S

1884, by BEAZ‘VLE As» Anna .

PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS,

Copyright

as Second Class Man Maxim.

March 19, 1854.

No. 119.

_. V,_A. ,AV~”‘___.__‘——r

Entered at the Post Office at Raw York. N. Y.

 

Price,
Five (cuts.

'12 NEW YORK.

M STREE

THE DEATH SHUT

A
m
E
W
W

No.

THE SPRING [IF THE TIGER.

r,

I)

9

OAT

A

x

H

MINK

. JR.,

BADGER

BY JOSEPH E

a, nu, ETC.

ETL

“ “THE COLORADO BOYS “

UND TEE CAMP FIRE,

R0

THE PRAIRIE RANCH,“ “

CTHOR OF "

. r.“
T3,}; -.
ud ‘1) ‘ll. I I
9h! 90947.}
34:43!!! fl
60 Hf! ‘l‘i

It?

a will J

by!)

lull]:

FEET.

RAY WOLF GLIDED FROM THE BUSHEB AND CROUCHID AT HIS

mm: COAT WHISTLED LOW AND san. WHEN A HUGE G

 

  

    

f.

“ moon-lighted space and entered the deep gloom .

l,

r i

, .

,\

 

'oi-it,w

 

 

 

 

I _ ~ room‘m“ do tabla upon will
0

l

 

 

 ‘ {Pl   in

- ' You Ioolin’, ain’t ye, now, so i”
a . r l

2

L Mink Coat,-
THEKDEATH SHOT;

.

a

The Spring of the Tiger.

5 BY .708. E. BADGER, Ja.,
Ana-non or “ROUND 'rlin CAMP m,” “m
CHAPTER l.’

, lJOLORADO'BOYs," "THE noun.
.
’ this
ride ’
‘ ' ‘ a DARK mom’s WORK.

HUNTERS," are.
~' ‘ A nan: form glided rapidly across the small

 

 

- beyond, less penetrable from force of contrast.
The pathway was narrow and winding, but he
appeared well acquainted with its meanderings,
8 though more than once he muttered a peevisu
curse, as he stumbled over some projecting root
or stub. '

In a few moments he paused at the edge of a
small clearing, and peered keenly before him.
Just discernible, beneath a couple of huge trees,
were the faint outlines of a diminutive log
cabin. ,

As the man entered this clearing, a dog set
up .a bay: deep, sonorous and musical, yet
sounding fierce and vindictiie. The man half~
paused as a huge object came bounding toward

im, and one hand partially drew a pistol from
his breast.

“ Halloo, Hackney l” he cried, in a loud, clear
tone, as a. broad glare of light announced the
opening of a door; “is this Uhe way you greet
friendsi Call your (log off, or by my honor, I‘ll
try what virtue there is in a blue pilii” .

“ Hee~er, pup bee-er!” called a shrill, cracked
voice, coming from the open doorway. “ He
won’t hurt ye, mister, of so be you don’t feel
’th him. E he sees you tetch a we’pon, you’re
gone—he’ll make anuther mouth right onder
your chimshore.”

“What do you keep sucha brute for, then!
It’s a nuisance,” added the first speaker, as the
dog slunk away, still growling and ominously
showing its gleaming white fangs.

“ He’s a smart dog, he is. on’t make no
fuss nor nuthiu’ at a honest teller. Takes you
for a rogue,‘I reck’n. I never knowed him to
be mistook yet, nuther."

“ Don’t shoot 01!, your mouth so much, Hack-
ney. If he barked every time he saw a regs

~ Hear you’d not have much time to sleep. 1:

are the boys in there?”

“ Gabe an’ Si is. Them you mean?”

“ Yes. Come. get out o the way and let me
in. There’s no time to spend fooling. Did you
tell them what I wanted?“ , V -

“Isorter give them a hint; I didn’t gestly
understand you. All- I knowed was ’a you
’20 west to git even ’th Clifl! Ward to—night, some-

ow.

, “ And they seemed willing!”

“ Wuss’n willin’, a durned sight; They’re hot

"ca glttin’ squar’ 9th the imp {61‘4th scrape
t'other n ht. An’ of they kin git paidtor dom’
so, much the better for them,”
‘ chuckled ey, ‘ ' "
mound. ’I wept on your

fionr'fellem an one leetle cuss? I Ch, git outl

in. _. I will tell‘you w at I wish done,
and than» on can decide whether you will help
- f ‘ not. it any rate, I know I can depend upon
 for it you speak, so can ,” signifi»
, _  the man, as he entered the low
r on; to a email back room. ;
 small, as stated, scarcely more than
tour square, without either door or window,
baddest” one dread alluded to, where now
WW.W0 men. ear the hanger of this
I: ,. 3n

  
 

old tin cup SM n caps as black e. ,
Two man were sitting at oppboite sides, each
mo‘ ,a pegraggod, greasy clothes whis -
, bloated faces, bleaer e as, tangled ha ‘., a be t
full or weapons,rwas,a that could at first be
distinguished. They  curiously at the
person whostood before   ,. V
He was ung—did not moon-mum
. twenty at
remature age in the thin flrmlycompressed
lips, and steely-blue eyes. fills dress was almost
' f ish; of fins broadcloth and snowy linen,
. w llimoro than one jewel learned htly as‘
, he moved beneath the du rays of t rude
hangingdam’p. -

/

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

9 most-but there was a la}; not

1

“Well, my friends, you are. here on time, I
see. Ready for a job?” he asked, in a low
musical voice, as he advanced and half seated
himself on the edge of the table.

“ Yes—~or of it’s as Hard Hackney yander
hinted, we’re double ready,” rowled Gabriel
Burke, the elder of the two ru uns.

“And what was that?”

“I only know that Cliff W'ard was mixed u
in it. He said as how you bed a idee ’at he’
better be put out o’ the'way, fer a while.”

“Well, and it I wanted you to do it, you
would!" ,

“ Yes—cf on paid us for the work," slowly
interru ted Svimon Roach the second man.

“An yet I have had to pay
‘ him alone, for the past month. ow is that?

“Bizness is biz‘ness, 'sqnare, you know. A
feller must live, an’ be caiu‘t hate do that ’thout
the slum. So long as you paid us we war
willin’ to let‘the bantfy go, but welds heap
ruther cli his wings, e so be it didn’t stop our
income. ut What’s the use 0’ gassin’? Come
right out an’ say what you want. You know
you kin trust us.”

“ Yes, I do know that I can trust you, or else
you would hardly know as much about me as
you do. But never mind that now. Draw up
close and I will tell on what I expect of you
to-night. You warmed to undertake it?”

“Yes. Seein it’s ’bout him, we’ll go it blind.
It. oain‘trbe none too hefty—~this job,” vindic-
tivelv re lied Gabe Burke.

“ We] then, you know he is sweet on Lou
Brady, old ‘Slow Joe's’ girl. And that is not
the only way he has crossed me either; but
never mind that now. I have found out—just
how don’t matter to you—that she is to meet
him to- night, at the broken oak, overlooking the
river; you know where it is?" -

“ Bet yer lilo we do.”

“Very well. We must be there. too. We
will wear the old clothes and masks, for fear of
being found out. You two—~or three, for Hard
will go too—~must grab him, while I ‘tend to the
girl. After that you can do what you please;
either settle his hash then, or take and kee
hima close prisoner for a week or two, until
my pirau has time to work."

‘ hat do you ’tend doin’ ’th the gal, 'sqnare?”
asked Hackney, in a low tone.

“That does not concern you, Hard. I don‘t
pay you for asking questions. You know I am
struck, in that quarter, but she is not sensible
enough to know what is best for her. She
gives me the cold shoulder for Ward. I can’t
stand that, you know, and so I have sworn she
should knuckle down in spite of herself. I will
take her to a safe spot, and I warrant you
when she nds she can do no better, she will
come to terms. Then when the storm bloWs
over here, I’ll bring her back and make it all
up with Slow Joe.’

“ Take kept that he don’t make it all up ’th
you, that,” mntterpd Hackney. “He’d shoot
quicker‘n a wink, that cuss Would. He don’t
know no better.” .

“I know that. But I can manag him.
Well, there is no time to lose. Will you allows
take the job or not?" ‘ , i

“ Fast-*what’li we make by it? He’s no
chickfin, Clifl.’ W'ard ain’t,” replied Simon

oac . < - v , . a v '

“ One' hundred apiece—big pay {or an hour’s
work. Besides it’s your revenge, too.”

“ Make it one~flfty." ‘ , .

“ No. Not a cent more. Take it,;or lchve it.
,If you 'c’rawfish, I can and plenty more to take

e

‘th b. » '

“ al, it’sa whack, boss. Seein’ its nearby
we’ll do it.”

“ Good! Hurry on the duds. Hackney, bring
in dress.” ‘ ,  ‘

n drew minutes the quartette were arrayed
in dark, clothes, with a closely—fittin  , and
beneath ~it a heavy black _ k. 6th ug of
hair or features could be ls‘cemed through

the disguise. -
~ “Nacho a come on. See that your weapons

{in for letting

are ,’ or you may have to use them. But
remain . You Are to take him to'one side,
out 03m girl’s ' 1!, before on dosh , 3.

Then ‘the money: "yours it

 ' ill  win. " in' I
»“ ea an .  os ,,
131336, as tmggii rapidly, ,
s. . ’

never 

reckcnflehuekled

alon t thew .  ~;
A alt-hour of steady travel :13th ' 

to the bank of the river, an it en t ey 

caeded cautiously upstream, Then pousn '

he crouched low down and ere t toward a large
tree, standing upon a little noll, overlooking
the placid river. -

 

i

 

, nuner And
" beauty.

Lieutigi: deeper into 11 yiel

the leader renewed his instructions, after whic I.

 

The moon shone brilliantly down upon the
two forms standing close together upon the
greensward.‘ One a man, the other a woman.

Both were barehcaded, and as the face of the
woman was turned toward her companion, the
subdued light plainly revealed her counte-
it was one of peculiarly striking

Above the medium night, superbly formed,
Louisa Brady was a magnificent woman, some-
thing ab‘ova twenty years of age. A brunette
of the purest t , she was deservedly styled
the Belle of the order. ~

An only’ child-of old “Slow Joe " Brady, the
hunter-trapper, she lived with  in a little
log house, seemin ly as hap .alndjcontented
as a bird. - The (9 man fair yfirorshipcd her,
and appeared to uni her armors than com-
mon flesh and big 1, ' , -' ,

It was a comely harm stun flg‘beside her, so
far as could be seen by the impertect Ii ht, his
face being cast in shadow. Trill an ~‘ sym—
metrical, dressed in a rough suit of home-

s un.

pit was indeed Cliff Ward, a young settler,
who had won the first heart’s love of the fair
Louisa. v V ‘

Then came a shrill whistle, that caused the
lovers to start and. glance around in vague
alarm. But era the oung settler could draw
the weapon his hand ropped upon, three strong
pairs of arms clutched him‘and bore him 33mg
gling to the ground.) ll 3 - (: J r .

Another man grasped  maiden around the
waist, and placed one hand ‘ mly upon her
lips, elfectually checking utterance of the :
shriek of terrified surprise. And all this was
done without avrorri being spoken upon the
part of the assailants. ,

In a few moments the latter arose from the
form of Cliff Ward, who now lay helphssly
bound, and wholly at their mercy; Sn quick
and admit had been their actions that he had
not a chance to other rehistance.

But now he spoke, his voice sounding hoarse
with indignant surprise.

“ What does this mean? Who are you, and
what have I done that you should thus treat me
like a dog? Speak out, if you are not afraid of
a bound manl ’

A hoarse chuckle from one of his ca 'tors was

the only reply. Evidently the assai ants 'did v I

not care to speak.

Then Ward glared at the form of him sup-
porting the almost fainting maiden. Bis teeth
grated fiercely, and his voice sounded harsh
with anger as he uttered: ,

“I.might have, known it. It is to 11mm
Carpenter, that I owe thisl Oh,you cowardly
treacherous car! If my hands were only free, I
would tear you limb from limb, but what I
would wipe out this insulti” 1

“Easy, my friend, eas ,” laughed the other,
but still with an air of c agrin at his disguise
being penetrated. “Your league will run your
neck into danger if you don’t mind.” .

“It is you, then, Mr. Carpenter!” exclaimed
Louisa, as she strove to free hersslf from his
strong) grasp. “ I knew you were no gentle-

ut 1 id no

man, t believe you quite so low and
degraded-as thisl Release me, or—” '
-, Or what, my darling? No—no; I have

waitedm time long enough, and now it has
comeI _ ll not rpm it like that. tilt is your
time to lead to me now, and ‘rarely shall you
do it be are we say quits. You laughed very
merrily at me when I told authet me would
soon ‘come when you wood run our words,
that night. You thouight' it only t e raving oi!
a spoony lover. But was not raving. I only
,lagjquiet and let you run your len th for a
w is I am ready now, and, from th s on, on
must be content with my lovemaking. ~lift
will have other matters to occupy h s atten-
tion, I fear.” and he laughed a bitter, mockinfi
laugh, that caused the maiden to shudder “it
a. va "terror. » ‘

“ my hands, cowardandyi'will make ‘

on eat those words! To threaten a womaul
fish!” hissed Ward, every muscle ’xlraining to
it! utmost tension In the vain endmor to burst
asunderhis bonds of roan rawhideg‘which only.

dinghy) v
 couldn’t sot, on , so ho wanted
hoover so had,  ucklPd‘ , Burke.
"‘ .Oll’l'e'mine no — an’ Bi ,Boach’s hyar.
s’ro goin’to r out thet lactic u’oountthet
stands ag’inst your namoiuonr 103.com. Best

, er pra’rs leuhiiro as yonder moon shines
33% on yon,'it’ll look at you givin’ your lost

Tick this nightl"

“You hear—Mr. C enter” coped Louisa
in agony. “You-hegpwhat} that man as is!

Do not allow this—tell mothst you will not I”, . I

s, \

 

A; ,gl



 i

  

 

 

  

 cadmium,

 

ask you, by the memory of your dead mother,

not L0 do this crime!”

“You plead in vain, my love," replied Car-
penter, in a tone that stil sounded harsh and
unnatural, for it was evident that her allusion
to the dead had touched him in some manner.
“ His fate is settled. I could not saw: him if I
would. He has injured those men, and must
pay the forfeit. » He would have sufl‘ered for it
d mon to ago, but for me. I bought them off.”

" He never did wrong—spare himl You can
——I know in Spare him, and I will bless you
forever,” pleaded the woman.

,“No, I cannot—or will not, if that suits you
any better. Do you think that I am a blind
fool? I see that you love him, else you would
sooner think of your own danger, and shall I
give him his freedom so that he can win and
wear you? Noua thousand times no! You are
mine-410w and forcverl You did not know
What was best for you, and laughed at me
when I told on I loved you and sought you for
my wife. on could have madea man of me
then. You madeadevil of me instead. It is
my time to laugh now—ha! hal”

“Do not plead for me, dearest Louisa,” nt»
tered Ward. “He is a devil as he boasts. But,
Carpenter, if you harm her by so much as an
evil word. or" look, you will rue it. I swear
to have the last drop of your heart’s blood for
it, if I hunt a lifetime, and Lhou h you hide in
the bowels of the earth, I will ting you l”

“ You are foolish, Ward. You will never see
the sun rise again. I tell you your hours—nay,
your very minutes of life are numbered. But
before you go, rest eas regarding your sweet-
heart. She will be we cared for. She is to be
my bride—willing or unwilling.”

‘This is all durned foolishness. ’square,”
gruflly broke in Simon Roach. “What’s the
use 0’ gassin‘l Shell we fix the cuss now? I‘m
gettin’ slee y, an’ want the job over.”

“Yes. ake him away. You know what to
do, and where to meet me afterward. Take
him of! and do the job up well."

“ In style, you bet!” grunted Burke.

“No-no, you must not—you shall not!"
cried Louisa. “ My Godl Will no one help us?”

“No, it is past help. Come. you must go

, with me unless you wish to remain here and see

the last of. vour friend,” brutally said Carpen~
ter, as his strong arms wound closely about the
trembfing form.

Themalden shrieked wildly and struggled with
supernatural strength. But she was held as in
a grasp of iron.

“Choke the wench, ’square, or she’ll hev the
hull kentry on our barks,” growled Burke, an-
grily, as be dealt Ward a fierce blow upon the
head, to quiet his struggles.

Carpenter placed one hand rudely over his

I captivd’s mouth, and then all at once her pow-

en gave way, and she hung a lifeless weight
upon his arms. She had fainted.

“ Hurry up, boys," muttered the leader.
“Make a clean job of it and then follow me.
Shoot or knife him, and then throw him into
the river. Take off the cords first, though, for
they may get us into trouble if he should be
found too soon. ” ‘

“Allright. Kin you mauidge her alone, or
shell one 0’ us go ’lonfi?" '.

“I can manage. my up.” and then hear-
ing the still senseless maiden, Carpenter turned
and glided r idly away through the gloomy

the of the orest.
aboard a pistol-shot, quickly followed by a
sullen splash in the waters of the river, and de-

’ :pito his hardihood. a cold tremor crept over his

radio. Never before had he had blood upon
his hands, unless shed in fair conflict.

He imu nod he saw the blood-stained and
distorted eatnres of his victim, as they were
upturned toward heaven, while floating along
with the swift current. And in the future it
was destined to haunt him more than once, un-
til he «med the bloody deed with all his heart.

 

CHAPTER 11.
mm: boar.

I! was high noon one day in midsummer. The
gun had but recently the meridian. The
song. of the birds were stilled, and all Nature
seemed wrapped iuva deathllke silence.

EVen the drowsy hum of the beetle, the chi
of the cricket or grasshopper—the usual [uni-ti:
fluttering, meaning murmur, caused by the light

.‘ V' .nlmmt‘vertical rays of the sun, ren-

ered' even the forest depths uncomfortably
‘ as if wrapped in an enchant-

s

4

Mug through the treetops; all werei

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

form came gliding into the little glade, and gave
a quick, keen glance around him.

A human form~that of a white man; of a
stalwart frame, but one bowed down as if with

rest sorrow or old age; no longer erect and

aultless as of old. ‘ ,

His hair was long and snowy white, as was
his heavy beard and mustache. The eyes were
deep sunken, though Iglittering with an almost
painful brightness. is face was thin even to
emaciation, and of a ghastly, livid tinge, un-
un lcasant to look upon.

9 paused for a moment to peer keenly upon
the ground before him. There lay a plain
trail, evidently made but a Very short time pre-
viously. . '

Two men had passed by, and one skilled in
woodcrafc would not have hesitated to pro
nounce them white men. And yet one of their
own race and color was trailing them, with a
hungry glare in his wild eyes that boded them
no 00 .

T or once more the old hunter set ofl' along
the double trail, stepping with the noiseless
celerity of the velvet~pawed panther. Had the
two first passers beheld him then. they might
well have grown uneasy.

This strange hunter was none other than old
“ Slow Joe " Brady, the one alluded to hereto-
fore as the father of Louisa Brady. The three
yenrspassed since that memorable night had
sadly c anged the genial-hearted old trapper.

Only upon'the morning succeeding the trag-
edy had Louise’s absence been discovered, and
then, rendered nearly frantic with fear and a
dread of he scarcely knew what. Joe Brady set
his faithful old dog—a bound of the purest breed
—upon her track, an hour being spent in finding
the right one.

Then as the dog ansed beneath the broken—
topped oak tree, wit a bowl of despair the old
trapper set himself at work to learn the truth.
He recognized several of the fool riots; among
them those of Carpenter and Cli Ward.

He learned, as truly as if he had been an eye-
witness of theentire occurrence, how the lovers
had been surprised—the murder of the young
settler—and then the flight with Louisa. He
realized the bitter truth then.

He followed the trail until it again tonched
the river, where the parties had evidently taken
to the water in a canoe. For another hour he
searched for some trace of their progress, but in
V911].

Then he aroused the neighbors, and for days
and weeks the search was maintained for the
missing maiden, but without success. By some
means the abductors had learned how matters
‘ stopld, and had fled, effectually covering their
tre . ‘

Then the settlers began to tire and dro
off, one by one, until Joe Brady was he t
alone. Days, weeks, months and even years
rolled by, and he did not despair of eventual
success.

He scoured the éountry for leagues around,
and finally reached the Miami valley, where he
now was. In all this time-nearly three years--
he had heard nothing of either Carpenter, Ward
or his child.

He came to be looked upon as a sort of mod-
ern Ahasuerus, doomed to roam the world over
throughout eternity. It was said that he bore a
charmed life—that nothing less than a silver
bullet, duly marked with a cross, could draw
his heart’s blood.

With his eyes now dwelling upon the trail,
broad and distinct as though the Wayfarers had
no thought of threatening dan er, and. now
peering eenly around him, the o d hunter glid-
ed forward. Suddenly he paused.

The faintsxounds of a hoarse laugh had met his
well tral'ned hearing. And now the fiery low
deepened in his eyes. and a flush sufl‘use his
cheek. As he slowly crouched down, every
muscle seemed to uiver like those of a wild
beast about tolaunc itself upon some coveted
prey.

It was now that the old hunter fully displa ed
the perfection of skill. learned by long and an-
gerons egperience. He seemed to move by in-
, sum. Without a‘n efl'ol-t upon his own part, and
. though the undergrowth was here more than
= usua ly dense, not a twig snapped or 9 leaf
1 rustled to betray his progress.

5' As he glided along ihe sounds of voices w
f plain an more distinct. An increased guitar
of the e ertold that Brady felt some grea joy.
3 .He he eved that he recognized the voice of
1 one whom he, hadnot seen or three years. _Of

one for whom he had' hunted long, believing

that he could solve the my% e maiden s

disappearance; thevoice of Ga lBurke. -

i

 

l

   

‘
. ,1 .

' l
But then the charm was broken. A human

 

3

Then the hunter paused and cautiously parted
leaf by leaf of the dense screen before him, until
he could eer forth upon the inmates of the little
glade. e clinched his teeth upon his lips until
the red blood trickled down his mossy heard,
lest the long pent-up feelings should break forth.
in a wild cry of exnltation. .

He saw"before him one of those who had been
concerned in the abduction; the first one when:
he had found during three years’ weary, unA
ceasing search. Gabriel Burke was before him,
and although something changed in looks, was
still sufficiently like for Brady to feel assured of
his identity.

Beside him sat another man, both bein en«
gaged in eating a rude but substantial lun of '
cold meat and corn cakes. Between them lay
a capacious flask, half filled with an amber-

hued liquor, that aided the cool, sparkling X ‘

water of the woodladd spring to wash down the
viands.‘

The old hunter hesitated onl
He had learned enou h to con emu both men, if
only from the pecu iar dress the wire, but
even had he not felt assured of the hilt of both,
ill: is not likely he would have withheld his

an .

With the chance of solving the fate of his
loved lost one before him, he would have acted
the same. He was hardly accountable for nu
actions; as the setllers more than hinted, his
brain was unsettled. ' l

His long rifle ruse to his check with a deadly ~ 9.

steadiness, and his keen gray eyes lanced ale
the clouded tube. The double sig is bore f'ul
upon the exposed temple of the smaller man, for
one brief moment. »

Then the trigger was touchdi; the hammer
fell; a clear report rung out out upon the still
air, followed by a single gurglin roan as the
doomed man slowly sunk fox-war , t 6 hot blood
spouting from a tiny hole in his forehead.

Gabriel Burke uttered a wild cry, and 5 ing-
ing to his' feet, outstretched one hand or his
rifle. But quick as was his action, it was top
late to serve him. ‘ ’ ~

A shrill, blood-curdling yell smote his hearing,
and a dark form 5 rung out upon him, with
marvelous agility. be next instant .he eta -
gered back, with what seemed a ferocious wi d.
beast upon his breast—a vise—like grip fastened
around his brawny throat. ‘ ‘

In vain he struggled. Though nearly twice.
the size of his antagonist, he seemed a very in-
fant in the hands of the avenger, strengthened
with the fury of madness, aided by long-cher-
ished hatred. ' \

He staggered back, his foot slipped and befall
heavily to the ground. His face was horribly
distorted, rapidly
were almost. ursting from their sockets.
his senms reeled and he fainted.

When he awoke to consciousness in a few mo-
ments, Burke found his assailant bendingover
himté having his brow with the icy—cold s rin
we r.

hunter.
“Joe Brady 1” he muttered, as he stroveto .
raise a hand to his throat, that seemed on film. , .
But in vain. He was securely bound with hi0
own belt. Then the avenger hissed: . , y
“ Yes, I am Joe Bra v. ‘ Where is my daugho '
fer—where is Lou? T me, or I will tear our. ;
black heart from your breast and thrust ft m
your throat.” ‘ ‘

“ I don’t. know—how shed I?” {altered Burke '4 ‘  " 
a grayish shade settling over his face as he   ‘~
3 ' ,

the wolflsh glitter of h enemy’s eyes. I

“ Liar! (you stole her away—you and that
devil Al rpenter.
you wish you had never been born!”

“I don’t know—" and then Burke 
paused. V . 3*.
A culiar gleam passed over his counteuam

——a ray of hope. As he lay upon the
heard a faint whistle and then the just discerni-
ble sound of footsteps approaching the spot. 30
knew that assistance was coming, alarmed by .
the death-shot and wild yell. ' ‘

Did the avenger also hear it! No, one glance
showed Bur e that, and be resolved to keep him
busy in min , if possible, trusting yet to escape
from the threatening peril. v '

“ You won’t blow on me cf I cellr'he added,

qhickly, inn loud tone. “He'd km me of he  '
knowed I’d ” .

poached.
“He r who do on mean b he?" eagerly
asked Brady, total y oblivious all but them

great object to which hehad devoted his um
“ nter. You know he stole her!”

“Yes, I know. But where is the? Toll  3

quick!" ,
‘f Net ten mile- from bye.”

1

a

for a moment._ '

1.7

. h

f‘ _

x

I 

In amazement he glared up‘ a ch: ‘ j-f-
haggard features; then be recognised the old ‘ 

Tell me,or I will make' "

 

ground her V

turningblack, while his as ;  :1:
{gen , .»

 
 

 

\

’__. 5-le

“T‘en she is alive l”

“ . k, in course she isl ' He didn’t ’low to kill
her, ., II wouldn’t ’a’ had nothin’ to do ’th it.
I’m a 1 igh cuss, I know, but Ihain’t so bad that
I’d be on thin’ to do with butcherin’ wimmeu.”

“ Bar: on’t prate, but tell me the truth. I
believe. frou are lying, but I warn you that if I
catchl will deceiving me, your life won’t be
wort r (din of burnt powder. Now tell me

the tr’ui's '35:
“ i; w \ut don’t be so darned hot. You've
apt m. an’ I must ask ’long the line. I
ll you" ‘ I [live an’ wel , not ten miles from
hyu.” ‘ i z’ i

“What isl'toqe doing there? If alive, why
didn’t she re:..1cn home to me?" snspiciously
added Brady. {in

i‘fHe wou dr r“Jet her at fust, an’ then as she

0t used to tho. :i‘e, mebbo she didn’t want ter.

bar—don’t flrezxip—J on’y said mebbe. Any~
how, she seems loontented enough. ’Sides, he
kept clus watch or fiche young ’un—”

‘The—what PM i.

“The hobby ydgknow. Al Car nter he
married her. Themlgot a bobby, a eetle boy.
That’s what keeps .ruI reokon.’

“My God! ’tis as‘PbarmLtben!" groaned the
father as he sunk back and covered his face
with his hands, while great scalding , tears
trickled through the much, horny fingers.

The outlaw airly trembled with excitement.
He could hear the footsmps plainer, and to his

etematurall sharpened senses they sounded
the the rumbl g of thumai‘r.

‘ In his heart how he cure.” the folly of those
comin to investigate lib-3 '.;nse of alarm. He
soon them in his heart. I willfully wishing

, his death. w

Should the hunter hear them, there was yet
time for him to deal a fatal blow, and still es-
cap: Would he not do it?

a thought was horrible, and great drops of

V perspiration stood out upon the strong man’s

row while he suffered the tortures of a dozen

" deaths.

Suddenly he heard a faint, rustling noise
close beside him, and glanced th 'way, scarce-

: ly able to repress a cry of joy. Bu“. what caused

a with that loo

that sudden llor? Why did hal'hx‘ink hack
of horror in his ‘was? What
caused his strong frame to quake jmd tremble
as though attacked with a violent a; ' ‘9?

From the bushes a strange face lravked down

I upon them; a face that seemed the collection of

the heads of a small animal. Burke could see the

, gleaming white teeth, small and sharp; the

right bead-like eyes; the pointed scouts, and
yet it all bore the shape of a human head.

He had never before beheld this being, al-
thou h man were the tales he had hearkened
tbof ts dar ng deeds and wondrous skill and
cunning. He only knew that it had proved a
terrible scourge to the band of which he formed

one.
Some declared it a crazy white man, while
j others as

tively affirmed it was an Indian.

It had gained the sobriquet of “Mink Coat,”

' fromits dress being almost entirely formed

from the skins of that animal even to a large

’ cap formed entirely from the heads, stuffed and
prepared, with beads for eyes, the teeth all in
‘ ce

'LNOW, more than ever he felt he was in danger. ,

Sndh was the object that met the gaze of the
outlaw, instead of a friend, as he anticipated.

“Mink Comm—to call the strange being L

the name he was generally spoken of—partr
r j the bushes and stepped out into the glade, c! _ i
' = beside the two men.
4 ; caused Joe Brady to spring erect, rifle in barn.
’ The trappe

He uttered a low cry tbs ‘

r gazed curiously at the stranger.
Nothing was Visible of his face but the eyes,
large and brilliantly black shining with a pecu-
liar litter that impressed the be older uncom-

» " f to 1y. '*
r , » at much, if any, be and the medium hi ht,

he, was a parently wel formed and muscu or,
although he fur garb detracted somewhat from
the clear outlines of his figure. In his band was

i a ; in the broad belt at his waist a knife, a

find a rent] eatl
' «1'in i’ i"
wolves are coming, and the; t

. in everg limb.
. $3; T ey fear Mink
coed

anal hatchet and a. brace of pistols.

” Who are you-what do you wont?” uttered
amazed.
wou d save {our life. The
irst for your
cod. He is one of them, nodding toward
he Burke, who lay back, pale and trembling
“Load our rifle and trust in
cat, the Death Shot.
will flee at my laugh—hal hal”
Untll't is moment Brady had for otten that
his ride was empty, and thus warn he quickl
began recharging it. Amused now from ,
abstraction, 'he could plainly distinguish the

i and, an

n
‘. l ."

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

tread of approaching footsteps, and realised
that den or threatened.

Mink oat whistled low and softly, when a
huge gray wolf glided from the bushes and
crouched at his feet, its ears laid back, and long
white fangs disclosed by the parted red lips, as
its nose pointed in the direction from whence
sounded the iootfalls.

Then the bushes were dashed aside and a half-
dozen men broke out into the glade. But they
suddenly paused at the strange sight that met
their gaze. a

A bound comrade lying beside the bloody
corpse of another. Two men—one of them the
dreaded Mink Coat—standing with leveled rifles
covering their forms, while a huge wild beast
crouched at their feet, every nerve quivering in
readiness for the fatal leap.

No wonder they paused with cries of sur-
prised alarm. "

 

CHAPTER II.
wazncoun, ran nmm.

AGAIN we ask permissiOn to change the scene,
as the proper development of our tale demands.

Upon a little knoll, surrounded u on three
sides by a small form under cultiva ion. stood
the log cabin of Andrew Holmes. His famil
consisted of but three, besides himself. His
wife, Minnie, his daughter, and Hardin Ellis, a
young man who acted farm-hand, but if report
spoke truly, he served in that capacity more
from love than what profit he gained otherwise.

On the evening in question, they were still
seated at the suptper table, when a low rap
sounded at the ha open door.

“Come in,” cheerily called out Andrew
Holmes, althnu b not without a all ht trace of
uneasiness. ren ered but natural byt e troubled
state of affairs that were fast approaching a
crisis in that section of the country.

In answer, a tall dusky form stepped within
the doorwa , and stood as if waiting to be ad
dressed. is dress and color reclaimed him
an Indian; 9. connoisseur woul have decided
him a Miami brave of no mean rank.

“Oh, it is you, Wazecotah,” cried Holmes.
“Yen are as welcome as sunshine on arainy
day. Come, sit down and take a bite. We are
about through, but there is enough to stay your
hunger. Come, sit down.”

“ Wazecotah no got time now,” responded
the Indian, as he advanced a pace. “White
fader hear news?”

“What news is that, chief?
wron i”

“ “eh, lenty wrong—all wrong! Injun git
heap ma now. Dig up hatchet-tel: plenty
scalp bum-by. What ,you feel when got no
scal .ehi Like it plenty heap, chi”

“ but do you mean, chief?” said Holmes,
approaching the savage, a look of alarm im-
printed upon his manly features. “Do you
mean that there is danger? Of the red-men
troubling us, I mean?”

“Yeh, heap danger, all time. Plenty big
heap now—lose scalp ef don‘t go ’way off from
here. Bes’ o— lenty soon. Go now, bum-by
too late. W en njun come den can’t go. Won t
be let go. Un’stan’?’ rapidly uttered the chief,
in an earnest tone.

“Hardin, come see if
him. You can talk their
trouble brewing for us.”

“Chief,” said Ellis coming forward and
s aking in the Miam dialect. “what is this?

all there be a cloud between brothers?"

“ No. Let my brother listen, and remember

that a chief speaks. My people will not listen
tothe voice of reason any onger. They say
the ale—faces must be driven from the land of
the iami. They have dug up the war-hatchet
and painted it re . Before another sun comes
the land will belike day with the burning lodges
where now sleep the whlmeo lo; the earth
will be drunk w th their bl ! 0es my bro-
ther understand?”
- “Yes. You mean your people are about
to make war again. But sure] they will not
harm us? Whenever did a iami pass by
here, but he was kindl treated, and given
whatever he needed? Is heir memory so short
rapt; single day can cause them to forget all
t s . .

“Yes. A cloud is ovor them. They do not
know friend from enemy. At the council but
one voted to spare this led a; that voice was
Wazecotah‘s. They said e was blind, and
laughed at his words. The said that thisynigbt
my white father must, 19. But Wazocotah
swore his heart that he would'saye them.
The , er Voice _ under saved the life of the
chief when the reflend was in. his brain.
l Wazecotah more to repay bar kindness. The

Is an y thing

on can understand
ngo. I fear there is

 

v.
, ,

 

/

 

time has now come for him to make his word
good. He comes to tell you that you must fl~o
rom here, for if you stay the rent sun will
only shine upon your dead ies,” solemnly
uttered the Indian.

“ Do they know you have come here? Imcan
your ople?” -

“ o. If they did, Wazecotah would be de-
oraded from his ranl; and cast out as unfit to
We among men. But he could not let the Sil—
ver Voice perish. He will save her, for she was
ver kind to him.”

ardin briefly explained the tidings borne by
the Miami, to olmeg who received it with an
air of doubt.

“I don’t know. It don’t seem ri ht. We
hava done the tribe much service. hey say
an Indian never forgets a favor. But if
what he says is true, then I could never trust
another man. If they are treacherous, so may
he be. Perhaps it is all a plot to et us
out in the woods, where we cannot 0 er the
resistance we can here, behind these stout
walls.”

The Indian listened to these words in respect—
ful silence.

Evidently he understood English better than
he could speak it.

_ When Holmes finished, he advanced. and tak-
mg the settler’s hand, placed it upon his breast.
Then he said in a gentle tone:

“Does my father feel the heart of a chief?
Does it best like that of a traitor? The Silver
Voice saved the life of Wazecotah. He could
not tell her a lie. He swears b the Great
Spirit that he tell the truth. i my father
doubts the word 0 Wszecotah let him strike.
See! the Miami’s breast is broad, but a knife
can touch his life. Strike hard. He would
rather die than have his father think such evil
thin s of him.”

“ ou can trust him, father,” cried Minnie,
eomin forward. “I know he will not lie to
us. e could not, with that face.”

“Wazecotah is proud that the Silver Voice
believes him. Listen. He will prove his
truth. He will stay here—you can hide his
weapons if you fear him—and when his eo-
plc come, he will bid them begone. If t ey
do not obe the words of their chief, then b(,
will die efore harm comes to his friends.
He cannot lift a hand or arm against his
people, but they must kill him before they touch

on

“No, chief, forgive me, I do not doubt you
any longer. I was a fool to do so, even fora
moment. But tell us what we must do. Is the
danger really so great?" asked Holm
the hand of the iriendly Indian warm y.

“ Yeh, big heap danger, fo’ you. Miami come
when moon gees down—kill—burn—tek’ scalp.
You stay here, git kill. Bes’ go ’way off—hide
in woods till Injiu git tired. Den come back.
If kin git to log house down ribber-—good.
Injun no hurt dere. Lodge too big. Don’t like

thunder guns. But mus’ go. Git kill big plenty

of don’t go.”

“But can we? Won’t they find us in the
woods?"

“Mebbe so—t’ink not, dough. Don’t - tek’
bosses—meld too much noise. Go out to ribbu‘
—-g1t in canoe, den creep 7JOng shore. Don’t. go
out in light, an’ Injun won’t see you. Mus’ go
plenty quick, dough. Bum~hy be too late—den
no use. What fader say? he go?" anxiously
queried Wazeootah.

“Yes, we will go. God have more 'on us if
you are deceiving us! But I won’t thin of that.
Yes, we will go. But the boat-— where will we
find one? Ours is broken.”

" Know where big black rock is? Here tree——
all white—no limbs. Fire-s irit mek' um 90.
Derc rock—here canoe azecotah put um
dere. Kin find um, t’ink?"

“He means near the lightning-blasted oak,

Holmes. 1 know the lace. Yes, chief. we can
find it. Then you nk we will be safe on the
river?” '

“Yam—know so, (0’ sure. Miami won’t o
dere. Ribber got no scalp. But mus’ wak
plenty quick an’ still. all Same like pant’er.
n§n he got heap big ear When on war th.”

ith a. few more instructions thepIndian
turned and left the building. The expitemem,
though in a measure subdued and kept within
bounds, was very great at the cabin. « -

It was a danger that the had foreseen for
some time, although they {ad triedrto- blind
themselves to it. y recalling their excellent
terms with the savages in general, whom they
had ever made a practice of treating kindly.

But now it had come upon them,.ina.manner .

nnawares, and they were fearful of the worst.

It was no time to take thought of their ’

x

grasping ‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

' i

 little further out here, where it is safer.

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

-

)

 

 

worldly goods, and yet not one of the little
party but what felt a pang at the thought of
abandoning the home, perhaps forever, that had
become so endeared to them from long associa-
lion, together with a. thousand other objects.

The chief had told them not to attempt flight
137' means of horses, for although time might be
thus gained, the risk of discovery would be
doubled. And within a half-hour from the time
of the chief’s departure, the settlers turned their
backs upon their rude but loved home, and
tiitered the Wilderness with light, cautious
ste s, but heavy, foreboding hearts.

hey only have weapons, food and some
necessary articles of clothing. The rest was
abandoned to the hands of the ruthless savages.

They paused at the edge of the woods, and
turning, gazed back toward the little log but
with yearning hearts. The women wept audi-
iwly. and even the men. strong and stern as they
thought themsehes, felt a tear dim the bright-
ness of their eyes and a choking sensation rise to
their throats.

“Come,” at length muttered Holmes in an
unsteady tone; “this is idle folly. We must
improve every moment, for, if the chief is to
he believed, the Indians -muy come at any
moment.”

Taking the arm of his wife he led the way,
closely followed by Ellis and Minnie. And thus
perhaps a' mile had been traversed, when the
older settler suddenly paused, with an exclama-
tion of chagrin.

“ I’ve left my knife at the house!”

This was a. serious loss, and one that could be
replaced by only one moans. That was by
returning for it; and yet there might be great
danger in doing so, should they separate, to
both parties.

“ 1 will go back after it,” said Hardin. “Do
you remember where you left it?”

“ N o~but I. think on the mantle over the fire-
place. But you stay here. I Wlll go and find it.
Or perhaps you had better keep on toward the
river. It might be safest."

“No, Andrew,” said his wife, “not without
you. We will wait here. But why go at all?
Surely it is not Worth the risk!"

“Indeed it is—uot that I fear any danger,
though. It will only take a few minutes. I’ll
'urry back.”

As he spoke the settler started off upon the
hook trail at a rapid pace, and speedily vanished
from view. The three fugitives Withdrew a
little to one side of the path. and anxiously
awaited the return of their friend.

Minute after minute I‘Ollud by. and still the

settler did not retum. It was a time of
most trying suspense to all, and though they
strove to hope for‘the best, dire forebodings
would assail their hearts, despite this resolu‘~
tion.
1 “MV Godl why don’t be come?” groaned
Mrs. Holmes, in agony, as fully an hour had
efcpsed since her husband’s departure. “They
have killed him—I know it!” _

"* No, I think not. Holmes would have made
some alarm first. He is detained by something
unvxpected. Perhaps he could not find the
knife as readily as e thought,” replied Ellis;
but he did not feel the hope his words ex-
pressed.

“ I can stand it no lon
He is hurt—~I know itl
long. if all was well.”

“ No, you must not do that.
will 0 and him.”

“ on will get killed too, Hardin,” murmured
Minnie, agitatedly.

“ No, lell be upon my guard. But confie a

0w
do not move or speak aloud until I return.
There is no telling who may hear you. You
promise, Minnie?” '

“Yes, but hasten back, and be careful, very
care'fyul. I should die if any thing happened

on.

"God bless you, darling!” murmured Hardin,
as he clasped the trembling form tightly to his
heart, and pressed his lips warmly to hers. “ If
only for your sake I would be cautious. But
never fear.  will return all safe, bringing
your father with me.” ,

Then the young settler turned, and regaining
the path, a rode rapidly, yet noiselesst along
toward the deserted cabin, resolved to learn the
fate of the borderer, at all risks. And yet
he was firmly persuaded that Andrew Holmes
was, either dead or alive, in the power of the

Miamis.
glided along, Ellis kept a keen watch

r—I must go to him!
0 would never stay so

If you wish it, I

“Ashe

 around and before-him, and at short interval
~ pausing? hearken if the returning footste
r

‘nhese

x

0
could be distinguished. But notlising

l

 

save the usual night sounds of the forest greeted
his ear or sight, until he had traversed fully
half the intervening distance to the log cabin.

Then Hardin fancied he heard a cautious foot-
fall before him, apparently approachin his
position. Pausing abruptly, Ellis felt a most
certain that his surmise was correct; that but a
few yards separated him from some‘human be-
ing, either a friend or an enemy.

For full a minute he stood motionless, but
their fearing to waste any more precious time
he ventured to speak, in a low, guarded tone.

“ Holmes, man, is that you?”

No reply came, and then he repeated the call,
in louder tones. At length convinced that he
had deceived himself, Ellis glided forward. As
he passed the spot from whence the sound, if
any, bad proceeded, he paused and peered
around among the bushes; but found nothing.

Then the young settler pressed onward, near-
ing the deserted cabin. All at once a cold
thrill Ypervaded his frame, and involuntarily he
pause . _

Hardin fancied that he heard stealthv foot-
steps behind him. That. he 'uas being f I/nwm'
either by man or beast!

But nothing further sounded from the sus-
pected point. All was silent as the grave. And
it still remained thus, as Hardin glided noise—
lessly along, listening for the sound to be re-
peated, his rifle in readiness for instant use.

He heard nothing more of the sound. how-
ever, and soon reached the edge of the clearing.
His heart gave a wild thro‘o, as he first gazed
out upon the'open, moonlighted space.

The log house still stood, dark and gloomy,
looking as though not visited since their first
departure. - But where was Andrew Holmes?

Could it be that he had been there, and had
already left? If so, why had not Hardin met
him upon the trail? Could he have taken an
other route?

That was not likely, as this was the plainest
and most direct. Puzzled and perplexed, Ellis
resolved to visit the house, and see if any clew
could be gathered there.

With a swift glance around him, he turned
and ran lightly along over the beaten path.
This was not perfectly straight, and along its
sides the glass was a foot or more in hight.

All at once the young settler uttered a little
cry, as his foot struck against a soft, yielding
mines, and with a (leSperate effort to recover his
balance, Ellis ‘fell at full length One hand
touched a peculiar slimy substance that there
could be no mistaking. It 11-4230. mass of co-
amilatvd bland .’

With an involuntary cry of horror, Hardin
sprung to his feet, wiping his hand with, a shud-
der. As he turned to glance at the body, a

wild yell broke forth upon the still night air, ,

sounding from the woods at a point near where
he had just emerged, and from the drzzling
flash that spouted forth, a con is of bullets
hissed uncomfortably close to his ead. *

There was no time to lose, but still be cast an-
other glance at the corpse. His worst fears
were realized; it was the lifeless form of An-
drew Holmes, stabbed to the heart, and with
the scalp torn from his head!

All this passed with the rapidity of thought.
From the time Hardin Ellis fell, not a- half-
score of seconds had elapsed. And now he re-
alized his own peril.

As if in answer to the yells of the savage:
who had fired at the young settler, a dozen cries
peeled forth from around the clearing’s edge,
and as many dusky, half-nude forms sprung out
into the moonlighted space. A cordon of death
seemed to encircle the border-er. .

A quick glance showed him this, and told bin.
that only one hoperremained. And that hope
-ahl what a faint one was it!

The house now was his only chance of refuge.
If it were occupied by the enemy, then all he
could do would be to sell his life as dearlyms
possible. He could not hope to esca e byxflight.

And so, toward this refuge, ardin Ellis
sprung, nerved to desperation, sending buc‘ a
defiant yell in answer to those of fiendish ex-
ultation that echoed from a score of throats.
The foe,was closing in upon him, and it would
bea tight race as to which would reach the
goal first.

With wondrous fleetness Hardin traversed
the hundred yards, and reached the building
not a some yards in front of his yelling pursu-
ers. As he sprung against the door. it sudden-
ly opened. and Ellis felt himself clasped tightly
in the arms of a man—an Indian!

A wild, exultaut yell sounded in his ears, as
his form was twisted to the floor by his antaga-
nist, with as much seeming ease as though he
had been an infant. Then a strong band

clutched his throat—a heavy knee was ; zed
upon his breast, and a bright knife-blade
gleamed before his eyes! Death stared [him in
the face! at;

 

CHAPTER IV. 
' A VOICE FROM THE PAST.
THIS tableau did not last long,
change. The outlaws were speedily r‘i,
ter cause for alarm than the mere sie

..ithout
t

 

Coat. That worthy uttered a or; ;n_ 
ringing, but horrible from the dc m‘vmdic-
tive hatred it shadowed forth. _

His rifle spoke, followed like . 3 be by
that of Slow Joe. Two of the , .. . vs never
knew what had hurt them; ere t eyes could
note the flash, or ears the re. ,a brace of
bullets crashed through their l' ins.

Their fall was greeted with . )ther cry from
the Death Shot: shrill and pe . ar. It seemed

a signal to the wolf, who, wit ; grating snarl,
sprung forward like a lightni 5 bolt.

The victim it had selected 'arsw forward his
rifle, but it was dashed asid ike a feather, and
then the vise-like jaws cl :d upon his throat,
the wolf greedily drinkir is life-blood. That
aroused the surviving ou vs from their species
of stupor, and with wilfi cries of horror, they
turned and fled from 48 spot of death, as
quCkly as feet winged by terror could carry
1 em.

Mink Coat cast aside his rifle, and drawing
his pistol. darted f ward in rapid pursuit.
Mechanically Joe B‘ dy followed in his lead,
for the time totally rgetting his prisoner.

Swift-footed as t“ old hunter was, he soon
found himself dist: fed by Mink Coat, and than
above the iranipl'vi‘; of feet he heard a pistol-
crack,,accompanm. by a shrill cry as of awful
agony, telling l3va true had been the aim of
Death Shot. Shortly after, Brady paused be-
side a writhing L \(ly. ,

It was one of the outlaws, shot through the
body, his back broken. The old man paused
and gazed down upon the groaning wretch,

ance.
He recognized the man, despite his distorted
features. 'rnwas one of those who had so

 

met his pl; ishment at last.
Brady 3; we to recall the senses of the dying

v man, wit" 'questions of the past, but in vain. No

gleam of; collection appeared at the sound of
the ill-fa; d Louise’s name.

Then with one gasping groan—a. horrible
spasm of agony, all was over. The outlaw was

cant look upon his face, as he leaned heavily
upon his rifle. He had forgotten the present;
his mind was busied with the past.

For full an hour he stood thus, and was only
aroused by th
his hideous f0 ower, the wolf, from whose loll-
ing jaws drops of bloody foam trickled. Then a
glow of recollection shot athwart the wrinkled
visage of the old hunter, and he said: , '

“ That man—Gabe Burke—l forgot him 1”

“Yes, he must die, too. All of them must
dis—die. likethe do they are! Come—I will
kill him—I and eauty, here. He hates
them, too; I taught him, Come, I am thirsty
——very thirsty, and nothing save blood vi 1
quench it. And it cools my brain—it is good,
very good, this blood-when it comes. from’ the

 

heart veins of thaw men l" cried Mink Coat, and

.as Brady glanced at the Death Shot, even his ‘ '

lvseared brain read the truth. .

“M‘Tbe famed Mink Coat—the dreaded Death '
.IIShot—was a maniac. There was no mistaking‘
.r‘xthat fiery glitter in the large black eyes. _De—

spite himself, the old scout shudd‘ered.

freak, consider him an enemy. ‘ And yet the.
old hunter felt a strong attraction towel-tithe

seemed as though he had known him at some
bygone period of their lives, under very diflar-_
cut circumstances. . _ ' '
“No, you must not kill him,” slowly aid
Brady, his keen eyes gezmg full into the glow-
ing orbs of Mink Coat.
have learned something of him. Hestoleny
child years ago, and I want to learn her fate;
whether she is alive or dead. After that. I do
not care.
“ He has injured me, too, somehow. .
remember just what it was: my brain is not so
clear as it used to be. It feels light and dizzy,
just as though it was drunk. D095 our brim:
ever get that way? Mine does, 0 ten; ever

 

since they killed me. Were you ever dead?”

a strange ex n-ession resting upon his counten-

wronged him. years before. Simon Roach had '

He felt that be m uld be no more than an in: ,-
faut in the maniac’s grasp, should he, by some ”

“At least. not until I ,

dead.
Still Joe Brady stood beside the body, a va- 1 -‘

, .

 

appearance of Mink Coat and ,’ 'V

is:

stranger, that he could not account for. It.‘ ', ‘

You may work your will with him.” , . 
I don’t ,



\

 

 
  

rambled Mink Coat, us they walked through
the forest.

“1%, I never, was," mechanically replied
,' Brady, unheeding the words he uttered; his

mind, as usual, dwelling upon the past.
“ l have been—they killer! me once. He was
ix one of them. They shot me and then made the
cold water run over me until I was drowned; I
think that was it. Then they got frightened
and ran away. I was tired and slept a long
time—years and years, I guess—rind then I woke
up age 11. Something kept whispering in my
ears to be a man and avenge—not me. I forget
What it was now. Something very dear that
they stole away from me, I know. My heart
maybe; I have none now. It is only a lump of
ice. But it burns, too, whenever I try to recol—
lect what I used to be. Then I lie down on the
cool, green grass, and pray that I may die
again, and sleep forever 1”
,. V’ The strange bein allowed his voice to die
 J ’ gradunll away, a though he still continued
' wildruv ngs. beneath his breath. Still, true as
a bloodhound upon a breast-high scent, he kept
. the trail that led back to where they had left
Gabe Burke a. prisoner.
. (As they entered the little glade, a wild cry of
“angry surprise broke from the old hunter’s lips.
He saw the dead and silent forms of the slain
outlaws; but where was the living one?
" I , He had vanished, leaving nought behind him
save the traces where he had lain. By some
means he had slipped his hands from the belt,
(feed his feet and then fled, fearing to await
the return of his dreaded enemies.

“ He is one-fledl Cursed fool that I am! to
have left im alone without wringing the truth
from his lips. The clew wasvln my hands, and I
let it go. A thousand curses on my blind

 

‘ “if '
' ' ink Coatgazed steadil at the old hunter
’ fora moment, a wondering ook in his luminous
eyes. Then he spoke, in a low, entle tone, that
caused Brady to start and trem Is:

“What is t the gray-head wished to know!
.Why does he cry because a. black-hearted dog
has e away? Does he love that bad man i”
' “ o-—no, I hate himl But he was one of
those who stole away In child—my Louisa.—
aud I would have made h m tell me where she
was hidden at. And now—the hard work of three

_ years is all undone l”

- ‘, “ Loulw—Louiml I have heard that name

’ somewhere. It sounds like music in my ear, and
it makes my brain whirl. Tell me what this
gnome, old men? llNho amB Ilgynflmfttered Mink

H a ' ea eryinto to s ace.

‘v “I 50 uotgkngw—how should I?” wearin re-

,v 1,390!“

 

ed the old man, bowing his head; the dis~
spgointmcnt being almost too much for his worn
on, shattered mind to sustain.

"Don't cry—it hurts my heart to see you

 u

    
   
  
  
 
   
  
 
    
    
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
    
    
  
    
  

c -,I It is not like a lump of ice any longer
, , w on on -—I would rather it was. It don’t
hurt hen ke it does now. Don’t cry any

\ more§ and I will help you to find this bad man.
Orth s—who did you say? Louisa? I will find her
fer you if you would rather. Ivan find her, never

7 fear. I will ask the birds of the air to hunt for

,  They obey me—I am their king!" mut—

 ’ flared Mink Coat, his eyes sparkling with the

 lurid fires of insanity.

. “ You will help me—you can find him—-
 her I” eagerly cried Brady, his shattered mind
‘ dumbing dil at the idea.

3‘ “Yes, mill elp you. Come, let us follow

, ‘ Momtl. If he walked on the ground, though
’ with steps es li ht as a feather-fa l, Beauty here
will find him. f be floated through the air, any

‘ bird will show us the right way.” .

, Greatly enchuraged by the rambling assur-

‘ auces of his companion, poor Brady sought

demand until he found the trail of Gabe Burke,

{and thou the strange trio plunged once more
into the woods, following upon, the utlaw’s

,, molt. That worthy had been in yfar too

I. greats hurry to use care in his flight. .

i He dreaded the return of his foes, and as soon

as be worked his hands free, he loosened the

, bonds of his feet and then fled at hot speed. 80

' -' his-trail lay broad and distinct before them; one

I tbstvrequlred but little skill to trace out.

" Along tbie,-then, the trio pressed, Beauty,

. the wolf, leading the way, as if by scent. After

at, short stretch to the right, the trail made an

 abru turn to the left, at right angles. thus

‘ , rum: ng parallel with the road over which Mink
y Con had chased the outlaws.

‘ ' For nearly two milesthls was traced u , when
Allah Cont 'mddeuly paused, checkin t e wolf

a. bymmns of a slight hiss. Perfect y trained.

, the brute crouched low down and remained

x motionless are a value of stone. '

Minkfl

 

 

A peculiar sound was heard; truly a strange
one in that wild and lonely spot. w and
mournful, yet indescribably sweet, came the
softly uttered notes of a song, in the unmistak‘
able tones of a women.

Mink Coat turned his head and glanced to-
ward Brady, who was leaning forward, his lips
parted—his head turned to one side—his eyes
shinin like balls of fire; in most acute atten-
tion. o had heard that same song often in
times gone by; it had been his favorite, and of
an evening, aftera long day‘s tramp through
the wilderness in quest of game, he would ie
upon the little gross plot before the cabin door,
pipe in mouth, dreamin listening to the full,
sweet tones of his daughter as she sung it; she,
his lost childl

“ I told you I would find her,” muttered Mink
Coat, exultently.

Brady did not speak. His heart was too full
of sweet and bitter memories conjured up by
those mournful notes. He bowed his head upon
his hands and sunk to the ground, his form
trembling like a storm-tossed shrub.

But then he sprung erect, a wild fire glowing

in his eyes, an expression of horror-distorting
his features, now livid and ghastly. For a mo-
ment it seemed as though his brain would
burst, so hot and heavy did his heart’s blood
flow there.
‘ But with an effort that left him weak and
trembling, he subdued this feeling, and turned
toward the glade. He had heard a. childish
treble utter the word “momma,” and then
came a gleesome laugh of infantile joy.

Then the words of Gabe Burke came back
to him with terrible force. He felt that this
was the voice of her child—of his, the ruthless

. . , abductor, Albert Carpenter.
_ -l'ollyl” raged Brady, stamping his foot in mud '

Aslight hiss met his ear and as he glanced
around, Brady suw Mink ‘oat crouched low
down, one hand halfpoising his rifle, while the
other was wound in the long matted heir of
Beauty. who was uttering a low grating snarl,
and ominously showing its long gleaming fangs.
The eyes of the Death Shot were riveted upon
a portion of the woods 3. little to the left of his
present position.

Joe Brady caught sight of several dusky fig-
ures stealing cautious y through the bushes,
peering eagerly toward the point from whence
still sounded the sweet song. It was evident
that as yet they were unconscious of the pres—
ence of the two rangers, for though using so
much caution, their forms were fully revealed
to view. '

As if paralyzed, Brady glared at them, while
they advanced with the noiseless caution of ser-

nts. Then they paused—~flve of them—be-

ind a fallen tree, whose huge trunk was over-
grown with bushes and clusterln vines.

After peering through the lea y screen for a
moment, they slowly raised their rifles and
leveled them toward the glade, where the song
was now stilled although the low Sweet voice
could be hear conversing with the shriller-
toned child. But then a motion of Mink Coat
arousad Brady.

The former quickly raised his rifle and fired,
uttering the yell that had become so fearfully
known, now mingled with one scarcely less
horrible, as a death-stricken red skin flung up
his arms, fellingI backward, shot through the
temples. /Then ink Coat sprung forward, pre~
ceded by Beauty. ,

BradY—HOW thoroughly awakened from his
stupor—flung n his long rifle with the precision
of old, and ad ed his contribution to the sur-
prise. Then he alsos rung forward. .

But the sur rised, I[)ndisne did not await for
this. They card the voice—recognized the
form of the dreaded Death Shot, and thought
only of flight. It was not in savage nature to
boldly confront one—unless in overwhelming
nulgibers—of whom such fearful tales had been
to . ‘ ,
Turning, they flex] afirighted through the for-
est——all but three. Two were already stiflening
in the embrace ct death; the third was writhing
furtively beneath the huge form of Beauty,
whose grinding jaws were tearing furiously at
his throat.

Shrill screams dross from the little Elude,
and the mother grasped her child an fled,
together with the one man detailed to guard
them. And as if echoes, hoarse cries arose
almost directly in the [path taken by the
alarmed savages.

Despalrinfily, they abruptly veered to the
left, end stl sped on, their steps quickened by
a volley of rifle-balls discharged by the outlaws
collected by Gabe fiurke and those surviving
the conflict with the two rangers and their four-
focted 85157.‘ . ,

 

f Mink Coat nosed and arrested the steps of
Joe Brady. hen another cry told that they
| also were discovered, and a half-score sturdy,
well-armed men set out in hot pursuit. ‘

Resistance with empty weapons was not to be
thought of, and knowing this, the two men
turned and fled, followed by Beauty, who
glanced often oVer her shoulder, viciously snarl~
ing and showing her teeth in rage; but obedient
to the cry of her master, she resisted the desire
to assault those she had been trained to hunt.

Mink Coat began edroitly to load his rifle, as
he ran, showing great skill in the act, owing to
the thickly growing underbrush. In five min»
utes the weapon was char ed, and wheeling,
with a quick aim, another low was dealt for
vengeance.

A cry went up among the pursuers at this
act. Evidently they recognized their foes for
loud among the chorus were the names of Jim
COAT—DEATH SHOT.

CHAPTER V.
A mun MISHAP.

WE left our young friend, Hardin Ellis, in a
far from enviable Situation. Truly he seemed
doomed to death beyond a. hope of escape.

Helpless, in the grasp of a savage far more

were wound tightly around his throat, whose
knee pressed heavily upon his chest,whose strong
right arm was raised aloft, clutching the knife
that gleamed as if thirsting for human blood,
its point directed toward his throat; while from
beyond, a. score of red-skins came dashing up to
the door, with loud ells of exultation at seeing
their victim run so lindly into the trap.

No wonder the young settler gave himself up
as lost, and a cold chill crept over his frame as
he thought of the helpless ones awaiting his re-
turn in the forest, now doubly bereaved.
Though life was sweet, his only thought now
was for them. If he died, they were assuredly
doomedl _

For a brief instant the glittering knife hung
suspended in air; then it swiftly descended,
with a dull, heavy thud! «

Despite the strong grasp upon his throat,
Ellis uttered a groan as a. subtle pain shot
through his neck.

“Hoohl” grunied the savage, as he artially
arose, holding up the crimsoned kni e in the
bright moonlight that streamed in at the open
door; “the lorg-lmife was a. fool! He runs
with his eyes shut. But he has got a good scalp.
Wazecotsh thanks him.” , .

“Wazecotah’s arm is strong and his knife
sharp. Is the paleface dead?" asked one of the
save es. .

“ t Sakima look,” tersely replied theobief,
as he pointed to the gor neck of the you:
hunter. “Wazecomh on y strikes once. Bu
this only makes two There are more. Let in
children go and seem!) abé‘n Warecotah wig}
lstfiy here to stop them if tho, "ow to the

o as.
is nearly time.”

Without another word the savages turned
away and left the buildin , hound upon the
task set by their leader, w 0 then closed the
door and Sllently barred it before turning once
more to his prisoner. *

man,” grimly remarked Wamecotah, as ho
stooped over Ellis and assisted him to rise.

The young settler et trembled from the Se-
vere trial he had nu ergone, for until the blow
was delivered he believed his doom to heme]—
ed beyond a doubt. Until then he had not
recognized his assailant. . '

When the keen knife hissed through the air,

of his antagonist, and recognized lhe chef.
But the shockof the keen blade slitting open the
skin of his throat, when driven with such force
had in a manner stunned him, and allowe,
him time to comprehend the  of Wm
zecotah. '

Reading the look aright, he had feigned
death, trusting all to the chief. 'As we an

ting doing so.

“ I must thank you chief,” muttered Hardin
as he rose and clasped the Indian’s hand, “ that
I .am not really a dead man—like my poor
friend out yonder!” he added, with oshudder.

“ Wazecotah would have saved him, too, if
he could. But he did not see him until a
knife was dee in his heart and his scalp hang
ing at the be t of a brave. Wapecotahvwou d
have died for him rather than this should have
ba‘p ened,” gloomin responded the Miami. ’

 

\

powerful than himself, whose sinewy fingers

When Wanou comes, send him. here; it'

. “My brother can open his eyes now. There
is no one here to listen to the words of a dead ~

he had caught a peculiar glance from the e as '

seen, thus far he had bad no cause forrem‘et- ,

ell.me how it‘camc about,clliyl,,f"‘addcd. _

 

 

  

 

Mink Coat, the DeathShot.

 

 

 

 

Hardin. "Where were you? He trusted you,
like he would me. Ah’s me! I little thought
of this when we—you and I, chief—used to
come home from our long hunts, to find food
and a warm welcome from him who now lies
out yonder, dead and scalplessl” brokenly mut-
tered the young settler, his eyes dimmed with
tears at the thought of his comrade’s unfortu-
nate end.

“The heart of Wazecotah is very sad. It
almost makes him a squaw. But it was not
his fault. He would have given his own
life rather than have bad the Gray Head
harmed. But the Great Spirit willed that it
should not be so. Why did he return? Had he
listened to the words of W'azecotah he would
Eavekeen alive and well now instead of where

e is.

Ellis briefly detailed the reasons of the set-
tler’s return, and then heard an account of the
ending. Holmes had entered the clearing with-
out pausing to reconnoiter, and was met by
one of the Indians who had hidden in the grass,
and'stabbe'd to the heart ere he could use a
weapon or utter a cry. ,

A Ler warning the settlers, unknown to his
people, Wazecotah had started to return to the
village, but striking a trail that he recognized,
headin toward the lone cabin. he had followed
it, so t at, should his suspicions of their inten-
tions to attack his friends be true. he could
elfect a delay, and thus facilitate their escape.
But he did not OVertake them until just as they
so arated to surround the building.

hen he bade them pause, saying he would
advance alone to learn if the initiates were as-
leep, intending, were they still at home, to
enter and cast his fate with theirs. He meant
ito {redeem his word even at the cost of life
tse .

But as we know he found the whites gone,
and after being fully satisfied of this, he had
returned to his men. They separated in order
to find the trail and thus learn the general
direction in which they could most likely find
their intended prey, while Wazccotah busied
himself in obliterating all traces along the path
that he knew the fugitives must have taken.

Unfortunately there was a division in this,
the two trails running parallel for over a hun-
dred yards, at not more than twenty apart.
Not knowing along which one the fugitives had
passed, Wanecotah began to brush along one,
when Andrew Holmes silently passed him by
means of the other.

He heard the subdued exultant yell of the
savage, who had slain the unfortunate settler,
but too late to afford Holmes any protection.
He could only disguise his feelin s, an expres-
sion of which could do no goo , and might
place it beyond his power to save any others.

Believing that Holmes had merely returned
for, some forgotten-article—tbe only solution he
could arrive at, under the circumstances-—

' Wazecotah reasoned that he would be bought

.isa

 

" echo, and bring me word from

after, as his people would hardly abandon him
without. 80 he gave his men orders to allow
any one approaching to pass by the cabin, un-
harmed, where he would intercept and either
kill or capture them.

How true was his reasoning, and how adroit—

‘ly he had played his dimcnlt part, the reader

has already seen.

“ 1 thank you, Wazecotah,” said Hardin
Ellis, after the chief had explained; “ but than
is not all. I must return to our friends. with-
out some one to guide them they wlll be lost.
Gen you draw off your braves so t at I can pass
by them!”

“No, not yet. Wanou is to meet us here. He
eater chief than Wazecotah, and the
Miam s will not dare. to disobey him. He said
wait'here until became; they must do it.”

“Then I can try arun for it. They can only
kill me. and better that in trying to save those
who trust in me, than life at their cost. I must
save them or die!" cried Ellis, hotly, his hand
upon the bar of the door.

But he was checked by the chief, who drew

him back.

“Listenl Waaecotah will do better than
that. He w:ll make a Miami warrior of his
pale—faced brother. Then he ban walk openly
to his friends. Does ngrrelF'oot understand?”
.“Ynou mean to paint me like one of your
Meal

“Yell, They will not know you. You can

, kthe tongue of the Miami: well. If any of
t em asks your name, tell them on are Petal-
‘ eoxa. The
will not etc you; Petaleeha indeed, thong
thwdouot now it.”

,Whlle he spoke Wszecotah was assisting
gardan tomove is outer garments, and Mn,

- z

 

 

.L\ ,,’5

 

with an admit and cunning hand, aided by the
bright moonlight that streamed in at the win-
dow, be colored the white skin to a savage hue,
and afterward various symbolical figures. The
long hair of the settler was twisted into a knot
upon his head, and an eagle plume from the
chief’s headdress thrust through it.

Then 'Wazecotah stepped back, uttering a low
grunt of satisfaction at the transformation thus
rfliected. With his fair knowledge of the. Miami
dialect, Hardin could safely have passed
through a far more close scrutiny than he was
likely to experience upon this occasion.

“ Will it do, chief!” anxiously asked Ellis,
gre'ltly excited. but far more because of the
lives of the loved ones depending, mainly upon
him. than from personal four.

“Yes! Had not my hand painted you, I
would call you Red Crow—Petalesha. the
Miami. You could deceive even Onekatohis-

favorite squaw l” replied the chief, with a. grim
smile. "

“Very good, then. Your hand, chief. and for
give me if when I found him, I believed you a
traitor. The cloud is gone now, and I will trust
you,” said Ellis, warmly, as he clasped the In-
dian’s hand, pressing it firmly.

” It is end. There should be no clouds be-
tween friends. Do not let thflilver Voice
think black thoughts of Wazecotah. He would
have died to save her father. if he could.”

“I know it—I believe you, brother. I will
tell her ourwords. But now I must go. We
will stri e for the river and then keep down
wit it. Your braves will not come that way 2"

“ 0, not ifI can kee them away. But if
Wanou tells them go, I Will leave them and find
you in time. Now go, by the back window is best.
It is dark there, and you can creep to the woods
without being seen a coming from the lodge ”

Time was too precious for more than a single
haudclasp, and then the two friends parted. Har‘
din slipped out through the window, bearing
his clothes rolled in a compact bundle, intend-
ing to resume them when once safe beyond
the lines of the war-party, and enter the woods
without being challen ed, although he saw the
dusky form of more t an one brave, peering
keenly at him.

Making a considerable dr'tour he again
reached the requisite path, and then strode
along, with more rapidity than was exactly
consrstent with rudence. But his mind was too
ill at ease in thinking of what terrors the two
helpless women ,must have undergone during
his long absence after hearing the noise of fir—
ing, for him to choose his footsteps.

Suddenly ‘he heard an exclamation and .a tall
form uprose in the narrow path before him.
From a rift through the tree-top, the bright
moonlight shone down upon them both, quite
plainly revealing their features.

Hardin saw that he was confronted by an
Indian—a Miami—41nd felt that his disguise
was about to be put to the test. And hidden
by the bundle, one hand cautiously sought his
knife-hilt, in case the worst should come. '

“Where is my brother going, so fast?” de—
manded the true savage, bendin forward and

.eriiig keenly into the face of t a counterfeit

mun.

” He has been to 'Wazecotab,” boldly replied
Ellis, in the same dialect. “ He carried the chief
word from Keoxa. He takes back word to his
chief, and is in haste. The path is long before
him and Keoxa is hot-tempered. Petalesha
wishes his brother good-night."

“ Stop I” cried the Indian, barring the way, as
Hardin would have passed him. “ Are names so
scarce among the Miamis that a live dog shculd
steel that of a dead brave? Who are you that
steals the name and paint of my dead brother
-—Petalesha?” he added, fiercely, as he half
drew his hachet.

“One who sends you to join your brother,

dog!” snarled Ellis, as he sprung upon the Mi-
ami, and with a fierce stroke buried a long knife
to its very hilt in the broad chest of the sav-
age.
The stroke was a true one, and well judged.
Only a. smothered groan escaped from the lips
of the fated red-skin, and his tall form swayed
to and fro; then as the deadly knife was with—
drawn from the gaping wound, he fell back-
ward a corpse.

There was a deadly glitter in the stern blue
eyes .of the young borderer. as he spurned the
body aside with his foot. Never before had hu-
man blood shed in an er stained his hands, but
at the thought of his ind friend lying yonder,
dead and men led he banished all trees of the
remorse be m ght otherwise have felt.

Then wiping. his weapon, Hardin donned his
outer garments as he strode along, keenly

.\l'

 

watching for the place whore he had left his
friends. Ina few moments he gained this, and
then uttered a low cry as he rushed toward the
spot where he had cautioned them to surely re-
main. ,
Suddenly he paused. There was the spot——
but it was vacant. The women were gone I
For a moment. the young man stood motion-
less, as if turned to stone. His heart tluohbed
wildly, and the blood rushed hotly to his head,

until it seemed as though his brain would burst. , .

Then he raised his voice and called aloud. He
uttered the name of his loved one; then that of
her mother. But the only answer was the
(gr-lilies of his own voice. Again and again he
called, each time- londer than before, but with
the same result.

A groan of bitter ng any burst from his lips.
He could doubt the dread truth no longer: they
were gone—gone!

CHAPTER VI.
IN THE NEST.

lilEANWIIIl..E_ let us go back and trace up the
fortunes of the two women, Mrs. Holmes and. .
her daughter, Minnie. ,

Clasped tightly in each other’s arms, they"
crouched down in the covert shown them by
Hardin Ellis. Thus, scarcely daring to breathe;
they awaited his return, hoping even against
hope that he would bring with him the missing. \
settler.

Then they were startled b rt of
rifles, followed by shrill, exu taut yele that
there could be no mistaking; they could only
proceed from the throats of savages. As though
death-stricken, the two women remained mo-
tionless and silent, even stilling their breath.

As if to confirm their worst fears, there came '
another yell—uttered by Wazecotah as be over-
powered Ellis—and, then others, all exultant;
triumphant. They could doubt the truth no

the re

longer; they were deprived of their last earthly ,

protector.

“My God!” gasped Minnie, in husky tones,
her wildly throbbin heart almost checking ut-
terance; “he. too— e, tool"

“I fear so!” murmured the mother scarcely '
more composed; “ but what shall we of"

“He bade us stay here until he came. We ' ' ‘ “

would only lose ourselves in the wilderness if 5
we attem ted to better ourselves, and run still
greater anger. We will stay here until—".~
and then, bravely as she began, her voice fal-
tered and choked.

“ But be will not come now—they have-J

“No-no! they have not hurt him. He has
escaped—I know it! I should die if I did not

believe this. We will wait here until he duet 

come,” gasped Minnie, one hand pressing firmly
gpon her bosom as if to quell the raging of he!;
cart. ’-
Half-slupefied by the. double blow, Mrs.
Holmes sunk back and covared her head with
her apron. Minnie rose to her knees and then
gamed wildl ,
ad procee ed the boding sounds, ea erly heari-
ening for the returning footsteps of er lover. ’
Suddenly she uttered an exclamation. SIM '
heard the sound of a footfall, apparently com- ‘
ing directly from the deserted cabin. .
“ Mother—mother he is coming! I know his
footstem l” gas the maiden, springingtc her
feet, her beaut’ ul face radiant with new-born. ,

30v.
The {outfall neared, and all was silent. Why! ,

did not Hardin come to heri,Could he have
furgotten the exact spot? Minnie believed to, I
and she raised her voice, crying aloud:

" Hardin—father, here we arel Thank God! .

you have come at last!” .

There was an answer, or what sounded like”: .

a human voice, although she could not difilin-i r
gnish the words, and Minnie re lied: l y

" We wil come—wait for us. other, mother. ,r
here iS'HBT in and father come back. Haw.
we must lose no time. There is dangeryrtl ’

These words aroused the woman from her
stupor, and arising, they both hastened to the
point from whence had sounded the voices.
Alas! they ware doomed to a bitter disappoint»
merit; their awakening was soul-sickening!

As they distinguished the shadowy outlines or /
two‘flgures standing in the path, the Women
rushed forward and flung their arms around

them. A cry of wondering surprise greeted, ,

them, instead of joy.
Then a wild shriek broke from Minnie’s lips,
as she feltahot kiss imprinted u n them. A /

rough, bearded ll scratched her ace. It could -

not be Hardin is face was
then whose was it?

I smooth sham—e"
 luck, Hackney,”

 

out in the direction from whence". '.

y.
1.l.

chuckled .mn

 

 

\E'

    
  

l

l

 

 

 

   
  
 

 

 

  

8

 

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

 

that we have heard before. “Mine’s as young
and tender as a spring squirrelt How’s youisé”

" Tough an’ scrawny as a ten y’ar old ’pos-
sum! Cuss my toe-nails! Cap’n Al, you al—
’ays it the best 0’ the barg’in!" grunted another
old—time acquaintance.

“ Whoare you?" tultered Minnie, as she strove
to free herself from the strong arms that
clasped her so tightly.

“ Your slave, I judge, my recious; I shall be
if you are as pretty as your ips are sweet and
juicy. Love at first sight, I should say, by the

, way you hugged me,” and the ruflian chuckled

c )zn'sely.

“We thought you were friends—my father

and brother. They went back to the cabin, but
I fear they have fallen into the power of the
Indians. Oh! sir, please help them—won’t
'ou?‘
3 “ So-ho! You are old Hohnes’s women-folks,
than? I’ve heard of you, and should have
called long ago, had Inct been so busy. And
they were fools enough to get into trouble with
the red-skins, eh i” .

“Look hyar, Cap,” gruuted Hackney, in a
dissatisfied tone. “Et‘ you‘re grin’ ter gass
thnr all night, jest say so, 7nd l’ll strike for the
den. ’Tain’t safe hyar, it ain’t. Jest lis’en to
them thar cussed red-skins a—gawpin’! We’d
best dig out o” hyar, I’m thinkin’.”

“ You’re right, Hard; but we must take our
friends along. The rods would make short
work of them unless. If they make any fuss,
we’ll just clap something over their months.
My hair feels mighty loose. just about here,
now. Those imps mean mischief, and when
they hear how we served their kindred lie-day,
they’ll probably make the nest a visit. If they
do. I’d rather be in than out. But lead the way
——I'll follow.”

As he spoke. Albert Carpenter—for it was in-

‘ deed he—adroitly fastened his handkerchief

1',  terrcof the Death Shot.

. over the mouth of the half—fainting maiden,

and then when the elder woman was secured in
the same manner, the two ruffians took up their
way through the woods, leaving the path be
hind them, proceeding with the air of men
thoroughly acquainted with their whereabouts.

For a year or more, pro ions to the opening
of our tale, Carpenter had’ een the leader of a

regular organized band of horse-thieves and

land-pirates, although outwardly he was an
honest man; a sort of amateur hunter and
gentleman of leisure, who seemed to possess a
deep pocket, well lined. It was whisiered
about—just how it first originated he coul pro-
bably have told, had he felt so inclined—that he
was an English nobleman, who had come to

I America. upon a pleasure trip.

,r But soon after the tragedy beside the river——

, detniled in our first chapter—Carpenter learned

that the truth was suspected, if not positively
known, and knew that his would be but a short

~ shrift, was he once captured by the aroused set-

tlers. So he and his band had emigrated fun
tger west and south, settling where we now find
t em.

This lea 9 had grown stronger and more
daring wit passing years, until it became a
iel‘l'ect scourge to the surrounding country.

at they, too, were visited by a. scourge—one,
too, greatly to be dreaded, for which they had
ample cause. »
;,It assumed the shape of Mink Coat, whose
sharp shooting soon gained him the nom do
This strange being
over-ed around them night and day, picking

’ , of! manvafter man, seeming to avoid the nu-
merous traps and ambuscades set for him, as by‘

instinct.
When his rifle spoke, it sounded the death
knell of its target. The outlaw never lived to

‘ _ tall of his adventure.

As yet Carpenter had never met Mink Coat,
face to face. He knew nothing regarding him,
save what the conjectures of his own men told.
They said that it must be one whom the league
had fearfully wronged—«the majority said
killed, they believing it to be nothing more sub-

‘ stands] than a ghost—at Some time in the past;

and some of them were right.

_ titer and Hackney had been with those
of the band who had set oil? after the surviving
savages who had attempted to sla the mother
and child. Becoming separate from their
comrades they were on their way back to the
“nest,” when the incident occurred that throw
the two women into their war.

,For two hours the on awe strode on, half-

,‘ 'dra ging their captives with .them, when the
. but

of a Wide but shallow creek was reached.
Enterin this their trail was speedily lost upon

/ _ the bar  bottom.

. For a couple of miles this was (allowed down,

 

 

and then raising the women in their arms, the
abductors left the water along the barkless trunk
of a fallen tree, stepping from its butt upon a
ledge of rock that (xtended for some distance
into the wood. A range of hills now loomed up
before them, quite near.

Reaching the base of these, Carpenter entered
a sort of narrow defile that seemed to out the
hill in twain. At its month he was challenged
by a sentinel concealed in the bushes, and warn-
ing him to keep a close lockout, they paHSed on,
soon pausing beside a stout log structure, built
like a block-house. This was the nest of the out-
law league.

The two women were conducted through one
room, and then into another, apparently extend-
ing some distance into the hillside. This room
was dimly lighted and alread occupied by two
persons; a woman and a chil —-the same whose
voices had so excited the old hunter, Joe Brady.

The mothtr glanced up ufirightedly as Car-
penter entered, and then her eyes droopinv, she
shrunk back. The outlaw chief addressed her,
speaking in a. rough, harsh voice:

“ Lou, here are some visitors. See What the
need, but mind you don’t talk too much. 1 she I
be where I can overhear every word, and if
you~ Undefl'tand?”

" Yes, I understand,” murmured the woman,
in a low, sad tone, singularly musical.

“ All right, then. You can tell them what to
expect if they make any disturbance. Tell them
how pleasant it is here—you are a living witness
of that fact—and what an agreeable time they
may expect, if they have sense enough to do—
serve it."

Then with a fiendish laugh Carpenter turned
away, after removing the bandage from Min-
nie’s mouth. The massive door closed with a
sudden clung; then all was still.

 

CHAPTER VII.
A PERILOUS SITUATION.

IT was a bitter blow, and Hardin Ellis nearly
gave way beneath it. His system had already
been severely strained, and this blow fell very
heavily.

He staggered back with a groan, and but for
the friendly support of a tree-trunk, would have
fallen to the ground. But only for a moment
did this prostration last. .

He made a desperate eflfort and cast off the
incubus, knowing that upon him now depended
the future of the two women. He was now
their sole earthly friend, and whatever was
doneifor their good must be done quickly.

But what could he do? Hardin asked himself
this in despair. It was very dark here in the
forest depths, and a heavy foot would leave no
trace for the unassisted eye. '

Only by torchlight could be hope to learn
aught, and that was now out of the question.
Such an act would assuredly betray him into
the hands of the savages, when not all the skill
and cunning of anecotah could effect his es-
cape again. Upon his knees Hardin sought for
some clew to the mysterious disappearance, but
in vain. Eyesight was of no avail; to the sense
of feeling the ground was all alike.

Then, although he knew the folly of such a
course, Ellis proceeded to light a torch, intend-
ing to learn, if possible, who the abductors
were, and the general direction taken by them
with their captives. By doing so he risked
death, and endangered all ho of aiding the
the two women; but that con] not be avoided,
unless he was content to await daylight.

With his flint and steel Hardin soon hada
small, dr knot flickering faintly, and then
bending ow down to the ground, he sought
eagerly for the desired knowledge. But for
some time in vain. He,could distinguish nothing
save his own footprints and those of the two

women. ,
He followed the latter to the path, and there
lost the claw, in two small spots, where the
ground was disturbed as if by a struggle. _ Upon
the hard grannd of the path the feeble light of
the torch was not sufficient to guide him; the
fontsteps of the outlaws were invisible.

,1 Hardin cast aside his torch, convinced that he
could do nothing until daylight should come to
assist him. Though very hard, he knew he
must wait until then before proceeding further;
and meanwhile. what woul be the fate of his
lost friends? Where were they, and in Whose
power?

With a groan of agony, Ellis sprung to his
feet and rushed madly away through the forest.
He could not remain still while they might be
sufiering worse than death. Though hopeless
of accomplishing anything, he must keep in mo-
ticn. » .

./l

l

 

 

His brain throbbed madly, .and'it seemed as
though he would suffocate. His veins appeared
filled with molten lead, instead of blood. With
a low cry he tore off his hunting—shirt and flung
his but aside, baring his feverish brow to the
cool breeze. .

The startling events of the “night had wrou ht
a great change in him. His mind, so terri 1y
tried, appeared to give way, and the young
settler strode through the forest, unheeding
whither he went, not knowing even that he was
in motion. His brain seemed on fire. He was,
for the time being, insane. .

For full an hour Hardin Ellis maintained this
killing pace, his limbs unconscious of fatigue.
He had left the log cabin far behind him, and
was rapidly nearing the Indian village, although
he knew it not.

He was now garbed as he had been when
Wuzecutah pronounced him aMiami warrior.
it was as though the original Petalesha had re-
turned to life again.

A keen and watchful ear heard the careless
footfalls of the young settler, as he neared the
Outskirts of the village, and one of the sentinels
stole stealthin forward to investigate the un-
usmil sounds. A dread surprise awaited him.

As Hardin approached, the savage gained a.
fair view of his features while crossing a moon-
lighted spot. A life-long friend of Petalesha’s
he know every streak and line of the dead
brave’s war—paint: and now, despite the fact
that he had stood beside the chief as he fell
dead. he beheld his comrade before him, wear—

ing the look of life! ‘ ,

Trembling in every limb, the savage allowed.

his half-leveled rifle to sink to the ground. He
shrunk fi‘ax‘fully back as the silent figure brushed
slmvly past him, so close that an extended arm
could have connected the two. ” .

Probably had not the Indian been so beWil-
dered at the sight of his dead friend’s war-
paint, he would have detected the difference in
feature; but asit was, he did not, and when
Hardin had vanished from view, the red-skin
sunk to the ground, dazed and completely be-
wildered.

Ellis strode mechanically onward and entered
the clearing where stood the Indian village;
that of Wanou, the great Miami chieftain. It
was brilliantly lighted up, as though for some
Eatiyity, although there was but little noiseor

ust e.

Numerous forms could be seen, but they were
mostly those of women and children; what raw

men there were besides the few guards being

too old and feeble to take the war-path. -

With a rigid look u on his face—a ston glare
in his eyes—Hardin llis strode toward t scen-
ter of the village. He saw nothing—heard
nothing of What was going on around him.

Upon his broad breast was the totem of the
Miami—beside it was the Rod Crow that gave
Petalesha his name. A white grinning death’s-
head upon its brow; all symbols—~every line
had been faithfully reproduced by the cunning
hand of Wazecotah.

At first the savage crowd gazed upon the
slowly approaching figure in surprise and au-
riosity.
and what his mission might be. But then an
the unconscious settler walked on into the full
glow cast around by the huge bonfires this
mg changed to one of stupefled horror.

One and all recognized—as they thought—the
hereon of their famed warrior, the lamented
Petalesha, the Red Crow. Of him who was
dead; what had been forgotten that he should
return to them as if in life!

Thena wild cry arose from the assembly, as
they noted the stern frown that contracted his
brow. Fearin the anger of a dead man they
turned and fle in horror; all but one.

The stupefled brain of Ellis awoke‘at this ‘

paused and glared

loud-sounding cry. He
Where was

around him in wondering surprise.
he—how came be there?

As he glanced around, Hardin caught
glimpse of his tawny-bowed arms.
came to his mind like a flash of light. He com-

prehended the truth; the more readily that this

was not the first time he had been in that sort
of trance-like state. -
His quick wit told him that he was in t

danger of his life. True, the savageshad will -

momentary dismay; but this would not last

long; and then returni there surely‘would be

391m» among them all w 0 would penetrate his
iszuise. ’ ‘

He did not know that hourly all theabIe- ‘

bodied warriors had left the town. Even if he

had. it would not have, made much diaeren'ce.

Those who remainedmwomen, half-grown boys

and old,men as they were—could easily over-
» i \ . l .1

3

hey merely wondered who he was:

feel- -

BI,
Then it all ‘

 

 

 *;szrr-rw-w '- 1'": v:~:< ..

.mw
'

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

' has kept it ready for him.

M

Mink Coat/the Death. Shot.

9

/

 

 

power him by more weight of numbers, when
ones they detected the imposition.

A single slight figure, remaining while all
others had fled. attracted his attention. It was
slowly crawling toward him, half~prnstrateth
A second look showed him it was :1 woman, her
face painted black and her hair cropped short.

Her dress, ragged and evidently cut from in‘
tention, told him the truth. He remembered
the words of “lazecotah, spoken at the cabin:

" You ('Ould‘delft'il'eel‘vil Uncle/1h), hisfavoritc
squall)!”

it came to him now like an inspiration; this
woman was Oneknto. She alone of them all
dared to approach the supposed dead man. Who
else could it be?

More than ever Ellis realized his danger.
Could he deCeive hm' eyes, sharpened by love?
Would not she at once penetrate his disguise
and ex ose the iinpostor who had stolen her
husban ’s name and dress?

In the center of the village—a good quarter of
a mile to the nearest point of woods-should the
alarm be given, what show had he of escaping?
Absolutely none. And as the woman still drew
nearer, Hardin raised one hand to his brow, as
if in pain. But it was to obstruct a fair view
of his features. Then the woman spoke, her
voice low and soft, but showing no signs of fear.

“The Great Spirit has heard the prayers of
Onekuto. He has sent her husband hack to her
that she might bid him good-by. Can Pata-
lesha speak? If so, let him say he is glad to see
his squaW—the mother of his dead child.”

Ellis dared not risk a reply, for fear his tones
should betray what he desired to conceal. So,
catching at the idea conveyed by her words, he
simpl bowed his head as if in sorrow.

“ Will the chief come to his lodge? Oueknto
She knew he would
come back to her. The Great spirit spoke to her
in sleep and bade her be ready to meet her dead
bi‘aVe. Come!" _

Hardin slowly followed the woman, who led
the way through the thickly clustering lodges,
now entirel deserted, save by an occasional
wolfish cur- 03. From a safe distance the af-
frighted savages were closely observing their
actions.

The young settler was sorely perplexed. He
felt that discovery must come soon, and how to
avoid it he could not divine. Once under the
full glow of the lighted lodge—as he could see
through the open door—the imposition must be
detected.

Onekato respectfully stood aside to allow him
to enter first. Not knowing what else to do,
Hardin entered, followed by the woman, who
closed the door-flu behind her. ,

Just then an incident occurred, so unexpected
that Ellis could not uard n ainst it. With. a
low. grating snarl, a ungry— coking dog rushed
out from behind a ile of skins, and making a
vicious snap, buri its long, keen teeth in the
call” of the counterfeit Indian’s leg.

The sudden onset and acute pain caused Elie
to forget the peculiar part he was playing, and,
turning with an an y cry, be dealt the d a
furious kick that hur ed him to the further side
of the lodge, howling in agony. At the same
time a low cry broke from the lips of Onekato.

it told Hardin that he was detected, and he
knew there was no time to be lost. He turned
quickly toward the woman, muttering in a
threatening tone:

“' Don’t speak—cry outfittind I will kill you l"

Although in his excitement he spoke in Eng-
lish, there could be no mistaking his meaning.
But still the woman did not obey. Frightened
at the,sudden discovery, she uttered another
cry, loud and. shrill.

1: Was no time to be fastidious. It was either
her or him, and the settler did not hesitate for
a moment. Then his strong hands clutchd her
throat, effectually checking all further outcry.

Still. than I: so greatly excited, he did not
forget thuts e was a Woman, and raising her
from the floor he carried her to the pallet, still

stifling her cries. A simple plan had resolved 1

with“ hki‘linindi; ed b

ith s i quic en y the im endin dan-
ger, Ellis speedily tore ieces {mill herzdl'efls,
and bound her arms be ind her back. Half.
dead with terror, and not yet recovered from
the severe choking be had administered, One-

, kato was silent. t

Then he hastily fastened a re: between her
jaws also securing her feet. He could hear
shrill cries without the lodge. and knew that the
alarm had been given. Only a bold daring
could avail him ought now, and that course he

. resolved to follow.

The confused trampling of feetlsounded near-
er, and Hardin know that the Indians were

 

 

gathering courage from concert. Should they I
attempt an entrance, all would be lost. '

Glancing hurriedly around him, Hardin
caught sirrht of the verV thing he needed, alarge
panther—s {in robe, gayl y bedizencd with beads :
and stained quills. Catching this up, he flung it
over his shoulders, so that one corner partially
concealed his face.

Then he boldly flung aside the hanging skin
that served for a door, and emerged, dropping
it behind him again. A quick glance took in
the situation, and truly, it was one well calcu-
lated to try the stoutest heart.

Nearly one hundred savages, men, women
and children, were advancing in a compact ,
body, all brandishing some weapon, uttering
shrill cries and shouts as though to keep up
their courage. At the appearance of the coun-
terfeit Pctulesha, they a l paused, as if by com—
mon consent.

For a moment Hardin Ellis hesitated. There
were two routes to choose from; one directly
through the wood—the other in the opposite
direction. 0f the two he chose the boldest
course.

His disguise hcd proved good, and aided by
the robe, he felt he could pass them undetected.
Besides, did he take the other, it would be but
natural for the Indians to follow him, and then
passing directly in front of Petnlesha‘s lodge,
some of the number might be tempted to
enter, to learn from Onekato the cause of her
alarm.

So drawing himself up to his full hight, one
hand clutching his rifle, the other holding the
ends of his robe, Ellis slowly stalked toward the
crowd, his eyes wearing a. fixed stare. DEspite
his peril, it was only with the greatest dilficulty
that the young sett er couldlmaintain the rigid-
ity of his facial muscles, as he behold the red-
skins separate, and fall back upon either side,
in ludicrous haste.

Siowly and deliberately, looking neither to
the right nor the left, Hardin stalked along the l
lines of awe-struck savages, and then passing ‘

l
l

 

the last one, he kept on toward the lorest. Al-
though itching with the desire to flee at the top
of his speed, he kept himself down to the same
deliberate step until he had nearly reached the
edge of the timber. .

Then his heart gave one wild lea . From be~
hind him he heard a shrill cry. an then beheld
the form of Onekato rush from her lodge,
screaming wildly some words that he could not
distinguish.

The loud. angry yells that uprose from the
savages, told Ellis that his audacious was was
known, and then without waiting for more, he
sprung into the forest, dropping the robe that
had stood him in such good stead.

Pa using for a moment to hearkcn, Hardin
distinguished the quick, heavy tramp of the
i‘eILskins, as they dashed after him in hot pur—
suit. Trusting to the darkness to cover his
move, Hardin turned abruptly to the right, and
gliding rapidly yet noiseless y along, skirting
the enemy, hoping thus to throw them off his
track at least long, enough for him to gain a safe
distance. ,

When nearly half— way around the village,
Hardin struck off into the woods, running at
full speed, feelin assured that he was beyond
hearing of his 'oes.'~ For nearly two miles he
maintained this rate of speed, and then feel-
ing comparatively safe, he Blackened his pace
the better to study out his location and to re-
gain breath.

But his troubles were not yet over. He was
doomed to encounter a still greater peril than
any preceding one of that eventful night.

- 3 he passed beneath the overhanging‘limbs
of a huge tree, Hardin walked slowly, his mind
dwelling n n the mysterious disappearance of
Minnie ang0 her mother. Suddenly he heard a
wild yell. and are he could glance up, a heavy
body dropped from the tree, striking full upon
his shoulders, felling him to the ground. almost
smothering him with the soft dirt and decayed
eaves.

Then, with a clinging form upon his back,
Hardin felt a strong band clutch his hair “and
forcibly drawback his head. He beheld a bright
knife glittering over his ex d throat—lie be-
held a air of wild, glaring eyes staring him full
in the ace—a. low, rating snarl, fierce and un-
earthl ,souncled in is earsl

Wit 9. low cry. Ellis threw up one hand to
avert the descending weapon. *

CHAPTER VIII.
LO

VISA.
THE. heavy door closed with a sudden clung

‘ ing form in her arms.

 

behind the forms of the two outlaws, Captain
Carpenter and Hard Hackney. Minnie and her

I

N .,

mother were left alone with the woman he had
called Louisa and her child.

For some minutes neiiher s )l:e, but stood
gazing at each other; but then innie went to
her mother‘s side, just in time to catch her faint-
The trials of the night
had been too much for her to bear, and she felt
that she should die. '

“ Let me help,” cried Louisa, springing for-
ward. “ You look ill, torr. Help me to lay her
upon the lounge yonder. There; hold her
head, while I get some water. Do not worry.
It will be over in a minute. She has only
fainted.”

“ My God!” moaned the poor girl in agony;
“she is dead! First father, then Hardin, new
mother. Oh, I shall go mad!”

“No, it is not so bad as that. Don’t give
way to despair altogether. Be brave, and
all will come around right yet,”cheerily re-

lplied Louisa, the sudden emergency having

aroused her from her usual condition of apa—
thetic despair.

Already she looked like another. person.
The vacant expression had vanished from her,
face—the dazed look from her eyeS' a bright
fllhh suffused her cheek, and rendered her fairly
beautiful.

That she had been once, not very far in the
past, an unusually beautiful woman, none who
saw her now could have doubted. Her tall
elegant figure, although somewhat wasted an
less full, was still graceful and pleasing; her
hair long and unconfined, was still purely
black and luxuriant. Her complexion was
somewhat pallid and wan, but was still clear
and smooth. All in all, she was not such a one
as might have been looked for in a place like that.

Ber prediction was fulfilled, for Mrs. Holmes,
finally opened her eyes, fully conscious, though
very weak. With a feeble sigh she sunkback,
totally worn cut in body and mind, and fell into
a heavy slumber.

Minnie was too ill at ease to think of sleeping;
she was reflecting upon the probable fate of her
father and lover. nd then, as she recalled the
sinister uords of Al Carpenter, she shuddering-
ly glanced around the room, her eyes final y
resting upon the wishful face of Louisa, who sat
closely regarding her. '

“ When; am l—~what is this place?” asked
Minnie slowly, dreading to hear the reply, lest
her worst teams should be confirmed. _

“Don‘t you know? Don’t you know that
man? The one who brought you here, 1 mean,”
faltered Louisa.

“No. He found us in the woods, where We
had fled from the Indians.”

And then Minnie briefly detailed the events
of the night.

“Better for you if you had fallen into their
hands, rather than his,” bitterly muttered
Louisa. “They would have slain you outright
—-he will kill you, body and soul! He- is a
devil—a cruel, black-hearted fiendl’l V

"Why do you stay here then? If you hate ~
him so de( ply, why don‘t you flee to your home
—your f1 iends?” . ‘ r

“You see him?” pointing to the now ace-
fully sleeping boy. “ That is my reason. have
been guarded night and day, or if I was not, ‘
the would take him away rom me, so that I ‘
cou d not get him. . They knew that he was all
I had left upon earth to ove—I could not sham
don him.” ’

“Then lie—he is not—your-l” faltered Min, 

nie, ceasing abruptly, as the brow of the woman
flushed hotly. ‘ “ ._

“My husta‘nd, on would say. No, he is not
my husband. alt on h—God pity me!—-he is
that boy’s father! ait~do not interrupt me.
Hear me out before you condemn me. I will
tell you all thatl know; it is not much, alt ,
my mind is clearer to—night than it has been or
a orig—long time. It seems as though the sight
of your pure face has done me good. But listen "
—it is not long.

‘~ Nearly three years ago~as near us I can re-' . ‘

collect, for all is very dim and indistinct to me
as I look back—4 first saw this man’ ' titer.
He told me that he loved me, and swim me to
be his wife; but I laughed at him. I loved
another, and I told him so. 1 can.remember
ghatkmuch-then there comes a. long, dreary

an .

“ I next remember being here with that child
——tbeu onlya few days old—in my arms. I
could not understand it at first. It seemed like
a dream. But then he came and told men
He swore he did not know that I was insane. e
said that I he and acted perfectly natural.
He said that it was my child—and his I I was I

like one stupefled. Icould not move orspe'nk. " - ’5 i

I thought 1 was papal ml...

 

   
 

 

 

 

 

“ But gradually I recovm‘ecl. The halls grew
stronger, and began to win upon my heart. I
had no one elseto love: i poured it all upon
him. Since then lnav» livmi on, hoping and
'watching for a chance to escape—to return to
my friends. I do not know where we are. I
have never been allowed to go half a mile from
this place, and there is always some one watch-
in me."

innie gazed at the woman pityingly. It was

a sad tale she had listened to. Her heart went
out to the poor being so foully wronged.

Louisa arose and walked around the room, as

if idl . But there was 9. deep purpose 'con—

‘ ceale beneath that listless demeanor. As she
returned to near the maiden, her eyes shone
brilliantly, and there was an eager look upon
her face that inspired hope in Minnie’s heart,
she scarcely knew why.

, “Listen, but do not move or s oak,” muttered
the woman, as she stood beside l innie, her eyes
fixed upon the wall, her lips not moving as she
spoke. “I was afraid he was listening to my
Words; But he is not-——ulthou h be may creep
up at any moment. Do you wish to esoapefrom
here 1?”

“Yes, ohl yes!” murmured Minnie, her entire
form trembling with revived hope.

“Hush! Be cautious, or you me ruin all!”
warned Louisa. “I can save you, think, and

V tree us all from that demon’s power. Are you

' i strong—can you endure greet fatigue? Can

. you walk a dozen—twenty miles?”

“Yes—anything; just so we can leave this
lace. I must find hel to search for father—

, r Hardin. To rescue hem if alive—to avenge

'- them it dead l” ,

‘ “Goodl then listen. There are over twmt
' A man in this building—or around it. They think
we cannot escape them. at we can. I had

my icions aroused by Carpenter’s alwa s

leaving a guard with me while in this room. {11

, , the other—one like this—he would leave me

3 / clone, only barring the door. 80 one night

 ' while here I pretended slee , and [saw one of

' these boards-«there near t e flre-place—lifted

up and aman enter. I knew then that there was

a. passage leading to the outer air somewhere, for
- I had been watching for hours, and he could

not new eased through the room without my

knowing t.

“Now we will fasten the door; bar it and
ah the furniture up against it—and then flee

, y this passage. We may be followed and

. brought back, but it is worth a risk. We may
escape—and for that chance I would risk my

. life. And so will you, if you reflect what fate

awaits on here.’

’ “I will—we will do justas you bid us. Lot

11,3 start—every moment is worth a life to me

, now. I—obl my father—my r father!"

’ r murmured Minnie, her voice cho ed with hys-
‘ taricalsobs,

_ “ Hark!” cried Louisa, turning quickly.

- From the outer room sounded the echoes of a.

, confused tumult; from beyond—evidentl in

, the o n air~came the sound of rifle»: ots,

.,,min ed with yells, wild and diabolical. The
"dim was self-evident—the nest was attacked
by savages!

The door was flung hastily open, and Cer—

’, punter entered. His face was flushed and his

voice trembled with excitement as he spoke.

. W‘Don’t be fri latched—we are attacked by

the cursed red-3k us; but they are only a few

and we will easily beat them off. So just re-
main, quiet and don’t fret. It will all be right

,  I just come in to set your fears at rest.”

‘ 3’ You need your fears alia ad more than we

. do, Albert Carpenter.” bold y replied Louisa,

her voice ringing as of old. “ You tremble like

u lenf. Do you come here to gain courage from
‘ women!”

I «Take cm, my girl," angrily replied Car-
' pewter, his eyes flashing venomously. ,/ “Don’t
ou‘ push me too far. 1 have an account to set-
, _.with you, anyhow, as soon as this muss is
‘ over. I heard a. l the lies you told Miss Holmes
. yonder until I was called OK as e red~skins
team sight. v I will make you 0 1: them yet.
‘ You know they 'were idle lies.”

» “ I know they were the truth,” boldly replied

Louisa, her face regaining its color, enished

aby the words of Carpenter regarding his eaves—
~ Jug. “ You can do no more than you have

,‘l‘Gan’t I, indeed? You forgot how I stood
Mm on and the men last week. A word
will eat em in; again. Then you will be
i lad enough to 0 ing to me and beg my protec-

, Beware how you let your ton ue run.
" A Best bridle it——it will be your ruin yet,” rntally

«width: outlaw chieftai . , ‘

Louisa sunk back in a chair, faint and tram.

r ,

  
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
   
   
  
   
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

1

v

 

Brady
' menu.

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

bling. The horrible threat had crusth her‘

spirit. With a fiendish chuckle Carpenter
turned and left the room, as a voice was heard
calling his name.

"Does he know~did he hear you, do you
think?" gasped Minnie, tremblingr lest their
newborn hope should be crushed.

“No—not at all. If he had he would have
made Lh‘ go to the other room. We are saved
now. They will be kept busy beating the In—
diams oil‘, and won’t give us a thought until it
is over. Rouse your mother now-we must be
at work. EVL‘I'y moment gained now is another
chance for freedom.”

Mrs. Holmes was quietly aroused and told the
plan. She received it in silence, a wan smile
playing around her parched lips. Her mind

ad not yet recovered from the blow that had
fallen so heavily.

Minnie wept at the sight, but could not pause
to awaken the sleeping senses now.
too precious.

The heavy oaken table was cautiously moved
against the door, and then the lounge placed
upon it. The other furniture was then added
to the barricade, which at best could delay the
opening of the door for but a. few minutes.
Still, it seemed a protection, and made the
women feel safer.

Thus trembling with conflictin fear and
hope, Louisa opened the cunning y-concealed
trap-door, and glanced down. A narrow pass-
age was revealed, apparently leading directly
into the bowels of the bill.

It smelled damp and noisome, but the women
did not hesitate. Taking the still slumbering
child, Louisa led the way, closely followed by
Minnie, who held her mother’s hand. Then the
trapdoor was lowered behind them, and they
were enveloped in most intense gloom.

With an involuntary shudder, Louisa led the
wa along the narrow passage, forced to creep
on or hands and knees.

 

CHAPTER IX.
WORKING IN CONCERT.

£12.an ELLIS flung u one hand to ward off
the descending blow. eve of life lent him
strength, and us his assailant’s wrist fell into
his hand, its downward progress was checked.

Taken at such a fearful disadvantage, how-
ever, the younisettler could have withstood his
antagonist for ut a few moments. at best. The
heavy pressure upon his back—the strong band
drawing his head backward—the twisting of the
hand he had caught, united, proved toomuch.

But the oung borderer’s end had not yet
come. As 9 gained a fair view of his foe’s
face, is glad cry broke from his lips. He felt
that the peril was over.

“Brady—Joe Brady. man, don’t you know
me? Would you kill a. friend?” he gasped, as
the knife~baml was wrosied from his clutch.

The old hunter—for it was indeed he—stari.ed
in wonder. But he did not speak, and the wee-
pon hung suspended above the young man’s
throat.

“ My God! man, would you murder met 1’m
awhite mun—us much so as you are. Don‘t

you rvmember Hardin Ellis? You stopped at '

our cabin for near :1 week.”

“I know the voice,” slowly muttered the
half-crazed hunter, as if to himself. “ But it is
an Indian who a aka. The other was whitr."

“And so am , ifyou rub the paint oil’. Let
up, man! Your knees are as sharp as pine
knots,” rumbled Hardin, as Brady slowly low—
ered his nife. -

“Let him arise, old man,” muttered Mink
Coat, as he also descended from the tree.
“ Beauty shall watch him."

“Hallo, who are you P” cried Ellis. in sin"
prise, keenly relying the strange being, not no-
ticing the wof that eyed him suspiciously,
showm its gleaming fangs threateningly.

“ A riend, if you are an honest man. if you
are not—then beware! I am their enemy—I
and Beauty, here.”

“ Who is he, Brady?” asked Hardin, turning
to the old hunter, who stood moodin leaning
upOn his long rifle.

“ Mink Cost.”

"The Death Shot! And this is the man?”
echoed Ellis, in great surprise, as he gazed curi—
ously upon the strange being of whom he had
heard so much, who now crouched to the
ground, caressing the head of the fawning

wolf.

Aronsiu himself, Brady asked Hardin the
meaning 0 his ma dermis». and the young set-
tler briegy detailed in adventures. In return

d him something of his own move-

’_

Time. was ,

 

' i  fig

 

'1 my -—iio and Link Cosh—had cad}; eluded
the pursuit of the millsws, 'u hose ardor cooled
quite pc'rceplib’ly upml [turning that one of the
fugitives was none: n‘lui‘ than the Death Elliot.
But it was fully sunset when the two men
mused for rest, at one oi" the secret haunts of
l ian Coat.

Then sallying forth. intending to visit the
vicinity of the robbers" nest, in boprs of learn-
ing definitely whether ille fair singer was in-
deed the daughter, so long lost, of Brady. they
had heard the approach of liardin, and swung
themselves up into the trzw. l‘nit Sz't'illg—‘fl he
had suppose4l~a solitary have Brady had re~
solved to rub him out, and making his leap, the
affair ended happily, as already oetailed.

“ \Vell,” said Hardin, as the old scout con»

‘ eluded; “I will keep you company for a part of

the way, at least, as ii; was nor for from there
that] lost my friends. loan do nothing unlil
morning anyhow, as it; is.”

“Good! You help me and TH help you. Is
it 11 hurgnin i”

“ Yo: "

“ Very well. then, let’s go. Mink Coat let;
Beauty lead the way. lere is no time to lose.
We must find a hiding place in the hills before
daylight.”

“ I can lend you inside the den, if you wish
it,” laughed the Death Shot. ’

“ Are you in earnest!”

“ Yes. Like minks, they have one hole to o
in at and another one to come out of. I caug 1:
one there once, and ' afler sending him to his

master, I followed the hole to its other end. I,

could send them all up to the bright stars yon—
der, if I wished, with one little spark. But it
don‘t see-m right. They should go doump—not
up!" muttered Mink Coat as they strode rapid-
ly nlong.

“How so? What do you mean, my friend?"
cautiously queried Brady.

“They keep a bulldozer: kegs of powder
down there, in a hole." ,

“ if it was not for Lou—4 Mink Coat,” said
Brady, excitedly, laying one hand upon the
othersshoulder; “promise me never to touch
this 03 until I say you may. I believe that that
women we heard singing to—day is my child. I
must save her first. Then I don’t care what.
you do. Will you promise me?"

“Yes—I promise.”

“Well, then, lead the way to this hole. We’ll.
see what it looks like, anyhow»: Mayhap ’twill
come handy to us.” ,

Then the trio—or quartette, if Beauty be
not ignored —-— proceeded in silence toward
the nest. For half an hcur they kept u the
long, swinging stride, their eagerness geing
such that fatigue was unfelt. '

Then they simultaneously paused, each utter-
ing a. little exclamation, and listening with
breathless attention.
the sharp rattle of firearms—the shrill yells

' and hoarser shouts telling of the rival races in

 

deadly collision.

“The red-skins have attacked the robbers"i

den!” muttered Mink Coat.

“ Then We must hurry. It the red devils once
et inside, we may be too late to do an
‘hey’ll kill our friends, tool" cried

springing forward.

As they neared the range of hills, Mink Coat

veered to the left of the spot from whence. still

rady,

proceeded the sounds of firing, and after cross- ‘

ing a slight ridge, began stealtbily creepin
along under cover of the dense bushes unt‘

the bottom of a long and rather deep ravine was ‘

reached.

From this point, nothing could be seen of the
nest. A high hill concealed it from view. And
then as Mink Coat waited for his comrades to
approach, his eyes were fixed keenly upon a
good sized clump of bushes growing from the
op site side of the ravine. v

"hese be indicated as being where the mouth
of the subterranean passuee was concealed.
Brady urged an immediate entrance, but

Mink Coat demurred, saying it would be best.

to take a little scout around. to learn how mat-
ters were working at the nest, before venturing
inside.

“1 will go,” said Hardin; “I am pretty
fair in their lingo, and wear the dress of a
Miami. It will be safer for me than either of
you. . 

“ Hist!” muttered Mink Coat, as Beauty ut-
tered a faint snarl. “There are some persons
coming up the ravine new i” V,

,In a few moments the fact was placed bevond
a doubt, even to the less practiced ear of Ellis.
He could hear the shufliin
rocky shale, and then can! distinguish several
forms, dusky and evil-looking in their war

From before them came‘

good. .

tootsie)»: upon the ,

 

.m’. A" \-

.___._ g ._._., ‘fnfi -_.

ufi ,.,.,

 

 

 v

. MN; on... ..

 w, w,

 

 

paint and plumes. They numbered over a
dozen, all t: l').

ll; was quite evident that they little Knspet-ted
the presence of a foe, so near at hand, for they

were eagerly discussing the details of some l 8

plan, and were too deeply interested in it, to
[five much attention to the surrounding objects.
"rom what little Hardin could glean, they in-
tended scaling the hill back of the nest, and
learn if it would not be possible to roll down
heavy rocks upon the roof, while their comrades
kept the besieged busy in front.

iThey glided past the Cover: of the three men,
unsuspecting their presence, and Hardin gave a.
slight start as' be recognized among them the
stately form of ll'nmcotnh, his friend. Then
just as they had rounded the turn, though slill
in sight, Hardin saw the chief stop and stoop
down to fasten his moccasin.

With a gesture to his cwmrados to remain
quiet, the daring settlI-r arose and glided to»
ward the Miami, keeping in the shudmw. Then
as lVazecotah stood erect, Ellis uttered a slight
chirp. It was a. signal frequently used by them
upon their still-hunts; and the chief glanced
keenly around him.

Ellis attracted his attention by a gesture, and
then sunk back into the shadow. Wazecotah
mutt‘red a few words to the nearest savage,
and then retraced his steps.

As he stood before l'uc disguised settler his
face was calm and immobile; but there was an
unusual glitter in his dark eye that told he was
ill at ease. In a low tone he spoke:

“ Why is my brother here, and alone?"

Ellis quickly made known the misfortune
that had befullen their friends. The chief list-
ened in silence and seemed pondering deeply.

“Wazecotah knows where they are,” he at
length uttered, in a tone of conviction.

“ Where—hut no, how can you know 1”

“ Wazecotah don‘t know for certain, but he
believes they are here—~in this big lodge. A
scout saw two men go in there with two
squaws. He did not know who they were.
But it must have been them. \Vazecotah
thought you were far away and out of danger,
by now.”

” If they are in there how can we get them,
then '6" anxiously qusu'ied Hardin.

“ The Miamis will take the lodge, and if
Wanecotah cannot save his friends he wxll die
with them. But it will be hurd. The rmlmen
are very angry. The white dogs shoot straight.
Much blood has been spilled out there,” gloomin
replied the Indian.

.“Chief, can I trust you?"

“ My brother!”

“ Pardon mewlt was foolish to ask it. I know
I can. Then come with me. I run show you a
trail that will take you inside the lodge. Perhaps
we'can find our friends without alarming the
bad pale-hoes. If we can, and set them free,
than on can bring your braves around here and
an rise the enemy”

. he two frien s slowly and cautiously re-
traced their steps toward the tunnel, Hardin go-
ing in front to prevent his friends from being
alarmed at the appearance of the Indian, and
to notify them of the valuable ally he had so-

.cured.

 

CHAPTER X.
JOY AND Dusram.

v Tnnovou the devious passage the three wo-
men slowly crept, ignorant of what might lie
before them, or if instead of freedom, they were
not momentarily nearer todeath. They had not
the slightest idea of where the tunnel’s mouth
was; whether in full view of the nest, or beyond
the range of hills.

Then Louisa beheld a dim light, and knew by
the peculiar shimmer that it was the moon-
light shining through the bushes that screened
the‘tunnel’s mouth. Renewing her'caution to
the others, she crept forward to rcconnoiter. ,

Peering cautiously forth, she beheld nothing
suspicious. The direction from whence the fir-
ing proceeded told her that the nest could not.
command a. view of the spot.

In a low voice she bade Minnie advance, and
then stepping through the bushes, they stood up-
right once more. low cry of des air broke
from Louise’s lips, as severe dusky. gures "up-
rose from their covert and sprung forward to
ward them.

Nor were the others less alarmed. Minnie
saw that. the twoforemost wore savages. Surely
they could be none other than enemies!

“ Minnie—thank Godl I have found you—-

'ulive and well i” cried Hardin Ellis, as still dis-

guised an Petalesha, he sprung st Wazoootah

and clasped the maiden closely n hisarms.
,She‘ could no longer doubt. She knew the

    

; the. worst now.

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

voice, she recognized the features, despite the
hideous mask of paint, and with a low cry of
3 mest intense joy, her head sunk upon his broad
I breast, great tears dropping from her grateful

yes.
“ Hardin Ellis,” slowly uttered Mu. Holmes,
“ where is Andrew—~leere is my husthnd!”

“ Tell her, chief; I cannot!" nuillored the
young settler, a bitter pang wringing his heart.

“ Hardin, you do not—you cannot nuan that?
He is not—not—é" faltered Minnie, her cheek.
blanching again.

" My darling, do not give way. Keep up for
her sake,” pleaded Hardin, anxiously.

' “ Tell me—l can—“I will li‘V to bear it."

“‘ Minnie, I would have died to have sawed
: him, but it was not so ordained. He was dead
before I left you. The savages killed him al~
most at his own doorstep."

The maiden did not reply. She could not.
She lay there, supporth by the strong arms of
her lover, weak and trembling. It was dread—
ful to thus have all hope banished forever.

*anu-otah stepped forward and rsspectfully
clasped the hands of the widow. He gazed down
into her eyes, sadly, gloomily.

For a moment she returned his gaze and then
her eyes Grouped. A convulsive tremor agitated
her entire frame; then it became firm and rigid.
Her voice sounded clear and distinct as she
spoke. She swirled another woman.

“ That will do. You need not tell me. Iknow
Andrew is dl-llll 1"

Meanwhile. Joe Brady had been keenly eying
L luisa, who >l<u|fl a little apart still holding her
sleeping boy. Asad smile played around her
lips as her goal rested upon the forms of the
lovers.

Then the old hunter glided forward, a puz-
zled, dissatisfied look upon his face. half-
scared glow lighted up his eyes, and his fea-
tures worked convulsively.

Placing one hand upon Louise’s shoulder, he
gently turned her around unLi! the moonlight
fell athwart her features. She gazed at him,
wouderingly.

“Who are you, lady? I thought you one
very near and dear to me, whom I lost years
ago. But Ifenr I am in error; my eyesight is
failing mo of late. It is her figure— or hair,
eyes and voice; but the face is strange. Who
are you? I pray you tell me, and do not trifle
with the heart of a poor old man who has been
almost driven crazy with sorrow and sufferin .”

“I do not know you, sir,” gently replied t 9
women. “ I fear you mistake me for some one
else. Who is it you look for!”

” My daughter, Louisa. He stole her-AI
Carpenter,”and the old hunter fairly ground his
teeth with fury, us be uttmed the hated name.

“ I‘ do not now her. He used to call me
Louisa, and threatened to strike me if I did not
answer to the name. But I am Lottie Hender-
son. He stole me from my home nearly three
years ago.”

All conversation was now interru ted by a
loud, heavy thud, that jarred the whole ground

of the hill back of the robbers’ host.

The cause was plain. The pin of rolling
down rocks upon the roof bode fair to prove a
51100855.

There was great peril to the little party, so
strangely brought together, in staying where
the now were. At any moment another band
of minis might come up the ravine, or else the
outlaws, seeing that their stronghold must soon
soon succumb, might bethink themselves of the
tunnel and endeavor to escape by its aid.

In either case a collision could scarcely be
avoided, in which the fugitives, as the weaker
party, must 0 down. None knew this fact
better than azecotah, and with a gesture com—
manding attention he spoke, using broken Eng—
lish, that all might understand his eaning.

“Plenty big danger here now. 95’ you all
go ’way 05. Miami come—bad pale face some
——mek hoa trouble. Ribber good—much good.
Got no see p. Bes’ go there mighty quick: git
in canoe—paddle like debble. Block—house good
*plonty. It got no scalp neider.”

El‘ltYou think it is our safest plan, chief i" asked
is. v

"Yeh-——fo’ sure. Git canoe by black rock—~

go down ribber.” ,

“ But; you—will vou go with us?”

“ No: mus’ stay here. You it ’way off—den
tell Ingun man—go in hole—kilfplenty bad pale-
face. Got. in trap, all same like musquash.
Plenty ecu] alive. Heap good i”

“ But if t ey see our trail'and follow it? We

followed by shrill, exultant yells from label-res: ~

 

 

paisyomen along, and they can’t trawl very ,
as * ~
“Womotah fool Injun den. Mel: go 'nudder

 

I

 

way, if kin. If won'l go. den he step off—~run
fin’ friends—th 11mg]: ‘woy off. Mus‘ kill
Wazecotah’fore hurl “lute brudder,”earnest~
ly added the chiel.

The wisdom of his m; ’
to all, and then, led in
glided away up the uni .s thesafest mode of
lea ring i‘m vicinity llllpri ived. Ellis assisted
Mllllllt‘. Brady l.-l‘ 1;.oiher, while Mink
Coat carrivd the hi 1 ll- l-o) , who had awakened.
but “ho seeme'i lnrl'lri‘ily;u$ home with his
strange nurse, i-tsiling , coniidingly down
against the. smooth suit in! of the Dead Shol’s
coat

The ravine was followed up to its head, and
then crossing the hill, the. little party wound

-‘ was perceptible
l... Coat, the party

  
 
      

along through the iorest,heading toward the v

river that now seemed their haven of safety. 1

Their progress Wu: necessarily very slow and to»
(lions. as Lottie—or Louisa, as we have hereto—
fore known her—was unaccustomed to walking,
while Mrs. Holmes was still faint and weak.

Thus a priceless halt-hour was lost by the lat-
tu- woman’s fainting. and only until a rude lit»
ter was constructed.
Brady and Hardin curried her thus, and through
the tangled forest, ll was any thing but an easy
or expeditious moliv of traveling. ,

The bright sun \\ as already shining dewnu on

 

void the flight be resumed. ,.

the worn and jilued party when they reac ed .

the river’s hank. And then in looking by the
black rock as directed, to their horror, no mm
was to or found J _

Desperate and ’alarmed for the safety of his
friends, Hardin, assisted by Mink Coal: and
Brady. sought thoroughly in every spot where
a canoe c: nld possibly be found; but in vain.
Then the Death Shot uttered a low cry as be
bent his car to the ground.

The rapid tramp of some one approaching at '

full speed was heard, and then a dark form '

sprung out into their midst.

“ Don’t shoot—don’t shoot i" cried Hardin,
knocking up the leveled rifle of Mink Coat. It’s
Wazecotab, our friend l”

CHAPTER XI.
wazuooran's VENGEANCE. -
THE Miami chief stood silently watching the
little party as they wound along the ravine,

 

and after they had disa peered from view for ,

some minutes, he turns and retraced'his steps
toward the front of the nest. A dark frown
now disfigured his naturally handsome features.
and evidently he was resolved upon some dew
perate deed. » ,

He sought out Wanou, the head chief, who
commanded the “er-party in person. That
worthy now stood gazing up at the hill-crest
above the log building.

A party of savages could be seen there, slowly . '

rolling over a huge rock that could not have

weighed less than a ton, heading it toward a .

point from whence. it set in motion down the
bill, it must dash directly upon the roof. Then

with a wild yell the ponderous missile was: .

hurled from its bn euro. .

Slowly at first, but gaining momentum at
every leap, the huge b‘owlder dashed downward
upon its work of destruction.
leaves and dust followrd its course: then with

onef mighty bound, it aligbted full upon the. 
r

on . . .
Nothin built of wood could have resisted I
The heavy oaken puncheons forum

that Shoe .

A dense cloud of 

ing the roofing crackled and broke like straws. :

The entire strurture quaked and trembled like
a house of cards beneath it’s builder’s breath.

The boulder sunk entirely‘from view at those .'

without.

Loud oaths and curses, mingled with shrieks “

of agony, coming from the doomed nest, told
that the missile had not been harmless. The
crisis was at band, and Wazecotah knew that

did not he speak speedily, the remnant of their ..
prev would still escape them by the subteva

nean mode of exit.

“Dope the chief wish to end this now 1"- he ;  

said to Wnnou who asked his meaniu .

“Wazecotah has got eves. and he DOWS h‘ow . ‘  ’K
to use them," quietly replied the Indian. “ Ed

has found a hole in the ground that leads in"

the lodge yonuu. "l‘he palel'aced cowards will ‘ ‘
be running away by it, unless we stop them.”

“Where is it?” ,

“Tell the warriors to follow, and you shallfl

see.” '

In five minutes the main body of the Mlnmis,

were dashing up the ravine, and none toosoon
for already several of the outlaws had emerged.
from the tunnel.

gully, those of his comrades who had 11
emerged cowered back in sullen despair.

A quick volley disposed of all , ‘ ,
VbutOne, and while he fled at full speed  3 ,, 7 I,
Y“ ’

 

 

 

 

 

 

l .

 

 

v

. led life.

' » silly forcin
. I '_.a atchet 11 one, a kni e in the other.

.

    

12

Several red-skins darted of! after the fugitive
greatly to the disquietude of Wazecotah. It
was already growing light, and might not they
stumble upon the trail left by his friends:) This
was far from unlikely, but still he could do
nothin to avert the danger.

Besi es, there was another duty he must per-
form; a duty to the dead. He had a vow that
must be fulfilled upon that night.

Pnusing before the tunnel entrance, the
Miamis poured into it a heavy volley of rifle and
musket balls. These were echoed back by a
few spiteful shots, though more than one shriek
rung out through the din, telling of death
agony. Then with VVanou and WuZecotah
leading the way, the red-skins rushed to the as—
sault, with shrill yells of exultant fury.

The outlaws were hemmed in by a cordon of
death. From the front of the building shots
were still being poured in through the loop«
holes and cracks made by the tumbling rocks.
Another heavy bowlder fell upon the ruined
roof, While those from the ravine still poured
through the tunnel.

Slowly retreating, the outlaws soon regained
the building, where they could be e to make a

- stand more successfully than in t is dark pass-
,n'ze. But they were foiled in their attempt to
close the trap—door. .

Wnnou and anecotah were close upon their
heels, and hurling the slab aside, they sprung
out into the room, Weapons in hand, with their
triumphant war~whoop ringing like a death-
knell in the ears of their foes. Then, as other
Miamis swarmed up the passage, a scene of
fearful confusion followed.

.The robbers were naturally daring, reckless
men, and now, cornered beyoan a hope of es-
cape, unless by a victory over their numerous
foes, they fairly outdid themselves. But it
was/all in vain.

Three against one was too great odds for them
to battle successfull . .

. Hard Hackney fell beneath the tomahawk of
‘Wgnou; Gabe Burke had disappeared from the
,9“? 38.

But while fighting furiously, Wazecotah’s
eyes often sought an active, well-built form
standing in one corner, wielding a heavy saber
with wonderful effect, seeming to bear acharm-

Toward this point the chief was gradu-
his way, fighting with both hands;

,1 .Then with a wild yell, strange and deadly,
"Wazecot’ah sprung before the pale-face, wav-
ing aside thewarrior who confronted him. With
a erce curse the outlaw leveled a furious blow
.at‘lhe chief’s head.

.‘ :The blade was adroitly avoided, artly by a
«nimble leap, partly by the strong-b aded knife;
and then ere the white man could recover his
guard, Wazecotah dealt him acrushing blow
upon the head with ,the flat side of his toma-

lr Vfuwk, and the ohtlaw fell to the floor like a
0

g.
_Wazecotah bound his hands with a stout belt,
and then sat down beside him.
x heed the strife that still raged around them,
although fast dying out, the outlaws rapidly

' V falling.

In a few moments the bound man 0 ened his
Eyes and glared wonderineg around im. He
ove to raise almond to his head, but in vain.

. [Then Wazacotah spoke, in a low, stern voice,

, gly pronounced the seeming Miami.

, min rarely-accented En lish:
" i “ hart Carpenter, 100 up. Do. you recog—
mize' me?” ,
I ' “No—70:1 are an Indian," muttered the out-
 ‘law chief—for it was indeed lie—but a startled
looked overspread his gore—stained features.
51am no Indian. 1 am 0113’ Ward 1” slow-
“ Now tell
maywhat you have done with the maiden you
stole from me that night-Louisa Brady!"
' “You—you lie! He is dead—they killed
Maxi” gasped Carpenter, glaring wildly at the

I, ‘2 disguised'aven r.

No, they d d not-«though it was not their

- - V fault—nor ours. They shot me, and flung my

. '/ body'intot

river for dead. But I was savod

Indians. That don’t matter nOW,

. l y sogne
 than . Tell me what you did with the girl?

~g ‘rhuch longer even if I would.

f. 531‘?

Qule ' there is no time to lose. Your men are
neava all down, and I could not save your life
Quick! Tell

,rme

. “I did not-Lobe ran away!" gasped Carpen-
terigreat drops of perspiration standing upon

' row.

‘ You lie now—tell me, or——-" ’
> To conclude the sentence. Wazecotsh—or Cliff
Ward,- as he declared himself to boo-raised his
keen swiping-knife. and gatherin up the long
hair of the outlaw, pressed. the 00k steel against

He did not.

 

Mink Coatithe Death Shot.

 

his skin, until the hot blood trickled from be-
neath it.

“ Mercy—mercy, for the love of God!” shriek—
ed Carpenter, striving to free himself from tho
vise-like grip, his eyes almost bursting from
their sockets with excess of terror.

“ You deserve none—you shall have none——
mercy is not for such as you. Tell me the
truth of what I ask or I will scalp you alive and
then roast you over a slow fire!” sternly spoke
the avenger.

“I will—I will! Only have mercy—spare

my life! Iain not fit to die!" gasped the rob
ber.
“ Speak quick! Where is Louisa Brady?"
“Deadl b'hc died—I did not kill her. We

had a. few words—I wanted her to be mine—she
refused and struck me in the face. It madden-
ed me. I was a devil then—not myself. I
struck her on the head, but only with my hand
—I did not know it was clinched until all was
over. I did not think it would hurt her—but it
did. She fell at my feet—dead! It nearly
killed me then, for God knowvs I loved her bet-
ter than I did my own life! Her scorning me
drove me to the had more than anything else.”

As he spoke, Carpenter seemed more subdued
and calmer than before. The dread past seem-
ed to come up before him and rob his present
peril of its terrors. _

With a cold, stern face, Wazecotah listened to
his words. His keen eye saw that the murderer
was telling the truth. There was no deceit in
the man’s tones or his face.

Then a steely litter filled the avenger’s eyes.
His form seemef to dilute and grow fuller, as he
spoke again:

“Albert Carpenter, you have done murder.
You killed the girl I loved better than life. You
tried to murder me, and failed throu h no fault
of ours. You have wrecked my ll 9 forever,
an made me an outcast. As you have sinned,
so must you atone. If you wish to pray, do so
now. When I count twenty it Will be too late.
At the last word you die!”

“ Mercy——mercyl I can not die will not die—l"
shrieked Carpenter, wildly. “ Spare my life——
oulv let me live and I will do any thingfor you!
I will be your slave—your dog—:any thing, Just
so I may live to repent of my misdeeds!”

“ No; it is too late now. You should have
thought of that before. Your doom is sealed,”
and then in a low, distinct tone the avenger began
to count _ -

Carpenter glared wildly at his executioner
and strove to speak—to plead for big; but in
vain. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth,
and the words refused to issue. Slowly the nu~
ml‘ruls were enunciated. .

Then came the fatal word—tweni y. Drown-
ing its utterance came a. dull, heavy (hurt, as the
bright steel blade hissed through the air and was
buried deep into the brain of the doomed
wretch.

One faint tremor—and then all was over.
The wretched outlaw would sin no more. He
was dead. I

Wazecotah~as we will still call him—arose
erect with a long~drawn breath. He felt no re-
morse for his dread act of ven eance. He had
been by far too deeply, wronge for that: But
still he did not experience the delirious Joy he
had anticipated. I

At that moment a Miami brave hastily entered
the room, through the tunnel, and told Wanou
of a discovery. He had been one of those who
had followed the fleeing outlaw up the ravme.

After the death "of this man, as they were re-
turning the Indians had stumbled upon a broad
trail that they easily recognized as being made
by white men and women, who had evrdeutly
fled from the nest. While the other two braves
had begun tracing it up, he had returned to im-
part the tidings.

Wamu instantly ordered a number of braves
to follow him, bidding Wanecotah remain to col-
lect the plunder gained by the 'Victory, and
after removing it, to fire the building. Then
leading his men, he entered the‘ tunnel and
followed the uide, bent. upon adding the fugi-
tive party to t e list of his victims. ,

Wazecotah remembered his pledge, and re-
solved to foil the chief, if to do so lay in his

war: if not. then he would die in. defense of

is friends. First bidding the Indians .pillage
the house, he left the place, and entering the
woods, took a roundabout course lll order to
head off the Miamis. and dashed through the
forest at breakneck speed, soon heading direct-
.ly for the black rock, where he expected to find
some trace of the fugitives, indicating their de—
partur for the block-house.

He k w that he would, gain at least a couple
of miles upon his late comrades, as they must

\

t

 

necessarily proceed at a slow rate in following
up the trail. This be trusted would be sufficient
start to enable him to guide them safely to the
block-house below.

We have already seen how utterly he was dis~
appointed when he found the party still at the
black rock. He feared then that all was lost.

" Why are you here?” be gasped, speaking in
English, but owing to their excitement, no one
noticed the difference in accent with the lan-
gua e he usually used.

“ ‘he both is, gonel” gloomily replied Ellis.
“ We can not find any signs of it.”

“Then there is no time to lose. We must
take down the river on land. We can not sto
to builda raft. In half an hour Wanou wil
be here with his braves. They are following
{your trail now. Come—quick—follow me!"
hastily ordered VVazecotah,as he stepped into
the water, shallow at this point.

He was promptly obeyed, a: d the little party,
forgettin their exhaustion in this extremity of
peril das ed at fair speed down the lin-l‘. For
neary half a mile they proceeded thus, when
the formation of the bank forced them once
more to the woods.

“Listen,” said VVezecotah, speaking hurriedly
as they pressed on: “we must be overtaken
before the block can be gained, with these
women. They are nearly exhausted now.
Our only chance now is in obtaining help from
the block—house. They are not attacked, and
can spare enough men to save us. A dozen
will do if you cannot get more. Wanou has
only about twenty braves with lnm. Who will
hurry on ahead and bring them up to our
assistance?“ ,

Three volunteered; Mink Coat, Brady and
Hardin Ellis. Of them Wazecotah singled the
old hunter. .

“ You know the place?”

“Like a book.”

“ Good! then you must hasten and bring hel .
Our lives all depend u on you. We will ma e
a fight of it, and hol out until you come, if
possible. But remember a minute lost may be
fatal. You understand?” /
"Yes; if man can do it, I will bring them up
in time. Shall you keep along the river?”

“Yes. You will hear our firinCir unless all is
over. Go now, and remember, if? you fail us,
our blood be upon your head!” ,

Without a. word the old hunter drew his belt
tighter and then sped awn , disappearin the
next moment among the crest trees. 5 he
said, if mortal man could accomplish the task,
he would do it.

And then the little arty pushed on with
speed lent by despair. hey knew that ere the
haven of safety could be reached they would be
overtaken and forced to make a stand.

The Miamis, when they found the change in
their vict-ims’ course, would divine the truth.
and without trying to follow the trail would
dash ahead to cut the fugitives off from the
block-house. Then it would be a struggle for
lit; or death, with the odds fearfully against the
w ites.

 

CHAPTER XII.
HAND 'ro mum.

Foe full an hour the little party fled at top speed
down along the river-bank, and then, by the failing
of Lottie and Mrs. Holmes, they were forced to
slacken their pace to a slow walk. Mink (‘oat and
Beaut led the way, while Wuzecotahdiad fallen
behin the better to guard against sur irise.

Suddenly aloud yell, from not far hind them,
startled the fugitives, and then Wuzecotah can?
dashing up. They all saw that the crisis was no
close at hand. -

The Miamis had reallyacted usthcchief predicted.
Instead of following along the 'rnll. lliey had Struck
by a more circuitous comse into the woods, expect-
ing thus to interce t the whites. . ‘

But miscalculatmg their 5. eed, they hurl struck
the trail, thus finding that heir intended victims
were still ahead of them. This it was that had
drawn forth the angry yells. ‘

“We must run for it," cried Wazecotali. “A
quarter of a mile below is where we must make a
stand, if at all. They cannot surround us, and must
face our rifles openly. We can beat them ofl until
hel comes." . « . .

nder his lead each man assisting a woman, the
little part dashed on At renewed; speed, while -
louder an more distinct came the vm ictive oils
from behind them, telling how rapidly the In lass,
were gaining.

“Here it isl” gasped Wazeco “and none too
soon. Let the women stand far bac .\ We will keep
them safe." .

The spotlthus found was of peculiar formation.
A long ravine or defile cut through a range of hills.
being barel wide enoughto allow a footman' to

use withou brushing the sides. At the point where

azeootsh had paused a narrow pass or cleft led
from the lefthand side down to the bottom of the
defile. Extending upward for a few yards, this

 

 

 

 

l
l

 

 

 

 

 

 

ended in a circular indentation that scé med chiseled
out. of the solid r ‘k. The overhangingr mugs and
rocks )l'L‘VGIltOd a shot from being obtained from
the hil vtop above, or indeed from any ‘place except
for a stretch of some twenty yards of the defile.

In this the little partyr crouched, and pie iared
their weapons for use. hat these soon won d be
needed. none could doubt, for WILll Wild yells the
red-skins dashed on; and then asthey flocked madly
up the defile, Wazecotah gave the order to fire.

His rifle uttered the dcath~warrant of Wanou,
while two others fell. Then, while they reloaded,
Mink Coat deliberately discharged his pistols.

A wild volley was fired by the Indians, as, cowed
by the fall of their chief. they fell back in momen’
tary confusion. With a low, gurgling groan, Mink
(Toat fell back, as if dead, with the blood gushing
from his breast.

Hardin hastil dragged him up to.wh.ere the wo-
men were, bid ing them restore him if possible,
while he returned to make good the defense of the
defile. Scarcely were the weapons reloaded, than
the onset came.

It was boldly met, but two shots could not check
the demons who had recognized Wazccotah, and
burned to punish the traitor. In the crowding not
one of the ritleshots from the savages took edect,
and then they pressed on to crush the daring defen-
ders by mere weight of numbers.

Side by side the two men stood, with clubbed
rifles, beating back the enemy, one after another,
as they strove to scale the slippery pass. At every
blow a foeman fell back. dead or disabled.

Beauty was down amid the savages. noth per-
forming her part, though sadly outnumbered. And
thus the struggle ra ed for fully five riiiiiutes; hor-
rible, deadly strife, t rat could not last long.

CHAPTER XIII.
A TRAGIC TALE.

Yours seemed renewed in old Joe Brady as he
dashed along through the forest, heading toward
the frontier-post at which he expected to gather
sufficient assistance to succor his friends, in case
worst should come and they be forced to stand at
buy, as he felt but little doubt would be the case.

The liaiflscared, vacant look was gone from his
face. now, and his senses were u n the keen alert.
The danger that threatened t ose who in their
vouch and beauty so strongly reminded him of his
loving Louisa, aroused his mind from the fog-like
vail that had encompassed it of late.

Thus he sped onward, choosing the less tan led
ratlis as if by instinct, eluding contact. with pen ant

ughs or gnarled tree-trunks With marvelous dex-
terity, m‘iheeding the pain caused by bleeding
scratches or bruises, nninindful of fati ue. only
thinking of those for whom he felt sucr a deep
anxiety.

The sun shone hot and sultry: the leafy tree-
tops scarce rustled with the fast-dying morning‘s
breeze; the perspiration rolled in great drops from
the hunter’s person and still he sped on, like some
weird phantom of t e wooded depths.

Then with a wild cry of terror, a human form
sprung up from a log before Brady, and with one

 

afl‘righted glance at the rigid features of the old ‘

hunter, turned and tied at break-neck s xd. And
that glance. so brief and fleeting, had a so sufficed
for Brady to recognize the fugitive.

All thoughts of his friends’ peril were banished;
he only thought of one tiring—revenge. He saw be.
fore him one of those whom he had hunted steadily,‘
almost day and night, for years gone by' he recog-
nized the fleeing form 0 Gabriel Burke, one of
those concerned in the abduction of his daughter
Louisa.

With a deep, hoarse cry of vindictive fury, the
bereaved father darted forward after the fu itive
robber. He forgot his fatigue; he ran as thong still
in his prime, and fresh of wind,

And Burke, too, sped along With a marvelous fleet—
ness, lent by terror. He was naturally a dari ,
reckless man, but there had been something in his
recent meeting with this avenger, that in a manner
unstrung his nerves.

He could not boldly face the man whose entire
life he had assisted to blight. Even had he been
completely armed, the facts would have been the
same. He would have fled as now.

The feet of one was winged wrth fear; those of
the other b intense hatred. It was truly a race for
life or deat . No other ending would come from it.

Joe Bradv's face was stem-set and almost expi-es.
sionless. nly his eyes betra ed the intensity of his
hatred. They blazed with a mid, deadly light that
boded ill for his foe.

The end came full soon. The foot of Burke
caught against a projecting root, as his head turned
to note he progress of his pursuer, and he was
flung with stunning force to the ground. One more
leap, and then with a shrill, blood-curdling yell of
vindictive joy, the old hunter was upon him.

The bewildered refugee was as a very child in his
hands. A giant could scarce have resisted success-
full that maniacal force, and ere the senses of the
out aw were full recovered from the shock, he was
securely bound, and and foot.

“ Where is my child f" The avenger-‘3 tone was
thrillineg fierce and high. I

“Let me go. With my life. an‘ I’ll tell ye all I
know," answered the now trembling wretch.

“ No~you need not plead; I have decided; die you
shalli’

“ You—you‘re goin’ to'mnrdeij me anyhow?"

“It is not murder—it is only Justice. You mined
my life—you stole away my child—perhaps mur~
dared her; and for all this you must pay. Tell me
where she is—whether alive or dead?"

“You say I‘ve got to die fer sure, so ef you want

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

3 to find out anythin‘ ‘bout thet gal o' yourn. why,
‘ jest do it, ifg/ou kin /”

“ You are a fool, Gabe Burke," quietly responded
Brady, with a peculiar smile that seemed to chill
the very heart's blood of the borderer. "I can
make you tell all you know, if you push me.‘

“How Y“ and an uneasy look crept into the doomed
man’s eyes.

“By torture." Now listen to me, and mark my
words well. But first—you say that you are the
only one who can tell me of my child?”

"Yas— ou know it," gloomin replied Burke.
“Si Roac , Hard Hackney an’ Cap‘n Al is all one.
Ef you wipe me out, then you‘ll never fin out
nothin’ at all. I won‘t tell—darned ef I do, so do
your murder! I‘ll only tell ye, ef ye promise to let
me go free."

For answer Brad
of dried leaves an

began scraping together a heap
small twi s, and then bending
over them, he deliberately e an strikin fire.
Burke watched his every motion he one fascmated.

The dry leaves caught fire from the smoldering

unk, and then the avenger carefully fed the tiny
glaze with twigs until the flame darted higher and
grew more strong. Then Brady began sharpenin
his long-bladed knife, with all the cool adroitncss o
a rofessional butcher.

his proved too much for the unstrnn nerves of
Gabe Burke. He cried out in a weak an trembling
tone:

" Hold on thar’—I‘ll tell!”

“ I thought as much. It was nearly time.“ quietly
added Brady, once more standing beside his cap-
tive.

“ Ef I tell you the truth, will you let me go, then '1”
i. No ..

“Will you do it quick, then—not sarve me like a
cussed red-skin ‘2”

“Yes. I promise you that. I will end it at one
blow.”

" You sw’ar it?"

“ Go on—I have given you my word,” impatiently
cried Brady.

“So be it, then. But ef you chuck on me, I'll
ha‘nt you till your dyin’ day! I' i make 'our life a
parfect hell You needn‘t laugh—I‘ll ( o it. An’
now lis‘en. I‘m goin‘ to talk right out flat-footed.
You caiii‘t do no more than kill me. nohow.”

“I helped to kcrry off your gal, for Captain Al—

he sot us on an' paid us fer the iiob. but I‘ve never felt
right ever sence. Ef I‘d ‘a‘ on y knowed how it was
goin’ to turn out, I’d a hen ruther ’a’ cut off my
right hand than to ’a’ did w at I did. Wal, then—
your go! is dead! ”
Brady did not speak. He gazed keenly at his cap-
tive. he eyes of the latter met. his fully and un-
flinchingly. He could read the truth afar down in
their depths.

A pale grayish shade settled over the features of

 

the old hunter. A choking sensation rose in his
throat. He strove to speak, but the words refused
to issue. He clutched convulsiver at his throat
and staggered back. But for the interposing trunk
of a tree, he would have fallen to the ground.

“I didn‘t hev no hand in lliet. I‘m bad enmi h,
but I wouldn‘t hurt a woman, so fur as 1716/. Ef fi‘d
‘a‘ bin tliur, it‘d never ‘a’ happened. I‘d ‘a‘ killed
him fust.

“ It was when we was a—hidin‘ up in the hills. We
had kc J‘ Cap‘n Al, who lied come to lead us, and
hed m 'en char re uv the a], back from doin‘ her
an harm ontil t en, thong he was hot enough at
it, ut we hcd him at a. pinch, an’ told him that he
must merry her fust. 'al, one day he sent us all
off, but Hard Hackney, to hunt around fer si , an‘
he went too. Hard must ’a‘ got asleep, fer w en he
woke up, the gal was one.

“He tuck her trai, an’ bimeby kem out upon
the boss who was a-standin‘ over the dead gal.
She‘d got loose somehow, an’ I s‘pect he‘d bin
watchin' fer jest some scch chaince. Anyhow, he‘d
met her, an‘ they‘d bed some words an a scuffle
sorter. She fou t him like a good one, as we could
see b the ground, an‘ he‘d got so mad thet he’d up
an” I: t her. He didn’t mean to kill her. I know,
’ca‘se he’d run too much resk fer thet. But he did
do it. She was dead as a. door nail."

Brady did not speak. He seemed frozen to a stone.
Burke resumed in a low, sad tone:

" \Val, we tuck an‘ dug a hole aii" put her in—thet
is me ’n’ Hard did for Carpenter he run away. Ef
he’d ’a’ stayed. I railly ’Iieve we’d ’a‘ killed the
or’nary cuss, we was so mad at him an’ felt so sorry
fer the gal. Then when we‘d kivered her u , we
went back to the hills an’ hid ontil the re was
cl‘ar fer us to go to the nest. Thetis all I know 'bout
her, an’ it‘s as true as that sun shines down on you
‘n’ rue—it’s the gospil truth, of I do say so. "

Brady roused himself with a start, and advanced
toward Burke. He stooped over and gazed down
into the bleared and watery eyes, as if he would
read through them the secret heart‘s thoughts. The
borderer met this scrutin without flinching.

Then Joe Brady spoke, is voice sounding strained
and unnatural:

“ Gabe Burke, are you telling me the truth?"

“I sw’ar itr-by my dead an” gone mother, who
was the only pusson as ever loved me in this yere
world. Ef I don't tell you the truth then I hope
she may cuss me to never come back ag’inl" sol-
emnly affirmedthe outlaw, and—stran a sight!—
two great tears slowly welled from his looodshot
eyes and stood trembll u on his cheeks.

“Ibelieve you—I wis i at I could s are your
life—butlhave sworn a sacred oath to ill you,"
slowly added the old hunter, as he drew his long

knife.
“Strikel I ain’t afeard no longer. I’ve did you

 

shoe. 0’ wrong, an” I reckon I desarve the wust
you kin gl’ me. I won’t beg no more. Strike—on’y

 

13

make it a good lick—don't haggle it," boldly cried
Burke. and his eyes unflinchineg returned the stern
gaze. bent upon him.

With one hand Brady slowly bared the refugees
brawny chest, and sought out the evenlv beating
heart. Then his right hand was raised aloft, clasp—
iiig the haft of the gleaming knife. The two enemies
gazed keenly into each other’s eyes.

“ Don‘t fool~let her rip!" muttered Burke, as the
glittering steel hung suspended in mid-air.

“ You are not afraid F”

“ Nary time—.1 was, but I ain‘t now," was the calm

re ly.

“Then the heavv knife hissed through the air, and
disappeared wit a dull, heavy (had. A low cry
broke upon the still air.

A cry, but not one of agony; a cry of surprise, of

wonder. The blade, instead of piercing the heart
of the refugee, was buried to the bait in the soft,
yielding earth.

“ I thought better 0’ you than thet, Joe Brady,"
said Burke, reproachfully. his lip quivering, as he.
gazed at the avenger. “ You passed your word to do
it up quick, an” this is the fust time I ever knou'ed 0"
your goin‘ back on it.“

“ You do not tremble—you speak steady and slow

——ain‘t on afraid to die, Gabe Burke?" slowly re-
;popide Brady, passing one hand across his fore—
ea .

“ It‘s cur‘ous—durned curlous l" muttered Burke,
thoughtful] . “I don‘t feel afeaid now. like I did.
‘Pears like didn‘t keer much fer nothin‘ no more.
No, Joe Brady, I ain't scairt. Ef you mean to keep
your word. go ahead. I kin look you in the eye, now
thet I hev told you all about thet scrape. It‘s cased
in mind powerfully."

‘ Then you're ready for your punishment? You‘re
ready to (lie, Gabe Burke? You don’t wish to live?"

“ No no, I didn’t say (lid. I meant thet of it must
come, lwouldn‘t hev it said that I died showin‘ of
the white rag. No, life is sweet, even to sech as me.
I would like to live a leetle longer, cf any to try and
make up fer my sins, but I don’t want to live bad
enough to ax you to spar‘ my life ag'in."

Brady slowly drew his knife from its earthen
sheath, and applied its keen edge to the cords that
bound the refugee. Then he arose and signed for
Burke to do likewise. With a sore y puzzled coun~
tenance the latter did so gazing w‘istfully at the
pale, composed features of the old hunter.

“ What does this yere mean. Joe Brady?" asked
the outlaw finally. as the other appeared lost to all
consciousness of his presence in a profound reverie.

“It means that I break my oath. You are free—
go where you will. I shall never harm you, though
you have sadly wronged me and mine. at you will
re ent—I know it—I see it in our face.”

'You don’t—honest Injun ‘m free?" stammered:
Burke.

"Yes, you are free.”

The strong horderer stovd as if petrified for a mo-
ment. It was such a sudden change, when he had
given up all earthly hole and nerved himself to
meet death as a man.

He strove to speak, but the words clove to his
throat. His fingers workid convulsiver and his
chest heaved. Then with an iiini‘ticulate cry he bow-
ed his head and raised the hard, horny hand of the 01d
hunter to his lips, wetting it with the hot tears of a.
man whose eyes had been undirnmed by such
visitors for many a long year.

“Joe Brady.” at length uttered the subdued re»
fugee, “I don‘t know what to say. I wish you bed
driv‘ your knife as on started to do. It wouldn‘t
‘a‘ hurt me hafe as ad as this hes did. I feel mean—
er ’n pussley—dnrned of I don‘t!”

“Let it pass Burke: I saw Iwas wrong. Now 0‘
your way, an whenever you are tempted to 6111:
again. Just think of this day, and keep your hands
C can.‘

“ Whar be you goin‘ of I may ax ?"

“ To the block—I had forgotten it all in meeting
you. God forgive me if I am too late! I had for:
gotten them all l" groaned Brady, ecollection of

is neglected trust flashing upon his ind.

A few words revealed the truth to Burke, who
added:

“ t me go ‘long 0‘ you. too. It‘ll be one more.
hand. I’ll fight fer you a’ter this. My life is yourn-
Whar you go, that I go. I’ll be your dog ontil I kin:
do somethin' to holp wipe out thet which I did afore..
May I go ’long?" '

“Yes; come on."

The two men turned and proceeded at a rapid rate»
through the forest. peering keen] in every direction
in order to ascertain their exact ocation. In a few
moments they noted a prominent landmark and then
locating the block’s position in their minds, they
broke out into a lon , steady lope, that carried them
over the ground wit truly surprising rapidity, con-
srdering their great exertion of the day. Then they
disappeared in the woodland depths.

CHAPTER XIV.
mu com unusual).

IT was a fearful moment.

The wildly yelling Miamis pressed madly u the‘
narrow defile. burning to avenge their 0 leg] and
other comrades. but in their very eagerness to anni'
hilate their desperate foes, lay the main. cause of
their failure for so long.

They blocked the passage so that, more than
once, not a savage could move; and at the best
their efforts to use their weapons were in vain, an
only endangered their own lives. Thus the seeming
marvel is explained, of how the two brave men beat
be it fully ten times their own number.

ide by Side Hardin Ellis and Wazecotah fought
then-powerful arms wielding the blood>stained an

 

‘battered rifles with the force and regularity of pi!-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

‘14

 

 

 

bin-rods; Side by side thnyinmrdod the key M rhnir ‘

position—the narrow pus. :0 leading upwmd~nml
more than one dead or dying form l't’sll‘tl upon rim
rocky bottom. rudely trampled under {not by the
red—skins in their endeavors to wreak Veinz‘oailcv upon
the borderers.

Suddenly a. low, long-drawn, peculiar yell uroso
from the coufusedmwas, and us if with one. accord,
the Miumis fell haul: down the file carrying with
them their dead and disabled. This res lite omni-
opportunely, for the two defenders mere out \w‘nk-

 

. onm , and in a few more minutes must have nuc‘

cum ed from sheer fatigue.

“Loud, Hardin—they will ti it ugn‘m—Snkimn is
‘ with them i” hastiiyinuttered V ozecotah. stillsponk-
log in English, apparently forgetful of his d interns-n.

A faint cry now come from the. point where “on:
collected the women, and Ellis hastily turned. four-
ing some unexpected calamity. ilo hnd recognized
the voice of Minnie I’lOllllt‘S. _

A wondering,r cr ' burst from h is ll )5 likewise, .is his
glance took in t e scene lwfore nu. He could
scarce believe his eyes.

He had hastily drugged Mink Cont, when the, latter
fell bravely fighting at his (‘post, to the point where
the women were sheltere uud hurriedl ' directed

5 ' Minnie—by far the most collected and so] possessed

of the group—to exumil his wound, and, if possi—
ble assuage the hemorr ,e. ‘

l’ith hasty, fingers she lutd removed the closely-
fittin cap and cape of skins from the head and

r shon ers of the strange bring. and then. with in-

creasing wonder. had untied the thongw and parted
the coat, from over the breast.

The suspicions mailed by a glimpse of the face
and neck were now fully conflimcd. She gnzml
down 11 n the white neck and bosom that could
only beong to a zrmnl 11. indeed, the fur-fumed
Mink Coat—the dreaded Death Shot—was a 7/01/1071 .'

This was the view that met the astonished gaze of

Hardin Ellis. And, his voice, so strange und un-

natural, directed the attention of anecotuh toward
the spot.

,I'ortuuate indeed was it that tho Mimnis did not
gem this moment to rrnew the usmult, for they
Would have found the post undefended. An filthy

~ victory waiiid have been theirs.

,, tux-es, now to y roves. ed by the removal

Wazecotah Med upon the clear-cut revuler fon—
, nftlw (lisflg
uring cap with widely-diluted eyes. His entire form

. quivered ' 'e uome storm-tossed shrub. and dread-

lnz lest he had received some fatal w )llllt‘ hereto-
fore unnoticed. Hardin sprung to his side and caught
the sinking form in his arms.

“ My God! Wuzecorah. are you hurt?" he cried.
'anxiousl , as another cry broke iron) the. lips of tin:

disguise ravage. ,
' ‘ No—no, but look! thatl'uco—myGodl that face!"
gasped the man, in a strained and husk y voice. as he
etr , led erect.
V “ i a. womunl‘f, V

“.Yeamit is my lymimumy lost lowal My Godl do
we meet, and thus? Dead—she isdeadl My darling
~—my Louisol” cried Wazecotuh, or Clifford W'nrd,
as he should now be termed, as he. broke. from the
restrainin as of the young Settler. and rushing
up the roc o i ling himself down beside the sense-
less form of the being whom we have thus for known
8i th Coat, the Death Shot.

“Louisa-my Louisa, look up! Speak to me, dar-
lma~’tis your Clifford calls you. ion are not dead

,l L-you cannotdie—you shallnot die! Wake up-«o en

your eyes and smile upon me, if only to will his

eurfui pain at in heart. My darling—you do not

~ speak—e our ch90 is cold—J do not see 'oubreuthel

: silent grou , a fearh

this oath? No—no, you mount. den i Tellmo,"
8 added, with an mionized look around upon the

l depth of horror echoing in his
every wor “this is not dumb? Shale. alive—say
shots alivel My Louisa, helium-speak to me! She.
. doesnot answer—my God! She. istleud—dl ndl Oh i"
and with a deep groan, as if w-lllng up from a
broken heart the stricken mun bowed his head 11 n

V the bibod-stdlned bosom, his senses reeled an he

The blow had provon too much for him. ’i‘hegront
excitement and fatigue undergmle, the sudden rev-
elation added to what he believed to be the death of

beer.

’bislon duet loved one, all unite-ed, proved more than
.110qu

f‘Here: take my flask—try to restore them. I
must prepare for the ludians. Pray to God for be)
for! fear our last earthly hope is gone '

. .U.muttered Hardin Ellis, as he turned away and began
' towaly rechnr c the tire-arms

‘ i heart. _
‘ .would end in his defeat; it could be. nothinign

'i

weigh seemed pressing down upon his
knew that another attack, if it came,
else,
g the

nowtbnt his single arm was clone in oppos

, T enemy, .
3 r ' 4/7 Au yec‘he thought not for a moment of fliglfit,
, 9

Am“. h alone there was but liltle danger the

corn have affected his escape. But he would rot

,.v y 'abandon his charge. He would live or die with

I,

 

 

them. ,

‘ There was onl I one faint ho left; 011! so faintl
Thin Was that a red-skins ht pause to recover
breath, or devise some more formidable plan for dis-
 thelr atubboru unrry, and thus afford Joe
Brod km to come up w th the rescuing party from

. than k-llouse.

.,{§8‘El9h'

‘ Alas! be little knew what had ocmxrred to divert
~. the old hunter from his mission. and the it wax
hitter that he could not divine the nu l. \ ith that

“hope gone he would have been helpless indeed: now

he reached to hold out to the last moment listen-
nrul lntentnesa for the expected round
cheer-31mm the stout mugs

wen, om he did not doubt were already upon

I mmmm

of the PM~ ‘

 

 

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

Willi marvelous quickness be recharged nll tin-
iireurins. own to the pistols of Mink Cont. Thus he
possessed llvo shots; and he kuewthatntlcast to:
many oi‘ the l-nelny must fall ere he could be over-
pi‘lwerod. Th.» e he. could pick off before. the ' could
, reach his stand; ilk-u he must struggle on as efore.
1 He had but. little time to ponder u on his situation,
for the enemy were upon him. I is keen eye de-
tected the cautiously-approaching figure of a savage.
crawling along the narrow defile, with the evident
intention of surprising him by a sudden onset, and
thus engage. him hund-lo-hnnd ere a. chance was
given to discharge his fatal rifle.

Hardin Ellis was not it man to hesitate long. He
knew that with the first shot there Would come a
deadly rush forward upon the part of the Indians.
and that he would have no time to spare. He re-
solved to make his mark before he was overpow-
ered; to make the. victory a costly one to the cop-
per~skiuned demons.

The heav rifle rose. to his cheek, and with the re-
port a lea en bullct crushed through the brain of
the doomed red-skin who sprung into the air, with
the horrible death-yell of his race. As Hardin had
anticipated, this blow was the signal for the remain-
der to advance, and as he caught up his second ritle
the entire pass seemed filled with the dusky min.
creams as if by magic, each one screeching and
brundis n his Weapons, as though seeking to in-
Ei‘midate t 0 young iordcrer by these demonstrn‘

1mm.

They also noted that. but one foeman confronted
them. Evidently their recreuut comrade, Wuzeco-
tub. had fallen. Thus encouraged they )ressed on,
unheeding the shots that carried dent into that
densely-crowded ranks.

Dropping the third rifle, Hardin clutched his pix:
this, and then the foe was upon him, at arm's
length. Two quick reports and then he hurled the
r-inptv pistols into the ('l'OWl .griuapini: his trusty rifle
an hurling the. foremost indinn who had nearly
gained the top of the. ledge, bacl: with a horribly
shuttered skul .

It was a fenrful.thrillin ' scene. The young man
battled desperately, but t 10 mark was far too great
for one ipmr of arms. He. used his feet with good
eflect, k cldng those back from the ledge as they
strove to crawl u it. But he was gradually being
forced back froni h s stunt].

Several Mimnis hnd gnincd tho ledge, despite his
frantic struggles, and were )ressing Hardin nercely,
when with a shrill yell anot er combatant 1001: part
in the mrlw. Clitf Word hnd aroused from his
swoon, but a moment too lute. The golden oppor-
tunity was past; the ground could not be recovered
now.

The disguised settler seized one brawny savage.
and liftin" him sin-er from the ground. hurled him
with the force of a. catapult. into the midst of his
comrades. The effort. however, proved total, for ll;
brought the bordercr to his knees.

Ere he could arise. n half-dozen savages had
pounced upon him. and (Ii-Spite his frantic strut:—
glee, they succeeded in overpowering him. At
nearly the some moment, a blow from behind felled
Hardin Ellis to the ground, and the conflict was
over.

Mad with rage and thirst for vengeance, a. number
of red-skins sprung up to where cowered the pole
and trembling: womcn, uttering fiendish yells and
brandishing their \Vi‘npmlfl. One seized upon Mrs.
Holmes and ruisnd his gleaming hatchet on high.

A loud, commanding voice rung out, but it come
a moment too late. The instrluncnt‘ of drurh fell
upon the bowed head and without a groan, the ill-
fttted woman sunk orward. dead: the long: gray
locks first crimsonixw beneath the. tide of life that
flowed from the horn bi ' shattered skull.

A strong arm hurlei the Indian aside. and then
the. remainder siunk away, (towed and ubashnd be-
fore the anger of their chief, Sakima. That Worthy
had preserved the lives of the pole-faces, for the
time being, but it was from no motives of mercy.
The blood of his slaughtered braves cried out for
vengeanco, but the lose! had been by tattoo great
to be atoned by such it simple sacrifice.

He had saved the. 1‘ we of tho pale-faces in order
that they might die (It the stake I

,Sukima turned to where Cliff Ward was lying,
securely bound still tllliillp,’ from the furious stru n
gle. with a 100 of cmllynuger restin upon h s
copper-tinted visage. The borderer bol ly met his
glare and then as the chief spoke. be listened with
a smi e of scorn. . - '

“Isee a dog before me who bus stolen the skin of
a Miami brave. \Vnzecotnh is dead; a polecut stole

' his face and paint." '

“Sakimu speaks bi words now, when anem-
tah's arms are boun ,but beforehe. hid behind a
rock. He feared to meet a man who had weapons
in his hand " contemptuously rotor-ted Cliff.

The chie turned away With n‘gesture of disdain,
and drew near to the group of braves. who surround-
ed the still senseless form of Mink Coat. or Louisa
Briefly, as we moist henceforth Cfillélt‘r“ u

eye penre gran exc e . e pecu or
dress tol them that the dreaded scourge of their
race lay before them: but the still exposed bosom
betrayed the woman. Could it be that this wasthe
one who had so fearfuily punished their people?
Was-the dreaded demon. after all. but a squaw.’

As Sakima. stood over her, Louisa uttered a faint
sigh and opened her eyes. She axed around her
for a moment in bewildered surp Re. A dazed look
rested upon her features. Evidently she was at a
loss to conjecture what had ocmrred.

, aapoke a few words to one: of his braves

who at once proceeded to examine the wound, on

although the woman again; fainted Month his rude

morning vprdic’t‘waa evidently favorable. In a
l I ’ l .

 

,;  

 

 

shortilme the wound was lmulnged, and tin-n ri,i
party slowly defilrd down the pass, carrying with
them their captive; and the dead indiane.

A rude litter was hastily manufactured, and upon
il Louisa was placed. Then the limbs of Ward and
Eli}: were released sumcienlly to enable them to
we . .

Sakima gave a. few hurried directions to a. few
braves, who fell back alongside the dead Miamis. A
guard closely encircled the captives. and the line of
march was taken up, heading toward the captured.
nest of the refugees.

A glance passed between Hardin Ellis and Cliff
Ward. Each felt a. my of renewed hope 5 ri up
in their hearts. The saw that Sakima ha no ear
of danger, as he too no pains to conceal the trai
Hint, necessarily, lay broad and distinct behin

iem.

It would be easily followed, especially when such
a. skillful scout and trailer as old Joe Brady was Elf
on the search. He bud had am )le time to reach 9
block-house, and in all probn ility was, ere th‘
upon the back track. He would find the trail, an
by following it, concoct some means to save his
friends. if main force could not succeed.

Well skilled in the traits ofihe race with whom he
had linseed years of his life, Ward felt assured that
the. contemplated sacrifice. would not take place be-
fore the shades of night had settled down upon the
earth, if indeed it. was not postponed until the
mamuding savages had all returned to their village.

if the latter, it would go hard, but he managed to
effect an escape and liberate his companions. As if
Sakima had read this thought the chief said:

“When the sun goes to rest, the dog who stole
\Yazecotah’s paint shall die the dimth of fire. He
will have com any to kee him from being lone-
some upon the ong trnil. ut [1141/ will 0 to fill the
lodges of the. Miamis," and the hoary vi ain nodded
toward the women.

Ward did not speak. His eyes were riveted upon
the pale. ‘and ghastly features of his long-lost love.
He could see she still lived, but it St- elned to him
that. each feeble, fluttering breath would be the end
—thet eat-ii rude jostle of the. litter would separate
the spirit from its earthly tenement.

It was a bitter trial for him to repress the groan
of agony that rose to his ii H, but the past ears
had taught him wondrous sel -conlrol, and be new
that any sympathy he might betray for her. would
only prove to her disadvantage. His sin was a hein-
ous one, in the e es of the Miamis. and nothing
would be spared, i by it a single additional pang or
torture could he inflicted upon him.

So he schooled his features, and only smiled at the
threats; nsmile that angered the cholerlc chieftain,
but whose self-respect, or rather that pride in self—
control that an ludian ever feels, kept. him from
ninltreming a prisoner. much as he might have felt
inclined to do otherwise.

The arty seemed in no particular hurry. accom-
modating their pace to that of the women. and thus
it was fully two hours before the vicinity of the nest
was gained. This was still standing, although shat/-
tered and blackened, hearing significant scars of the
Sic e it had so recently undergone.

ard and Ellis were bound to the trunks of neigh-
boring trees, so close together that they were en-
nbled to converse in low tones; The women were
placvd at a little distance, under special guard.

(irently to the disgust of the more dextrous‘
fingered braves, Sakinm. ordered ,all the plunder to
be deposited in our. common ile. from thence to be
distributed as his fnnc ' shoult dictate. It was with
mingled feelings that ‘liff Ward scanned this collec—
tion. There wan one thing lacking, and he Evertme
know whether to be glad or song.

Tho larder of the refugees ad been plentifully
stored wilh edibles and ipotabies, which were now
scattered around the ground in careless profusion.
The Mittmis after exprelssin their delig t at their
intent in: uisition~the capt vee~addressed the-rm
selves to 1 mm, and the scene speedil became up-
ronrious, Sukima himself not disdainng to partici-
pate in a not very derorons dance of triumph over
their signal success in arms.

The situation of the ca lives was fast becoming
critical in the extreme. the will of Sakima
had thus for withheld the tomahawks and swiping-
knivos from their devoted head, and now, even his
sullen. treacherous eyes were beginning to sparkle
and dwelt ominously upon the. hated pale-faces.

One word from him—a single motion would set
the ball in action, ‘and then the massacre. once he-
gun, would only end in the extermination of the
captives. Truly, their situation was not to be en-
vied. ‘

The orgies waxed more furious and di ting,
when another cause for alarm became nvir t-nt. A:
snva e. reeling and yelling in drunken hilarity,
can t up a rand of fire. and flung it against the ,l
bull in . The brand fell totha ground, upon a lie
of dri brush and splintered wood, and in am) ier
moment it burst into a blaze. . . .

N 0 one save the captives appeared to, notice thin;
the red-skins were fully occupied in gorging themv
selves. But 01man belie] the impending peril,
with feelings of horror.

Not for himself. though since his last discovery—.
since he. knew that his loved one still lived~life had
acquired new charms for him; but he thought of.
her. It was her peril that startled him. And yet he
dared not draw toward them the attention of'the
maddened red-skins, whose first answer would moat '
probably be a hatchet stroke or a knife threat. by
telling t em of his fem.

He remembered what
had told them regardin
away beneath the build

Minty-then Mink Coat—-
the a of powder thawed

n _ .
He knew that there Wasfinongh to blow the build- .- »

 

A

o

. l W _-A ........._.._.W__._.__r.__._.

 

,1
l

‘ > of the tell~tale cloud.

‘ . tire nature.

 

 

 

 

 

l
ins. '0 Moms, :lTl’l among llln storm of rugged mis- ,

Hil'h—g how many of their number would escape with
lit-.3? ‘ ‘ '
The building could not burn down without igniting
this powder. The entire hillside would be torn asun.
-l~r. us by an earthquake; masses of rocks would be

hurled far and near. Death stared them in. the face. ,

from every side, and yet the only mode of prevent-
ing this was impracticable.

The doomed nest burned on. The logs were nearly
«twain-d, and caught readily. The flames roared
:md darted out its serpent-like tongues as though

seeking other victims than those dead and mangled ,

bodies that lay still and motionless in their midst.
The dark smoke rolled aloft in huge columns, that
seemed to dim the brightness of the sun.

The Mlsmls yelled and. shriuked around the glow-
inc pile in drunken glee. unheeding the intense heat,
that drew the perspiration from the captives. who
(gazed upon the wildly thrillin scone.
struck Silence. The danger ha been wliis cred
from one to another, and the women had gr willy
drawn nearer the two men. as though feeling safer
in thuir vicinity.

The guards still hovered near them. but the , too.
were infected b the spirit of the scene; and eelmg
assured that So ‘iinu. was by far too drunk to nm'iim

their disobedience, the bad possessadjhemselvusof '

a supply of the covets fire-water, that was fast rc-
d uciiig them to a level with their comrades.

The prisoners kept their eyes rivech upon the
blazing building. That the crisis was
none could doubt. And them-what would be the
result?

Wen-d lanced at the pale face of Louisa. who still
occupie the litter, and sighed. He [curled for her-—
not himself.

CHAPTER XV.
mu coup in: GRACE.

lllmxwmnn Joe Brady had not been idle. but ‘
0r »
itbo .
{lurk—u. he did not slucken his pace until the frontier '

strove nobly to redeem his fault and inukeu
lost limp. Followed by the penitcnt rci‘ugee,

hlork was reached, and then in faint, breathless tones
he 111:1ch known his mission.

l-‘onuimtcly the post was strong-handed, and some
fifteen men, all stout, true—hearted border-em, volun-
teered to‘accompany him. Undaunted by his severe
toll; Brady at once set out upon his return. leading
by the most direct route, along which he ho ed to
meet the f itives, in case they had not been owed
to stand at ay.

Two hours‘ travel brought them to the defile so
often alluded to, where Wuzecotah told him he might
cxnect to find them, and his quick eye read the truth
in'an instant. He saw that a struggle had taken
place, in which the redskins had been the victors;
:33 nil“: the blood-stains and spots where dead bu lies
lead a n.

He glided up the defile while others hunted for
the departing trail of the Miamis. He wished to
learn, it possible, who had (been killed and who
taken prisoners, if any, before proceedin further.
An involuntary cry of horror broke from ' lips us
be uzed upon the spot of death where the two men
half battled so desperately: he noted the deal form
of the wolf, Beauty; than he saw the form of a. wo~
man further up the rocks.

The ay hair—what little had escaped the scaly»
inig‘knfilc—aold him who was the victim, and then,
w th her in his arms, Brudyrctmced his steps to
Wherelie had left his companions. These had easily
found the trail, and learned that there were a num‘
ber of ca. tives.

Tire ha y of the murdered woman was placed in a
hastily scooped out hole, and then covered with
rocks, to preserve it from any prowling beast. They
could not s re more time to this; the duty they
owed the liv r was more sacred.

When they , ookcd from 9;]: mournful task. a
simultaneous cry broke fr the lips of all. A
dense cloud of smoke. was seen curling far above
the tree-tops. Brady had little difllculty in amount.
.ing for it. The location told him it was the outlaws‘
‘nest. .

“ We must make. haste, DOW?" harried, excitedly,

as he dashed .05 through the nrest in the direction

“The sitzht of that fire may

put the internal imps into the notion of burning our
riends to save trouble."

.Burke dashed up alongside the old hunter and
hissed a few words in his ear. The Scout uttered
a. wild cry of horror and increased his speed.
The drefugee had mentioned the hidden store of
pow er.

The othms gained ad inkling of the truth though
Burke feared to betray how he, had gained his
knowledge. lest the hatred they entertained toward
the scourge—Tor such indeed had the. refugees prov-
ed themselves—«should wmk itself upon him. And
each man strained every nerve to its utmost tension
in order to arrest. If PUSSIME. the threatened catas-

rigging.
hen the head of the. ravine was reaclmd. they
were forced to roceed. with more caution, lest
they should be smvered, and as the enemy out.
. numbered them, their hopes of mucung their friends
be rendered futile. Ahead of them dashed Gabe
Burke. He had resolved upon a desperate move;
the events of that day had greatly changed his en.
Ho enters? the (tunneth rushed tobtlilifi-mapot
...W e w er. 6 passage was ‘ at
.   Till;0 burning brands were gammy f” .
' lug around the spok‘aud mm of the kegs val fairly
' in a blaze. He stripped ofl‘_his flannel slim and
smothered mommies; his skin scorched and gin-iv.
Glad much the intense heat. but he did not
heed it.

s.

in owe- 1

 

"981‘. ‘

. Sakimu for himself.

; to the helpless ones.
. fire at the more sober red-skins, and then press on

 

Mink Coat, the Death Shot.

One. by one ll? iollod the kegs beyond all danger
of the lire, and then as the entire building £61 in-

, ward with a thundering crash, he sunk forward

upon the kegs in a, death-like swoon.

Joe Brady led his men along the pass at a rapid
rate, until the month of the ravine was reached,
and then through the screen of shriveled bushes,
they peered out upon the scene before them. It was
wild and thrillingl

The ruined building, burning fiercely. the forms
of the half-nude Indians danci around the glade
in drunken glee, screeching an yelling in diaboli-
cal tones: or else. of weaker minds. lying around
in spruwliing attitudes, overcome by the potent
liquor. Sakima and several others were rudely
tearing the garments from Ward and Ellis. There
could be no mistaking the intentions of the Indians.
They were preparing their victims for the fiery sac—
riflccl

The three women, Minnie. Lottie and Louisa, the
latter still in the garb of Mink Coat—were kneeling
together, pale and trembling, fearing to 111 Va,
though now unguarded. At their feet crouch the
terrified boy too I“rectly alarmed to cry.

This was the Big I that met the eyes of the res—
cuers and their resolve was at once taken. They
saw t at no time was to be lost. Never would they
have a. barter opportunity for eifecting their object.
It seemed as though Providence was working right
into their liands— he drunken savages were at their
mercy.

Joe Brady singled out three men, and told them
the one each was to select as a. target. He chose
' These four. who were all who
wad of, a sudden
from any access
The other borderers were to

were near the ca tives, once dis
rush would cut t c remainder o

to hand—to—hand strife.
possibility; of failure now. .
Then t a order was given, and a. deadly vol—
lay run out upon the confused air. A horrible
tumult ollowed.
were mingled with utfrighted cries from the survi~
vols, and also from the captive women, who feared

There scarcely seemed a

' some new calamity.

" Out and at ’eml Give the red imps jesse!“
howled Brady, agile. leaped into the glade, clubbing
his mile and rushing to cut off all approach to the
pale-faces.

The four Miamis had fallen dead. Scarce one of
the sixtecnl‘lflcs but had claimed its victim. The
survwinsz red-skins scurco thought of resistance.
Some fled, but unstcudied by excess of liquor,
were no match for tho well-trained, hardy bor—
deters, who slew tin-nu without mercy. Others
were too drunken to realize their danger, but still
hu god to their_bosom, the subtle demon that had
sto en away their senses, until the heavy rifle~butt—
ltlhe keen knife or toniahawk, put a period to their

vos.

It was a. pitiless massacre; but the aven
had often been bitterly wronged; a thirst for b 00d
had filled their hearts, and for the time rendered
them demons.

.As Joe Brady rushed forward. Louisa uttered a
Wild cryund sprun into his arms. The borderer
stood as if dumfoun ed. He could not believe his
eyes; it seemed some hantom—not his long-lost
daughter that he clnspm in his arms.

Then overpowered by her manifold trials, Louisa
sunk into '21 swoon. She awoke to find bending over
her the two persons most dear u n earthto her: her
father, and her lover, Clillord uni. The latter had
removed the dye from his Jerson, and now stood as
she had known him last, on y a little more worn and

than of old.

ith her recovery. Louisa also awoke in her ri t
mind; the cloud that ,had so long cnshrouded er
senses, vanished as suddenly as it had come. Her
story fully corroborated that of Carpenter and
Gabe Burke. In resisting insult she had received a
fearful blow upon the head, and then all that fol-
lowed atter was a dark blank, until now.

‘How she had rewversd suiflciently to cast oil.’ the
light coveri of earth and crawl away from her
grave ,' why 5 chad assumed the strange garb that
stamped her as Mink Coat, she could not tell. It
was a. mystery never to be'cleared up.

After the death of Sakinia, the head of the insur—
rection, the Indians soon quieted down, and peace
was once more restored. i‘he cabin of poor unfor-
tunate Andrew Holmes was renovated, and there
Esrdin Ellis and hiswife. the fair, true-hearted
“it‘ll; “‘“e‘éid°.l"iaa b grav

ewoo ans eurdbywasone e,
that contained those who had loved so truly through
life. In death husband and

rated.

Gabriel Burke soon recovered from is severe
bruises, althou h be was disfigured for )1 e, and the
lesson to ht b m by the avenger was never ior‘got—
ten. Bel vodlon . a. true and reformed man. the
glaze‘und iéidse (is. le comp‘cdnioi‘il of m; od hunter,

earn ova, as a an e 0 cc
hated him. ' y as n

They found a home beside that of Cliflord Ward
and Lousia, who, unitodatter such deadly peril and
bitter trials, enjoyed many yeua’ life renderedall
the more happy-from contrast with those terrible

deity; gone by.
t 9 Henderson returned to her friends from
whorl: she-bad been stolen and soon after married
an honest young settler, w o neverliad cause to re-
gret his choice.

And thus we leave them in
after a season of trlal a trl ‘ don.- such as. for-
,tunately. seldom falls to the lot of human beings

imm.

summit [up Hummus. ~

 

Shrieks. groans and death-yells.

! Dialogues No.

A and Burlesque. by noted writers: and

wife were not sens-y

ewe and happiness. ,

 

15

 

 

' Speakers.

Each volume contains 100 large page); printed
from clear, open type, wmprising t e ‘t collec-
tion of Dialogues, Drain-.13 and Recitations. ’
The Dime Speakers embrace twentyvfour volumes,
viz.:

1. American Speliker. 13. School Speaker.

2. National Speaker. ,. . l4. Ludicrous Speaker.

3. Patriotic Speaker. { 15. Koxniknl Speaker.

4. Comic Speaker. 16. Youtli‘s S or.

5. Elm-.utionist. {17. Elo. uent.‘ ksr.

6. Humorous Speaker. 18. Hui Colum isSpeab

7. Standard Speaker. er.

8. Stumps eaker. 19. Seine—Comic Speaker;

9. Juvenilelépeuker. 90. Selects eaker.

10. Spread-Eagle Speaker 21. Funny peaker. .
11. Dime Debuter. 25. Joli Speaker. ‘
12. Exhibition Speaker. 23. D‘ ect Speaker. \ , -

24. Dime Book of Recitations and Readings.
These books are re late with choice pieces for the
School-room, the Ex ibition, for Homes, etc. 7‘5 to
100 Decliunstions and Recxtatlons in each book.

Dialogues.

The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages. on.
brace thirty books, viz: -
Dialogues No. One. tDialogues No. Sixteen.
Dialogues No. Two. {Dialogues No. seventeen.
Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues 1:10. Eighteen.
Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues ho. Nineteen.
Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues Np. Twenty.
Dialogues No.  lDialognes ho. Twenty-one. ;
Dialogues No. lDialogucs No. g'enty-{wd

Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues No > sixty-three.
Dialogues No. Nine. [Dialogues No.1‘wenty-fourr
Dialogues No. Ten. Dialogues No. Twenty-five. .
Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Twenty-six.

Dialogues No. Twelve. Dialoguesijioflwenty—seven.

Thirteen. Dialogues No. Twenty-Eight. 
Dialogues No. Fourteen Dialogues No. Twenty- no. .
Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Thirty.

15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in eacb'book.

Drama and Readings.
164 12111!) Pages. 5!} Cents.

For Schools, Parlms, Entertainments and them .
ateur e, comprisingr Original llzlinor Dramas.
Comedy. arce, Dress 1 Humorous Dialogue
Recitation:
and Rea ' new :nd standard, of the
celebritvan interest. Edited byPi‘of. A. M.

DIME HAND-BOOKS.
Young Peg—9’s Series. ‘

Bunny’s Dim: HAND-BOOKS rm: YOUNG Pm ' . 1'
cover a wide. range of subjects, and m especial? - " ‘
adapted to their end.

Ladies” Letter-Wfiior.

 

 

Book of Games. .v .if

Gents‘ letter-“Witch Fortune-Teller.
Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ Casket.
Book of Verses. Ball—room Complain.
Book of Dreams Book of Beauty. .
l
Hand-Books of Games. '
Handbook of Summer Sports. 'V L ’
Book of Croquet. Yachting and Ro !_
Chess Instructor. Riding and Driving. , ,v , 4
Cricket and Football. Book of Pedestrian.
Guitg Swimming. ‘ , -‘ '
l dbool: of Winter Sports—Skating, etc v 1‘ 2
Manuals for Housewives. I
1. Cook Book. 4. Fa Pb . ‘
2.RecipeBook. lb.  My
8. Housekeeper‘s Guide. . liner-y. ~ _.

 

Lives of Great Americans

 

L—Gco Washington. V11.—Davld0rookett. ‘ 
Il.-~Johlugf’aul Jones. VIE—Israel Putnam. ' ’ .
m—MadAntbnnyWayne ——Tecumseh. ' ..
W.——Ethan Allen. .—Abrahamblncoln. " '
V.—Marquis do Lafay- XII—Eon s G ‘
VL_ am e. .- lyssos . mu. .
Song Books.

Bunu‘s Dunc Sosa Boon. Nos. 1 to containing
the only popular collection of copyfighstaongs.

Meioaisc. r'
School Melodisi, slum“ “‘1 Wm,

Jake Books. 5 r 'y
Pocket Joke 330k. * Jone . I
Paddyka JokiimBookClY' .  . j ‘ .
The Above publications to:- salede m n 2'
wwflhaomwst-panmnmodptormien? 
m-muwsmnw AND musuwmx _ '4 3
81m, MY. v ‘ ’  »

 

 

S LI

Rein? <

 

1 Adventure: ornuil‘alo Bill. From Boy-
hood to Manhood. Deeds of Dari and Roman-
tic Incidents in the early life of Wi iam F. Cody.
By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm.

2 The Ocean Hunters; or. The Chase of
Leviathan. A Romance of Perilous Adven-

By Captain Ma 'ne Reid.

2213‘ An El-ti'a Large .1 umber-.1132

3 Adventures of “’iid Bill, the Pistol
Prince. Remarkable career of J. B. Hikok,
(known to the world as “Wild Bill.") giving the
true stor 0! his adventures and acts. By COL
Prentiss nfrnham.

4 The Pra rle Ranch - or, The Young Cattle
Herders. By Joseph E. B’adger. Jr.

5 Texas Jack, the Mhmtnng King. Thrill.
in Adventures in the Life of J. B. Omohundro,
” exas Jack.“ Bly Col. Prcntiss Irgraham.

6 Cruise 01‘ the flyawuy; or, ankee Boys
in Ceylon. By C. Dun lug Clark.

7 Rovin Joe : The istory of a Young "Bor-
der Ru .”
Joseph E. Badger, Jr. By A. H.

8 The Flynwag Afloat; _
'Round the Worl . 13‘; C. Dunmn

9 Bruin Adams, l
Boy Par-d. By Col. Prentiss lngrahain.

10 The Snow-Trail' or, The Boy Hunters of
Fur-Land. By T. C. arbaugh. '

11 Old Grizzly Adams the Bear Tamer;
or, The Monarch of the Mountain.
Frank Powell.

12 Woods and Water»; or, The Ex loits of
the Littleton Gun Club. By Capt. F. W ittnker.

13 A Rolling Stone: Incidents in the Career
on Sea. and Land as Bo and Man of Colonel
Prentiss lugraham. By rot. Wm. R. Eyster.

l4 Adria on the Prairie, and Amateur
Hunter: on the Buil‘nio Range. By
Oil Coomes.

15 Kit Carson, Kin
Mountain Paths and
Aiken.

16 Red River Rovers; or Life and Adven-
tures in the NorthWest. By C. bunuing Clark.

17 Plaza and Pluinr; or, Wild Adventures of
“Buckskin Sam” liajor Sam 8. Hall.) By
Colonel Prentiss lugroham.

18 Rifle and Revolver;
Gun Club on the Buffalo Range.
Frederick Whittaker.

19 Wide-Atrake George, The Boy Pioneer:
or, Lilo in 9; Log Cabin. Incidents and Adven-
tures in the Backwoods. By Edward Willett.

at) The Dashing Dragoon; or. The Story of

4 General George A. Custer. from West Point to

time.

Post.
Clark.

of the_Gnideu

; or
rairie Trails.

ByA

By Captain

the Big Horn. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. ,

‘21 Deadwood Dick an a Bo ; or. Why

Wild Ned Harris, the New-England Barm-lad, be-

came the Western Prince of the Road. By Ed»
ward L Wheeler.

. 2% The Boy Exiles of Siberia; or. The
Watch’Dog of Russia. By T. C. Ilarbaugh.

93 Paul De Lacy, The French Beast Charmer-
or, ew York Boys in the Jungies. A Story of
Ad nture Peril and Sport in Africa. By C.
Dunning rk. .

£4 The Sword Prince: The Romantic Life

' of Colonel Mons . (American Champion-at-
arms.) By Captain rederick Whittaker.

25 Round the Camp Fire‘ or. SnowABound
at “Freezemut Camp.“ By j

fievsnow-shoo Town; or. New York Bo s in
‘ the Wilderness. A Narrative of Sport and eril
. in Maine. By T. C. Harbaugh.

97 Yellow Hair, the Boy Chief of the
~ Pawnees. The Adventurous Career of Eddie
Burgess of Nebraska. By '60). P. Ingraham.
ISThe Chane ollhe Great White Stag

31:; (Jump and Canoe. By C. Dunning

B9 “0 Fortune-Hunter; or. Roving Joe
as Miner, Cowboy, Trapper and Hunter. By
' A; .Post.
80 Walt Fer-gunman Cruise. A Tale of the
‘. AntarcticSea. By .Dunnlng Ciar .
81 The Boy Ora-odor; or, How a Page and a
Fool Saved :1 King. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
82 White Beaver the Indian Medicine
’ Chief or The Bomantic and Adventurous
Life or . 15. Frank Powell. By Col. Inmham.
83 Captain Ralph, the Young Ex lorer: or,
I Elie geniipede Among the Floes. By . Dunning
. 'ar . ‘
34 The Vault Boar‘nunteru. Ascory'ot
V , the. Holmium Mishaps of a. Party otBoEIs in
 the Wide of .Northem Michigan. By orrls
Redwing.
85 The Lost goLWhalenfigr In the shadow
. of the North 0 By T. C. ugh.
emu aim the Lad with ya. Level Bead
,. ByEdvmni Willett. ' ‘

w‘

mg

Brief Scenes from the Life of ,
or. Yankee Boys ‘
d Griz: y Adms’ '

The Monsters of the Esquimaux Border.
Roger Starbuck.

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

39 Night-Hawk Geor e, and His Daring
Deeds and Adventures in t e Wilds of the South
and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingruham.

. 40 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways of
the Lone Coast. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

41 The Panian Hunters' or, New York
Boys in Buenos Ayres. By T.  Harbau h.

42 The Young Land-Lubber' or. Prince
Porter‘s First Cruise. By C. Dunning Clark.

By

Prentiss Ingraham.

44 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the
Woods. By Barry De Forest.

45 Jack, Harry and Tom. The Three
Champion Brothers: or. Adventures of Three
Brave Boys with the Tattooed Pira By Capt.
Frederick Whittaker.

46 The Condor Killers ' or,Wil Adventures
at the Equator. By T. C. arhau .

47 The Boy Coral-Fishery or, The Sea-

 

By Dr.
l

l

Cavern rcourge. By Roger Star uck.

48 Dick, the Stowaway; or, A Yankee Boy's
Strange Cruise. By Char es Morris.

49 Tip Tremell, the Floater: or, Fortunes and
Miss ortunes on the Mississippi. By Edward
Willett.

50 The A dveuturons Life of Nebraska.
Charlie, (Charles E. Burgess.) By Colonel
Prentiss ingraham.

51 The Colorado Boys; or. Life on an Indigo
Plantation. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

52 _l-lonest Hung; or, The Country Boy Adrift
in the City. By ‘hnrles Morris.

53 The Boy Detectives; or. The Young Cali-
fornians in Shanghai. By T. C. Harbaugh.

54 (‘alil‘orniu Joe, The Mysterious Piainsman.
By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

v 55 Harry Somern, The Sailor-Boy Magician.

or, The Littleton "

By S. W. Pearce.
5 6 Wobo’dy’s Boys; or, Life Among the Gipsies-
By J. M. Hoffman.

57 The Menagerie Hunter; or Fanny Ho-
bart, the Animal Queen. By Major ll. Grenville.

‘; 58 Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines; or.

i

i

05. E. Badger, Jr. '

Life Among the Black Diamonds. By Charles
Morris.

59 Lnd Lionheels, the Young Tiger Fighter.
By Roger Starbuck.

60 The Yonm Trail Hunters' or, New
York Boys in ‘i'izzly Land. By T. C. ‘Harbaugh.

61 The Young: Mustangers. By C. D. Clark.

62 The Tiger Hunters; or, The Colorado Boys
in Tiger-Land. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

63 The Adventurous Life of Captain
Jack, the Border Boy. (John W. Crawford,
the Poet Scout.) By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

64 The Young moose-Hunters or. Trail
and Cam fire in the New Brunswick 'oods. By
Wm. H. arming.

65 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker. By
Roger Star-buck.

66 Little nun Books; or, The Mountain Kid's
Mission. By Morris Redwing.

6'1 9!.0nznhore hue; or. How 9. Rough Boy
Won His Way. By C. Dunning Clark.

68 Flatboat Fred; orY The Voyage of the “ Ex-
periment." By Edward Wiilett. ‘

69 The Deer-Hunters; or. Life in the [Ottawa
Country. By John J. Marshall.

70 Kentuek Ben the Lon Rifleofthe Plains-
gat EhekBoyy Trapper: of éregon. By Roger2

r uc .

71 The Boy Pilot; or, The Island Wreckers. ,
graham

By Col. Prentiss In .

'12 Young Dick Tnlbot. By Albert W. Aiken.

73 Pat Mullnney’n Adventures; or. Silver
Tongue. the Dac’otah Queen. By C. L. Edwards.

'14 The Desert Rover' or. Stowaway Dick
Among the Arabs. By Charles Morris.

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

76 The Kit Carson Club; or Young Hawk-
eyes in the Northwest. By T. C. Barbaugh.

77 Left-Handed Pete, the Double-Knits. By
Joe. E. Badger. Jr.

’18 The Boy Pros ector; or, The Scout of the
Gold Ravine. I By er Starbuck.

 

0 Mi one th'Wood Witch or the utter!
q Bough By‘Edain Emerson: ' sq“

43 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. ByCol.‘

|

37 Old 'l‘ar Knuckle and His Boy Chums; or. f 80 The Bo

E
i
I

 

 

' 97 Hurricane Kit

Cruisers; or, Joe and Jap‘s Bi?

Find, By dward Wi‘llett. \

8 1 The B rd er Rover. ; or. Lost on the Over-
land Trail. By J. Milton Hoffman.

82 Aluska,:the Wolf Queen; or, The Girl."
Brothers” Double Crime. By Capt. C. Reward.

83 The Young Nihilist' or, A Yankee Boy
Among the Russians. By Charles Morris.

84 Little Rifle; or. The Young Fur Hunters.
By Capt. “ Bruin " Adams.

85 Fighting Fred ; or The Castaways o£
Grizzly Camp. By T. C. liarbaugh.

86 Dr. Carver, the “ Evil Spirit ” of the Plains;
or, The Chain ion Shot of the World. By 001.
Prentiss In am.

87 Rufl‘ Robsart and Hi: Bear.
“ Bruin " Adams.

88 Pony, the Cowboy. By Maj. H. B. Stoddard!

89 Gaspar, the Gaucho; or, Lost. on the
Pampas. By Captain Mayne Reid.
[£3411 Ertra La: ye Number.“

90 Texas Charlie, the Boy Ranger. By Col.
Prentiss Inmham.

91 Moscow to Siberia; or, A Yankee Boy
to the Rescue. By Charles Morris.

92 Boone, the Hunter; or, The Backwoods
Brothers. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

93 Oregon Josh the Wizard Rifle;
lYou‘ng Trapper Champion.

uc .

“murmur. Jim, the White Men‘s Friend.
’By Edward S. Ellis.

95 Plucky Joe, the Boy Avenger. By 1M.
Hoffman.

By Capt.

or. The
By Roger Star.

96 Roving Rifle, Ouster’s Little Scout By T.
C. Harbaugh.
;Hor. Old Lightning on the
Rampage. By A. F. olt. I
98 Sam Spence, the Broadhorn Boy. By Ed.
Willett.
99 Little Buck, the Boy Guide; or. The Gold
" Eye ” of Montana. By Barry Ringgoid,
l 00 Revolver Billy, the Boy Ranger of Texas.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
101 The River Riflei‘ or, The Fate of the
Flatboat. By Capt. J. ll‘. 0. Adams.
102 (‘a tain Fl -by-nght' 'or The Colorado
Boyl; on the war-Path. By 30s. B. Badger, Jr.-
103 Alone on the Plains; or, The Outlnw‘o
Plot. ‘ By Edward Willett.
104 Silver Horn and His Rifle, Firec-
death. By Roger Sterbuck.
105 Exploits of Hezekiah Smith, the
Baekwoodsmau. By Emerson Rodm n,
106 Jumping Jake the Colorado Circus
oy. By Bryant Bainbridge.
107 Mariano, the Ottawa Girl or, The
Mysterious Canoe. By Edward S. lis. . _
108 Old Traps; or, The Boy Rivals. By Barry
Ringgold.

1 09 Pony Bob. the Recklen Rider ortho
Rockies. By t 01. Prentiss Ingraham.

1 10 Center Shot the White (‘row- or. Row
ing Rifle’s First Campaign. By T. C. nrbaugh.

1 1 1 Ethelbert, the shell-Hunter; or, The
Ocean Chase. By Ned Buntline.

1 12- A Hot Trail; or, Clark Cioverly Among the
Tartars. A Companion to “From Moscow to
Siberia." By Charles Morris.

113 Hunter-Para Ben. By Roger Stu-buck.

l 14 The White Tigers. 1, By Captain Charles
Howard. ,
1 1 5 Elle Esquimanx’l Queen. By G. Waldo

rowne. w
116 Tim, the Boy Acrobat. By Charla
Morris.

1 1 7 31%": Ben-1e, the Border Girl. By Henry .

. omas.

us 1am Tabor, no BoyFugitive. ByBan-y
Ringgold. » ‘
119 Mink Coat, the Death Shot. By Joseph E.
Badger. Jr. Y
Th Snow-Shoe Trail: or, Moose
120 gadgets of the Frozen North. Wfline
am y.
121 The Do Vi lante or, King Cole and
His Band. yBy flea-B.  Stoddard. I
A newlaeue every Wadwday.

Bun ‘8 Bot”; LIBRARY is for sole byali now.-
denle 3 cents per copy, or sent by mailan

ceipt 0 six cent». ,
BEADLE All!) one. Pom
> William street.

I.