N0  $2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Prloe. v01 
I n l I

0 Yum No. 98 WILLIAM Sn. NEW YORK. FlV" 00"“-

 

 

 

 

 

A. RED HAND WAS THRUST OUT AND TOUCHED HIM ON THE ARM.

 

  
 

   
      
     
   

" longthof limb and muscle. ,
like the Onondaga, only his head was surmount-

‘. been a chief among his tribe. But,

 

Pat, the Plueky Sergeant.

 

Pal, the Plucky Sergeant;

RALl’H ON THE WAR-PATH.
‘ \ BY W. J. HAMILTON,

 

nmro SPY,” are, arc.

CHAPTER I.
THE TWO scours.
ON a beautiful day in the month of July, 17.56,

 

I ‘ two men were sitting under the shadows of a.

themloclz, near the place where the river
83511:. empties its waters into the Seneca, form-
' ing the Oswego, in the State of New York.
They were lounging in indolent case—one puff—
ing vigorously at along Indian pipe, the other
whittling, and, by this action, proclaiming his
ntlsionality, at once. For the Yankee of those
times was the Yankee of to-day, and the “ jack-
knife ” was among the necessary articles. The
smoker was an Indian, wearing the dress of the
Onondagas.
His com anion was a. young white man, dress-
ed muoh e himself, and his very image in
He was dressed, too,

,edby a coonskin cap, the tails dropping grace-
‘ fully down upon his shoulders. He had a care—
less,,handsome face, with a clear, unflinching
e e, and a smiling lip.
- nd yet, he was t e most daring scout and it-
iless enemy the French had to fear on t at
border. . _ .
Ralph Warren had been a quiet Citizen, living
with his father on the Mohawk. One day, a
roving band of French and Indians came down
upon the settlement. Few escaped the merciless
tomahawk of the savages; but among them was
39.1 h, who broke for the woods, when he saw
the. there was no hope, and escaped. Next day.
' he returned to his once happy home. Heart-sick
with anguish, be buried the bones of his father,
mother and baby sister. From that day he took
to the woods, and woe to the Indian of the Huron
tribe, or the Frenchman, who came within
ran e of his rifle.

e had a. brave pard in Ut—ta—wan. who had
through
«lousy, repeated insults had been aid upon
in: until he turned his back upon the graves of

mine

are, forswore all companionship with his
family,
all rovmg hands, no matter under what flag they
lived. Few cared to buckle with him in single
,. combat, knowing the power of his arm. The
En gsh commanders would have lost any com-
‘V 'in their force, sooner than either of these
may.
 “Did my brother see the war-chief!” asked
l Ut-ta-wan. V
The other made an impatient gesture, and an-
swered:
' “Yes, I saw him, and this is just where it is.
You and I know more about the designs of the
’F‘rench than all the men in New York put to-

 gether. Very good; I go down to Albany, and,

Airman or “nan MIKE’S Russ,” “ EPH, run

He was smiling now..

and became a scout, hated and feared by.

 

find Abercrombie, and tell him that the French
are going to attack Oswego. What did he sa ?
Why, that he did not believe it, because an n~
dian had told him that the French were not
making any preparation to attack us, at all;
that they were waiting for us to pitch in. Well,
I went round, and found out who it was that
told him so. And who do you think it was?”

“ Ugh 1 Don’t know—Huron, p’r’aps,” said the
chief, sententiously.

“ No, it was not, though. It was I~re~ton, the
Mohawk.”

The eyes of Ut-ta—wan glowed like a. suddenly
lighted fire, and he muttered under his breath:

“ Bes’ him keep out my way. Take his scalp,
if catch him.”

“I met him in the street, fair and square, the
next day. The rascal wasn’t quite ready to
meet me, and tried to dodge dewn an alley. But
it was no use. I looked him right in the eye,
and went on.”

“Why not take scalp? NeVer kill no more
fader, nor mudder, den.”

“ It wouldn’t have paid. There were half a
dozen of his tribe about him, and I knew it was
no use. But let him beware; I shall have him yet,
in spite of his cunning. He may think to escape,
but,"in time, I will bring him down, or die try-
mg.

“ S’pose him come to Oswego?” -

“Think he will. You know I did not give

ou the whistle when I found you at Oneida
aka?”

H No.77

“ I—reton had followed me all the way from
Albany. I saw him once, from a hole where I
was hidden, and I could have put out my hand
and touched him, chief.”

Ut—ta-wan ro'se, and looked to the flint of his
rifle, loosened his knife and hatchet, and pre-
pared to start.

“ Where new?” asked Ralph.

“ Me go scout,” was the short reply. “ When
you hear hawk call twice, swim out to the point.
I be there with canoe.” -

The youn scout, who had half risen, cast
himself indo ently back on the sward, while his
red pard plunged into the forest, with his rifle
on a trail. His pace was the short trot peculiar
to the Indian, but light and rapid, hardly stirr-
ing the forest leaves. Without another thought
of the danger, Ralph lay upon his back, looking
up into the sky. He was a dreamer~ this young
wood-king—and was thinking that, from the
blue heavens bent above, perha 5 his slaughtered
family were looking down on im. From this
reverie, he was startled by a piercing yell.
coming from the woods, a few rods away. Then
came, a moment after, a wailing cry, which had
sounded too often in his ear to be misunderstood;
it was the scalp-cry of an Indian. '

He was on his feet in a second,'with -the
ready rifle in his hand. The cry was not re-
peated from that point; but, for half a mile
through the woods, on every side. Katherng
who told him that the gang of I-revton Was at
hand. Who had fallen? He hardly thought
that it was the chief. for it would have been a
wily savage who circumvented_h1m. He ran
quickly down to the edge of the river, and under
the close shelter of overhanging bushes, awaited

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

 

 

events. Half an hour assed, and the scout
had almost begun to don t whether his friend
was indeed safe, when the cry of a hawk came
with startling earnestness across the water.
He waited. gain came the cry. And when
the third call sounded, his rifle already was
lashed toa log, together with his powder-horn
and pouch, and he launched out into the water.

The point now known as “Three Rivers,” was
covered with a luxuriant growth of maple and
beech. The river was rapid, but the strong
swimmer soon accomplished the distance, and
stood dripping on the shore. Only a moment
he tarried there, and then buried himself in the
bushes. Scarcer had be done so, when a puff
of white smoke rose from the opposite shore,
and a bullet sung sharply by him. Then a
tufted head appeared, looking eagerly out for
the effect of the shot. That sealed his doom.
For, simultaneously with his appearance, came
the crack of the scout’s rifle, and he fell forward
on his face, in the ooze of the river-bank, with

' a bullet through his brain.

“ Fool,” muttered the avenger, as he‘ be an to
load; “he rushed upon his own fate. here
is Ut—ta—wan?”

“ Here,” said a voice. and turning, he saw the
chief at his elbow. He was stripping off his
superfluous clothing. The scout laid his hand
upon his arm.

“ Where are you going, chief?”

“Take Mohawk scalp. Got one scalp. Mus’
have two."

“ You shall not risk your life for that Indian’s
head-piece," said the scout, half an rily.

“Why not? What risk be? hat if he
kill? Den Mohawk get scalp may be; if not,
get Ut-ta-wan nudder scalp, self.”

“ You are not going, though. You have
work before you. There!”

A brown band reached out, caught the dead
Indian by the heels and the body disappeared
from view. A look of intense disgust passed
over the face of the chief. The coveted trophy
was one!

“ 9 new: ios’ good scalp.-- Bumbye me take
 scalp, bett’n _dat. Whar go now, Big

“ We must et to OsweIgo to-ni ht. I am too
mad to live, a most, for should ave brought
up at least two thousand regulars from below.
But if Abercromhie would boa fool, I can’t
hel it. Did you find the canoe?”

ithout answer, the Indian led the way to
the other side of the point. A bark canoe lay
moored upon the shore. Ral h sat dewn in the
shad0w of the bushes, and ifted his coonskin
cap upon his rifle. He sought to know if the
Indians were on the opposite bank of the Seneca,
as well as the Oneida. Whizl zip! came the
bullets, driving into the trunks of the trees,
splashing the water before him, and cutting the
twigs about his head, while a fierce yell. as
the coonskin sunk down, perforated by two
balls, told that the foe hoped they had slain the
redoubtable “Big Elk,” as Ralph was called
among the tribes, with whom he had a terrible
reputation. He laughed low, and thrust his
fingers into the holes, looking at the chief.
d “Gslod eye," said the Onondaga; “I-re-ton

ere.

   

 

       

   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
      
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
    
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  

“ How do you know?”

“ Can’t help know him rifle. Heard it many
time. Good shot, he be.”

“ I’ll pay him, if he’ll only show himself.”

“ Won’t, dough. Him old chief, long on war-
path. Young brave show himself, get hit;
know better nex’ time.”

“ We are in a trap, Eagle Eye.” '

“ S’pose so. Some gone up Oneida, cross
over, and come down on Seneca. More come I
down on point; take we scalp.” *

The imperturbablo calmness of the chief wastoo
much for the eqnanimity of even Ralph. But
the Indian’s face was set like steel.

“We are caught. then, I suppose!"

“Nebber t’ought day (1 go dere. S’poee we
caught now. Mus’ stay cau ht, s’pose. When
git-gamma git ready, den im go! See dis!

Near at hand lay the stick to which he had ' I
lashed his rifle, and which an eddy had whirled
round into the little cove where they stood. It >-
was a basswood, about six feet long. The
Indian laid his hand upon it, and drew it further
up the beach. The log was about three feet
through. The chief be an with his hatchet to!
cut out the lower side w ich was quite rotten. V _ .

“ What are you going to do; hide the guns?“
asked Ralph. '

“No; make canoe nudder way. You 580,”,
and the man cut away rapidly at the log.
When he had done, he put his head into the»
aperture, and drew it out with a satisfied look.
A smilepassed over the face of Ralph,and a sigh
of relief passed his lips. - ;

“Ah, I see. That is what you are u toiit‘v
will save us. I thought my time to die (1 not:
come yet. Roll it under these bushes. Bequick,
for these Mohawk knaves are getting uneasy,
and those who are coming down behind can not
be far off. Give me your knife.” ‘ .

The other did as desired, and the young man '
coolly cut out the bottom of their only ark of ’
safety. This did not disconcert the chief in the
least, who was quietly placin the rifles and'
ammunition on little pegs he ad driven into,”
the sides of his new canoe. Just as he had fin-
ished, the scout joined him. "

Five minutes after, a log, very nearly resem-r,
bling the one on which they had been at work,
floated slowly out from under the bushes, turn-
ing an whirling down the eddies in a very
natur and unsuspicious manner. V 

'The log floated on, whirling about in every
eddy, bumping against the rocks, and doing
everything a log might be so posed to do, under
the control of the waters. ow near the shore,
now far off, it floated on, until a bend in
stream, half a mile down, hid it from the view,
of the watcher on the tree, who, for some.
reason, kept his eye upon it. Then his atten- 
tion was called to the point and he heard~th
cries of the party which he had sent down the
Seneca to come upon the two scouts from
rear. hey were close at band now, and the,“
ambush on either side was alive with adv‘an
rifles and muskets, prepared for the rush“ t c
hunted men. which they felt sure would comer
Soon came yells of disappointment and rags-
and the painted fiends began to appear along"
the stream edge. I-re-tcn deacon ed with aa-

   

  

 

   

4 , I Pat, the Pluoky Sergeant.

 

Ingry face and met two who ware swimming

-, over to the shore.

4; “ Where is the Big Elk?" he thundered.

A , “Gone; jumped over the Seneca l” asserted the

y. leading brave, with an expression which plainly

i told that he steadfastly believed Big Elk had
jum the river.

7 “ ig fool I” shouted I-re-ton. “Where did

‘ he leave his canoe?”

“ Cut canoe’s bottom out.” replied the brave.

. I-re-ton would doubtless have proceeded
further with his questioning, when, from the
river, half a mile below, they heard an echoing
cry. Looking downward, they saw the two
scouts wading the stream, which was very shah
low at that polnt, holding their rifles high above

‘ their heads. The chorus of mad yells that
burst from the Mohawkswas truly deafening.

Searcer had the bushes hid the scouts from

View than the Mohawks were busy. Their
shrill calls brought those on the east of the river
down to the shore. The chief shouted some
brief directions to them, and they dashed off at
once, keeping well to the east. Those grouped
about I—re~ton struck off into the wood, on the
long lope culiar to the savage: and the place
which ha been vocal with yells five minutes

. Signal-cries were heard, growing fainter and

' fainter, asthe parties passed on down the stream.
, It was evident that I-re~ton was bound to give
I Ralph trouble, before he found shelter under
’ the walls of Fort Ontario.

The scouts pushed on rapidly after they had

landed from their submarine canoe. They knew
. the untirin vigor of their pursuers, and that

they won] not linger on their track. Until
A nightfall they hurried on through the forest.
’ At this time they were in close proximityto
i  “ Little Falls,” and the roars of the rapids sound-
-,ed in their ears. Here they determined to rest,

in spite of I-re-ton and his Mohawks. Ralph,
* leaning his back against the wall of rock beside
~ him, slept as soundly as though a score of foes,

hungry for his blond, were not creeping stealth-
,ilyon his trail. The chief, lighting his pipe, sat
4 down in the shadow of the rocks. listening for
’ (the slightest sound which might foretell the

coming of the enemy. When the morning was
; near at hand, he came stealthin to Ralph, and
- touched him on the arm.

‘“ What is it, chief?” said Ralph.
" They are coming,” was be ‘quiet reply.

I, a Let us go.” 3

   
    
   
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
   

 

CHAPTER II. .

rm: RACE FOR SCALPS.
THE "V of the loan and owl were very
frequent on both sides of the stream. This was
what had led the chief to awaken the scout.
It was the band of I-re-ton Signaling .each
other.- What gave Ut-ta-Wan most uneasmess,
 the fact that many of the ones came from
f down the river, and he knew that a party had
3 struck it below.
Ralph arose at the summons. and looked out
into the gloom. He, too, had been too long m
the woods to be deceived; and he knew that the
[eleven miles through which they must pass
, would be full of danger. _.
' "They are all along the river," said Ralph.

  

,.before. was left alone to the dead Mohawk. .

 

“ Ugh i” grunted the chief.

“ It will not do for us to go down—stream.”

“ No. What do den?”

“ Let us cross the Lake Ne-ah-tah—wan-tah,
and strike Ontario. two miles up. We will there
find our canoe, and can then come down to the
forts.”

“ Good,” said the chief “ Brother’s words are
wise. Let us go.” ‘

Ne-ah-tah—wan-tah, as it is called to this day,
is a. beautiful little sheet in Oswego county, not
far from from Little Falls. The two adventurers
set off, at a rapid pace, and the half-mile to the
shore was soon passed. So often had they‘ been
forced to lay hide-and-seek over this ground,
that they had a canoe hidden by every stream
or lake near Oswego.

A hollow tree—a giant patriarch, which look-
ed as though the hand of time had crowned him
—gave up to them a birch canoe, rough, as if

made some itime when, they were pressed by _,

pursuers. '

“ You make dis?” said the chief. with a laugh.
“ No good canoe—squaw make better.”

“ I was in a hurry,” replied the scout, apolo-
getically, “ and had not time to do it nicely.
Never mind; it will answer our purpose.” _

They pushed off into the lake. The glassy sur
face was not disturbed by a ripple—only here
and there a. duck was from the water with a.

startled cry. It was now gray morning, and'

the two bent to their paddles. The 1i ht craft,
finder the influence of their rapid stro es, fairly
ew.

The passage was short- to-the other side. The
canoe was drawn up among the ferns along the
verge. and left. while the two, with trailed rifles
pressed on. They had not gone many rods when
they knew that their plan to break their
trail, and confuse their foes, had proved abortive.
For a loud signal-call was heard. and soon the
patter of feet. hurrying through the wood, told
that the Mohawks had not been deceived. I-re—
ton was too old a warrior. Divining that the
hunted scouts would do something 0 the kind
he had sent two of his braves to the far side of
the little lake. and it ’was these that were now
in close pursuit, yelling as they ran, to call others
to their aid. .

“We must stop the mouths of their beagles,”
said Ralph, between his teeth.

They crossed a little opening, dashed into the
woods on the other side. and halted sudden-
ly behind trees. A short space ela sed; then
the pursuers broke cover, and rushe into «the
opening. Half-way across, what seemed a beam
of light flashed from the bushes, and struck the
foremost in the forehead. It was the tomahawk
of Ut-ta-wan. thrown with unerring aim; for
the stalwart limbs of the Indian were soon stifl-
ening in death.

The other paused irresolutely, but hearing the .

yells of his gathering friends, he hurled his
hatchet madly~forward, and then, seeing that
he had failed, drew his knifeyand closed. The
Onondaga caught the hatchet. as it clove the
tree at his side, and, with the ulckness‘ of
lightning, smote its fated owner in he center of
the forehead, as, with uplifted knife, he rushed
upon the chief. The Mohawk brave sunk to the

earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Put, the Plucky Sergeant.

    

"5

 

They had put a mile between them and their
foes, and hoped to confuse the now thoroughly
enraged Mohawks before they came to their
journey’s end. Sometimes a grapevme stretched
across the nth. Grasping this with both bands,
they wouldJSWing out as far as they were able,
and drop to the earth. They ran along the tops
of fallen trees, and made long leaps from side to
side, and, at lastI reached a small creek, with a
rocky bed. There they halted, and conferred
a moment. TheIr enemy was close at hand.

“Chief,” said Ralph, taking his hand, “ we
have been in many a fight together. It is time
we knew each other. Now We are in a tight
place. We have Government dis atches in our
hands. Let us separate here, an try to get to
the fort. One will escape—perhaps both; but

robably only one. Who it will be, God above
Enows best. Now, will you go up or down the
creek?"

The chief pressed his hand, without reply, and
then dropping it, turned upward, walking in the
shallow stream. The scout looked after the

(brave fellow, who thus took upon himself the

greatest danger, with a moistened eye. But
there was no time to lose, so, tightening his belt,
he took the course down the stream.

A half-hour sufficed to bring Ralph to the
spot where the creek emptied into the river.
Runing along the brink, to a place where heavy
boughs overhung the water, he drew to the
light the omnipresent canoe and paddles. With
a chuckle of delight, he placed the trusted rifle
in the bow, and took up a blade.

' Soon the first rapid was in sight, where the
water glanced down among brown rocks, throw-
ing the white foam high into the air. The
canoe began to quiver like an aspen, and the
current increased in velocity but the stout
voyager only grasped his paddle wi.h a firmer
hand, and bent his keen eye upon a dark line
where the water ran smoothly among the rocks.

The post was now in sight. 0n the bluffs,
on either side, the forts stood boldly out against
the sky. The keel soon grated upon a sandy
shore under the cliff, and the daring man,
drawing the canoe well up on land, to insure that
it should not float out into the lake, shoulder-
ed his rifle. and walked boldly toward the forti-
fication. The sentry on the Elacis brought him
to a stand; but, recognizing t 9 bold adventurer.
allowed him to pass unquestioned. He walked

uietly through the gate, and .stood within the
ort. It was a strong, bastioned work, with
shot-proofs and shelters. To the right of the
gate were the officers’ quarters, an unpreten-
tious stone building. Toward this he made his
way, pausing to shake hands With those whom
he met and who greeted him warmly, and
would have stop him for news from the Cap-
ital. But he he no time for gossip, and pushed
into the quarters. An orderly was lounging in

the doorway. Ralph Went intoa room on the

right, merely saying:

“Let the colonel know I have come in,
Barnes.”
“By Jove, Ralph. is that you? What’s the
news? Come, let a fellow know. We are dying
for news here.” , .

“ Can’t stop now, Barnes;got business with
the commandant.

“ l’ll tell him. He has been looking for you, 1
my boy, with all eyes; and, I guess he began to 7
think that the Indians had snapped you up."

“ They came very near it.” v .

“.Whatl” Barnes was startled out of quietude. ~
In truth, the orderly had a solemn prejudice
against Indians generally. He was“ not afraid '
of them," he used to inform his comrades, “but .
why could not the dirty beasts fight fair?" Ho ,
would march out with any of them in line of
battle, and take his chance for wounds or glory,‘
but he had conscientious scruples against being
shot from behind a tree, and scalped afterward. "

“ They nearly had me,” asserted Ralph.

“ The deuce they did! Where?”

“ Just above the falls.” ,

“ Do you think they will attack the place?" .M,

“Not these fellows. I am going to speak to . r
the colonel, and have you take out a squad of ~ i“
men and clear them out of the woods. f you ‘
could get into an Indian fight, and kill one or
two with your own hands, you would get to like '
it better.’ _

“ But I won’t though; and you don’t mean to
get the colonel to send me out either.”

Ralph had no intention of the kind. So the 1
young provincial gave the soldier to, understand _
that it would be a capital thing for him to go,
out into the woods and fight I-re-ton. The or-
derly waved wroth, and relieved his feeling in '_
wor s:

“ Look here, Ralph Warren, this won’t do. I 
told the colonel so. I said it was a pretty piece 7
of work to bring a man of my style into this
horrid wilderness and set down among these vile .
savages. Confound them, they have no more 7;
sense than to kill a man from behind a tree. I ,
haven’t liked it, and what’s more, I don’t mean:
to like it, no matter what I do, and—” r f

“In the mean time, Barnes, I am waiting to

bgk to Mr. Warren,” said a quiet voice at his
e w. , . l

Barnes shrunk back in dismay, for the colonel
had heard their voices, and stood close beside
the scout. Contentiug himself with a single.
look at his terrified subaltern, the officer passed :
his arm through Ralph’s, and led him into an
inner room, closely locking and bolting the door
behind. He placed a chair for his eat on
one side of along table, and seated h' f on the
other, saying in suppressed tones: '-

“ Now, then.” '

CHAPTER III.

RALPH’B swmarnmr. ~
RALPH, without another word, drew froman
inner ocket asilver ball and pamed it to the ’
colone . He touched a spriu . and drew out ,8. ,.
crumpled bit of paper, and owly spread it out;
upon the desk before him. It was not a. long» 
dispatch, probably not above a dozen lines in f
all; and yet the officer sat there. with his elbows,
on the table, andlhis eyes fixed intently upon it. '-
studying it as if life depended on the few words. »
Ralph eyed him compassionawa across the table. .

for he knew how bitter disappointment, grief 1
and anger were tearing at the great heart. A
last he lifted his head, with a sigh which spok,
of a fixed resolution, and began methodically
foldin the bit of paper, looking fixed] at; the
scout n the mean time. At last he z. , '

 
    
   

 

  
 
 
  
   
 
    
   
  
   
 
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
    
 
  
 
  
  
   
    

 

s

 

 
 

\

 

” You saw Abercrombiei”

“ I did, sir.”

“And this was his answerl My God! this
was his answer! And what did he say to you?
He knew your cool head and cautious judgment
would not be the first to take alarm-that you
would nevor have told him of the great danger
menacing us unless you knew it to be so. What
said he to you i"

“ In effect, that he did not believe a word I
said. I told him that the French were gather-
ing a great expedition at Montreal against some
post on the lake, doubtless Oswego. I told him
what good means I had of knowmg—that Ut-ta~
wan and myself had been among them, even;
but he laughed at the idea of invasion as woman-
ish and absurd. He declined to take any action
.whatever until the arrival of the Earl of
London. By that time Montcalm or Moran
will be upon us.”

/“ I fear so. London should be on hand. But
all this is idle talk. I am instructed to make
what referations I deem necessary, in case the
Franc s ould make an attack upon the st,
and hold it until the last. This I will do. ur—
ther than that, I am not responsible. Did you
meet with any difficult coming up?"

“ That red renegade, -re-ton, pressed me hard,
and I fear for Ut-ta—wan. He parted from me
at Six-Mile Creek, and broke for the lake. I have
delivered my message, and now go out to save

_ him if I can.” '
r “ You will take a company of the Rifles out
‘ with out"

“ o, sir; let me pick twelve men from 0 Com-
pany, of the major’s battalion, and I will
givenyou a good account of I—re-ton if I meet
him.
“ The major! ah," said the other, with a smile.
“ You will want to see the major, and somebody
. else,” The brave fellow flushed for a moment
like a girl.

, “ Come out quickly, and we will see what can

be done for the Indian. There are no ten men
in the fort to-day except yourself, whom I
would change him for.”

The two passed out into the open air, and up
to the parapet of the fort. From this they had
a fair view of the woods around. The fort stood
. in the center of a little opening which the busy

_' axes had hewn out from the forest, perhaps
~ twenty or thirty acres in all. They were look-

' ing anxiously outward when the crack of a. rifle
saluted their ears, and with it a. defiant. whoop.
Bo suddenly had it followed their appearance
that they though the shot aimed at them; but
the next moment Ralph shouted:

“There spoke the chief. The old boy kicks
‘ yet. Ha, there he comes!"

He Eointed with his hand. Down the shore of
,the la. 6, upon the pebbles and flat rocks which
, lined it, ran a single man, hard followed by
- three others. He was running fully at ease, as
' could be plainly seen by those in the fort, who
. were lookin on with Dalpitating hearts.

. " “ By J up tor,” said Ralph, “if he isn’t towing
“them into the fort. A hundred to twenty be
than}; eighthem at thebtlzre‘e trees!" h bl d
. y' e powers, u ye see t e agguar
run?" cried an Irish sergeant. “ Arrah, me lad,
 but ye do yer work w 1. Chest well out, an‘

    
  
  
  
     
    
 

/ .

 

 

 

 

‘évu.~-‘-;; .- . . ' .
-  emfiwj'iéfiesm': :-.,~*~<;;:-«‘«‘-«.;:~’;sxem ~.v    .- I «. ~

6 Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

goin’ well from the thighs. Ah, ye beauty, but
that run would make the fortune of ye at
Donnybrook.”

“Are they not gaining on him?” questioned
the colonel, in a 10w tone.

“ Yes, and he lets them. Now, I know that
follow well enough to tell you that he could come
into the fort before they could get to the three
trees. But the rascal covets scalps, as Pat
Mooney there covets potheen.”

“Arrah, ye b‘aste, don’t slander mo wid yer
talk. Where w’u’d I get pothcen in this haythen
counthry, to be sure?"

“ As I was saying, when he gets to the three
trees he will expect me to be With him, and so
here goes." As he spoke, the brave scout sprung
over the parapet, slid down into the ditch,
clambered up to the glacis, and ran toward the
trees, with his rifle poised in his ready hands.
“ Let him pass,” shouted the commandant to the
sentry on the glacis, who had pointed his gun
at him. The fellow recovered arms, and well
for him he did so, for the scout would most
certainly have knocked him down. Hulting a
few paces beyond, he dropped upon one knee,
threw forward his rifle, and looked keenly at
the coming chase. About forty paces behind
the chief. ran a hideously-painted savage, bran-
dishing his hatchet for a throw. The rifle of
Ralph came slowly to his eyes; 11 pull‘ of white
smoke was followed by the whip-like riflecrack;
the pursuer bounded into the air, dead before he
touched the ound. The Indians had no rifles
——only toma awks and knives. When they saw
the ‘ Big Elk ” drop his man, and then lean
forward to the aid of his friend, they paused,
looked at him irresolutely, and then dashed into
the woods on the left. The chief would have
followed, but the other seized his arm. ‘

“Come back chief; you will get into an am-
bush. How did you escape?”

“ Got long legs—run ver fast. See dis?”

He pointed to afresh see p in his belt.

“ Got nudder scalp. Make four. Dat do for
one day, guess. Go now into big Wigwam.
Tired and hungry. Mus’ have rest.

The two turned and ran toward the fort, pur-
sued by dropping shots from others of I-re-ton‘s
gang who had come up. At the gate they’ were
meth a company of the Rifles. under the sad of
a dufl’y, red-faced captain, asfair a specimen of
the genuine John Bull as one would wish to
see. -
A man who knew himself to be—and wished
others to understand that he was—Captain
John E. Brown, of his Majesty’s Rifles.

“ Now where are you going?” queried Ralph,
much in the tone in which one would address a.
school-boy.

“I, young man? I am about to charge into

yonder thicket, and drivo thosa hawling savages
away. It is not fit that his Majesty's fort
should be put in a state of siege by such per-
sons.
“ Colonel,” shouted the scout. “ you certainly
have not sent him on such an expeditionf. They
will have his scalp, and the scalps. of a dozen
good men besides in less than five minutes.”

“ He was sent out to help you, if n .
Having no need ofhls services. he will now
return."

i

 

 

 

  

 

" ‘i ’ ,.

   

Put, the Plucky Sergeant.

  

 

“ But, colonel,” expostulated the captain,
“ only let we charge once. Those wretches will
never stand up to it.”

“ Of course they won’t. More fools if they
would. But if you think that such a thicket as
that is the place for a bayonet charge, all I can
say is, you have very little knowledge of your
business. That jungle would be your Winding-
sheet.”

“ What do you mean, fellow?"

“ Just what I say, fellow,” answered Ralph,
mimicking the tone of the other. with whom he
Was constantly at swords’ points, and had not
the fear of his Majesty, in the person of Captain
John Brown, before his eyes. Passing him with
a contemplative glance, the Scout passed into
the fort. As he did so, a no le-looking oflicer,
in the undress uniform of a. major, fastened on
his arm.

“Glad to see you, Major Bowen. Did you see
me finish oil’ that Indian?”

“ Yes, my lad. How have you been? You
look Well.”

“ I am all right.”

“ Come into quarters. You have not seen
Clara, and have been in an hour. For shame!
what a tardy lover you are.” '

Ra] h laughed, and followed him into the
stone ouse. Passing up a flight of stairs, they
entered a room on the second floor. A girl, seat-
ed at the window, rose at their entrance. and
came toward them with extended hands. Ralph
took them in his, and gave them a silent pres-
sure. He did not drop them at once, but stood
holding one in his own hard palms.

“ I heard you had come in, Ralph.”

The reader need not wonder at the familiarity
of the two. Ralph was the plighted lover of
Clara Bowen.

Clara was beauti fulza brunette, flneLy formed,
with dark hair and eyes, sweet in temper, a de-
voted daughter, and ardent in her attachment
to the bold scout. To Ralph she was not {only
beautiful, but all that was true woman, and he
loved her with all the fervor of his great
heart.

“ Ohl Ralph,” she said, “ I have been waiting
for you, and am so glad you have come. Why
do you follow this terrible life?”

“ Because I cannot help it, Clara. You do
not know how I have come to love it. I can lie
down at night under the shadow of a. cataract,
and look up into the realm of stars above my
head and bless God for such a world as this of
ours. I lead a wild, and perhaps a. dangerous
life. But, I have come to look on life as uncer-
tain, and death may find me anywhere. So let
us say no more of in way of living, Clara, un-
til it is God’s will I s ould choose another.”

“_You have been to Albany,” broke in the
maJOi'. “ Come. come, let Ralph’s way of living
alone. It is well enough, Clara, although I still
wish he had taken the proffered lieutenancy in
my battalion of the Rifles.”

“Ishould have been under Brown,” replied
Ralph, dryly, “ and thatisenoughl And, as for
what I saw at Albany. .16 is easily told. I saw
Abercrombie, and he did not care to help us;
that London did not come; that my word, the
word of a man who never failed them, was

 

  
 
   
    
   
  
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
    
 
   
    
  
   
   
   
    

doubted for that of agMohawk, who afterward,
followed me all the way from Albany. and tried
his best to get my scalp.”

5‘ Ralph!”

“ I can’t help it, Clara. I will say whatI think,
and that is that I have been used' unjustly. '
They alwa 8 do so with us rovincials: And I
tell you, lore, and you jor Bowen, that
they will send over fellows from home who will
crowd the provincials, until they drive them
even to take the sword in self-defense." , ‘

“ You can hardly mean it?" whispered the
major, with a horrified look. .

“But I do, though. I tell you, that the will v
drive this (people to rebel. hey are a rave
people an loyal, but they will never be
tram led upon and' scorned by any power.”

“ on are young, Ralph, and your blood is
hot; for this reason 1 must regard with leniency
your expressions. What you are saying is trea-
son. And now, not that I think such a time.
ever will come, what would you do in case these
provinces did rebel!” ‘

The form of the young man straightened up .
proudly, and his eye dilated, as he replied:

“ You know me to be a man whom love for
the place of his birth is a part of his very soul.
I love old England, but should she 0 press
land where Ifirst drew my breath, could b0 . 
her bitter foe.” ‘ . \

“ You are vexed now, dear Ralph," said Clara.
“You do not believe that this time will ever
come.”

“Pray God it never may, Clara. And yet
I tell you, that I fear it will come, and that,-
too, in this generation, What stuff do, they
think we are made of? There already is a. ten-
denc to load parliamentary taxes upon thp‘
peop e. The provinces will never submit, he-
cause itis gross extortion. My tather’apro rty
lies idle, because I have not time to wort: it.-
But, the taxes I pay are enormous; and with
my limited means, it is a constant struggle”
keep it out of the grasp of the harpies of the,
crown." \

“If your prophecy comes true in my day,
Ralph Warren, shall be found flghtingtot my
king. I have served him faithfully too long to
desert him now. I will always support lawful
authority in every case.” ‘. 

“ Will you also support extortion and injiisi
tics? No. I know you will not, for it is not
your nature to do so. When the time comes,
and you have been tired, you can tell better
where you will be.” -'

“ Enough of this; you have not told me what,
you think of our position. Let us talk of that”.

And the three drew their chairs together'nnd. ' '
sat long into the day, la ing planstor the future.
Tattoo for dinner foun them still there. Then,
in the afternoon, they went out upon the 
pet of the fort, looking out upon the in,
which lay in peaceful glor below them. 
lifted his hand and points outward: ‘ "

“ Wait two wee-ks, and you shall, see yonder-
lske black with ships and hateaux, bearing the"
French against us. Mark in word: the.
French, under Montcalm, will he Omega,
and level your forts with the ground. That
will be the only wakening 6! the delta at Album? '
We shall see.” , ~

    
     
  
 
 

  

   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
     
  
  
   
   
 
  
      
  
   

   

 
 

    
    
     
   

  

\

IMF-Is?"

.. ‘JA‘s.

 

 
 

   

Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

CHAPTER IV.
THE roa, THEY coma!

TEE time passed pleasantly enough in the
forts for a few days. No one, to have seen the
careless throngs of soldiers lounging about the
quarters, the gay groups of officers and their
ladies upon the parades, the canoes flying over
the tranquil water of the harbor, or far out
upon the lake, would have dreamed that the

ceful spot would soon be the theater of
erce and bloody strife.

The scouts had gone out together, and had

been gone some days. Clara began to fear for
the safety of her lover; as what girl would not,
who loved truly? Every day she would go up
to the arapet, and look out into the thick
woodst at walled her in on every side. Her
father was at ease in regard to Ralph. He
how his perfect woodcraft, joined with that
ofhis red friend, would be more than a match
for the wiles of any common foe' and that he
must be a bold and brave, as well as, cunning
man, to circumvent them. ‘
1 While they were watching, one day, the
- scout came in alone. He was travel-stained
and weary, and never turned to the right or left,
but went straight to the colonel’s quarters. He
was closeted with that officer; and then, armed
as he was, without rest, the tireless man went
forth again.

As hepassed on his thoughts shaped themselves

us.

“ Montcalm is on the wing. 1 know it, for I
saw him at Niagara. By this time that swift
schooner has set him dawn at Bay Quinte. He
will be over to-day, and I must see that he don’t
take us nap ' g. I don't know how many men
he has, but if he does come, he will come strong.
Moran is with him. There is more man about
him I: an Montcalm; I have fought them both,
and know it. I wonder where the chief is?
He romised to meet me at this point. Ah l”

edrop‘ped suddenly to the earth, crawling
like a the e along the ledge under whose face he
had been walking. It was a timely act, for a
band of men, of what kind he knew not, had
come out on the face of the cliff above his head.
flashed heard their footsteps, just in season to

' “The great war-chief is on his way, then?”

‘ laid a voice which the scout knew to be that of

'_ the Mohawk I-re-ton, who was speaking in his
usual hoe. tone.

The rep y came smooth and oily, and that
voice he knew as well, and was seized with an
unutterable longing to take him by the throat.
It was one of those men through whose means

I the border of New York witnessed so many
scenes of cruel massacre-a French J esuitl

“Yes, my son,” said the Jesuit, in answer to
the question. “The marquis is on his way; I
am lookng for his sails evey hour.”

‘, “The engees shall be swept from the face

of the cart ,” said the exultsnt warrior. “ I
m it shall hear them howl for mercy. They

‘ to me in vain. I shall dip my hatchet
in the lood of the ‘ Big Elk.’ and the ‘Eagle.’
Shall it not be so, my father?”

“ You say that these two men have done you
i’s it enough wrong to let them die , for?

no

1

l

‘ 4/

‘ nez‘fifpfh‘ ‘niuxufiu-Mrri’ «4.5. i a:

 

“(I ‘.

“They have taken the scalps of our braves,
and made many widows in our lodges: my peo-
ple bowl for their blood. They say, ‘ Give these
men to us.’ They have done me wrong, and
the shall die if they fall into my hands. They
sha I bear the torment of fire.”

“ The chief says well,” replied the oily priest.
“They have done him great wrong, but, the
great father would give many blankets, and mus-
kgzts, o’vvfier and ball, for the ‘ Big Elk,’ and the

a e.

“ hate the Big Elk,” continued I-re-tou. “ I
have sworn to wear his scalp in my belt. There
isa young squaw in the big Wigwam of the
Yengees whom he loves. Her eyes are like the
stars in the clear nights, and her voice like the
music of running Waters. She shall see the
‘ Big Elk’ die, and then go into my w1gwam.
She shall be the squaw of a great chief.”

Ralph set his teeth so hard that he feared
they might hear. He longed to get this flend
once more within range of his rifle.but, the
chief, unconscious of the vicinity of his foe,
talked on:

“ Will my father promise me that the white
squaw shall be mine?”

“ She shall be yours if you are faithful,” was
the answer.

” Will my father go down upon the shore
nowl”

“ Yes.” replied the other. “Let us go.” '

Ralph looked about him in dismay. On one side
the cliff arose like a wall. A move to the right
or left would expose him to their view. While he
pondered, a red hand was thrust out from among
some vines into which he had pressed his body,
and touched him on the arm. Looking down-
ward, he saw the face of Utta-wan peering
out at him from among the leaves. In an
instant. they parted, and he dropped into a
natural cavern in the face of the rocks, worn
out by the force of the waves. He had just
time to press the hand of his red pard, when the
enemy came down upon the beach. They had
increased in number to nearly forty, and with
them was the cowled and shaven wretch who
had aroused the ire of Warren by the manner
in which he had disposed of Clara. With an
involuntary movement he threw forward his
rifle, making a rustling among the leaves. I-re-
ton looked sharply about, but. just then, a
squirrel s rung out froma nook m the rock,
and leaped) ufiward. Attributing the noise to
him, the Mo awk resumed the conversation,
while from their covert, the imprisoned scouts
glared upon their foe.

The chief, .I-re—ton, stood so near the scouts
that either could have touched him with his
rifle. He was a tall, wiry man, with the facial
angles of a hyeua, made flercer h his somber
paint, striped here and there with ark red, and
white bars across the naked breast. The party
cast themselves down upon the beach like men
who meant to wait, and the conversation went

on.

“Why do you hate the ‘ Big Elk?” It was
the Jesuit who spoke. For answer the chief
turned full upon him, threw aside his blanket,
and lifted his left arm to a level with the face
of his questioner. For the first time he saw
that the chief was without a hand!

 _.,.-~5. ‘Jz, _1'._'..""’N I

 

 

 

Put, the Plucky Sergeant. 9

 

“Does my father see this?” he asked, in a
tone of concentrated bitterness, which thrilled
the heart; of his listener. “It was years ago
when that went, and then I swore to the Great
Spirit that I would have the seal of the one
who did it to hang in my belt. ad I swore
never to bury the hatchet in any war until this
was so.”

“ How was it done? What has all this to do
with the ‘ Big Elk?‘ My son is in a fog.”

“Let my father look at it closely, and tell me
how it was done?”

The Jesuit looked closely at the maimed mem—
ber. “ It was done with a bullet first,” he said,
“ and after that, cut off with a sharp instru-
ment.”

“My father is right. He is always ri'rht.
And now he shall know who did it. It was
years ago. upon the Mohawk. The father of
the Big Elk was living there with his son and
squaw. The Mohawks waited scalps, and one
night they took them. But the Big Elk killed
two braves who would have stopped him, and
fled. His eyes can see in the dark. He saw the
chief by the light of the burning Wigwam. The
chief heard his rifle, and a bullet splintered the
bone. The medicine-men said it must come off.
That is the reason I hate the Big Elk.”

“I, too, hate the man,” said the Jesuit, the
evil in him glaring from his eyes. “He has
been a scourge to my nation. Not an expedi—
tion could we .lan to drive the heretics down to
the pit, but e knows it, and tells it to his
friends. He, and that red scoundrel whom you
call Eagle, and who is known to us as Ut—ta-
wan, have done more harm to the cause of
France in these regions than Abercrombie ever
will. 1 would like to take him a prisoner to
Quebec, if I could, but I will keep my word
with you."

“Got long tongue, Big Elk. Talk, talk to
war-chief at Albany (Alrercrombie), an’ tell
him dat French come to take Oswe 0. Big
fool, dat war-chief. l-re-ton tole him ( at ‘ Big
Elk’ tell lie. French t’ink Yengees goin’ to try
take Quebec or Montreal, an” so him not send
dat time any more men to ()swego."

“ Then you saw Warren at Albany?”

“See him dere. Long tongue, tell you. Git
very mad at war-chief an’ come back. Try to
catch him on Seneca, but him swim under water
like fish, and get ’way. Nex time me catch him,
take him scalp, sure.”

“ How did he escape you?”

“ Don‘t know, sure. Git ’way somehow.
Den we chase, and dey kill five, six warrior,
take four scalp, very bad; sorry (lat Eagle got
so many scalp.” '

Ut—ta-wan almost chuckled in his den among
thelaaves. How well it pleased him that his
enemy knew he had taken scalps, it isimpossible
to say. Certain it is, that only the knowledge
of the danger 1t_would bring Ralph, restrained
him from assaying the taking of another scalp
at once,

All at once there arose a great clamor, and
they saw their adversaries running down the
beach. What could it mean? The scout thrust
his head out of the cavity and watched. He
saw them pointing up the lake and shouting.
Something evidently had occurred.

 

Not a man was left at the camp-fire. Crawling
slowly out, the two crept silently up to the int
which hid the Indians from their view. he
now plainly saw what it was that had rouse
the tumult. A great fleet of schooners and
bateaux were upon the lake, bearing down up
on the land. The tri-color flaunted from every
mast, and the rowers were humming a Cane-N
dian boat-song. 0n the row of the stanchest‘
schooner stood Montca m, with his leading
officers about him. The scouts grasped their
rifles, and looked at one another. Here was the
scourge of their borders in their power. need-
ed only a fine-drawn head, and good-by t earth
for him.

The impulse was momentary only, and then
Ralph struck up the extended piece of his friend,
whose conscience would not have troubled him
had he shot the French marquis then 691
there. ‘

“Go to the garrison with the news,” said
Ralph. ,

The Indian did not wait for further Orders;
but tightening his belt, and turning a farewell
look on his friend, he climbed the cliff and
bounded away. Then all at once rose a shriller
clamor—greater than had hailed the comin of
the French, for I-re-ton’s braves had seen t eir
foe and started in pursuit, Ralph 015 into his
covert in great haste, knowing that e could be
of no use to the Onondaga now.

CHAPTER x. i-Y
EAGLE nvs’s RUSE.

THE Onondaga ran like a hunted deer. Prob-
ably there was not one in the band who could
compete with him if he had not been worn down
by fatigue. But, even now, he was a wily and
dangerous foe, running at ease, at times looking .
over his shoulders, to satisfy himself of the-
whereabouts of his enemies. There were two
miles between him and the forts; but an unfore-
seen obstacle was in his path, otherwise he
would have had no trouble in coming safely in.
This was in the shape of a band of Mohawks,
who were coming up from below tojoin the
French. No sooner did he hear them calling to
each other than he ran down a steep bank to
the shore, and out upon a platform of rock,
from which he had a fair view of the cliff.

The Indians gathered from every side, and,
presently I-re-ton, with half a dozen of his men;
made his appearance upon the rock above. He
uttered a cry of joy, even while the rifle of the
Onondaga was pointed at his heart.

“ What does the renegade Mohawk here?”
demanded the haughty warrior.

“ He is here,” re lied I-re-ton, “to ask the
Eagle Eye to give imself up into his hands.’
What hope is there for the Eagle of the Onon—
daga? Let him look to the rising sun; my war—
riors are there. Let him look to the setting
sun: behold they are there. Let him look to the
northf [am here!"

The chief returning his rifle to a rest, folded
his arms upon his stalwart breast and laughed.
He looked like a forest king standin there, and
his clear laugh ringing out upon t 0 air. He
would have laughed at the stake just the mine. .

“ Does the Eagle yield? We have brave tor-
tures for him.”

 

 

10

“I t on your tortures!” was the reply.

" young men are ready, and they long to
Ight theéfl‘es‘about him; to dim his eyes, and
hear 9 earls-cry of a great chief.”

“ 3 Mohawks are snakes that crawl in [the

as; file are dust in the eyes of a warrior.

hnn'é'egtimes have I gone out to battle, and

w Imp h s my hatchet drank of their blood.
5, uld laid to them now?”
“ bro er a fish, that he should swim

away . Al’r'l if he could, are not my young men
befor him 2 .

He' as right. A canoe lay resting calmly
u fthe he, a few yards fnom the shore, jusr.
vfigle in , e twili ht. for it was now growing

‘ Again the c ief laughed.

’2 f thq'renegade wants me, let him come and

mal'” As he spoke he suddenly threw for-
his rifle, and, when the others, who
V to the mmdodged behind the cliil’
\flg' the? bullet ' ed above them, again
 the Onondaga was not to be seen!

anish they knew not how, into the solid
lock! Wifl: mad cries, the plunged down the
duo. certain that- he lay hi den behind some of
may bowkiers scattered here and there: but
he not to be found. His rifle, indeed, lay
Whose be had dropped it, but he was not

than.
' Thy watched all night, and then, confident
» ‘Athathe had been spirited away by the unseen
 of air—of w ich the Indian ever stands
' and awe—they made their way back to
:the afihp o! Montcalm.
Bandy were they'out of sight, when the
prow ofaeanoe 'ght have been seen slowly
» um ’ from e water, just before the
. . It was the lost craft of I-re~ton, and
motive power was Ut-ta-wan, whose brown
and lhouhlm‘s followed immediately, an
of inhnse enjoyment resting on his
‘ bronco f In a moment more, he dragged
’ htnulf out upon the rock. When I—re-ton
lost ' t of him at first, he had simply dropped
down the cleft before mentioned, and the
water chased over him.
When the chief sunk from sight, he rose slow-
}; to the wrfaee, and a plied his ear to one of
} ovum holes. 9 could hear the muffled

as they trampled to and fro, and their
exclamation came to his ears. Then
6 them go away, nd, swimming out of

gar open' , he cl mbed over the edge,
aged-seen b t e last Indian, as before de-

 
  
 
 

m
mi . Be nged in again, and was safe in
‘ stl'nnge haunt. Looking out upon the lake,
‘he saw the men in the canoe paddling to
the there. As fortune would have it.
the landed upo a rock, and joined the others
in eir search. This was the moment for the
bid; so swiming out, he laid his hand upon
0 gnnwale of the little craft, and dragged it
'W outer opening, leaving it lying upon
the pub y bottom. He had now a way of
‘ g , when the enemy retired from the shore,
would leave him in no danger of being
w . soon as he was sure they were
6 out, righted the canoe, and pad-

we

 

ward the fort, which he reached in
e met'elara on the parade; her mild eyes

.V

r- hp

,1

 

 

 

Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

questioned himpmying: “What have you done
with your friendl’ he Indian knew that the
brave scout loved her. and so she was very
dear to him, as well.

“ Where is Ralph ’1'” she said.

“ Lef’ him, las’ night.”

“ Was he in danger?"

“ S’pose so. Always danger, mos’
Ra] ’ much brave—no care.”

“ as he in any immediate danger?” .

“‘ What ’medinte be!"

“ What was he doing?"

“ Oh, him scouting, den,"

“ Why did you leave him?”

“ Him say: ‘ Run to fort, chief, an’ tell fader
dat French come.’ Him stay fur scout. Mus’
go now, tell old fader.”

He passed on into the commandant’s quarters,

ausing to exchange a rough greeting with
.‘ergeant Pat Mooney, between whom and him-
self a strange liking was growing up. Pat liked
him because, as he said: “ The ould varmint
was afraid of nothing at all," Ut—ta-wau liked the
“Irisher,” as he called him, for his ofiyhand
kindness and genuine good—nature. Hardly
had.the bnondaga passed five minutes with the
colonel, when be rushed out in hot haste, and
rapid drum-beats called the soldiers to quarters.
The speech of the officer was prompt and to
the point. Five thOUSand French and Indians
threatened them. They would fi ht, not alone
for their own lives, but for the ives of their
wives and children.

Long before noon, the skirmishers of the
French began to appear along the edge of the
woods, and many shot were sent into the em-
brasures. The fort remained silent, for ammuni-
tion was too precious to be wasted upon an
enemy not yet fully seen.

The morning was spent in casual firing;but
the wily Montcalm was working with all his
power, aided by the skill and energy of his
friend, Moran, upon the heavy batteries.

The most powerful of these was situated at
the point mentioned in the note, while another,
scarcely less powerful, stood upon the lake-
shore, a few rods from the bank. In both of
these the Frenchman mounted h‘fi‘fiy guns,
which done, he sent an aide to demand the
surrender of the fort.

The young messenger sauntered easily across
the open space, striking off clover-tops with
his stick, as if unconscious that a thousand
mnskets were grinningat him over the parapet.
He held the tr ce-flag slightly advanced, and
the firing ceas along their line. As be ap-
proached the huge gate, it swung slowly back,
and the messenger was admitted into the fort.
The young man was led into the presence of the
commandant. who, with the stately courtesy of
the day, welcomed him. He listened to the
demand for surrender quietly, and as quietly
refused to accede to the terms, which were uncon-
ditional surrender. The aide hinted 1n glowmg
colors the horrors of an In ian massacre, and
how impossible it would be for the whites to
restrain them, if they were forced to take the
place by assault: but the Englishman was firm,
and the youn man took his leave, protesting
that he washed his hands of the matter.

times.

:f’iwn‘wm? 

 

 

. 5.4m... Ma-unn‘aWK“

ma

 

   
     
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
     
  
   
  
     
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
 

Put. the Plucky Sergeant. ll

 

 CHAPTER VI. " aidoubt, 15nd Montcalm never goes aside from
; run MAJoa’s BUSINESS. h‘i‘fflfg'wm he die?" ,
. JUST as he went away, he said, casually: “That is as it hap ns;perhaps by card or"

; “ By the way, colonel, we have one of those bullet, perhaps by the ndians; who knows? They
‘ scouts of yours, who gives you such good infor- took him, and it they choose to demand him,
mation. He was taken lust night.” Montcalm will have to give him up. They hate
“ What scout. sir?" him with a deadly hatred.” '
“ The man who has given us more trouble “ Break the news to her when I am one,
than all your Rifles put together, who roams colonel,” as d Bowen. “ It will be easfer to
 the country in company with yonder Onondaga.” tell her i I ail.” .
i, Ut—ta-wan leaned forward, drinking in every The colonel would have marched at the head
'9 word. of his regiment against a battery sooner than
i “ You seem to know him?” undertake the commission. but, he could not re-'
; “ I think I do. Ciel! They took me prisoner fuse. The two passed out together, proceeding
:' \ once, when I was taking dispatches from Fronte- at once to the marquee of Montcalm, whom they.
1‘ nactoCrowu Point. I had passed safely through found seated at a table looking over a plan of
' to the Horicon, and prided myself on the pro— the fortification, in company with his adviser,
motion that was sure to come, when, scelerats, Moran. Both rose as the messenger and'thei,

 

i

i they were upon my back 1” English major entered, and the plan was folded, _

 “ What will be done with him?” asked Major ant laid a51de.

; Bowen, hoarsely. “ You have come to surrender the post,

i “ Done, mon ami?” said the Frenchman, major?”

% turning quickly upon him, and taking him by “ I have not, sir. Your aide will give you

i the button; “ he was taken within our lines as a my commander’s views on that subject.” V

i spy—as a spy! mind you. I would not give a. “ W hat is it, Perrie?” said the marquis sharp,

sou for his life.” and nick. > "

“ He will be executed?” “ e will not yield." ' r
“ Without doubt, sir.” “ The blood be upon his own head, then. Bu
“ Could I see him i” I will make one more effort, for I do not wish to:

.  “ I doubt it. Montcalm is sorely vexed at let my Indians loose u on you, as I must do ifyqu:
' him, and he says that he must be closely watch- continue stubborn. ome with me, major, and»
9’

ed_ I will show you with what you are contending
,' 7 At this moment the Onondaga came up, and You must know the strength of my army." .
i" made a gesture of impatience. He took the arm of the major, and theypaso-g
' “ My brother is going?" ed out of the tent, accompanied by Moran and .

“ He is, Eagle Eye. You have not changed Perrie. They halted in a atural clearing in the“
much since I had the pleasure of meeting you on rear of the French war 5. The drums were?
‘ the Horicon.” ' heating for parade, and battalion after battalion
“ Get you dat time. S'pose we use you had, was comin into the space. The major‘s soldierr
no iv’ you ’nqu to eat, no:- nuflin’i” » eye roame over the bristling line of the French
“ on treated me liken. prince, and I promised saw the clock-like precision of their movemenfl,
to remember it.” - and he could not refrain from giving an excla-

 
   
 
    
  
     
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
 

“ S’pose you take dis to Big Elk. den.” mation of pleasure at their soldierly appeal-h
The chief held out a small ivory ball, with arms. . z > i
3 curious carvings upon it. The Frenchman look- “You admire them. sir; and you do well, 
ed at it suspiciously, turning it from side to a better drilled set of men, or a braver, do 3%,,
side. tread American soil to-day. You see here ‘1
“ No he ’fraid, won’t bite,” said the chief. part of our force. and BOW—” , ‘ ‘ ' L‘
“ Do you give me your words that this ball is He gave some quick order to one of his. aidw
not some trick to st him out?” it flushed down the lines from mouth to mou
“ Bin wid Big lk long time. One day fln’ two and the glittering rank fell away to the
4‘ bones like dat. Medicine, very great medicine! At the same time, a rattle and confused din

Charm! Mus’ promise to take it to Big Elk, else upon the ear coming from the forest

not send; wait till major go. When he see dat Louder it grew, and then a long line of dusky”
he know Onondaga nebber leave him,” warriors, with bared hatchets and shouldered
“I will promise. It makes very little diflfer~ muskets, illed slowly into the glade. gla‘

once. as he dies so soon. Yes, I will take it.” savugfly at the major, whose hated scarlet -
“ Let me go with him,” now pleaded Major they new at once. They were chanting a liqu
Bowen with his commandant, “ and see what I age war-song, a wild symphony, which in aura,
can do for the poor fellow. Consider, colonel, lan uage is nothing, but in theirs, terrible. '
that he is the betrothed husband or my child, Nfajor Bowen’s heart grew sick as the rank
and I dare not go to her'and tell her that he dies of those human fiends went by, glaring at h
in the morning. ’ thmugh their paint. He saw, too, the lit
“Go,” replied the colonel. “ Take the flag hopelessness of a combat with such a force,
with you, and offer Captain Du Plessisfor Ralph. Perhaps Montcalm read his thoughts in hista 3;
I doubt not the exchange may be made.” for a satisfied smile passed over ‘the -F is,
Montoalm’s aide shook his head: man’s countenance. Linking his arm into' i rue
“You are over sanguine, sir. Montcalm will of the major, Montcalm led him back to“ '

nevsr not him free, now that he has him safe. can)? .
I myself heard him say that he must die, beyond “ on have now seen our tons, “a ‘» .. .
‘ ' l . ‘ . _  . "

 

m..- .m..m-.‘an_._u_- ~ A



    

 

I

      

  

4

 

Put, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

  
   
 
   
    
  
  
    
 
    
  
   
    
   
   
  
   
    
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
  

hilly with what you have to contend. Yen shall
also see our batteries.” They left the tent, and
‘ down to the river-bank, where the heavy
,guns Ralph had seen were planted. So high
_ ’ was the hind? at this point that it rose somewhat
{"higher than either fort, and a slight plunge
,- could be given to the shot.

The ma'or looked over the work with a criti—
cal e e. ontcalm laughed.

“ hope you can find no fault with this?”

“ Every fault in the world, sir. The shot
. ,trom this battery will discomfort us somewhat.

“In fact, 1 do not know but we shall be forced to
use our shelters from time to time. But, sir, it
.you will take the troubleto look at the fort,
, on will see agun in the southern embrasure.
4  hat gun is nearly as heavy as any you have
ere and when you send your compliments to
"no, “I will engage to return them from that
‘piece. Only you must excuse me it you do not
“get u for gun.” .

“ i!" muttered the marquis. “ Paste. Can
:1 not frighten him at all? How long, major,
do you suppose yonder tort will stand against
our batteries?”

“That remains to be proved, sir. I think it
the made to stand a month, provided your
"batteries sustained no injury.”

, Montcalm looked at him sharply, as he said
. this. but made no comment, and the four went

' hack. Perrie was amused that the great mar-
‘ ills could not scare the Englishman, and en-
}oyed .his chagrin Very much. They were soon
’eeated iu the ten eujofiing a bottle of wine of
are vintage, w ich ad ripened upon the
iglopes of sunny France, long years before.

' ‘, But you have not fully stated your business
y dear major,” said Montcalm. “ Does it
, :ooncern me alone?”

“.I did not come here to see your force, mar-

, But while in our works, your aide re-
_V said the fact that you had a very dear friend
of mine in your hands. This person I very
1» ch desire to see, and it is in your power only
-'togrant it.” _

"‘ Who may it be?”

"“His name is Ralph Warren.”

. ‘. The ma uis leaned back, and looked the

‘ an. r stea fly in the face, evidently annoyed

g pained at the request.

CHAPTER VII.
IN BONDS.
KIWI: left Ralph Warren crouching in his den
fl mong the leaves, from whence he had seen the
«hand go by in pursuit of the chief, and then be
game out to watch. Seeing by their movements
thatthe meant to camp for the night, he went
{back to is covert and lay down to sleep.
‘ 7A8 he lay there, an Indian passed in company
711th in French captain. A few feet from him
 paused, when the officer, giving some brief
91‘ to the Indian, turned back. Near the
ash he stopped, and stooped to fasten his shoe.
Jwil‘his was the moment for the scout, for it brought
1 Whoother, within reach of his hand. Drawing a
$51101, he hit him such a rap across the back of
4. a head that he came heavily to the ground.
fiestin ing his prostrate foe, he began to
r phim of is uniform, and to invest him with
( own clothing. The fanciful suit of the

(5'
er

 

 

 

assists/xiii  ' . v: 4:;

young man, who was a stout fellow, very near

his own size, was soon disposed to advantage on

his person. This done, he left him to ” chew

the cud of sweet and bitter fancies," in the

agape of a two—inch pine stick, to his heart‘s con-
nt.

Passing below the sentry to whom he had
heard the officer speak, he was hailed by a sud-
den “ Qui time I” from the next post. Ralph
was a perfect master of the Canadian French,
and the sentry, who had seen him pass the post
above, never suspected him.

“I have forgotten the pass-word,” he whis-
pered, “ give it. me.”

The man laughed. “ Avez vous quelque
chose?" (Have you anything?)

“ Je n’ai rien (I have nothing), except this,”
was the reply, “and as I consider it a pity that
so good a soldier as yourself should be destitute
of something warm on such a night as this.
therefore—” he placed a flask in the soldier’s
hand. The follow dropped his musket into the
hollow of his arm, and then elevated the bottom
of the flask. He10wered it with a sigh of set—
isfaction, and looked as though he would like to
repeat the dose.

“ Do that again, comrade,” said Ralph, “ after
you have given me the countersign.”

“ The countersign is, ‘ Montcalm,’ ” replied
the sentry, “and I will do that again.” The
bottom of the flask rose into the air. ,

“ Keep it, comrade, since you like it so well,
and look’to your duty. English scouts may he
lurking about, and you would not like to have
one of them get ahead of you in any way. They
sometimes do sharp things.”

“ Indeed they do, Capitaine Hubert. I re-
member once while we were at Louisburg, a vile
spy of the English came upon me on the island,
and tied me neck and heels, while he marched
about on my beat, and took a full view of the
battery. That was the way we lost it.”

“Do you know what they call him?”

“ That 1 do. He is called Warren by us, but—
the Indians call him Big Elk l”

“ Is he so large?”

“ About your size, capitaine.” ‘

“ Would you know him it you saw him
a sin?”

“I think I would, indeed. I would know him
by his great bushy head, and hoarse voice.
remember how he walked my beat, with my
musket in his hand, too well. They do say he
is in yonder fort.” “

“ Certainly he is. And you must look out for
him. Try the flask again, comrade."

“ Let him but come near me, and I will make
him mine, sure,” said the other, valorously.

“ Do so, comrade; and, in the mean time. do
not shout out in that manner. You will have
the emcer of the guard upon you, to find out
what this noise is about.”

“ I thought you were oflicer of the guard,
capitaine?” _

‘ So I was, but I was detailed for special
duty; something a little private. The oficer of
the guard is Capitaine—Capitaine—Peate.V I
can never speak his name. But it does not mat-
ter. I must go.” '

Passing the second line, he soon made his way
into the camp by means at the pass-word so

   

 

 «5.3 .' .‘r..:&;»:m~me~oers 

 

  

 

'Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

easily ained. It was a busy and exciting
scene. very one was reparing for the com-
ing fray. Avoidin the ight of the camp-fires,
he stood about in t e shadows, listening to the
conversation of the officers and soldiers.

Twice he was hailed by officers, and failed to
notice them. One turned away in high wrath,
muttering about “ that fellow Hubert, stuck
up because the Old Baron , had deigned to
notice him, so much, that he cut old friends in
that shameful manner.” He found head-quar-
ters soon, by the great flag which hung from its
white pavilion, and passed it by, brushing the
canvas with his hand.

He drew a knife and cut a small hole in the
tent-cloth. Like the Wound of merry Mercutio,
“It was not so deep as a well, nor as wide as a
church door, but was enough.” Through it he
obtained a view of the interior.

Nearly a dozen officers were within, many of
whom he knew, for he had met them on the
battlefield and in the hivouac when they little
mistrusted his presence. There was lthe mar-
quis, who would have been chosen as the leader
of the great enterprise by the most casual
observer.

“ Where is Hubert De Lisle?” said the baron,
all at once raising his head. .“He has a chart
which I desire to compare with this.” \-

“ Sire,” said one oflicer, “ I saw Hu bert, nearly
an hour ago paSsing through the camp, in com-
pany with the Indian chief, Un-da-min.”

“Isent him," replied the baron, “ and it is
time he returned. He was only to pass the
outer line with the indian,’ send him on his way,
and then :eturn.”

“ He has returned, sire,” said the youn est
officer of the party. whom the scout remem er—
ed as having been vexed because he would not
answer him a short time before. “I met him
near the marquee not ten minutes a 0, but
thinking he was coming here, and as he id not
choose to notice me, I let him .”

“ You must be mistaken,’ said the baron.
“I ordered him to come here on his return. and
Hubert always obeys orders. You still think it
was him i"

“ i know it was him. There is no one of the
stair except himself and Perrie Du Bois who
have the cross of the Legion. It was not Perrie,
for he is six inche shorter than Hubert. I am
so confident that it was he, thatI will go out,
find him, and bring him to you at once.”

“ Go,” said the baron.

The oung officer passed out, and brushed
hurried y past the spot where the scout lay, who
drew back with a scarcely suppressed chuckle
as he thought that the object of the search was
half a. mile away, gag ed and bound, lyin
undera bush dressed in uckskin leggings an
hunting-shirt.

Just then a sudden tumult was heard in the
out t8. and men werehurrying from the center
oft ecamp. The part in the tent leaped up,
and ran to the door, w th the exception of the
marquis and baron, who sat immovable. The
clamor grew louder and approached the tent.
Ralph, peeping out fora solution of the mystery,
was favored with one which pleased him very
little. A man, bare-headed, and dressed in the
buoklkins of a scout, was rushing down toward

 

him. As he came nearer, he reco nized . ~
features of Monsieur Le Capltaine ‘ubert DQ
Lisle, whom he thought snugly ensconced under
a bush, far away from the tent, and the power
of harming him. , i f
He was mistaken. Captain Hubert was a very
sharp man, and knew enou h to be still until he
was sure that the scout won (1 not return and kill
him; then began to roll tOWard the nearest pick-f 1
at. It was a hazardous enterprise, and a very =
slow one at that, for the bonds of the scout
wenld not yield an inch.
“ Jaqncs!” shouted he.
“ Le diable,” returned the sentry.
vine E)”
“ A friend, with the countersign.”
“ Advance, friend, and give the countersink"
“ Montcalm! But I can’t advance, asI am,
tied hand and foot. Come here, J aques, and helpu
me. You have let a cursed spy into your camp" "
in my uniform.” . 11* '
“ Not I,” replied the soldier “ He went be:
low. Don’t be in such a hurry, capitaine; I cults
never untie this knot while you jump about $0:
He knew how to tie a knot that tied thil”. ‘ '
“ Cut itl Cut itl” gasped the captain. r
The sentry had only cut the buckskin n v- V ;
about his feetl when the captain leaped 11% overs A,“
turning him in his haste and only thin ng ' '
bringing the scout to justice, and not of his - :
sonal appearance, foaming at the mouth wt
rage, he ran to the marquee of Montcalm. , Into
this he plunged, in considerable excitement,
gardless of the fact that so many distingu . « .
ofiicers were present, presenting himself meta?
morphosed to such a ludicrous extent that
young officers laughed in spite of themselvaI. ‘
would certainly never have thought of enter! .
the presence of the great marquis in such and '
nified haste under any other circumstances. 
Ralph began to feel a little uneasy; bu 1
his 1ife;he could not help laughing at the _ ' n ..
crous figure out by this young gallant. He h ‘
discarded the coonskin at the outset, and ' - ’
peered with the simple covering for bis' 4 ,
which nature gave him. The hunting-shirt  '4
been put on him more for convenience than [ho
by the scout; for, in his haste, he had; 
buttons behind. His hands were still tied be-
his back. ~ i‘.
Dire was the confusion in the tent. Ev v- '
began to question him, in various ways. 0
0a m leaped to his feet. ‘ ’ 
“ What now! Hubert?” thundered he. “tha
means this masquerade?” , 3‘
“ It means sire,” replied the other, halfth
by assion, ‘ that] have been notoriouslya « 2
an that you have work before you.” ' "
The spy drew back with a look of grim d w x
mination upon his face. It was plain to. hint;
that he had run his head into a trap, from .
fact that he had not anchored the captain to
tree. As he withdrew, he heard him say: W
“ I have been shamefully ill-treated.

 

 

    
 
   
    

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means’.’ likewise, that you have a spy in 1
camp. a ,

The marquis cut the thongs which bound:
hands With a dagger lying near by. “ New
said he, “ speak. . 1‘»

The ca tain lunged at once into ,hil' ' ‘
pausing, rom me to time, to utter/1nku

. I v as, -

 

   

 

 

Put, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

against the spy. The marquis heard enough to
convince him that a spy was in the camp, and
then he sprung out into the o n air.
1 “He! there Ca tain Du oisl" he shouted.
“Take a guard on search the camp. Spread
out everywhere; look for a man in our uniform.
. ' Paste, we are doing Well if we suffer this at the
outset.” ,

 

CHAPTER VIII.
I-RE-TON TAUNTING RALPH.

RALPH saw his danger, but, at the same time,
could notsee how he could better himself by
movin . Indeed, he thought it the safest place
be con d find; for who could believe that a spy
would have the audacity to cut a hole in the
general's tent and peep through?

' He looked into the tent upon his right. No
_. ‘ one was within and he was about to withdraw,
. . when his eye fell upon a pile of army blankets
' in one corner. He stepped into the place with
the intention of hiding under them, and doubt-
less would have accomplished his object and lain
concealed until the alarm had in some measure
subsided, when, unluckiiy, he stumbled over a
half-drunken Indian chief, who was sleeping on
.the blankets. Up started the Huron, with a
wild yell. and grappled with the daring scout.
He did not know his man. In an instant the
strong hands dashed him to the earth. Seizing
‘ him by the throat, he dashed his head a ainst
the tent-pole. The strong limbs of the ndian
' straightened out, and, with aglance at the pros-
~ trate body, the scout arose.

He had work before him now. The yells of
the Huron had been heard, and hundreds were
1" ', hurrying to the t. The scout looked not
melt, but,‘drawing his. knife, he cut a long slit
in the tent-cloth and went out.

The French were shouting on the other side,
. and while they were doing this, the scout was
making time the other way. To tell the
,truth, there was some hesitation about entering
the tent, for the man who would come alone
into an enemy’s camp, would strike hard for his
life. They hesitated some time, and then rushed
in together, and found onlya stunned Huron
, your! many footprints. _

 So far it was bad; for, by this time, the spy
: : was on the other side of the camp. They were
hesitating what course to pursue, when sudden
yells broke out from the Huron camp; the In.
. inns had scented their game.

usoit was. The scout, in the full glare of a
. campfire, had met a renegade Englishman, who
-» had joined his fortunes with the Hurons after
«he had been whipped at the post in Albany.
’l‘he scoundrel knew him at once, and set the
Hurons on him. What could he do? He was at
once 0v weretl by numbers and taken prie
3"Aoner. an ad into the presence of Montcalm.

if} . The Frenchman studied him like a book for
1" some moments before he spoke. The fame of
‘4 the Big Elk had reached him, and for the first
time he saw the man.

- “ This is the first time we have met,” he said.

. “You are mistaken, marquis. I have met
you often before.”

. ,‘fiWhere _if I may ask?"

. , “ Severaltimes. Once in Quebec, and twice
"in Montreal." '

 

 
 
 
      
   
 
   
 
 
   
  

 

p

     

 

“ {on have been ill: lgontreal, then?"

“ have repeated .

“In Quehec'!" y

“ Yes, sir, several times.”

“ In each case you went as a spy?”

“ Rather a home question, marquis; but I
have no hesitation in saying that I went to see
what I could, and learned all I wished.”

“ You know the penalty?”

“ I think I do.”

“ Death 1”

“I expect i ”

" And you do not fear it?”

“ No man can say truthfully that he has no
fear of death. I am not one who would shrink
from it, and yet I do not seek it. I have learn-

‘ ed to face death bravely as any man may; but I

do not cling to life so lightly, that I may not
loose my hold with regret.”

“ What would tempt you to leave the Eng-
lish, and do service under the rince I serve?
All you have done against us wi I be forgiven,
and you will find a welcome among us.”

‘é ’lltlohsieur Le Capitaine De Lisle will call me
on . ,

Montcalm smiled. “ Am I to understand that
you 'oin us?”

“ o!” thund‘ered the scout. “A thousand
times. no!" -

“ You refuse. Very well; the offer was well
meant. A court-martial will attend to your
case to-night, and you will becondemned. Your
fate is in your own hands. Lead him away, and
guard him well. Monsiepr will have the kind-
ness to return the clothes he borrowed from my
aide Captain de Lisle.”

“'l‘hey are entirely at his service.” replied
Ralph, casting a side glance at the discomflted
hero of the buckskins. “ I have only to ask that
you will return the apparel I lent him upon the
occasion you speak 0 .” -

“ Canaille .” haif—shrieked the other. “ If you
were not a prisoner, I would kill you!”

The scout was led away tot e guard-tent,
and heavily ironed. A double guard was set
about the tent, and he was left alone.

Casting himself upon his blanket, he turned
his face to the wall, and pondered on his situ-
ation.

The night assed, and the flush of the morn-
ing brought im out for his trial. That farce
was soon over. He was condemned to suffer
death on the next day at noon. He was led
back to his risen tent. As he , I-re-tou
came up an struck him on the ace. Could he
have freed his hand for a moment, that blow
would have been the dastard‘s death-warrant.
As it was, the risoner tugged fiercely at his
bonds, and nas ed his test at the Mohawk. If
a look coul have blasted, the rascal would have
sunk dead at his feet.

He was sitting where the sunlight fell upon
his bowed head, as it rested on his knees,
when a cat-like tread told him that another
was in the room. Raising his head, he saw
I-re-ton. His face was the picture of hellish joy,
and he laughed aloud as the eyes of Ralph were
lifted to his. The heart of the risoner was not
so disci lined that he could loo on this man’s
face an not be angry. He saw in him the mur-
derer of his father; the face of his mother, and

 

A 41-11.235-2‘2' : j .

."_

 

 

Pat. the Plucky Sergeant. 15

 

that swect baby sister, were ever before his eyes.
He leapud u , but his chains smote together
with a disma clang, and he sunk d0w again.
The gratified smile deepened on the face of the

chic .

“ The Ell: leaps long,” he said, “ but dis time
he has il‘Hlltd too far.”

Ralph glared at him without reply.

“The lu‘lk is no longer bold,” continued the
Indian, in a taunting tone; “ he has become a.
snake in the grass. He crawls among the tents
of the French, and they know him not. But
when he goes among the wigwams of the
Hurons and Mohawks, their eyes are sharp, and
they see the snake.”

Ralph still was silent.

“ Does my brother feel pain? Do the irons of
the white man chafe his wrists? He has been
bound before, and did not flinch. But, now,
he is like a whipped cur.”

The other strained at his bonds, till they
cracked and grated harshly at the effort, and
the strong muscle stood out n on his arm like it
suddenly swollen stream. '1‘ eIndian laughed
again.

“ Has my brother no message to send to the
fort? We are going, to-morrow, to take it.
Will ‘you send word to the ‘ Wild Rose,’ by me?
The Wild Rose' is mine. She shall be my
squaw. She shall cook my venison, and share
the lodge of a brave."

Ralph had listened to the taunts of his red
foe, until his blood was boiling, and when the
wretch dared to taunt him with what he would
do with Clara, and coupled her name with his,
he rose, suddenly, and reared his manacled
hands on high. Straight and swift the irons de-
scended upon the feathered crown of l-re-ton,
crushing him to the earth. The guard heard the
blow, and, rushing in, found Ralph kneeling
over the fallen man, with hands raised in the at-
titude of repeating the blow.

“ Take him out,” said he, fiercely. “I do
lnot kpow if he is dead, or not. I tried to finish

im.

“He is head chief,” said the guard, “and
you have struck a bad blow for yourself. Let
im alone, will you, while I call help.”

A heavy tramp of feet aroused Ralph, and
the guard came slowly in. With him came
Montcalm, and a half-dozen minor officers, to
see how the chief fared. Without looking at
the prisoner, and with stern 6 es, Montcalm
ordered the soldiers to convey t e body to his
tent, and gave it in charge of his chief sur-
geon. Only once he looked at Ralph, as the
men were going. The scout could not under-
stand the strange look with which the general
regarded him. Then he went out, and once
more the scout was alone. He heard the rat-
tling volleys of musketry through the morning,
and, at very long intervals, :1 shot from the fort
—a rifle-shot, for the besieged used no cannon,
as yet. Whenever these shots were heard, he
would start from his blanket, until a stern,
“ Lie downl" from his guard, warned him that
he was never to join in battle again, and he fell
back with a moan.

When the midday came, he seemed to feel
a sort of languor, and, turning his face to the

i,

 

wall, forgetting the strife of lumen passivity
in his own breast, as well as all around 11111:, the
brave man slept an unbroken sleep.

CHAPTER IX.
Tnn SIEGE.

THE major had asked to see Ralph.

“ He is your ' nd, you so. i” .

“ He is ver (ear to may The betn‘ied a
my daughter. ’

“ And on have a message from her to v '

“ She can not yet know that he is a
oner.” .

“ I am very sorry for her, and for you."

“ Why so, sir?”

“ Because he must die tomorrow,” be qr
swercd, quietly.

“ So soon! What has he done? '

“ Don’t, major; you are too old Bandit! 
that. He was caught spyingr about myaaulfi
tied one of my officers, Moran s aide here
and heels, took his uniform, and allied into
camp. He ot hold of the counters n in, .
way—how, have not yet learned —and mfi
about camp at his leisure. It, the
thing I ever heard of. Come [5 —-1 MM 12)
show you something.” .

The major followed him to the side 1% go
marquee, and the Frenchman insin ated -
ger into a small hole in the ten

“ You see this?”

The major nodded.

“ Well, without doult, this friend of yours
cut that hole, and looked in while we were
planning the assault on yonder wont. How can
you expect anything but death for him!”

The major turned away with a sigh. He was
soldier enough to know that the stern r of
the service demanded a sacrifice, and that
wasldoomed, unless he %Ol;1d gunmen h

t is a ity, too; u i can-opt fined.
The man is Ibrave, and true gunfight . I
will confess to you, man amt, at I We t'hG’
fellow a commission if he would come over
our side, and he spurned it with contain ’ ,

“You would have despised him ha he afi-
cepted your offer,” said the major, “and 3})!
did not know thelnan, cry would never have
made the overture. I won erhe 013 wt dash
his irons into your face.”

“ You are a bold man major, but, at the .
same time, right enough. iBut come, I wil take
you to your friend.”

The two passed through the cantor of the
camp. Few French were in it, for Hi were
down by the bank of the river, and the ore of
the lake, making more complete their eres,
which were to carry destruction into the-Sorta
of the English. The guard-tent was silent.
Only five stern fellows paced steadily to and fro
on every side. Them presented arms as the
marquis passed in, and the two stood in" the
presence of Ralph. »

He was asleep, a rare specimen of manly
grace. Their sill became such Tani)! his.
The marquis p 'uted admirineg at n, ing,
in a whisper: ,‘ = ~.

“ He is the best formeg, man or saw l”'

The whisper aroused him.) an instant he

stared up and put Out his hand ‘or
who, good man, went to the and m 
U

 

 

 

' ‘ 'ie‘

 

Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

' 1‘hoped to make the staff of his old age, and fold-
" infg his arms about him, like Jacob of old, “ he
11 ted up his voice and wept." The marquis
had a heart, much as had been said to the con-
trary, and, moving out of the tent, he paced to
and fro, waiting for the half-hour which he had
, .given the major to expire. ,
, Meanwhile the two in the tent sat down side
V ‘ by side, while Ralph, laying his weary head up-
; on his more_thau father’s shoulder, gave him
mend messages for that loved one, who on earth
file never hoped to meet again. He indeed had
given up hope of seeing any friend whatever,
and thought how hard it was to die, and she
nevsr to know what was in his heart for her.
‘Now he was more than satisfied.
He placed in the inajor’s band, who wept
through\all like achild,a little locket which
3,5" she had given him in happier days, and which
., he had since guarded in battle and in storm as
 ." his life.~ He sent it back to her, he said, to re—
 mind h& of what had been and what might
. gave been had it pleased God to spare his life.
ow long they sat and talked they little knew,
but all at .o co there aroseamurmur outside
the guard- t, and they heard the voice of
Montcalm crying:
.“ Stand back, knave, or I’ll slay you as I
would adog!”

The major sprung to the door and saw a sight
which he remembered to his dying day. A
hundred Indians, every one painted as black as
night, crowded upon the marquis who with
drawn sword disputed their way. The appear-
ance of the Englishman was greeted by a hoarse

‘ cry from every voice. The ma 'or saw at once
’ the object of their coming. hey were after
blood. He, too, drew his sword and took a.
Eliseoed h by the side of the marquis. Ralph drag-

  

    
   
  
  
   
  
 

imselt to the door, his irons clanking as he
went; he saw the mad band and he knew them.
They were the men of I-re-ton, who had fought
him many a time, and who had sworn to burn
’1.- him at the stake.

‘ Tlateedboldhstfind 19!: the officer 1and till)? fguar'gld

vorea as. enoneo hecesa-
vaneed and addressed the marquis, who inter-
'- ' rn him fiercely:
‘What do ye here, Casco? What means this
glamgiring beforea tent where a prisoner is
e

RLet notm father be angry with his friend,”
replied the c ief. , “Casco has been upon the
war-path many times, and has struck many
.,~ blows for the Great Father. He is willing to do
‘ much more. * As for this prisoner, he is ours;
-: we want him.”

e marquis looked about him.

“ Havevmy brothers thought what they are
doing? The war-chief lies wounded in my tent.
,You say true this prisoner is yours, and I can-
’ not keep him rom you; but would not I-re-ton
be because he could not see him die?”

. The ndians looked from one to the other in
v ay. They had nearly brought upon them-
, ‘ the an or of him they feared more than
 a .Montcalm. _ asco spoke again:
’ ~ ‘ ~“My tat , is right. We will keep him in
_. 'our wlgwams until I-re-ton can look upon his
, deatgi a 'then we will bring him out to die.”
' ‘ on do this thing?" said Bowen.

  

  
 

“ I must," was the stern reply. “ You your-
self can see how I am pressed.”

The major went back into the tent. Ralph
stood leaning' against .the pole of the tent. A
stern sort of calm had settled over his noble
face. The major went to him, took him in his
arms, kissed him on the cheek, and led him out
to Montcalm. The latter beckoned to one of the
guards, and he freed Ralph’s feet from the
irons. Here was an example of Christian prin-
‘ciplel The French marquis, undoubtedly one
of the bravest and most skillful generals of his
time, resigned a brave and true~hearted white
man into the hands of savages, whose avowed
purpose was to burn and torture him at the
stake. It seems hardl possible that such
things should be; but istory bears out the
truth of our statement.

'There was a‘silent hand~pressure, and the
mgjor sawthe brave young man led away by
hi painted foes. Montcalm was reading his
face. Doubtless he read horror, detestation and
agony’there, for he said:

“ It is a sad thing.”

The major could not speak.

0 You hate me,” continuedthe marquis, “ and
yet I believe I am just in this. Will you show
me how I could escape the act?”

“I cannot talk,” said the major. " I pray
you let me return to the fort."

“ As you please,” said he, testily. “ But, be-
fore you 0, take my message to your com-
mander. n five minutes after yonder gate
closes upon you, my batteries shall open upon
the fort. And I tell you that, in case we are
forced to take your place by storm, I cannot
restrain my Indians.”

“I see that very plainly. The same fate
probably would await us id we surrender. I
will go now, if you will be so kind as to send the
young captain with me. He can return with
the final answer of my colonel.”

“ It is not necessary. A white flag hung over
the southern battlement will be enough. I will
go part way with you myself.”

The two walked silently to the edge of the
woods, the major bearing the white flag thrown
across his arm. He had a better safeguard in
the person of Montcalm. Here they parted
without shaking hands, for the major would
not take the band of one who had just given his
dearest friend up to death. The gate opened
and closed again. The commandant methim at
the 2a to.

“ It you mean to surrender, hang out a white
flag; it not, get ready, for he opens on you in
five minutes."

“ I shall hang out no such flag yet. What are
our chances?”

“ 8,5113“, indeed. Montcalm has five thousand

en.

“What of Ralph?”

“ He is in the hands cf the Indians, given up
to them by that vile Frenchman, and he dies at
the stake as soon as 1 re-ton, whom he half-
killed with his handcuffs, gets well again. Have
you told Clara?”

The colonel nodded. ‘

 

 

\ 7

- 1' «_ i‘. “1' gm
‘ . r1  «fiedmk‘isw‘

“ I must go to her a moment, and then I shall
be ready for work.” _ v

 

«’2

  

Pat. the Plucky Sergeant.

 

1'?

 

CHAPTER X.
PAT MOONEY‘S GOOD WORK.

Ht: passed into the quarters and up to his own
rooms. Clara sat at the window, with her head
resting on her hands. As her father entered
she looked up; the miseries of a century seemed
crowded into her beautiful eyes.

“ Tell me,” she murmured, “ it cannot surely
be worse.”

The major sat down by her side, and infold—
ing her with his strong right arm, told her all
Ralph’s messages, and how nobly he was mak-
ing ready to die. She heard him through like
one in a dream; then, winding her arms about
his neck told him he must help her to bear this,
for henceforth they must be all the world to
each other. That they must together keep
sacred his memory, since it was the will of God
that, on earth, they might never look upon his
face again. ~'

While they sat, a crash burst upon the outer
air, and they knew that the battle had com-
menced. Hurrying Clara into the lower part of
the building, the major ran out upon the para-

t and looked from an embrasure. Scarcely

ad he done so, when a bullet from a sharp
shooter’s rifle rung sharply by his ear.

“ Be careful, major,” said a lieutenant by his
side. “ That battery is going to give us trouble.
I wish we could muzzle those dogs.”

He was right. The Montcalm battery gave
back a truthful answer, for a puff of smoke
broke from the muzzle of one of the huge guns,
and a twenty—pound ball struck the fort gun
close at his side upon the muzzle, driving it ten
feet back, and smashing the carriage to atoms.

“Confound it,” cried Bowen. “1 don’t like
that' he has spoiled my pet gun.”

“ fie came near spoiling you,” replied Ser-
geant Mooney, taking him about the waist, and
dragging him awa from the spot, just as an-
other ball came sailing over their heads. “ It’s
disrespect til’ me suparior officer, I know. But
divil a bit can I help it. Come back, will ye?"

“ Ye are too careful of me, sergeant,” said
the major, rather sadly. “You ought to give
me a right to be careless now.”

“ I know phat ye m’ane, ma'or, dear; but
ye are all in the wrong. Ralp , poor lad, is
gone. It’s sorry, I am, for that same. It was
a hard blow to the Miss Clara to lose him, but
phat w’u’d she do at all, at all, if ye were taken
away? Ye have the more r’ason to save your-
self to take care of her."

The major looked quickly up.

“ You are right, ser eant. will take care of
m self for her sake. am glad you spoke.” .

‘ K’ape out av the embrasures, will ye, thin l”

“ I must watch that battery, but I will take
care. Look out i”

Another heavy shot came flying over their
heads, burying itself in the center of the pa-

rade.

“ The ball is opened.” cried the major, sight-
in a gun bearing on the Montcalm battery.
3 (is: me try them one. NOW then, all ready-

re

The ball sped, and he had the satisfaction of
seeing a cloud of dust fly up from the l1parapet
of the batter , while the ndians ski ng the
woods uttered a yell of terror.

 

“ Try a little grape on those bushes, Ma'or
Bowen,” said a quiet voice at his elbow. 6
turned; the commandant stood at his side. A
howitzer was Wheeled to the front, a little can-
ister topped the load, and the searching mis-
siles flew away on their errand.

“Goodi good! major. You tickled him that
time.” The ofiicer was rubbing his hands in
glee, and well he might, for
grape, the sknlkeus, who had been gradually
drawing near the fort, aimin to pick 011’ some
of the officers, rose with 8. ye l of re , poured
in a single volley, and fell back into t e woods,
their pace somewhat accelerated by another
charge of grape.

An Indian can no more stand before cannon
than the push of the bayonet in an open field.
He is a child of the forest. The savage war,-
fare suits him best. He has been taught to
send the deadly shaft from tree and bush upon
the foe. But, the sound of so much powder is
too much for him. Tortures could not make
him stand when the grape is searching through
the thickets. *

The balls from the French batteries fell thick
and fast. The bomb-proofs were often brought
into requisition. The sharpshooters’ rifles were
singing along the line, when a rifle—crack,
joined with a sharpD jingle, called the attention
of Pat Mooney the major. He had been

standing over a gun, sighting it, when, justas ,

he raised his head and gave the order to fire, a
bullet splintered his opaulet, and raised the flesh
slightly upon his shoulder.
him; he had been standing where the embank-
ment screened him from view. From whence
did the shot come?

At this moment Ut-ta-wan touched him on

the arm. Following the direction of his finger,
he saw the top of a solitary pine, risln high, .
above the surrounding bushes, agitate sud-

denly.

“Ahai my lad. Are you there? Look out
for yourself, for I am after you.”

A painted Huron had climbed the tree to get
a better shot at the English. Covered by the
body of the tree, he thought himself safe; but
he was mistaken indeed, for the major wheeled
the little howitzer to the front.

“Keep that fellow steady with your rifle,
chief, and 'I will show you a trick.”

The chief threw forward his rifle, and turn-
ing the muzzle here and there asthe Indian,
who did not like the look of things, tried to de-
scend. held him in his place. Thegun was

si
pl ed the match. Ever leaf upon the pine top
was stripped as if a w irlwind had passed over
it, and in the midst, hanging face upward
across the ragged stump, lay the daring rifle.
man, dead! The slanting rays of the afternoon
sun fell u n the upturned face, lookin grim
and ghas yunder t e waning light. an

ailing cry which burst from the lips of t e
EIUI‘OD sent a chill through the hearts of the two-
men in the fort. That yell spoke the determina-
tion of the Indiana. A horrible vengeance
should come for this.

Still, the shot fell like rain. The walls were _
crumbling about them and half their guns were ‘
Y

useless. But the garrison stood hold to their.

   

at the first dose of:

He looked about ‘

'ghted to suit him, and then the major ap- ~

 

L»

  
 

x
3 ,
i.

r
31..»
a.
..
..

 

‘ them like a mantle.

‘ remained with the one other to guard t

 

18

 

 

Put. the Plucky Sergeant.

 

arms. When night fell, the major, with a
chosen band, prepared for a hazardous enter-
prise, no less than spiking the guns of the bet-
ter , on the river, which was shaking their
walls to the earth.

They waited until nightfall, and then two
battalions of the Rifles marched out of the main
gate, and charged across the glacis in the direc-
tion of the Lake Shore Battery. The din they
made aroused the Li‘rencb, and a. cloud of skir—
mishers soon enveloped their front. Quickly
they heard the French troops from the left rush—
ing to the rescue. This was what the assailants
wanted, and, after playing with their foe for
half an hour, without advancing further than
the outer edge of the glacis, they retreated slow-
ly. They were not fools enough to cross this
line. They knew that an ambush was doubtless

‘ prepared for them, and so they skirmished, until

a loud bugle-blast warned them to return.

This was repeated man times, keeping the
French busy, while, in t e mean time, with
thirty chosen men Major Bowen slipped out of
the sully-port, and took possession of a la rge
bateau lying upon the shore. The Onondaga
was with him, and they pulled manfully up the
river, toward the obnoxious battery, keeping
close to the eastern shore.

At this time, lofty bluffs, crowned with fine
trees, walled in the river on either hand. ull—
ing in the shadow while they moved with care
they were safe from observation, for no human
eye could pierce the darkness which hung about
They neared the spot where
a watch—flro in the battery threw a broad band
of light across the stream. Runnin close up
to the wall, on the eastern side, they he (1 by the
overhaniging bushes, while a brief consultation
was hel .

Every man was provided with a hammer and
spikes, and received orders to see that every
gun was spiked, no matter who fell. With this
understanding, the dropped the oars into the
water, and star ,for the other shore. The
iwgcl‘ich-flre was dying out; no one was there to

a it.

Noiselessly they pulled ahead. They reached
the shore, stepped out, grasped their rifles, while
knives and pistols were lonsened, and they were
ready for the hazardous undertakin .

Up the steep they hurried, whil afile Eye

a boat,
much against his will. He saw them crawl
stealthin over the verge of the clifl’, and then
he beheld no more.

For a moment he was still; then the very sky
seemed to rock, as if pandemonium had broken
loose upon the blufl'. Out of the darkness the
flash and report of rifles, the fall of the slain
men, the dying groan, the victorious cry came
with fearful distinctness to their ears. howen
was attacked by the Hurons.

The Onondaga would not stay after that.

I Leaving the boat in charge of the other, he

mounted the bank, and cast his eyes over
a wild combat. Two hundred Indians sur-
rounded tlre brave band of Bowen, who, with
backs against the rocky rampart, were strik-
ing fierce blows for life. Half of their number
already lay gasping on the sod, within the
rampart of the coveted battery. One, whose

 

hand still grasped the nail with which he
would have spiked the gun, lay across the
breech, scalped and bloody. Bowen was
menacing half a dozen Hurons with his pistols,
who were pressmg him hard. In some way, he
had been detached from his force, and was
falling back slowly to his boat, calling,r to
his men [0 break through, and come to him.
They essnyell to do this, but the movement put
the feeble hand wholly at the mercy of their
savage foes. The major saw that there was no
hope for him or them; hemmed in on every
side as they were, they could onl die bravely.
They fought with desperation. or every man
of the fourteen left, at least two Indians died
that night. The 0 ponents of the major at last
flung themselves iercely upon him. Two fell,
shot through the heart. A third, rushing on,
was impaled upon the sword-blade of this brave
man. A- fourth, not dreaming of his presence,
was pierced by the knife of the chief, who now
rushed to the rescue. His tomahawk was in
the brain of the fifth; the sixth died by the hand
of Bowen. The major turned for flight, when,
unexpectedly, both himself and Ut-ta-wan were
grappled by a new foe. The strife was over,
for the whole band was upon them close—ail
their comrades being slain. '

“Break away, chief, and if you escape, tell
them how we died," pantcd Bowen.

“Better you give up,” replied the chief.
,“ Fre’nch coming now. No min’ me. I get
way.

Lifting1 one of the Hurons in his arms as
though 0 had been a child, Eagle Eye bore
him to the edge of the rocky well, looked once
behind him, saw the mailer still struggling
among a mingled mass of rench and Indians,
and then dropped into the stream. The Indians
dared not fire, lest they should kill their com-
rade. Rushing to the Verge, they looked over.
There was a great ripple in the water where he
had sunk from eight, and that was all.

A cry of anger broke from every lip, for they
knew their man too well to suppose he would
not escape. They saw the boat, witha single
occupant, drift away from the shore, and, once
in the current, float sw1ftly out into the dark
ness. Just below they heard a defiant yell. and
they knew that the scout was safe, and the
eddy hurried back to the shore the dead body
of the man who had fallen from the cliff in his

asp.

But, while they looked, a strange. brave
deed was done by one of the men who had fallen
early in the fight, stunned, but not dead. When
the strife was at its highest, this man rose, took
the spikes and hammer from a dead comrade’s
grasp, and began to spike the guns. A dozen
swift strokes and it was over. Just as he spiked
the last gun, the French poured into the work,
and he was beaten down by a gun breech,
bloody and half-dead. Afterward, the Indians
found that he had life in him, and saved him for
the torture. This was the plucky sergeant, Pat
Mooney, who had done the work of the expe-
dition. Had this been known, it might have
prolonged the siege, perhaps saved the fort.

The Indian and his comrade reached the fort,
and told the mournful story of the fight. The
commandant at once declared the fort unten-

 

I3

 

‘  L114 ‘ . ~40 .« -.-I, ..

Pat, the Plueky Sergeant,

 

19

 

able, and determined to move to the work on
the eastern shore. The guns were spiked; the
ammunitlnn was hosted across the stream and
dragged laboriously up the opposite bank. Next
day the French found, to their astonishment,
that they could elicit no reply to their guns
from the lakeshore. They did not use the river—
side battery—it was silent.

A flag was sent to the fort. The bearer found
it deserted, and entered the broken gate.
Within, all was desolation. The quarters were
a heap of ruins, the walls broken down in places;
two embrasures were knocked into one. The
flag wandered about the works a while, and
then returned to tell the marquis that they were
at his disposal.

A short time after, the men in the other forts
looked on with sud hearts, while a part of the
French were busy upon the walls of ‘hirley.
They knew what they were doing, and a cry of
exec-ration burst from their lips, as the French
tricolor rose slowly to the top of the broken
staff. flaunting out in the morn ng breeze, above
the Red Cross of Old England; and the thunder
of the guns that greeted its rising, seemed to
bgzdpresage of the fall of the fort where they
S .

 

CHAPTER XI.
ran nusn snaoum’s RACE.

Par MOONEY was led along between two stal-
wart Hurons, while one marched in front and
the other in the rear. They were determined
that this prisoner should not escape them, and
that they would have some of the sport that
suited best their cruel natures. They longed for
the torture, the post, and the fire. ey remem-
bered, with vindictive fury, that many braves
lay dead in the battery. It was not enough for
them that they had slam them all: for had not
the Eagle escaped them, and the French taken
the major out of their hands? This one surely
was theirs.

They led him into the tent in which Ralph lay.

‘ A look of genuine joy lighted up the lrishmau’s
face as he saw Ralph. a had thought the brave
scout dead.

“ Arrah, Ralph, my b’y, but it’s glad I am e
haven’t kicked 'the bucket yit. Phat the ou d
Satin w‘u‘d they be doin’ Wid ye, at all?”

“ They would like to burn me at the stake.”

“Ah, the murtherin’ thaves. Here, ye black
Waste of an Indian. It’s a roast 0 want, and
phat d'ya say til an Irish stew? I m naught but
a prisoner, and it‘s me that’ll take Ralph‘s place,
d'ye see, ya red naygur that ye bees.”

“ I am afraid that gour being a prisoner will
not help you much, at. They Will treat you
the same as they do me."

“ It’s against all the rules of war, and I’ll
jist apply to the fineral. Here, ye spalpeen,
if ya to the ginera , and tell him that Misther

cone , Sergeant Pat Mooney, av the Rifles,
w’u’d ave a few words_with him. tart. ye
b’astel Phat the howly saints are yegrinnin’ at,
ye fiackana l"

‘ Hedon understand you."

“ Faith, so he don’t. Here, you Ralph, ya
sp‘ako to him. Ye can sp'ake the vile language
av thim.”

" It’s no use, Pat. If Montcalm don’t know

 

that you are a prisoner now, he never will. From
what I can hear, they are making ready to have
you run the antiet even now. And my advice
to you is, if t ey give you half a chance, break
through them and put for the river. How were
you taken i”

Pat gave an account of tho fl ht.

“ You say the major is in i a hands of the
French i"

" Yis, I think so, bad luck to the foreign
roguesi"

“ Then he is safe. I am glad of that, for his
own sake and for hers. I wish I had this chance
at the gantlet.”

“ Ye may, then. Faix, I don’t want it.”

“ No, they would not give me that chance, for
they watch me as cats watch rats. I can’t turn
(Efrgairl y but it brings one of them to the door.

1

The entrance was darkened. and several In-
dians Came into the lodge. The two men. still
bound, were led out into the open air. Many
fires had been lighted in the camp, and it was
bathed in brilliant light. A long line of war-
riors, several hundred in number, were ranged
in double rows down the center, armed with
clubs, hatchets, and knives, the latter being used
toprick the runners, but not to wound. 'Pat
was allowed to remove his coat and vest, and
stood out with his belt tightly girdled about his
body, ready for the task.

A fine, ruddy glow was on his face, and he
looked as if he were about to enga e in a foot-
ruce, and not a struggle for life. he Indians
shouted in admiration for they looked fors ort.
They were gratified, but before they were one,
repented that they had not sent the scout into
the lines instead of the supple sergeant, who now
stood calmly waiting for the word, with his eye
fixed on the swaying lino. \

“Start!” was the word, and the Irishman
plunged between the lines, snatching the short,
ashen club from the first who struck at him.
He was half-way down, and handling the shil-
lelah with remarkable dexterity, every blow
falling upon that instead of his uncovered head.
Right and left flew the Indians, under his
lightning-like strokes. At last, one chief, angry
at the failure to hit him, threw himself in his

th. .
paWhack! whack! First One end and than the
other of the stick came down on the feathered .
crown, and Casco, for it was he, came to the
ground. amid the derisive yells of his compan-
ions, who resented this break in the unchange-
ahle rules of the gantlet. ‘

The Irishman had cleared the line and turned
to look back on his work. Half a dozsn braves
were wiping bleeding noses on the path and he
was stil as fresh as a May morning. Ii‘lourish-
ing his stick with a Tipperary ell, he dashed
oi! to the left pursued by the yel ing gang.

They could not have chosen better ground for
him. Once out of the light of the fire, he put
forth all the fleetness of foot he had learned
at the Irish fairs, and left many of his pursuers
behind.

Perha he would have reached the_ river un-
moleste , but, as fate would have it, an out-
lying Indian flung himself in his path. Raising
his foot, be planted it with all is force in the

 

 

 

 

 

20

stomach of the Huron, who flew back as if
struck by a cannon ball. Lea ing over the
rostrate body, he found himse f seized by the
eel, and tightly held. Stooping down, so that
he could see where to strike, he put in ascientiflc
shillalah blow upon the cranium of his enemy,
stretching him senseless on the sod.

But, he had' not yet escaped. This had oc-
curred near the Montcalm battery; lights be-
gan to flash, and footsteps hurried toward him.

Breaking off to the south, the brave fellow
ran nearly a mile, and then paused to listen.
For some minutes he heard nothing, and then
the panting breath of a runner sounded in his
ear. The point at which he had pausod was
half a mile above the rapids, not far from the
place where Ralph had shaken off his pursuers
and taken to the canoe. The panting steps
came nearer, and Pat had stepped out to strike,
when the moon, shining through a rift in the
forest arches, showed him the face of Ut—ta-wan.

“ Dat you, Irisher?”

“ Yes, it is. How the saints kem ye here?”

“ Nev’ ou min’. No stop to talk. Huron
comin’. it ’way now, ’den talk after. Come!”
and away they sped like arrows. Then ran to-
gether, keeping to the west, and leaving the
course of the river entirely. At last the pace of
the Indian subsided into a walk.

“No use run now. T’ink we cross riber an’
E0 to fort. Saw you run, jus’ now; break Injun

ead; glad you break Casco’s head; hope him
never mend it.”

“ How kem ye there?”

“ Sent Ralph bone udder day. Dat bone 59.
Eagle Eye true! frien’, stay by him. When 1e t
to , go up lake in can . Lie in bushes and
wait. Bymeby, see Inju bring you outto run;
den you git away, and I goes to git help for
Ral h.”

T e two men, after. various maneuvers, stole
cautiously back, and were soon in sight of the
Indian cam . The savages had thought better
of letting alph run, after the escape of the
Irishman, which greatly delighted the scout.
He was taken back to the tent, and was aured
by the hero Casco, whose nose had received a
permanent crook, that I-re-ton was well, and
coming in to see him, pretty soon.

Ere-ton came in ere loci, sullen and fierce,
with bloody bandages about is head. A smile
rested upon the 1 cc of the scout. for he knew
that he had struck a good blow. Again was
the prisoner led forth—this time to be bound to
a post before the council-fire.

All present were not Indians. Numerous par-
tisan rangers, who bad influence over the chefs,
were in the group. They had been Sent by
Montcalm to do what they could for Ralph’s re-
storation to the French.

The council—fire blazed, and‘fhe chiefs ather-
ed silently about it. The pipe was broug t out,
and passed from mouth to mouth until all had
smoked. All around the gathered chiefs stood a
ring of dark eager faces, whose eyes glowed in
the flreiight like the eyes of serpents. Not one
among the braves but longed for the torture to
commence. I '-

The French looked ,on in silence and smoked
with the rest. Children of the woods, although
they hated lS‘a'lph, yet their hatred was mixed

.,.'

 

 

Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

with the respect which true bravery always in-
spires.

At last one Indian rose, whose snow-white
locks proclaimed him a patriarch of his race.
His voice quivered with age. He was called the
“ Oak Branch.”

“ Brothers,” he said, “ we have come to do a
great thing to—night. We have come to say
whether the Big Elk shall endure the trial by
fire. Brothers, we have been taught to hate the
English. We know they are liars; that they
speak with forked tongues. We know that they
love to cheat the Indians, to steal away their
lands, and drive them across the big water.
They take our pleasant places, and there they
build their great wigwams. I have seen my
great father at Quebec. He never promises, un—
less he means to fulfill. This young man was in
his hands and he gave him up to us, though the
‘Soft Voice’ (Bowen) pleaded for his life.
Brothers, the English and the Hurons can not
live together. One or the other must cease from
oil? the land. Let another speak. The Oak
Branch is done.”

He sat down amid a perfect whirlwind of
applause. I-re—ton sat uietly—a satisfied smile

assing over his face. ut, the smile changed
into a frown, and that frown into a malignant
scowl, as a young chief, of prepmsessing look
gm: with a majestic form, rose slowlyto his
as .

He was a famous orator, and in eloquent
words pictured the bravery of the Big Elk, ar-
guing that he deserved a brave warrior’s death,
and ought not to be burned with fire. A mur-
mur of applause greeted ,the close of his speech.

When 9 sat down l-re-ton rose slowly, as if
in pain. and cast a look of fearful malice upon
Ralph, before he addressed the council.

It is needless to paint the thrilling words and
gestures by which he placed before their eyes
the deaths of their friends. The wicked savage
knew every vulnerable point in the armor of
each Indian’s heart. A cunning diplomatist, he
had learned his hearers thoroughly before he
spoke. He told them how ghastly looked the
c ief who still hung in the rag ed ine. He

ke of the man who had fallen y t e rifle of
t e scout. He li ted his own maimed hand, as
a sign of his cruel work. Unconscioust he won
them over to his cause, and then at once called
for their vote, before they had time to recover
from the thrall in which his presence bound
them. All but the young orator voted, DEATH.

In vain he and the French officers begged the
council to reconsider its verdict, but all said
that the white man must die in the morning by ,

fire.

Ralph was led back into the lodge, and strongly
bound. The Frenchmen came and spoke kindly
to him, together with the young chief, whom
Ralph took by the hand and thanked for the
part he had taken. I-re-ton came in after they
were gone, and looked at him with the stare of
fixed hatred. Ralph sent him a glance from his
bold eye under which the wretch quailed, and
shrunk back, but only for a moment. Recover-
ing his resence of mind the savage began to
taunt b s victim.

" The Elk has long legs, but he can runno’
more, for they are tired.” ,

   

 

 

 

 

1 base of the clifl. the chief trod up a slippery

Put. the Plucky Sergeant. I 21

 

“ The Elk has long arms too,” replied Ralph,
determined to meet the fellow in his own way.
“ Is the head of my brother in pain, that he ties
it up with bloody rags?”

The blazing eyes of the chief seemed fairl to
illuminate the darkness of the place. “ he
Elk is a woman," he shouted, mad with anger.
“ He has a long tongue. I-re-ton can not beat
him with his tongue he is not a woman. But
his hands are strong.’

“ I-re-ton is a woman. His hands are those
of a pappoose. He is afraid of the Elk. He dare
not meet him in battle. The Elk will go out
now, give I-re—ton a hatchet and a knife, and
fight him with his bare hands.”

“ Hark !" said the chief, coming close up to
him, and s aking eagerly, blinded by rage.
“ Will the lk do so?”

“ It is spoken,” said Ralph, adopting the brief
speech of the Indian.

“ I will fight him; only the Elk shall have a.
knife, and I-re-ton will leave his hatchet in the
lodge. Let my brother rest well, and in an hour
I-re-ton will come.”

“ Shall we 0 out alone?"

“ There she I be none to see us.”

The lodge-curtain dropped behind the chief,
and he was one. Ralph sat in a fever of or
citement. e had great hope from thismeetin

' with the chief. True, he might die, but what 0

that? There was a good chance for life, and, at
the best, he would not then perish by the fire
torture. It would not be the first time he had
'omed hand to hand in battle with an Indian.
. e counted the minutes as they passed, certain,
if the chief failed to come, that he had looked
upon his last earthly night. He heard the
stealthy thread of the red guards; the blaze of
the watch-tire was thrown across the blanket.
Thinking of Clara and of the coming conflict, he
fell asleep.

Hardly did he sleep, when some one lifted the
curtain of the Wigwam. It was the Mohawk,
accom nied by another Indian. It was not yet
light, or objects in the lodge looked dim. I-re-
ton beckoned the scout to rise; he did so, and
the companion of the chief began to array him
in his own dress. He understood now that the
Mohawk meant to keep faith with him, and that
he was to leave the camp in the guise of an
Indian.

When he was ready his strange halet-de-cham-
be'r, robed himself in the forsaken garments. and
lay down 11 on his blanket, turning his face to
the wall. fireton made another uick motion,
and muflling his face, followed is inveterate
enemy from the lodge. It was that uncertain
hour between morning and hi ht, in which every-
thing wears a hazy aspect. he gnards never
noticed them, or, if they did, only saw in them
the two chiefs who had entered the lodge a few
moments before. I _

I—re-ton led the way w1th rapid steps down to-
ward the river. There they found a canoe and
crossed to the other side. Stepping out at the

path, and Ralph followed closely u n his 331..
Once on the level land above, the eader struck
ofl into the thick woods, and pursued his course,
Salaam a mile. Neither as yet had spoken a

Both were pondering on their chances in the
coming fl ht, and did not care to talk. Half an
hour’s w k brou ht them to a little glade in the
woods, shut in y tall. trees on every hand.
Here the chief Ezusmi and flinging back his
blanket, looked - lph n the eye.

CHAPTER XII.
RALPH‘B DEED.

LEE—TON, though a bold and now thoroughly
furious enemy, had a man before him who did
not know what it was to fear. Ralph took the
knife from the hand of his red foe, stepped back
a few paces, took a single look at the s y bright-
ening through the leaves, and addressed himself
to flight.

Both expert beckwoodsmen, it was wildly in-
teresting to see them close slowly in, with knives
prepared for battle. The position each took was
suggestive of his manner of fighting. I-re-ton,
with a firm but catlike step, held his knife ad-
vanced, and inclined his body forward ready for
‘a sly cut or thrust. Ralph, on the contrary,
threw back his shoulders, and held his blade as
it about to pan y for the head, so as he might
cut or guard, as he chose.

Poising himself upon one heel, he swung slow-
]y round, kee ing his face toward I-re-ton, who
walked stealt ily about him, not yet daring‘to
close, but narrowing the circle each time. he
scout was in no hurry; he was getting strong
again from the restraint of his confinement, and
felt himself even then a match for his enemy.
I-re-ton, seeing that he would not open the at-
tack, prepared to close.

One strong stroke and the knife of Rel h is
shivered at the hilt. With a savage grin, -re-
ton raised his knife, but the arm of the Big Elk
tightened around his antagonist, the blade was
torn from his hand and flung far out into the
bushes, and they struggled for the throw. Here
the scout was at home. His limbs were stronger
than those of the Indian, who, though lithe and
active, had to bend to his gigantic strength. In
an instant he was hurled to the ground, half-
stunned. But lyin there, he gave utterance to
a signal-cry, when our Indians burst from the
woods and attacked the weary man together.

The treacherous nature of the chief would
have its way. I-re-ton was sorry as soon as he
was calm, that he had promised to fight the
scout alone and had sent these four braves
secretly to the place of meeting, to aid him in
case of need.

The scout was not dismayed. Striking I-re-
ton a stunning blow with his fist, which made
him quiescent enough, he braced himself for a
new battle. '

How it would have ended, it is easy to assume.
His opponents were each nearly as strong as
I-re-ton, and would soon have con uered him,
{101' 30 was nearly exhausted. But elp was at

an . I

The Ononda had been busy all that night
in company wig Mooney. When they had com-
pleted the circle of the camp, and Witnessed the
proceedings of the council, they set out toward
the prison-lodge. The guards had’gone to the
council with their prisoner, so that they had no
difficulty in gaining the hack of the lodge and

 

 

.cutting small holes in the bark. While they

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

82 Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

could work they were busy, and a square piece
of bark, leaving a hole through which a man
might crawl easily enough, was left hanging by
small strip. This, it was hoped, Ralph would
discover, ani, availing himself of it, would be
able to avoid the guards and make for the woods
or river.

Soon after, Ralph was brought in again, as
they discovered from their retreat in the deep
gloom around. It was not the place to remain,
however, and the two men set our. on a dead run
for the river, which they safely reached and
crossed and then tarried to await the further
issue of events. In an hour’s time four Indians
went by, Soon after, they saw the canoe of
I-re~ton leave the shore, and to their great joy,
Ralph was a passenger! Neither of them for a
moment thought of interrupting the movement,
whose nature neither could fathom. Eagle Eye,
however, surmised that some treachery was on
foot, and determined to follow, at all hazards.
Without discovery they kept the Mohawk chief
in view, and saw the fight from the first.

When Ralph struck the first blow, it was as
much as the Irishman could do to kee from
uttering a shout, while the face of the ndian
took on a look resembling a smile. When they
saw him hurl the chief to the earth, they were
about to come out and join their friend when
the new foes made their sudden appearance!

The yell of the Onondaga, and the cheering
call of Pat, were simultaneous, and to Ralph's
great astonishment and delight, these true
friends ranged themselves by his side, one hold-
ing knife and hatchet, and the other a stout
cudgel, which he had out while following the
trail. The four Mohawks stopped in something
like dismay. Thev knew only too well the
prowess of Eagle Eye and the Elk; while, hav-
ing been in the line, the previous night, when
Pat ran the antlet, they had a wholesome dread
of the shilla ah.

“Ah-ba-a-al Ye black b’astes, look at that
now. D' esee the little bit av a stick I hould in
me fist? u’d ye like to thry w’u’d it hurt ye?
Come on, ye thaves, come oni and by the Widdi
Murphy’s li , and that’s a hairy oath, I’ll brea
the heads 0 ye, ivery wan. )me on, thin, ye
nastfly, grassy children av the ould divil that ye
are

The savages turned and ran for the woods,
while the two fresh men started in pursuit. But
Ralph called them back.

“Come back, chief,” he said. “I don’t feel
like fighting just now.”

The Indian paused.

“ Hurt?" questioned he.

“Not much, chief, but a few of your herbs
will come into play. Let us see what you can
do to stop the blood.”

“ Le’s look,” said he, betraying some anxiety.

The scout strip (1 the buckskin from the
wounded arm wit some pain, and the Indian
looked at the cut. With a guttural “ ugh l” he
hunted around and found some herbs. which,
with the aid of Pat, he bruised and laid on the
wound. This done, he bound them firmly in
their place with pieces of buckskin. Sobusy
were they that they forgot the crushed worm
which lay almost at their feet. The Onondaga
was first to perceive anything wrong, for all

  , 

 

 

at once he grasped his his rifle, and started off
into the woods; then, seeming to remember his
wounded friend, he came back with an angry
face—I—re-ton had escaped 1

Taking advantage of the moment when both
eyes and hands were busy over the wound, the
wounded Mohawk had crawled into the bushes,
and made of! as fast as his failing strength
would let him. The four Indians, who still
lurked in the woods, took him in their arms and
hurried away. So that when the Onondaga no-
ticed 'his absence, they had put some distance
between him and danger.

The brow of the Onondaga was clouded. He
considered it a severe blow to his credit that the
enemy had escaped under his very eyes. He
finished the dressing of his friend's wound, and
then went a little way out upon the bloody trail.
When he reached the spot where the four had
joined their wounded leader he paused, knowing
that it was useless to follow them further. Pat
was in a terrible rage, criminating himself in
true Irish style for a blockbead, in not keeping
an eye on the Indian. Ralph took the matter in
a more quiet manner.

“ Never mind, chief,” he said. “ He is off,
and no mistake. What a fool I was not to
knock him on the head. I thought I hit him
hard enough. The fellow has as many lives as
a cat.

" Le’s go," said the Indian, sulkily. “ No use
stay here no longer."

“Where shall we go?”

“ Not go to Shirley. French got him.”

“ What!"

“Got him, tell you, by dis time. Know dat
our men leave ’ night, ‘cross Onondaga."
(Oswego.)

In his concise manner be related every event
of that da and night. so fraught with trouble
to many earts-the shooting of the Huron in
the tree, and the fierce fight upon the riVer-
bauk together with the capture of the major.

“ ion think he was taken by the French?”

“Sure av it,” said Pat.

I“; What did Clara think?" he asked of th
c e . '

“Wild Rose very sad. T’ink you dead, now.
Mailer tole her dat Indians got you. Den las’
ni t ma'or taken, all frien’s one. Ver bad.
In ungee sorry, face gets so w its. Den come
awa .

“ must 0 to the fort.”

u Mus, go a!

u Yes-fl

“ Den we go too. Come!”

And the three turned to the right, made a
circuit'of the French pickets, and reached the
fort in safety.

Clara had indeed given them up. It seemed
to her that she could not weep even. Her father,
her lover, all she had on earth, had fallen into
the hands of the enemy. She sat in her room,
with her head upon her knees, given fully up to
des ir.

he morning rays were shining into her win-
dow. She thou ht the same sun shed its light
upon the man 1 form of her lover. She thought
of her brave ether, in like cruel hands. What
would be his fate!

All at once there rose a loud cheer at the out-

  

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Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

posts. She never raised her head until, borne
on the morning breeze, she heard glad cries of
“Ralph! Ralph! Hurrah 1” She could see a
struggling crowd about the sallyport; then some
one on,the stairs said: “ Let him pass, boys—
she has had trouble enough, poor girl 1” She
waited in a strange tremor, half in hope, half in
fear. The door opened—Ralph’s voice called her
name, and she fell fainting into his arms.

Joy seldom kills, and she came back to con-
sciousness to find him holding and chafing her
white bands, kissing her lips, with her head rast-
iug upon his manly breast—resting as she had
given up all hope of ever restin again. She
lay there like a tired child, wbi e he solemnl
18.13 1his compassionate kisses on brow and chee
an ip.

“‘Oh. Ralph,” she said, “God is very good, to
give you back to me. I told father, when he
brought me news of your capture, that he was
all I had, and now he is taken, and on are
give to me, Ralph. What will they 0 with
him?”

“ The French have him, not the Indians, and
I have no doubt he will be exchanged soon.
for myself, I cannot stay with you long, for I
have work to do.”

“'You surely do not mean to go out among the
Indians again. What would they do to you, if
yOu were taken now?"

“No; I shall keep clear of them: My chief
object in going out is to keep out of their way.
The place will be given up to—day, I think, and
I do not care to be in it. Montcalm might have
something to say to me, and even if he did not,
a hundred such men could ,not save me from
I-re~ton, if he found me in the fort."

“Where will you go?”

“I shall take a canoe. and go down the lake
with the Onondaga. I will watch the move-
ments of the troops, and if Montcalm paroles
them, I will join you further down. If, on the
contrary, he takes you all to Quebec, I will go
to Albany, and wait for you there.”

“ You will quit this life, then?”

“ I think so. I am tired of wandering.
While I was at Edward, I saw the famous par-
tisan colonel, whom we call‘ Old Put.’ His real
name is Israel Putnam. He is the most daring

sman I ever saw. He commands the finest body
of men in the service—the Rangers, they are
called—and he offered me a captaincy in the
regiment. I like it, and think I shall acce t."

“ I have heard of Colonel Putnam, and t ink
I should like him. What kind of a man is he?”

“ A bluff, hearty, whole-scaled man, a perfect
soldier, and a provincial.” ‘

“You must go, I know. Godbless you my
dear Ralph. Be very careful of yourself, for
my sake.” ,_

He left her, and went down into the fort.
After shaking hands With every man, woman
and child whom he saw—for all knew and loved
him—he was joined by the Indian, and they
left the place together. The French had not yet
completed the inVestment, and the two rangers
easily made their way to the woods.

The day was s ent in a fierce battle: but tow-
ard night, the
into the fort. He had come to offer fresh terms

, from Montcalm, who appreciated their brave _- gave the canoe a push with his foot which sent

   

ring ceased, and a flag came’

 

defense of the post, and was willing to give
them the award of brave men. They were to
be allowed to march out, with their arms, and
join the garrison at Fort Edward. The officers
to retain their side-arms, and all giving a parole
to fight no more until exchanged. The young
officer pleaded hard that these terms might be
accepted, for, he said, unless they were com-
plied with, the marquis would be forced much
against his will, to order an assault. If this
were done no prisoners would be taken. .

These, better terms than the colonel looked
for, Were accepted, and Baron Moran came in
soon after and took formal possession of the

lace. Many cannon, the shipping in the bar-

or, and vast quantities of munitions of "war,
fell into the hands of the French. Then follow-
ed an act which, coupled with his cruel breach
of faith at Fort Edward, renders the name of
Montcalm infamous in the annals of these wars.
Fourteen men, chosen by lot from the rison-
ers, were given into the hands of the urousl
TheSe unfortunate men were taken into the
woods, and there tortured to death at the post,
their cries ringin in the ears of the garrison
and of the Frcnc commander. Moran smote
his hands together, and said to the colonel:

“ As God is my judge, sir, this work is none
of mine.” .

“I believe you,” said the other, warmly.
“ But yonder is a deed that will blaze on the
pages of history for its atrocity and infamy.”

Next morning the garrison marched out, and
put twenty miles between them and their new
doubly-detestable enemy betore a halt, campiu
upon the Oneida, at Three-river Point. Weari
with the incessant toll of the last few days,
the set their sentinels, and lay down to sleep.

he ni ht was beautiful, and the drowsy sen-
tinels n dad at their posts. They remembered
Ralph’s injunction, to beware of surprises and
Indian incursions, but, with two broad rivers in ,
their rear, it is no wonder that, what slee y . ,
watching was done by them, was given to t 9‘
side toward the lake. Clara had a tent near
the river, where, with the murmur of its water
in her ears, she lay down to an unbroken slums . .
her, happier than she had been for day: True,
she was yet in den r, but her lover as safe, f
and her father, at est, only a risoner. She ’
did not see the canoe glide noise essly forward
among the pines. Neither did the guard, on
the other side of the tent dreaming of home
and friends. She was lying) on a lie .of - .
blankets, sleeping peacefully. ne roun white ‘
arm was underneath her head and the other re- ,
posed upon the blankets. She had no knowledge, A
of the dark form which glided into the tent. and
stood above her, gloating on her'charms. Then ‘
he lifted her head gently, and, ere she was 
awake, a bandage was firmly drawn over ther
mouth. Taking her cautiously in his arms, so
as not to arouse her. he laced er in the canoe.
Once he stopped and loo ed back at the sleeping
sentry. The desire to take a_scalp was over-
come by its danger. Taking his station in the
canoe, be shed from the shore. ‘The quick
paddles di his work well, and the grim‘ferry-
man, Ire-ton, soon landed upon the pomt.

Lifting his prisoner out upon the shore, he

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

.night before.

said

 

 

Pat, the Plucky Sergeant.

 

it out into the current down which it soon
dropped out of sight. Then he turned to his
prisoner, and lifting her again, took his course
toward the south as rapidly as his burden would
permit.

 

CHAPTER XIII. ’

I-RETON STEALS CLARA.

RALPH came into the camp in company with
the chief on the morning following the abduc-
tion. All was in confusion; men were running
hither and thither without any definite object,
and excitement was written on all faces.

“What ,is the matter here, Barnes?” asked
Ral h, as that worthy was rushing by.

“Ei‘hat you, Ralph? Oh, I don't dare to tell.”

“ What is the matter, I say i”

“ Miss Claral Got away last night, strayed
away,” drowned, lost or something. I don’t

“What do you mean, you fool?” he gasped,
forgetting politeness in his excitement, and tak-

‘ ing the fellow by the shoulder.

“See here, you! Perhaps you think it neces-
sary to take a piece out of my shoulder to make
me understand, but I assure you that it isn't.
Let 5/9 my arm, will you? I didn’t steal her."

“ here was she?" he repeated, releasing the
orderly.

“ Come here, then, and I will show yJu,” the
red-coat answered, rubbing his shoulder with a
rueful face.

The two scouts followed him and he led the
way to the tent which Clara had occupied the
The colonel stood there; he shook
Ra] h kindly by the hand as he came forward.

“ his is a strange occurrence, Ralph,” he

“ When was it done!”

“Last night. The sentry swears that no one
passed him. Of course I have no proof, but it
is my opinion that he was asleep. Early this
morning he found that she was not in the tent
and gave the alarm.”

Ralph went into the tent and glanced about
him with a critical eye.

“ Have these things been disturbed?”

“No. Everything was just in this situation
when I came in. What is your opinion?”

“That your sentry was right in one particu-
lar. The person who entered this tent last night

I _—and a person did enter it~came throu h this
hole, which none of you have seen.”

e ex-
hibited a rent in the canvas about three feet
Ion . which had been cut with a knife. “ Clara
h lain down, and was undoubtedly sleeping
soundly when this thing occurred. She was
doubtless very tired, and la down with her
clothes on, as you see that no an article of her
apparel is here. She was taken from :he tent
by one person—and he was an Indian—and was
carried through this opening.”

‘ “ Why do you say it was an I ndian?”

“ Do you see that footmark near the blankets?
When he stooped to lift her he bore all his
weight upon that foot.” Then the scout stooped
and examined the footmark closely. As he did
so a look of intense rage passed over his face as
he cried: “ I—re-ton !’

“Impossible,” said the colonel. “ You cer-

 

tainly cannot identify him from a single foot-
mark.”

“It is I-re—ton. Come here, chief, and tell
me what you think.”

Ut-ta-wan came, and kneeling by the foot-
print examined it closely.

“ One man here. Take young squaw. Creep
in like sna‘ke, den go out—dis way,”—pointing
to the rent in the canvas.

With bent bodies the two now passed out at
the o ening, reading the trail as they went. It
led t em down to the water’s edge, where the
Indian was first to discover the mark of the
canoe upon the river-bank. The Mohawk had
been careless, for he knew that the two scouts
were not in the camp, and supposed they had
gone to Albany. His footprints were thick in
the mud upon the verge. . ~

“ What tribe, chief?” said Ralph.

t “latiohawk,” said the other, quickly.
on

“How does he know that?” asked the colonel.

“ When you have followed the woods aslong
as myself ou will know that the fashion of
the moccasxn is different in each tribe. Now,
I will give you my theory of this sad busi-
ness. I-re-ton undoubtedl was very much out
of favor with the Hurons y the time he reach-
edcamp. After fighting so hard at the council
to get me burned at the stake, and then taking
me out to fl ht him, and in that way letting me
escape, ma e it bad for him. Very probably he
has broken with them, and was coming down
this way to get his revenge alone. It was doubt-
less a preconceived plan on his part.”

Ralph was right. 0n the return of the Mo-
hawk to camp, the Hurons angrily demanded
their prisoner at his hands. Of course. he could
give them no satisfaction, and a council was
called. Every one turned against him; the
Panther and Oak Branch, his best friends, ac-
cused him to his face. The young orator galled
him by his sarcastic speeches, until, mad with
anger, the Mohawk rose and told them that
he would march with them no more. The

“ I-re-

 

council never heeded him but went on with.

their work and then took'a vote by which
the Mohawk was banished from the cam .

Just as the vote was given, a young ohawk
runner came into the camp. The late deeds of
I-re—ton had been such as to awaken feelin of
respect in his own tribe, and the decree of an‘
ishment, some time before renounced by a
council of Mohawks, was revo ed. He was also
summoned to a seat at their council-fire, and the
runner was dispatched with the summons.

His farewell was pithy, and characteristic of
the man:

“ Let my Huron brothers cease to fret. There
are those who love the chief yet. Behold, the
fining man has come'from the council of the

ohawk. They say, let I-re-ton return; a lodge
is open for him, and he shall again teach our
young men how to make war; he is very wel-
come. ’

“My Huron brothers have made me a‘war-
chief; this is good, and I would have left in
brothers with a full heart. I have lost muc
blood, and my hands are not strong, but, it
there is one among the Hurons who dare meet

\I r

\

 

var. ‘.‘r.a..u:; A L... .

My.

 

‘  was;
. . l

A man.“

 

 

 

 

 

 

.1.a—m¢wums’{”1~‘xi£:vum-. :; a... 

3!.

 

 

 

I~re-ton with knife or hatchet, let him come on;
the Mohawk chief is ready!”

Furious yells arose, and several sprungto take
up the gantlet thus thrown down, but the old
chiefs interposed.

“ Let him go," they said, “ he is banished.”

I—re-ton turned, and, witha haughty step left
the spot. He hung upon the trail of the lang-
lish, and at night stole Clara from the tent.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE nunsonns’s DEATH.

RALPH turned to the colonel.

“ We must follow I-re-ton at once. He has
crossed the river, and by this time, is some
distance on his way. He will perhaps go back
to the Mohawk country with her.”

“ How many men will you take?"

“ Not one.“

“ You don't mean it?”

“Not a man. They would only be in my
way. You have not a dozen men in your com-
mand With whom I would trust myself in the
woods. They break sticks and burn wet wood.
They have a peculiar faculty for getting others
into trouble. And now, sir, let me give you a
word of advice that: may be useful to on on
your way. March at once for Edward. 0 not

alt a day on my account, for I shall be down
as soonas I have done in work. 1 will have
Clara, if I follow this ohawk scoundrel to
Quebec. Tell them that Ral h Warren said the
French would try to take ort William Henry
after Oswego. And if they act as usual, they
Will take it, too. Good-by, colonel, and look
out for your men. Trust no thicket until you
have sent “your riflemen into it. These devils
Will lurk in every ambush, and you will lose
many men at their hands, without you use ex-
treme caution and haste.”

Beckoning to Eagle Eye, the two thrust out a
leg from the shore, laid their rifles upon it, and
swam across. Ten minutes were spent in search-
ing for the trail. They found it afteralittle
time, and raising their hands, in token of suc-
cess, darted off into the woods.

The trail was a broad one, which the scouts
had not calculated on getting so easily. Follow-
ing the erroneous idea that these two dangerous
men had been sent to Albany I-re-ton took no
painsto cover his movements. After leaving
the river. he carried his prisoner far into the
woods. Then he put her down, and the band-
age was removed from her mouth. She was
unconscious—having fainted from fright and a
sense of suffocation. After a few moments her
eyes unclosed and at once she realized the terrors
of her situation.

“Why have you brought me here?" she ex-
clli'iied' b k S’pose

yme y you now, not now. you
keep still, make no noise, else me kill.” Ee
touched the knife in his belt.

“ What do you ropose to do with me?” she
continued, without ceding his threat. '

“Go wid I-re-ton, keep Wigwam warm.
ton great chief. Got two new now. Wigwam
ergo; room for more. bite girl mus’ go.

dder squaw do what she say; .if not, me kill.
White girl he squaw to great chief, den.”

. This was too much of a revelation for the

 

I-re-

Pat. the Plucky Sergeant.

 

tpgmr girl’s self-control, and she burst into
ars.

“ N o be fool!” cried the chief, angrily. “ I-re-
ton great chief. Mohawk love him now. Send
young brave last sun, and say: ‘Let the chief
come back to his tents; his brethren love him,
because he has taken many scalps.’ Go dere now.
Couldn't go while Hendricks was dere. Him
big fool! T’ink Johnson know ebber t’ing'
fight, get kill. Me kill him, self! ey kill
Deeskau dere, ole French chief. Me go back to
Mohawk, now Hendricks dead."

“ I can not go with you,” pleaded Clara. “ Let
me 0 back to my people. You surely would
not ave an unwilling wife in your lodge. See,
our skins are not alike; mine is white, and yours
is dark. Your customs are not mine. I could
not live with your people. Send me back and

on shall be made rich in rifle and powder and

11. Ask what you will; only send me back to

my goo 1e." ,
“ Iood just do same,” said the chief. “ Skin
darker, know dat, but blood red. Dat makes
no difference. Just as well have white squaw.

Rudder hab one white squaw.”

“ But, I can not go with on. I will not move
a step. Kill me if you wi , but I am of another
race than you.”

The Indian snatched out his hatchet with blaz-
ing eyes, and seemed about to slay her. But she
faced him calmly. with folded arms, as one who
had no fear to look upon her death. Indeed, she
thought it would be a merciful blow which
would free her from the living death for which
she seemed doomed. She had no hogs: to escape.
She thou ht Ralph would not join t e army un-
til it reac ed the Mohawk, and then what hope
had he of finding the trail. She was lost, be- ’
yond redemption. Perhaps he read her thoughts
in her eyes, for he put up his tomahawk, saying:
“ White girl fool! Mus’ go. Not walk, den
mus’ carry."

He took her in his arms again, but rather
than be contaminated by his touch, she said she
would walk. He put her down and she followed
him through the woods. Although having little
hope of being followed by any reaching party,.
the brave gir ' broke off twigs to guide any who
might follow, stamped her heel from time to :
time, to mark the path more plainlystill. I-re- ,
ton did not notice this, only looking back from
time to time to see if she followed closely. After
a while she began to lag, and he called to her to
quicken her pace.

“ I am tired,” said she, “ and must rest. I can
not walk like an Indian. ’ .

I-re-ton looked at the sky, and seeing it was _
near] noon, he madea halt, and taking his pouch

ave er some dried venison and parched corn.

he was hungry and the simple meal was eaten
with a relish. Then he went away a moment, .
and came back with some water in a horn on;
which hgésarried in It}: pouch. She tasted i ,
and look u in surp . _

“ Drink,” xgaid the chief, “it W11] do you

1’ .

good- . . ,, .

“ I do not like it, replied she. _

“Great medicine. all you drink much;
make you strong. Medicine of Onondaga." ,

They: rested an hour, and then started on.,,~ ..
The chief had gone low down the country. last» I

 

‘ .

 

   
  

a

he should meet the Onondagas. They were now
nearing the head—waters of the Mohawk, and
there they rested for the night. I—re-ton had
not the least apprehension of pursuit by the
English. The two dread scouts, Eagle Eye and
Big Elk, being out of the way, he feared none
others and deemed his way clear. The place
where they passed the night was near Oneida,
on the river about half-way down from Syra—
cuse. Clara was very weary, and after she had
again eaten of the parched corn, she sunk into a
restless slumber. They had traveled thirty
miles that day. The grim chief sat down and
looked at his sleeping charge as she lay with her
head resting on her arm, and her hair floating
softly ovor her bare white shoulders. He did
not sleep, but, through the long night, sat with
his back against a tree, until the gray light of
the morning began to fall upon the spot.

Then he roused her, and again served a ration
of meat and corn. This eaten, they went on
their way. Where Canada Creek joins the Mo-
hawk, he broke off from the main stream and
went on toward the country of the Mohawks.
That night they rested near Trenton Falls,
with the roar of the cataract sounding in their
ears.

Meanwhile, the Scouts had not been idle. They
followed hard during the day, laughing in their
hearts when they found the imprint of her tiny
heel ground upon the earth. They also marked
the broken twigs she left behind, and, at Selina,
found the footprints of I-re—ton near the spring.
Ralph already had fathomed his design of going
to the Mohawk country; so, sending Eagle Eye
by way of Oneida Castle to cut off the Mohawk
upon the only other path he could take, the
young scout went on by the river at his best
speed. He had at first expected the Mohawk to
go to Oswego, but was happily disappointed. The
chance of being a great man in his tribe again
had been too much for the renegade, and he now
sought to return to his own people. The longer
the route he took. the more chance there was of
rescuing Clara from his hands.

While the Mohawk was restin on the bank of
Canada Creek, the scout was wit in a few miles,
’ cautiousl following the trail. Far off he heard

the cry 0 the whippowil, and he knew that his

friendywas near at hand, and answared. Twenty
minutes passed, and Eagle Eye joined him.

. “ Have you found them?”

“ Ober dere," he replied.
.“ Is Clara with him?”
“ Yes, her dere."

Ralph sprung u lightly.

. “ Let us go.” ut the chief laid a restraining
gras upon his arm.

_“ 0t 29!” he said. “ I-re-ton hear, kill white
girl. Wait till day come; watch him close,
creep up when no t’ink, den all be good.”

Ralph saw the wisdom of the suggestion, and,
wrapping his blanket about him, waited the
coming of the morning. He passed a sleepless

night, rising often to peer out into the gloom, ‘

toward the spot where his beloved rapesed.
yitlh the first gleam of morning, he was on the
nu . .
That was useless to them now. Half a mile
away, the smoke of the Indian’s flre rose slowly.
He was now in the Mohawk country, and all

 

Pat. the Plucky Sergeant.

danger seemed fully past. His camp was upon
the bank of the black stream behind ahuge
bowlder of limestone. Twenty feet below, the
rapid stream, broken into a succession of beau-
tiful cascades, flowed on. In the midst of the
highest rapid, a great bowlder had been heaved
upward, and when the sw1ft water struck it, it
spouted into the air to the height of twelve feet,
changing color as it spread out in the rays.
First black, then dark green, light green, yel-
low, and finally the purest white. The girl left
the side of the chief, and gazed on the beautiful
scene in wonder and delight. I-re—ton sat stoi-

cally smoking by the fire, watching her move- '

ments to and fro. Soon she came back and
seated herself by the fire on the other side. A
strange look had come into her eyes. Her cheek
was very pale, but her glance was firm and
strong.

“Let the chief hear me,” she said, adopting
the language of the race. “ I am but a weak
woman, and he is a man, but let him listen to
what she has to say.”

“ The ears of the chief are open,” he replied,
rather shortly; “ he can hear."

“ The chief has taken me captive. He may be

sure that I will never come into his lodge. A ‘

white woman will sooner lose her life than to
mate with an Indian. Why will’not the chief
listen? He shall me made rich in all that an
Indian covets. He shall go back to his tribe
with many blankets and rifles. Will he let the
white girl go free?”

“Nebber do dat.
wam.”

“ Coward! I defy you.” Leaping away, she
disappeared like a flash of light from his vision.
He bounded to the bank’s verge. The bushes
overhung the rack below, and he could not see
the path which he knew was underneath. She
had dropped ten feet upon it.
ment’s thought he sgrung after her.

The lace where e landed was the narrow
path own which tourists now go, grasping at
the chain. along the wall. Only the creeping
vines served him for a support.
see her, and the hard limestone gave back no
echoing footsteps.

Mad with rage, he ran along the ravine to the
foot of the principal fall. No trace. With the
certainty that she had thrown herself into the
water, he retraced his steps. He was nearly to
the top of the cliff when he was appalled by the
vision of an Indian, whose face he knew too
well, coming down to meet him. It was the
Onondaga.

In that deadly glance which shot across the
intervening space, each read the purpose of the
other. I-re—ton had no arms but his hatchet
and knife, for he had left his rifle by the fire
above him. The brave Onondaga saw this, and
flung his own aside, and leaped out to meet his
foe. Three paces asunder, they halted, each
looking into the other‘s eyes. ‘ »

“ What ‘does the Eagle of the Onondaga here?
Is be tired of living? Let him make ready,
then. for his and is’uearl” ‘

“Ut—ta-wan is here, and he comes to kill the
murderer ofr women. Before you die, tell me
where is the white maiden?”

“ Find her if the black river will give her up

Must go to Injun’s wig-

Without a mo- ,

He could not

 
 

    
  
   
  

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Put. the Pluck, Sergeant.

   

 

 

to you.
dead.”

Eagle Eye set his teeth and advanced cau—
tiously toward his opponent. The place where
the fought was full of danger. Above, the
rec y wall rose many feet into the air; as far
below them roared the river. The ledge below
where they stood was barely three feet wide.

I-re-ton drew his tomahawk from his belt and

oised it in his hand, balancing back and forth.

erhaps he meant to throw it, but the Onon-
daga leaped suddenly upon him, and it flew from
his hand and dropped into the river. Both
drew their knives and struck a single blow, and
then the knife-hand of each sunk into the other’s
elm, which closed like a. vise about it. Ste
iy step the Onondaga forced his antagonist bac
along the ledge, meaning to get him to the
wider space below the fall, where they could
fight to better advantage. Once he loosened
his left hand, and struck him in the face, and
then seized his arm again. I-re~ton tried the
same experiment, and received a sharp cut in
the shou der before he could ras it a ain.
Once he tripped the Mohawk an fel upon im,
a trick he had learned from Re] h himself.
The breath of I-re-ton was coming 8 ort, for be
had not the iron strength of his antagonist.
But he struggled u from his knees and forced
his enemy resolute y backward. ’

Again the Onondaga struck his feet from un-
der him, and they fell, this time close to the
edge of the rock. At the same time Ralph
cnme springing down to the rescue of his friend.
I-re-ton saw him, saw that his days were num—
bered, and breakiu away once more, regardless
of. the knife buri to the hilt in his breast, he
seized Ut-tii-wan by the breast of his hunting-
shirt. Both read his surpass in his eye. Hope-
lcss himself, reading eath in the eye of the
scout and his companion. he only looked to die
in company with his hated foe; and so when he
had seized the Onondaga firmly, he dung him-
self resolutely backward, with the design of
di aggifig the red scout with him into the foam-
ing gu .

Ralph saw the danger of his friend in time.
Grasping flrmlya hanging vine with his left
hand, be extended the other quickly to his
friend, who was totterin on the very brink.
I~re-ton, still living, thong with a knife driven
through his breast, saw that his attempt had
failed, and, with a warrior’s pride, as Utrta—wan
would have held him for his scalp, he relin-

uished his hold, and fell back into the abyss.

he waters closed above his head, and all that
had been the famous renegade was drifting,
fearfully mangled, down into the Mohawk.

‘f Where is she, chiefl” asked Ralph, in a husky
vows.

“ Don’ knOW‘ he say she dare,” he pointed to
the water. “ r’aps he lie; p’r’a s not. Saw
her jump; not know where she go.
stream; me go up.” 1

CHAPTER XV.
‘ THE HAPPY COUPLE.

RALPH went down the stream a. mile, but
found no trace of his last one. The old rocks
echoed to her name, but she did not answer.
Meantime, the other passed the great waterfall,

The tumbling river never gives up its

on go down-

 

 

and ran u the ravine a long distance, like his
friend, wit out result. In coming back, his keen
eye discovered, lying on the leaves, a memento
of her. It was the ocket Ralph had sent back
to her, when he was a prisoner in the hands of
the French. This told him that she had not
fallen from the ledge, and that she had gone up
the stream. His shrill whoop recalled Ralph,
who soon stood by him, holding the relic in his
hand.

“ She has gone up the stream,” said Ralph;
“ let us follow her.”

“Rel hl” cried a sweet voice close at hand.
“ Dear alph.” . _

An exclamation of joy broke from his lips, and
he returned toward the fall. for the voice seemed
to come from the midst of the water. Then he
remembered that, when at home, he had told
her of this place, and how a ledge ran along be-
hind the falling sheet. She was there, and
springing through the foam of the waterfall. he
emerged with her, dripping like a Naiad, in his
arms.

She had caught a glimpse of Ut—ta-wan when
he passed by the fall, but, through theindistinct
medium, she thought hlm I-re—ton, and let him
Bass; but when she heard the voice of Ralph, she !

ad called to himvat once.

“ You look tired, dearest.”

“ I am tired Ralph,” she said, leaning her
head upon his s oulder; “ tired and footsore.”

“ You must rest,” said he, “ until we haVe built
a canoe. Have you courage to ride down-stream
in one?"

“I think I am never afraid when you are by,
Rakes,” she answered.

“ e will build it safe and strong.” She
watched them with eager interest as they brought
down the bark and cedar houghs, and fashioned
their frail bark. They were rapid workmen,
and by night the canoe was ready. But they
did not care to go till morning; so the lovers sat
down in the shadow. The chief went away from _.
the spot. He was gone nearly an hour; when he r
came back he brought a half-dozen pheasants in ‘ ‘
his hand. A fire was kindled on the rocks, and
they enjoyed the meal famously. Then resting
her head upon his knees, she slept a happy, in-
nocent sleep, while her lover counted it payment
for all his gains and sorrows to see her lying
there, with er head upon his knee. Night never
to be forgotten. Trouble might come upon them,
but that night they could not cease to remember,

‘in any after pain.

With morning the canoe was launched, and ,
they made their way down the river. At the ~
portages, the two men carried the canoe be-
tween them, while she walked cheerfully by
their side.

They overtook the army at Edward. The
colonel came out of the fort, and took Clara in
his arms, as if she had been his own child.

“ Are you strong enough to hear something I
have to tell you about him?”

She knew who he meant at once. “Tell me,
tell me,” she gasped, her lips growing. white as
ashes. “ Anythin rather than suspense.”

He took her by t e hand and led her into his

uarters. A man, sitting with his back to the
r 001', rose as she entered, holding out his arms.
She gave one look, like a startled bird, uttered

     

 

 

.i
L
,,
i

 

 

28 Pat. the Plucky Sergeant.

 

a joyful cry, and sunk into them. It was
Major Browul

It seemed that Montcalm had claimed him from
the Indians, after the fort was taken, had set
him free on parole, and sent him, under escort,
to Fort Edward—the party bringing him pro-
ceeding thence to Crown Point. bus, in the
providence of God, those who had seemed to be
Lost to Clara forever, were brought back to

er.

Her lover came in soon after, accompanied by
a full-faced, determined looking man, in the
dress of the rangers so famous in the history of
these times. That man was Israel Putnam—
“ Old Put,” of revolutionary memory—who was
then in command of this the most efficient body
of Indian-fighters on the frontiers.

“ I am oing to stop this scouting on the part
of Ralph arren, now and forever,” said he, in
his bluff, plain way, “ and so I have taken forci-
ble possession of him, thrust a commission as cap-
tain in my rangers into his pocket, and he shall
serve in it, I swear. And another thing, Major
Bowen—come here a moment, if Miss Clara will
excuse us.”

“ You are plotting, I believe, Major Putman,”
laughed Clara. “ but go on; I will console myself
with the loss by talking with the colonel."

“ No, you won’t,” replied the major. “ Come
here, colonel, I want you. Ralph, you. talk to
her. New, major—”

He led the way to the other side of the room,
and taking the major b the button, said:

“Now, major, what want is, to have these
young peo le comfortably married. They are
Just made or one another, and if anybody de-
serves your jewel of a. dau hter, it is Ralph!
See how nobly he worked for er, and what dan-
gers be rescued her from. They must be married,
major.’

“Just as you say, Major Putnam. These
young folks are betrothed. and any time they
can make up their minds that it is right to step
OR. I am not the man to stand in their way.”

“Well, Ralph, what does she say?” demanded
“ Old Put,” turning‘ sharply u n him. Ralph
flushed as red as Clara. “ um,” said “ Old
Put,” “ I guess it is all right, and we might as
well have in the chaplain.”

“ It seems to me you are disposing of me at a

. fine rate, Major Putnam,” cried Clara, plucking

up 3 irit.

“ bellion, flat rebellion,” re lied “Put.”
“This won‘t do. Have in the c aplaiu, Mr.
Orderly,” he said to Barnes, who had come in
and stood grinning at the door. “Don’t stand
there, you monkey.”

Barnes disappeared instanter, as most men
would when told to do so by “ Old Put.” The
chaplain came in, and these two who had suffered
so much for each other, were made man and wife.
Andhthey were happy, because they had loved
muc .

Eagle Eye stood near at hand, an interested
spiectator. Put, the Plucky sergeant. was at his
a: e.

“ Be jabers but it’s meself as wishes ’em luck,
an’ many childers.

“ Ugh! Good i” re lied the chief. The idea of
children of that stoc had leased him.

When all was over, and t a happy couple were

 

alone in the colonel’s tent, the chief suddenly
stood before them.

“Eagle Eye go now. He go alone. Bi Elk
no more aid him. Ut-ta—Wan much sorry, ough
he much glad for his frien‘. Good~by, now.”

He extended his hand. Clara rasped it and
pressed it to her lips in silence. hen Ralph led
his red pard out, and hand in hand they pro-
ceeded to the fortress gate, out of which gig
passed. At the edge of the woods they pan .

Placing the chief’s hand on his breast, he
simply said:

“ Chief, God bless you i”

And Eagle Eye was gone.

THE END.

 

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BEADLE’S BOY’S LIBRARY.

 

Published Every Saturday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents

 

1 Deerhunter, the Boy Scout of the Great North
Wood B Oil Gnomes.
2 Buffalo Bil from Boyhood to Manhood. By Col.

P. In ruham.
By Albert W.

8Kit rson. King of Guides.
4 Gordon Lillie. the Boy-Interpreter of the Pew.

Aiken

nees. B Major H. B. Stoddard.

5 BruinA ams.Old Grizzly‘s Boy Pard. By 001.
P. Ingraham.

6 Deadwood Dick as a Boy. By Edward L.
Wheeler.

7 Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince: By Col. Prentiss
Ingraham.

8 The Prairie Ranch; or. The Young Cattle-
Herders. By Joseph E. Badger Jr ‘

9 Roviu
By A. Po .

10 Texas Jack, the Mustang King. By 001. Prentiss
lugrnham.

11 Charla Skylark. A Story of School—day Scrapes
and ollege Capers. By Major H. B.
Stoddard.

12 Manposa Marsh; or, The Golden Treasure of
Spring Steel. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

13 Roving Ben. A Story of a Young American who
Wanted to See the World. By John J. Mar-

shall.
14 bl‘apring Steel, King of the Bush. By J. E.

ger, r.

15 Wide-Awake George, the Boy Pioneer. By Ed-
ward Willett.

16 The Boy Wizard; or, The Silver Land Seekers.
By Barry Ringgold.

17 Peter Pepgerzrass, the Greanhorn from Gotham.

- By Noah ufl’.

18 Adrift on the Prairie.~and Amateur Hunters on
the Buffalo Ra¥e By 011 Coomes.

19 The Fortune outer or, Roving Joe as Miner,

» Cowboy, Trapper and unter. By A. H. Post.

20 Tra per Tom the Wood Im ; or, old Toma-
haw ’s Sulphunt. B T. C. arbaugh.

21 Yellow Hair, the Boy bio: of the Pawnees. By
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

22 The Snow Trail' or. The Boy Hunters of Fur-
Land. By T. C. harbaugh.

23 Old Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tamer. By Dr.
Frank Powell.

24 Woods and Waters; or, The loits of the

Cap . Frederick

Littleton Gun Club. By
Whittaker.

25 A Rolling Stone. Incidents in the Career on Sea
findEIatgd of Col. Prentiss Ingraham. By Wm.

‘ ys r.

28 Red River Rovers; or. Life and Adventure in the
Northwest. By C. Dunnin Clark.
Plaza and Plain; or Wild dventures of “Buck-
un Sam," (Maj. sam s. Hall.) By Col. r.

Ingra -
28 The Sword Prince. The Romantic Life of Col.
Monetary. B Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
29 Snow-Shoe om- or. New York Boys in the
Wilderness. B ’r. c. Harbaugh.

Joe.st The History of a, “ Border Boy."

‘30 Paul de Lacy, he French Beast Charmer. By

C. D. Clark
81 Round the Camp Fire; or Snow Bound at
Freeze-Out Cam . By Jose hE. B ,1 am,
e .

fil-White Beaver, e Indian edicine
Col. Prentiss In raham.
The Boy C er; or, How a PW and a. Fool
Saved 8. King. By Capt. Fred. ittaker. _
34 3h; ghase 013mg (gent iWhétfiEfiag, and. Camp
n anoe. . unn .
85 Old Tar Knucykle and Hit-8303' Chums; or, The

Mon 11 ui aux Borders. B R.
smr%m'ot t 'e- Eso m y

 

36 The Dashing Dragoon' or, The Story of Gen.
George A. Custer. By Captain Fredreck Whit

taker.
87 Night-Hawk George. By. Col. Prentiss Ingraw

am.

88 The Boy Exiles of Siberia; or, The Watch-Dog
of Russia. By T. C. Harbaugh. _

39 The Young Bear Hunters. By Morris Redwmg.

40 Smart Sim, the Lad with a. Level Head. By
Edward Willett. .

41 The Settler’s Son; or, Adventures in Wilderness
and Clearing. By Edward Ellis.

42 Walt Ferguson’s Cruise; A Tale of the Antarctic
Sen. By C. Dunning Clark.

43 Rlfle and Revolver; The Little GllnClub on the
Bufl’alo Range. B Capt. Fred Whittaker.

41 The Lost Boy Wha ers' or. In the Shadow of the
North Pole. By T. C. Iarbaugh.

45 Broncho Billy, the Saddle Prince. By COL ‘P.
Ingrahsm.

46 Dick, the Stowaway; A Yankee Boy‘s Strange
Cruise. By Charles Morris.

47 The Colorado Boys; or, Life on an Indigo Plan.
tation. By Joseph E. Badger, r.

48 The Pampas Hunters; or New York Boys in
'Buenos Ayres. B T. C. arbaalfih.

49 The Adventurous to of Nebr a. Chm-lie, the
“'Boy Medicine Man" of the Pawnees, By Col.
Prentiss Ingraham. ..
Jack, Herr and Tom, the Three Champion
Brothers. . Ca t. Fred Whittaker,

51 The Young Lan -Lubber; or, Prince Porter‘s
First Cruise. By C. Dunning Clar .

52 The 80% Detectives; or, The Youn
ans in h anghni. By T. C. Harbaug .

53 Honest Harry' or, The Country Boy Adrift in
the City. By Charles Morris. A

54 California Joe, the Mysterious Plainsman. By
Col. Prentiss In%;aham.

55 Tip Tease], the loater: or, Fortunes and Mic.
fortunes on the Mississippi. By Edward Willett. ,

56 The Snow Hunters;_or, Winter in the Woods.

3y Bar de Forrest.
57 We? omers, the Sailor Boy Magician. By S.

Californi-

came.

58 The Adventurous Life of Captain Jack, the Bar-
ber Boy. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

59 Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines. By.
Charles Morris. '

60 The Youn Trail Hunters; or. New York Boys
ln Grizzly and. T. C. Harbaugh. , ,

61 The Tiger Hunters; or, The Colorado Boys in
Elephant-Land. By Joseph E. Bad or, Jr.

62 Doctor Carver, the “ Evil Spirit ” o the Plains.
Br Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm.

68 B ack Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker. By
Roger Starbuck.

64 Youn Dick Talbot' or. A. Boy’s Rough and
Tumb e Fight from ew York to California. By
A. W. Aiken. .

Pilot; or, The Island Wrecker. By

COL P. ngraham. ~ ’

66 The Desert Rover; or, Stowaway Dick Among
the Arabs. By Charles Morris. 1

67 Texas Charlie, the Boy Ranger. By Col. Prentiss

In ham. . ,
68 Lifillae Rifle; or, The Young Fur Hunters. By .
Captain “ Bruin “ Adams.
69 The Young Nigfligtfi or, A Yankee Boy Among
y 0

th Russians. tries M rrls.
70 Po: ,the Cowbo ; or. The Young Marshal's
Bail; Major . B. Stoddard Ear-Scout.

971 Rufl Robsart and His Bear; or, The Trail of Lit.
tle Rifle. Ca tain “ Bruin " Adams.
. 72 The Ice Elep an ' or, The Castaways of the Long
- Coast. By Capt. 'Frederlck Whittaker.

 

 

 

 

BEADLE’S BOY‘S LIBRARY.

 

78 The Young’Moose-Hunters: or, Trail and Camp-
Fire in the New Brunswick Woods. By Wilham
H. Manning.

74 The Boy Cornl~Fishers: or, The Sea Cavern
Scourge. By Roger Starbuck.

75 Revolver Billy. the Boy Ranger of Texas. By
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

76 The Condor-Killers: or, Wild Adventures at the
Equator. By T. C. Harbaugh.

77 Lud Lionheels, the Young Tiger—Fighter. By
Roger Starbuck.

78 Flatboat Fred: or, The Voyage of the Experi-
ment. By Edward Willett.

79 Boone, the Hunter; or. The Backwoods Brothers.
By Captain F. Whittaker.

80 Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Cascades.
By R. Starbuck. ’

81 The Kit Carson Club: or. The Young Hawkeyes
in the Northwest. By T. C. Harbaugh.

82 Little Buck, the Boy Guide: or, The Gold “ Eye "
of. Montana. By Barry nggold.

83 Pony Bob. the Reckless Rider of the Rockies. By
Col. P. Ingraham.

84 Captain Fly-by-Night; or, The Colorado Boys on
the War~Path. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

85 gaptain Ralph, the Young Explorer. By C. D.

ark.

86 Little \Dan Rocks: or. The Mountain Kid’s Mis-
sion. By Morris Redwing.

87 The Menagerie Hunters; or, Fanny Hobart, the
Animal Queen. By Maj. H. Grenvrile.

88 The Boy Tramps; or, Life Among the Gipsies.
By J. M. Hoflman.

89 ’Longshore Lige' or, How aRough Boy Won His
Way. By C. D Clark.

90 Roving Rm '1: ter’s Little Scout.
Harbaugh.

91 Oregon Jos‘

   
 

.

By T. C.
Wizard Rifle. By Roger Star-

92 Hurricane 1x. . Old Lightning on the Ramp-
ago. By A. tfiolt.
98 J umging Jake, the Colorado Circus Boy. By B.
Bain ridge.
94 Sam Spence, the Broadhorn Boy. By Ed. Willett.
95 Moscow to Siberia; or, A Yankee Boy to the
Rescue. By Charles Morris.
96 Fighting Fred: or, The Castaways of Grizzly
Camp. By T. C Harbaugh.
97 Cruise of the Fiyawa) : or. Yankee Boys in Cey-
’ ion. By C. Dunning Clark.
98 The Boy Vigilantes; or. King Cole and His Band.
By Major H. B. Stoddard.
99 The White Tigers; or, Silver Rifle. the Girl Track-
, er of Lake Superior. By Capt. Chas Howard.
100 The Snow-Shoe Trail- or. The Forest Desper-
adoes. By St George Bathbone.
101 Mariano, the Ottawa Girl; or, The Mysterious
Canoe. By Edward S. Ellis.
102 The Flyawa Afloat: or, Yankee Boys Round
the World. y C. Dunning Clark.
103 Pat Mulloney’s Adventures: or. Silver Tongue.
the Dacotah Queen. By C. L. Edwards.
104 The Boy Pros ctor; or, The Secret of the Sierra
Ravine. By oger Starbuck.
105 Minonee, the Wood Witch: or, The Squatter’s
Secret. By Edwin Emerson.
106 The Boy Cruisers' or Joe and Jo ’s Find.
By Edward Willett. ’ 9 Big
10'? The Border Rovers: or. Lost on the Overland
TraiL ByJ. Milton Roman.

 

108 Alaska, the Wolf-Queen By Captain Howard
Lincoln.

109 Christian Jim, the White Man’s Friend. By Ed
ward S. Ellis.

110 Plucky Joe, the Boy Avenger. By J. M. Hoflman.

111 The Border Gunmaker; or, The Hunted Maiden.
By James L. Bowen.

112 Left-Handed Pete, the Double'Knife. By Jos.
E. Badger. Jr

113 The River Rifles; or, The Fate of the Flatboat.
By Capt. J. F‘. 0. Adams.

114 Alone on the Plains' or, The She-Eagle's Venge
ance. By Edward Willett.

115 Silver Horn, and His Rifle Firedeath. By Roger
Starbuck.

116 Ex loits ol’ Hezekiah Smith, the Backwoodsman.
By merson Rodman.

117 The Young Mustangers; or, Die]: Merry's Ran-
gers. By C. Dunning Clark.

118 OlllidTraps; or, The Boy Rivals. By Barry Ring- ‘
go .

119 Center Shot, the White Crow. By T. C. Har-
baugh.

120 A Hot Trail; or, Clark Cloveriy Among the Tar-
tars. By Charles Morris.

121 Hunter Pard Ben: or, The Wakash‘s Blind Lead.
By Roger Starbuck.

122 The Esquimaux Queen; or, The Mystery of the
Lone Hut. By G. Waldo Browne.

123 Tim. the Boy Acrobat: or, Life in the Circus
Ring. By Charles Morris.

1% Queen Bessie, the Border Girl. By Henry J.
Thomas.

125 Tom Tabor, the Boy Fugitive: or. The Young
Lynch Gang Wolves. By Barry Ringgold.

126 Mink Coat, the Death-Shot; or. The Spring of
the Tiger. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

127 The Deer Hunter; or, Life in the Ottawa Conn
t . By John J. Marshall.

128 Wolf-Ca ; or. the Nightfiawks of the Fire-
Lands. y Capt. Chas. Howard.

129 Silverssur; or, The Mountain Heroine. By Ed-
ward '

180 gefitsea, Queen of the Plains. By Percy B. St.

0 n. .

131 Wistah. the Child Spy. By George Gleason.

132 The Island Tra pcr: or, The Young White-But-
falo Hunters. y Charles Howard.

133 The Forest Specter: or. The Young Hunter‘s
Foe. .By Edward Willett.

184 Wild Nat, the Trooper; or. The Cedar Swamp
Brigade. By Wm. B. Eysten

135 The Silver Bugle: or. The Indian
Croix. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine.

186 The Prairie Tra per; or. The
Brigade. By C. unmng Clark.

187 TheAntelcaie Boy; or. Smoholler, the Medicine
Man. By no. L. Aiken.

138 Long Shot; or, The Dwarf Guide. By Captain

Maiden of St.
Child of the

Comstoc
139 It’iglonei Crockett, the Bear King. By C. E.
6- .
140 Old Pegs the Mountaineer; or, The Trapper

Rivals. By Lewis W. Carson.

141 The Giant Hunter; or, The Mad Scourge of the
Kickapoos. By Harry Hazard.

142 Black Panther, the Half-Blood: or. The Slaves
of the Silver Mines. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

143 Carson the Guide; or. The Perils of the Fran

. tier. ry Lieut. J. 11. Randolph.

 ‘ hen».-— .

,,_..‘ «Wt amen :

 

 

Kn

 

 

 

aum‘r‘é

 

.74-

    


it
i

 

.W rm. -

 

 

 

BEADLB’S BOY’S LIBRARY.

144 Kent, the Runner; or. The Fu xitives of the Bor-
der. By Edward S. Ellis.

145 Bill Robbins. Hunter; or, The Man in Green. By
Edward Willett.

146 The Half-Brew] Rival; or, The Tangled Trail.
By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

147 The Masked Avenger; or, Desth on the Trail.
By Col. 1’. lngrnham.

148 Nat. thn Trappor and Indian Fighter. By Paul
J. Prescott.

1:9 The E k Demon; or, The Giant Brothers. By
T. C. Harhaugh.

150 The Boy MustangHunter; or, Eulalie, the
Beautifu Amazon. By Frederick Whittaker.

151 Frank Yates. the Young Traplger: or, Mountain
Kate‘s Warning. By Joseph . Badger, Jr.

152 Wild Raven, the S out; or. Blanche, the Over-
land Muiden. By 011 Coomes.

153 Lynx-C(11); or, Four Trappers Among the Sioux.
By Paul iibbs.

154 The Champion Texan Rider; or, Red Buffalo
and the Hercules Hunter. By Hrrry St. George.

155 Dusky Dick’s Ihom; or. Tobe Castor, the Oil
Scout. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

156 Frank Bell. the Boy Spy; or, The Mystery of
Crystal Lake. By Oil Coomes.

157 Nick Doyle, the Gold-Hunter. By P. H. Myers.

158 Kidnagped Dick; or, The Fate of the Fire-Fly.
By J. tanley Henderson.

159 Sam‘s Long Triii; or, The Twin Scouts.
J. Hamilton.

160 Hank Triplet‘s Vow; or. The Old Guide’s Wrong
Trail. By Harry Hazard.

161 The Mad Skipper: or. The Cruise of the Monon-
gahela. By Roger Starbuck.

162 The Trapper King; or. Oid Bear-Paw, the Yan-
kee Scout. By Maj. Max Martino.

163 Simon Kenton, Hunter; or. The Renegade’s
Doom. By Emerson Rodman.

164 The BoyChiEf; or, Frank Bell’s Compact. By
011 Coomes.

165 The Trader Traitor: or, Old Bark the Marksman.
By J. Stanley Henderson.

166 Old Jupe‘s Clew; or, The Darky Detective. By
Mrs. Orrin James.

167 The Youno Trailer :or, The Black League's Plot.
By w. J. fiamiiton.

168 Thes ecter Spy; or. The Wizard Canoe. By
Maj. ewis W. Carson. »

169 Lank Lute. the Old Colorado Hunter.
W. Archer.

170 The White Wolf; or, Following a Trail. By
Edward Willett.

171 The Swamp Guide; or. Canebrnke Mose and his
Dog. By W. N. McNeil.

172 The Yankee Paddler; or. Jsbez Hawk,.the Spy.
By C. Dunning Clark.

173 The Scout and His You '1
St. John. M Chum By warm

174 Blacksmith Tom's Mask: or The Bone ede
Rival. By Geo. D. Gilbert. ’ g

175 The Buckskin Rider; or, The White Scourge. By
Guy Gieenwood. v

176 The ., uattei"s Surprise; or. Frontier Lite at

Squire oker’s. By Mrs. H. J. Thomas.

177 Four Fellow Scouts; or The Unseen Hand. By
J. Stanley Henderson.

17! Old Kit and His Comrades; or, The Long Trail.
By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

By W.

By E.

 

 

 

179 Uncle Grili‘s Disguise: or, Tom Drain, the Young
Ranger. By Harry Hazard.

180 The Marked Miner: or. Jolly Jon the Dutch
Trailer. By Lieut. Col. Hazcltine.

181 The Wild Huntress; or, Old Grizzly the Bear-
Tamcr. By Capt. Bruin Adams.

182 The Dwarf Decoy; or, The White Steed Rider.
By Marc 0. Rollie.

183 Job Dean’s Tac‘ics: or. The Captain‘s Fair
Rescuer. By Ingoldsby North.

184 Yankee Eph‘s Dilemma; or, the Scheming Sultor
Foiled. By J. R. Worcester.

185 The Wily VVitch’s \Vard. By Edwin E. Ew'n.
186 Frank, the Farrier: or. The Yankee Maciczd
Medicine Arrow. By J. Stanley Henderson.

187 Diana, the Fair Mountaineer. By Capt. F. Whit-
taker. ’

188 Jack’s Snare; or, The Kent Boys‘ Plot. By Mrs.
Ann E. Porter.

189 Sam. the Swamp Scout. A Romance of 1779.
By W. J. Hamilton.

190 The Dashint: Trooper; or. The HalLBresd’s
Revenue. By Frederick Dewey.

191 The Boy Brave; or. Stone" Castle's Shrer
Schemcr. By James L. Bowen:

192 Sandy Bill. of Texas; or, The White Apache‘s.

Doom. By Edward Willctt.

198 Harry Winkle‘s Long Chase; or, the Haunted
Hunter. By Wm. R. Eyster.

194 Creeper Cato, the Shadow Swamp Trailer. By
F. Dewey.

195 The Ranger Detective; or. The Sculpless Hunter.
By Harry Hazard.

196 Gypsy Ma . the Mountain Witch; or, The Mys-
terious Mu 6. By C. D. Clark.

197 The Branded Captain; or, The Silent Slayer. By .

W. J. Hamilton.

198 Old Crossfirv's Crisis; or. Frank Nesbit, the
Young Trailer. By Capt. Charles Howard.

199 Zebra. Zack, the Texan. By W. J. Hamilton. \

200 The Nameless Hunter; or, the Dacoteh Scourge. ‘

By George W. Robinson.
201 The Yankee Captives. .By Edward Willett
202 Teddy’s Long Trail. By Edward S. Ellis. -

203 Old Hank. the Hermit; or, The Capture of the 7

Cave. By Edward W. A' cher.

204 Goosehead‘s Best Shot. By Jos. E.Badger, Jr.

205 The Dutchman’s Dread: or. Gottlieb and his
Hunter Pard. By Capt. Charles Howard.

208 Kit Burt’s Mask; or, Nick the Scout. By W. J.
Hamilton.

207 Eagle-Eyed Tim; or. The Crafty Captain’s Plot. »

By C. Dunning Clark. ,

208 The Village Sport; or. The Young Mechanic‘s
Muster. y James L. Bowen.~

209 Buck Burt’s Pluck; or. The Scouts of the Scloto.‘

By Edward Willett.

210 The Tell-Tale Bullet; or, The Outlaws’ Fate. By .

J. Stan] 1y Henderson.

211 The Bo Surveyor; or. Rugy, the Daring Rider.
By W. . Hamilton. /

2 2 Y kce Drover Swipes: or. The Young Mustang
1 Riadrlar. By Seelin Robins.

213 Silver City Tom; or. Blue Belt’s Barter. , By
‘ J L

ames . wen.

214 Nick, the Detective." or. The Border Vagabond's ‘.
Doom. 5 . ‘

By Edwin Ilimerson.

 

 

BEADLE'S BOY’S LIBRARY.

 

215 Mustang Rider Roy; or, The Brigands of Texas.
By Albert W. Aiken.
216 The Dakota Dutchman; or. Sharp Eye’s Brave
Band. By Ma]. Max Martine.
217 Yankee Josh. the Rover; or. Two Adventurers
in the Tropics By B. H. Belknap. M. D
218 New York Ned in California: or, The Brothers of
the League. By W. J. Hamilton.
219 Kentucky Kate’s Shot; or, Border Foes‘ Frays.
By Edward Willett.
220 ’Frisco Frank’s Rival; or. The Gold Cave of
Death Valley. By Paul J. Prescott.
221 Doctor Bag, Detective; or, Trailer Tom‘s Tact.
By Lewis Jay Swift.
e22 Sly Sam’s Snare; or, The Boy Hunter‘s Vow.
By Louis Legrand, M. D.
223 Old Nancy's Word or, The Rustic Rifle Ran-
gers. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine.
224 Rattle ate. the Nabob; a Story of New York in
Early imes. By Scott R. Sherwood.
225 N ight-Hawk Bill; or. The New York Sportsmen’s
Clew. By W. J. Hamilton.
226 The Masked Maniac; or, The Old Man‘s Mission.
By Marc 0. Rolfe.
227 Barney‘s Bold Brush; or, Three Youths in Idaho.
By James L. Bowen.
228 The Deadwood Sports- or, Diamond Dick’s De-
liverance. By Lient. . G. Lansing.
229/Hans Schmidt, Jr.; or, The Disguised Yankee.
By W. J. Hamilton.
230 Lone Star‘ Sure Shot; or, The One—Armed Rival.
By Harry Hazard.
231 Mark Morgan’s Mask; or, The Girl Avenger. By
Capt. Charles Howard.
282 Billy Broom‘s First Cruise; or. Tom Pintle, the
V Pilot. By H. Minor Klapp.
283 The Girl Rifle-Shot. By W. J. Hamilton.
234 Old Kyle’s Long Tramp; or, Zeke, the Renegade.
By Henry J. Thomas.
285 Old Bill Syce’s Pledge; or, The Texan Unmasked.
By Edward Willett.
286 The On-the-Wing Detective- or, Tracking a New
York Bank Robber. By Ed. 8. Ellis.
‘23? The DolPhin’s Young Skip r; or. Will Wing,
A I the Pear Pirate. By Roger tarbuck.
, 288 Josh‘s Bog Pards; or. The Mysterious Sky Ran-
, ger. By . G. Lansing.
289 Lee Dakin’s Disguise; or. The Madman's Re-
. venge. By Marc 0. Rolfe.
' 210 Daring Dick‘s Race; or. The Yankee Peddler’s
‘ Surprise. By Arthur L. Meserve.
241 Uncle Ephe's Boys; or, Archy Gordon’s Grit.
By J. Stanley Henderson.
9242 ’Cycli’st Bob Snared: or. The Champion‘s Rival.
By Capt. R. M. Hawthorne.
213 F'laah-Lirzht Joe; or. Brave, the Canine Scout.
By Charles P. Isley.
244 Bob Baker‘s Last Leag; or Old Reuben's Be-
, venge. By T. Benton hields. U. S. A.
245'North Woods Nat; or. The .Young Mountain
Captain. By W. J. Hamilton.

248 The Girl Chief; or, Dolly’s Droll Disguise. By
J. M. Merrill.

or The Miners of

247 Denver Dick, the Rattler:
. Deadwood Gulch. By Harry Hazard.

248 Black Jim’s Doom; or. Billy Bowlegs‘sRevenge.
By Lieut-Col. Hazeltine.

249 Morgan. the Sea Rover The Shrewd Scotch-

men 5 Scheme. By J 0 Warner.

 

250 Zach's Ghost Trap; or, The Haunted House. By
George Applegate.

251 Kyd‘s Bold Game; or, the Death Trail Mystery.
By Paul Bibbs.

252 Sancho Sam’s Shot; or. Fort Binklry's Specter
Riders. By George Gleason.

253 Crafty Crazy Slack; or, The French Fugitive.
By Harry Hazard.

254 The Fighting Quaker; or, The Droll Darky‘s
Dismay. By Edward S. Ellis.

255 The Ranger‘s First Cruise: or. The Yankee Tar
Abroad. By John S. Warner.

256 Bob Gage‘s Crew: or. The Boys of Logger-Camp.
By John Neal.

257 Tommy‘s Fast Pacer: or. Searching for “ Uncle
Josiah.” By W. J. Hamilton.

258 Doc Bell‘s Pluck' or, The Frenchman's Fate.
By Capt. Charles Howard.

259 Rocky Mountain Burt; or, Harry, the Furrier‘s
Son. By Edward Willett.

260 Reckless Ralfig’s Risk; or, The Tell-Tale Clew.
By James L. wen.

261 Gold Nugget Dick; or, Two Boys‘ Good Luck.
By Tom P. Morgan.

262 Ira’s Big Bonanza: or, Mysterious Crazy Tom.
By Harry Hazard.

263 Josh Mnrsten Detective; or, The Crafty Agent‘s
Crime. By ary A. Denison. .

264 Uncle Jer . the laker; or, the Schoolmaster‘s
Trial. By ohn eal.

265 The Skip er‘s Mate: or, The Cruise of the Fire-
Fly. By arry Cavendish.

266 The Girl Cowboy Captain; or. The Skinners of
the Carolina Swamps. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

267 Eph. the Mimic Spy; or, The Frenchman‘sDoom.
By W. J. Hamilton.

268 Ralph‘s Last Tramp; or, The Woodman's Recre-
ant Rival. By Edward S. Ellis.

269 Sol Steele‘s Grudge; or. The Madman of the
Miami. By Edward Willett.

270 Jack. the Coast Detective; or. The Disguised
Captain’s Clerk. By Roger Starbuck.

271 Old Gotlieb. the Jnllv Landlord; or. The
Daring Dutch Damsel. By Herrick Johnstone.

272 The Boy Boomer; or, Pawnee Bill‘s Protege. .
By Howard M. Boynton.

278 Red Mike‘s Ruse. By W. J. Hamilton.

274 Bonny, the Dutch Damemr The Alder-man‘s Lit
tle Protegee. By Decatur Baulding, U. S. N.

275 Conrad, the Ocean King' or. Leon Lorraine‘s
Disguise. By Harry Mon ext.

276 Pat. the Pluck Sergeantmr, Ralph on the War-
Path. By W. . Hamilton.

2'77 Jack Jordan ’5 Pard; or, The Santa Fe Hunters.
By Mrs. M. V. Victor.

278 Tom. the Old Tar; or, Jack Winthrop‘s Long
Trail. By Roger Starbuck.

279 Dolly's Death-Shot; or DuskyiMark. the Young
Wild-Cat. By Capt. Charles oward.
v y August 24.

280 Detective German Joe; or The Flying Dutch-
man Out West. By Howard M. Boynton.
Ready August 81.

BEADLB‘B Bow 5 Lrsmv is for sale by all News-
dealers, five cents per copy. or sent by mail on re-
ceipt of six cents each

Bum: um Anus, Publishers,
98 William Street, New York.

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