am getting too old

, for that. Hand me the whisky.”

The white chief poured down another strong
drau ht of the fiery liquor.

“ ere is cause for uneasiness, Crozier, as you
say,” he resumed. “and it is no wonder that I
have had the blues lately. There are several
chances against me just now, and any one of
_ them may make an end of me. It is because I

feel thatI ma turn up missin some day, that
Harri: to sett e that marriage tween Lee and

to.
h captain Crozier shuddered and hung down his
ea

“ You are not going to kick against it, I
hope,” said Simmes.

‘ Oh, no; I am not going to make any objec-
tion, orto put any hindrance in the wa of the

e. I was thinking of what Ks. ’s feel-
i might be."

‘You needn’t saya word about it. I know
what they are, better than you could tell me. I
know that she don‘t care for exec t as a
cousin. Perhaps she may even dislike 111. But
that mustn’t interfere with the business. Love
will come along after marriage, and they will
both bless us for having brought them together.
I have a right to manage my child, I am sure, as
I think best.”

“Do on 311 posethat Lee will ob'ect to the
_ ask Captain Crozier. his ace bright-
ening as he looked up. '

“Lee object to it? Not be. You needn‘t think
that that Will at a stop to it. He has set his
heart on the ri. and means to have her. and I
mean that he shall. It is Kate who must be
made to listen to reason, and I know how to
attend to her case."

“ Do you mean to force the girl into a mar-

J

 

“ I will tell you cxactl what I do mean," an-
swered Simmes as he he ped himself to a glass
of whisky. “I mean that you shall have busi-
ness away from this plantation, which will keep
you absent for a day or two. While you are
away I will come here in dis uise, and will pick
Kate up and carry her off. Vhen I get her into
the hills, I shall manage the business to suit my—
self ; but you may be sure that they will be w'ell
married. You understand me now. To—mor—
row morning you are to leave. There is nothing
more to be said about it. When the draft come:
from Nunez, and when you have cashed it, you
must remember that you are to keep the pro—
ceeds for me. That is all, and I am off.”

Leaving C :ntnin Crozier seated in his chair.
with his head hung down, and his countenance
expressive of intense inward pain, the white
ch ef walked out of the room and out of the
house.

As he was about to mount his horse, Kate
Crozier came running to him, not with joyful
alacrity, but with the air of one who has an un—
pleasant or difficult task to perform, and means

town-form it.

iley Simmes lookdi’surprised as he saw her,
and chucked her under the chin, not very afl'ec—
tionately, but with a pleasant smile.
“ Why, my beauty, this is something like!” he
said. ‘ I can’t remember when you have runto
see me in this way. Are you glad to meet me,
or lad to see me go?”

he jumped into the middle of her business
at once, like one who has to take a cold bath,
and who means to plunge in and beover with it.

“ I want to ask you a question,” she replied.
“ Have you seen a young gentleman, a stranger
in these parts, named Last Chance?"

“ Last Chance? Last Chance? Do on really
mean to sa that there is any person 1 ving who
has the rig t to wear such a ridiculous new?”

“ Will you please answer my question, sir?
Have ]you seen any young gentleman who called
himse by that name?”

“It is the same young fellow you brought
home from Redwood, whose horse won a race
there the other day ?’

“Yes, sir. He said that his business in this
country might require him to see you, and was
asking where you were to be found. He went
away from here yesterda , and has not return-
ed. I thought you might ve met him.”

“ I haven t met him, and perhaps it is as well
for him that I shouldn’t meet him. As for you,
Katie, you had better not bother your brains
about him or any other Last Chance or Lost
Chances. Your fortune is. made, and you can
see all you ought to see right here at home.
Mind that, my irl!”

The white ch ef mounted his horse and rode
away without any further adieux. At a little
distance he was joined by Lee Crozier, who
went with him.

These two had been gone but a short time,
traveling toward the. north, when two more
horsemen came in sight from the south, and
Kate Croaier who was sadly meditating upon
the last words of Wiley Simmes, clapped her
hands in glee as she recognired hence.
His companion was Captain Scott.

The young gentleman stopped at the gate;

. “I 1‘ 7""

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’1'. a In.“

 

but Scott went to the house and direct to Cap-
tain Crozier’s room. His face was pale, his lips
were compressed, and his whole appearance was
expressive of stern determination.

Captain Crozier, vi ho was in n. stupor when
this visitor entered his room, looked up in sur—
prise, anxious to know what was meant by the
set purpose in his face.

“ I believe you know who and what I am,"
said the ran er, in reply to Captain Crozicr’s
greeting. “ y name is Jack Scott, and I have
no time to waste in useless talk. My plantation
has been robbed, my cattle have been run off,
my house has been plundered, my negrocs have
been killed and scalped, and my wife and child
have been carried away, by a hand of thieving
and murdering Indians and white men who are
worse than Indians.”

“ I had heard of that; it is very sad,” mutter-
ed Captain Crozier.

“ The leader of that band is a white Indian,
who is known among his red scalpers w the
name of Glade Oak. His real name is iley
Simmes, and he is your brother-in-law.”

“ This is very shocl-zing," said Crozier, in great
confusion. “ It is true that I have a brother-
in-law named Wiley Simmes; but it is hard to
believe that he would be guilty of such a crime.
Are you sure that you are justified in charging
him with it?"

“ I know that I am, and you know it too. It
is useless to mince matters or to pick words.
You know that Wiley Simmes is a robber and a
murderer. The ople are aroused, and it is de-
creed that he shall die, and that his band shall
be wi out. I don’t expect to see my wife
and c ild again. If _I should find her she will
be dead or worse; but those who committed this
outrage shall be fearfully punished. All the
people will turn out, and every man who is not
for us is against us. I have come to tell you
ibis, s?” that you may know your place and

eep l .

Captain Crozier trembled and writhed, while
a livid hue overspread his countenance, and his
eyes looked in every direction except at the man
before him. ‘

“ Do you want me to turn out? I am an old
man.”

“We don‘t expect you to turn out,” replied
Scott. “As you say. you are an old man; but
you have a son, and we shall count upon him.

t will be well for him if he joins us soon. If he
does not, he must ex ct to be treated as an
enemy. As for you, aptnin Crozier you are
more than suspected of having aided lade Oak
in his operations, and you had better be careful
how you conduct yourself.”

Captain Crozior arose, and drew himself up
with considerable dignity.

“ Do you know who you are speaking to, and
whose house you are in?” he asked.

“ I know it W911, and I know that I am

aking the truth. It is necessary to speak
p ainly. and I mean to speak plainly. I say that
you had better be careful how you conduct
yourself. If you are again guilty of harboring
Glade Oak or any of his men. you will be treat-
ed as an accomplice in this last crime, and Will
be strung up to the nearest tree. You know
who I am, and that I am in the habit of making

. on, -.-.,..

The White Wolf.

1'?

 

 

ntiy’ words good. That is all I have to say about
1

'Theranger turned and walked away, leaving
Captain Crozicr a prey to conflicting feelings

. that nearly drove him frantic.

Last Chance, in the mean time, had been im-
proving the shining moments with Kate Crozier,
at the gate. She did not attem t to conceal her
joy at seeing him, and asked im wh he had
stayed away. He told her that he ad met
Captain Scott, who was an old acquaintance and
friend, aml that the hours had slipped away so
rapidly while they were conversing of old times.
that he did not think of returnin to the Crczier
mansion until it was too late to 0 so. He had
then accepted his friend’s invitation to pass the
night with him, and had accompanied him to
his house. The young gentleman related what
he had seen there, and brought tears to Kate
Crozier’s eyes when he described the agony of
his friend.

“ The ltadcr of that band of savage wretches,"

he said, “is what is called a white Indian. and '

he turns out to be no other than that same Wiley
Simmes, about whom I was asking you some
questions.” ‘ ‘

Kate Crozier cast down her eyes, and trembled ‘

so that she was obliged to support herself against
the fence. '

“ Captain Scott is in an awful state of mind," '

continued the

oung entleman. "Heisbent on
revenge, and

as ea ed out the rangers. The

epic are aroused, and mean to make an end of, ‘ "

iley Simmes and his gang."

“But you—what interest have you in the»

matter?" asked Kate, without looking up.

“ I shall help in friend, of course.

“I wish I coud say something to persuade
you tokeep out of that business. Wh should
you peril your life in an enterprise t t is to

ring you no beneflt’l I have alread warned
on agaigst having any thing to do th Wiley
immes.

“ I don’t believe that he can harm me. Hg is '

nothing to you, I hope.” .
“Nothing to me? Oh. no. Of course not.

But—I do wish I could see you once again, be-

fore y go on that expedition.” . ‘
Cap in Scott came out of the house just then,

and the remainder of the conVersation between

the two was limited to a few words; but it re-
gulted in an agreement for a meeting the next
ay. ‘

 

CHAPTERxX. ' /
LOVE RUNS ROUGHLY.

CAPTAIN JACK Sco'r'r’s rallyiu cry brought
the rangers to the front rapidly.
time since they had had any important work to
do, and they had virtually disbanded; but they
loved their leader. and came to his call wit
alacrity, ready and anxious for action.

The rendezvous of the outlaws was Well '

known, and Jack Scott had tracked the raiding
iarty to their stronghold in the hills. It was
nown that their numbers were formidable, and.
that their sition was one which could easily
be defende against a large force. Under these
circumstances, the efforts to reduce them to
submission would assume the character of a

\

t was a long »-

    
 
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
    
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
   
   
    
 
   
  
    
  
  
   
   
    
  
  
  
   
   
   
    
 
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  

    

‘ \

. y.\
\

- \

18

The White Wolf.

.._..

 

war, requiring organization, preparation, and
all the arrangements of a campaign.

’ All these matters were discussed by the men
as they came /in to the rendezvous at Captain
Scott’s homestead, and it was settled that the
ex dition must have sulficient strength to en-
ab 6 them to besiege the outlaws in their strong—

,hold. For this pur )ose, runners were sent out
to bring in all the ghtmg men of the district,
leaders were chosen, and provisions and ammu-
nition were made ready. A strong party was

.sent on the trail of the stolen cattle, to capt re
them before they could be got out of tke y,
and the remainder made preparations for camp-
i in the hills.

“inst Chance took advantage of the delay
caused by these reparations, to keep his ap-

‘ pointment with .ate Crozier.

‘ He mounted his fleet mare, rode toward Cup-

, tain Crozier’s place, and met the object of his
search at the distance of a mile from the plan-
tation.

Kate was glad to see him, and did not scruple
tolet him know how glad she was. But there
wasanxiety mingled with her joy—fear for his

, safety, and distrust of' what his opinion of her

mi ht be, if he should know who she was.

9 young entleman,‘ came near to driving
all these thong ts out of her head. by the man-
ner in which he met her, and by his evident de-
light at seeing her. His tones and glances were

V A those of a lover, although his words were quite

commonplace, the ordinary greeting of a casual
acquitiutance. I t
» ‘ You seem to be strangely troubled to-day,”
he said, as their horses sauntered along, side by
side. “Has anything happened to displeaSe
you? If I could chase away that shadow, noth-
in would make me happier.”
ate looked ufiat him quite timidly, all her
sa‘ucineSS and se -reliance gone.

“Youmight chase it away,” she answered,
“ if you would promise not to join that expe-
dition of which you were speaking when we last
met.‘ '

‘f I want to please you, but there are special
considerations which drive me into that. I
surely ought to help my friend when is in
such trouble, and it woul be cowardly in ie to
hold back when all the country is rismg.”

“ If all the country is rising, there will Le

‘enough without you. You are not one of our
citizens, and have nothing todo with our affairs.
Why shouldg’ou risk your life, or bring yourself

' into trouble ’

“ Can you give me no better reason than my
personal convenience or safety?”
. “ How can I? If I should tell you what inter-
est I have in the matter,you would despise me.”
. “ Despise you? That would be impossible.
Whatever others may have done. I am sure that
there is no wrong in your heart.”

“ It you knew who I am, you would hate me.’2
‘ “How could I hate you, when I—I must say
it—I love you?”

Kate Crozier trembled in her seat, so that she
seemed likely to fall; but a stroug arm was

I ‘" around her in an Instant, upholding and sup-
 ' porting her, and she rested upon it as it it he}

Ion ed to her. v
‘ “gYou are saying this to please me,” she said.

‘ L

‘, VI... M,“ “M.-. flush“ ..

 

“With all my heart, I wish that i.) might
please you,” he replied.

“Perhaps you think that you love me, just
now; but you know so little about me, and you
have not learned who 1 am. And yet, I wish
that it might be true.”

The strong arms tightened around her, and a
pair of brig t eyes looked love into hers. The
beautiful more and spotted mustang acted as if
the .' understood it and kept step as they walked
slowly and closely together. V

“IL is true,” he said. “Whatever else may
be uncertain in this world, that is sure. I do
know who you are. Kate. I know that Wile
Simmes married Ella Crozier. I saw it recor -
ed in a Bible at Captain Crozier’s house, and, I
suppose that he is your uncle.”

“Oh, no!” sobbed Kate. as she dropped her
bridle and covered her face with her hands.
“ He is my father I” ’

The shock was a severe one to Arthur Lynn.
He had feared this, but had scouted the supposi-
tion and was not prepared to find it true. His
arm dropped from her side, but it again encir-
cled her the next moment, and he drew her
closer to him.

“Well, and what of it?” he said. “I own
that I hate lim, and I have reason to hate him;
but I love you. Whatever his faults may be.
you are not responsible for any of them, and
they are not reproduced in you. I am sorry
that you are not the daughter of a better man;
but I am sure that no better man had so sweet 8.
daughter. Look up, Kate, dear Kate, and tell
me that you love me.”

“ H'aw can I?" she murmured. “I must
leave you, and you must. forget me. Our paths
are so far apart that they can never come to-
gether. Whde you hate my father? But I
need not ask that. Every one hates him. Every
one must hate him."

“Every one has not the cause that l have to
hate and pursue him. But I can’t tell you what
my reasons are. Is it not enough that I love
you? It is not your fault that you are his
daughter, and I doubt if ou-love him as a child
might love its father. ow is it that you am
known as Kate Crozier, while his name is
Simmes?”

“ He gave me in charge of my uncle when I
was an infant. This was just after my mother’s
death, and it was not until then that my uncle
knew what a wild and wicked life he led. He
wanted to separate me from that life, and for
that much at least I ought to thank him. My
uncle Robert brought me up, and I have always
borne the name of Crozier. I believe that no
one knows, outside of our own ’family, that 1
have not a. right to that name, whatever people
may suspect.’ .

“No one need know it now. If on will
change your name to mine, you wil have a
name that will belong to you, and that you can’t
be robbed of."

“ You mustn‘t speak of that. I can have no
such hope. I am Wiley Simmes‘s daughter,
and that is what I must remain It was not
until 1 was grown that I was told who I was.
and since that, I have been made to feel it. I
have been given to understand that I am to
marry my cousin, Lee Crozier, and I am afraid)

'\

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mama. .

 

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«iv.__.

The White Wolf.

19

 

i‘. :itllzu nxuszt be my fate, though I dislike him
more and more everyday. My father insists upon
it, and means to carry his purpose into effect.”

“ Do you want to make me hate him more
than I hate him already? Do you moan to say
that he intends to force you into marriage with
a man you dislike? He can't do it, Kate. Unless
you are willing to man y your cousin, you can
never be made to marry him. No man has the
right to make his daughter miserable for life—
especiall such a man as Wiley Simmes, who has
forfei every right he ever possessed in this
world.”

The path which the two were then following—
or which their horses had taken of their own
will and pleasure-led through a piece of timber,
where the trees stood thickly on each side of the
way. Their overarching boughs made a grate-
ful shade and gave the lovers a sense of seclusion
which a pleasanter frame of mind would have
made very lgrateful to them.

‘ He sha never marry you to that man 1” 2x-
claimed Arthur Lynn, with the tone of one who
settles 8. out stion by authority. " Ilc has no
right over you whatever. I don‘t believe, Kate,
that you are really the daughter of \Viley
Simmes.”

A cry of rage came from the side of the path.
and three men rushed out of the thicket, two of
whom violently seized upon Arthur Lynn, and
the third snatched the bridle of Kate Crozier’s
horse. In an instant the young gentleman was
dragged from his mare, and his hands were tied
behind his back. __

CHAPTER XI.
SHEARING ran WOLF.

WHEN Arthur Lynn was able tolook about
and take note of his assailants, he perceived that
they were Indians, or white men in the guise of
Indians. He had had some ex rience among
the red-men of the plains, and here were indi-
cations which led him to su. t that these were
not genuine aborigines. his suspicion was
confirmed when he heard the voice of their
leader, who was a tall and stalwart man, with
fire hair.

'I‘ Is personage was in a state of violent ex-
citement. He stepged u to the young gentle-
man and angrily.- ook 's fist in his face.

“ And are you the one who wants to persuade
this girl that she is not the daughter of Wile
Simmes?" he said. “ Here is her father, to s
for himself, and to tell you that you lie.
Wiley Simmes; how do you like my looks?”

Arthur made no anSWer. , He had been look-
ing at Kate Crozier who sat motionless upon
her horse at a little istunce. Now he faced the
leader of his assailants. and bent upon him a
gaze in which cool contempt struggled with in-
tense hatred. '

“Have I no right over my daughter?” resum-
ed the white chief. “ Shall I never marry her
to a man of my choice? Perhaps you will pre-
Vent it. You look like it! I have a right over
you just now. and I will make you feel it. I
will put you where you will never care whether
she mar: ies or not.”

The young gentleman continued silent, and
answered the taunts at his antagonist only by a
look of defiance.

 

am

 

 

“ You cull yourself Last Chance, do you?‘
Whata fool you were to bring,r such a name into
this country! I will christcn you again, and
will change Last Chance to a Lost Chance.”

The white chief had pm pctratcd this poor
piece of wit on a previous UC( asion, and it may
he believed that he was proud of it.

“ Don’t you suppose that I know who you are?‘
Look mo in the face if you dare! Yes; your
eyes are like those of the others, and your 'fore
head and nose and chin are like those Lyons. I ‘
knew it, as soon as you came into the country,
before I had seen you, and now 1 am sure of it.
I can’t be fooled in one of those Lynns. You
are the baby, are you? You wore an infant at
your mother’s breast, the night I shot down
your father, when I made an end of Judge
Lynn. Yes‘ I own that I shot him. Incver
denied it. I swore that I would be revenged
upon him, and I kept my oath. And you the
baby, have come down here to hunt Wiley
Simmcst You have come to follow your two
brothers, and you shall follow them. They are
dead, and you shall be in the same fix in a few
minutes Hal do you wince at that?”

The young gentlcnmn had not winced; but a
flush of indignation had ovurspreud his counte—
nancc at tho momentmnd he had shuddercd as he
thought of the fate of his father and brothers.

“ Bring me a luriat, Abram," said the white
chief.

A rope of twisted hide was brought to him
and he dextrnusly knotted a slip-noose in an end
of it. In obedience to his further directions, the
captive’s horse, which had bccn stn ped by one
of the men, was brought down t e path and
Arthur Lynn was placed upon in!“ bac . As he
was mounted Wiley rimmcs threw the noose
over his neck. Three othcr other horses, which
had been concealed in the timber, were also I
brought out into the path, ready for their riders
to mount.

“ I will give you a chance,” said Wiley
Simmcs, as he drew the noose close to his cap-
tive’s neck. “ If you will say that you are not
one of those cursed Lyons, I will give you a
chance to prove your words true. Come, now.‘
What do you say. Isn’t your life worth a lie,
or do you mean to die game, like the rest of
them? He won’t speak. Abram, hand the rope
up over that limh.‘ -

As the white chici‘ handed the end of the lariat
to one of his men. the roceedings were inter-
rupted by a shriek from ate. ,

“ For od’s sake, don’t do that!” she excluim-'
ed. “ If you care for me, father, don’t murder
him!”

“ Who wants to murder him i" harshly replied
Simmes. “I only mean to tie him up, to weep
him out of mischief.”

“ You mean to hang him there. What has he
ever done to you. that you'should kill him?”

“If I see a rattlesnake in the path, coiled up
and ready to strike, shall I kill l-im, or wait un-
til he has struck his fangs into me! I would be 
afool if I shouldn’t kill him for the harm he'
means to do.”

“ Grant me one favor,” piteously entreated
Kate. “and I will never ask another 0t you. I
will do everything you wish me to do, if you
will let him live.“ . m ‘,

 

  

.4(.

x

,

The White Wolf.

 

“ If he should kill me and marry you, I sup-
pose you would be satisfied; but I mean to make.
sure that he shall do neither of tho so things.
Haul in on the lariat, Abram, and main) it fast
to the tree "

Kate endeavored to throw herself from her
horse, but was restrained by the man who held
her bridle. By the direction of the white chief,
she was then bound fast to the saddle, in a half—
faintlng condition, and her horse was led to a
position from which she was unable to SLO what
was going on.

/ The lariat was thrown over the limb of the

, tree, drawn close, and securely fastened to the
trunk. The White chief and one of his men
mounted their horses, and stationed themselves
near Kate, ready to ride away when the tragedy
should be ended. The third man held the bridle
of the beautiful brown mare, waiting for the
word to lead her away.

Arthur Lynn, seated on her back, felt the
noose tightening around his neck, and knew
that there was no hope of escape; but he was
Silent and defiant. This was to he the end of
his hopes. the ruin of his scheme of \‘cngcunJe.

Ha gave a last look tothe declining sun, a
last 1011: to Kate, whom he could scarcely see,
and invofu itarily cloned his eyes, as Wile
Siin u ‘6 '5 we tho word for the drop scene to fa
on his .lra m of life.

, ‘l‘oe wer was closely followed by the crack of
a :‘iils, an! of u. yell like the howl of a wild
beast. ,

, The man at the mare’s head spun around and
fell, with a. bullet in his brain, and the frighten-
ed animal sprung forward.

Bya frantic effort Arthur burst the bonds
that confined his arms, and threw up his hands
tograsp the rope over his head. In his shrug,—
gllles to secure his own safety, he saw but little of
i: a scene that followed.

Out of the forest rushed a creature all hair
and skins. A smokin rifle was in his hand,
and one hideous yell a ter another pealed from
his throat as he ran down the path.

“ The White Wolf 1” shouted the man who was
stationed with Simmes, and he stayed not upon
the order of his going, but put spurs to his
horse. and was out of sight in an instant.

'Wiley. Simmes uttered a cry of horror and
dismay, and made no ause to examine the in-
truder or to 0 Dose his intentions He seized
the bridle of ate’s horse, and galloped away

like mad. '

White Wolf stopped at the body of the false
Indian whom he had slain, and turned it over as
a wild animal might do.

“Wiley Simmes?” he muttered. “Wiley
Simmes? No- he is off. There he goes!
Whoop! .I will find him yet!"

He too rushed away, leaving Arthur Lynn

I struggling in the air. __

CHAP PER XII.
LED INTO A TRAP.

VWHEN the horse darted out from under him.
Arthur had succeeded in graspin the lariat
with his left hand, and then sei it with the
right. His neck was thus relieved of the strain,
and he was able to think and act. He drew him
self up, hand over hand, until be seated himself

 

 

on the stunt branch of the tree, where ii; ii:-
moved the noose, and looked about to  what
had happened.

He first noticed the false Indian lying dead on
the ground, and then saw White \Volf running
frantically down the path. yelling ashe went.
He also caught a glimpse of the frightened
riders, us they disappeared in the forest, and
heard the rapid hoof-beats of their horses. In
a few minutes there were no more sights or
sounds of life. -

Tllvn he dropped down from the tree, and
untied the lariat that was fastened at the
trun {.

“ I shall keep this,” he said, shuddering as he
looke i at it.

The brown more had been frightened into
starting off with the other loose horse; but she
was soon aware that her master was not on h‘ 1'
back and had sense enough to know that there
was something wrong. She came walking to-
ward him, and trotted up gayly when he whis-
tlei to her.

Arthur picked up his rifle, which had been
thrown on the ground wuen he was captured,
coiled the lariat and hung it on his saddle-bow,
and mounted the mere.

When he was on her back he felt like hiin~
self again, and reflected upon what had 0e-
curred.

It was evident that White Wolf had fired the
shot which killed the false Indian and that he
had frightened away the others. Wiley Simmes
had taken his daughter with him in his‘ flight,
no doubt. She had been bound to her saddle
and could not resist, and was helplessly led

awa .

Why should not Arthur follow, and rescue
her from the parent who was unfit to bavecon-
trol of her? He was but one man. and there
were still two of his enemies; but he was well
armed, and the odds did not daunt him.

He put spurs to his mare, confident of his
ability to overtake the fugitives if he could keep
them in sight.

He no longer hea rd the hoof-beats of their
horses; but the tracks were plain in the forest
path, and down the path he galloped at the
brown mare's best gait. ,-

When he had travaled at this headlong speed
until he thought that he ought to be near enough
to the fugitives to hear them, he paused and
listened; but he heard nothing. Examining the
path, and finding no tracks there, the conviction
was forced upon him that the had taken an-
other direction, and that he, in his furious haste.-
had passed the place where they had turned ofl'
without noticing it.

There was nothing for it but to go back and
search for the trail, and this was a task which
required time and patience. When he had
found the trail. it was difficult to keep it, as it
led through the forest, and he became painfully
aware of the fact that his pursuit was likely to
be unsuccessful.

After a while become out of the timber, and
found himself on an elevation from which he
could see a long distance over the rolling prairie.
Toward the west rose the hills, lofty, ru ed,
dark and forbidding. Between him an . the
bills were the persons whose trail he had been

    
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
    
  
  
    
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
  

b'fl ..__.

m.» h... -.... I... . .. "a.

W's, In," , .

 

     

UK-..

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a...

 

The White Wolf.

 

 

followin . They were so far away that he
could on y see three moving specks; but he was
sure that there were three specks, and could not
coubt who they were. He saw nothing of the
wild man, nor had he seen him since he began
his pursuit.

Arthur did not so pose that he would be able
to overtake Wiley S‘immes and his party before
they could reach the hills. That seemed to be
out of the question. Fleet as the brown mare
was, she could not gain on them sufficiently to
destroy the advantage of the start they bad.
But he could at least follow them, and could
make sure of the route they took, so. that he
anight seek them out when he should be able to

0 so. .

So he spoke to the brown mare, and she fairly
flew over the prairie turf, entering into the
spirit of the chase as if in full sympathy with
her master.

She kept up this rate of speed, while the hills
loomed up larger and more lofty, until Arthur
was near enough to the objects of his pursuit to
distinguish their shapes and to know that the
riders were two men and one woman.

They had been moving toward the hills quite
leisurely for some time, as if feeling that they
were safe from pursuit; but soon their horses
began to gallop. as if they had become aware of
the fact that they were followed.

Arthur Lynn let his mare go, at an increased
rate of speed, and gradually gained on the party
he was pursuing. But they were sure to gain

the hills, and to be lost in the recesses, before he.

could possibl overtake them. .Never mind:
he would to low the trail, and would track
them to their hiding-place, let the result be what
it might.

He was still on the plain when he lost sight of
them in the timber at the foot of the bills: but
he noted the place where they left the prairie,
and was sure that he could not miss it. He
knew it when he reached it, and knew that he
had seen it before. There was a plain trail
throu h the timber, which led u , through a
diflicu tpass, to the stron hold 0 Glade Oak
and Left Hand and their ollowers. It was the
same trail which Arthur had followed with
Jack Scott, when they tracked the marauders
vilhpdhad carried away the rangers wife and
c 1 .

The young gentleman held a debate with him-
self as he entered the timber, but without paus-
ing,‘as to the propriety of continuing the pur-
suit. It was not likel that he could accom-
plish anything, and Big t was coming on. But
there would be a moon, and the night would be
aprotection to him, rather than a hindrance.

'He concluded that he would go on some distance

further, and would then conceal his horse and
continue his search on foot, or would return, as
circumstances might suggest.

He went on, and the dusk grew denser. and
the ass was more narrow and dimcult. Sud-

den y he was brought to a halt by a hail, fol-
] lowed by a harsh, sarcastic laugh.

Looking up, he saw a face peering over a cliff,
a few yards in advance of him and to the right.
By the light of the rising moon he recognized
the painted face as that of his would-he mur-
derer of the forest, of Wiley Simmes.

 

“It is you, is it?” said the outlaw, with a

hideous grin. “Ididn’t think you would get
out of that scrape I left you in. As our luck
is so good, it won’t be worth while or me to
try that game again. Just give up, now, with-
out any fuss, and we will go easy with you.
Throw down your weapons, and your life shall
be spared."

Instead of acce ting this invitation, Arthur
turned his horse’s cad, in an attempt to escape
from the pass.

As he did so, there was an almost simultaneé '1 \

ous report of two rifles and h‘.‘ knew that their
leaden cont/ants had lodged in the head of his
horse.

It was a pitiful time for the beautiful brown
mare—a sad moment for her when he had de-
termined to enter the pass and follow that trail.
He jumped-to the ground as she sunk under him
and for a moment his thoughts were dive
from his own position by sorrow for her as he
saw her quiverin in the agonies of death. ’

Then he starte to run down the as to get
out of the way of more shots; but a s rill whis-
tle sounded at the rear, and he was confronted
by several men—Indians, apparently— who arose
from behind the rocks at each side of the we . *
As he paused and raised his rifle, the instant y
sunk back into their places of concea ment.

A moment’s ieflection told him that a trap ;
had been set for him: that those Indians might
have waylaid and killed him as he went up, if
they had chosen to do so. ,

It was plain that they had determined to take
him alive. He was equally determined that he
would not be taken alive.

As the men in front of him seemed to be in no
hurry to show themselves again he had begun
to walk slowly down the ass, when one of them
suddenly raised his head rom behind axock. r

Arthur leveled his rifle and fired, but without
efiect, and all of‘them s run out from their
places of concealment an ru ed toward him.

hey had succeeded in drawing his fire, and
from front and rear they hastened to closelin
upon him.

He drew his revolver and backed up against
the rocky wall of the pass, resolved to fight it
out to the last.

Before he could pull trigger, there came a
dropping fire of rifle-shots, which created the
greatest su rise and consternation among his
assailants. Igame fell silently in their tracks, ‘
others were yelling with agony, others were
groaning or cursing, others set their legs at
work to take them out of the reach of den er,
and others stood as if stupefled, so surp ’ by
the sudden shock that their powers were para-
] zed.
yA all from Texan throats told Arthur that he ~
had fiiends at hand, and he opened a rapid fire
with his revolver upon his remaining antago-
nists.

In a moment he was surrounded by Texans
and his hand was pressed in the hearty grasp of .
Captain Jack Scott. __

CHAPTER XIII.
A FINANCIAL nunormn.

» THE ealousy between the Kiowas and their ,  g 

white a lies/had reached such an extent, that it

 

    
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
    
  
   
  
 
  
   
    
   
  
    
  
   
 

Iceed

 
  

The White Wolf. ‘

 

mixed party was sent away in charge of the
cattle and horses that had been stolen from
Captain Scott's ranch.

Left Hand was convinced that the white men
had not only overreuched him and his people in
many ways, but had actually stolen a large por-
tion of the proceeds of their joint robberies, re-
turning to the bind much smaller amounts than
they had received. They only wanted positive
proof of the delinquencies of the white men. If
such proof could be obtained, they were deter-
mined that there should be a serious falling out
among rogues, whether honest men should get
their dues or not.

It was with this object that a. mixed party
was sent in charge of the stolen cattle, composed
of six white men and six Kiowas. A baker’s
dozen was completed by the leader of the party,
a half—breed known as Joe Jack, who was su

sod to belong to neither side. although Grla e
&k believed that he secretly favored the
whites. .

The route of the party wac to take them
abouta hundred miles toward the west, where
they were to meet Alvar Nunez. a Mexican en-
gaged in illicit trading across the Rio Grande,
who was to take the stolen cattl» into Mexico,
'where it would be out of the reach of any re-
clamation by the Texans.

The cattle were hurried forward with 111] pos-
sible speed, and the rendezvous was reached
without any serious accident or molestation.
Nunez was found at an old adobe building on’ a
deserted ranch, which he had lon used as his
headquarters on the Texan side of t e river.

The cattle and horses were numbered, and a
bargain was soon struck with the veteran con—
trabandist. Although the price agreed upon
was necessarily far elow the real value of the
stock, it was a considerable sum, sufficient to
arouse the avarice of the white men, and to

. cause the Indians to open their eyes in astonish-

ment. Not only was the herd more valuable
than an which had yet been collected on a
single rairi, but the price named by the Mexican
was lar ely in excess of any thing that Glade
Oak he returned to the band as the result of
his transactions.

Immediately the Kiowas put in their claim to
the sum, and insisted that it should he paid to

em. \ .—
To this the whites seriously objected, protest-
ing against the manifest in justice of such a pro-

m .
“Ari we not as honest as the white men?”
argued the Kiowas. “They have always re-
ceived every thing that has been paid for the
common benefit. and we have not objected. It
is our turn now, and we will manage the busi-
ness and collect the money. If there should be

- any more than is owing to us, we will pay it

over to the white men. In that way they have
managed the business for us, and in that way

' we intend to manage it for them.”

This seemed to be fair enough on the surface;
but the white men still objected. and the Kiowas
were finally induced to modify their demand.
and consent to an equal division.

_ Then it transpired that Nunez. who had
listeu‘d to the discussion with sublime indifler—
“once, had no money to pay them. That isto say,

4 w H \

 

he had nothing that the uncivilized mind could
apéireciate as money, and proposed to cancel his
in ebtedness as he had been in the habit of doing
when dealing with the white chief. by the ac-
ceptance of a Mexican banker at Matamoras,
drawn in favor of Ca tain Robert Crozier.

Extremely dissutis ed were the Kiowas with
this turn of afl’airs. It was simpl incredible to
them that such a drove of catt e and horses
could be paid for by a more scrap of paper, and
their suspicious noses smelt a cheat at once.
The interrogated Nunez at some length, and he
exp ained to them the nature of the transaction
as well as he could, telling them that the holder
of the drat' t would be entitled to receive the
mono on precenting it to Captain Crozier, who
woul collect the amount from the Matamoras
banker who was responsible for its payment.

At this the Kiowas retired for consultation,
and discussed the question with a vast amount
of jabber and gesticulation. The conclusion at
which they arrived was by no means satisfac—
tory to themselves; but they saw no other chance
to get their rights. If they were to receive no-
thing for the cattle but a scrap of paper, and if
the prospect of money depended upon the pos—
session of the scrap of paper. it was important
thatd the scrap of paper should be placed in their
him 5.

Such was the conclusion they announced to
Nunez and their white allies declaring their un-
alterable determination to have and to hold to
the paper until their accounts should be settled
and their money forthcoming.

To this determination the white men of the
party stubbornly opposed their own. They had
received their instructiom from Glade Oak. and

had no idea of letting such a sum of money slip-

out of their fin ers. They well knew that their
chance to ban lo the money would be gone if
the Indians should get possession of the pa r,
and they could not think of iving up i at
chance. Therefore they declare that the draft
must be given tothem. as they alone knew h0w
to use it, and so they had always successfully
managed that part of the business.

The white men would not have been so bold
and peremptory, if they had not believed them—
selves to be the stronger party, and if they had
not counted upon the assistance of Nunez and
his men. This last element was allowed in their
calculitions without sufficient reason, as it
appeared, as the Mexicans carefullystood aloof,
and refrained from espousing either side of the
vexed question. ‘

At last the discussion became so hot and heav
that the disputants were on the point of reso -
ing to their weapons for the purpose of main-
taining their claims, when the veteran contra-
bandist saw fit to step in as an arbitratm'.

He made a speech to the assembled wranglers,
in a. ‘argon w ich was a strange compound of
the panish and English languages. and some
Indian dialects. but which was sufficiently well
understood by those to whom he spoke},

He told them, in effect. that they were mak-
ing fools of themselves, that valuable time was
being wasted, and that he could not allow hirm
self to be hindered any longer by their quarrels.

He had noticed their leader. Joe Jack, and had

perceived that he had taken no part in the cons

  

..

 

 $.43

        

 

.—

 

 

The White Wolf. 28

 

trovcrsy. He believed Joe Jack, therefore, to
be a disinterested person and would proceed to
settle the question by placing the draft in his
hands, to be retained by him until a joint coun-
cil of the Kiowas and their allies should decide
what was to be done with it. Having deter-
mined on this course, he had nothing more to do
with the business, and washed his hands of them
and their quarrels. ‘

This demsion was received by the Kiowas with
a‘howl of indignation, and they vowed they
would not submit to it. The white men, on the
other hand, applauded its justice.

Joe Jack accepted the trust, and took the pa-
per, and Nunez, believin that he had performed
his duty to the best of his ability, rode away,
and ordered his hordsmen to get the cattle to-
gether, preparatory to driving them to the

i0 Grande.

But the Kiowas, acting under the orders of
Left Hand, had fully determined to get possession
of the money for that drove, or of its equiva-
lent. They drew off together, and their hostile
intentions were soon evident to the others, who
also selected a position and prepared for a con-

ict.

The first move of the enraged Indians was to
order Joe Jack to deliver to them the aper in
controversy, assuring him that it woul . be per-
ilous for him to refuse. This demonstration at
once drove the half-breed to the side of the white
men, who were prepared to support him in kee -
iug his trust, and who thus gained a good ri e
and a reliable fighter.

Joe Jack’s refusal brought the quarrel to a
crisis, and the first shot was followed by 9. vol-
ley from each side.

Having discharged their principal weapons,
the combatants did not wait toreload, but rush-
ed to close quarters, determined toflght out their
difficulty to the direct extremit .

Shots and blows and yells an shrieks filled the
air. and the melee resembled, as much as any-
thing else, a village dog-fight, to which all the
dogs in the neighborth had been invited. The
Mexicans, as they surveyed the scene from their
saddles, were excited and amused s t-ators,
heartily wishing that both sides woul whip.

The battle was of brief duration. It was de-
cided b the superior arms of the white men,
most 0 whom carried pistols; by the superior
strength which availed them at close narters,
and by the fact that Joe Jack naturafiy telt it
his dut to aid them when he was riven to
their si e. e

In fifteen minutes the affair was ended, and
every Kiowa was stretched dead ' upon the
prairie. But their antagonists had also sufl‘ered
severely, and only three white men, besides Joe
Jack, were left alive, and the half-breed was
badly wounded.

The survivors, hOWever, had won the fight,
and they crowed lustin over their victory.

CHAPTER XIV.
AN IMPORTANT ARREST.
“ THERE’S many a slip, ’twixt cup and lip."
“ When rogues _ (all out, honest men get their

due.”
These trite and true maxims were abundantly

 

verified by the conflict at Nunez Ranch and its
results. .

It had been a matter of the greatest import~
ance to the outlaws, considering the value of the
stolen property and the man from whom it had
been stolen, that the drove should be hurried
across the Rio Grande with the greatest possible
dispatch, as it might be expected that Jack
Scott and his neighbors would lose no time in
putting a party on the trail.

This was entirely lost sight of by the rival
claimants, when they were debating about the
mone which they were to receive for the cattle.
As unez told them, much valuable time was > .
lost, and they were throwing away, not only
the chances of getting the cattle safely into
Mexico, but the chancss of retaining their own ;
lives and liberties. ,

A strong party had been sent on the trail,‘by ‘
Captain Scott and his friends, as soon as it was ‘
possible to get a sufficient number together
l‘hese men Were all well mounted and well
armed, and it was more than possible that they.
might overtake the cattle-thieves. although the
latter had such an advantage in the start. ‘

The possibility was made a certainty by the
delay of the outlaws after they met Nunez. The
party of Texans came in sight of them justas
they had commenced their atl’ray, and whcn
nothiiig short of an earthquake would have pre-
ventm them from fighting their quarrel out.

Of course the Texans perceived that some-
thing had gone wrong with their enemies, and
were not long in reaching the conclusion that '
the were efighting among themselves. This ex‘
act suit the pursue-rs, who immediately _
m e preparations to surround the combatants ,, _>
and capture them all. They were in no burryto ._ “
attack, as it was probable that the longer they
waited, as affairs then were, the fewer they ’
would have to fight. They spread themselves
over the prairie, so as to draw a cordon around »
the scene of conflict, and to be ready to “ take a
hand ” as soon as the other players should tire of
the game. ' . .

Thus it was, that while the surv1vors were ex-
ulting over their victory, they suddenl dis-
covered that they had been surrounded y an
overwhelming force of Texans, who were bear-
ing down u ion them on all sides. r ‘

Some of t em attempted to make their escape
although esoape was manifestly impossible,‘an , ,
the result was that two of them were shot down. \ a.
The only white man who survived, ther ‘ v 
with the wounded half-breed, fell into the ands
of the Texans. ' V ,
The renter part of the force at once set out
tows”? the west, to recapture the cattle, which
had not yet got out of sight. Nunez and his
Mexicans, who had made an early discovery of
the approach of the Texans, had put their horses
to the to of their speed to get out of the way, 
leaving t e drove to shift for itself. The oatt e '
and horses, therefore. were overtaken, and “E.
driven back without difficulty. , .

In the mean time, those who had not gone on; > '
this errand had been examining the prisoners
and searching them. The search of co Jack
brought to light the draft in favor of Captain .5
Crozier, which occasioned considerable wpnder. 1.
and excitement among the Texans. in  . 

   
    

  

r 'evrdent from his declarations that

The White Wolf.

 

The leader of the pursuing party was Squire
Abel Winder, a' gentleman who was highly
esteemed by his neighbors, and who was possess-
ed of a fair share of intelligence. As soon as
he understood the nature of the draft, be per—
ceived that there was a point to be made for the
cause of law and order. It had been more than
sus acted that Captain Crozier had assisted the
out aws in some of their operations, and here
was proof to that effect, nerding only a little
positive evidence of his own knowledge and in—

ntion, to connect him with it beyond the pos-
sibility of mistake.

Squire Winder proposed to get this evidence
from his prisoners, and for that purpose neS<
tioned them sin ly, telling them that their ives
would be 5 ar if they would confess all they
knew abou the matter, and explain Captain

. Crozier’s connection with the cattle-stealing
business. ‘

The white man was stubborn in his refusal to
do anything of the kind,

With Joe Jack the s uire had better success.
That individual knew t at he deserved death for
his crimes, and was glad of an opportunity to
sli8 his neck out of a noose.

,4 1) condition that his life should be s ared, he
told all he knew about the draft that ad been
found ugm him, and the dispute that had risen
concern g it. He also stated that this was not
the first draft which had been received in that
way, drawn in favor of the same rson and for
the same purpose. Although be ad but little
comprehension of the nature of exchange, it was
yment for
a the cattle which the outlaws ha run off into
Mexico had [granny been receivad in such
drafts, which 11 been negotiated b Captain
Crozier, and there could be no doubt t at the ne-
otiatgr knew how and for what purpose the

I rafts had been received.

‘.‘ That settles it, boys,” said the uire. “ We
have got the thing dead on Captain rozier now,
and he must be arrested.”

The wounds of Joe Jack were cared for, and
the other prisoner was securely bound, and both
men were sent back in charge of the party which
waste drive back the recaptured cattle. uire
Winder and three of the rangers started 0 in
another direction. intendinur to take the shortest
route to Captain Crozier’s plantation.

In course of time they reached their destina-
tion, and found Captain Crozier at home. He
had just returned from the journe which he
had taken in accordance with the irections of
his brother-inlaw. and had found the household
in a state of confusion and excitement, conse-

’ quent upon the disappearance of Kate. The
youn lady had g‘one out to ride, and had not
since u seen or eard of. Search had been

« 4. made, but‘hadfailed to reveal any trace of her.

On. thin Crozier tried to treat the disappear-

ance i htly sa ' g that she had probably gone
to visit§a frihndflgnd would return when it suit—
ed her to do so. '

In reality, however. he could not doubt what
.had become of her. and her absence and its cause
and manner threw him into the deepest dejection.
He shut himself up in his own room. refusing to
see any person 'or to transact any sort of busi-
[1985.

 

He was in this stupor and seclusion when
Squire Winder and his men called upon him.
He wanted to refuse to see them; but they were
men who were not to be refused and they forced
their way into his presence. H’e was surprised
at their visit, and his surprise was followed by
anxiety, as he quickly perceived that their man-
ner was not altogether friendly.

“ I would like to know whether you can give
me cash for this paper,“ said the squire, as he
showed the draft which had been taken from
Joe J nck.

As soon as Captain Crozier perceived what. it

was. the blood rushed to his face, and he hung ,

his head in confusion.

“ What is it?” he stnmmcred. “Where did
yo 1 get that? Vtht does it mean?"

“ It appears to bc a draft,” replied Winder,
“ drawn in your favor, by Alvnr Nunez, or some
Mexican merchant or banker. by whom it is ac-
cepted. I don’t suppose it is necessary to tell
you what it is for.”

“But I know nothing about it. I never saw
it before. It is none of my business.”

“ That Won’t do, captain. I am as sorry to
catch you in this scrape as you are to be caught
in it; but I must do my duty. You have been
suspected for a long time of being engaged in
this sort of business, and now We have the proof.
This draft is for Jack Scott’s stolen cattle. The
man who helps a thief to dispose of stolen goods
is as bad as the thief, and on that ground I ar—
rest vou.” .

“ Arrest me? You have no right. You can“.
Prove anything against me. I shall expect a

air trial,” replied Captain Crozier.

“ You shall have as fair a trial as white men
can give you. As for the proof, we have got
that down to a nail. You may get ready, Cap-
tain Crozier, and come with us.’

Crestfallen and quite broken down, the old
gentleman was led away, and was taken to the
camp of the rangers, who were hesieging the
outlaws at their stronghold in the hills. The
rescue of Last Chance had been followed by a
reconnoissance up the pass, which had shown
that the position of the enemy was a. parently
impregnabla, and the assailants has settled
down to contrive ways and means to get at the
outlaws or to starve them into a surrender.

“Just as I expected,” said Captain Scott,
when Abel Winder reported the result of the
expedition and the capture of Crozier. “ I was
sure that he was mixed up in the business, and
am glad that we have got the proof. I am in-
clined to think, squfre, that we may be able to
draw some important facts out of him, if we
will give him a private examination, and offer
him some inducements to tell the truth.

This was agreed to, and Last Chance, at his
request. was allowed to be present at the ex-
amination. ’

They could not have found Captain Crozier
in a better mood for wringing a confession from
him. He was com letely disheartened, and his
feelings were in sue a state that they could be
easily worked upon by a skillful hand.

Jack Scott spoke to him kindly, and struck at
the root of the matter at once. , ’ .

“There is no use in talking about this busi-
ness, Captain Crozicr ” be said. “ The proci.I

 

  
 
   
    
   
   
 
    
   
  
   
    
   
  
  
   
    
 
  
  
   
  
   
  
    
    
   
  
   
   
   
    
  
 
   

 

         
    
  

    

h... m ...y.«..«

I

. .

r.

The White Wolf. 95

 

that we have is very stron r, and can’t be 0t
over. But we know that rlade Oak is Wiey
Sinnnes, and that Wiley Simmes is your bro-
ther-in—law. Some of us suppose that you may
have been imposed upon, that he has made a.
tool of you, and that your guilt is not near
as great as his. We are disposed to give you
every chance in our power, to deal as kindly
with you as we can. The best thing that you
can do, therefore, will be to make a clean
breast of it, and to tell us all you know about
the business, from beginning to end.”

“ I am ready to do so,” replied Crozier. “I
wanted to do it long a To, but have held back
for V daughter’s sake.’

“ our daughter?” exclaimed Last Chalice.
“ What daughter?”

“ Kate Crozicr."

“ Is she not the daughter of Wiley Simmes?”

“ She is not. I will explain it all, and then
you may judge me. When I became acquainted
with Wiley Simmes, and when he married my
sister, I supposed him to be a man of good
character. t was not until al'tcr the death of
my wife that I learned what sort of a life he was
leading, and had been leading for a long time.
Before this, however, there had been an event
which had ruined me for life. The nature of
that event concerns noone here, and I had rather
not go into particulars. I had not really been
guilt of a crime, but the proof was such that I
can] not show my innocence. That proof was
in the hands of iley Simmes, and he used it
mercilessly. Growin out of the same affair
were financial difllcu ties, which threatened to
sweep away the labor of years and leave me
)enniless. Thus it came about that Wiley
‘immes was the master, not only of my reputa-
tion, if not my life, but also of my fortune, and
I gradually became his slave.

‘His wife left him a son, and my wife left
me a. dau hter. When both were infants, he

roposed t at his child should take the name of

rozier, and should be brought up as lllV son,
because he wished the boy to inherit all his fa-
ther’s gains, but none of his father’s re utation.
He also pro sed that m dau hter s ould be
knownas t 9 child of iley immes, in case
there should he an question of her
I cannot tell you 0w humiliating t is was to
me, how I hated it, and how I dreaded the con-
sequencesyit might bring. But I was in his
power and was obliged to submit. He also
compelled me to submit to many other things
that were hateful to me, though e never forced
me into an of his lawless enterprises. On three
occasions have been obliged to negotiate drafts
for him, similar to that which Mr. Winder
showed me. There was nothing wrong on the
face of them, and he insisted that they could not
bring me into difficulty. He ave me notice of
this draft, and promised tha he would never
trouble me with another. It is likeiy that he
will keep that promise.”

“ Do you know where your daughter is now?”
asked Last Chance. '

“It was the part of his programme that my
daughter should become the wife of his son.
That was always his intention. I suppose that
she is in his possession now, and that his purpose
is to marry her to his son. It would have been

Tfi"

arentageu

 

better for me, as ,well as for her, if I had broken)
loose from him and defied him long ago; but I
suffered the deception to be kept up, and the
result is killing me.” i
“ Anothe r question. My name is Art-bur ‘ ' -
Lynn, and I am the son of Judge Lynn, formerly
of Kentucky. 1 suppose you haw heard of him.
If so, you can (guess the object that. has brought
me to ’l‘exas. ‘an you tell me what has become 
of In two brothers?” I
“ can tell you nothing of my own knew-
ledge,” replied Captain Crozier. “ Wiley ~ 
Simmes has told me that they are dead.” a
Captain Crozier went on to explain his deal-
ings with Simmes, and the complications into
which the latter had led him; but nothing more
of special importance was elicited. V
‘—— ' \ , . x J
CHAPTER XV. ,
INTERNAL nxssnnsmns. \ 
Aarnua LYNN had been correct in his
supposition that Wile Simmes hastened to N .
reach the hills with 'ate Crozier because he 4"
believed that he was pursued by White Wolf.
That belief continued until he came to the head
of the pass, where he briefly informed the guards
of what had happened. The lookouts, however,
soon put an end to his fears, byvannouncmg that
the person in pursuit was not bite Wolf, buts
stranger. His own observations soon convinced
him that it was Arthur Lynn. 
Having sent Kate to the camp, in charge of ‘ ' I:
her cousin, he made preparations to entrama
solitary pursuer, with the result which has n _;
noted. ‘ '
The rescue of Arthur Lynn, and the facts
which it developed, introduced some very serious ‘. ' ’
complications into the affairs of Wiley Simmes
and the rest of the out-laws. v .
Jack Scott had gone up the pass with a strong \ 1,,
force, for the purpose of reconnoitering the '
position of the enemy and possibly surprising
them, and had been just in time to save his
friend from capture. 4 f
Without waiting for any explanations, he had "
rushed up the pass on the heels of the fugitives,
ho ing to follow them in and capture the camp
he ore the rest of the outlaws could rally to the .1
assistance of their comrades. I ‘ I V ‘
In this attem t he was nearly successful, and '  .
he would )JrOba ly have secured a positicnfit v‘
the head 0 the pass, it the Kiowas had not been ~
more on the alert than their white allies were.
The ran to the defense and reached the point .
of anger just as the exans were about to.
overpower the few white men who had turned _ _. 5
to fight them. . '2
Captain Scott soan rceived that the head of
the pass, if not an a olutely impregnablepo- 3
sition, conldbedefended by a small force against
any body of men he could bring toattack it. “
He drew his men off, without having suffered 1
any serious loss, and established his camp where ‘ 
it would effectually block up the pasaage. ~ ‘ 
The outlaws sent out scouts to inquire into the r
meaning of this demonstration, and they re ’ ‘7
rted that the" stron hold was besieged bya ‘,_,
urge force of Texans, w 0 had evidently “ come 5:," .
to stay,” and who‘ were hourly receiving noose,» ,
sions to their numbers. ' . . \- ‘ .v
This intelligence was serious indeed, and put

 

 

 
  
  

 

 

   

26 The White Wolf.

 

a damper upon the spirits of all, especial] the
Indians, who saw nothin but danger an dis-
aSter in store for them. hey had so long been
committing their depredations with impunity,
and had so long been accust imed to nothing but
sue-cam, that they could not contemplate with
any sort of serenity the idea of being besieged,
, moped up, starved out, and probably extermi-
nated at the last. Glade Oak had no patience
with their clamorou; complaints. and told them
that they had brought the calamity upon them—
selves, that they had insisted upon just such a
raid as that upon which he had lel them, that
he had warned them of the consequences, and
that they could not blame hiru if the result
should prove to be what he had told them it
would be.
' After a while, all settled down to consider
the matter calmly, and to make the has. of the
situation.

It was believel to be certain that the be-
seigers would be unable to get into the valley, so

lon as the head of the pass should be defended,
am? the question was reduced to one of ability
to stand asiege. The outlaws were well sup-
plie'l with ammunition, and they were in no
fear of falling short of provisions, as they had a
, few cattle. and could fall back on their horses
as a last resort. It was true that there was lit—
tle grass in the vallJy for maintaining the stock,
but the hoped that the Texan force would
gradual y disperse, and dually abandon the at-
tempt, before their resources should be entirely
exhausted.

'l be white chief seemed to take little interest
in these discussion-i, to be quite indifferent to
questions of siege or defense. He was gloomy
and irritable, going restlesst about with a cure-
worn and cast-do vn appearance, which was

nite out of keeping with his usu'd character.

t was the resurrection of White Wolf that
chiefly troubled him, and on this subject be con-
versel freely with Sam Peters, the only man
who was really in his confidence.

“ I don’t understand it at all,” he said, “ and
it bothers me mightily. You saw] that creature
when we chasei him along the ledge, and when

he {lumped oil! the cliff. That wasiu plain sight,
rig t before the eyes of several of us, and there
-’ 'can’t be any doubt that he made the jump. It

must have illed him. How can it have failed
to kill him? When he made his appearance on
the ledge up yonder. and carried on? that

woman and her child, I was sure that it was his.

ghost. You know that the guards would never
have allowed him to pass up from below, and it
is certain that no mertal man could have got
there and got away from there as he did.”

“ Are you sure that there ain’t some way of
gittin’ down the clifl? or through it?” asked
oPeters.

“Through it! Aghost mi ht pass throu h
solid rock, I suppose, but‘not ing iving cou d.
I have examined the ledge carefully, and there
15' not as much as a track for a squirrel up the

‘ chit. A ghost can go anywhere, Sam, and
nothing but aghast could get up there. But
[when he came upon us in the timber. where
we were stringing up that young hound from
Kentucky, I must admit that he gave me a
shock. He yelled like a live man then, and shot

 

like u live man, too, laying Bill Weathers out as

stiff as a shingle. I don’t know but a ghost

might give a yell; but whoever heard of a ghost
7

ilrinrr a rifle?

“ (ghost or no ghost,” replied Peters, “ he

clled like a live critter when we saw him on the
edge that night. If a ghost can yell as he did
then, and carryofi awoman and a child, he
surely mought yell out in the timber, and fire a
rifle, too.“

“That is true; but I saw him in the daylight,
and who ever heard of ghosts showing them-
selves in the dayli ht?"

“ I can’t settle t ething, old man. I wouldn’t
like to feel that be was arter me—that’s all.”

“ I hope you have got out of the notion, Sam,
that I was trying to play a game on you, when
the woman was lost. "

“ Yes, I have got out of that notion. 1 don’t
see how you could have made anything by it,
and,” you ain’t apt to play games that don’t
pa .

“ That's a sensible way of putting it," mut—
tered Simmes, as he Walked away to nurse his
moodiness else where.

Kate Crozier seemed to share in the general
depression, bee luse she was supping sorrow
enough of her own. The lariat with which she
had been bound to the saddle had chated and
hurt her so, that she could hardly stand erect
when she was allowed to dismount. She was
also mourning for the loss of Last Chance.
Whatever it might have been that had fright-
ened away Wile Simmes and his followers. she
knew that they ad left her lover struggling in
the air with a noosa around his neck, and she
had no reason to hope that he might have
escaped the fate that was intended for him.
Her anxiety for herself, which would otherwise
haVe absorbed her, was quite lost in the con-
templation of this calamity. '

It was very ungraciously, therefore, that she
received her cousin when he came to meet her
and escorted her to the camp. She was not sur-
prised to see him there, and the fact of his pres-
enco added to her horror of the pur for

[which she had been brou ht into the hil .

She refused to take his and, or even to speak
to him, and her contemptuous conduct aroused
his hot temper, until he was foolish enough to
taunt her with her lovo for Last Chance.

“ I know what is the matter with you,” he
said. “You have fallen in lovo with that up-
start stranger who won the race at Redwood.
But you had better forget him as soon as lyou
can, for my uncle has laid a trap to catch im
as he Comes up the pass.”

“ As he comes up the pass?” eagerly exclaimed
Kate. “ Is be coming up the pass?”

" Yes. I saw him following you across the
plain, and was sure of the man. He can’t help
falling into the trap as he comes up the pass,
and there will soon be an end of him.”

Kate could not repress a cry of delight. If
her lover had escaped the death that threatened
him in the timber, he must bear a charmed lite,
and she could hardly fear any further danger
for him.

The subsequent proceeding puzzled her. There
was so much shooting down the pass, that she
was sure there must be more than one in the

 M, _- ..

 

a. . rah—xi- v  mm

The White Wolf.

 

trap. Then there was such an alarm and up-
roar in the camp, and such strong evidence of
heavy fighting at the head of the pass that the
conclusion was forccd upon her that those who
set the trap had been beaten at their own game.

Nothing further of importance occurred until
the next day.

The operations against the outlaws’ strong-
hold had assumed the character of a Sli‘gc, and
the besiegers sent in a flag of trure, offering to
exchange two prisoners, known as J oo Jack and

_ Arkansas Pete, for Captain Scott’s wife and

child.

This was the first intimation which the out-
laws had had of the destruction of the party
which had been sent oi? in charge of the cattle,
and it caused the greatest consternation among
them. As Scott’s wife and child were not in
their possession, they could not make the ex-
changes. But Glade Oak was unwilling that
this fact should be known, and he sent back the
flag of truce as it had come, with a. defiant mes-
sa e to the assailants.

‘he Kiowas, however, were by no means sat-
isfied with the state of affairs. Thcy felt sure
that the lost party would never have been over-
taken and destroyed it there had not been dis-
sensions amogg themselves, and that those dis-
sensions must iave been caused by treachery or

cheating on the part of whites. Tbcy were

' anxious to learn the truth of the matter, from

the prisoners in the hands of the Texans, and
thought'that it might be possible for them to
make terms for themselves with their adver-
saries, by acting independently of Glade Oak
and his followers.

With these views they sent a deputation, com-
posed of Left Hand and a prominent warrior,
to the camp of the Texans.

Captain Scott and his friends soon netrated
the design of the red envoys. and f the flame
that was already burning in their hearts, and
gave them all the information they had to give,
concerning the recapture of the cattle and the
contest at Nunez’s Ranch. They also permitted
them to converse freely with the prisoners, and
thus completed the work which had been so well

n.

file Jack and Arkansas Pete, who were
thoroughly indignant at Glade Oak because of
his refusal to listen to a proposition for their ex-
change, and Were stimulated by certain hopes
held out by their captors, told all the knew of
the system of cheating which had ong been
practiced by Glade Oak, and of the‘ rotest of
the Kiowas in Joe Jack‘s party, which ad led to
their slaughter and the capture of the survivors.

When the indignation of Left Hand and his
companion had been fairly workcd up, the lead-
ers of the Texans heldum interview with them,
at which promises were made, and inducements
WPI‘B held out, the tendency of which was to in-
spire the Kiowas with hopes of their own safe-
ty, and to impel them to seek the destruction of
their white allies. In this temper, and with
purposes which will hereatter become apparent,
they returned to the valley.

CHAPTER XVI.
TEE CAPTURE or warm wow.
I! has been /noted that Arkansas Pete was so

 

 

angry with Glade Oak, bccanse of thn ('avullcl‘

' manner in which the latter had treated the pro—

position for an exchange of risoncrs, that, he
was ready to reveal to the Ixiowas the style in
which thoy had been cheated and ill-treated by
their white allics. He went further than this;
in consideration of" the promise that his life
should be spared hc told the leaders of the Tex-
ans of a secret pass, through which the outlaws
might be able to escape if they should be driven
to extremity. It was true that they would be
obliged to leave their animals in the valley, as
that means of cgrcss was impracticable for
horses; but it was to be supposed that they
would even prefer to be “ set afoot "—tcrriblo
as that alternative was to them—rather than
lose their lives.

This information was of the greatest im-
portance to the Texans, who were glad of an
opportunity to complete the blockade of their
enemies, if not to force their way into the val-
ley. They cusily persuaded Arkansas Pete to
guide them to the pass, and Captain Scott and
Arthur Lynn, With a detachment of rangers,
went in Search of it.

Their guide led them through the roughest
and wildcst part of the hills, where their route
was crossed by clill‘s uud seamed by ravines, so
that it was with diliiculty that they were able
to make any progress.

It was late in the afternoon, therefore, 81.
though they hurl started at an early hour in the
morning, when thcy reached a narrow and dim-

cultopening‘ bctwccn two clifl‘s. which Arkansas"
Pete declared to be the outlet of the pass to

which he was to guidc thou). .

They had sat down to rcst awhile, before at—
tempting to explore i s intricacies, when
they were startled by a strange noise above
them.

The noise came from the top of a hill, at the
foot of which they were resting. It was not
high, but wns quite steep. nearly smooth, and
with no growth on the side but small and scanty
bushes. The noise was at first a snarling. com-
plaining,r cry, as of mine wild animal in dis-
trcss; then some stones and gravel came rat-
tling down; then tbcro was a breaking, crush-
ing sound, as of some heavy body tumbling
down the declivitv.

Looking up, they saw that wild creature
which had twice appeared to Arthur Lynn—
once when he was accompanied by his riend
Scott, and once When his neck was in danger
after his capture by Wiley Simmes. It was
White Wolf, who had been spying about to see
who and what the intruders were. and who had
missed his footing, and was rolling down the

hill.

As he fell, he grasped blindly at the stunted
bushes on the way; hilt they hardl retarded
his career, and he came rolling and oundering
down, keeping up the snarling],1 complainin 1*
noise which had first attracted t c attention 0
the rangers. until he came to a littlejedge, be-
low which the rocks curved inward, leaving a
clear fall of about twenty feet. _

He made a brief stoppage at the ledge, cling-
ing to the rock for a few seconds, and then
drop ed helplessly upon the ground below.

“ e have got him now, Chaney," said Jack

    
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
    
   
    
   
  
 
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
    
 
   
   
  
   
  
   

  

 
       
     
   

31;, ‘ :..

u/‘

28 The White Wolf.

 

Scott, “ and we must find out what is the mat-
ter with him.”

The fall had stunned the creature, and he lay
motionless upon the ground. J ark Scott and
his friend bent over him, waiting for anima—
tion' to return, and their companions stood
around, wondering and questioning.

White Wolf had had a severe fall, but had
sustained no serious damage, beyond a few
scratches and bruises, and the stunning blow
from which he presently recovered.

When his eyes were 0 en to his situation, he
suddenly sprung to his set, and endeavored to
escape: but his hurts had weakened him, and
he was in the grasp of strong arms. Jnck Scott
and Arthur Lynn held him firmly, at the same
time speaking to him kindly, endeavoring to rcL
strain and soothe him. Their elforts were
effectual, and he soon became calm, and replied
to their well-meaning words.

“ Wiley Simmes? Wiley Simmes!” he mut—
tered. “No; he is not here. But I will rind
him yet. Let me go and look for him?”

“ W’hat have you to do with Wiley Simmes,
poor fellow?" asked Scott, stroking him as he
would a dog. “ What has Wiley Sinnnes done
to you? Tell us what is the matter."

“ Wiley Simmes? I was his White Wolf, and
he chained me up and tortured me. But it is
my turn now. Let me go and find him.”

“ You shall go with us. We are all going to

arch for Wiley Simmes, and we will help you.

all us what he has done to you. Do you know
who on are?”

“ o. I have been mad; but I am not mad
now—not just now. I have never hurt her.
She has been good to me, and I have been good
toher. I won‘t hurt you, if you are good to
me; but I will tear the heart out of Wiley
Simmes. See! I wear his chain, so that I must
remember him. It hurt me; but she has cured
the hurts, and has tied it up, so that it hurts me
no more.”

“She! Who is she?” askel Captain Scott.

“ Tennie,” replied White Wolf, smiling as he
spoke the name.

“ Termiel Who is Tennie? Where is she?
For God's sake tell me what you mean!”

“She is my sister, and she is nod to me. I
stole her from Wiley Simmes on his vultures.
There s e is!"

As bite Wolf spoke, he inted toward a.
ledge, high up in the faceo a cliff, where a
woman could be seen standing, waving a hand-
kerchief and holding up a child. It was Ten—

nessee Scott, who had recognized her husband,

even at that distance, and was making eflforts
to attract his attention.

“It is Teuniel It is my dear wife!” fran-
tically exclaimed Captain Scott. “ She is alive
and safe! But how did she ever get up there?”
Howrcan we get to her? Will you show us the
wow

White Wolf looked earnestly in the face of
the o ful husband for a fewmoments, and then
nod his head. I

“Come!” he said. and trotted away toward

the cliff closely followed by Captain Scott and

Arthur lLynn.
It was a difficult goth that they trod in as-
cending the clifl, an the route wasatedious

 

one; but the finally crawled in at a hole in tho
face of the c ifi’ where White Wolf rolled swagr
a large stone which covered the entrance to the
cavern in which he had concealed his charge.

The meeting between Jack Scott and his rc-
covured wife and child was more than joyful—
it was rapturous. This was so infinitely better
than the ranger had expected or dared to ho
for, that his heart was full of gratitude, and E:
felt, at the moment, that he could easily forgive
all his enemies. When Teunie told him how she
had becu snatched from the rasp of the out-
laws, he absolutely embraced White Wolf, and
testified his thanxl‘ulness so lainly that even
that wild creature underst it an was over-
come by it. He had so tenderly cared for the
mother and her child, supplying their wants by
making forays upon the cam of the outlaws
that Tennie declared that she ad had nothing
to trouble her, except her anxiety for her hus-
band. Shc nu ht have left the cavern, during
the absence of bite Wolf, but feared that she
might lose herself or fall into the hands of the
outlaws, and concluded that she had better re-
main where she was, hoping that the mind of
her protector would gradually clear, and that
he Would return her to her friends.

As it would be impossible for the Texans to
reach their camp that night, they concluded to
occupy the cavern until morning, and both Jack
Scott and Arthur Lvnn endeavored to make
friends with Whit-3 Wolf, seeking to draw him
out and to learn something of his history.

But neither of them could do as much with
him as 'l‘cnnio could, and she was only able to
induce him to repeat the statement that he was
Wiley Simmes’s pet White Wolf, that he had
been chained up and tortured, and that 'he
w )uld tenr out the heart of \Viley Simmes and
give his flesh to the buzzards.

“ I have a wild suspicion,” said Arthur Lynn
to his friend, in a whisper. “ There is no reason
for it, I know, but it has struck me as possible
that this poor fellow may be one of my brothers. ”

“It is possible,” replied Scott; “ but you
mustn’t build anything on that.”
“ I won’t. I mean to sleep on it. If it should

grove true, there is another score for Wiley
immes to settle."

In the mornin , when they started toleave the
cavern, White olf seemed to be unable tocom-
prehend the condition of affairs, and earnestly
protested that Tcnnie should not be taken away
from him.

“ But you are going with us. my rfellow,”
said Cu tain Scott, “ and we wi l hunt for
Wiley immes, and you shall give his flesh to
the buzzards.”

White Wolf was 38. " ed with this promise,
and was easily persu to accompany his new
friends.

The detachment in charge of Arkansas Pete
had found the pass to which the guide was to
lead them, and were loft there, with orders to
blockade the outlet against the enemy, and per-
haps to advance into the valley: if circumstances
should justify such a move. he others return-
ed to the camp. _ ’

At the camp the wild mountaineer was at last
brought to comprehend the true state of affairs.
When it flashed upon his bewildered brain that

 

spk.

sf . r. L;;..,......_.
r
. .

.%«.__fl- «4.... H-«t‘. .4
y .
v

\

flcient force 0

The White Wolf.

29

 

the Texans were hos-tile to Wiley Simmes and
his vultures. and that they only wished to get
Into the valley to make an end of them, he gave
them to understand that he knew of an opening
through which they could enter without any
hindrance.

This was joyful news to the Texan leaders,

I and Jack Scott and Arthur Lynn at once set

out under his guidance, accompanied by n. suf-
their friends.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE VENDETTA CLOSED.

WHITE WOLF led the Texans up a rugged
and difficult route, and by a. narrow passage
through the rocky barrier that separated them
from the outlaws’ valley, until he rolled away a
stone at the end of the passage, and let in the
light of day upon them.

Passing through this opening, they found
themselves on a ledge overlooking the valley——
the same upon which Wiley Simmes had placed
Tennie Scott and her child for safe keeping, and
from which the wild mountaineer had stolen
them away.

‘ From this outlook they had a view of the en-
tire camp of the outlaws, and of a strange but
Dohaltogether unexpected scene which was just
then being acted, .

Wilfiy Simmes had objected to the visit of
Left and and his companion to the Texans;
but he could not have prevented it, unless by a

- fight with his allies, and that was a move which

he was not disposed torisk.

When they returned, he could easily perceive
that his fears of ill results from that interview
had not been groundless. The Kiowas had no
explanations to give to their white allies, no
report to make of what they had seen and
heard. On the contrary, the kept themselves
aloof from Sinunes and his to lowers, collecting
In knots and discussing their affairs among
themselves, and their demeanor was certainly

' unfriendly, if not absolutely hostile.

The white chief believed that he understood

" the meaning of these proceedings, and that they

foreboded the downfall of himself and his
friends. But he was not a man to seek surren-
der or compromise, and be determined to fight
out the contest to the last, against all his enc-
mies.

He called the white men together, and ex-
plained to them the position of affairs, and from
that time forward there were two camps
3n the ’valley, the occupants of each hold—
mg no communication with the other. Both.
parties were constantly on their guard against
each other, and the - rupture was of such n.
nature that open war might be expected at any
moment. '

Affairs did not come to a crisis until after the
Secret pass had been blockuded,‘and it was while
White Wolf was leading the party up the clillTs
that the conflict began.

Simmes and his followers perceived that the
Kiowas were forming themselves for battle, and
that their leaders were haranguing them, in or-
der to bring their spirits up to the flghtin
pitch. The white chief knew the men “it
Whom he had to deal. and believed that he and

 

and at the same time to guard the head of the
pass against the Texans, provided that nothing
should occur to ugset his calculations. Accord-
ingly, he posted is men so that they could re-
ceive the attack with little damage to them-
selves, while their new enemies would be com-
pelled to fight in the open ground.

He had gone to the rear of this position with
his son, in order to But Kate Crozier in a place
of safety, when t e Kiowas advanced, run-
ning and yelling. after the fashion, of savage
warriors.

Such was the state of affairs when the party
led by White Wolf came out upon the ledge and
looked down into the valley. .

As soon as Arthur Lynii caught sight of Kate
Crozier, and recognized Wiley Simmes and his
son, he was anxious to descend the clifl’and
take part in the afl‘ray which was about to
begin. But he was held back by Captain Scott,
who persuaded him to wait for further develop-
ments.

“ Let them fight a while," said the ranger.
“ lVe don’t reall care much which side whips.
The more they kill of each other, the fewer will
he left for us to kill.” _

Although the Keiituckian suffered himself to
be thus persuaded, White Wolf was not to
he so easily restrained. The sight of Wiley
Simmes had raised a. tempest in is breast, and
he was fairly frantic in his desire to get at his
enemy. ‘ ,

He slipped away from the Texans, and ran.
with the a ilit of a wild animal, down the
steep path t t ed up to the led , e. As the hall
was thus opened, the Texans ma 0 haste to fol-
low him.

At the foot of the cliff he was met by Ike
Crozier, who started back in amazement at the
sight of this frightful apparition. The next
moment White Wolf rushed upon him, and
buried a knife to its hilt in his breast.

Wiley Si mines, who had started to go back to 7  ' ‘

his men, turned as the fatal blow was struck.
and uttered a cry of rage and horror when he
saw the fall of iis son. He had no time to use
a weapon, as White Wolf was upon him in an
instant, and the deadly foes clinched in a mortal
struggle. .
Again and again the wild mountaineer struck
furiously with his bloody knife; but Simmes
had clutched his throat in an iron map, and
held on with a tenacity of purpose w ich nothe
ing could defeat. Before any one could inter-
fere. White Wolf grew black in the face, the
knife drop .d from his nerveless land, and he
fell back ifelcss. Then his enemy, exhausted
by loss of blood, sunk upon the ground at his
side. ‘ ‘
The outlaws were terribly disconcerted by the,
fall of their chief, and by the attack in their
rear of the party that had followed White Wolf
down the cliff. This gave the Kiowns an, ad-
vantage which they pressed to the utmost. At,
the same time the Texans. who had been block-
ading the secret pass, perceivin the turn that
affairs had taken rushed in to t consistence of
their friends. The main body of the besiegers
also played their part, by
attack upon the guards at the head of the pass,

followers would be able to overcome them, , which scon prOVed successful, and the entrance

'3

\

making a vigoroub '

 

 

 

 

   
  
 

l

 

 

 

 

30

The White Wolf.

 

was forced. The outlaws, attacked on all
sides were dispersed in every direction, and
the fndians were left to complete the Work of
slaughter.

Arthur Lynn had hastened to Kate Crozier to
congratulate her upon her safety, and to re-
assure her by giving her a brief explanation of
the events that had occurred. He was so occu-
pied by this pleasant task that he could take no
part in the conflict that ensued. When it was
ended, he was joined by Captain Scott, who ac-
companied him to the spot where White Wolf
and his enemy were lying.

Wiley Simmes was still alive, and glanced up
at the Kentuckfan with a look of unextinguish<
able hatred.

“ This is the end of it,” he said; “but I would
he even with you folks if it wasn’t for the death

* of m r boy.”
“ 'lYelloigie one thing before you go ” implored

Arthur.

“What has become of my rothers?”
“Lift me up, then, so that I can breathe. I

\ may as well tell you, as you would get it out of

some of the others. There lies one of them "—
pointing at White Wolf —“ the last who came.

had my revenge out of him, though he has 0t
me at last. The other was killed long ago. %Ve
set him up against a clifl’ but yonder and shot
him all to pieces.”

‘ ‘ Jack Scott E" exclaimed Arthur, grasping the
hand of his friend. “It is you! ou are my
own brother, Reuben Ly .”

“ Alive!” groaned the wounded outlaw, and

, that was his last word.

The rangers pardoned the crimes of the
Kiowas that were left on the condition that they

_ would go far from the settlements and never

molest the white people again, and they faith-
fully performed their art of the contract.

The body of Wiley immes was buried where
he fell; but those of Frank Lynn and Lee
Simmes were taken to Captain Scott’s planta-

' tion, where they were decently interred.

Arthur Lynn accompanied his brother to his
house, with Kate Crozier and her father the
leader of the rangers becoming surety for bap-
tain Crozier. that he should answer such char es
as his “neighbors might bring against him. 0
charges were made, however, and it was gener-
ally conceded that he had been more sinned
against than sinning, and he remained in undis-
turbed possession of his property, the death of

., his brother-in-law and his nephew having cleared

 

off all incumbrances.

Jack Scott recognized the fact that he was
Reuben Lynn, although his memory could never
go back beyond the time when he was found at
the foot of the cliff; but he continued to be
known as Jack Scott among the greater part of
his old acquaintances.

As there were no attractions in Kentucky suf-
ficient to induce Arthur Lynn to return to that
State, he remained in Texas, purchasing a plan-
tation near that of his brother, and. settling
down upon it with Kate Crozier as his wife.

THE END.

 

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l Deerhunber, the Buy Scout of tho Grant North Woods.
By 011 Countes.

9 Bull'nlo run, from Boyhood to Mnnhood. By Col. Prun-
tlnI lnzrnhmn.

8 Kit Carlton, Klnz o! Guldes. By Albert W. Aiken.

4 Gordon Lllllo, the Boy-Interpreter oftha P-wnaen. By
Major. H. B. Stoddard.

5 Bruin Adams, Old Grluly's Bay Pnrd. By Culonal
Prentlu lnurnhnm.

8 Deadwood chk nil «Boy. By Edward L. Wheeler.

7 Wlltl Bill. tho Pistol Prlnce. By Colonel Prentln
lnnrnbnm.

8 The Prairie Bunch. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
9 Rfilen‘I Joel The History oft “ Bord r Bay.” By A.
. or .

10 Texas Jack. the Mun...“ King. By Colonel Prentiu
lngrshmn.

11 Charley Skylark. A Stnrv of Srhool-dny Scrap" nnd
mum Cnpm. ny Mnjor H. 1;. Stoddard.

12 Murine-n Marl-n. By Joseph E. Bmlgrr, Jr.

13 Roving lien. [13' John J. Mltrlhnll.

14 During steel, Kim: of the Bush. By J. E. Badger, Jr.
15 Wd'tiifigcwuku George, the Boy Pioneer. By Edwsrd

18 The Boy “’izurd. By Barry Rlngzold.

17 Peter Pe pernrurn, the Greenhurn from Gotham. By
' Noah Nu .

13 Adrift on the Prnlrl And Am t
on the Buii’nlu Rouge. By 011%§.'.§.2..""“°"

19 The Fortune liunter; nr, Ravln Joe :1 Mlnfl',
Cowboy, Trapper nnd Hunter. By A. . Post.

20 Trapper Tom, th» Wood imp. By '1'. C. Hub-ugh.

91 Yellow llnir. the Boy Chldol‘tna Puma“. By Col.
Prcntiu luprmhnm.

02 The Snow Troll. By T. C. Harnnugh.

28 Old Grizzly Adams. tha Bur Tun-r. By Dr. Frank
Powell.

94 Wood: and Wotan. By Capt. Frederick Whltumor.

95 A Rolling Stone 3 lnoinonu ln tho Curear on Sen and
anI at (.01. Prunth lngrnhnln. lly Wm. R. Eylter.

26 Red River Iloveru. lly f‘. Dunning Clark.

27 Plant and Phil"; nr. Wild Adventures nt“Buclultln
Stun." (Mn). Smn. S. Hall.) By Col. P. lngrnhnln.

38 The Sword Prince. 1 ns Romnntle Life at Cox. Mon-
ltnry. By Capt. Frudarlck whitt her.

$9 flnow-fihoe Tom. By T. C. Huh-ugh.

80 l’uul tie Lur- th Fran! Be t h . - .
Dunnan Clark?“ a u M c "m" B) C

81 Round the Camp Fire. By Jouph E. Badger, Jr.

82 “'hlte Beaver, the lndlnn Medlclno Chief. By Col
l‘rentlsl lngrnhnm.

88 The Boy Crnnnder. By Capt. Frml. Whittaker.

84 The Chane of the Grant Whlte Stag. Ind, on",
nnd Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark.

85 Old an Knuckle and H11 Boy Chums. By R. Stnrhnek.

86 The Dluhlnu Drngooni nr. Tho Story of Gen. Gcorgo
A. Guitar. By Cnpt. Fred. Whlttnlmr.

81 Night-flow]: George. By Col. Prsutlu lnmahnm.

83 The Boy Exile: of Siberia. By T. C. llnrbnngh.

39 The Young Bear lluntern. By Morrll Redwlng.

M Sill-rt Sill, Iha lad with I Level Head. By Edwnrd
Wlllctt.

41 The Sattler’l Son. By Edward S. Ellll.

4.9 Welt Fergluon’n Cruise. By C. Dunnlng Clerk.

48 Ride and Revolver. By Capt. Frod. Whimhr.

 

 

44 The Lost Boy Whaler“ UV '1‘. C. Kubnngh.

45 Bronco Billy. ths Saddle Prlnoo. ByColJngnhnm.

46 Dick, the Stowaway. l3y Chfllol Month

4? The Colorado Boys; or. Llfoon u Indigo floatation.
liy Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

48 The Pamper: Hunter” or, Nuw York Boys In
llunnns Ayrrs. By 1‘. C. Hnrhnugh.

4" The Adventurous Life of Nebrukn Charlie.
Hy Col. Prentiss lnxrnlmn.

50 Jack llm-ry und Tom, the Three Chunplon Brothorl.
liy dnyt. Fred. Whittnkor.

51 The Young Land-Lubber. By C. Dun-In; Cloth.

5’! The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Hnrbongh.

58 llnneet llnrr ; or. The Country Boy Adrift in the
(Tlty. lly Chnr es Morrln.

54 Californln Joe, the My-urion- Plum-n. By Col.
Prentlu ln‘zrnhmn.

65 Tip Treunel. the Floatar. By Edsnrd Willoti.

56 The Snow Iluntern; or, Wlnur In tho Woodl. By
Barry the Forrest.

5? Harry Solners, the Snllor Boy Iii-Klein. By s. W.
Pearce.

68 The Adventurous Life of On tnln Jack, tho
Border Boy. Hy Col. Prantlu lngra mm.

59 ane Tim, the Mule Boy of tho Mlnos. By Chulu
I)" I.

60 The Young Troll llunten; or, Now York Boys in
Urlzzly Land. [By T. C. Hnrbunzh.

61 The Tiger Hunter or. Thu Colondo Boyoln ll.-
phnnt ml. By Jose)» E. lindgar, Jr. '

62 Doctor Carver, the “ Evll Spirit" oltlu rm... By
Col. Prenliu lug nhmn.

68 Black “one Bill, the Bundlt Wruhr.
Surhuck.

64 Young Dick Talbot; orAA Boys Rough and 'hunblo
Flght Irnm New York to Lllllornin. By A. W. Mk0“.

65 The Boy I’llnu or, Tho lllnnd Wmhr. By Col.
Prentiss lnzrnluun.

66 The Denert Rove]? or, stow-way Dish Among the
Arabs. liy Chorus 0 rls.

67 Toqu Charlie, thu Boy Rang-r.
lnuruhmn.

68 Little Rifle; nr, Thu Your Fur llnntns. By'Cnptnln
“ llrnln ” Atlanta.

69 The Young Nlhlllll‘ or A Ylnlu Boy Among the
Run-inns. liy Clmrles i‘ orr I.

70 Pony the Cowhqu or, The Young Mush-H'- Rnid.
Iiy . lnjnr H. B. Stu dud, Ex-ficoui.

By Roger

By Col. Punti-

71 Bull Rob: wt and Ill: Bear. By Clpuln " Bul- "
Admins. '

7B The Ice Elephant. By Capt. Prsdurtck Wilma-r.»

78 The Young Mom-Bunion. By Williun H.
Mnnnlnz.

74 The Boy Coral-Fishers. By Rum Bierme

75 Revolver Billy, tho llov Rnngsr of Tons. By Col.
Prentiss lnzrnhmn.

'36 The Condor Killers. Ry 'n' C. Huh-ugh.

7? Lud Lionheeln, the Yuung Ttgsr l‘lghhr. By Boar
Slnrhutl.

78 Flntbont Fred. Ry Edward Willvti

79 Boone, the Hunt-r. Br (‘npinln F. Whittaker.

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08 William Street. New York

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30 Kentneky Ben, tho Lonir Rifle of the (‘urwndu-I. l _-
agar Starlinck.
81 The Kit Carson Club. ByT- C1 “urhnuzlh
89 Little Buck the Boy Guide. My Ilurrv Ring" ll
88 Pony Bob tlu Recklels Rider m the Rnl'kltim
Prenllu In mhnm.
84 Captain ly-b -Nl¢ht.

n): (‘..l.

Bv Joupll E. lhulgm', .I r.

\85 Cflvtllzln Rqu , the Young Exlllul'cr. By C. Dunning
. . r

r A .

88 thtle Dun Rocks. By Morris Rwlwinz.

8'? The Melluq‘erle Hunter-I. 15y Mu}. H. Granville.

88 The Bo ’lrampu; or, Lye Among the Gipuius. My
.1. M. l ofl'lnan.

89 ’Lol Ihore LUe. Ry C. D (‘lnrln

90 Roving Rifle.( nsler'u Little Smut. By T. C. Hmlrnuzh.

"I Oregon Josh, the leurrl Rill‘. By Roger Slurlmrk.

92 llnrrlenne Hit. By A. F. Hull.

98 Jnmplng Jake, the Colorado Circus Buy. By Hryum
Bumbridgo.

94 Sum Spence, the llrondllnrn llny. Ily Ed. ‘l'lllvll.

95 Moscow to Siberia; or, A Yankee Boy in lllu llarue.
By Clmrles Morris.

96 Fighting Fred; or, The Castaways of Grizzly ('unrp.
By T. C. Hurlmngll.

9'! Ornlne of the Flyawny; or, Ynukae Boys in CuyLm.
y (‘. Dunning Clark. ‘

98 The Boy VIKIInnu-n; or, King (‘nln «ml “is llurnl.
Ry  H. n. swan. ‘ . v

99 The ‘1 Mia Tlgern; hr, Silwr Riflv. lhu Iiirl Trm'ker
oflmka Superior. Bv Cum. l‘llurlr-s Huwnrrl.

100 The Snow-Shot- Trnll; ur,’l'llu Form. Daspernllllvs.

R St. George) llutlihouu.

101 Dan-Inna, the Ottnwu Girl; or, The Mysterious ('nu/w.

, B‘Edwnrd S. Ellis.

10% T e F! uwug Aflnut: nr. Yankee flay: ’Ronml HIP,
World. y C. mining Clurk.

los’l’nt Mnlloney’n Adventuren: or, Silver Tongue
the Dncolnll Queen. By C. L. Edwards.

104 The Bo Prospector; or, The Sol-ml oi the Sir-rm
Ravine. y Roger Stru'huck.

. 105 )llnonee. lhe Wand wan-1.; or. The 5.1mm.“ Rem-l.

By Edwin Emerson.

100 The Bov Cruluern; or, Jae mid Jup'a Big Find. ll,-
zuwm Warm.

107 The Border Rover-n; or, Lust ml the Ovr‘rlmI-l
’l‘rnil. ByJ. Milton Huffman.

lOS'AInnkn. the Wait-Queen; "I". TI» 1." i».
.Duulrle (Trilnv. Hv I‘u it. l-lmvm-d Lim

lirntlm's’

‘109 Chrlgtl-u Jlm, the \‘lliw Man's hum. ByE-lullrd '

U . Is.

“0 Plneky Joe. “19. Ray AveIlm-r; Dl‘, Dirk l‘mlmunl‘a
Lu! ide. lly J. Millnn‘ llufl‘mlm.

Ill The Border Gllnnlulscr; m, The llunlml Muidun.
By Jamal l.. Hnu'i'll A

112 Lea-Handel] Pete, the Dnnhle-Knil‘o. Hy .1"...le
E. Bndger, .lr.,

113 The River Rules; or. Tim Fnln-ol‘llle Flullmul. By
Capt. .I. F. v. mm...

114 Alone on the Plain“. ltv Edward Wlllrll.

115 Fillver Horn, and His Riflu Fin-damn. By Huge!
Slnrhurk.

“6 Ex 10".! of Ilczeklnh slnlth, Hm Blirkwnodhmun. ‘

Ih' ‘Innraon anlumn.

.a
11?
us. By C. Dunning l'lnrk
118 old Tram; r. in» llnlv [Hull-é. By Hurry Rlnuuuld.
I") (‘euter Shot. Ilw “'Ilih- ('rnw, or, Ruvlng llillr'a
'intl Ca H‘niun. Br 1‘. (‘. Hm lmuzll.
120 A llot run; or, L'lurk Cluwrly Among the anlnrs.
llv Clmrlra Morris
121 Iflllltcr Pal-(l “on: or,T|Ie Wuknsh'u Blind Loml.
Hv Razor Sturhuuli.
122 The [Enqnlmnnx‘ Queen: or, Thu Myllery 0! the
Lona lint. By G. Wnldn Browns.
23 Thu the llnv Arrnbnl; 0r, Life ln the Cirrus Ring: By
1'Imr u Murrla.
ueen Bennie. in» Bowler-Girl. BvHanry.l.’l‘lmmnu.
om Tabor, lhe Buy Fuuiliw: nr.Tllu Young Lynch.
“ 'nlveu." By Burrv Riuugol I.
V Coat, the Damn—Sim; or. Tho Spring of this
Tl or. By Jon. E. Badger. Jr. ’
12‘! Tfie Deer Hunters. By John J. Mnmlmll.
193 Wolf-Ca ‘ or The Night‘Hnwh oi the Firwlrmlds.
By Can hnl. award.

The Yonng Mnninnm-rn; nr, Dirk Mam-'1 Rum: 1

 

129 §:'l‘4(\rflpllr; or, The l\lnunluiu llrruino. llriu‘dwnnl
i u t. '

180 K column, ann u the l‘luim. Ily l‘m \-

lill \\ lnlnh. thr- ('hild 5” l-‘\ (ii-mg» 1.1.. ' r n

[32 ’l‘lle Inland ’l'rnplu or, The Yullllg' \\ |.llr'-liull'llln
Iluulnrs. lly ' ll‘l1‘fllliv Il'l .

Fore- hpeeter; or, 'l‘lw Young “Miller’s Fur.
m- lulll‘tl \\ lllml.

- l “'llql Mn, Ilw 'l'rnviu-r. By \\'m. R. I‘Ilrlvr.
1. r The filher Bugle; “1', Thu lmlluu .lluidun of Si.
'i“lluix.Pliyllivulik'u . aneIl-vln.
Il', rn r c ‘ru ) )cr. iv l‘. hm ni v ‘:
The Antelope lhgyl. l4) 4;]... 1.. Advil: “M”
Long Shut; or, Thu lhvurl’h‘uirln. Hy ('upl. (Jmnsunk

(I‘ololrlxcl ('rnukctl, the Bunr King. llyf‘llarles la.
.us'r .-.
old l't‘g‘u, llu- Mouruulnr-i-r. lly Lewl. \\'. l‘nrauu.
'I‘IH: Ulnnl "nun-r. l'.\' Hurry lluwr-l.
"luck l’nnllmr. lhu “llll~]illm41. llv Jnrrpll l-i.
Imam, .lr. ‘
l‘nrnun, llu- Hindu, or, I'l‘FiISl l‘llu- I-‘rnnlicr. Bv Lieut
.l.ll. in....:..l,.l.. '
Foul. lllv ILlIlul'r. lly I‘Irlu'rml s. Elli .
lllll Rabbit-r, llunlvr. Ity m "Hui Willi-ll.
Tlu- ll Hood | lull; ur. 'llle 'l’nngled Truil.
ll. . mun-r. Jr.
The .“nr-k 4| .\\onm-r. [H- (‘r l. l‘rrlltlh lngrul-um.
NM. mu 'lrnl-lu-r ulnl 1min... miner. lzy will .I.
I'l «51'. ll.
Tim ll; lh-nlmx; nr,’l’lle (-‘lunl l‘r llrern. By T.
1‘. llmlmnulr.
The [My )lu—lnmr-"nnlor; nr. Euululle, lllu
Urnulll‘ul Ammo“. ivy I'l‘l‘lll'l'iflk \‘l'lllllnkel‘.
‘ k \' 1., him Yuung Trapper; nr, Munnlnin
. in v .4 1.2. E. llmlzer, Jr.

I

<1..Julrn.

‘ p-‘q D‘ Add
-‘ o-Ji pi- r-i-h C: 32::
fr: "1-: 56 1'1

6:".

r- nihi-
5: 1’]

3‘
O

( HV ll]! ‘ tunnel.
 F...” 'Ilnl-purn‘ Amle nu, Sioux.

we a — _ —~ ___ n

‘np: l‘vy

L,"

l’uul lllldrs.

Th0. (‘h r

and lllv “l‘l'I‘IIlI‘I Hm IN.

I)» nk Blek'n lhmm.

Frnn ' “01', the Buy Spy. Ily ()ll (‘muu

Nit-k Dayle. Nu» Gold llunlrr. B) l’. Myer-I,

Kill-nipped "Ii-L’- or, The Fulo nflll. 1-] Fl}. By

.. lnulry Heml- .

Snin’n Long 'l'rnll: nr, le Twin Sunnis. By W. J.

Humlllnu.

llunk ’l‘r-lnlvt'

The Mad sk'llfll'l‘.

The Tramp r [Um-u

Shun" Kl'lilllfl. “Illllvl‘.

Th1- liny (‘lilcl'g m'. l-‘rnuk l‘v-ll‘u Clllllplu'l.

r... p...

(if) 'l‘ln- Trnflor Trillion. RV J. Flnnlvy llvmltrsun.

llll Juno": Plow. liy \lw. (mn ' u

The Yullllg‘ 'l‘rullrr. llv \‘l', .I. Ha my.

Tl HpH-tor ism. Hy .\ln_l. lulu-in w. (‘m'snm
Llltt', [hrs (7le Cnlnllulu Illllllr'l’. By E. “'.

Iplon Town Rider: nr. Rad Bufl'uln,
My Hun L (ii-"run.
By . F. llmilzur, .lr.

Vow. Ry Hurry llnznnl.
Hy n. \lurllurk.
ll) Mni. Mnx .\l Nina.
Ry I'Inwrnnu Rndmrn.
n,- on

A’ r-r.
Tl“: “"IIIN‘ \\WIH'. lly I‘Irluunl “'illn-ll.
'I'llo Swnlnp (fill-Iv. llv \\. N. Aerr-il.
'rlu- Ynnkre l‘cddlcr. By C. Dunning Clark.
Rr-mly Jul; an. I

173 The Sum! mud lllu Yuung lfhnm. By Wurrun
Sl. .lnlm. lelh Allgunl. I).

17! lllnt-k-n-llll ‘mn‘ “In-k. ‘ByGr-n. D. Gilbert.
luau,- Augml

175'1‘lle Ihuvknkln Rider.
llmuly August 2‘”.

176 The finnnltor'n Snrprlsc.
Tum-m... lh-udy Airgun 2 .

17”? Four Felluw Seoul".
llmuly Nlm-nlbcr :1.

By Guy Gm-nwond.
Ry Mn. llvnry J.

By J. Slanlby Hr-ndvnnn.

lk-ndle‘n Bog": Llln-nry In for l‘fllt‘ by all ansdulmr.
five cents per mpy, or Mull lw muil on receipt 0! six cent: each.

BEAM. 2 AND ADAMB, Pubnnrers,
ms wmlmu Btrcci, New York.