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a Reckless Ralph's Risk.

 

Reckless Ralph’s BiSk:

THE TELLﬂnE CLEW.

BY JAMES L. BOWEN,

aurnon. Or “BARNEY’s BOLD BRUSH,” “Tun
VILLAGE srom," "ran BOY BRAVE,”
“(ran BORDER GUNMAKER,” arc.

CHAPTER I.
run FUR-DEALER AND THE HUNTER.

Tan railroad which to-day passes through
the thriving town of 0—, in Ohio, crosses a
small creek some little distance before reaching
the village. Leaving the railroad at this point,
and dropping every modern association of the

, let us go back to the time of the first set-

lers. It is not very many years—precisely how

many is no matter of especial interest. Suﬂice

it to .'say that at that time the primeval forests

still lined the banks of Silvsr Run, as the little
stream had been named by the first settlers.

Here a gallant body of pioneers had halted,
struck by the beauty of ,the scenery, the abund-
ance of game, and an unusually good water-
privilege which could be employed tor the vari-
ous purposes requiring “ power." Selecting a
rich bottom, they built a lettlement. surround-
ed~by hills upon nearly every side.

Thesite had been named “Forest Valley,”
and certainly no appellation could have been
more characteristic and appropriate.

Several years had passed, during which the
settlement grew and throve. At the time when
our story opens it contained nearly twenty
dwellings, a rude church, with blacksmith-shop
and store.

The latter was such an institution asthe needs
of it community demanded—where furs and
the ' ew productions of the forest-homes found a
ready exchange for powder and lead, bad
I is y and Indian trinkets, besides such articles
as'were needed by .the settlers in their more
peaceful pursuits. '

The store, and. indeed, the majority of the
buildings in Forest Valley, belonged to a person
named Jehonikam Andrews-a man who had
noticed theﬂne oints of the settlement. and at
open invested h s all in such ways as nearly to
monopolies the active ower of the place.

The mill had been uilt by his capital, and
the lumber which it had turned into his hands
had been employed in the erection of new houses,
‘11 .. or which found ready occupants, even if
Jehonikam’s prices and terms were slightly out-
ra eons. ‘

 

rt. from his love of money and position, he ,

waspot considered a bad citizen, and many
little acts .of kindness showed that good lurked
beneath an almost miserly exterior. Indeed,
with those who were independent of him Jehoni-
kam was chatty and sociable, dispowlto laugh
and e~with a hearty relish. But all familiar-
ity rom‘thosewho were in his power was nip-
 pom the bud. . _

i r The habitation in which Andrews dwelt was a
small house situated near the “store.” His

 

family consisted merely of a pleasant, beautiful
daughter, twenty years of age, Nancy Andrews
by name, and himself. His day was spent in
the store and around the place, excepting only
service hours on Sunday, when he was foremost
1n the little church, where a simple-minded
dwme dealt out stereotyped truths from Sun-
day to Sunday.

. As Jehonikam only ate and slept at home, it
is but natural that we should ﬁnd him in the
store the moment we introduce the opening
scene of our story. A counter ran from one
side of the apartment to the other, a rude writ—
ing-desk rising at one extremity, at which
Jeponikam was busy with a greasy account-
book. But two others were in the store at the
time, one of whom immediately took his leave,
with a small bundle, the proceeds of his barter
With the merchant.

The other was a tall and muscular young
man clad in the ordinary garb of a hunter. He
was eanlng against the counter, his dark eyes
bent upon the ﬂoor in a deep study. Occasion-
ally he glanced up at the merchant, who re-
mained for some minutes busy With his accounts,
then turned his gaze a sin upon the ﬂoor.

After he had wait for some time Jehoni-
kam closed his book, rolled u the furs for which
he had just made a shrewd argaio. and tossed
them into a drawer, which he carefully locked.
Having nothing ‘else to occupy his attention, he
now turned to the man who had been awaiting
his somewhat tardy movements.

“ Wal, Ralph,” he said, in tones which sound-
ed almost harsh. “ you said you wanted to con-
sult with me a little.”

“ I have come to you upon a matter such as I
never spoke of before. I don‘t know but you’ll
think I'm rather hold to ask you for such a'greut
favor."

Ralph Riley paused, evidently at a 1983 how

.to proceed, which Jehonikam perceived, and

came to his rescue gomptly.

“Never mind, alph,” he said; “If you
want any advance in your next lot 0‘ fur, or
anything out o’ the store, don’t be ateard to
speak right up. I know you too well to be
afeard to trust ye.” _

“ I have my house and farm—that is to be—
paid for now, and I have been thinkln that‘ I
might as well conclude to marry an settle
down for life!” ‘

“By all means. Iwas married afcre I was
old as you are this blessed minutei I don'tbe-
Iieve in any man’s waitin‘ till the last crack of
doomsday! If ou want to git married and
take comfort, w y dew it, that‘s my style. And
if there’s anything I can do to help the matter
ﬁlontﬂ jest name it, and I will lend you a

an .

“ Thank you, sir, for the kindness. I have
found the woman to make me happy through
life,,andit you will but give your consent to
our marriage, all will he very near to comple~
tion. ' -

“Wal, why don’t ya say on?” demanded
Jehonikam, w‘ho evidently suspected what was
coming. . . .

“ The girl I love is your daughter, sir. I have
come to ask your consent to our marriage !"

“ What is that I hear?" demanded the en-

 

 

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44mm ~. - — A

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Reckless Ralph’s Risk. A 3:

 

raged parent. “ Do you dare come to me with
such a proposal t”

“ I dare nothing of the kind sir,” replied
Ralph, from whom all signs of fear and trem-
bling had now departed. “I merely came to
presgpt our mutual wishes, and ask your sane.
tiou.

“Bosh! hoshl” interrupted Jehonikam, as-
suming a. conﬁdential tone. “ The girl was
only making gammon of you, Ral h. She hasa
lover in the East, one that wil make her a
worthy husband, and she knows it.”

“ I love her, and she loves me. Haven’t I al-
ways conducted myself honorably with all who
have had anything to do with me?”

The speaker ﬁxed an eagle glance upon An-
drews, and the latter quailed before it. He
knew that the young man was honored b all
who knew him, and his own experience had een
suﬂicient to satisfy him that Ralph would make
his mark in the world. Yet the ‘almighty do].
lar ” stood before his vision, and he never could
think of such a thing as bestowing his daugh—
ter upon a comparatively poor young man,
while there was any chance of her becoming the
bride of one more blessed in worldly posses-
sions. Without raising his eyes to Riley’s face,
he said:

“ What is the use of all this? What has your
character to do with me or mine?”

“Just this,” was the ﬁrm reply. “ I love
your daughter, and my determination is to
marry her—come what will. The only objec-
tion you could raise is that of character, and
since I am all right in that respect, I fancy
that Nancy will have a will of her own in the
matter."

“ Beware. sir,” thundered the fur-dealer, as he
bent a ﬁerce scowl upon the young man. “ Do
not dare to insult me in my own house!”

“ I do not dare anything,” returned the other
calmly. “ Nancy assured me that she would no-
cept me as a husband, and I shall not withdraw,
certainly.” » ‘ .

Jehonlkam vaulted over the counter. and
pointed to the door. His face was ﬂushed
with passion, and it seemed with difﬁculty that
he refrained from laying violent hands upon

ph. .
“ 601” he exclaimed. “ Never dare to set
yourself over that door-sill again until you have

, made due apologies for your indecent conduct.

Go, I say! Don t you hear?"

‘ Certainly, sir. And since the house is yours
I have no intention but to obey. Still, I can
assure you that the day is not very far distant
when you will repent of all this.”

The words reached the ears of several persons
passing at the time, as also the angry rejoinder
of Jehonikam.

“ Never come into this store again. you pre-
gﬁming puppy; if you do, I’ll thrash you out of

_Ralph had little fear of the threat hein car-
ried out, but he did not wish a quarrel wit the
purse-proudfur-dealer, and drew himself away
from the vicinity, regardless of the numerous
questions pressed u n him by those who had
overheard the store eeper’s words.

Having settled his perturbed spirits into some-'

thing of order, Ralph turned upon his heel, and

 

made a straight cut to the house whore the ob-
ject of his aﬂ’ections resided. Of course he was
met at the door by Nancy in men. and they
were soon seated in the house, iscussing the an-
swer given by Jehonikam.

The fur-dealer ha pened to take a fancy sim-
ilar to that of RaJp . Closing and locking the
principal door of the store, he slipped out the
back way, and started direct] toward the
house. He arrived soon after Ra ph and Nancy
had taken a seat, and entered the room before
either discovered his presence.

“ So I ﬁnd you in my own house, viperl” ex-
claimed J ehonikam, brandishing a cane as the
youth rose to his feet. “ I’ll teach you to defy
me in this way 1“

And ﬂourishin the walking-stick he sprung in
the direction of lphI intending to give him a.
sound thrashing.

“No no, father.” pleaded Nancy, as she step-
ped before him; “ you must not hurt Ralph!"

But the angry father pushed her rudely aside,
and the next moment found himsolf locked in
the embrace of Ralph. The oung hunter was
muscular. extremely so, and t ough Jehonikam
.wns nearly his equal in bulk, he was far from
posssssing his strength. In vain he attempted
to use his staff. It was wrencth from his hand,
and himself raised bodily in the arms of the-
man he would have chastised, and carried to his
own door out into the street. '

For a moment it seemed the baﬂed fur-dealer
could not restrain his wrath, but after gazing
upon the athletic form of the man before him,
he Swallowed it, saying:

“ I only want you never to darken a door of
mine again."

“ If I do you will be very likely to know it ”
was all the answer the oung man vouchsafed;
and as a crowd was co acting, Jehoniksm beat
a retreat toward his store.

As before, the bystanders eagerly demanded
to know the cause of the tumult. But Ralph .
would not gratify them, and the fur-dealer was
€90 ciieeply wrought upon to submit to any ques-

ion as. . . ~

CHAPTER II.
. r n E 'r a A G n n Y. ,
Two days had passed since the little event
recorded in theapreceding cha ter. Night and
darkness reign over Forest alley. Suddenly
a wild, sharp cry—the Cl which ever convoys
such terror in settlements lie that in question— '
rung out upon the midnight air:
“Fire! FIREl" '
One sturdy pair of lungs after another took
up the shout. and the startled s‘lee rushed
forth from their homes to combat t e dreaded '

 

enem .

Ra ph Riley is u n his couch, not sleeping:
shut gazing and t in ing. The ﬁrst slam reao
ed his ear, and without pausing he sprunlfrout,
hastily dressed, and was soon in the open a .

At ﬁrst he saw no indications of any fire. but .
joining the hurrying crowd he soon found that
the ﬂames were kindled, or had broken out,

within the little dwelling occupied by Jehoni-g ‘-

kam Andrews.  x I"
With a quicker eye and clearer brain than ‘ ~

others, Ralph saw the state of aﬂ'aira. Selecting j

 

 

 

 

b the fearful revelations.

‘ A reached byarough stairway, which

' were di

such men as had buckets, he formed a line from
the bank of the creek to the dwelling, and as
buckets of water were passed rapidly along, he
dashed them in arson upon the ﬂames.

Shouts of app auSe went up as the progress of
the ﬂames was checked, and those who had la-
,bored thus far, were relieved by others from the
crowd. Renewed exertions brought correspond-
ing success,’ and in a short time the glad tidings
went from one anxious lip to another.

“ The ﬁre is outl"

Withdrawing, then, from his post of honor,
Ralph ran his eye rapidly over the faces of those
assembled. But the features he sought were not

ere.

“ Where are the people of the house?” he de-
mended.

Sure enough—where were they? None had
seen either J ehonikam or his daughter since the
outburst of the fire. During the fearful excite-
ment which revailed no one had thought of it.
But now an immediate search was instituted.

After calling aloud until satisﬁed that the v
were not in the vicinity, lights were procured,
and a party set about exploring the house. Th )
room where the ﬁre had occurred was perfectly
bare, and they immediately pushed on to the
ne t

x .
' As the door of the latter was opened a horrid
sight met their gaze. Lying upon the ﬂoor, in a
po)l of his own blood, was Jehonikam Andrews!
The room being ﬁlled with smoke, he was lifted
and borne to the open air, where a hasty exam.
ination was held.

It was evident from the ﬁrst that be was dead.
An examination of the body showed several deep
cuts, one upon the back plainly indicating that
he could not hava given the fatal blow himself.

. Besides he had been stabbed through the heart,

tvivhiclli was evidently the immediate cause of his
eat .

All, save Ralph, were.thoroughly overcome
He merely satisﬁed
11 mself that Jehonikam was past all human

‘ - assistance, and then he started in search of

Nancy. '
Hastin summoning one or two assistants, who

; ' grasped lights, they turned away and completed
. the exploration of the house.

Indeed, only the
It was
had been
partially burned down, so that it required a deal
of care to ascend. But Ralph heeded not the
aril. With a few quick bounds he reachedthe
oor above, and his companions could do no
less than to follow his impulsive lead.

But when the chamber was reached, and the
light had' brought all its outlines into view, a
low cry of distress broke from the hunter’s lips.
The one he sought was not there?

A quick search convinced Ralph that her body
was not within the conﬁnes of the building, and
then he hastened back to the excited group about
the body of Jehonikain with the painful intelli-

ence. Of course the former commotion was

ncizlreased rather than allayed by this additional
ev .

To render assurance doubly sure, messengers
etched to every house, to make certain
that she ad not ﬂed there in a moment of terror.
These soon returned with tidings that she was

chamber remained to _be searched.

 

Reckless Ralph’s Risk. .

not in the place, neither had any person seen her
since the previous evening.

The mystery which surrounded all the facts of
the case. served to make the citizens more eager
for the solving of the problem. Nothing of the
kind had been known to them before, and com-
mon safety demanded that such an example be
made as should thoroughly intimidate all la“ less
characters in the future.

Actuated by these feelings and motives, Ralph,
who was certainly the hero of the hi ht, took a
blazing torch, and suggested that t e room in
which the body had been found be thoroughly
examined, since something might be found from
which proof could be obtained.

Three men besides Ralph were selected to
make a careful inspection of the apartment.
Being well provided With lights they entered the
house, and closed the door, that no intruders
might disturb them in the operation. '

There were evidences of a severe though short
struggle having taken place. The only chair in
the room had been overturned and broken, and
the bed much disarranged-evidently after the
occupant had risen. ,

The clothes which Jehonikam had laid aside
on re iring for the night still were lying in a
corner, trampled in a confused mass. One of
the men, named Alfred Adams, raised them in
in his hand, and was fproceeding to search them
for any indications o robbery, when something
fell to the ﬂoor.

“ Hero is the tool with which the cursed deed
was performed," saiﬂ Adams, raising a long,
bloody knife, and holding it up to the view of
the others. “ This will give us a clew.”

“Seems to me I’ve sae’d that ’ere knife afore,”
remarked William Rufus, casting a sly glance
at Ralph.

The latter drew near, and as his eyes rested
upon the knife, he gave is surprised exclama-
tion.

“ That is mine!” he said, frankly.

The astonishment of those with him was cer-
tainly intense. They drew near, and for a few
moments azed from the knife to its owner in
mute won er. The weapon was an ordinary
hunting-knife, with buck-horn handle, upon the
end of which were engraved the letters

b “ Sart‘in it’s yours,” said Rufus, with a slight
ow.
“ Did I not tell you that it was my knife?”
“ But how came it here?”
“ I am sure I cannot say,” was the earnest re-
El y “It must have been stolen from my room
y the murderer, if it was used in that foul

deed.”

“ Oh, sart’inl We all believe that!" said
Rufus, somewhat spitefully. “None of he re-
member the uarrel you had with Mr. Andrews
two or three ays ago i” .

There was something so impertinently mali-
cious in the tone of the speaker, that Ralph
started as if stung by a vi er.

“You do not mean to nsinuate that I am
guilty of this dreadful crime?” '

“ I didn’t say nothin’ about it," was returned,
with a grin of triumph, “but if ye want my
opi’uion, I must say that it looks pretty dark for

ye.

 

 

 

 

~9-

Reckless Ralph's Risk. . 8

 

“ And you?” the young man asked, casting a
glance around upon the others. “ You certainly
cannot think me guilty of such a dreadful
crime.”

“ I hate to think it, Ralph," said Adams, who
still held the knife, “ but as Rufus says, it cer~
taiuiy looks quite dark against you."

“ declare, and sweur, with all heaven to
witness, that I know no more of the manner in
which that knife came here than yourself. I
had not touched it for two weeks, and supposed
it lying in my room at my brother’s house."

“ Hadn’t you better try to prove that you and
Andrews was on the best of terms?” Rufus iu-
sinuated. “ I’ve knowed the poor man for a
number 0’ years, and you’s the ﬁrst one I ever
knowed turned out’n his house. I thort ’twan’t
all right when I see’d ye so desput u-tryin’ to
put out the ﬁre. They dew say ‘ Straws show
which way the wind blows,’ sometimes."

The search was continued for some time
longer, the closest scrutiny being given to every
article and no crack or crevice escaping the

. general inspection. But search as they would——

and none could be more anxious than Ralph,
since his very life depended upon the fruits of it
—nothing transpired.

“ You will pardon us for detaining on,” said
Alfred Adams gently, as he took Ra ph by the
arm. “ I really trust that you are not guilty.”

“ I know,” said Ralph, with a swelling breast,
“ you have the right to detain me as a prisoner,
and I can not resist. I only swear to you that
I am innocent, and I trust to prove that inno-
cence fully.”

“ Hope you will—hope you will i” was the
really ind reply.

Then holding the bloody knife in his hand
Adams made his way toward the body of An-
drews. His grasp rested upon one arm of
Ralph, and a companion held the other. Rufus,
who had an intolerant prejudice against the

risoner, though without an cause, had dived
into the crowd, and was usily engaged in
spreadin the story of Ralph’s guilt.

“See ere, men,” he said, mounting a block
of wood that he might be more conspicuous,
“ we all know that feller’s the guilty one. You
know what we said when the thing was ﬁrst
done-how we’d punish anybody that had cut up
so; now don't e’s be respecters of persons.
Thor’s plenty of trees hyarabouts—why dont
we string him up? We know he’s the one !”

“Yes—string him up! String him up!” re-
sponded various voices in chorus. “ We’ll set
an example, if it does come a little tough at
fu’stl"

Ralph began to tremble, as well he might, at
the rapidly increasing violence of the exaspera-
ted settlers. Death. speedy and awful stared
him in the face! He attempted to expostulate
With the multitude, but in vain. His friends,
few in number, also joined in the protest, but
all was of no avail.

The tumult increased momentarily. Torches
were brought in abundance, ropes produced,
and clamorous cries for the prisoner's death re-
sounded more and more ﬁercely.

It was a fearful scene, as revealed by that un-
certain torchlight. The stark, cold body of the
murdered man; the pale and anxious prisoner;

 

the agitated and surging mass of angry men,with
pale, distressed and weeping women and child-
ran in the hack-ground, lighted by the ghastly
and ﬂickering torches.

Suddenly a fresh cry was raised, and headed
by the zealous William Rufus, the avengers of
blood dashed toward the young hunter.

CHAPTER III.
THE DOOMED HUNTER.

“COME, sir,” said the over-zealous leader of
the mob, “we are sorry to put ye to any
trouble; but it won’t dew to let ye go loose any
longer. Some of ye jest tie the feller’s hands
abiud his back, so he won‘t be dangerous, and
we’ll hev’ a show here what never was see’d
store in Forest Valley, not by a long run.”

Several men seized the hunter’s arms, and
forced them behind him, where they were
very speedily tied. Then, that their momen-
tary frenzy might not abate, and that good
counsels might not prevail, he was dragged
from the place, out into the margin of the forest,
something like forty rods from the scene of ex-
citement.

“ Here’s a good place,” Rufus exclaimed, as he
came to a stop.

They were beneath a huge oak, which
threw out a. heavy lateral branch, at the hight
of ten or twelve feet. Nature evidently had
saved the infatuated men the trouble of erecting
agallows. '

“Tie his legs, fu’st,” commanded the leader.

The command was obeyed, a strong rops being
bound about the peisoner’s ankles in the seem-est
manner possible.

“Better tie a stone, or a good-sized stick
of wood to his feet, so’t his neck won’t prove
too strong for his body,” suggested a third
speaker.

 

“ Just put on the rope, and swing him up over '

that limb. and I'll warrant ye he’l never stab
another man in the back!”

A sharp hiss ran through the crowd at this
allusion to the most disgusting feature of the
whole affair, and fresh cries were raised—
“String him up!"

One or two of the youn man’s friends ven-
tured to suggest leniency, ut their voices were
drowned in the tumult raised by those who were
anxious for what they deemed to be summary
'ust ce. .

J Ralph was led beneath the fatal noose, and
the rope adjusted to his neck. Thus far he may
have entertained hopes that his doom would
be averted. or least post ned. But now all
hope was ended. He felt t a rough cord passed

around his neck. and drawn to anuncomforty

able tightness. He a tempted to speak, for he
wished to repeat his ent re innocence, but an
angry clamor drowned his words. and a broad

palm was placed over his mouth. Since he could , 4

not speak to his fellow-men, the doomed one
turned his thoughts heavenward, and breathed
a silent prayer for strength to hear the last try-
ing ordeal.

Here his silent lupplicatlons ceased, for four, ,

strong men the rope, and at a. word
from their leader the young hunter’s body was

swung into the air.
Suddenly a yell-f-wild, loud, long and ﬁerce-

I

 

 

 

__.,«,"

 

 

'6 Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

 

broke from the forest near them. The party
about the oak started fearfully at this indica-
tion of others' presence, and endeavored to
pierce the gloomy forest shades. Even while
the gazed and wondered, a burst; of ﬂame
bro 6 from the neighboring covert, a few balls
and many arrows hurtled through the air, and
fell in the midst of the frightened group.

" Indians! Indians!" burst from more than
one ashy lip and several of their number fell be-
fore the deadly volley, killed or wounded.

Of course the advantage was all with the
assailants. 31‘
the strong torchlight around them, and their
foes were in the deepest shade. Besides, scarce
ly a man in the group was armed, none having
deemed weapons necessary for their enterprise,
or having thought of them at all in the terrible
commotion of that night.

As the arrows continued to ﬂy about them,
the party broke and ran, regardless of the sus-
pended Ralph, who came to the ground with a
thump.

No sooner did the settlers show their backs
than the Indians gave another yell, and charged
upon the rearmost of the ﬂying horde. Frantic
with terror the men rushed in every direction,
and not till they were dispersed beyond all pos-
ibility of recall, for some time, at least, did the
savages give over the pursuit.

Then at a signal, they rallied, and returned to
the fatal oak. Those who had fallen and re-
mained there, whether dead or wounded, were
tomakawked and scalped without mercy. after
which the Indians attended to the fallen Ralph.

At length he began to regain consciousness.

The savages hastened to the spot, and bending
over the half-animated form, proceeded to rub
and chafe the limbs much as white men might
have done under the same circumstances.
Ralph felt the warmth and vigor rapidly return-
ing to his body, and in a short time he was enabled
toraise himself to a sitting position. The In—
dians muttered their satisfaction at this change,
and ceased their vigorous efforts.

Ralph wondered why he was spared. By the
very uncertain light he could see that several
of the savages carried scalps at their belts, and
he expected each moment that his own would
be reauired. But, singulary enough, he was
treate with kindness, the party only delaying
its departure, on his account.

Could it be that they intended taking him
along as prisoner? and if so, why? He had
never given the Indians cause of offense, to be
sure; neither had those who were lying about
him in the terrible postures in which they had
been overtaken by death. Then a suspicion stole
over him. He had been rescued from the jaws
of death: might not the Indians calculate upon
his turnin
their mu erous plans? This seemed a natural
conclusion, and although his manly soul shrunk
from the idea, he resolved to take advantage oi’
the desire, if such it should prove, and preserve

‘ his life for the present, even if a temporary so-

ourn among the Indians were required. He
ad a double purpose, now, to effect by living—
to prove his innocence of crime, and to ﬁnd
Nancy Andrews
With something of an effort he staggered to

he whites were brought out full by,

against the whites, and assisting in .

 

n

his feet, and the same tall Indian whom he had
previously observed, extended an arm for his
support. Though burning with curiosity to
know the reason of such apparent friendliness,
Ralph forbore to ask any questions, wisely leav-
ing all to the discretion of the savages.

“ Pale-face go with Injun l” the red-man ﬁnally
grunted out.

“I don’t know," returned Ralph. “What
shall I go with you for?”

“Pale—face want to live," sententiously re-
sponded the savage. “ Him like the young tree
with big, roots. Him live great while. Make
great warrior. But paleface hang him one.
tree. No good fruit for great tree. Make tree
die—make hunter die. White man go with In-
jun. Injun make great man of pale-face. In-
junntell pale-face suﬂin’ when git to his broth-
ers.

“ There’s more than a common share of truth
in what you say,” Ralph replied. “I haven’t
much fear 0’ killin’ the tree. but I don’t Want to
put it in danger, to say nothing of my own
neck. So I conclude it may be best for me to
go with you. What is it that you will tell me
when we get to your tribe?”

“ You walk?” demanded the Indian, paying no

attention to Ralph’s last question.
- As the young man knew there would be no
heed given to the quostion, however often re-
peated, he tried the task of walking, and found
that he succeeded much better than might have
been expected under the circumstances.

“ You walk good,” said the Indian, who
watched the proceeding closely. “ Now we go.”

The Indians seemed highly elated at their suc-
cess, and walked along quite rapidly, apparently
paying little heed to the prisoner, who walked
among them with all the appearance of a free
nfan. But the covert glances which were cast
upon him from time to time, and the impos~
sibility of leaving his place, satisﬁed him that
he was not henceforth to be his own master.

At length they crossed Silver Run, some dis-
tance above Forest Valley, and here he was al-
lowed to drink of the pure waters, and also to
bathe his neck and head. This procedure re-
vived him greatly, and gave the wanted elas-
ticity and vigor to his limbs. He was now
able to keep pace with the savages without any
undue exertion.

It was almost daylight when they crossed
Silver Run, and in a. few minutes after leavin
it the ﬁrst beams of the morning sun appears
upon the tree-tops. The Indians now hastened
their degree of speed, which they could do with
safety, and trave ed several hours before mak-
ing any halt.

They then came to a stand neara bountiful
9 ring which gushed from beneath a large rock.

everal of the men produced dried meat, which
was eagerly devoured by the party. after hav-
ing been divided. Though Ralph felt little in-
clination to eat, he took a small piece of the
meat, drank from the spring, and then seated
himself upon the ground to rest and think
while his captors were satisfying their appe-
tites. He well knew where they were. often
having stopped at that spring to quench his
thirst when upon hunting excursions. But if
that was the most direct course toward the

»

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Reckless Ralph's Risk. '3'_

 

Indian town, he feared that it must be far dis-
taut.

Their repast soon was over, and then, resting
their wearied frames fora brief time, the march
was resumed.

Ralph noticed before leaving the place that
one o the number was left behind, and special
instructions given him.

CHAPTER IV.
THE INDIAN TOWN.

TEE savages pursued a course somewnat totne
west of north and continued to travel at a brisk
rate for two or three hours longer. Ralph had
counted his swarthy companions, and found
their number to be twenty-two, resent with
their leader, whose Indian name Signiﬂed Elk’s
Foot. This, with the one left behind, would
make quite a force, nearly man to man to what
the settlers could raise, after the decimation they
had recently suffered. The advantage in arms
of course lay with the latter, nearly every man
possessing a good riﬂe, and being expert in its
use; while the arms of the Indians consisted in
part of ﬁrelocks, bows and arrows and spears,
with the never-failing knives and tomahawks
for close quarters.

These facts Ralph had noticed, since he felt
that the indignant settlers would not allow the
matter to rest until they had pursued and if pos-
sible wreaked summary vengeance upon the In-
dians. And while none of his sympathies were
with the latter, he certainly ho that they
would esca for the present. 9 had little
doubt that if they were overhauled, and he fell
into the hands of the whites, he would meet an
instant and ignominious death.

His suspicions of pursuit were soon conﬁrmed.
The detonation of a heavily-loaded musket re-
sounded through the forest, and brought every
savage to a stand-still at once. That they were
excited was evident, and yet the natural stoicism
of their race was such that its exhibition was
suppressed. To the young man’s surprise-they
remained standing where they were for some
minutes—minutes which seemed hours to him.

At length the form of'an advancing warrior
was seen dashing through the trees, and in a
minute he was beside them.

“ Pale-faces,” he said, ‘ inting back in the
direction whence they ha come.

“ How many?” demanded Elk’s Foot.

The runner held up one hand, with all the
digits extended, then eld them both up.

‘ So, there's ﬁfteen,” Ralph thought, “ more
than a match for the three and twenty savages,
in a fair ﬁght.” '

True he did once think of joining with his cap-
tors, and making a strong resistance, but he re-
linquished the idea: not even to save his life
would he join with the enemies of his people.

“ What are you going to do?” he demanded of
Elk’s Foot seeing that the individual in question
seemed quite complacent over the news.

“ What warridrs do but ﬁght?” was the sen-
tentious rejoinder, in the calmest of tones.

The march was again taken up, in single ﬁle,
and continued until the natives reached a swampy
creek, which was bordered hy/a dense willow

 

copse. A narrow passageway extended several
yards across a marshy plut, lined all the way by
impenetrable masses of willows. Through this
they passed. and kept on for some distance, then
turned upon their course, and entered the thick-
est of the willows, where in a short time every
one was eﬂectually screened from sight.

Only Ralph and a single attendant were di-
rected to pursue the route toward the Indian
country with all possible dispatch. '

For a short distance Ralph endeavored to draw
his swarthy companion into conversation, but
that personage was remarkahl reserved. He
realized very well that he he been intrusted
with an important mission, and he would not
allow his charge toesca ehim by any stratage .
The prisoner understo the motives and fee ings
of his conductor, and he resolved to play upon
them, in case any sounds of conﬂict were heard
behind them. .

They had not passed more than half a mile in
this manner, when a yell and volley burst upon
their cars. Both paused, as if by mutual con-
sent. But though they listened intently, neither
of them was able to decide how the battle was
going. A confused ﬁring and shouting reached
their ears, but nothing beyond that. Whether
the cries proceeded from whites or Indians was
a mystery. .

Presen ly a single savage appeared dashin
wildly through the forest. The ﬁrst glim see
him convinced Ralph that the settlers ha been
victorious, and that the Indians were ﬂeeing for
life. To his surprise, the guard who had cha e
of him stood quiet, awaiting the-coming of
ﬂeeigg brave, though the latter made desperate
sign 3 for them to push on.

‘ Why don’t you run?” demanded‘ Ralph. -
“ Your people are defeated. I am gomg," he
added, seeing the fellow did not stir.

“ Me shoot l” exclaimed the snag;

“ Shoot mel You daren’t doit. ou’d beth
lose your head i” returned Ralph, confidently.

The savage looked surprised. then turned rs-
luctantly from the spot, and started into a care-
less run. A race began which it was no easy
matter to stop, since he had no authority to
shoot the hunter and to put hand upon him was
utterly out of t e usstion. The Indian was
hugely perplexed. e made every demonstra-
tion which he felt could inﬂuence the white to ’
stop, all of which delayed his own progress, and
produced no eﬂ’ect u n the runner.

Having led the In lens a race of two or three
miles, and demonstrated his abilityeo distance
them upon equal ground, Ralph ﬁnally slack-
ened his pace, and allowed them to gain his
side. He reasoned that if the Indians were de-
feated, of which there was no doubt. the settlers
would give over the pursuit, u n ﬁnding that
he was not with them. But if he pursuit should
be continued, the vantage-ground he had al- .
roundly gained would be sumclent—he could easily
ev e t em. . ,

Selecting a spot which commanded atolerab
wide view through the forest, the Indians pan , ,
and awaited the reassembling of their forces.
One after another ﬁve or six came ln—smong
them Elk’s Foot. the chief of the part . ,

Ralph endeavored to draw from It‘s Foot '
some of the particulars in regard to the ﬁght, ,

Mus-gm

 

 

  

 

’ and ﬂed for dear life.

' may.
,jouFeeling thirsgyé Ralph

e Reckleas Ralph’s ﬁnk.

 

and althou h that persona. e was somewhat re—
mlvsed, he nally succeeds in gaining the do-
It seemed that the -whites had sent a single
man forward to spy the land in advance of
them, and hunt for the Indian trail wherever
it might seem doubtful. The scout had noticed
the willows, and at once suspected an ambus-
cade. Making a circuit to the rear of the posi-
tion, he saw the scalp‘lock ,of a brave waving
above the bushes. ’lo send a bullet through the
betrayed head was his ﬁrst act, and one which
gave the signal for a general ﬁght. The Indians
poured in a ﬁre upon such of their foes as were
within sight, but without much eﬂect. They
rose in as it was given and received a wither.
lug v0 ley from the whites. As the latter took
to treesor threw themselves upon the ground,
they presented no certain aim for the Indians,
whose willow thicket was little rotection
against the powerful riﬂes of their oes. Ina
very few minutes the savages were so decimated
that they simultaneous] abandoned the conﬂict,
be little band which was
now pushing through the wilderness showed how

xfatal the battle had been.

Near sunset the party halted, built a ﬁre,
ate such food as they had with them, set a
igatlch, and threw themselves upon the ground

5 eep.

It seemedto Ralph that he had but just begun
to doze when he was awakened by a rough hand
upipin his shoulder, and the voice of Elk’s Foot
sa :

“ Come, pale-face. We go on now."

Rousing himself he saw that the party was
already prepared for a start. The wounded Iu-
dians had come 11 , and were replenishing the
ﬁre, as they inten ed to stay there during the
n h

our after hour they traveled, through the
long night, till morning began to ﬂush the east.
Though they had not hastened. the progress of
the party had been steady and uninterrupted.
Consequently they must have put many miles
between them and Forest Va ley, during the
twenty-four hours of almost constant travel.
Ralph did not think the total could be much
less than ﬁfty miles, probably not much more

- than that.
With the ﬁrst dawning of light the party

threw themselves upon the ground, and were
anon sleepin soundly; for, though hungry as
well as tire , they had no food, and appetite
could be best subdued bi sleep.

Ralph ﬂasawakened ysome uncomfortable
dream, and u on looking up saw that the hot

,sun was shin ng full in his face. He would

have soughta more comfortable podtion and
resumed his siumbers, of which he felt the need
sorely, but saw that the Indians were already
astir, and making preparations to resume their

roceeded toward the

ring, near w h the I}: ians had bivouacked.

I was surrounded bya dense bushy covert,

which it was necessary to penetrate in order to
reach the water.

The hunter was pushing them aside, when he

that deadly note of warning—a sharp

rattie_accompanied. bya hiss! Knowing that

 

he had disturbed the repose of a deadly serpent,
Ralph sought to retreat, but only made matters
worse. His foot came in contact with the
loathsome creature, and the next moment he
felt the sharp fangs buried in his leg!‘

With a horriﬁed cry he sprung back, the sav—
ages who were nearest him givin vent to
louder and more distressing yells. he rattle—
snake still clun to the wound, whipping the
earth with his tail and continuing the frightful
rattles.

The savages‘seemed petriﬁed with fear, all
save Elk’s Foot, who uickly sprung to the res-
cue of his charge. ithasingle blow of his
knife he severed the serpent’s head, and both
portions of the creature fell to the ground. He
then uttered quick directions to one or two of
his braves, who darted away into the forest,
running keen glances along the ground as they

went.

Elk's Foot then set himself at work upon the
punctures. His promptness, coolness and skill
certainly saved the young man’s life. Placing
Ralph upon his- back the Indian stripped all
clot ing from over the wound, which resented
only the most simple appearance. ith his
keen knife he proceeded to make incisions hits
to the bone where the serpent’s fangs ha en-
tered. The blood scarcely ﬂowed at all, but
the Indian applied his lips and sucked away
vigorously for several minutes.

‘That good,” he muttered, between breaths.

“ Me git him all right perty soon. Bite no bad

if Injun know how to ﬁx him. Elk’s Foot

ﬁreat’medicine—keep his brother pale-face from
urt.

There was somethin really tender in the red-
skin’s manner but was so wrapped up in
guiie and artifice that Ralph knew not what to
make of it. Of one thing he was ver certain—
the savage was not thus careful of h without
some special object in view.

An extem rized bandage of reen leaves was
then woun about the injur member, and
Ralph placed upon his feet.

Although somewhat lamed by the bite and its
summary treatment, the young man found that
he still could walk uite comfortably, nor did he
feel any effects of t e oison in his system.

A journey of two h are more brought them to
a considerable elevation of ground, and from
the tug of this the Indian settlement was discov-
ered t rough the trees. It was situated upon
the banks of a-small stream, in a healthful and
pleasant position. There was an air of neatness
and reﬁnement about the place which Ralph had
not looked for, and which was certainly unusual
in an indian settlement.

Squaws and pappooses ﬂocked forth to meet
the returning warriors, but the ﬁrst ardent joy
they experienced was checked by the tidings
which reached their ears. Of those who had so
lately gone forth, only the little handful before
them had returned. Ralph fancied that many
a vengeful glance was cast toward him as the
]women retreated, tearing their hair and wailing
on y .

The party halted in the midst of the village,
food was brought out, and readily disposed of.
When Ralph had eaten his ﬁll, Elk’s Foot con-

ducted him to a small cabin, built with some-

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Reckless Ralph's Risk. 9

 

thing of elegance, and opening the door, signiﬁed
that the white was to enter.

The latter could not choose but obey, and
when he had crossed the threshold the door was
closed and fastened behind him. Truly, he was
a prisoner! '

Discovering a couch of skins in one corner of
the apartment, the desire for rest overcame all
other feelings, and he was soon sleeping soundly.

CHAPTER V.
A PRINCEss’s woome.

RALPH slept several hours, the sun being low
in the west when he awoke. For a moment he
felt really alarmed. His mouth was dry and
parched, a dull pain had settled in his head, and
the wounded limb felt sore and stiff. He raised
himself to a sitting posture, then stepped upon
the ﬂoor, and moved to a narrow opening which
served something of the purpose of a window.
These movements convinced him that he was not
seriously ill.

Moving hack to the couch he sat down, and
gave himself up to reﬂection. All was silent
within the cabin, around and without. Still no
solution to the mystery of his present osition.
Several times he rose, walked back an forth a
few times, and then sat down again. The idea
of passing another night in suspense was far
from agreeable.

Just as he was gettin nervous over the loneli-
ness of his situation he eard some one unfasten—
ing the door, and Elk’s Foot stood in his presence.
He bore a wooden slab, tolerably well laden with
edibles, which be deposited upon ablock of wood
in the cabin.

“ Elk’s Foot I want to know why I’m here?”
Ralph demanded, without any ceremony.

The Indian pointed to the food he had brought
and indicated, with a grunt, that that was to be
considered ﬁrst.

“ I am not hungry,” Ra] h said. “I can’t
3:3; ainiy’thing till I know wha the meaning or all

is s

“ Try ’um,” returned Elk‘s Foot. “ Hungry
brave eat—do him good. Make him talk wise
words in council when him stomach feel good.”

Ralph was vexed at this, but he knew the
Indian nature too well to entertain any hopes
of dissuadin the other. Besides there was
somethin o a promise implied to talk in
council w an the food should have been disposed
of. Comforting himself with this idea,the young
man rapidly devoured the odibles, which were
well prepared and sensed by hunger. This done
he turned anxiously to the young Indian. The
latter had remained watching him intently.

“ Now me talk," he said, seating himself upon
the ground.

The Indian gazed earnestly upon the white
man for some moments. Then he commenced,
and in his peculiar manner unfolded the designs

which had so puzzled the listener.

Divesting the narrative of that crippled and
sententious style eculiar to the North American
Indian, and the o t-repeated boasts which graced
it, the narrative was as follows:

His tribe was powerful. Its warriors were
counted by hundreds, and its towns were nu-
merous. His father, who was old and near' the
grave, ruled this grant tube, which upon his

death would be equally divided between the two
children, Elk’s Foot and Sleeping Fawn. The
latter was a maiden of great beauty, highly cul-
tivated, and vemed in all the agreeable Indian
arts. To see her was to love her. From far and
near distinguished lovers crowded to see]: her
smiles and love, but she had none to give them.
She had seen a noble white hunter, and her
heart had gone forth to him. For many moons
she had striven to conquer that love which
burned within her, but all in vain. She mourn-
ed daily, growing thinner and more like the
evening shadows,‘untii her brother had been in-
duced to question her in regard to her secret.

At ﬁrst she had refused to divulge the cause
of her sorrow, but after Elk’s Foot had sworn
that any wish she might express should be grant-
ed, Sleeping Fawn had confessed her love for
the fair young hunter of the pale—faces. Since
nothing could dissuade her,’ and the brother’s
word ad been pledged, he took ahandful of
warriors, and set off to seek the yeah man.
His arrival had been most opportune. had
saved the life of the very man his sister-loved,
and brought him to her unharmed.

For some moments after this recital 

ended Ralph sat like one in a vision. The ve
idea of an Indian princess falling in love wit
and causing him to be kidnapped was almost
incredible. But he did not doubt the story at
all. Everything which he had witnessod thus
far (agar-med the strange story his captcr had
re a .

“ I know on saved my life,” returned Ralph.
who felt em arrassed by the position 1n which
he was thus involuntarily placed. “ I feel
thankful to you for it, and Will always be Kat
friend. But, really, I’m afraid that I shall v.
to disappoint your sister. 1—” ’ ~ v

He would have said that his heart was ir-
revocably given away, but at that moment the
uncertain fate of Nancy Andrews recurred to
his memory, and be checked the utterance.

“ bite man must be careful,” said Elk?‘
Foot, with native dignity. " Me have saved him
one—two times, but me can’t do it any more.
Elk’s Foot does not rule the tribe.”

It did not require any comment to satisfy
Ralph as towhat was meant in the words he
had just heard. If he chose to marry the Indian
princess. and become her slave and the servant.
of her ple, he would no. doubt beallowed to
do so. at if he chose to dissent, and refuse all
idea of such a union, the stern old chief Welt-
Slayer would not allow his daughter‘s feelings
to be outraged with im unity. . 

Neither feature of t 6 case presented loomed

satisfactoryto the young hunter. He had no 5

intention of wedding an Indian maiden nor had
be any desire to be hurried out-of the world
while a crime dishonored his name among his
fellowaettlers. To be certain that there was no
IFnistiake, he put the question direct to Elk’s

00 l

“ You mean that if I don't marry your sister,
I shall be killed by your pie?”

“ Sleeping Fawn mu say ” was the undo-
cided reply. “ She have '1
doncall say.”

 

“ You mean that]; am Mr  
yours?" ' -

pas-face now—mo "'

 

 

 

 

 

 

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. all probability.

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10 Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

 

‘CUgh I”
“And do you think she would kill me if I

' refuse to wed her?"

“ Better not try ’um. Sleeping Fawn is proud
-she could not live in scorn. Pale—face marry
her, and be chief of the great people.”

There was silence for some moments, when
Elk’s Foot rose to his feet.

“ Now me go,” he said. “ You sleep good to-
night, and in the morning me see you ag’in.
Bleeping Fawn see you, too. ’

“ erhaps she will, and perhaps not,” mused
Ralph, as the door closed upon im. “ I ma
lconclude not to put up at this place muc

on er.

or a moment be real] entertained thoughts

‘ of trying to escape during the nightﬁmt upon

second thought be abandoned them. is limbs
were stiﬂ and swollen, he had no food, or the
means of procuring it' and even if he should
succeed in leaving the place, it would be next to
impossible for him to make any progress in his
crippled state. If overhauled and brought
back, it might fare worse with him than if he
remained. Besides, where would he go? A re-
turn to Forest Valley would insure his death, in
To attempt any longer jour-
ney would be simply madness.

Darkness had Settled over the face of earth
some time previously, and after peering out into
the gloom for awhile, Ralph threw himself
upon the really comfortable couch, and mused
upo'ndshis strange situation till sleep visited his
eyei

During the night he waked frequently, but
his exhausted frame re nired more rest, and he
as often rela into s umber again. Finally
morning lig t began to throw the wall of his
apartment into relief, and then he rose from the
couch.

. He was pleased to ﬁnd that much of the lame-

‘ness and pain of the evening previous had been

allayed by the sound sleep which he had expe-
rienced, and after pacing up and down the

,apartment for some minutes he be an to feel a
. longing for freedom.

He even elt that he
could distance any of his pursuers in a dead
race through the forest.
But it would be more than difﬁcult for him to
t outside the but which contained him, since
it could hardly have been stronger it built for a
prison. The only outlet through which a man
could pass was the door, and that was effectu-
ally fastened upon the outside.
a While he was engaged in pacing back and
forth, reﬂecting, or endeavoring to reﬂect upon

'the strange situation in which he was placed,

the tastenings of the door were removed, and
mm; Foot stepped into the room, bearing a
quantity of food.
\ Ralph’s ﬁrst impression was to throw, himself
upon the Indian as he opened the door, and
burst forth; but the ver thought of it was so
unreasonable that he re rained, and welcomed
the savage heir to a half tribe with something
like a. smile. The Indian noticed this, and a
low of unmistakable pleasure mantled his
eatures. Placing the food upon the block, as
he had, done previously, the savage pointed
towardit, saying;

 

“Eat. Me come back pretty soon with
Sleeping Fawn."
As he thus spoke the uncivilized matchmaker

retreated, and the sound of his footsteps soon _

died away along the street.

The fact that he was to be visited by the
damsel whose aﬂections he had so unwittingly
captivated, did not tend to restore Ralph‘s,
equanimity. But, as there was no assistance,
he concluded to act the wiser part, and attacked
the viauds with commendable zeal.

His appetite was satisﬁed, and nearly an hour
had passed without brin ing the expected vis-
itors. How to meet t em was a. question
which he could not contemplate with satisfac-
tion. Of one thing he felt sure. Time must be
gained, if possible.

At length footste s sounded without, and
non-ed the door. is heart beat somewhat
irregularly at the thought of the trial at hand.
But, nerving himself with an eﬂlort, he awaited
their coming.

Elk’s Foot entered ﬁrst, and when he was

within the apartment a female ﬁgure glided in.

For some moments the parties stood regarding
each other in silence. Then Sleeping Fawn
whispered to her brother in the language of the
tribe, which was entirely strange to Ralph.

Had the young man neVer met with Nancy
Andrews, or even had he been less firm in his
moral convictions, it is quite ossible that the
Indian maiden’s enterprise mi t not have been
in vain. Candidly it appear to him that he
never had seen a form more lovely than the one
which now stood before him. Her features were
regular and faultlesst beautiful, while the
sparkle of intelligence and love gleamed in her
deep hazel eyes.

To be the object of such passionate aﬂEection
from such a source might well have turned the
brain of a man whose years had been spent in
the wild freedom of the forest; more especially
when li‘: was considered that she was a rincess
in her own right. But Ralph had ta en his
stand. and his studied reserve must have been

lainly apparent to the lovely Sleeping Fawn.

he gazed ﬁxedly at him for a moment, then
her eyes drooped with an expression of sadness
quite touching.

“Sleeping Fawn would wed the pale-face,”
said her brother, brieﬂy. “ She has come for
his answer.”

This'was certainly gutting the uestion blunt-
lv—a triﬂe more so t an Ral h ad expected.
For a moment he hesitated ho to reply.

“_ What if I will, and what if I don‘t choose
to?” he ﬁnally asked, hoping to learn more posi-
tiVely‘of their intentions.

“ If he will, we love him, and pale-face rule
over my people,” said Sleeping Fawn, who spoke
English with a urer intonation than her broth-
er. “ He shall 0 a great man in the councils of
the Indian. Everybody love him, and braves
delight to go on war-path with him.”

3

“That is if I will,’ aid Ralph. “Now what
if I do not wish to?”
The maiden gazed a moment. Her reason

told her Very plainly that he did not wish any
thing of the kind, but love was still strong in
her bosom.

“ It be will not," she said. anally, “ me WP

\

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Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

“11

 

The tone in which she spoke left no room for
doubt. She had loved violently, and no ains
had been spared to gain possession of her ove’s
object. If that love was scorned, it would be
but natural that she should hate as intently, and
in that case the young man realized how pre-
carious his position must be.

“ You Will 've me time—till to—night, at
least to think 0 this?” he said.

Almost contrary to his expectations the broth-
er and sister retired, leaving him alone to pon-
der over the unenviable situation.

CHAPTER VI.
LOVE AND HATE.

For. some time Ralph Riley satupon the couch
of skins. and pondered. Perha s be had only
made matters worse by delay. by did he not
ask for longer grace, to consider the math r and
plan for escape? Possibly he might, even now,
gain time till the following morning, and during
the night somapossibility might present for et-
ting free. He had hoped that more fr om
would be granted him during the day, but the
parting words of Elk’s Foot had satisﬁed him
that such would not be the case.

It was near noon, perhaps a little past, when
that rcdoubtable warrior reappeared, bearin
more food, and disposed for further “talk ’
with Ralph. Hoping to learn more of the sav-
age’s intentions toward him, the young man
readily seated himself and a parley of consider-
able length ensued. Its results were far from
satisfactory.

The Indian could harp upon but one theme—
gratitude for the favor he had rendered the
white man. Surely that should be sufﬁcient
reason for the latter marrying his sister. In
vain Ralph urged that he had not been grant<
ed time to study the character and di osition
of the lady he was expected to wed. A! his ar-

ments were turned aside by the shrewd In-

ian, however often repeated.

The conference broke up at length, and Elk’s
Foot took his departure. neither feeling more
satisﬁed for the talk. Ralph began really to
feel alarmed. Not even when in the hands of
the mob had he felt himself in that danger
which was about him now. It was sufﬁcient
that he was in the hands of the untutored, ca-
pricious savages, and that the choice had been

resented him between living, ora speedy death.
twas hard for him to die, thus in his early
manhood—es chilly—hard to leave behind a
name to wh ch the foulest of human crimes
clung! But. it seemed preferable to dishonor.
Nay, he reﬂected until it really seemed that
’twerc easy to die, with a pure conscience.

Through the long afternoon such thoughts as
these ﬁlled his mind, and when the lengthened
shades of evening came, they found him firm.
If he could not obtain further time he would
boldly declare against the desired marriage, and
brave the issues!

Even sooner than he expected. the party came.
Elk’s Foot led the way, as before, followed by
Sleeping Fawn. The rear was brought up by a
tall savage of digniﬁed mien, though far ad-
vanced in life, wrinkled and scarred. This
Ralph at once concluded to be Wolf-Sis er,
the mighty chiot ot the powerful tribe. he

 

 

trio advanced to the midst of the cabin, Elk’s
Foot closing and fastening the door behind
them. '

“The pale-face is a great warrior, and is
wise!” began Sleeping Fawn. “His heart has
learned wisdom. He will rule over the half
ﬁt the great tribe of which the WolfvSlayer is

ing!‘ _

She indicated the tall savage beside her, who
gruuted as his name was mentioned.

“The Sleeping Fawn has said ell," the old
chief responded. “But she is wea . She does
not love her own people, but begs a pale-face to
rule her tribe. t is well. The pale-face can
not refuse, for her heart is set upon him."

There was a grunt from each of the threeE
and from their manner Ralph inferred that
they awaited his reply. He still had some hopes
of gaining time, and t was with this purpose be
commenced: ‘

“ I have not seen the eople belonging to the
Wolf-Sla cr’s tribe. I 0 not know much of the
Sleeping awn. I have not learned to love her.
It requires time for a white man to learn such
things, and he must see the maiden of his choice
often, and in her daily works.”

The savages listened patiently, for they would
not interrupt him, but when he had ceased
speaking the chief replied:

“Who loves'the Wolf—Slayer’s daughter? Is
it not enough that she loves the pale-face, and
has saved iis life? Let him marry her soon,
and learn love in the long summer moons?"

“But, that is not the custom of my peeple,”
returned Ra] h: “I couldnot do so. I must
learn to love rst—then I may marry.”

“ The pale—face is to be pale-face no more,” re-
torted the head chief, speakin almost perfect
En lish, and using very dec ded movements.
“ e must be Injun—or nothing.”

“But I cannot change in a moment,” persisted
Ralph. “I must have time. You cannot deny
me that, surely?”

The chief uttered a grunt of impatience.

“'Ihe pale-face talk well,” he said—“make
great man among the ,Injuns. Wolf-Slayer
want him for soon. Can have him. Sleeping .
Fawn is impatient—she would know.”

“ When will the marriage take place?” m

“Now. Another sun must see him the hue-
band of Sleeping Fawn i”

“No, not so soon as that,” said Ralph, de-
cidedly.

“ Must be.”

“It shall not be—I will not be married thus
hastily!” the fearless hunter declared.

“To-night or never the pale-face must wed
Sleeping Fawn f” declared the chief. .

“ hen it shall benwer I” was the unequivocal.
answer.

The trio of savage seemed somewhat startled
at this bold declaration, and the disappointed
maiden uttered a low cry, as of despair. Rs e
and mortiﬂcation appeared to blend in the v 5-
ages of the men. For some moments not a per-
son in the cabin moved—the three Indians gas-
ing upon the daring white who had scorned
their greatest boon, and he as steadily returning
their axe. \

S_u denly the Indian maiden drew- a sharp
knife from its place 01 concealment. and WM a

 

 

 

 

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12 Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

 

cry of rage threw herself upon Ralph endeavor-
in to plunge the weapon into his body.

lthough the act was unlocked for, the young
man was not taken entirely at a disadvantage.
He had more than halfdexpected such an onset
from the father or brother, and was only sur-
prised that the daughter should seek her own
revenge. -

Grasping the hand which held the weapon, he
Eave way as she came on, and very soon had the

nlfe in his own hand. The maiden turned

away with a sob, realizing that she was in no
danger from the man whose life she had
sought.

For a moment it seemed that the control of the
lace was to change hands. Ralph had the
nife, and with it in hand he rushed toward the

door. But Elk’s Foot uttered a loud, cry, and
remained stationary, as did his father and
sister.

Ralph succeeded in opening the door, but here
be was confronted by a couple of Indians,
armed with guns. They quickly covered his
person with their pieces, and ordinary prudence
induced him to retreat. Seeing that any offen-
sive act must certainly c »st his life, he hurled
the knife through one of the openings, and with
folded arms awaited the action of his savage
guards. That they were his foes n)w could not
be doubted. But it was possible that they might
temporize for a while, and there his only hope

rested.

Elk‘s Foot stepped to the door, and called one
of the Indians inside, giving him orders to watch
Ralph closely, and shoot him at the ﬁrst move-
ment. Hearing the substance of this charge,
the youn man seated himself upon the couch of
skins, w ile the sentinel cocked and pointed
his1 n, in readiness to obey the order most lit-
era y.

Sunset came, fading away into twilight, and
that in turn intodarkness. Still they remained
undisturbed in the cabin. No supper had been
broughtto Ralph. but he was not especially in
need of it, and ﬁnally settled back upon the
couch, not to sleep but to think and plot.

Silentl the hours passed, and midnight was
near at a id. The sentry had drawn the block
at wood beside the couch whereon his charge
slept—as he supposed—and sat upon it. half-
dozing. The prisoner was fully aware of this,
for although the darkness was nearly impene-
trable, he exerted every sense to the utmost.
Gradually, inch by inch, fraction by fraction,
the reclining form was drawing nearer, noting
every movement of the sentinel. and waiting for
an opportunity to spring upon him for a death-
strug 10. If the young man’s life was to end
soon, t might as well be in a struggle with the
Indian before him as in any more hideous man-
ner.

To sit and watch a motionless ﬁgure, hour in
and hour out. with no motion or sound to stir
the mind of the watcher, is one of the sever-
est forms of the severe task. Thus it was
tha though the Indian struggled strongly with
the rowsiuess which visited is lids, they would
close, almost in spite of ’him. Momentarlly the
feeling ined ground, and just at the time
when ph ceased his motions, and began to

‘ . WM tor indications 01 toii'iporary forgetful

/

ness upon the part of his guard, the latter’s
grasp upon his gun relaxod, and the barrel slip-
ped from his ﬁn ers. Quickly be grasped for
it, but another and had been quicker, and
already the weapon was in the possession of
Ralph.

As one sprung to his feet, the other did the
same. Ralph swung the gun through the air,
and endeavored to strike the Indian, but the
latter rushed forward and grappled the white
around the body, feeling confusedly for his
knife. The musket fell upon the ﬂoor, the stock
being broken from the barrel by the concussion.
Then commenced a desperate struggle for the
savages‘s knife, the only weapon in the cabin.

In such a. conﬂict few men could stand a ainst
Ralph Riley, and though ﬁghting for 1i e, the
Indian was not one of thosa few. Gradually his
bracing position was lost, his limbs touched the
block, and the struggle was ended. He had not
even time to utter the cry which trembled upon
his lips, ere Ralph had caught him by the
throat, and both came to the ground, the white
uppermost.

That iron grip was not relaxed till all strug-
gles and tremors on the Indiau’s part cease ,
and then but slowly, and Ralph feared decep-
tion. He need have entertained no doubts.
No human being could have lived without
breathing for that length of time. Satisﬁed
that all was over, the victor unbuckled his ad-
versary’s belt, and strapped it about himself, re-
taining his knife. Then he felt of the musket, but
it was broken beyond all repair. 'W hat should
he do next?

But one plan seemed to give any romise—
that was, to dig out, beneath the foun ations of
the cabin. The structure had no ﬂoor but the
snioothly-trodden ground, and rested upon four
beams of timber placed prone upon the earth.

Though the operation of tunneling out would
require some time, it seemed the only mode
practicable, and Ral h set about it without any
unnecsssary delay. y dint of continued ex-
ertion, he soon created an opening sumciently'
large to admit of his passage to the outer
world: though in so doing he comﬁletely ruined
the knife, the only weapon, as we as the only
tool he could procure.

This done, be satisﬁed himself that the way
was clear without, before venturing from the
cabin. No one seemed stirring—a universal
quiet reigned over the village. A light drizzling
rain was setting in, whiclhwas certainly in his
favor, as he had no ﬁrearms to suffer from the
dampness, and even Indians would be less likely
to rowl about upon such a night.

fter passing through a rtion of the village,
he struck off into the track ass forest. Morning
could not be far distant, and until that time he
would trust to chance and his natural skill as a
hunter. Filled with hope, and buoyed up by
the natural vigor of his spirits. Ralph pushed
on, regardless of the many obstacles in his way.

CHAPTER VII.
A MAN-HUNT.

Tim terrible excitement in Forest Valley had
given lace to mournilng. Nearly one-fourth of
the ab e-bodied man b passed from earth dur-
ing that night of terror. In the years that had

 

 

 

 

 

 

" :1;
new“

 

 

Reckless Ralph’s Risk. 18

 

transpired since the founding of the settlement,
only one death, that of a child, had taken place.
It willbe easy to imagine the dismay caused by
such] a wholesale ﬂlling~up of the little grave-
yan .

The fallen ones had been consigned to their
last test, and the mourners had returned to their
homes. A terrible pall .broodcd over the pleas-
ant village. Young and old moved about with
subdued tread, and only spoke in the saddest of
voices concerning the great tragedy which had
been enacted in their midst. The prosperous
life of Forest Valley had been suddenly changed
in Its tone, and even some .of the more timid be-
gan to thlnk Seriously of abandoning the work
of years and returning again to the more popu-
lous regions.

It was night—a 'week later than that fearful
night on which they had awakened to such a
multiplicity of horrors. The family of Stephen
Riley—Ralph’s brother, with whom he had re-
sided—was sleeping soundly.

Suddenly, in the dead of night, Riley and his
wife heard a gentle rapping upon the window of
their apartment.

“ Who‘s there?” was the abrupt demand.

“ Ask no questions, but let me in," saida voice
which they at once recognized.

“ Ralph has come—he is alive I” said both, in
glad tones. .

Stephen sprung to the door, and opened with-
out any ceremony. Ralph entered, and barely

asped the hand extended to him before sinking
into a chair.

“ I am very tired, Stephen.” he said. “ I have
scarcely eaten anything in three days. Cannot
you give me a cold bite—anything to stay the
pangs of hunger for a time?”

“ Certainly, my brother.” returned Stephen,
warmly. “Even if I believed you guilty of the
crime which stands charged to you, I should not
refuse you food and shelter.”

R; A: God is my witness, I am not guilty i” said
p .

“ 1 know it—I believe it,” was the earnest re~
spouse. “Come this way, and we will soon pro-
vide for your needs.”

He led the way into an adjoining room, which
was used as a kitchen, and placed before the
needy one an abundance of food. The latter ad-
dressed himself to the viands for some time, to
the exclusion of all Conversation, but ﬁnally he
gazed up at his brother, and asked:

“ Has anything been learned yet regarding the
murder, or the whereabouts of Nancy An-
drews’l’

Ste hen shook his head.

“ othing has trans ired to throw the least
light upon the uﬂlair. E course the coming of
the Indians was all attributed to you, and many
impossible stories have been told and gained
ground, till the most of ople really believe
anything no matter how a mini.”

lAnd they all think me gudty ?”

“ Very nearly. Those who were opposed to
our being hung at once, only wished to wait for
aylight and additional proofs—scarcely a man

beyond this house but believes that you murder-
ed Jehonlkam Andrews. Some of the women
p fess to think you innocent, or rather that you

y did it in self-defense, but they do not speak

 

of it very freely. You always were a favorite
among the ladies, Ralph."

“ But what connection do they suppose I could
have had with savages?” .

” The story most generally believed, with
many modiﬁcations and variations, is that you
enticed Nancy from her house, or forcibly ab-
ducted her, and placed her in charge of the In-
dians, who were to take care of her, and to res«
one you if there was any danger. They pro-
fessed to think that you had gone to the Indian
country with your bride, whether married or
not, and that we never should see you again.”

“ Not so far from right as might hays been i”
laughed the outcast.

“ May I ask where on have been?” said Ste-
phen, who was somew at perplexed by his bro-
ther’s manner. “ I trust you are not afraid to
confide in me.”

Just then Stephen’s wife. who had risen and
dressed hastily, entered the apartment. She ad-
vanced to Ralph and greeted him warmly, show-
ing beyond any doubt that she did not think him
guilty, whatever others might do.

“Where have you been, Ralph, durin all this
dreadful week w ich has passed?” she 39. d.

“ Just what he was about to tell,” returned
her husband. “ Sit down, Kate, and we will
listen, for I know my brother too well to think
for a moment that he would tell anything but
the truth.”

“Thank you for the good opinion,” remark-
ed Ralph. “ I have no reason to tell you any-
thing elso. 1 am innocant of any crime.”

He then gaVe them a concise but clear ac-
count of all that had happened, from the time
he had lost or rather regained consciousness af-
ter the attempt at hanging till he regained his
freedom, and started upon the return toward

ome. >

“I knew no other course to take,” he said. in
conclusion. “ Ifelt that possibly Nancy had been
discovered, dead or alive. In any case it seemed
tome that revelations must have taken place
during the time I had been absent. But if I
found that the crime still attached to me, I could
get my riﬂe and pistols. and then. take to the
woods. I could lie in wait there till somethin ,
should happen to prove my innocence-402' t
will be proved sooner or later, though I may not
live to see the day.

” When morning came I found that I had
wandered to some place unknown to me. In
which direction I had been traveling was a 5
mystery. I neither knew which we the Indian
Villa a lay, nor how far I might be rom it. Still
I cou d shape my course by the sun, and the idea
of freedom glove me strength to travel with my
usual speed. walked till exhausted.and sat down
to rest—I was hungry, but could find 310 food,
nor had I any means of killing the Wild game
which I saw occasionally. But Idid not mind
this. My good luck would scarcely let me starve
to death, and the pangs of hunger were much
more tolerable than roasting at an Indian ﬁre.

“ Presently I began to fear pursuit. _Why I
scarcely knew. There was a tolerable eminence
before me, and gaining the top of it I found that
I had command of the country far as the ey:
could reach through the forest. I_ had not In ,
in this position more than ﬁve minutes when]

 

  

14'

 

Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

 

saw the form of an Indian, through the woods.
Others appeared behind him, and I knew they
were in pursuit of me.

“ As I had no means of ﬁghting them, my only
safety lay in ﬂight. I calculated that they were
eighty rods distant, and this gave me a to]-
erable start. In ordinary times I would not
have asked for this advantage, but I had found
that my bitten leg was not entirely sound, and
I knew not how seriously it might trouble me in
a long race.

“For two miles I ran vigorously, and up to
this time the Indians had not caught sight of me,
though they had my fresh tracks to guide them.
At this time I came to a long, level stretch of

, land, upon which the trees, though of great ize,
grew very sparsely. I did not notice this fact
till I had entered upon it, perhaps could not
have avoided it if seen.

“ I had almost gained a roll of ground at the
opposite side, and was straining every nerve to
compass that object, when the Indians caught
a glimpse of me. With ﬁerce shouts and yells
they came on, and althou h I had gained some-
what upon them thus far, saw that they must
eventually run me down. Unless I could hit up-
on some method for throwing them oil! the track
I felt that all was up with me.

“ I did not abate my 3 eed, as that would have

been certainly fatal. y good luck was up er-

, most. At the distance of eighty or a bun red

rods I saw a water—course. If Icould reach that

I felt there was hope for me. Possibly I could

enter the water, and thus divert them from my
track.

“ Exerting every muscle to the utmost, I soon
gained the banks of the stream, and plunged in.

ooking back I saw that none of of the savages
were yet in sight. Turnin up the brook I walk-
ed rapidly, and soon gaine a point where the
banks were high and overgrown with dense
masses of juniper bushes. Under these I found
abundant shelter, the banks in many places be-
ing hollowed out by the action of the water, to
a considerable depth. Gaining one of the water-
built caverns, I waited to notice the action of
the savages.

“ On reaching the water they suspected that I
had not crossed in that place. Probably they
saw my tracks going down. but none coming up
on the other side. here were scarcely a dozen
of them, but it was far from a leasant Sensa-
tion on my part to see them com ng directly up
the stream. I had supposed they would go do um-
ward, but their noses or some other' sense must
have directed them toward me. On they
came, a portion upon either bank of the stream.
I was somewhat relieved, at ﬁnding that they
only looked for my tracks, though could not
sup they would ass the bushes without
gi ng them a thoroug overhauling. But they
seemed to have no idea that Ihad stopped in the
vicinity. They merely examined the borders
of the creek upon a run, glancing all around to
see if I was in sight through the trees.

“After going up some distance above my
hiding— lace they returned galloping and shout-
ing, an soon disap are own the creek. It
was a question w1t me whether to remain
where I was, or continue my way. I might be

 

discovered, in any case, but I felt the safer way
was to make the best time I could toward home.

I climbed out cautiously, and hearing their
shouts a long way off, I bent my course over the
hills at a rate which soon removed the extra
water from my clothing.

“ I gave them the slip and succeeded in escap-
ing their observation. 'l‘hey followed me during
the day, frequently getting ahead of me, but I
always managed to elude them. Once, indeed,
a single savage espied me, and called to his fol~
lowers, but I turned sharp upon my course, and
left them bewildered and discomﬁted. There
the chase must have ended, for I saw them no
more.

“I have been lying about in the woods for
several hours, not caring to come in till the in-
habitants should all be asleep. I must not sta
longer. Let me get my weapons, and then ,
can live in the forest, harming nobody and‘
afraid of nobody. Sooner or later this mystery
will be cleared up, and thenI can come back
and be your brother a ain, openly.”

“ You will at least ay down and sleep a few
hours," urged Kate, who felt all a sister’s inter—
est in the noble young man. “ We will wake
you before light, so that there can be no
danger.”

“I‘Io. no, Kate; I must not stay. I can sleep
perfectly well in the forest, and when I have
means of procuring food and defending myself
from Indians, I can live very well till such time
as I am proved innocent.”

Stephen had passed from the a artment, but
soon came back, bringing the ri e and pistols,
with a quantity of ammunition.

“ Your powder-horn was nearly empty.” he
said, holding up the one he had brought; “so I
took mine, which was almost full. There’s near
a hundred bullets in‘ your pouch, and when
either gets reduced come to me—I shall always
have a supply.”

Ralph thanked his brother, and took the am-
munition which he quickly disposed of. Then
he slipped the pistols into h s belt and slung the
riﬂe over his shoulder.

“ Now I feel like a man again I” he exclaimed.
“ Lend me one of your knives, Stephen, for I
have nothing to cut my food with, as I spoiled
this thing digging out of the Indian cabin.”

He threw down the battered Indian blade as
he spoke, and Stephen sprung to bring the
required article. In a moment he re-entered the
apartment, saying in a hurried tone:

“The house is beingysurrounded, Ral h; I
fear all is discovered! ou must bide, qu ckly,
or they will ﬁnd on.” -

“ Never fear or me. Do you be shed and
fast asleep. I will take care of Ralph! Go—
a): know nothing as to where I am—I have

n here, but am gone.”

There was something in his manner so im-'
pressive to the hearers that they could not refuse
compliance, and immediately stole from the
room. No sooner were they gone than Ralph
slipped into the chimney, and was soon hidden
from ordinary observation.

He had scarcely vacated
a loud knock resounded u n the door. Stephen
now gathered more full is brother’ meaning,
and in a drowsy tone as ed who was there.

the apartment when

   
  

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 Reckless Ralph’s Risk. 18

 

 

 

i
i
l
l

“ Never mind,” was the savage response.
“ Open the door; .we want that murderer that’s
in here i"

RI'I‘ There is no murderer here,” said Stephen

1 ey.

“ Never mind. Open the door or down it
comes this very miuitl”

As Stephen was alreadv dressed ho fumbled
about for a moment, and then opened the door,
looking exceedin ly sleepy.

“ I don’t see w at you mean disturbing a man
iit 1;tlhis time 0' night,” he said, rather petu-

an y.

But no heed was (paid to his words, and the
excited rabble rushe into the room, overthrow-
ing chairs and table and grasping imaginary
foes in ever corner. Lights were soon produced,
and then illiam Rufus, who had ever been
foremost in the endeavors to sacriﬁce Ralph,
presented a pistol at Riley’s head.

“ We want to know whar that murderer isl”
he said, in tones intended to be very impressive.

“ That is something I cannot tell you,” re-
plied the threatened man. “ 1 do not know.”

“D’ye mean to say that Ralph Riley hain't
been here to-night?”

“ He has been here, but is gone,” said Stephen,
recollecting the paﬂtharge of his brother.

“ When did he go? hich way—and where?”

“ I do not know.”

“ Remember this pistol,”——and the muzzle
was brought still closer to his head.

“ I see it,” returned Stephen, “ but I tell you
only the truth. I do not know where he is.
You are at liberty to examine the house and
look for him where you choose."

“ Don’t waste time,” shouted another. “He
is in this house, I tell you; let’s ﬁnd him.”

“So we will, hoys,’ said Rufus. “ Take one
room at a time, and make sure of it.” '

 

CHAPTER VIII.
run season.

Tun plan was quickly carried out. One room
aftei-another. was closely examined, and every
crauny underwent the strictest scrutiny. The
cellar chamber and chimney were respectively

rod into, and no box or barrel left unturned.

at, when the party reassembled in the room

whence the search had started, they were forced
to confess that it had been utterly fruitless.

Ste hen Riley had anxiously awaited the re-
sult, oping that his brother might escape.
Rufus again approached him, and the pistol was
once more brought into requisition.

“Where is that fellow?" he demanded, bran-
dishing the Weapon. “ You know where he is,
now, don’t deny it; ’tmay be the wuss for ye, in
the end.”

“I told you he was gone,” replied Stephen,
calmly. “ 'You found my words true.”

“ But I tell you we know he hain’t left this
bonnie. He’s here somewhere, and we want
him

“ You’ve my permissiOn to search the house.
I know no more than you what has become of
him. He has left—that is all I know.”

“He ain’t gone, I tell you. The househasbeen
watched ever since we found he was here. .Have
you looked in the chimney?”

 

The last remark was addressed to one of his
fellows, who was especially active in the search.
The person questioned ran to the chimney,
peered up, and even ascended a few ate s.

“Confound it all, Bill,” be muttere , sliding
to the ﬂoor, and brushin off the soot, “I can t
tell. Seems as if 1 con (i see sunthin’ up thsr,
but I ain’t sure.” '

A general peering up chimney followed, some
going so far as to declare that they could see
him plainly, while others seemed for from cer- ' ‘
tain in regard to the matter.

“ See here,” exclaimed Rufus, step ing to the
bed which had been vacated b Ste en and his
wife, “one of you jest throw t at s raw into the
ﬁreplace, while I tell them outside to keep their
riﬂes on to of the chimney. We‘ll soon bring
him down i he is up thar.”

The men were delighted at the prospect of
such rare sport, and ﬁlled the am e ﬁreplace
with straw, when Rufus stepped to t edoor, and
in load tones bade them without watch the
chimney, and to shoot any one attem ting to
leave it“,b This done, he returned to t 9 room
where is followers were assembled, and ﬁre
was applied to the combustible mass. ‘

Stenhen watched the ﬁerce ﬂames as they shot
up, with a. terrible fear at his heart. He did not
think it possible that Ralph could have left the
house, and the only lace where he could be so-
creted was there. ve moment he looked to
see a smothered form fa l to the ﬂoor, or to hear
the report of riﬂes without. But the minutes
passed, the straw burned out, and all continued
silent. The vigilance of the search was all un- .
rewarded, and with a crestfallen air Rufus
turned to his deluded followers. .

“ He can‘t be here, we must look som‘ers else
for him,” he said. “ But he’s som‘ers near, and
we‘ll nab him before he can git oil'.”

The searching party hustled out of the house,
and were soon scouring about in the vicinity,
thinkin it possible he might have slipped from
the dwe ling unobserved. But they found'noth-
ing and. after venting their disappointmentin
oaths, proceeded into the forest, rather with I.
hope than any ex ectations of ﬁnding him.

When they be gained a safe distance from
the house, Ralph suddenly emerged in the apart-
ment where Stephen and Kate were stan lug,
wondering what had become of the person in
question.

“Where in this world, Ralph, did on hide!"
the brother demanded. “ I looked 0 see you
hunted down every moment. Did you go up the
chimney?" ‘

“Yes. there was where 1 went at ﬁrst. But
before I tell you more, get me the knife we
spoke”of, so that I can be ready‘ to leave at any
time.

Though very anxious to hear how his shrewd
and daring brother had escaped, Stephen bar,
tened for the weapon, and soon returned with
it in his hand. ,

“ There is a man beneath ‘one of the windows
of this room,” he said. placing the weapon in
Ralph’s hand. “I think he is left ala y. I
saw him crawlin along and eudeavo ng to
pe?r.i”n;- possibly 0 heard the sound of your
vo co. v

 

 

i

 

 

 

I0 Reckless Ralph's Risk.

“That is unlucky," mused Ralph. “ If I at-
tempt to leave he Will be certain to follow, and
bring down the whole crew upon me. I think
I can ﬁt him. Let me reﬂect a moment. I
must not hurt him—I have no wish to' and yet
I can’not consent tamer to be hung. l have it,
DOW

He went to the cupboard, and taking up a
tin box pouredaquantit of its contents into
his hand. Then he mov toward another part
of the room.

“ Come this way,” he said, “ and I will tell
you how I have escaped so far, though 1 must
be in a hurry. When I went up the chimne I
stopped on tog) of the partition, and conclu ed
I could slip rom side to side and dodge them
so. I did that while they were searching the
rooms, but when the, began to talk of burning
me out with straw, concluded that it woul
not be safe with all my powder aboard. I knew
by their conversation that all of them were in
this room, and they seemed to have forgotten
that there was any other outlet to the chimney.
So I slid down into the other room, and in the
closet found a secure hiding-place till they had
gone. But-I must not stay a moment lbnger
the?” necessary. Look out, if you want to see

no .

“1 only wonder what you intend doing with
my red- lpggri” said Kate.

‘EIt wil no wonder long,” he remarked,
descending the cellar steps.

Having reached the cellar. Ralph proceeded
to one of the windows, which be carefully
opened, and gazed fortu. The silent form
crouching a few feet distant heard no sound
till the doomed hunter spoke in a changed voice.

“ D’ e hear anythin'l” he almost whispered.

“ hat d’ye say?" demanded the watcher.

“ D’ye hear anvthin’i”

“ Is that you Jones?”

“ It ain’t anyhody else.”

“ No, I don’t know’s I did,” was the hesitat-
ing reply as the face drew near the cellar win-
. dow. ‘ i did thinkl heern somebody in thar,

but a teller can’t look in, an’ I guess ’twa’n’t
nobod but Steve—”

Att t moment his observations came to an
end, as the handful of pepper was dashed into
his face, filling his eyes nostril and mouth
with the ﬁne, pungent dust! The effect was
electrical. The unsuspecting victim relied upon
the ground, coughing, gasping, sneezing, en-
deavoringtoshout, but utterl unable to com-
mand the requisite amount of reath. '

Ralph merely made sure that his work was
effectually done, and then hastened above. He
found Stephen and Kate almost convulsed at
the ludicrous postures of the suffering spy whom
they had watched.

‘9 I haven’t hurt him,” the young man said.
hurriedly. “ Now I must say you good-by, for
it is uncertain when we may meet again.”

Afew hasty words of parting were spoken.
and then the young man 0 ed the door.
Looking carefully forth to ma 9 sure that none
of his foes were at hand, he passed into the open
air and soon the darkness hid him from the eyes
of his frlendl.

Not till he reached the darkest shades of the

' .1 forest did the fugitive pause, and then but for a

 

moment. How to proceed, in what direction to
go, and where to pause, were points upon
which he could not decide. More fully than
ever he realized how utterly outcast he was—-
how doubly doomed! The savages sought his
life, but sought it no more persistent] than did
the whites—those with whom he he lived for

many years, and during all those years had.

borne a spotless character. But, be reﬂected
that appearances were against him—that it was
but natural for his follows to ﬁx the dreadful
crime of murder upon him.

That he could prove his innocence at some
time he did not doubt; yet, meanwhile he must
keep himself concealed. not onl from the whites
but also from the aborigines. f be was fortun-
ate enough to do this all would be well.

These thoughts passed through the young
man’s mind in a moment, and he decided to
shape his course to the westward. There he
knew game to be plenty and in these lonely, al-
most unexplored wilds, he would be compara-
tively secluded from the world of mankind, red
an white.

othink was to act, for he had no time to
lose. In what direction his pursuers had gone
he hardly knew, but trusted to his good fortune
and ready instinct to avoid them, if any chance
should throw him in conjunction with them.

Ralph walked very rapidly, for it was verg-
ing toward morning, and he wished to put a
re table stretch of wilderness between himself
an those who sought his life before light should
visit the earth. He knew the region perfectly,
and scarce] gave heed to his footsteps, so busy
were his houghts with the strange scenes
through which he had passed.

But he was soon brought to consciousness by
the appearance of a ﬁgure just in advance of
him and the abrupt question:

“ othin’ of the murderer, I reckiu’l” ‘

“ No I don’t ﬁnd anything. Where’s the rest .

of ’em ’

“ Who be on?” demanded the other, bending
forward, an endeavoringto peer into the young
man’s face. “ Well, never mind—the rest are
right out this way; come on, I’ll take ye to ’em.”

‘ No matter about it," returned Ralph, care-
lessly. “ J’ll take a scout of! this way, and
maybe we’ll ﬁnd something.”

“ Guess not!” ventured his interlocutor, en-
deavoring to bring his riﬂe to bear. “You’re
the very man we want—come along 1”

He uttered a loud, quick signal with the same
breath, and the fugitive realized that he was
getting into a decidedly dangerous position.
With the bound of a cat, Ralph sprung upon
the other. and bore him to the ground. Then
grasping the man's weapon he hurled it away
in adirection opposite to the one he intended
taking himself. .

Meanwhile. the person upon the ground mani-
fested no disposition to remain there. No sooner
had Ralph relaxad his hold than he sprung to his
feet, only to be knocked down by a powerful
blow from the other’s ﬁst.

While he was regaining his scattered senses,
Ralph was ﬂying rapidly through the woods.
He could hear the sounds of gathering fort-es,
and knew that every moment was inestimahly
precious. There was some confusion when the

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settlers reached their comrade. All was conjec~
ture as to which way the fugitive had gone.

This matter was decided by that personage
himself, who unwittingly plunged into a mass
of dry weeds, which cracked and snapped be-
neath his tread. Before he was reailiy aware of
the dan er his own movements ha betrayed
him. ith a shout and rush the eager man-
hunters started in pursuit, some of them stop-
ping to discharge their weapons ﬁrst. But the
balls ﬂewi wigs, since thie diarkness grave them no
opportun t aim, an t e pursue man 5
forward wﬂh vi rous bounds. pad

In a moment t e race and pursuit became ex-
citing. The fugitive had no advantage, save
that of knowing the forest more thormig ly than
any other person in the settlement. at to oi!-
set this the pursuers were fresh and in rest
numbers; so that by scatterin to the righ and
left, they prevented Ralph tom turning in
either direction without great danger of imme-
diate capture.

Occasional shot] were ﬁred by those who heard
the youn man's steps, and fancied that a
chance bu let might save them a ion run in the
dark. But none of them took e ect. They
wtere ﬁred too hastily and without any certainty
o aim.

Suddenly the sound of footste sin advance
ceased, and a glad shout went up rom the pur~
suers. They had no doubt but that he had
fallen, and with renewed cries they hastened to
the spot, expecting to ﬁnd his bleeding form
upon the ground.

Very naturally there arose diverse opinions as
to the precise place where the sounds had ceased
more especially as they found nothing to reward
tgeir seagch ini thetilllicinii’ﬁy. lalirolm side to side
t eyspe . rng ran 1: e goomatevery
object Whig? appeared iii dark relief ugon the
surface of the earth and in useless searc spent
considerable time, disputing and blustering as
all bodies of excited men will do.

Very naturallietehey came to the conclusion
that they had n deceived throughout, and
that the man they were looking for had em-
plo ed the time in making good his escape. In
ad ition to this gain of time none knew the
route he had taken. and pursuit under such cir-
cumstances would quite. as likely be wrong as

ri ht.

g‘ Scatter, my boys!” shouted William Rufus,
who was almost frantic at his repeated disap-
pointments. “ Some of you 0 in various ways.
anilnthe one that ﬁnds him re his gun as a sig-
118 s

The men hastened to obey. and radiated
through the forest in all directions. As every
one was anxious to ﬁnd the ﬁrst traces, knowing
it would redound to his consequence and distinc.
tion. the efforts of many an earnest searcher
would have been ludicrous in the extreme if
daylight could have rendered them visible.

But, despite all the seal carried into the
search. it proved fruitless. Guns were dis-
charged. to be sure, and every one ﬂocked to-
ward the sound but it proved a false alarm in
every case. and ongbafter daybreak the weary
pm gave over t e blind search, and re-
ti . to Forest Valley, weary. hungry and dis.
“ude .

 

CHAPTER IX.
OLD FRIENDS.

'I‘ml: race which Ralph led his enemies through
the forest and the manner in which he gave
them the slip ﬁnally, had all been meditated in
the youth’s mind from the moment of his set-
ting out. Making all possible noise as he ran,
and feeling sure that the were not gaining
essentially upon him, he su deni slackened his
speed, and stole a“ ay in a di erent direction.

is movements were now as noiseless as they
had previoust been careless, and it was but
natural that the man-hunters should suppose
him to have fallen from the effects of ashot.
Such was not the result he had anticipated,
however, although it answered his purpose ad-
mirably. He mere) intended to confuse them,
and gain a tolerab e distance while they were
looking for him. This he certainly did. being
at least half a mile distant before the radiating
pursuit was organized. A he did not pause.
merely turning his course more to the north—
ward as he progrssed, it will to seen how faint
the chances for overhauling him a ere.

At length daylight began to bring out the
features of the forest more plain] ,and thin
Ralph changed his course again. 9 had been
obliged to take a direction nue northeast at the
onset, which of course had taken him almost
directly away from the region of his intended
sojourn. This comes he had gradually changed
to one leading north, but this was scarcely
better, as, while taking him away from the
whites. it was leading toward the country of his
no less zealous enemies the Indians. v

But it would not do to risk all upon too sud-
den a change, as it was not certain how long
the pursuit would be kept up nor what direction
it would take. That they could pussibl
him thus far Ralph did not believe, and t e only
danger he ran was that of being stumbled upon
by a random searcher.

These considerations induced him to pause ‘

where he was, and remain quiet, keeping
a lookout upon all sides, to see that no un-
welcome visitor approached his vicinity. There
was a stream of pure water near by, and his
abundant repast of the night before had driven
all thoughts of present hunger from his mind..

Noon came and passed. The fugitive was

uite refreshed, and yet no signs of foes.
bti'engthened by the .hearty food of which. he
had pariaken the night previous, and anxious to
avoid any chance capture, be resolved to set out
immediately for the western wilderness. There
he Would be safe, for a time at least, and could
give mind and body that rest so much needed.

Passing down to the creek be bent over. and
took a hearty drink of the or stal waters. It
was refreshing and delighth to his wearied
frame, and as it was questionable when he might
meet with tolerable water again, he bent over
and took a second draught.

“Ugh!”

As the youth was rising to his i’e’et a deep,
guttural voice on the other side of the stream
pronounced a single exclamation, and two men,
very similar in physical developments, but very
unlike in other characteristics, stood regarding
each other dubiously.

The intruder was none other than Ralph’s I

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18 Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

 

sometime friend and preserver, Elk’s Foot, the
Indian prince!

Evidently his sur rise at the meeting was no
less than that of Ra ph. Neither had a weapon in
hand, and neither seemed fully to comprehend
the other’s feelings toward him.

“ Elk’s Foot glad to meet ale-face ’gain,”
that individual ﬁnally remark , looking around
him as much as posSi le without taking his eyes
from the man he addressed.

“ I can’t say that I am ’s cially glad of any
such thing,” returned Ralp , who was chagrin-
ed at the meeti . “ You didn’t use me espe-
ciall well when saw on before.”

“ shunted for you ong while,” pursued the
Indian. “ Now me find you, take you back to
Sleeging Fawn.”

“ uses not,” remarked Ralph, who was get-
ting one hand on the lock of a pistol. “ You’ll
have to be too smart for me if youdo.”

Before he could produce the weapon, however,
the savage uttered a loud yell, and sprung across
the stream. He produced a hatchet at the same
moment, but before it could be drawn back into
a striking position, Ralph had grasped him, and
a ﬁerce stru le ensued.

In bulk an aphysical power the two combat-
ants were equ ly matched—the Indian beings.
triﬂe taller, and not quite so heavily built as is
antagonist. The white, however, was much the
more sup is, and played around the confused
Indian in is own manner. The latter, although
he had probably never grasped the man whom
he could not vanquish, and somewhat surprised
by- the peculiar movements of the hunter, was
no mean antagonist. He deﬁed every effort to
throw him to the earth, and at times had his
hatchet dangerously free. But Ralph as stead-
ily foiled every attempt to strike on the Indinn’s
$117, and generally gained some slight advan-

ge in turn.

But the contest gave promise of too rest
duration, and the white resolved upon a ho d ex-
pedient for ending it. The struggle had occur-
red upon the bank of the creek, which both had
taken care to avoid at first. Now he sprung
quickly into the water, drawing the savage after
him. The result was what he had anticipated.
The tall indian lost his footing, and with a
slight eﬂort Ralph threw him headlong into the
stream.

While Elk’s F'oot was ﬂoundering around in
the disturbed ﬂood, the victor sprung to the
shore, and started oﬂ through the forest at al-
most lightning speed. He realized that the ln-
dlan’s followers were probably near at hand, and
discretion under such circumstances would be
more to his purpose than headlong rushness.

He was right in suspecting their proximity,
for he had scarcely sped ﬂ ty ards upon his
course when a shout arose, and coking back he
saw that a number of Indians had up and up-
on the scene of his late struggle with t eir chief.
He had barely time to throw himself behind a
tree when two or three guns were discharged,
and the balls whistled so closely as to leave no
doubt of their fatal effects had he not taken the
precautions he did.

Much as he would have deli hted to return
the shotsilhe had no time for so oing.
ing all is strength be bounded away, and

Gather— .

 

though other missiles whistled after and about
him, none of them came within dangerous dis-
tance.

“ Fire away i" he muttered, darﬁng on with
unabated speed.
losing time, and while your are blazing away
I’ll be runnin i”

The truth 0 this reasoning soon became so ap-
parent to the Indians that they desisted from
ﬁring, and bent all their energy to the pursuit.
Ralph had gained sufﬁciently during the few
moments which had been allowed him, to give
him quite a tolerable chance in the race which
was to follow. The Indians, however, were
never more determined than upon the present
occasion, and for miles the race was continued
without any apparent advantage to either side.

The savages were more scattered; one or two, =

and Eik’s Foot led the party, being nearer than
at the commencement, while others had fallen
back, almost out of sight. Ral h had taken a
western route, so that he was ma ing ground in
the right direction. Still, he preferred to take
his time in making his 'ourney, and to do it
without observation. asides, the long-cou-
tinued exertion was telling upon his worn frame,
and he be an to feel the need of at least a short
res its. is resolve was soon taken. He would
en eavor to check the'progress of his foes.

His riﬂe had been slung over his back, but he
managed readin to disengage it, and then he
looked at the priming as he ran. It was in per-
fect order, and without any hesitation he wheel-
ed quickly, placed the barrel besides. sapling to
insure it from any tremulous motion, and level-
ed it at Elk’s Foot, who was in advance, and
quite near.

It really seemed hard to take the life of one
who had once saved his own, and if Ral h had
reasoned more upon the matter his nob e soul
might have refused to sanction the attempt.
But he had no time for nice calculations, and.
with a steady aim he pulled the trigger!

There was a ﬂash—then a report; but the
weapon hung fire for a moment. Elk’s Foot was
unharmed, though one of his followers, at a con-
:idlelrzble distance, was stricken down by the

u e .

“ So hoi" he thought, turnin to continue his
ﬂight. “ I might have expec as much. My
hand is getting so unsteady that I can’t even
shoot—that doesn‘t argue well for my getting
clear of this yelling tribe. Possibly I can load
on a run and not lose ground much. I’ll try it.”

He had often gracticed the exerciss, and few
could handle a ri s more readily than himself,

at he found it a serious task to ram home the

ullet without slackening his speed to a great
extent. Still, he succeeded, and was withdraw-
ing the ramrod, when it slipped from his ﬁngers,
and dropped to the ground. This was an acci-
dent of no triﬂing moment in such a life-and-
death race as the presant. He was obliged to
stop upon the instant and retrace several etc
before regaining it. As he did so one of the n~
dians ﬁred, his bullet cutting class to the young
man’s head, but producing no injury. ‘

Just as he re ined the rod and was upon the
point of resum :5 his ﬂight 25‘.
a bait, and hurl his hate at with great fury.
This distance was long, buﬁalph only escaped

“You can’t shoot without -

lk’s F'oot came to - ‘

   

 

 

 

 

 

  

   
  

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Ev
T‘”"”‘”“‘”’”Z«ﬁ;

 

Reckless Ralph’s Risk. 19

 

a wound by stepping to one side. At the same
time he drew a pistol, and ﬁred at the savage
with a deliberate aim.

Long as was the range, this shot was more suc-
cessful than that with the riﬂe had been. Elk’s
Foot uttered a cry, and grasped one arm with
the hand of the other. Instead of continuing to
lead the pursuit, as he had done, the son of a
chief pointed in advance, and urged on his war-
riors, exhibiting to them his wounded arm.
With fresh cries of vengeance they rushed for-

ward.

Ralph had taken advantage of the slight pause
to prime his loaded riﬂe, and with aquick move-
ment he brought it to bear upon the dusktylpur-
suers. A sharp detonation bespoke the a of
another'brave, and again the fugitive turned to
ﬂee. But his shot had in no wise slackened the
pursuit. The Indians were determined upon
giving him no time to reload, and pressed for-
ward at the top of their s ed.

Unfortunate for the ugitive the had ass-
ed the region 0 rolling country whic had n
so opportune for him 11 n a previous race, and
the andscape spread be ore them a dreary level.
The wood was mainly of gigantic growth, and
quite open, so that no opportunity presented for
strategy. Any deviation from a direct line
would only bring him nearer the savages. The
only thin he could do was to press directly on—
ward. an trust to fate to deliver him from pur-
su t..

But steadily the sava es came on, gradually
gaining, as it seemed to t e fugitive hunter. He
on the contrary, began to feel exhausted, and
realized that he must succumb should the chase
be prolonged for a great length of time. The
manifold ardships through which he had

assed had told upon his naturally rugged
rams.

Looking back, he saw that quite a dozen In-
dians were still within sight—odds too great for
any single man. no matter how bold and cour-
ageous. POSSibly he might reduce their num-
ber. The only question was that of reloading
his riﬂe. He had also a pistol undischarged,
and he did not believe a single ﬁrearm among
the Indians to be loaded. '

Shifting his gun, Ralph poured the owdor
in, and roduced a ball, which be ﬁt to the
muzzle o the bore. Then he attem ted todraw
the rammer. Just at that momen he was un-
deceived in regard to the state of the enemies’
weapons. A gun was discharged behind him,
and the bullet whistled near—so near. indeed,
as to strike the lower rt of his riﬂe. He
glanced down,to assure _imself that the wea-

n was not seriousl injured, then proceeded

ram down the bal

He turned the piece in order to prime, when
a gas of despair burst from his lips. The sav-
age's gullet had carried away the cover to his
riﬂe-pan! Here was a loss not to be remedied.
His most valuable weapon was .ruined. With a
best exclamation he hurled it from him, and
the ndlans, divining the cause, set up a shout
of triumph. -

He had scarcely thrown aside his weapon
when he found himself in the midst ofn densely-
tangled vine. He endeavored to pause—to save

, . v

 

himself, but it was too late. His foot caught,
and he was thrown to the earth.

Extricating the unfortunate member, he at-
tempted to use it, but found that his knee had
been wrenched, and was useless for the mo-
ment. Still, he raised himself upright and
with folded arms and a look of defiance,
awaited the arrival of his exulting enemies.

He had not long to wait, for the red-men
were only too anxious to secure so dangerous a
foe. Without any pause they rushed upon and
disarmed, but did not bind him. A stalwart
savage took him by either arm, and dragged
himtoano ening. where they waited for the
arrival of lk’s Foot, who was some distance
behind.

That individual came on at length, having
stopped to bind up his torn and bleeding arm.
An expression of savage satisfaction mantled
his features on beholding the man who had
wounded him, and led the ﬂeetest of his tribe
such a prolonged race.

“Pale-face great warrior,” he said, with a
ﬁendish intonation. “Him run ver fast. but
no match for the braves of the elf-Slayer.
The sta is not more ﬂeet of foot than they, and
the cage ﬂies not lon er than they run. But
gale—face must go to elf—Slayer and Sleeping

awn: they would see him again, and see him
burn!" ‘

There was something in the words which sent
a deadly thrill to the prisoner’s heart, but he

made little or no reply, and soon the party de- ,

clared themselves ready to set out for home.
Four were sent to bring in the two that had
fallen by Ralph’s riﬂe, while the others took a
bee-line for their home, striking through the
forest as though by instinct.

CHAPTER X.
A MEETING IN Tan FOREST.

Ir is very seldom that hope utterly desertsthe
human heart. However signally reason may
have failed to discern any gleaming of promise,
that sweet angel will stil hover near‘the heart,

'ving expectation of good even from the most
ecided evil.

So it was with Ralph Riley, as his face was
turned once more in the direction of the Indian
country. escorted by men whose expressed an-
ticipations were of seeing him burned to death!
It was far from being a comforting or pleas-
urable thought, and reason showed no manner
in which he could avoid the intended fate.
There was no possibility of hope from his fel-
{seamen—they would be equally anxious to slay

1m.
band of zealous savages. The only poss_
opportunity of escape he had spurned, throwmg
it aside as involving a living death and perpet-
ual dishonor, more to be feared than immed ate
dissolution. .

Altogether the picture was not pleasant, nor
one which he cared to ccntemplate. _But it was
hard to take his mind from surrounding circumn
stances. Try as he would the ﬁery spectacle of
a man burning at the stake, to appease the
honor of a slighted Indian damsel, would in-
trude upon his fancy. And when he realized
that within a few hours, or days at most, he

 

should in all probability have the pleasure of"

He was weaponless, and guarded bﬁﬂa .
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experiencing that novel auto da fe, it must be
said, in all candor that a sickly sensation per-
vaded his being. he longed for forgetful ness—
even regretted that he had not resisted to the
last gasp, and induced his savage foes to shoot or
tomahawk him before surrendering.

Still would hope come in his calmer moments,
and whisper various improbable things to him:
——that he might escape—that the cause of the
murder might have " been found out, and that
his friends would hasten to seek and save him.
These and man more improbable, but not ut-
terly impossib e fancies, passed through his
mind as he traveled slowly onward.

The long race had taken up the best portion

'or the afternoon, and wearied the braves ex-

ceedingly. So much so, indeed, that after walk-
ing a few miles it was decided to stop for the
night. Two expert hunters were Sent out to
rovide ame for their supper, and the others
usied t emselves in building a ﬁre, quizzing
the prisoner, and smoking pipes—not those of
co, however.
Within an hour the hunters returned, having
been fortunate in securingaﬂne buck. Here
was an unexpected treat, the long race having

- given every participant is. keen appetite, not ex-
cepting the prisoner. A dozen broad slices soon

were broiling upon the coals, ﬁlling the forest
with an agreeable odor. The hungry natives
did not wait for it to cook, however, but
snatched the savory steak before it was really
warmed.

Ralph was requested to help himself, but,
hungry ashe was, preferred to wait until the
meat was tolerably cooked. He came near 105.
ing it; the hungry warriors having hastily swal-
lowed their ﬂrst installments, and rushed greed-
ily for his. But he was on the watch, and bore
it away' in advance of the tall warrior whose

.mouth was expressly prepared for it. Thus the

meal passed away, the Indians taking delight in
the'hearty. manner of the prisoner, and confer-
rin together in regard to the extent of his suf-
ferﬁigs when the ﬂames should begin their dead-
ly work.

,But Ralph was not moved by all this: he
would not suffer the pangs of hunger now,’thut
he might suffer less in the dread ordeal. Pos-
sigelg he might esca , and in that case he should

all his strengt .

Soon after the meal was eaten, the satiated

warriors began to throw themselves upon the

" groundto sleep. The sun had sunk low, and

twilight was gathering over the forest. The
risoner did not regret this move in the least,
or possibly he might sleep, and in unconscious—
ness lose the fearful spectacle which continually
presented itself to his wakin vision. It is pos-
sible that he might have be other fancies, but
if so, they were not reall dwelt upon.
' The Indians soon-comp eted their preparations
for his accommodation. These consisted of two
long, slender poles, which were put across his
body, and upon either end of which a savage
was to sleep. This was not entirely a comfort-
able arrangement for the prisoner, but evident-
lbyeﬂgite as much so for him as for those who lay

him.
A single scout had been sent out. who de-
scribedscircle around the comp, and ﬁnding

 

all in order, returned, and threw himself u n
the ground near the ﬁre. In a very short t me
all seemed to be sleeping soundly.

Ralph felt the need of rest, but his eyes would
not close. Thoughts of the fate which must
soon be his kept all possibility of drowsiness at
bay. Finally he began to think it possible that
his most sanguine hopes were to be realized dur-
ing the night. Surely while his captors were
sleeping so soundly, if ever, he ought to be able
to leave them.

True, the Indians had undertaken to provide
against any Possibility of his leaving, but after
examining a l the circumstances thoroughly, he
felt that with prudence and skill he might extri-
cate himself without waking the savages sleep-
ing beside him. _

_The poles 'which had been used to conﬁne
him were quite pliant, and by gently pressing
upward with one foot, he was enabled to with-
draw the other. This was one point gained. He
was proceeding to extricate the second moving
very carefully, when the savage upon his right
side sprung suddenly to his feet, and grasped his

gun.

Ralph was startled, thinking that his indis-
cretion had cost his life. But he was immensely
relieved when the Indian moved away into the
forest. Very soon he returned, uttered a growl
of disappointment, and threw himself down to
s eep.

He noticed the fact of Ralph having with-
drawn both feet from beneath the rod which
conﬁned them, so moved the pole up a foot or so
toward the prisoner’s body, and threw himself
upon it again.

Another tedious waitingr followed, until the '

guard was sleeping soundly, and then Ral h
began to experiment with a view to regs n-
ing his liberty. But he was very soon satis-
ﬁed that any movement of his, sufﬁcient to
free his limbs, would awaken one or both of
his watchers, and perhaps insure him immediate
death. Still he was willing to run the risk,
since there was everything to gain—nothing to

lose.

Ralph had commenced the work of extrica-
tion, and was progressing very slow] , when
a circumstance occurred to hasten is pro-
Ceedings. The Indian upon his left ave a
grunt, and rolled away from him, remov ng his
body from one of the rods, which ﬂew upward
with a bound. Nothing could have been
more fortunate for the young man’s purposes
than this move. He was at once enabled to ex-
tricate his lower limbs, and the feeling of free-
dom which thrilled through his frame was in-
Vigorating.

As though an invisible hand was assisting the
prisoner (and who shall say that such was not
the case?), the Indian drew away still further,
and the remaining pole raised itself into the air.
Ralph could scarce restrain his Eiloy at such si .
ha] and unwitting assistance. e~ had scarcefy
command enough of his nervous system to re-
frain from springing to his feet and bounding
away through the forest. But he metered the
joyful emotions, and very carefully crawled
away from the fatal vicinity.

A moment more, and he would be free.
Was it to be? Carefully he stole sway, inch

Va
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, using excessive caution.

 

Reckless Ralph’s Risk. 8!

 

b inch almost, listening, lon ing hoping for
tile boon which hung by a single thread. Just
at the instant when he would have broken
away from the scene, he heard a savage mov-
ing. Was he to be discovered? At that time
he stood beside a small tree, the branches of
which hung within reaching distance of the
ground.

Almost without any settled purpose, he swung
himself into the branches, and noiseless'ly gained
arespectable distance from the ground. Here
he aused to notice the movements within the
In ian cam .

As he ha feared, his absence became known
in a moment, and the camp was in an uproar.
Very Silently the Indians spread into the forest,

lidlng along like so man specters. Ralph
Enew that his chance would ave been less than
nothing had he attempted ﬂight. In a few mo-
ments all the Indians had dispersed, leaving him
alone within the leafy beech.

Noticing the direction taken by his enemies,
he slid to the ground and ﬂitted 011’ in the woods,
Having proceeded but
a few rods, he again mounted into a friendly
tree, whose branches would afford him certain
security as long as darkness remained. His pur-
pose, however, was to rest there for an hour or
more until the savages should give up the
search, then to take to his feet again. Ere long,
one by one, the Indians came in. He could see
the dull cdmpvﬂre from his perch. and counted
their numbers, until at length all were in, the
last being Elk’s Foot. At once a council was
held. Then was the moment to ﬂy, since the
council would surely end in arrangements for a
thorough search of the forest as soon as the light

’ ﬁmitted. Slipping down from his leafy covert,

alph once more trod the forest mazes—a hunted
man.

When once clear of the dangerous vicinity,
it was but natural that he should begin to
reﬂect upon what lay before him. Where to
to go. and what to do? Alone and weapon-
less hunted and doomed both by his fellow-
whites and the Indians, his cae was desperate
indeed. ..

As he could not live in the forest Without wea-

ns, or some method of rocuring food, hisﬁrst
impulse was to return to crest Valley and seek
for a new supply. But this would be a most
dangerous experiment, since his late appearance
there had, no doubt, put those who sought his
life doubly u is their guard. Extensive as had
been his bor er and forest experience, he knew
of no retrut where he nﬁght safely hide from
his numerous enemies. is only safety was in

utting such a distance between himself and
hem as would render futile all their attempts
against him.

As his present course was toward the east, the
very reverse of the direction he Wished to take
he only continued it for such time as seem
sufﬁcient to carry him beyond the savages’
reach. Then he turned his steps to the south-
east. heading for Forest Valley. Not that he
really intended to revisit the place, but an Irre-
sistible inﬂuence drew him thence. ' _

He traveled some miles in the new direction,
and then stopped. He was uncertain as to the
exact distance he might have traveled, and, as

 

morning was already paling the eastern stars, be
resolved to wait until its beams should reveal his
whereabouts. He was far from feeling anxious
for further adventures, if they could possibly be
avoided.

Daylight came at length, and Ralph soon sat-
isﬂed himself as to his whereabouts. He was
within ten miles of Forest Valley, in a region he
had frequently visited.

He was undecided which of two plans to pur-
sue. Probably he could remain where he was
till late in the da , and stand comparatively
small chances of eing discovered. Then he
could shape his course toward Forest Valley,
and seek an interview with his brother during
the coming night. He could thus procurea riﬂe,
and make another attempt to gain an as lum in
the western wilderness. Failing of this, emust
take to the forest, and endeavor to obtain a liv- !
iﬂngd from such berries and roots as he could

u . .

Seeking a refuge as well sheltered from the
casual passer-by as might be readily found, the
young man threw himself upon the ground, and
was soon asleep. So deeply exhausted was he by
the past nights of unrest, that it was nearly noon
before he awoke. , .

He Would have sprung to his feet at once on
seeing how high the sun had mounted, but recol-
lecting the circumstances which surrounded
him, used due caution before making any move.
He was scanning the region before his around
him, when the sound of footsteps at a little dis-
tance in his rear startled him. Plainly he could
hear them, slow and stealthy. Almost afraid to
look around the broad trunk which sheltered
him, Ralph prepared for a struggle, and waited
till the intruder should come.

But the footsteps, instead of drawing nearer
seemed to retreat. Cautioust peering around
the tree, Ralph saw that the form was indeed
moving away—and he saw something eh, too.
The intruder was a woman! Not only that, but
he had recognized the clothing, and sprung to
his feet, with a nick and joyous exclamation:

“ My God—I t ank thee!” «

The woman heard the movements. and ut-
tered a low cry of terror for she supposed no
human being was near er. But, when she
heard the young man’s devout exclamation,-sho
stopped, and turned about with an eager, trem-
bling exprestion:

“Ralph! my dear Ralph! is it really you?" she
asked, moving toward h m and sinking upon the

strong arm which was extended to her support.

“Thank Heaven, I have found a friend at last!”

“Yes, my beloved girl, it is none other." he
said gazing down into the pale and sorrow-
mar ed features. “But I am scarce]
the considering as a friend. I am now
Ralph, hunted and doomed i”

“ What do you mean?” she demanded. “Idor ,  - r

not comprehend!”

“It is a fact.” he replied; “I am charged.
with having killed your father. and am hunted
like a wolf to be hung at the ﬁrst tree. 80 you
see my life is in risk.

“Ralph—Ralph! can this be possible? Can
men he so blind and cruel? And you above all
others!” She bowed her head on his shoulder.

and wept mummy to: «a while. When his  I:

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22 « Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

 

grief had somewhat subsided he drew her to a
seat beside a fallen tree, and related in succinct
terms the occurrences of the past ten days. And
then he, in turn, listened to an account of what
had befallen the maiden during the same event-
ful period. ______
CHAPTER XI.
NOT YET.

FOR some time the joyful twain sat in silence.
Each felt more fully than they could express in
words the joys of that reunion. The weary and
worn Nancy, after all her wanderings, had
found the one, whom of all others, she felt to be
most capable of protecting her, and encircled
by his strong arm she forgot all the dangers of
the past—those terrible sorrows and trials which
had imbittered her young life, were swallowed
up inthe present safety and happiness.

Ralph, if he did not feel equally safe and as-
sured in regard to their present situation, was
equally happy-if possible, even more so. The
dark cloud which had hung over his name for
so many weary days—which had subjected him
to persecution—driven him from the presence
of his fellow-men to wander like a haunted
spirit, driven from place to place with no rest,
no sympathy, no mercy—hunted and doomed,
all this seemed removed afar from him. He
could return once more to home and friends,
Broud and happ to assert his entire innocence,

ringing with h m the lost loved one, with con-
vincing testimony to reinstate him in all the
di nity of his former unsullied manhood.
nrely this was sufﬁcient cause for happiness
and self-congratulation. His heart rose and
swelled as he contemplated so great a consum-
mation. No more would he think of self-exile
in the lonely wilds of the lleDOWn forests; no
more start and ﬂee from every sound, or every
appearance of his brother man.

Again be pressed the maiden to his breast,
murmuriug as he did so:

“Thank God, I shall be free from this terrible
taint of suspiciOn once more. I shall owe my
whole life to you, dearest love. I can only hope
to prove my sincerity by a life of devotion."

‘ I am glad of that, Ralph, right glad,” was
the earnest reply, “for I shall need your pro-
tection. You know that I am alone in the

. world—all alone in the great, wide, strange

world, Ralph; and I shall sadly need some one
who is my friend indeed to keep me from dan-
ger and trouble in the future."
“ Our life shall be very happly, Nancy, for we
i will live only for each other. have loved you
long, and intensely, but up to the present mo-
ment never realized how Providence had linked
our destinies together. It must be that a power
.higher and greater than any here below, rules
and executes judgment upon earth.”
“ No doubt of it, Ralph; we see evidences of
its existence about us every day.”
The young man mused a moment, and then in
a meditative mood he pursued:
“ I have doubted it at times, I will confess.
When I could not see the wisdom or purpose

. which lay hidden behind some dark designs, I

have felt that chance—or a strange mixture of
in our earthly affairs.

m and evil—ml
,_ _ yet W0 cannot 896 the end, of His purposes

/

 

——we only see the dark side of the present to in-
spire our doubts, while the brighter side which
should encourage our faith, is too often over-
looked iu the pleasures of the moment.”

Then recollecting himself, he added:

“ Pshawl One would think I were studying
to be a preacher. But I happened to feel just
so, and could not help speaking out. You have
not yet told me who the murderer was.”

“ Spare me that!” Nancy moaned, with an al-
most frightened air. “ I really cannot bear to
recall that dark scene until I am forced to do
so. When called upon to relate the dark adven-
tures of that fearful ni ht, I will do it in full-
but till that time comes t 6 theme is too painful."

- “ Pardon me, Nancy, I was thoughtless. Now,
if you feel quite rested, we will resume our way,
for many a danger may still intervene between
us and home.” .

“ I know it well, Ralph. And I fear we shall
find it very dimcult to elude the Indians. No
doubt they are searching for me, and between
the two bands it will be wonderful ood luck

if we get safe to Forest Valley. 0h. cannot,

cannot go back again to their dreadful hauntsl ' A

I would rather die!”

“ Let us hope for the best, dearest. I am
well used to these forests, and if they do not
get a glimpse of us I have no doubt we can
eludlenthem, even if they should get upon our
trai.

They rose to go, Ralph supportin -the weary
form of the deer girl as they move through a
mass of bushes and undergrowth where their
progress was very slow and diﬂicult. At every
step her garments caught and tore.

‘ Oh, how provoking!” she exclaimed as her
dress caught upon a small unseen them-bush,
from which it. was no easy task to extricate it.

Stepping back to loosen the grasp of the
sharp spurs, something in the forest beyond
caught her attention, and with a low cry of
horror and despair she sunk low among the
bushes.

Ralph looked quickly up for the cause of her
alarm, and his own emotions were none of the
pleasantest, on beholding a stealthy Indian
gliding through the forest, scarcely a hundred
yards awayl For a sin is moment he stood
spell-bound, then threw h mself upon the ground
beside Nancy. Possibly the sav e had not
espied them, and would pass wit out being
aware of their presence. He had certainly
manifested no knowledge of their proximity,
and the bushes were sumciently high to shelter
them from sight unless he came very near. In
any case Ralph felt that they could do no bet-
ter. To ﬂee or fight—the only resorts which
suggested themselves—was impossible.

We are lost, lost !" groaned Nancy, whose
fond visions of rest and safety were all scattered
in a moment.

“’Shl" whispered Ralph. “He may not see
us. If we are careful not to attract is atten-
tion it is hardly probable that he will take the
pains to pass through thi bramble. Do you lie
close, while I push up through these briers and
see what direction he takes. ”

Nancy complied implicitly, and Rs] h, by
cautiously raisin his head, was soon ena led to
3995116 sromdw are the Indie: has stood. As

 

 

 

 

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Reekieu Ralph’s Risk. as

 

he expected, the savage was not there; neither
was he at any point between. Satisﬁed that he
had moved away in some other direction, Ralph,
strangely enough, forgot a portion of his habitu-
al cunning, and raised his head still higher, in
the hope of seeing the red-man. Naturally he
was anxious to know which way his foe had
gone, so as to guard against a future encounter.

But, as the event proved, the Indian was not

,far away, and had really outwitted the white.

As the latter raised his head a second time, he
observed a jet of ﬂame and smoke from a small
tree at some distance, a bullet whistled through
his clothing, cutting a lock of hair from his un-
covered head in its passage, and buried itself in
the ground beside him.

Man years in the forest had taught Ralph
Rileyt at apparently the most reckless course
often proved wisest in the result. Acting upon
this idea the young man no sooner felt the pas-
sage of the bullet than he s )rung to his feet, and
dashed, with a. yell, tower the tree containing
the savage. All unarmed as he was, the act
partook of the most utter rashness, yet it pro-
duced the very result he hoped for.

The Indian was not prepared for any such
movement.
would end the life of a fee to his race, he was
peering anxiously forward to note the result,
when he was surprised to behold an athletic
form bound through the bushes, and dash in the
direction of his perch. Recoiling in surprise, he
lost his balance, and tumbled to the ground.
Gathering himself up he ﬂew into the forest
with bounds like those of a' frightened deer.

Ralph had no intention of pursuin . He was

repared for nothing of the kind. erely satis-
fying himself that the savage would not look
around for some moments he sprung back to
the place where he had left Nanc . The maiden
still crouched ugon the groun , trembling in
mortal terror. he could not comprehend the
rash movements of her lover; it seemed to her
that he was only rusbin upon certain death.

“ Come!” he said, ra' ug her in his arms, and
bounding through the bramble. “We must
make an eﬂort to ﬂy. It is our only chance
now—Heaven only knows if we shall be success‘
ful!”

He laced her upon the ground, after passing
the o tructions n which they had been in-
.volved, and then both (1‘ forward, striking to-
ward another copse of ashes at some distance,
which seemed to give promise of a more secure
shelter. Nancy exerted herself to the utmost,
though at heart she had ver little he of es-
caping. But the horrors 0 her late mprison-
ment loomed up before her imagination like a
black cloud, and she dreaded death less than a
hopeless return to its horrors. Even Ralph was
surprised at the zeal with which she ran. keep-
ing close beside him without retarding his own
movements in the least.

Rapidly the distance was passed—they had
almost reached the copse.- Were they to gain it.
and temporary shelter? A moment of time, and
they would be within its friendly bosom. 0n-
ward—if another rod can be passed the will be
concealed from the eyes of the savage aces, for
the growth is dense, so dense that at their pre-
sent disease they cannot see beyond the green

l

Never doubting that his bullet

 

barrier. How hope rises, but rises only to be
blasted! .

A loud, savage yell from far behind rings out
upon the air, and the half-uttered exclamation
o gov gives place to a groan of despair.

‘ e are lost, Ralph!” gasped Nancy, grasp-
ing his arm.

‘ Not yet!” stout] y repeated theyoung ranger,
seizing herin turn, and making his way through
the bushy vail. “ We won’t give up ti 1 the last
moment, under any circumstances.’

With an exgerienced eye, he took in at a
single glance t e peculiarities of their situation.

A little thread of water, scarcely sufﬁcient to
form a stream, ran along through the forest, its
banks being heavily fringed with bushes for
some distance up and down from the spot where
they stood. Its general course was diagonal to
that taken by the lovers, so that b bending a
little to the southwest they could ollow down
its banks. This Nancy seemed to regard as a

foregone conclusion, and turned at once in that ‘

direction. But Ralph quickly called her back.

“ This way, love,” he said, pointing in the
other direction.

Then, as he grasped her hand and hurried on,
he added, in a low tone:

“ They will look down-stream for us. Our
only hope lies in slippin into the bushes, and
waiting until we can g ide away in some other
direction without attracting their notice. I!
we can do this all may yet turn out right."

At the same moment the foremost Indian
reached the place where they had disappeared
from his sight, and they paused opposite a clus
ter of weeds and bushes more dense than any
they had passed. By good fortune the had
taken shelter there a moment before the ndian
Burst through the bushes, and stood gazing per-
plexedly in either direction. .

As they had hoped, be bent his course rapidly
down-stream, kcepin his gun in readiness for
instant use, and ecring into every place which
mi ht aﬂ'ord she ter to those he sang t.

ut if the movements of the leading savage
gave comfort and hope to the hidden ones, those
of his followers did not. Word was at once
passed that the fugitives were missing, and the
savages divided into groups, part going down
the stream, and as many coming in the direc-
tion of the lovers.

It was certainly too late now to think ‘of any‘

further ﬂight. They had done all that could be
done, and resigning themselves to the. fate that
seemed lnevrtable they awaited the result of the
ludiaus’ search. Yet, even with the gloom of
despair settliniover them, came a ray of hope
to the soul of alph. Those: he must encounter
were not those from whom he had previously
escaped. No doubt these would recognise and
hear him back to their village as a great prize;
but he would still have some time for planning,
and very ossible it seemed that his lucky star
might aga n be in the ascendant. V
These reasonings were founded u n the sup-
position that the Indians would iscover and
take him captive. This supposition proved per-
fectly correct. . ,
A dusky Indian parted the bushes, glanced in,
gave a triumphant grunt, vand beckoned his

companions Soirme Two 9: them. came. and .

Qwert-

m-fn,.-yr

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_movements of the Indians.

24 Reckless Ralph's Risk.

 

after gloating over the helpless condition of their
prisoners. the ﬁrst-comer presented his gun,
saying, in tolerable English:

' Come out, pale-faces. Me take you home.
You chil’en—git lost in big woods 1"

A grunt of satisfaction, quite as near a lau h
as was allowable with the dignity of a fu l-
ﬁedged warrior, broke from the other savages at
this witticism; after which they, too, pre-
sented weapons, and called upon the whites to
come forth.

Knowing that resistance or non-compliance
would not only be useless, but guite likely
to provoke dangerous consequences rain the In-
dians, they complied, and were exultingly seized
by their captors, who raised a note of recall to
their searching brethren. Very soon a dozen
zealous savages had gathered about the party.
They were in raptures over the result of their
search, for they had not only secured the pale
maiden of whom they were in pursuit, but the
young man whom their brothers were looking
for. As in all matters of like moment, guards
were placed over the prisoners, while a council
was held. The only question which arose was,
whether to search for the other party, or repair
at once to their village.

The latter counsel prevailed. They would take
the captives home with them, and wh:n Eik’s
,il‘oot and his companions returned, weary and
crestfallen they would rejoice and boast over
them, ro ucing the two captives which they
hatii ta en, while the son of a chief searched in
Va n.

Having reached this conclusion, six men were
deployed to scout for game and look for any
aims of their companions. The remainder, es-
corting the prisoners, moved in a body, travel-
ing raililidly till near sunset, when they stopped
upon t e margin of a large natural pond, which
had been appointed as a place of rendezvous.

No sooner had they halted than Ralph and his

‘ V companion were bound, and ﬁrmly lashed to

stout saplings. At ﬁrst, the thoughts of an in-
formal auto da fe were very'naturnlly upper—
most; but these were speedily dissipated by the
Having secured
their captives, ﬁshing tackle of every descrip-
tion was roduced, ani with spear and hoo ,
the tinny inhabitants of the pond were assailed.
The greedy savages waited not for culinary lpro-
cesses. or ceremony. Every luckiess ﬁsh w ich
fell into their power was stripped of the most
unpalatable portions, sliced u , and swallowed
with a gusto which shocked t o more civilized
witnesses.

At length one, more considerate or with less
appetite than his fellows, brought a small slice
to each of the prisoners. after which he resumed
his seat in the circle, and ate till the last morsel
had disappeared.

Having disposed of their food, the savages
relaxai the ropes which held the prisoners suf-
ﬁcientl to allow of their lying down, then threw
themse ves upon the bare earth, and silence
reigned over the vast forest.

CHAPTER XII.
somnamo or. NOTHING.
RALPH waited till satisﬁed that all the In-

 

‘  W911) sleeping soundly, when he began to

P

 

work out the possibility of  But he soon
found that any such e ort wou d be vain. The
cords which conﬁned him were of deerskin, well
worn, so that the knots could be tied la the
securest manner. This the Indians had done to
perfection, and after a score of fruitless en—
deavors to loosen hand or foot, Ralph composed
himself to get such sleep as was possible, can.
tioning his companion to adopt the some tpolicy.

Weary and worn as they were, both 0 them
slept very soon, despite the fearful fate which
seemed hanging over them. Sleegng visions
came to them, certainly, some br gmg he
and others winged with despair, but all in a l,
the rest they obtained was very beneﬁcial.

Before midnight they were aroused. and,
upon ﬁining their feet, found that all their
ropes

d been cast off save those upon their

hands, and the Indians stood around, pre

to resume their journey. With weary imbs
and aching hearts the prisoners set forth, wend-
ing their way, hour in and hour out, through
the forest, stumbling over obstacles without
number, meetin with varied detentions, but
never pausing til the full light of day ﬂooded
the forest, awakening the songs of gladness from
thousands of happy-hearted, feathered warblers.

Here they paused for a short rest; but only a
few moments were the allowed the pleasure of
reposin their weari frames, ere they were
dra get on a. sin, by their zealous and exulting
cap rs. Ra ph di ‘not care for himself—he
could endure the severest trials which his In-
dian guards might see ﬁt to impose. But when
he considered that Nancynwal subjected to the
same rigorous treatment, obliged to perform the
same ion , wearying marches, his heart swelled
with in ignation, and he longed to vent a just
retribution upon the inhuman wretches.

Slowly the day were away. Hungry, weary
and scarce able to stand, the heroic Nancy
toiled along, almost ready to stop and meet grim
death itself, rather than dra er sinking frame
further toward a fate—she new not how fear-
ful it might be—she shuddered and sickened at
the very thought. Only the occasional words
which Ralph found opportunity to utter. cheered
her desponding heart. So long as he hoped, she
felt it wrong to quite give way to despa 1'.

Just before dusk they entered the Indian town
again. A gloom. as of death, fell over the
maiden’s spirits—if gloom could be said to cast
ashadow over despair. Up to this momenta
faint thought had haunted her mind that they

might esca or berescued before reachi the
Hil‘l‘age. ut now even this undeﬁned ope
e .

Ralph noticed her mood, and managing to
slip near her side, he muttered:

“ We shall have all the night to get away in—
what more could we ask?"

“You no say anyﬁngl” shouted one of the
Indians, brandishing a hatche as he sprung
toward Ralph. “ You come wi me!”

He grasped the arm, and dragged him to the
other side of the party. Then assuming an air
of grandeur and importance, the braves stalked
forward, paying no attention to the rushing
ﬁuawsﬁand young Indidansﬁgho on;de 

see eprsoners,an c cred or their,
murmurs ' ‘ "

 

 

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Reckless Ralph's Risk. 25

Presently the old chief, Wolf-Slayer, appeared.
The entire procession stopped at his approach,
and waited in silence for is will to e made
known. The old hunter ran his eyes over the
group. They lighted up rceptibly when he
saw the pale, pain-mark features of Nancy
Andrews and a grunt of satisfaction escaped
his lips. 7But when he saw Ralph, and especially
when he noticed the look of coolness and daring
u n the young hunter's face, the brows of the
aide Indian contracted, and he turned fiercely
upon his heel. v

Calling one of the warriors to his side, the
twain conversed several moments, earnestly.

Having satisﬁed his feelings the old chief hur-
ried away, and the party was not long in gain-
ing the midst of the town. Here they scarcely
gassed, half a dozen of the savages leading

alph away, while as many took another direc-
tion with Nancy. The young man endeavored
to follow her with his eyes, but in this he was
unsuccessful, and very soon he realized that
the were separated again, perhaps forever.

he young man was conducted again to the
strong cabin he had occupied upon his former
sojourn. There was an unpleasant look of
familiarity about it, every thing appearing as
it had done when he was placed there before,
save that ample precautions had been taken to.
prevent his escape by the same method.

Very soon, too, he discovered that he was to
be more closely guarded than formerly. Two
fresh braves, whom he had not seen before, were
conducted to the but, and very strict orders

iven them in the jargon of their _peo 1e.
ﬁnowin that nothing cou d be accomplish at

resent, 'halph composed himself to sleep, and
or some hours was quite oblivious to al that
passed in the cabin.

it was dark when he awoke, so dark that for
some minutes he was unable to make out the
presence of his gloomy-husd ards. At length,
a eat-like movement gave imaclew, and he
was enabled to trace the movement of a dusky-
form across the cabin, and back again to his
side. He noticed that the savage moved about
uneasily, as though struggling between duty and
inclination.

Presently he bent over the recumbent form of
his companion, and they changed places, .the
relieved guard settin his gun carelessly against
the wall, and thro g himself beside it"upou
the ﬂoor. The new sentinel bent over and satis-
ﬂed himself that the prisoner was sleepin , then
walked once or twice scram the cabin, ore
taking up his station. Ralph had noticed every
disposition and movement as rfectly as the
Very uncertain light would pe t, and his heart

a to swell w th hope once more.

t was a desperate move. certainly, but the
prize—freedom for himself and Nancy—justiﬁed
any reasonable risk, and he n to censider
how he should gain the end he sought. The gun
of s. also ing guard stood almost within his
reach. The other sentry was careless, and sup-
posed his char fast locked in slumber. So
much was to is advantage. To offset—his
arms were bound behind his back, and all his
efforts thus far had failed toloasen the cords.
True, there was considerable freedom to his
hands, but the knots were most secure.

 

Finally a thought struck him. He had heard
of men crawling backward through their arms,
with hands tied as were his own. He had even
attempted it himself, but, thus far, had never
succeeded. There was sufficient la y to his

arms: possibly he might succeed in 'he gymnas- »

tic operation, and [do it without any noise. Both
conditions were essential to success.

Placing his hands ﬂat upon the earth, Ralph
drew himself up, at a moment when he was not
observed, and found that the attempt was likely
to rove successful. The very slight noise he
in e drew the attention of the guard, who hast-
ened toward him. But before hi eyes could
pierce the gloom the prisoner had resumed his
motionless posture, only moving his limbs and
groaning heavily.

The guard watched him for some moments,
then turned and slowly paced the narrow apart-
ment again. keeping his eyes upon the suspicious
form. And yet, under all this scrutiny, Ralph
slipped his hands over his feet, and found those
useful members in front of him, where he could
proceed to liberate them with his teeth.

Even this was no triﬂing task. The knots had
been drawn very tight by his repeated straining
upon them, and in the darkness he could not
tell when his efforts were rightly directed. But
perseverance and determination ﬁnally tri-
umphed, and one of his bands was freed. A
thrill of joy passed over his frame as this con-
summation was reached and he moved very
cautiously along the her -trodden ground sev-
orali inches before attempting to cast of! the
cor .

He had just thrown aside the ligature, when
a sudden impulse seized the guard, and, running
to the. spot, be bent over the priscner. The
0 ration brought his face so close to that of

4 lph that the latter could see the gleaming of
his eyes and notice the look of curiosity which
mantled his features.

In an instant the captive’s resolution was
taken, but before it could be carried out he fal-
tered momentarily. It seemed repugnant to his
better feelings to act thus treacherously. Only
for a moment did he hesitate. The thought of
Nancy—of his own doom—of the terribly tragedy
at Forest Valley decided him aaain. »

With a quick spring he half-gained his feet,
at. the same time grasping the Indlen’s throat
With both hands, and hurling him ,to the
ground. Of course the savage was utterly un-

repared for an such movement as this, and
fore he reali what strange chance had be-
fallen him, found himself prone upon the earth,
with a vise-like grasp upon his throat. The 1m
dian made a desperate eﬂort ,to free himself,
but his attempts were perfectly useless as far as
regaining his own freedom was concerned. e
bulkier white weighed him down like the ban-

tom of some horrible nightmare. Theo re- '

suit to be feared was the awakening of ﬂies esp-
inglguard, who began to move uneasily.

ota moment’s time was to be lost. Rel h
steadily tightened his grasp, hopin to force t 0
one beneath him into a lasting qu etude before
the other should rouse up. But that was not to
he. The sleeper opened is e es, and taking in

by intuition the state of a airs, sprungto his '

feet, with aloud yell.

 

 

 

Reckleu Ralph’s Rink.

 

One less cool and quick-thoughted than Ralph
would have been lost at once. Nothing but the

romptest action saved his life for a moment.
ﬁelaxiug his grasp upon the one he held, the
young hunter sprung toward the gun, which
still leaned against the wall. The owner made
a similar move at the same moment, but found
himself staggering away from the effect of a
stunning blow delivered by the young ranger.
Before he could recover himself the latter had
possession of the weapon, and was giving a
quieting stroke to the second savage, who
had made a bootless attempt to rise from the
ground,

The contest was now between man and man,
the white having the advantage of being armed.
The other, however, was making vigorous use
of his lungs, and in a very short time Would
bring down the Whole body of Indians to his
assistance. Hither and thither the red-man
aged, avoiding two or three heavy blows which
t e white aimed at him, and continuing to make

’ night hideous with his cries.

Of course such a contest must end, sooner or
later; and. after several futile eﬂ'orts, Ralph
succeeded in bringing down the gun‘stock upon
the head of his late guard. Having thus dis-

of his attendant foes, he sprung to the
door and undid such of the fasteniugs as he
could ﬁnd. At the same time a tramping and
rush without gave him warning that other In
dlans were at hand.

Scarcely, indeed, had he reached the door, ere
it was burst open, and two Indians rushed into
the gloomy hut. Ralph had stepped slightly to
one side, and the two passed without obsorving
him. A third paused in the doorway, seeming
anxious to penetrate the mystery before ad vanc—
ing further. Possibly his doubts may have been
dispelled, certainly his consciousness was, by a
blow from the gun which the white still eld
clubbed.

The Indians heard the sound, perceived that
they had been outwitted, and with howls of
vengeance sprung to the door. One of their

‘ number lay prone with a shattered head, but

the bold hunter had gone. Others Were on the
way, and quickly the news spread that the
white prisoner had escaped.

Although dismay Seized the bravest at this
announcement. they betrayed commendable
zeal, rushing into the forest in all directions,
and keeping up a steady search for hours— it
need hardly be said without success. At length,
weary and disheartened, they returned, to sleep
for a short time, and renew the search again up-
on the morrow. '

Meanwhile, where was the man who had thus
by good fortune more than any merit of his
own, escaped the clutches of his blood -minded
enemies, and thrown the Indian town nto such
a state of excitement?

Knowing that not a moment was to be lost if
he would ain the sheltering forest. Ralph, on
reaching t 0 open air, bounded away between
two huts, and soon found himself safe in the
wooded solitudes. The savages were but just
spreading the alarm, so that he had plenty of
time to adopt any course of action which might
seem most proper. That he could easily secure
his own freedom he had no doubts. Yet, what

 

did personal liberty avail him, if the maiden
whom he loved, and who held the secret of tlmt
terrible mystery. remained behind? Honor,
duty, neceSsity, all demanded that she should he
released, or he remain to share her fate.

Finding a tree which he could readily climh
Ralph perched himself among its branches. an
assumed an easy position. Then he bent his ear
toward the town and listened intently.

“ That is right," he mused. “ They are going
to look for me in the darkness, when they
needn’t think 0’ such a thing as ﬁnding me. By
and by they’ll give it u , and then go about It
again in the morning. hilc they are sleeping
I will attend to the balance of my work.
do not succeed it shall not Le my fault.”

Keeping perfectly quiet while the search pro-
gressed under and about him, the daring hunter
waited till all was again silent. Then slipping
to the ground, he crawled carefully back to-
ward the village, listening as he went for any
movements amon the inhabitants. To ﬁnd the
whereabouts of ancy, and rescue her, if pos-
sible, was now his object.

Soon he reached the rear of a. cabin, the near-
est of a group which he felt sure contained
Nancy. All was dark and silent about it—no
si s of life were there.

he second cabin contained the remains of a
smoldering ﬁre, which lighted it up suﬁiciently
to assure him of the character of its inmates.
Passing thence by two other miserable struc-
tures, which seemed upon the point of falling
down merely from the force of gravitation he
paused in the rear of another, built much more
strongly, and in every way larger and superior
to any he had yet seen. Instantly the feeling
came over him that he gazed upon the rison of
Nancy Andrews. To conﬁrm or dispe his sus-
picion was ﬁrst to be attempted.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
A DISCOVERY.

CLOSE to the walls of the Indian dwelling
stood Ralph. peering. listening. hoping. There
were no sounds to be heard within, no light that
he had yet discovered, nor an si us of living
beings. But the walls were rm y built, the
door, which was strong. was closed and fasten-
ed upon the inside. Here were two additional
reasons for supposing that the place was a
prison.

With some difﬁculty he found a narrow aper-
ture near the ground, and aEplying his eye to
this he peered into the dar some recesses l-e-
yond. For some time he was unable to distin-

ish anything, and was upon the point of mov-
ing away, when a glow, as from a single coal,
met his eye. Steadin he watched, and soon one
after another appeared, revealing the outlines
of a savage, stirring the embers of an almost ex.
tinct ﬁre. .

Having collected the few coals which re-
mained, the Indian added some light brushwood,
and soon a cheerful glow Eervaded the apart-
ment. The savage then wal ed away, and bent
over a couch of skins, upon which a peered a
prostrate form. Apparently satisﬂel at what
he saw, the brave gave a grunt, and turned back

‘I I’m-ed“

I

 

“hit!

an,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reckles- Ralph's Risk.

"2'?

 

to the ﬁre, raising and carefully examining a
gun standing in one corner.

Ralph was now satisﬁed that he had discovered
the whereabouts of Nancy, but how should he
acquaint her with his presence? How should her
rescue be effected?

Turning to seek some mode of communication,
he glanced at the eastern horizon. To his sur-
prise the first faint tinges of dawn were percep-
tible along the sky. It was certainly too late to
effect anything that night—he would only seek
to inform her of his freedom and presence, to

inSénre her with hope.

ontinued searc ﬁnally revealed a small
aperture quite near where her head must lie,
and applying his lips to this, he gently breathed:

“ Nancy 1’

Waiting a moment, he fancied there was (I.
all ht movement within, and willin torun all
ris 5, he repeated the name a tri e more dis-
tinctly than before. For a moment he was left
in doubt, then a gentle voice, which he would
have recognized anywhere, whispered:

u Ralph!"

“ I am here, Nancy—I am free 1” he whis-
pered. “ But it is almost morning; I cannot
get you away tonight. Can you remain here
safe y another day i” -

“ I think so.”

“ Then make the effort, and you shall be re-
leased with the cominglof night again. I must
go now—the safety of 0th of us depends upon it.
Use any excuse to gain tine, and do not sleep
till I come to you.” _ . _

The maiden gave him some hints, informin
him that the cabin in which she was conﬁne
was the dwelling of Wolf-Slayer and his family
—that one guard was kept over her constantly
and all the rigor that an apparent friendship and
regard could devise thrown about her move-
ments. She also described to him the construc-
tion of the building, and the only probable way
of aining the interior. I

ﬁaiph listened attentively, and then bade her
a brief farewell. He was not a moment too soon.
Zealous Indians were upon the lookout, and in
ﬁve minutes after he left the lace, they were
astir, preparing for a thoroug pursuit of the
escaped prisoner. Of course t ey had little sus-
picion that the individual in question was so
near them.

Knowing that the pursuit would be carried on
chieﬂy toward Forest Valley. Ralph bent his
steps into the forest in an opposite direction.
This course, although it might ring him in con-
junction with other bodies of savages would
take him away from the vicmity of his most
deadly enemies. And yet he would be in a
Situation to return upon the following night,
and redeem the promise given his beloved.

He walked a long distance before daylight be-
an to reveal the outlines of the forest about
im; so far, indeed. that he began to lcok around

for some secluded spot in which to pass the long
hours before darkne8s would again cover the

earth. I

He found it at length; a broad, masswe pile
of rocks, pierced with many 0 nings, where
men might have been conceal from boyhood
with very little danger of discovery. Into one
of these caverns Ralph crawled, but drew back

. «M

 

as a huge rattlesnake sounded its note of alarm
and slowly withdrew. The suspicion that he
might be going into a large den of vipers was
far from pleasant.

Observation, however, convinced him that the
Veteran he had disturbed was sole occupant; so,
after a little hesitation, he entered the recess,
placed a stone in the hole through which the
reptile had disappeared, and proceeded to take
possession. A natural projection in one corner
afforded him a comfortable seat, and here he
sat for some time, planning and reﬂecting u ion
the stran e circumstances which had befa len
him for t e past two days.

Noon came and passed. Ralph felt satisﬁed
that if the Indians had intended to make any
search in his direction they would have reached
the lodge long before. Reasoning thus he sallied
out, and sought for such roots and herbs as
would serve to satisfy his hunger. It was no
pleasant task, but he could assuage the demands
of nature in no other way. True the no he
had brought from the Indian town was aded,
and he might have shot somethin with the
single bullet it contained. But in t at case he
would have been almost weaponless, and who
could say how valuable a bullet might prove to
him int c propoed enterprise of the coming

niglht.

avin satisﬁed his inner man as far as pos-
sible, Ra ph returned to his cave, and sitting
down upon the stone he had formerly occupied,
“mused till he fell asleep.

When he awoke be perceived that the time
for action was near. The sun was already low
behind the distant hills, and by the time he
could reach the scene of operations it would be
quite dark enough for his purpose. Shaking
more priming into the pan of his piece, and
shutting it very carefully, he turned his face in
the proper direction.

It was uite dark before Ralph reached the
vicinityo the Indian town. As there was no
moon during the early part of the night. he
could have no more opportune time for early»
ing out his purpose, if other things should prove
favorable.

His mind was somewhat troubled, as he near.-
ed the place, to observe that a crowd was

gathered very near the building he wished to '

enter, engaged in some mysterious rite, the na-

ture of which he did not comprehend. He was,

ﬁlled with the liveliest fears for a time, but on
reaching the vicinity. which the darkness en-
abled him-to do without observation, he saw
that the performance bcded no ill to Nancy.
The idea naturally arose—could he not rescue
her while the attention of the Indians wasdl-
rooted in another channel! The on position
was speedily negatived when he crep beneath
the walls of the building, and peered in upon
the inmates. Nancy was there, 9 and sor-
rowlng. With her was the In ian princess,
whose love Ralph had rejected, and a sentinel.
The latter, with a'gun in hand, divided his at-
tention between the ceremony in front, and the
prisoner beside him. ~ .
So much Ra] h saw at a glance and then he
glided away 11' eashadow. He ad partial]
ormed a. lan in his own. mind, which, thong
bold and angerous, promised success.

I

 

 

 

 

28

Reckless Ralph’s Risk.

 

The dwelling of Wolf-81a or had been con-
structed'after civilised mode 5, in so far, that it
had one door and a window-the latter being a

dare hole cut through the wall and closed in
w nter by replacing the. original logs. In the
present case this window was open, affording
wssible ingress to the sleeping apartment of

olf-Slayer; that individual having divided
his somewhat extensive domicile into three
rooms upon the ground, by partitions of poles.

Into the department reserVed for Wolf-
Slayer’s especial use, Ralph quietly made his
wa , concealing himself beneath a pile of robes
an furs. Of course he had chosen a position to
observe everything passing in the outer or main
apartment.

More than an hour elapeed before the pow-
wow without ceased, and then the crowd gradu-
ally began to disperse. Wolf—Slayer entered his
dwelling, clothed in his robes of state, and order-
ed the princess to retire, which shedid, with a sul-
len frown. Nancy“ was then ordered to her couch
of skins, and the guard instructed to make sure
that she did not stir therefrom during the night.
Then the surly chief entered his own apartment,
fastened down the bearskin which served as a
door, threw aside his royal robes, and stretched
himself upon the couch.

Silence soon reigned within and around the
building, and Ralph realized that the most op-
portune moments for etting away from the
place were passing. Sti l he did not dare move
as yet, for he had ngfroof that Wolf-Slayer 01*
Sleeping Fawn h yet succumbed, to the
drowsy god. He had no he es now savo in per-
fect success: failure wou d certainly bring
death to both himself and her he sought to
save.

Anxioust he watched the movements of the
sentinel without, wishing that he might prove
carelessvor indifferent. His wishes were met.
Soon the watcher placed his gun inacoruer,
and busied himself in pacing the room, keeping
aneye upon the form of Nancy to make sure
that she did not transgress the commands of
Wolf-Slayer.

At length came the sounds for which Ralph
bad listened so long. The chief was asleep, and
snoring soundly. So far as he was concerned,
’ there was now comparativoly nothing to fear.
The partition between the waiting white and the
room of Sleeping Fawn was uite thin, and by
listening closely he could hear er steady breath-
ing between the sonorous blasts of her father.
She, too, was insensible to all about her. There
remained but the sentinel to dispose of.

This was no ordinary task. Of course the
slightest noise would defeat the entire plan,
Caution, patience, daring were required in ex-
traordinary degrees.

A thought struck Ralph. Carefully emerg-
ing from his hiding-place, he threw Wolf-
Slayer’s royal robe over his shoulders, and
all pod into the apartment which contained the
su ject of his schemes. The sentinel’s back was
toward him at the moment, and slipping into a
dark corner, beside the heav ﬁreplace, he
waited an o portune moment or the carryin
out of his p . While thus waiting, his han
touched something gold and hard. t was a.
hatchet—the very thing he needed for the fatal

,

 

but necessary blow. Carefully disengaging it
he waited for the moment.

It was very dark in the apartment now;
Ralph could scarcely discern the form of his
victim. The latter seemed to notice the fact,
and hastened to replenish the ﬁre, which was
the only means of light. The time was at hand.
As he bent over, his head was within reach of
Ralph’s arm. Silently the weapon whirled
through the air, and almost as silently the In-
dian pitched forward upon his face.

The hunter could not bear the idea of such de-
liberate murder, and had struck but a stunning
blow; yet so effectually had it been given that
there seemed no prospect of the savage’s raising
an immediate alarm. Ralph proceeded to secure.
the gun and ammunition of the fallen sentry,
tied his belt about him, and stocked it in due
form with knife and hatchet.

Then—and how his heart beat—he apSroaohed
the place where Nancy was lying. eath or
deliverance was at hand, which was it to be?
He found that the maiden was already cogni-
zant of his movements, and rose to her feet at
his approach. Her frame trembled violently
under the excitement of the moment, and she
led the way toward the door, remarking:

"Come, come. Do not let us lose a moment
in this dreadful placel"

Ralph opened the door very cautiously, and
succeeded in closing it again, after they had
passed through, without any disturbance. They-
were now in the epen air, and all was silent
about them. Already they tasted the bliss of
freedom.

“ We will take the most direct route possible,”
said he, after they had left the Indian town he
hind. “If they do not discover our ﬂight till
morning, and it is hardly probable that they
will make any pursuit be ore that time, we
shall get such a start as ought to take us to
Forest Valley in advance of them.” '

“Have no fear for me ” ur ed Nancy. “I
am rested and strong. cor d travel home
without making any pause if it were necessary.
Anything to escape these dreadful savages l”

Steadin onward throu h the long night hours
they pushed their way, coping a bee-line to-
ward home, so nearly as it was possible to
trawl. When the stars faded away, and day-
light came, they were far on their way, and still
no sign of pursuit. Hope rose in their bosoms.
Fortune seemed to have selected them as the
special recipient of her favors.

Having a plenty of ammunition, Ralph shot
some game, and makingalittleﬂre in a secluded
spot, they cooked a palatable breakfast. This
disposed of, with a relish and heartfelt thanks
for their safety thus far. they paused for a short
time to rest, before again resuming their tedious-
journey.

 

pFIAPTER XIV.
SATISFIED.

IN a. short time the twain set forward again,
and although the journey before them was long 3
it was cheerfully undertaken. Surely, each 0
them had sufﬁcient cause for thank!

That their lives had been spared through so

 

 

 

 

“VP—"m‘ 

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yaw“.

,‘Tﬁﬁf

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.3. a.“ ,

q

Reckless Ralph’s Risk. ’ 2:. ‘1

 

many dangers and adventures, was certainly
wonderful.

For some hours they traveled, and every one
brought them nearer t 9 place they sought. The
sun had mounted high before they paused again
to rest, On a fallen tree they sat, and talked of
the joyful moment when they should reach
home, and their w11d adventures be ended.

Scarcely had they resumed their way when

Ralph paused, his quick eye having detected
moving forms through the trees in advance. He
gave a single glance, and then pointed them out
to Nancy.
“ See,” be remarked, indicating them; “ there
come the men who suppose their sacred duty is
to hunt me down and slay me. They have even
gone so far as to organize themselves With a
view to scouring the forest until I am found.”

“ But they cannot harm you now,” said
Nancy, with some show of alarm.

“Certainly not, Nancy dear. But do you
step behind that tree, while I advance a little,
and you shall see the manner in which they
greet me.”

The maiden did as‘requested, hardly knowing
how or why, Ralph then advanced several
paces, and paused as he was noticed and eagerly
pointed out by the leader of the party. Sev-
eral of them at once set up a shout, and rushed
toward the young man, who, to their surprise.
did not turn or ﬂinch at their approach. Fear-
ing some stratagem, they came on more can-v
tiously, and were only withheld from ﬁring by
the hope of taking him alive.

Finally they had approached so near that half
a dozen riﬂes bore upon him point-blank, and
then the crowd pressed eagerly up. William
Rufus, as ever, was foremost, and his manner,
now that so decided a success had crowned his
efforts, was jubilant in the extreme.

“ Ha! my ﬁne fellow, you won’t try any more
of your ﬁne gamesupon us. We’ve got ye now
in full daylight, and if anything is goin’ tew
interfar’ we’ll put a hunk 0’ lead threw yer

- karkiss. We’ve bed apesky long hunt fer ye,

right in the middle of the season, and 10sta
’tarnal many good days’ works. But, we’s
bound tew hev’ ye, if we’d ’a’ lost every day

‘i - this summer. Sech a confounded scapegrace as

 

you wan’t goin’ loose, nohow, to stab people in
the back in the night!”

“.My good sir," said Ralph, somewhat sarcas-
tically, “ all your trouble has been for nothing.
I never committed this deed of which you have
seen ﬁt to accuse me.”

“That is your story for it- but it’ll want one
or two witnesses to prove it. ’

“ I have the best witness in the world—the
only one besides the murderer who saw the

' blow struck. She will tell you who is the guilty

one.”
“ And who may this ‘ she ’ happen to he?" de~

‘ mended Rufus. perhaps suspecting the truth.

Ralph did not reply in words, but turned and

V . motioned to Nancy, who had been an anxious

witness of all that had transpired. The maiden
came forward quickly, for she had feared some

' violence to her lover. As she gained his side:

“This is my witness!” he said, proudly.

' " You cannot ask for a better.”

"Young woman, we want you to tell the

 

truth about this matter,” said Rufus. who ap~
penred somewhat crestfallen. “ We want spe-
shil jestice done, and the man that killed yer
father shall suffer for it—no matter who he is.
Now don’t be ni‘enrd to tell the truth all out;
’clansefe’ve spent our time jest to clear up this
t ing.

“1 am ready to tell you all I know,” replied
Nancy, with something of bitterness, as she
thought of the injustice they had done to her
lover. "But it seems to me you would have
shown more of the spirit of gentlemen had you
waited till reason and evidence condemned,
before you undertook to execute an innocent
person. Shame upon you—ion especially, Wil-
iam Rufus, who seem to ave beenamaster-v
spirit of the mob!”

All but the person addressed slunk back,
abashed by the heroic maiden’s words. He
pressed forward, and in the smoothest of tones,
began:

“You see, Nancy, we have no laws away
here, and if we had them, nobody, reel] , to ut
1em in force. So we bed a meetin’ o’ t e to key,
and banded ourselves for mnteral pertecshin—

“Is this a specimen of your protection?” she
interrupted him to inquire. " .

“ Wal never mind, Miss Andrews,” he said,
irritate at the aspect atfairs were taking,“ we
understand all of that. Now if you’ll tell about
that murder—”

“That I will do if you will give your at
tention, and only interru 1: me to ask ertinent
questions. I am not in t 9 habit of ad ressinga
mo . ’

“ Go ahead, miss,” broke in a. burl frontiers-

man. “ and if he don’t keep mum we’l shot oﬂ his '

breathin’-pipesi”
All Ipromised attention, and then Nancy re-
lated or story:

“ On that fearful night I was sleeping sound-
ly, as usual, when I fancied one of the boards

beside my bed creaked. I started up to look for ’

the cause of this singular noise, when, whom
shouldI behold but a stealth Indian in my
chamber! 1 would have calle for assistance,

but before I could do so his heavy hand was A

placed over my mouth, effectually preventing
an outcry,and nearly smothering me. ‘Now

you dress ,’ he said savagely, ‘ or me kill you. _

Elk’s Foot want you for his bride.”

Ralph gave a perceptible start as the Indian’s
name was mentioned, but uttered no word.
When previously relating her adventures, Nanc
had not given the Indian’s name in Englis
dress.

“I was sore] frightened,” the speaker went
on, “ but dare not disobey, since he inted to
a knife and tomahawk in his belt, an threaten-
ed my life. I did not think he could leave the
place. and was not so utterly frightened as I
should have been had I but known what was be-
fore me. I dressed hastily and when all in
clothes was secured, he led me downstairs, sti l
whis ring threats or death it I made any noise.

“ n reaching the ﬂoor, a second Indian
sprung up, and glided away to the bedroom
where my father was sleeping. I should have
attempted to cry out now, regardless of my own
fate, but the Indian who had me in charge pre-

vented my making any noise.‘ I heard a maﬁa, "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

prepared for any onset.

wa
' Ra

33 V Reckless Ralph‘s Risk.

 

and presently saw the two ﬁgures struggling to«
gether. Soon my father’s strength Seemed to fail,
and I saw the Indian deal him blow after blow
with a knife, till he sunk to the ﬂoor. Then the
murderer threw down the wea on, and ordered
his tool (for the master-villain found to be Elk’s
Foot himself,) to take me out of the place, and
with one or two warriors, to take me home, and

, keep me there till he came.

“ I was immediately hurried off, and knew
neither rest or sleep till I reached the Indian
town. There I was treated kindly, and an In-
dian beauty, Sleeping Fawn by name, used
ever exertion to induce me to wed with her
bro er, who was heir to one-half the tribe in
his own right. But I steadil refused, and ﬁnal—
ly succeeded in escaping. or two days and
nights 1 wandered about inthe forest, sometimes
right and sometimes wrong, but managing to
keep clear of the Indians. Finally. I fell in with
Ralph, and after another captivity ﬁnd es-
cape we were going back to demand reparation
for t ewrong you had done him.”

“ But about the knife,” said Rufus, who had
determined not to be convinced.

“ Of course I do not know,” she re lied. “ It
does not matter. I saw the man t at did the
deed, and saw him throw the knife, with which
it was done in one corner. The man was Elk’s
Fog," but I know nothing of the weapon he
us .

“ You can swear to all this, I reckini”

“ If my word is not sufﬁcient, take me before
any rson authorized to administer an oath,
and will swear to all I have stated.”

At that moment one of the men, who had been
casting anxious glances around while listening
to the maiden’s story, uttered a horriﬁed ex—
clamation, and pointed into the forest.

“ y George 1” he said, “the Indians are down
on us, sure as fate!” -

All looked in the direction in which he had
pointed, and sure enough, within long riﬂe range,
appeared a body of Indians, considerably out-

... numbering the whites. They wereled on b Elk’s
' ‘ Foot, who seemed foamin with rage, an ready

for any desperate act. 5 followers came on
at a full run, and it seemed their intention to
take the whites wholly by surprise.

But the latter had come fully armed, and were
Quickly unslinging
riﬂes and crouching behind a large fallen tree
and such standinghones as presented, the party
were ready for t 6 contest before the savages
were ﬁfty yards nearer.

“ Take the the gal and fall back out o’ the
y,” said one of the men, earnestly addressing

ph. “ Ye hain’t no gun, and ain’t o’ no ’count
here.”

“ Nancy is quite as safe here if she will keep
behind a tree,” said Ralph, “ and I shall not
leave till I am forced to. Some of you may be
ﬁpugded, in which case his gun must not lay

e.

' “ Good for you!” was the earnest return.

In a moment more the conﬂict was raging.
The Indians advanced rapidly till the first volley
from the whites laid three or four of their num-
ber upon the ground, when they took to trees,
and opened a scattering ﬁre. Both parties were
now playing at the same game, but it was very

)

 

soon a parent that the whites were having the
best 0 it. The savages had but few guns, and
these they could not use with the Skill which
characterized the whites. One after another
fell, killed or wounded, chieﬂy the former.

Presently a tall Indian burst from the cover
on the right and sprung across with rapid
strides to the left. He had nearly gained one of
the larger trees, when a riﬂe cracked, and he
plunged forward, falling in a kind of heap upon
the earth.

Immediately, the savages raised a despairing
cry, and presently the survivors were seen hast—
ening away by the most covered routes. The
cause was certainly mysterious to the whites,
but Ralph soon threw light upon it.

“ That Indian, who fell yonder, is Elk‘s Foot,
the murderer of J ehonikam Andrews and sever—
al of your best citizens. He has fallen and the
balance of his band have ﬂed. But he may not
be dead, yet. You can, perhaps, learn from his
own lips the Indian’s agency in that affair.”

The impulsive men sprung from their places
of concealment, and to the spot where Elk’s Foot
had fallen. He was not dead, nor did he seem
severely injured. The riﬂe ball had broken his
leg, and that, in connection with his wounded
arm, rendered him quite helpless. He regarded
the victorious whites with a ﬁendish expression,
but preserved silence until questioned. Then be
readily confessed the share he had taken in that
brutal transaction, and gloried in it, after the
manner of his people. '

“See here, Ralph,” said the same tall back-
woodsman who had previously urged the execu-
tion of Elk’s Foot, “I was wrong all the time—
I want to ax yer pardin for what I done ag’in’
ye; I sw’ar, I tho’t ’twar all right i”

“ And so with me.”

“ And me."

Thus one and another urged, and readily the
hunter forgave them all, shaking the hand of
each as it was extended. Then a procession was
formed, and with Ralph and Nancy in the cen-
ter they reached the little village of Forest Val-
ley just at dark. Of course, every one was
pleased at the return of Nancy, and thankful to
ﬁnd that their suspicions of Ralph’s guilt had
been unfounded.

True love and honor were ﬁnally rewarded,
and the silken cords of matrimony eventually
bound Ralph and Nancy together in the
holiest and dearest of earthly relations. That

they lived happy and prosperous we have. '

 

 

 

 

abundant evidence from the records of the  -‘

times.
a In IND.

 

 

 

i
e x ’
BEADLE s BOY S LIBRARY.
Published Every Saturday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cantu.
it 1 ilgoirgron’tgr, the Boy Scout 0! the Great North Woods. By 69 Thu-‘ethgtllsxdlzlrtllllt; or. A Yankee lloy Among the Ruuluun.

2 Bllil’alo Bill, from Boyhood to Manhood. [ly (‘uL P. ingrulmm.

3 Kit Carson King trot-idea. 3- Albert w. Am...

ft, 4 Gordon Llllle, the lioy-lnterrretni'ol'the l’nwueel. By Mnjnr
H. B. Sloddurd.

5 Bruin Admnu, Old Griuiy‘n Buv Pnrd. By C-il. I’. lngrhhniu.

ti Deadwood Dick us It Roy. By Edward L. Wheeler.

? Wild Bill. the Pistol Print-e. By Col. Prentiss ingrnhnln.

ii The Prairie Ranch. By Joseph E. lilulgci‘, Jr.

9 Rovlng Joe: The Hillary ul‘n “ Bord r Iiuy." iiy A.Il. Post.
10 Text“ Jack. the Mnttnng King Hy Col. t‘runtire lnurnhnln.
ll (ihurley Skyiurk. A Story of School-day Senide nnd College

Cnporl. Bv Mnjor H. il. Stoddard.
12 Mnrlposn ur-h. By Joseuh E. iindgar, Jr.
18 Rovan lien. By John J. Mnrehnll.
1‘3 8 ring ﬁteel, King of the Buih. By J. E. Bndtrer. Jr.
\ln \ lilo-Awake George, the Bn ' Pioneer. By Ed. Willett
[6 The Bo znrtl. llv Burrv lugznlil.
17 Peter upper-gran, the Greeuhorn from Gnthnin. By Nonh

u .
18 Adrift. on the l’rnlrle. nnd Amnteur lluntorn on the
Buﬂulo Run o. By 011 Comner.
19 The Fortune iunter; or, Roving Jno us Miner, Cowboy,
Trapper uni‘ Hunter. By A. ll. Post.
20 Trn per Tom, the Wood Imp. By T. C. Hnrhnngh.
$1 Eel ow llair, the Boy Chief of the PBWIIch. by Colonel
Prentln in 'ruhulu.
92 The Snow rail. By T. C. iinronngh.
23 Old Grizzl Adnmn, the Bohr ’l‘mner. lly Dr. Frnnk Powell.
2 oodn an Water-n. Ily Cupt. Fr drrick “'itlitttkvr.
55 A Rolling Stone: incidento in the Cnreer on Sen null Land
of Col. Prentiss lugrnhtun. Hy Wm. R. Eyeter.
26 Roll River Rovers. Ily C. Dunning Clark.
27 Pluzn and l’luln; or, \\ ild Adventures of“ Burlukin Sum."
‘ ﬂirty. Sum. S. Hull.) lly Cui. l’. inzriihnin.
$8 '1‘ e Sword Prim-e. 'Ine Ronnntlc Lil’e ui‘Col. )Iouitery.
By Cu t. Frederick Wltitt her.
29 Snow- hoe Torn. Ily l‘. C. Ilnrhnngh.
80 I’uul tie Luoy. the French Bqut Clnmner. By C. D. Clark.
81 Round the Camp Flre. Bv .lmeph E. Badger. Jr.
82 “lihite Beaver, the ludiuu Medicine Chief. Bv Col. Prentiss
ngrnhiuu.
88 The Boy Uruonder. hy (hint. Fred. Whittnker.
8; The Chane ot' the Grant White Stag, mid, Camp and
Cunoe. By C. Dunniu Clark.
85 old Tur Knuckle rind in Buy Chumr. By R. Sterlinch.
80 The Ito-hing Dra on: or. The Story uf Gim- Guam A.
Cueler. By \Atl'i. Fre . Whittaker.
llnwk George. lly Col. Prentiss Iugrnhnm.
Boy Exllen of ﬁlberlu. By T. C. Hurhuugh.
The Young Rear llnntere. Hy .tlorrlr Redwlnz.
Smart Sim. the Lad with u Level Hen-l. By Edwnr-i Willott.
The Sa-ttler’o Son. By Edward S. Eilln.
\ant For noon‘n Crulne. By C. Duunlnt! Clark.
Riﬂe and evolver. lly Cgit. Fred. Whittaker.
' The Lost Boy Whalers. v T. C. Hnrbnugh.
5 Broueo Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Col. P. lngrnhum.
‘. 46 Dick, the Stowaway. By Chorlee Morris.
é. 4? The Colorado Boy” or, Lite on an Indigo Plantation. Bv
. Joseph E. Hedger. Jr. ”
48 The l’umpus Hunter-g or, New York Boy: In Buollol
I Ayrel. By T. C. Hurlmutzh.
r a. 4'! The Advouturoue Life of Nebraska Charlie. lly
Col. Prentiss Inxmhnm.
50 Jack, llnrry'nnd Tom. the Three Chmnplon Brothel'l. Ily
Cnpt. Fnd. hittnker.
51 The Young Lond-Lubher. By C. Du mini; Clnrk.
6‘) The Boy Detectlveo. By ’1‘. C. Hnrhnu h. I
5.8 Hone-t ﬂurry; of. The Country Boy Adrillt In the (ilty. By
Chnrlu Morris. 4 ‘
54 Olnlli'ornlu Joe. the Mynterioue Plulnlmln. By Col. Pram]...

.V . nlzruhtun.
‘ i 65 Tip Tree-e1. the Floater. By Edward Willelt.
; 56 The“. Show Iluntero; or, Winter in the “'ooill. lly Barry
. ‘ ~ it often.
5? llnrr Some". the Sailor Bo anicinn. B S. W. P .
V ml The uventurous Life 0 Captain Jayek, the Eagle;
5” I‘lioy. T Colt.l Przilllllllliigﬂl‘ﬂrﬂ'l‘ll. I
. "no, m ielue yotehlnoe. BChrleM l.
60 The \ ouné Troll llunten; or, New Yg'rlr lira;- in 
_ .‘ Tknndl.‘ By 1;). Hrbnugh. Th '
0 er nu em or e Col r l '
Land. Joteph E. llrldirel‘, Jr. 0 M o no" In Elephant
69 Doctor nrver, the “Evil Spirit" or the Plainl. 'By Col.
Bll’renlilllalingruhnm.
no or» Bill the Bnudit Wrecker. By Roger Sm h k.
a Youn nick Tulhoti or, A Boy: Rough and 'l‘uinblerFli‘ii‘hl.
from err Yorlr. to Cnillornin. B A. W. Aiken.
g: $11193?! Pillo‘tr or. The Inlnnd rocker. By Col. l’. lngmhmn.
e Iert
‘ V By Chnl" Morgyert‘ or, Stowaway Dick Among the Aral».

, 0? Texas Ohlrlle, the Boy Ranger. By Col. Prentlu Ingrnlnnu.
y‘ 68 Little .l‘llilet or. The Young ﬁr Hunter-e. By Coptoin “ Bruin "

 

.43..-

 

taunt-mean
u—Ocl’l
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T0 Pony the Cowboy: or, The Young Marrhnll’n Ruld. It;
Mayor H. ll. Stoddurd. Exicout. * .
Tl Rn Rob-art and III: Rear. By Cuptulu “ Bruin " Adm-n. ‘

72 The Ice Ele hunt. lly Capt. Frederick “'lilltaker.
T3 The Youu A cone-Hunters. By William 11. Mlllmlnl.
T4 The Boy oral-Fluhern. lly Razor Sturbueii.
75 it'evolver Billy, the Boy Ranger of’l‘uxnl. By Col. Prentln
iIKI‘ﬂ nun. ‘ .
Hi The Condor Klllertr. By 1‘. C. Hnrhuutzli. 
?? Lud Lionhceln the Ynnng'l‘iger Fighter. By Roger Slurhm'lt. . '
TB lt‘lutbtmt Fro . By Edwnrd Willett
7!) Boone, the Hunter. Ry Cu thin F. Whittaker.
80 Kentut-k Ben, the Lou; l ille ofth Cnerndnl. By ILSturbuck.
81 The Kit Briton Club. By T. C. Hnrbnugh.
52 Little "melt the lloy Guide. By Hurry Rinmpiid.
83 Poll Bah, t in Rm‘lilrll Rldrr. Ry (inl. l‘. inmhnm.
34 Cup uiu Fly-h -Nli§ht. llv Jovph E. "mill-I". 4"-
l'ls’i Coptulu Rulp . the ’unng Exninrrr. liy C. I). Clark.
86 Little Ilun Rookie.
8‘? The Menu erle II on. By )lnj, ll. Grenville.
88 Tho Boy ' rump»; ur. Lil's Among the (Bipolar. By J. M.
Hoffman.
89 ‘Lonmthore LUe. lly C. D. Fliirk. .
90 Roving Riﬂe, t ueier'n Lillie Scent. By T. C. Hnrbnuyh. ‘  ’f
ill (Dragon Junh, the Wizard liiil '. By Roger Stnrhuck. ' '
92 Hurricane Kit. lly A. I“. Ilnli. ‘
98 Julnpl Jnke, the Colorndo Cirrus Buy. By B. Bnmhrtdge.
94 Num Hp , llm Iirundhnrn Buy, lly Ed. Villlett. '
95 Mon-o

   

 

a
.5
5.
5‘
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E
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It

to h‘lherlu: or,A Ynnkee Boy to the Roman. By
l'llttl'lrl Morris.

96 Fluhtln Fred. By T. C. Hnrhnnrh. I

it? Cruluo o the Flyuwuy. liv C. Dunning Clark.

is The Roy H Hunter. ity Mu). H. u. Sindd-rd.

m The White ‘Izcn. lly Cunt. Chttflel Hmvurd.

(ill The Snow-Shor- 1‘rnll. liy 5"- Gwriw Rhllhbont-

01 Mnriulto, the ()ttnwu Girl. lly Edwnrrl S. Ellie.

02 The Flynwuy Afloat. By C. Dunning Clark.

08 Put Mulloney'n Adventures; or. Silver Tongue the De. .
rutnli Queen. lly C. 1.. Edwards. mm

04 The Roy l’rouneutor. By Roger Sturbnch. I f

05 Mluonoe. the anl \t‘iieh. By Edwin Entemn.

0 he Boy Crulnorl. By Edwuril Willett.

07 The Border Rovers. By J. Milton Huffman.

08 Ala-kn. the Wn i‘AQimeu. llv Cunt. Howlll’ii Lincoln.

09 Chrlstian .Illn| the White Mnu'n Friend. By Ed. 5. Ellis

[0 lucky Joe. the Buy Avenger. Ily .i. .\l. Hoil'mun.

l 0 Border Gunmuker. By Jamel L. Bowen.

llnnded Pete. By Juleilli E. [in-hair. .Ir. ‘

he River Riﬂes. By Capt. J. F. C. Adamo.

Alone on the l’lalnn. B ~ Edwnrd Willett. ‘

b‘ilvor Ilorn, and Hill Rifle ‘Ircdruth. Ilv Roger Shrink. ’

Exluloltu oi’ Ilezekluh Smith, the Buchwaodlmon. By .

Einersnn Roiinmn.
The Young Muetnngere. By 0- Dill"!an Civi-
oltl Trout-z 7. tin- iloy itlvnla.  Bnrry Rinegold.
Center lihut. the White Crow.‘ y 'l‘. C. llnrhnugh.
A Hot- Trnll. Ry Clnirlel Iiiorril.
lluntor l’nrd lieu. By Roger Sturhuclr.
The qunlmuux' Queen. By G. Waldo Browne.
'llm, the [icy Ai-ruhnt. By Charles Mm‘ril.
gueeu Rel-Ila. the Border Girl. By Henry J. Thoma.
om Tabor, the Buy Fugitive. lay Hurry itinggoid.
Mink Coot. the [lentil-Shot. lly “I. E. Rodger, Jr.
The Beer "unto". llv J'ohn .i. hlurlltnll. L
“Wolf-Cam or, The Night-Howl“ ol‘ the Fire-Ludo. By
(hint. Chins. Hnwnrﬂ.
ﬁllveropnr: or, The Mountain Heroine. ByEdwnrd Willetl.
Kort-ton. Qu an o the Plalnn. By Percy B. St. John.
'lltnh. thu (‘hlld Spy. By George Glenmn.
he Inland Trapper. liy (‘dmrlel Hownrrl.
he Foreut Specter. By Edward Willott.
“ll Nat. the I'rouper. By Win. it. Eyltor.
The Silver- llugle. By Lieut. Col. anelton.
The Prnlrie 'l‘ronver. By C. Dunning Clark.
The Antelope Bov- Bry Geo. L. Aiken.
Ell Long Shot: or. The hwur Guide. By Capt. Com-tack.
89 Colonel (‘ror-krtt, the Bear Kine. By C. E. mile.
40 0M l'egn, the hintilitdiiwor. Ev Lewl- \V. Clrlon.
4| The Glunt Hunter. lly Hurry Hunrd.

I to Block Panther. the Hnll’ Blood. By J. E- NW.
148 Oar-Ion, the Guide. By Llent. J. H. Rundolpn.
144 Kent, the minister. Ry Edwurd s. Elite.
145 Bill Robhimn, Hunter. By Edward Willott.
148 The Half-Breed tfli-nl. By Jon. E. Badger, Jr. -
147 The Munketl A veulcr. By Col. I’rentln Inzrahtnn. ‘
Beudle’l Boy's: Library in for I in by all New-denim, ﬁve
centl per copy, or not by mail on receipt of Ill cent! ouch.
BEAIDLE AND ADAMS, Publisher-II,
til! thuen Street New York.

 

 

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unngmﬂme..-u— urn-n;

ﬁxaﬁﬂﬂ—OQ I‘MG
Edd:

unwaaawam

 

 

BEADLE’S BOY’S LIBRARY.

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

 

143 Nat, ills Trapper and Indian Fighter.
149 The Elk Demon; or, The Giant Brothers.
rbnugh.

150 The Boy Mustang-Hunter; or. Eaulalle, the Beautiful
Auinzon. By'Frederic Whittaker.

151 Frank Yates, the Young Trapper; or, Mountain Knts’s
Warning. By Josreph E, Badger, Jr.

152 Wild Raven. the Scout. iiy Oil Coomes.

158 lliyﬁsx-Cap; or, Four Trappers’AmonK the Sioux. By Paul

i I.

By Paul J. Prescott.
By T. C.

164 The Champion Texan Rider: or, Red 3quan and the
Hercules Hunter. By Harry St. George.

155 Dusky Dick’s Doom. By Jos. E. Badger,.lr.

156 Frank Bell, the Boy Spy. By Oil Coomas.

15’? Nick Doyle, the Gold Hunter. By P. H. Myers.

158 Kidnapped Dick: or, Tho Fate of the Fire Fly. By 1. Stan-
ley Henderson.

159 Sam’s Long Trail. By W. J. Hamilton.

100 liank Trlplct’s Vow. By Hurry Hazard.

161 The Mad Skipper. By R. Starbllck.

162 The Trapper King. By Maj. Max Martina.

163 Simon Kenton, lluuter. By Emerson Rodmsn.

124 The Boy Chief: or, Frank Bell’s Compact. By Oil Coomss.

165 The Trader Traitor. By J. Stanley Hendarson.

’108 Old June’s Clcw. By Mrs. Orrin Jamal

16‘? The Young Trailer. By W. J. Hamilton.

168 The Specter Spy.' By Maj. Lewis W. Carson.

189 Lnnk Lute, the Old Colorado Hunter. By E. W. Archer.

170 The White Wolf. By Edward Willett.

1’31 The Swamp Guide. By W- N. McNeil.

172 The Yankee Paddler. By C. Dunning Clsrlr.

11’s The Scout and "is Young Chum. By Warren gt. John.

174 Blacksmith Tom's Mask. By Geo. D, Gilbert.

11" The Buckskin Rider. By Guy Greenwood.

176 The Squatter’s Surprise. By Mrs. ll. J. Thomas.

177 Four Fellow Scouts. By .1. Stanley Henderson.

178 Old Kit and Ilia Comrades. By .los. E. Badger, Jr.

179 Unolc Grill’s Disguise. By Harry Haurd.

180 The Marked Miner. By Lieut. Col. Hanlllne.

181 The Wild Huntrcss. By Capt. Bruin Adams.

182 The Dwarf Decoy. By Marc 0. Rolfe.

188 Jol‘ Dean’s Tactics. By Ingoldshy North.

184 Yankee Eph’s Dilemma. By J. R. Worcester.

185 The “'in Witch’s Ward. By Edwin E. Ewing.

186 Frank, the Furrler. By .1. Stanley Henderson.

15? Diana, the Fair Mountaineer. By Capt. 1'. Whittaker.

188 Jack’s Snare. By Mrs. Ann E. Portsr.

189 Sam, the Swamp Scout. By W. J. Hamilton.

190 The Dashing Trooper. By Frederick Dewey.

191 The Boy Bravo. By James L. Bowen.

192 Sandy Bill, of Texas. By Edward Willett.

198 Harry Winkle’s Long Chase. By Wm. B. Eyster.

194 Creeper Cato, ihs Shadow Swamp Trailsr. By 1“. Dewey.

195 The Ranger Detective. By Hurry Hazard.

196 Gypsy Mac, the Mountain Witch. By C. D. Clark.

197 The Branded Captain. By W. J. Hamilton.

198 old Crossﬁre’s Crisis. By Cnpi. Charles Howard.

199 Zebra lack, the Texan. By W. J. Hamilton.

200 The Nameless Hunter. By George W. Robinson.

201 The Yankee Captives. By Edward Willett.

202 Teddy’s Long Trail. By Edward 5. Ellis.

208 Old ﬂank, the Hermit. By Edward W Archer.

204 Goosehead’s Best Shot. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

205 The Dutohman’s Dread. By Capt. Chas. Howard.

206 Kit Burt’s Mask. By W. J. Hamilton.

207 Eagle-Eyed Tim. By C. Dunning Clsrlr.

208 The Village Sport. By James L. anon.

209 Back Burt’s Pluck. By Edward Willet.

210 The Tell-Talc Bullet. By J. Stwisy Henderson.

211 The Boy Surveyor. By W. J. Hamilton.

 

212 Yankee Drover Swlpcs. By Stalin Robins.

213 Silver City Tons. By James L. Bonn.

214 Nick, tho Drtectsvs. By Edwin Emsrsoa.

216 Mustang Rider Roy. By Albert W. Alhsn.

216 The Dakota Dutchman. By Mad. Max Martinis.

217 Yankee Josh, the Rover. By B. H. Beilmsp, M. D.
218 New York Ned in California. By W. .l. iismliion.
219 Kentucky Kate’s Shot. By Edward Willott.

220 'Friseo Frank’s Rival. By Paul 1. Pmtt.

221 Doctor Bag, Detective. By Lewis Jay Swift.

222 Sly Sam's Snare. By Louis Legrsnd. M. 1).

228 Old Nancy’s Ward. By Lisut. Col. Hsseltins. I
224 Rattlepato, the Nsboh. By Scott ii. Sherwood.

225 Niaht—llawk Bill; or, 'l‘lis Now York Sportsman's Claw.
By W. J. Hamilton.

228 The Masked Maniac. By him 0. Rolfe.

227 Barney’s Bold Brush. By Juan 1.. Bowsn.

228 The Deadwood Sports. By Lieul. S. G. Lansing.

22” "ans Schmidt, air.) or. The Disguised Yankee. By W. J.
Hamilton.

280 Lona Star’s Surs Shot. By Hurry Hsurd.

281 Mark Morgan’s Mask. By Capt. Charles Howard.

282 Billy Droom’s First Cruise. By H. Minor Klapp.

288 The Girl Riﬂe-Shot. By W. J. Hamilton.

284 Old Kyle’s Long Tramp. By Henry J. Thomas.

23!- Old Bill Syce’s Pledge. By Edward Willett.

286 The 0n-thc-Wln3 Detective. By Ed. 8. Ellis.

28? The Dolphln’s Young Skipper. By aner Starbuck.

238 Josh’s Boy Pards. By S. G. Lansing.

289 Lee Dakin's Disguise. By Marc 0. Min.

240 During Dick’s Race. By Arthur L. Messrvs.

241 Uncle Ephc’s Boys. By J. Stanley Henderson.

242 ’Cyollst Bolt Saared. By Capt. R. M. Hawthorn.

248 {innit-Light Joe; or, Brave. the Canins Scout. By Charles

. I ey.

244 Bob Baker’s Last Leap. By 1‘. Benton Shields, U. S. A.

246 North Woods Nat. By W. J. Hamilton.

240 Pranﬂirl Chief: or, Dolly‘s Droll Disguise. By J. M.
AE .

247 Denver Dick, tho Rattler; or, 'i‘hs Miners oi' Deadwood
Gulch. By Harry Hazard.

248 Black Jim’s Doom; or, Billy Bowlsgs's Revenge. By Lleut.
Col. Hmltins.

249 Morgan, the Sea Rovsr; or, The Shrurd Scotchmsn’s Srhsms.
By John 5. Warner.

250 Zach's Ghost Trap} or, The Harland-Hons» Havoc. By
George Applsgsts. ‘

251 Kyd’s Bold Gauss; or, The Death-Trail Mystery. By
Paul Bihbs.

252 Sancho Sara’s Shot; or, Fort Blnlrley’s Spoetsr Ridsrs.
By Gsorgs Gleason.

258 grainy Crazy Slack; or, flu Frsnch Fugitirs. By Harry

264 :‘yhgédl'winar'dhtsi‘nﬁiﬂuaher; or, The Droll Dsrhy's Dismay.

255 The Ranger’s! First Cruise; or, The Yankee 'l‘sr Ahmad. .
By John 8. Warner.

256 B I) G ’ C Th i C . ll
.5... anagram. '3’” ° W" W y

257 Talllly’s Fast Pm or. Searching for " Uncle Josiah." '
By W. . Hamilton. Rs y March it.

258 Doc Bell’s Pluck} or, Ths Frsnchmsn’s lists. By Capt.
Chas. Howard. Rsady March 98. '

1359 Rocky Mountain sum or. Hwy. the ﬁnish Son. '
By Edward Willett. Ready March 80. v

200 Reckless Ralph's Risks or Ths Tsll-‘i'sls Claw. By
James 1.. Bowsn. Ready April 

261 Gold Nugget Dicks or, Two Boys’ Good lash. By Toll
P. Morgan. Rssdy April l3.
Beadls's Boy's Library is for sols hy all Bowsdsslsrl. in
«ms per copy, or sent by mail on rscsipi olsix unis oath.
BEADLE AND ADAHS. Publishers.
I! William Street, New York. l“