32.50 a. year. Entered at the Post Office at. New York, N. Y., as Second 01855 Mail Matter: Copyright, 1&3, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. June 27, 1888.

‘ Si 1 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS P I
V01. IV. Nugflgr. NO. g8 MLUAM STREET‘ NEW YORK. ’ Fivergeei’lts. N0.  i

 

 

 

THfiDRDBR ROVERSQEIEJN THE OVERLAND TRAIL.

BY J'- MILTON HOFFMAN-

. /... , (
\‘gé’flt’fiti, ‘ “

' I at.
1" "7/ .4559»; 3/1.? '
, ’WeJ /_ . «a
2 ; 

THE BOYS WIRE POWIRLESS TO HAVE Tm HORSES; THEY COULD ONLY KEEP CLOSE TO THE FIRE, PREPARED ’10 SHOOT
EVERY ONE OF THE “VENOUS BRUTES THAT MENACED TREK.

 

    

2

The Border Rovers.

 

 

The Border Rovers ;

Lost on the Overland Trail.

1 BY J. MILTON HOFFMAN,
1d.“ AUTHOR or “noaonr’s Burs,” arc.

~» . , ' CHAPTER I.
CROSSING THE PLAINS.

 

 

THE first picture is that of a canvas—covered ,
'wagon drawn by two stout horses, 9. boy of six« ‘
teen or seventeen years of age crouched up in I

the forepart of the wagon driving the horses,
=another'boy of about the same age, with a long
rifle over his shoulder, walking beside the
we on, two brisk-looking ponies, bridled and
sad led, quietly bringing up the rear; and a

coal—black dog of powerful build trotting along ‘

under the wagon.

The second picture is that of several canvas~
covered wagons, a dozen or more men, nearly
as many women, a number of children, and
a miscellaneous collection of cattle, horses, dogs
and other animals.

The two pictures represent two independent
parties, each apparently having the same pur-
pose in view—crossing the plains.

The distance between the two parties, on the
evening of which We write, was about five
miles. Neither was aware of the presence of
the other, and, as it happened, both went into
camp that night about the same time and began
to make preparations preparatory to spending
the night.

The first party was composed of two young

' men, Frank Rivers and Henry Richardson, aged
res ctively sixteen and seventeen. Both were
we 1 connected, their parents and other relatives
living in California, where they had gone some
years before, leaving the boys at school in one
of the many academies of the East.

The youths had their choice, either to follow
their parents to California by water, or go by

l land, in either case a long and perilous journey,
for at that time all of the great country west of
the Missouri river was a ,rfect wilderness,
and the route by Water was y the way of Cape
Horn, almost double the distance that it is
now. " -.

The two lads ch the land route, and it is
while making the rung and perilous journey
that we introduce them to our readers.

“There is an end to this prairie somewhere,
I suppose,” remarked Frank that evening, as he
cast his eye over the billowy plains which
spread out before them. “ I wish we could
have found a stream of water,,near which to
camp for the night, instead of having (to roost
out on thisdesolate rairie. I say, Henry,

what did " " do with t e horses?”
“ i’em loose, of course; what did you
suppose, I, .do with them? .Tle ’em- to a tree,

when thgi‘e’isn’t a tree within twenty miles of
us? Nohmu‘ch; I inst turned ’em out to grass.
And yoitiars gettln supper, I suppose?" .
“That’s. ust who Iam doin ," replied Frank.
“ Ev ng will. be ready 5 ortly. .I built a
. fire in no time, and if you will look eh rpyou
will see that the beam and coffee are coo ing in
fine style. It won’t be a first class ,meal, but I
guess it will do. «There, Hen , spread iscan-
vas—rag on the ground (are able-cloth. That
will do. Now for the s —l)acon, coflee and
dry bread. how do you- _ it? Mighty lucky
that we filled our/water’ean‘ at the tstream.
else ,there ’u’d have been; so cones lac-night,
sure. v - , , v
The boys ate hem'tfly; they were very hungry,
and the food tasted good. ._ '
What was left of he repeat went to the do ,
whose appetite was, as Henry remarks ,
- “ owerful strong.” \
his do was a homeless old fellow, a waif.
He had pa in an appearance at the beginning of
the journe , endi-no effort of the boys could
keep HID? ram lowing them; so, finally, they
ceased to that: 1m, and he trotted along un-
concerned filler the wagon“ Not knowing
his name, oflw‘bat else to col him, the b0 3 gave

him the name of Misery, and voted, as
utter no—account and worthless. And such
inde was the fact. So utterly good-for-noth—

lng wfis Misery that he ,Wouldn’t resent the bite

' of a mesquite, and he'even refused on every

occasion, when such a warning would seem
necessary, to give forth a, bark or a growl.

“ He is a historicwlooking old fellow, though,"

said Frank; “you can put it down in your

Bible that he has seen amighty sight‘of roughv'

service ln some field of operation. Lordyl look
at himieat."

 

7 But

Misery slunk away to his acdustomary lace
under the wagon, taking with him a huge gone,
for company.

The boys chatted away good~humoredltyj and
so the minutes flew by, and the shades 0 even—
ing gathered thickly around them.

“The moon is coming out bright and clear to-
ni ht,” said Frank, looking up at the sky; “it
W1 1 be full as good as a candle to read by after

'a while ”

_ f‘ But what have we to read?" demanded
Henlrly, “light or no light. ”

“ othing—ouly some old school books, and
as for me, Inever want to see a school book
again."

“ I guess you are about tired of everything,
fire ypu not, Frank? Tired of this trip per-

a S:

“ Well, yes, sort of tired.”

“ How far do you suppose we have gone by
we on?”

“ Three hundred miles, 'maybe.”

“ And we have been out ten days.”

“ Yes—thirty miles a day."

“ And where are we now?”

“ Well, now you stump me. Perhaps we are
in Colorado, or perhaps we are in Nebraska;
anyway, we are somewhere near the foot—hills
of the Rocky Mountains."

“ And Ca it'ornia—"

“Is more than fifteen hundred miles away.
What a couple of fools we were to undertake
such a journey alone.”

The boys were silent for some while, thinking.
It had just occurred to them that they had
started out on a ver long and tedious journey
Textile which they might never be able to accom-
p is .

“Well, we are in for it now, anyway,” ob-
served Frank, “so we will have to make the
most of it."

The fire began to Smolder and finally went
out entirely. The boys still remained seated
on the ground. The moon and stars were shin-
ing brightly, and in their light the prairie
seemed like a sea of glass. The horses moved
about leisurely, grazing at will. There was no
Wind.

“ How mighty lone=ome it is," whispered
Henry, still crouching on the ground.

“ Awfully so," returned Frank. “ Are you
not afraid i” ‘

“Of what?—wolves or Indians?"

" Both.”

“I am not afraid of wolves, and lie for Indians
——well, what few we have met have been very
friendly.”

“If we only had a ood dog,” su gested
Frank, “one who woulg be on the aert at
night to warn us of dam rer-a re ular watch-
dog, and not a stick like isel’y— should feel
more at ease. As it is, any sort of a band of
red-skins, however cowardly or small, could
gather us in. After this one of us ought to stand
guard while the other sleeps.”

While. they were talking the dog Misery got
u from under the wagon and began to move

‘ a at in a restless way, evincing more life than

he had done at any time since the journey be-

an. ,

“ Ate too much supper, I reckon,” remarked
Frank. .

“ Or else bothered with fleas," put in Henry.
“ Mise ', Misery, what fllla' you?”
‘ser did not reply with even so much
as a growl; 9 still continued to walk about, and
his restlesness increased every minute, Preacnt-
15' he be an to snuff the air, extending his lon
neck firs in one direction, then in another, unti
finally crouching down upon the ground, he ut-

tered his first growl, which was long and low.

For some minutes he kept this up, then, as if
satisfied with the situation, he returned to the
wa on and resumed his usual ’lazy demeanor.

be boys did not know what to think of this
singular conduct of the dog Misery.

‘ Somebody must have been prowling about, ”
averred Frank.

“ But, why should Misery take notice of such
an own”? asked Henry; “ he has never noticed
anythin before.” -

“ fa l to understand it,” replied Frank;
“ anyway, one of us will stand guard to—mght,
for it may be that there is den or near.”

The boys, were well-armed, aving each an
excellent rifle, a long hunting-knife and a brace
of istols.

t was agreed that Frank should remain up
the forepart of the night, while Henry slept a
change of guard being made some time after
midnight.

Henry therefore entered the wagon, in which
there was a good bed of blankets, and telhn
Frank to be sure and call him at once shoal

.somethin

 

apything unusual occur,‘ settled himself down to
s eep. ~

One, two, three hours went by. . ‘

Frank walked slowly, quietly about, listening
and watching. _ ~ . '

Still shone the moon quietly down, still ghm-
mered the stars.

Frank was restless and nervous; he thought
he could hear sounds in the distance; his young
mind had a premonitiOn of danger.

Once he thought he heard a voice near at
hand. He listened. The sound was repeated; it
was Henry sn’oring.

“ Pahl” he exclaimed. “ I am -a regular
ninny -pate; I would be frightened at my
shadow."

It was near] time to arouse Henry; it was an
hour after mi night. _

Frank walked around the wagon and was
about to call his com anion’s name when he
noticed a peculiar, live y movement of the old
dog Misery, who hadrisen to his feet and was
movin about under the wagon.

“ W at’s the matter, old dog?" queried the

b0 .

flisery answered with a growl so fierce that
Frank was frightened.

He called Henry, and the two spoke in whis«
pers a moment and then turned to Misery, who
was still growling.

At this moment a series of startling sounds

broke on the air, like the rattle of musketry, the

yells of infuriated men, the screams of women
and children—all so far distant as to be heard
only indistinctly, but still plain enough to strike
terror to the hearts of the boy adventurers,
who, not knowing what was the matter, could
only indulge in terrible imaginings.

CHAPTER II.
MUnnnnous MISCREANTS.

“A HORRIBLE affair," spoke up Frank at
length.

“ What is it?” whispered Henry.

“ A fight, I should say.”

“Among whom?”

“ Indians I guess; we are probably the only
white persons on these plains at present. The
red-skins are more than half the time at war
among themselves. 1 say, Henry, how would
you like to witness a battle ?”

“ First-rate; let‘s mount our horses and hurry
forward. We need not be seen by either
party.” .

The boys were soon on horseback galloping
forward.

The sounds of conflict continued.

Presently the yells increased in fury; there
were louder screams and sharper firing; then,
all of a sudden, a flame of fire shot up from the
ground, and riding nearer, the boys could see
of the conflict—a dozen white men
engaged in' mortal fight with more than fifty
mounted Indians, the latter victorious and now
shooting the whites down ‘like rats 'in, a plt.‘
Men, women and children [were alike being
murdered, and their bodies were thrown Him
the fire which the savages had made out of tne
wagons and miscellaneous goods of the trav-
9 cm. .

“Not a. life spared,”. said Henry, as the con«
flict drew to a close. “ If we only could have
helped them. .It is terrible to see such care
an e.”

gltis a warnin for us to keep out of the
we of the entire ndian race.” I

‘ Which is easier said than done,” remarked
Henry. “It will be lucky if we escape them
now.

A'very significant fact for the savages, hav-
ing completed their war of blood, and secur-
ing as much plunder as they could carry. were
leaving the battle-field, taking a direction,
which, if followed, would brin them in con-
tact with the two boys, unless t e latter should
immediately take flight, which they did.

Fortunawa the Indians did net‘see them, so
instead of ramming at once to thelr own camp,
they made a circle of the camp of the murdered
emigrants, halting at a point directly opposrte
where they were a few minutes before.

Here they remained uietly for more than an
hour, debating what to 0, not knowmg whether
to retuln to their own camp or not, fearing
that they might encounter the Indians on the

we . .

finally morningxbroke and in the gray light
gilthe dawn, the ys visited the gory battle-

e d.

It was a terrible ei ht, and once on the spot
Where the fiercest fig t had raged, the two
friends brought their horses to a. halt, and
gazeddown upon the blood-red ground, and not
aword was spoken.

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

The Border Rovers.

3

 

 

Then Frank, after a few seconds had passed,
dismounted, and leading his horse by the bridle,
walked around looking at the wreck.

There Were boxes and barrels scattered
around a wheel of a. wagon here and a wheel
there, dead horses lying on the ground, articles
of clothing scattered about promiscuously, and

* last, but by no means least, the bodies of the

slain, men, women and childre , torn and
bleeding, lying around, some on y headless
trunks, others burned and blackened so that
they looked scarcely human.

The boys did not desire to remain long gazing
at such a horrible scene.

“We may as well be off,” said Henry, who
was still mounted. “If you see anything
among these traps that you think we can use,
better nab it. There is a feather-bed sticking
out of that barrel—go for that; we’ll need it
when we go into winter-quarters.”

Frank gave the barrel a kick that sent it roll-
ing over and over: then he seized it by the two
ends and tried to lift it up, but it was too heavy
for him by many pounds, which surprised him
greatly.

So he tried to pull the bed out of the barrel,
gut it would not come: for some reason it stuck

ast.

This satisfied the boys that some one was hid-
ing in the barrel!

‘Take both hands to it, Frank,” suggested
his companion.

Frank did so, he braced himself for a moment
and then pulled with all his strength; as a re-
sult, the bed was pulled out upon the ground,
exposing to view a human form, but such an
one as neither Frank nor Henry had ever seen
before.

It was a Chinaman—a little skinny fellow,
with a perfectly bald head, save a long braid of
hair, or cue, which hung down his back.

The little ratreater was scared half to death,
and started to run, but Frank caught him, and
holding him at arm’s length, said to Henry:

“If there is a name for it let me know what
it is.”

“Chinaman!” egacnlated Henry. ,_ “What a
looking critter! ’11 give you fivo dollars for
the animal.”

"No: I’ll not take less than ten; it’s worth
that much as a curiosity.”

The boys had never seen a Chinaman before;
in fact, t ey were scarce in this country at that
time. -

“ What were you doin in that barrel?” asked
Frank, addressing the frig, toned Celestial. '

“Everybody killee-fightee—me hides,” an—
swered the Chinainan. “ 1 no likes to stay
here.” ‘

“I should think not; it don’t seem to have
been a very safe place. ’Were there any more
like you in the party?"

TheChinamun answered in the negative. He
seemed to understand all that was said to him,
and could himself talk very fair English. He

ave his name as Chung F0, said he came from
Hong Kong, and was recently from San Fran-
cisco. -He had crossed the plains a few months
previous in company with a California tea-mer-
chant, and was on the return trip with the
same gentleman when surprised by. the Indians
as already related. Chung F0 did not know
for certain that his master, the merchant, was
among the slain, but su pesed he was, although
he himself had hid in a arrel at the beginning
of the fight, and therefore was not an eye-wit-
ness to the massacre.

Our young friends re rded the Chinaman
with no little curiosity. H: was to them asingu-
lar being. Whether t 52y should like him or not
remained to be seen.

“I suppose you will go it alone now, Chung?"
rsnmrked Hrnry, jocosely, as be straightened
l‘imsnif in the saddle.« ‘

The Chinanmn looked piteously out of his al-
mond shaped eyes.

“Don’t bother the or fellow; of course he
goes with us. Here, ‘hung, get on behind me,”
ordered Frank. ,

It required some little coaxing to induce the
Chinaman to accept the _roifered seat.

He was not an accomp ished rider, and his ap-
pearance was anything but graceful, hunched
up behind Frank, his pig-tail flying in the wind,
his thin legs dangling over the horse’s back, and
his big mouth stretched from ear to ear; he
looked more like some sort of ape than like a
real human being.

“Take a bee-ins for our own camp,” said
Frank to Hen , who was in the lead several
yards; “only 00k sharp that the place isn’t
alive with red-skins." _

They dashed along. ' ,

Presently they came in sight of the camp.

 

 

The team-horses were still grazing near by.
Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Even
the old dog Misery was stretched out under the
we on, asleep as usual.

enry boldly rode up to the wagon and dis-
mounted. Frank and the Chinaman followed
suit in a few minutes. The boys were glad to
get back and anxious to resume their journey.

“ It is a little strange that the red-skins didn‘t
see our horses and wagon,”, remarked Frank,
“ they certainly returned this way."

“ But it was dark when they returned.”

“ Moonlight."

“ Anyway, it suits us first-rate," declared
Henry. ” It would be mighty unpleasant to be
left here on this barren prairie without even so
much as a blanket. I hope nothing so horrible
as that will befall us.”

Frank, not having slept an that night, was
very tired, so while he rests , Henry and the
Chinaman prepared breakfast.

After breakfast the boys hitched up the horses,
broke camp without ceremony, and were soon
moving rapidly away.

It was then that they discovered for the first
time that they were being followed.

A black ohJect in the distance more than a
gile away caught the eye of the ever watchful

enr .

“ but can it be?” he whispered to himself.

He called Frank’s attention to the moving ob-
ject.

“A red—skin, perhaps.” '

“ Hardly,” returned Henry; “ red-skins go
in bands; they very seldom travel alone. I
am of the opinion that it is a white man."

“ Let’s halt aWhile' perhaps the fellow will
show himself plainer. ’

They halted on the open prairie and remained
stationary for more than an hour.

But the horseman did not come any nearer;
he seemed to comprehend what was wanted of
him, and for some reason or other refused to
advance: he even dismounted, and allowed his
horse to graze at will.

The boys were puzzled to understand the
movements of the stranger.

Even the Chinaman noticed the queer inci-
dent and silently wondered who and what the
man could be.

“ A misereble camp-follower.” said Henry,
in disgust “a rowling thief, perhaps a mur-
derer. The fellow has no doubt been in our
wake several days. I’ll get a Whack at him
with my rifle, first he knows.”

“ Be careful that he don’t get a ‘ whack ’ at
you first," suggested Frank. .“ I have a notion
that the fellow ,means mischief.”

" What sort of“ mischief?” ,

“Why, he may be 'one of a band of robbers,
such as l have read about, who live in the
mountains and murder and rob travelers. This
fellow may be a deco or spy, who will watch
us until we come to tie roger place, when he
will inform the rest 0 t 9 band who will
pounce-down upon us like a lot of vultures.
distrust this fellow mightily."

“ So do I,” echoed Henry; “ but what are We
to do about it?"

“ I don’t know, unless we run him down and
capture him. The idea isn‘t a bad one. Sup—
pose we do it?” '

“ Agreed!” assented Henry; “ only let’s don’t
be in a hurry. Perhaps the fellow will show
himself plainer after a While."

Once more they moved on.

The sun by this time was high in the sky;
and the broad, sweeping prairie shone like a
billowy sea.

The boys avoided the bloody battle-field of
the night previous by going a mile south of it,
then, turning north, they re-entered the beaten
California trail, and rapidly continued on their
way.

Meanwhile the strange horseman followed
them at a safe distance, sometimes disappearing
altogether, then riding so near them that his
outline could be distinctly seen.

Still he was careful no to come within speak-
ing distance, and, in fact, kept for enough
away not to be recognized as either white or
red thand upon this point the boys were still in
don t.

All that day the boys were watchful of the
strange object in the distance. They made no
further halts until late in the evening, when,
reaching a wooded stream, the only one of the
kind they had seen for several days; they came
to a standstill and began to make preparations
for passing the night.

As usual 9. fire Was built, blankets were
spread upon the ground, horses were put out to
graze, and after supper, which consisted of

ried meat, coffee and bread, they stretched

vi

 

themselves upon their blankets and quietly di~-
cussed the situation.

Finally, as the hi ht wore on, it was decided
that Frank and C ung F0, the Chinaman.
should retire for the night, while Henry would
stand guard. ‘

This was Henry’s suggestion, and it was
acted upon at once.

“There are two persons whom I intend to
watch," he muttered, as he was left alone—tbs
Chinaman for one, and for another, the mys-
terious horseman.”

CHAPTER III.
THE PHANTOM RANGER.

HENRY had a suspicion that the Chinamnn
was playing a part; that he was not what he
Seemed to be— a poor, inoffensive creature, with
scarcely a friend on earth and nowhere to
his home.

And as for the strange horseman, he did not
know what to think of him, his movements
were somysten‘ous and he seemed so utterly
devoid of any rational purpose.

And then, to connect this strange person
with the Chinaman, Henry was almost certain
he had seen the latter making mysterious signs
30 ltihe stranger, on his last appearance before

at .

“It maybe that I am mistaken about this
gig-tail chap,” he said, “but I thought I saw

irn'signal to the horseman by a movement of
his hands above his head. Perhaps I am wrong
about this, but it will certainly do no harm to
watch ’em both.”

He moved his blanket to a point distant
about twenty yards from the Wagon, and seat—
ing himself t ereon, with rifle in hand, began to
watch the prairie closely. ,

By this time the moon had risen and was
shining brightly. A few fleecy clouds were
floating in the sky. There was no wind. and
the stillness was broken only by the chomping
of the horses grazing near by. No sound even
came from the wagon; Frank and the Chinaman
were soundly sleeping, and under the w on,
also soundly asleep, was the worthless dog, is-
ery.

An hour passed.

Henry was still keeping faithful guard. -

Another hour passed. -

There was no sign of an one approaching.
The silence was almost sepu chral.

The boy got to his feet and walked around a
spell; then he stretched himself upon his blan-
ket again, and, finally, despite his efforts to the
contrary, his eyes closed, and be was soon, like
the rest of the camp, fast asleep. ,

Then, in the moonlight, half an hour later,
appeared a solitary horseman riding noiselessly
over the prairie.

Once he encircled the camp of the travelers.
then riding boldly up to the wagon, he gave
the canvas cover a vi orous strokewltn his
hand and immediately t ereafter darted away
a few yards, where horse and rider stood like a
statue in the moonlight.

Presently the Chmaman alighted from the
wagon, and passing around where Henry was
stretched out upon the ground, said, in a sharp,
pipin voice:

“ ’ elican boy, oh golly mighty; lookee!”

Henry came to his senses slowly, and looked
in the direction indicated by the Chinaman.

“The mysterious horseman,” he said, rising
to  feet. “I say, man or ghost, who arm.
you

There was no reply; the horseman was like a.
 of marble and as motionless asthe ground
1 e .

“ Who are you?” again/demanded Henry.

Still no reply. '

Henr brought his rifle to his shoulder.

“ Tel me wh are you following us?” he
called out. “ have a notion to shoot you
down.”

At this the strange being burst into a laugh
so hideously unnatural that Henry was both
astonished and frightened. Followin this on?—
burst the intruder suddenly gave his orse the
reins and dashed away.

Henry followed him with a rifle-shot, which,
however, fell Wide of its mark, for the strange
rider never halted, but continued to ride swiftly
awa , and was soon lost to view. ‘

“ ne, gone,” muttered the boy, as the stran—
ger disappeared. “That was a mighty poor
shot or it would have brought him down. I‘ll
have to do better next time, sure.” ’

“ Did you shoot at him, Henry ?" asked Frank,
who, hearing the racket, had hurriedly alighted
from the wagon. ' ‘

“Shoot at him? I should say I did,” replied

/

  

  

o

' 4

 

The Border Rovers.

 

 

Henry. “ But what use is it mshoot ataghost!
Did ever an body hit a ghost?"

“You res ly don’t mean to say this strange
horseman is not human ?”

" 1 don’t mean to say anything; I don’t know
anything about it. I only know that its laugh
was not like that of a human being.”

“Did you see its face?”

“ No, only a dim outline of it.”

“And the firm?”

“ Well, I can’t describe its form no more than
I can its face. The appearance of the creature

' was that of an Indian, crouching in the saddle

like awild animal, a mass of hair streaming
over its face, long arms and legs, and a laugh
which to me was simply devilish. Frank, do
you know I think this grinning Chinaman is in
some’way connected With this mysterious mon-
ster.

“What makes you think so?”

“ A number of things. Tell me why was it
that he was the first to discover the presence of
the stranger to—nightl I awoke to find him
bending over me. and the mysterious ranger
only a short distance away. More than that, I
can almost swear I saw this miserable rat-eater
aggnal to the strange horseman last evening.

but do you think about it?”

“I don t know what, to think,” "answered
Frank. “One thing. I shall watch the China-
man closely after this, and if he gives the least
Bis-if) of treachery—”

he Chinaman appeared at this moment,
and looking from one boy to the other, said:

“ e o to sleep ’gain—me no likee wakee
u . Bel y bad man make such noise at night.

0 shootee next time.”

With a grin which was meant to be pleasant
the Chinaman departed for the wagon.

“You may as well follow suit,” suggested,
Frank to Henry; “it is not near morning yet,
and I have already had some rest, while you
have not. Go to sleep. ”

k genry decided ‘to remain outside on a blanv
e .
“ Perhaps the horseman will return,” he said.

“No fear of that,” said Frank. “ I venture
he is too great a coward to take two such risks
in one night.”

The rest of the night was passed without ac-
cident or occurrence worthy of note, and at
daybreak all hands were up, and it was not
log before the journey was resumed.

veral times during the day the mysterious
horseman was seen, an it was plainly apparent
that he was still bent on keepin the boys com-

pany, no matter, how great a dis oe separated
them. ‘
So the days seed. The boys were becoming

very tired of t e journey, and more than once
the wished that they had never undertaken
me a trip.

And another thing, it was no certain thing
that they were following the right trail. In-
deed it became evident soon that the had gone
too for south b more than a bun red miles,
and were, in ma ityxlost.

The boys were undecided what to do. Cerv
tainly it was not worth while to continue mov-
in alon in this uncertain way; and as for
ta in t 9 back track, that was out of the

ne on.

While in this r laxity, the strange horse-
man began to in e imself more fami ar than
since the hi ht of his sudden advent into the
cam of the avelers.

“ hat does the creature want, I’d like to
know,” said Frank; “ I live in continual dread
of him. This morning I surprised him within
less than three hundred yards of us, and I
reall believe he had been still nearer.”

" have a plan to capture him," said Henry,
speaking up suddenly.

“ What 13 it?” ,

“ Let’s go into camp right here, leave the out-
fit with our Celestial friend, Chung Fo, while
you and I will go back half a mile or so, secure
a good hidin — ace, and when this cha comes
along—whic e is almost sure to do—i will be
no trick at all to gather him in.”

The scheme struck Frank favorably, and the
two boys were ready to carry it out at once.

So, informing the Chinaman of their inten-
tions, and instructing him to remain there until
they returned, the ate a few mouthfuls of
bread and meat, t on mountin their horses,
took a circuitous route which nally brought
them to is int in the rear of the canines nearly
a mile dis nt. Here they conceal them-

:filves that best they could, and prepared to pass
6 n .

B his time darkness had set in, and the
pro 0 was like a vast sea of gloom.

“The follow will not appear to-night," as-

/

 

sored Henry, “but we may expect to see him
in the morning, sure.”

The boys slept by turns that night; early in
the morning they were both awake, expecting
every minute to observe the stranger somewhere
near them on the prairie.

And they were not disappointed.

Suddenly the strange horseman came into
view. He was riding slowly. He did not seem
to know that any one was near. .

“ He is not coming toward us,” said Henry;
“ we are as near him.now as we can be by re-
maining here. Let’s out and after him.”

Without losing a moment they mounted their
horses and dashed toward the mysterious horse-
man, taking him completely by surprise.

But the stranger was still some distance awa ',
and being well mounted, he was not so easi y
overtaken.

The boys emptied their revolvers at him, but
without effect; he seemed not only bullet—proof,
but proof against capture, so easily did he ride
away from his pursuers. Still a lively race was
kept up, which lasted for more than an hour.
Then the young men drew rein and acknowl
edged that they were beaten.

be greater part of the forenoon was con-
sumed in making the return trip.

The boys were both very tired; it had been a
hard ride, and, more than all else, profitless:
for that reason the young men did not feel in
the best of humor.

“ Everything seems to go wrong lately,” re-
marked enry disconsolately; “but the worst
of all, we have lost our way. It is bad enough
to be followed by a specter, like this strange
horseman, but when it comes to losing our way
in this vast wilderness, that is awful. What do
you think about it, Frank?”

But Frank did not reply. He was lookin at
something in the distance—a. wreath of lglue
smoke curling up from the ground.

Henr sawit almostimmediately, and uttered
a cry 0 surprise.

“ t is near our camp,” he said; “ perhaps the
Chiuaman is preparing dinner for us. Who
knows?”

They quickened their speed and were soon
within a short distance of the camp—near
enough to discover that all that was left of the
wagon and other property was a smolderin
mass of embers. In their absence some one h
“ burned them out," had even fired the grass
around the cam , had stolen their horses and
had departed wit out even so much as a sign to
indicate who they were or where they had
gone.

A suspicious circumstance connected thereto
was the absence of any trace of the Chinaman.
There was nothing to show what had become of
hiig—agothing to indicate whether he were alive
or e .

 

CHAPTER IV.
ADRIFT on THE PRAIRIE.

“ WHAT does all this mean?” asked the boys,
almost in chorus.

It was a surprise such as they had never re-
ceived before. .

“ What has become of the anaman i” asked
Frank; “ there is no trace of h anywhere. "

“I have had my suspicions of 'him all along,”
replied Henry, “ and now I can almost swear he
is a treacherous scoundrel.” , ;

“ Whatl on don’t mean to accuse this China-
man of havm destroyed the camp?" questioned
Frank hurrie ly.

“ That is how it looks to m'e,”replied Henry.
“Didn’t I tell you that he and this mysterious
horseman are in some way connectedi’ '

U Yes. i! I

“And doesn’t it look strange that while we
are in pursuit of this strange rider our camp
should be destroyed. our horses stolen, and the
Chinaman gone? To me it isa clear case of
treachery.” r

“ But could not this work have'been done by
a roving band of hostile IndiansW'asked Frank,
still doubtful. .,

“Yes, of course it could 3," replied Henry;
“ but in that caso wouldn’t flieChinaman have
been killed? There are no signs of a murder
hereabouts.”

The case was a com licated one, and, try
their best, the boys coul not understand it.

But there was one thing they _could under—
stand, and that was that they were now wholly
and completely adrift on the prairies .

The situation was a terrible one if v viewed in
anyvlight. ' ,,

but were they to do? ., , ,

“We cannot retrace our steps,” and Frank,

“for we are without food, and the distance is

 

now too great. The chances are that we would‘

perish of hunger or be murdered outright.”

_ “And as for going on,” said Henry, “that is
impossible. We do not know the way; we are
(is .

Toremain where they were was also an im-
oesibility. The country swarmed with hostile
ndians; and then, even should they escape

begin from that source, how were they to sub-
is 5’

“I’ll tell you what let’s do,” said Henry at
length, “ let's look for the Chinaman. I’ll ven-
ture that he is not more than ten miles away,
and if so, we may overtake him. The rascal
had sense enough to carry away a good lot of
provisions; he didn’t intend to starve."

Frank shook his head. He did not believe
that the Chinaman was a principal in the affair,
or that he was in any way connected with the
mysterious horseman. However, he was quite
willing to make the search if Henry thought
best so he said:

“ Vlzich way had we better go? If you think
the Chinaman has some sort of connection with
this strange horseman, perhaps it would be as
well to follow the latter instead of the China-
man. Any nay you please.”

To the southwest an unknown number of
miles there appeared to be a wooded stream, or
forest, and in that direction the boys finally de~
cided to go. In reality it did not seem to mat
ter much which way they went, they were so
completely adrift.

Without further hesitation they started off,
It was serious business with them now.

They moved rapidly over the prairie.

Both were good riders, and their horses car-
ried them well. The prairie was as level as a
floor.

OH, on they went, and neither spoke a word
for more than an hour.

Gradual] the appearance of the country
changed; i became broken and rugged, and
there were hills in sight.

“ We are coming to a mountainous country,”
said Henr ; “ five miles back of us there wasn’t
a rock to e seen, not even a pebble; now look
around us—millions of rocks and stones. ”

“ And trees, too,” spoke up Frank, with a
ifnovement of his head indicating the direc—
ion.

The afternoon gradusll wore away.

The boys still continue their journey.

When the sun was yet an hour high they
reached what seemed” bea range of moun—
tains, clothed with ' timber and cut up
with dark ravines an rocky can one.

“ How horribly wild it is,” exc aimed Henry,
his voice showing considerable nervousness.
“ I wonder if these mountains are inhabited.”

“I suppose so—with wild animals,” answered
Frank.

“ Wolves?”

“ Yes,-—wolves, Wildcats, panthers and bears.
For all we know to the contrary these moun~
tains may swarm with the wildest and fiercest»
animals in all creation.”

“ Well, if so, what are we going to do about
it?” asked Henry.

“ More than I can tell,” answe'ed Frank;
“ anyway, I’d rather be here than on the prairie;
here we are less exposed; we can at least con-
ceal ourselves if necessary. How is your appe-
tite, Henry?”

" Much too good, particularly as we are on—
tirely without food. Lucky that we have
plen y of matches and a blanket a iece.”

The boys concluded to explore t e mountains
for a short distance and see whatoould be seen.

So the entered a rock ravine and rode cau-
tiously ong its side, al the while keeping a
close watch for any sort of game, for their sup-
per depended upon what they could shoot.

Finally Henryi saw a bird like a pheasant
drumming on a 0g and blazed away at it with
his revolver, killing it at a single shot.

“ That was a capital aim,” exclaimed Frank;
“I’ll bet you could not do it again in fifty
years.” ‘

“ Perhaps not,” said Henry; “ but for all that
you will acknowledge that it was a lucky acci-
dent.

Theys rung off their horses at once, and it
was not ong before a bri ht fire was burning
in an open space among t e trees; the horses
were turned out to graze; blankets were spread

upon the round, and shortly thereafter the
bird which enry had killed was roasting over
the fire.

“The bill of fare is limited to one dish,” re-
marked F'rank, laconically, as Henry prepared
to serve the smoking mea . “ What are we go-
ing to do for salt?"

‘60 without it," said Henry.

 

 

The Border Rovers.

5

 

 

“That‘s about all we can do," replied his
companion. “How long can a fellow live on
meat alone?"

“ Not very long on tough mea‘t like this. I
say, Frank, I’ll bet this bird was a. hundred
years old.”

“Perhaps so; but it’s the best we can do at
present. After this confine your marksman-
shi to younger fowls; let the old bids go."

be boys rattled on in this way until they
had finished eatin , when they carefully stowed
away what was aft of the meat, after which
they began to discuss the situation, particularly
that which concerned them at present.

“We may as well stay where we are to-
night," said Frank; “we are probably as safe
here as we would be anywhere else in the moun—
tains. There is one thing in our favor; we are
well armed.”

Besides a revolver apiece, the boys each had a
light rifle, and they were also well povided
With ammunition.

“How about the horses to night,” queried
Frank; “ are they not likely to stray away?"

“ I think not; at any rate, all we can do is to
risk it.”

The evening wore on. The sun had hardly
disappeared from View when darkness set in.
Then came the moon and stars. There was no
wind, neither was there any dew or other mois-
ture. It was slightly cold, however, so the boys
kept up a good fire, the flames of which often
rose high in the air.

“ Rather a dangerous signal,” remarked
Henry, quietly.

“ How so?” questioned Frank.

“ What if robbers or Indians were near. How
about wolves and bears?”

“ They’d all know just where to find us,” ac-
knowledged Frank. “I had not thought of
such athin until now. I hope we’ll not be dis-
turbed by ndians, at any ram.”

At this moment there as wafted on the
quifit night air a distant h 1 like that of a
we

The boys started.

The howl was repeated.

"What is it?"

“ I don’t know."

An hour passed, during which space of time
no more such sounds were heard.

The boys wrapped their blankets around
them, and went to sleep. ’

The fire was still burning brightly, and the
moon and stars were still shining.

At length about midnight, a long, thin, sharp-
nosed animal, with a sneaking gait, crept up to
within a few yards of the fire, and stood with
extended neck looking at the sleepers.

And there he remained standing for several
minutes, and the boys were unconscious of his
presence; they were still sound] y asleep.

Presently the sneaking, hungry creature
o ued his savage jaws an gave forth a howl
t at was sim ly deafening.

Both boys eard it, and were on their feet in

A

:an instant. Frank seized his rifle, and as the mid- ‘

night prowler, which proved to be a wolf, start—
ed to run, sent a bull crashing through his head.

“ That was a capital shot for you, exclaimed
Henry, as the wolf rolled over on the ground.
“I wonder if there will be any more such visi-
tors to—night.”

These words were hardly spoken when there
came a chorus of fierce howls from the neigh-
boring rocks and trees, and very soon from
every pomt of the fire could be seen a dozen or
more sneaking, hungry brutes, with flaming
eyes and “‘3 jaws. ready to devour the young
tramps, on the spot.

Atthis moment Henry thou ht of the horses,
and it occurred to him that like as not they
would fall victims to the wolves_
. And such indeed proved to be the case. The
poor animals Were taken by surprise, and
pounced upon, 83011 by. a score of famishing

rates, they were soon literally torn to pieces.

The boys were powerless to save their horses;
they could only keep close to the fire, prepared
to shoot every one of the ravenous hrutes that
menaced them.

After finishing the horses the hungry horde
turned their attention more closely to the young
travelers. ,

Snap ing, snarling, growling. snufllng the air.
the due y demons rushed in and out of the light
of the fire, now slprin ing forward with open
jaws, then as quic 1y arting backward, all the
while keeping up a terrible and savage roar.

Frank and Henry used their rifles with deadly
eflect. In the space of an hour as many as
twenty red-tongued monsters ware killed out-
ri ht and a number were badly wounded:

hen the boys, running short of ammunition,

 

and fearin still for their lives, sought protec-
tion in the ranches of a tree which stood near
by, where they remained until morning“ -

Meanwhile the wolves seemed frantic With
disappointment, and the woods and hills re—
sounded with their savage howls.

 

CHAPTER V.
A DESPERATE SITUATION.

As the light of day be an to dawn, the wolves
one after another quiet y disap eared, and by
the time the sun was up they be all gone, and
the boys were alone.

“I uess we might as well get down now,”
said enry; “ there is not a sign of a wolf about
an where; the coast is clear.”

be boys climbed down from the tree at

” once.

“What shall we do now?” asked Frank.

“Count the wolves we have killed first.”

They did so as near as they could and the total
amounted to twenty-three. Several of the
wounded no doubt had crawled away and died
among the rocks. '

The young nomads were in a de lorable Situa—
tion. Their horses had been ki led, and now
they must travel afoot, and, worse than all else,
they were not abundantly supplied With ammu-
nition. '

“We may mane e to exist a week or two in
this wa ,” remarks Henry, who did not appear
very isconsolate under the Circumstances.
“There is one thing we must do, anyway.”

“ What is that?” .

“Get out of this ravine; the miserable lace
is packed with wolves and other anima s. I
don’t want such another deal as we had last
night.”

“Nor I either," averred Frank; “let’s take
the back track at once.”

As rapidly as their feet would carry them
they parted company with the mountain
ravine.

After a long and tiresome walk they found
themselves once more on the prairie.

Then they breathed easier.

“ I am wretchedly tired," admitted Frank, as
they halted a moment to take observations.

“And I am wretchedly hungry," returned
Henry. “Where is our next meal coming
from?"

That was more than either of the boys could

ll.

They moved along slowly, and neither spoke
for some minutes.

It was now past midday; in a few short
houis darkness would be upon them again.
Then what would the do?

A walk of an hour rought them to another
tract of timber, with rocks and hills scattered
here and there in the distance. A slu ’sh
stream of water wound its way over the bro en
prairie.

“Where does it come from?” asked Frank;
lookin at the stream.

“I on’t know,” replied Henry.

“ Where is it going?”

“ Neither do I know that."

It was evident the boys were losing heart;
their courage was fast leaving them.

They followed the stream a mile or so, then,
as the day was drawing toa close, they began
to make preparations for the night. ' .

“ This time we’ll try the open prairie,” an-
nounced Henry; “ there are no mountain wolves
on the prairie.”

They found a place near a large, round rock,
--tor there were many rocks Scattered out OVer
the prairie—and here they resolved to pass the

mg it.

“Neither of them had artaken of food that
do v. and both were there are very hungry.

Still no complaints escaped them; they were
trying to be very brave. So they wrapped
themselves in their blankets and lay down on
the cold ground.

Henry went to sleep at once. Frank was
wakeful. Once he thought he heard the distant
howling of wolves. Surely these bloodthirsty
brutes were not oing to attack them agam.

He awakened enry,‘ and the two hstened to
the distant cries.

“ What if they should come?"

“It would be the last of us,” declared Henry.

The boys did not think it likely the wolves
would visit them that night, so they putfiside
all thought of danger and went to sleep again.

About midnight Henry was aroused by the
net hing of a horse class at hand.

8 sprun tohis feet in an instant; he looked
all around im: he walked out on the prairie
and looked and listened.

There was no ’horse or other object to be

u

 

3
seen: the plain was bare; the prairie was as
silent as the grow!

The boy returned to his blanket, but he could
not sleep. It seemed to him that some terrible
danger was near. In no way could be account
for the neighing of the horse, which he had
surely hear .

After a while he dropped into alight slumber,
and was not again aroused until near morn-

mg.

Again he heard the neighing of a horse; again
he sprung to his feet and looked over the
prairie.

The moon had gone down and the stars alone
served to light the gloom.

There was no horse visible!

An hour passed; light broke in the east, and
gnagy the sun came up and another day was at?

an .

The boys got ready to move on, but for all
their readiness, they new not what to do or
where to go.

“We must find something to eat," decided
Henry... “I am almost tarnished. Is there no
game along this stream?”

“ It seems not,” replied Frank; “ but perhaps
there are fish in the water that we might
catch.”

This was a new idea, but a good one, so
they started for the stream at once.

But there were no signs of fish in the little
water-course, so they started down the stream,
keeping an eye out for game.

The midday hour arrived, then the afternoon
began to wane. and finally the sun went down,
and another night was opening to the world.

The boys were now scarce y able to move;
they were both tired and weak—victims of a
terrible hunger. ,

“This is awf ,” said Frank, gloomily.
“Food, food, all we want now is food. ’ ,

Scarcely had he said this when a rabbit
bounded from a thicket near at hand, and run-
ning a few ards down the stream, halted, and
looked and istened.

There was the one chance to save themselves.
Henry brought his rifle to his shoulder, took
quick aim and fired.

The rabbit dropped dead in its tracks.

In less than five minutes thereafter the juicy
meat was roasting over a brisk fire, and it was
not long before the boys were enjoying the best
meal oi their lives, although it consistéd solely
ofl rabbit meat, and that, too, served without
SE 8.

That night the boys declared they were feel-
ing very well. Whatever else troubled them,
they were at least not hungry, which was an
appreciable feeling, certainl .

Henry collected a little dry wood which he
put on the fire. .-

“ The nights are a little cool,” he said; “sup-
pose we keep up a fire.”

“And bring down u on us a gang of Indian
cutthroats," returned rank. “It is rather‘
risky, seems to me.”

Henry changed the subject by asking about
the mysterious horseman, what had become of
him, and if Frank thought he were still follow-
ing them. '

“We haven’t seen him for more than three
days,” was the repl ; “ rhaps he is now fol-
lowing Chung F0 t e C inaman.”

“More than likely they are to ther some—
where,” observed Henry. “I stilfethink they
were in some way connected.”

'The fire burned low and finally died out en~
tirely. Then the boys, scraping to ther a.
quantity of dry grass, which they ma a into a
bed, wrapped their blankets around them and
lay down to sleep.

“I hope nothing will disturb us Ibo-night,”
said Frank; “ I am very tired.”

“ So am I,” said Henry. “ let’s go to sleep at
once.”

It was not long before the boys were quietly
sleeping. Then adark figure, having the ap-
pearance of a man, and mounted on a coal-

lack horse, came out of the darkness and quiet-
ly approached the sleepers.

The moon was shining bri htly at the time.
and in its light the face 0% the rider
ghostly e and grim. It was a face that bone
marks 0 suffering, and the fbrm was that of a -
man decrepit with age. Astreggllng mass of
long, black hair gave a wild appearance to the
horseman, a devilish aspect almost indesorib—

able.
Still slumbered the youngadventurers, dream-
in of home and friends.
earer the horseman approached them, bead-
ing in the saddle like a wild animal readyto
spring, his glaring eyes looking through a mass
0 tangled hair.

i

 

,6

The Border Rovers.

 

Just then his horse gave aloud fleigh, which
aroused the sleepers, both springing up at once
and instinctively seizin their rifles.

“What was it?” said enry.

"Lookl look!” returned Frank, pointin to
the horseman, who was as motionless as a b ock
of marble.

“The mysterious ranger,” exclaimed Henry.
“Speak to him, Frank, and maybe he will re-
spend.”

“Who are you? What do you here?” said
the boy. “Speak! man or ghost, and let us
know who and what you are.”

The horseman did not reply, but with a
startled look, he whirled his horse around, and

then with a cry half of terror, half of rage, ,
! catch us?”

dashed away over the plain.

“ Why didn’t you shoot?” was the cry of
each of the boys to the other.

“ Never thought of it once, I was so frighten-
ed,” acknowledged Frank.

“The same with me,” echoed Henry.

, “ Will the creature be liable to return again
to-nizht’l”

“Not likely that he will: he has see“1 us once,
and that is enough. I am certainly not going,
to lose any more sleep for him. Come, let’s
turn in.”

Once more the lads laid down to rest, but it
was a full hour before either of them was
asleep.

The mysterious horseman did not return, and
the rest of the night passed without occurrence
of any kind.
> It was broad daylight before the boys awoke;
the sun had been up an hour.

“What is the billof fare for breakfast,” ob-
served Henry, looking over the well-picked
bones of the rabbit which had served them for
supper. “I for one would like mighty well to
have a change of diet. I say, Frank, do you
think that we are absolutely alone in this
wilderness?”

“ Wild animals and wilder Indians, perhaps,
live here. Look! there go some of the latter
now. A party of Indians, as sure as I am
alive.”

A band Of perhaps twenty mounted Indians
passed by not more than a quarter of a mile
awe. .

At sight of them the boys crouched low in the
grass, and so remained unseen.

The savages were soon out of sight.

“I’d sooner starve than fall in with such a
crowd as that," asserted Henry.

“So would I,” returned Frank; “ but don’t
let’s starve if we can help it, so come along, and
keep your eye on the lookout for game.”

 

CHARTER VI.
A STRANGE HABITATION.

THE boys were at a less to know which way

to o——east, west, north, or south.

hey finally concluded to follow the stream,
11 3 that it would lead them out of the
wi derness, or at least bring them to a trail of
civilization.

So they pushed along, with sturdy determi-
nation on their faces, and not a complaint was
heard from either of them, although the situa-
tion was most perilous.

Finally, after trudging along for more than
an hour, the boys observed with pleasure a‘
change in the appearance of the country; the
bills were loftier, the trees taller, the rocks
larger, and the stream wider; it was a trans-
formation that seemed to promise good luck to
the tired and homeless wanderers.

“We miss our horses reatly,” remarked
Frank, as they trudged aong. “I’d rather
ride any day than walk. How would it be to
build a. raft, and float down the stream.”

“A ca ital idea," exclaimed Henry, “only I
can’t see ow weal-e going to build a raft with-
out hammer or nails. Yonder is a fallen tree
just ready to float away that we might use as a
 Don’t you think it would hold both of
us

“Perhaps so; only we’ll have to get our feet
wet riding it. I’d much rather have a real
boat, like the Mary Ann we used to use on the
Hudson. There don‘t Seem to be any conven-
iences out in this countr .”

“None to brag o ,” said Henry. “But
plight this tree for a raft, shall we try to use
It?“ Yes.” ' ‘

They went down to the water’s edge. and
were about to push the tree out into the stream
when an exclamation from Henry interrupted
proceedings immediately.

. “Aboat, a boat!” he cried,

intin to the
opposite shore. “Look! lookl"po , 3

after midday. The scan

 

It was even so. There chained to a tree was
a small boat, having a capacity of about three
persons. It was a rude a air, but nevertheless
a boat, and evidently the property of some one
living not far away.

Henry thought of the mysterious horseman
at once, and wondered if this boat did not be-
long to him.

“Too ridiculous for anything,” said Frank;
“ this boat is either the property of an Indian
scout or a white hunter; more likely the latter.”

“It would be stealing I suppose, to appro
priate it ourselves?” said enry.

“ I should say it would,” returned Frank:
“ and then we might get ourselves into serious
trouble. What if the owner of the boat should

The boys reasoned the matter over, and

. flnally concluded not to disturb the boat, but,

instead, see if they could find the owner, hop—
ing that he woqu be a hunter or some one who
would befriend and help them.

Leading from the boat up the hill there was a
well-worn path, and this the young tramps fol-
lowed l’or a distance of several hundred yards,
when they came to a rocky ledge which formed
the base of a high hill. Here the path came to
an end, and here was what ‘seemed'to be the
habitation of a human being; it was a iiOllsi‘
made almost wholly of huge rocks, the work of
nature more than the work of man. Viewm

 

from the outside the place bore the appcm‘llliw- .

of a rocky fortress. The front only was (X-

posed, the sides and rear being each a part of .

the hill. The door was a strip of deer-skin, and
hung 10058 to the ground where it was fastened
on the outside by a peg which held it in its
place.

The boys were cautious in their approach of ,

the queer abode.

They did not know how the inmates, if there
Were any, might receive them.

Perhaps the place might be the home of some
craven creature who would delight to murder
them in cold blond. '

“Keep your rifle ready,” whispered Henry;
“ we don‘t want to be taken unawares.”

“The place is unoccupied," said Frank.
“ There is not a sound to be heard.” ‘

“The proprietor is asleep,” laughed Henry.
“ Cautiously now.”

They listened at the door, but heard nothing;
they bent their heads, and watched, waited and
listened.

_ Henry raised the deer-skin curtain and looked
in.

“ The coast is clear,” he announced; “come
on' a nice place in here.” ,

The room was large, light and airy; the rocky
walls were hung With deer-skins, and a bed of
fur occupied one corner of the room. There
was a rude table near the door, upon which
were several tin dishes. plates, cups, spoons,

ans and several iron utensils used for cooking.

hen there was a fire-place and a perfect chim—
neiy-way, and over the fire-place on afeg hung
a arge piece of dried deer—meet, an near at
hand on a rude shell? was a small sack of corn-
meal. Several cakes of the latter baked into
large biscuits were on the table, tempting
viands forour young friends. who,had been
without food since the night before.

“ Seems to me we have struck it rich,” said
Henry; “let’s dive into these biscuit, the first
thing; it don’t make any difference who made
them."

“Perhaps they are filled with poison,” sug-
gested Frank.

“ i‘ll risk it, anyhow,” said Henry.

The boys gave their undivided attention to
the food for a little while, and then, after satis-
fying their hunger, began to look around for
fresh discoveries. .

Among other things they found a pick and
shovel, and other tools for digging, and, last
but not least, a treatise on mining, the book
well-worn and badly soiled.

This latter gave the boys a clew to the in:
dividuality of the owner of the habitation; he
must be a searcher after precious metals, a
miner of a recluse order. a genius.

“ So then there is gold in these bills,” mused
Frank, as he glanced over the book.

“Gold or silver,” said Henry, “ probably
both. Maybe the old fellow who ives here has
made his fortune. Who knows?”

They pulled aside the deer-skin door and
went outside.

' The sun was shining bri htly: it was an hour
of the river running
near by could be distinctly heard.

“Whele do you Suppose the old fellow is?”
asked Henry. , I

“ How do you know he is an old follow 7”

l

 

“ Just naturally think so; he must be digging
somewhere.”

“I suppose so. At any rate, he’ll find some
company here when he gets back. Wonder
what he ll say?”

“He’ll be pleased to see us,” opined Henry,
“I know he will. No doubt he’d like to know
something about what is going on in the world,
and that’s the sort of information we are chock
full 0 .”

The boys walked a short distance away from
the house to 'what seemed to be a shed or stable
made of rocks, poles and brush. It was just
large enough for two horses, for which purpose
it was evidently intended, although it contained
no such animal. .

Back of the stable, where the sun shone the
brightest, the boys encountered an agreeable
surprise. Stretched out upon the ground half
asleep was a largedog, none other than Mis-
ery, the lazy old dog known to them more
particularly during the forepart of their jour-
ney! He was the same old fellow, just as lazy,
just as sleepy, and apparently just as worthless
as ever.

“ So here is where you live, is it, Misery?”
and Frank patted his dogship‘s head.

Misery indicated in a feeble way his recogni-
tiop of the young adventurers by wagging his
tai . .

“ Can’t you say something, old fellow i” went
on Frank: “ tell us who your master is, where
he is, and how long you have lived in these
parts? I always thought you must have an in-
teresting history. Come, if you can’t talk,
bark.”

But, Misery was silent, and the boys finally
returned to the house leaving him to enjoy un-
molested his dog dreams.

The day wore on. ,Finally the sun disappear—
ed behind the hills. Still the owner of the
habitation remained absent. The boys looked
and waited for him until the hi ht was half
gone, then believing that he won] not come at
all, they made use of the bed of fur, and were
soon soundly sleeping.

It was late when they awoke the next morn-
ing. The old dog Misery was at the door wait-
ing to come in.

“Want your breakfast I reckon,” remarked
Henry. “ Well, you shall have it.”

The meal was prepared in short order, and as
quickly eaten. Then Misery was given his por~
tion, which he seemed to relish greatly.

Nothing ha pened that day out of the usual
order. Fran ‘ and Henry remained in or near
the house all the while. not caring to venture on
any exploration of the surrounding country.
Every moment they expected to see the owner
of the place put in an appearanca, but the day
passed and he did not come: neither did he
come that ni ht nor the next day nor the day
following. here was something strange in
this continued absence of the rightful owner of
the house, Perhaps he might be dead, the boys
argued, killed by Indians, or torn to pieces b
wild animals, while engaged in his daily toil.
There was something mysterious about it any»

way.

One night, after the boys had gone to rest,
they were startled by the shrill neigh of a horse,
sounding ver near at hand.

They seize their rifles and hurriedly left the
room. There was no moon that night: the dark—
ness was intense. ~ They could see nothing.

Returning shortly to the couch of fur, they
sle t until morning.

everal times that day, while seated in the
house, or wandering among the trees and rocks
that bordered the stream, were they startled by
stran e sounds, like some one whispering to
himse f, the train of horses’ feet, the cracking
of dry sticks, a su ued laugh or cough—sounds

which the young men could not understand and

far less appreciate. .

Once, w ile they were out a short distance
from the house, Henry had his rifle taken from
him in a mysterious way. He had gone down
to the water’s edge to bathe his face, leaving the
weapon leaning against a rock a few steps away.
He was only a minute absent from his rifle, but
when his/returned to where he had left it, it was
» one. It had disappeared strangely and quiet-

y. it had disappeared for good.

“ And you are sure you did not conceal it
somewhere ourself?” questioned Frank of his
companion t at night.

“Sure— rfectly sure,” was the reply. “It
was taken y somebody, but further than that

I know nothing]. lPCan it be that the mysterious
, .

horseman is st ollowing us?!’

b .“ More_(tihantpr(ébgble,”'admitted Frank. “I
, avean 1 on a ev sus us ev ni htand
prowls about the house. . an 8

lswwa

 

 

.‘3’

, ‘ Mama. .3

a

 

The Border“ Royal-s.

7

 

“ I'hen let’s lay a trap for him.”
“ How?”
“ Conceal ourselves outside until after mid-
ni lit and watch the house.”
he idea was a good one; Frank indorsed it at
once, and the two boys were soon ready to put
it into execution.

CHAPTER VII.
A CHANGE or CIRCUMSTANCES.

Now far from the house, and overlooking the
beaten path which led to the stream, was a
clump of bushes, in the center of which was a
large rock having numerous projections and
angles. It was near this rock that the boys
found concealment and for the space of three
or four hours watched and waited for the com-
ing of the mysterious horseman.

But they watched and waited in vain; no
one put in an appearance, not even so much as
a shadow was seen.

Discouraged and almost disheartened, the
boys returned to the house, Where they remain-
ed the rest of the ni ht.

In 'the morning enry started out alone,
hqiping that in the same in sterious way his
ii 9 had been taken it would returned.

But no such good fortune betll him; there
was no trace of the rifle anywhere; it had been
spirited away for good.

While standing beside the stream meditating
over the strange occurrence, he distinctly heard
the dipping of cars in the river not a hundred
yards away. «

“ A mysterious boatman this time ” said the
boy; “let me get a sight of him if can." ‘

He crouched low on the ground and fastened
his eyes u on the stream.

Present y a boat glided into view; it con-
tained a single occupant, a hideous—looking
creature having the form of a man, none other
than the m_ sterious horseman.

“ Halloo! ’ cried Henry; “ I wish to speak to
you. Helloo!”

The boatman ave no reply, but redoubled
his exertions at t e oars, and was soon lost to
view among the trees.

“ Gone, gone,” exclaimed the boy. “ I wish
I had asked him to return my rifle. But then,
I’ll see him again; he shows up now once a day
regularly.”

When Henry related the circumstance to
Frank, the latter asked him why he didn’t
shoot the stranger when he had such a good
opportunity.

‘ Didn’t have any weapon with me,” was the
reply, “ not even a jack-knife.”

‘ And is the boat gone—the boat that belongs
to this house!" A

“ Yes; I looked to see, and it was not in its
usual place. The wreth who stole my rifle also
stole the boat. Dar-nod it such work don’t
make me mad.”

That day the boys started on their first trip
of exploration in the mountains. The purpose
of the journey was to see if there was not a
mining settlement somewhere near, which, if
there was, they might be able soon to continue
their overland journey to California or return
to the civilization of the East.

” We need not get so far away from here
that we cannot return; this will be a good place
to fall back on in case we do not find something
better. As it is, we are not gaining anything
by staying here—only losing time. Let's make

 

- an excursion of a week’s duration at least.”

They commenced making preparations for
the journey. Besides a good store of provisions,
a quantity of ammunition and a tin cup, which
supplies were'furnlshed by the unknown owner
of thehouse in which our young friends had
been living for some days, Henry procured a
mile from the same quarter, and thus equipped,
the boys started 03.

They traveled rapidly at first, and when the
sun went down that night they were in the
neighborhood of twenty miles from where they
started in the morning, and more than all else
they had certainly strucka trail of some kind,
for on all sides were indications of a traveled
thoroughfare.

“Perhaps this is the regular Overland Trail,”
suggested Henry.

‘ i so the best tuing that we can do is to lo-
cate here and wait for a train,” said Frank.

The boys were Very hopeful n0w. They con
structed many a castle in the air that night,
and when, at a late hour, they retired to rest it
was with a feeling that their troubles would
soon be at an end.

At midnight, Henry, who was the lightest
tlee r of the two, awoke.

athought he heard strange sounds in the

distance.

 

“What ails you, Henry?” demanded Frank;
“you are alwa s prowling around like a night-
hawk. What 0 y0u hear?"

“A lot of strange sounds,” retplied his chum;
“there were a few rifleeshots, i
taken. Listen !”

Achorus of fierce yells sounded on the air
nearly a mile away, then came a volley of mus-
ketry, followed by shouts and screams and cries
of victory, and then came the tramping of
horses’ boots, and presently there came into
view, just so as to be discernible, a band of
mounted red-skins whose only purpose seemed
to be to escape from a pursuing enemy.

The darkness prevented a close observation of
all that was going‘on, but it seemed to the boys
that a battle had been fought near at hand be-
tween contending bands of savages, with the
result as above stat-d.

Our youn friends were of course very much
alarmed. hey feared for their own safety
and finally concluded that the Overland Trail
was not the safest place in the world and that
it would be policy for them to leave it at once.

“ Where shall we go?” asked Henry, now
thoroughly discouraged.

“ Anywhere—it don’t matter, only so that we
get awaf,Y from here,” answered Frank. “I am
not at a 1 anxious to fall into the hands of these
red devils; it would be certain death.”

They hurried awa in the darkness, going
they did not know w ere, and carin less, hav-
ing only one purgme in view and t at was to
escape discovery y the Indians. ' ‘

The remainder of the night was passed in this
way, and when morning broke the young fugi-
tives found themselves deep in the solitude of
the mountains,-——a stretch of country more wild
and picturesque than any they had yet seen.

On, on they went, foot-sore and weary, their
young hearts quaking with fear and their minds
filled with apprehensions most terrible. _

They were now in what seemed to be a moun-
tain canyon, or ravine, alon the sides of which
were high hills covered wit thick bushes and
trees, and in the center a dashing stream which
had its source high in the mountains.

On the banks of this stream the boys halted
to rest a few moments, and it Was while thus
resting that they caught si rht of a strange
figure moving about among t e bushes on the
opposite shore. .

“ What is it?” whispered Henry, clutching his
rifle firmly in his hand.

“ I don’t know,” replied Frank.

“A grizzly bear maybe.”

“ Perhaps so. dertainly not a man.”

There was a snapping of the bushes and a
rustling of the leaves. he figure did not ven-
ture into plain view.

“The mysterious
Henry.

“ Like as not ” returned Frank. “ I wouldn’t
give much for his life if I catch sight of him.

8 have had quite enough of his antics.”

Suddenly the moving figure came into plain
view; but it was not the mysterious horseman,
not a grizzly bear or other animal, not an In-
dian warrior, not even a white man, none of
these—it was an Indian squaw!

She saw the boys as quickly as they saw her;
but, contrary to their expectations, she mani—
fested no desire to evade them.

She stared at them a moment and then said,
in tolerable English:

" White boys, what doing here i” *

“Nothi —only wandering about,” answered
Frank. “What are you doing here?”

“Live here,” replied the woman quickly;
“live here long while. Me no wander about
like white boys.

“And have you ahome somewhere in these
bills?" questioned Henry, with a show of curi-
osit .

“ es, mighty good home,” replied the wo-
man; “ lent to eat, plenty to drink; every-
thing nice. e have usband likewhite wo-
men."

The boys concluded at once that she must be
the wife of a white hunter, as they had heard
that it hap cried frequently that these men
married In ian .wives, with whom they lived
contented and happy.

“How far is your home from here?” asked
Frank.

The woman pointed rip-stream and said: .

“Just little ways; get there soon. White
bovs come with me.” i

be boys hesitated but a moment. The in—
vitation appeared tohewell meant. They de-
cided to accompany the woman to her home.

The three had not gone far when a horse
gr» zing on a hill-side attracted the attention of
the boys.

horseman,” suggested

I am not mis- '

 

There was sOmething familiar about the ani-
mal. The size, color and general appearance
corresponded with one of the horses stolen from
them, as they supposed, by Chung F0, the
Chinamau. '..

‘“ It’s the same horse,” declared Frank; “and
now the question is where is the thief?_ Perhaps
‘we shall know more after awhile.”

They walked on in silence. , ' I

Soon they came to a ledge of rocks, on one
side of which was the mouth of a cave, and a
little further on a rude house, a rt of which
was an excavation into the hi] side, the rest
being constructed wholly of rock, even to the
roof. The entrance to this sin ular abode was
by a winding path which on d suddenly in
the house itself.

The Indian woman led the way, the boys fol-
10wing timidly. I

Once in the house they were greeted by a
rough voice, which said:

“ Great thunder! who have we here?”

The s eaker was a heavy—set, rough-looking
man, With as hard and cruel a countenance as
the boys ever remembered to have seen.

“ Can’t you speak out? Who the devil are
you 2’” demanded the stranger. ,

The boys looked frightened; they were evi-
dent] expecting such a rough reception.

“ I 'here did you find these precious darlings!”
went on the man, turning to the woman, who
stood near, evidently enjoying the sceiie.

“ Found them little way off," replied the wo-

g man; “both no account—mo money, no nothing.
' Kill ’em.”

The woman laughed hideously.

“Before I kill ’em I’ll find out who they are,”
observed the man. “ Now let’s hear the clatter
of your tongue. Whoare you?”

“Only travelcis," replied Henry; “we have
lost our way."

“ Ah! that’s bad. How did you happen to
lose your way 2‘” ’

Henry began to recount a few of their recent
misfortunes.

“ Never mind giving me all that rot,” broke
in the man savagely, “all I want to know is if
you have any wealth about you—any valu-
ables?” . .

“What do you mean?” cried Frank in amaze
ment.

“Just what I say i” thundered the man. “I
suppose the old woman here gave you the usual
lie about her husband being a hunter?”

“ And are you not a hunter?” asked Henry in
sur rise. , ,

‘ In one sense I am,” was the repla —“a hun~
ter of men. I am the leader of a rid of rob~
hers, and you are my prisoners.”

 

CHAPTER VIII.
an on'anw’s PARADISE. ,
IF ever either of our young friends were thor-
oughly frightened, it was now. ‘ M
For a moment neither of them could speak.
Finally Henry said:

“We are doing no harm to an one. For
what reason are we made prisoners ’ .

The man laughed. , .

“You are two fine blubbers,” he said. “ It is

a matter of business with me to take all the
prisoners I can, not for the prisoners themselves

ut for their money. Robbery is my business;
bear that in mind. Now, if you have any uln-
ables. shell them out.”

“ We haven’t anything,” declared Frank.

“ What! no money?” ‘

“ Not a cent.”

“Nor valuables of any kind?”

“ Nothing but our arms.”

“ I see—nothing but a couple of rusty rifles.
Well, you are poor—very poor. However,
rifles are good property to keep in stock, so you
may pass them this way.”

A rebellious spirit seized the boys at this mo-
ment, and quick as thought Henry leveled his
ride at the robber’s head. I

“ Fool! villain! coward!” he cried, “I have a
mind to shoot you dead! What right have you
to demand our rifles? No, we will not” give
them up !” .

As he spoke, the Indian woman, who stood

near, blew a shrill whistle, and immedia 
i

there rushed into the room‘several save e~loo
ing men, each with a weapon in his ban .

‘ What? Where? What is it?" they yelled in
chorus. .

The robber chief inted to the young men.
Henry had lowere his rifle, and the two stood
close together. ;

Seeing the boys, the crowd began to ice: and

laugh - . r -
“ You don't tell me that either'oi these chaps

a

u

 
    

W mm, W—

w w, W W».

«W... -..,,.,....~.._.m.., r.,a......».u W“

\ ghwm

 

‘ flow, were Secure]

r plied the man.

; be'i‘gour

8

" , The‘Border Rovers.

 

 

show’d fl ht?” asked a villainous wretch look-
in from rank to Hen with a leer. ‘
cit er of ’em look very an erous."

“A couple of runaways, reckon,” remarked
another 0 the outlaws.

“ Youn sneak-thieves, more like,” suggested
a third vi in. “Did ye find anything valer-
able on ’em captain!”

“Haven’t searched ’em yet," returned the
robber chief. “Here, Jim—Bille-Mose—see
that the risoners are relieved of their rifles.
What a at of fools you are! Suppose those
guns should go off? Seize the young rascals at
once!”

The boys saw how‘ useless it would be to make
any resistance, so they gave up their rifles with-
out a murmur. r

“ Now search them,” said the chief.

They submitted to a thorough searching,
which resulted in finding nothing of Value. ThlS
made the crowd boil with rage and disappoint-
.ment.

“Such miserable skunks have no business to
live,” was the savage remark of one of the rob-

are.

“It’s not intended that they shall live very
long, eh, captain 2” observed another of the

gang. , ,

“ Not if there’s no money to be - made out of
’em," replied the robber chief. l

“Well, there certainly isn’t," returned the
first s eaker. “Of course it isn’t at all pleasant
to kil ‘em, but how can we help it? Let ’em go
and they’d be back here inside of a month with
a regiment of soldiers, and then what would be-
come of us? Oh, no; it'll never do to let ’em

0.
This opinion was shared by others of the
band, including the chief himself, and it was
therefore decided at once that the young prisow
ers should be killed, but the date of execution
was not determined upon, neither was the man—
ner of death made known.

“It’s all up with us,” muttered Frank, as
Henry and himself were being led away. “ I
wonder if they’ve got a good tight place to keep

s

“ Bet they have,” growled Henry. “ Here we
are now.” .

A shortdistance in the cave wasa large, light,
airy room, used by the robbers as a sleeping
apartment, and it was here that the young cap-
tives Were taken, and being thrown upon the
bOund hand and foot.

“ We don’t usua ly do this sort of work,” re-

' marked one of the robbers, with a savage oath;

“ we don’t take risoners, as a general rule; it’s
a bi waste of 15 me and labor.’

“ hen why‘keep us prisoners?” asked Frank,
reflectively, v

“Because you are only boys, I reckon,” re—
“ It may be that the captain
wants to makelservants out of ye—we need a
couple 0’ good servants.”

“ Haven’t you any now?”

“Yes one—a Chinamnn—"

“A dhinaman l” exclaimed Henry.

“Ye a. Chinamam Didn‘t I say so .plain
enough He’s a re ular pig‘tail Chinaman, and
he’s good-looking. e spared his life because of

his beaut , the which won’t work in your case,
cots on that."
a boys thought of Chung Fo at once.

_, They wondered if he were not the Chinaman
spoken of by the robber.

“ How long have you had this beauty, as you
call him i” questioned Frank.

“ About two weeks, more or less,” was the re-

l .
p Q: And where did you get him?”

“On the prairie; he was going it all alone.
We jist pounced down upon him, so to speak.
We captured the whole outfit.”

“ Outfit?”

“Yes, thar was a we on nd two horses, and
a lot of othcmruck. e set fire to the wagon
and brought the Chinaman and the horses here.
The pi -tai1 works hard every day and seems
perfect y contented.”

The boys were no longer in doubt as to the
identity of the Celestial.

‘9 Bo Chung F0 is also a prisoner," mused
Henry. “I was wrong in thinking that he was
in . some way connected With the mysterious
horseman. but there has never icon any com-
panionship between them, I am now certain.”

That night the captive boys overheard the
robber chief and several of his men in earnest

conversation. ,
“Thin a are gettin ml hty hot here,” said
the chic “and the at t ing we know we’ll

be run down by a regiment of Uncle Sam's
loldlers‘, The trouble is we are doing too much
8. . . I . .

a

‘3 Don’t

the rest of his life.

 

“More stealing and less killing, then, yoh
think?" put in one of the men. ,

“Yes; now, for instance, these boys; what‘s
the use of killing ’eml I was in favor of it at
{firsthbut now I am not. Let the young chaps

we.

There was a murmur of disapproval among
the men.

f‘ Oh, I don’t mean that they shall have their
freedom,” explained the chief, “ not altogether;
but just keep ’em' under guard for a few days,
and see how they behave. Perhaps we may
learn something from them that may be used to
advantage in our business."

The next morning the ho 3 Were told that the
robber chief had grante them a few days
longer to live, and that, in case they behaved
themselves, and did not try to escape, their
lives might be spared altogether. At any rate,
they were expected to ert'orm the duties of
servants, holding themse ves always ready to
wait upon their masters, a failure of which
would subject either or both of them to pain of
instant death. -

With this understanding our young friends
were allowed the freedom of the cave, with per-
mission to go outside on] when in company
with one or more of the to hers.

It was understood that any one of the rob-
bers, from the chief down to the lowest one of
the lot, might at his pleasure take the life of
either or both of the boys in case his slightest
command were disobeyed. From this it may
be seen that our young friends were in very
dangerous hands. One slight mistake might
cost them their life, and, as for escape, that
seemed utterly out of the question.

As servants of the robber band the boys were
not to have an easy time of it. Their duties
were various, and consisted of ‘labor of all
kinds, from taking care of the horses of the
men to cooking and serving their meals. It
was drudgery of the worst kind, and. to make
matters worse they were in constant fear of
being murdered.

It was several days before the young captives
understood the character and full purpose of
the robber band. Little by little they earned
all about them, and the better they knew them
the more thoroughly the;' despised them.

The robber numberm in all thirty men, all
hard cases, ready to murder and rob at a mo-
ment‘s notice.

Perhaps the best man of the lot, in the sense
of humanity and justice was the leader of the
band, whose name was Humphrey Gray, better
known as Black Humphrey, because of his
swarthy complexion.

Black Humphrey was a sharp, shrewd man,
alert, vindictite, and when thoroughly aroused,
a perfect devil. He had been an outlaw many
years, and would probably remain an outlaw
He never remained long in
a. place but preferred to make frequent changes,
and so become better acquained with the whole
country in the double sense of robbery and
murder. He had been in his present abode
about two years, within which time he and his
band had done an extensive business in ca tur-
in Overland trains and coaches boun for
C ifornia. Dis uised as Indians they were
wont to sudden y attack a train of emigrants,
murder men, women and children, and transfer
the captured property to their mountain home.

80 t 6 name 0 Black Humphrey got to be a
terror to all those who contemplated a trip
across the plains, and to fall into his bands was
generally looked upon as certain death. _

Years before, Black Humphrey had secured a
partner for life, an Indian woman, whom he
called his wife. He had a certain amount of
affection for her strange to say, which she re-
turned with dou 1e interest. 1

Her name was Hester, a name her husband
had given her, and by which she was known to
the robber hand.

She had no friends or relatives of her own
race, the tribe to which she properly belonged,
being almost extinct.

To the robber chief and this woman a child
had been born some ei ht years before—-a girl,
who was even now an nmate of the cave.

Her name was Inez.

She was a sharp, active, restless little girl,
and a perfect picture of beaut?r and health.
Her face was dark, her eyes jet-b ack, large and
expressive, and her nose and mouth shape y and
in perfect keeping with the rest of her face.
One thing, she did not seemto realize what sort
of compan she was in, and for that matter,

her whole its had been passed with just such as

they, and in the mountains, consequently she

was not aware of aydiflerent sort of existence.
Frank and Henry regarded the little girl

 

curiously; what her future would be, and what
could have been her net, and if there was not
so e mistake about er bein the child of the
re ber chief and his dusky wi e. .

“ She’s a bright little thing, anyhow,” said
Henry “and ought not to be in sue a placeas
this. he seems to want to make friends With
us. I guess I’ll cultivate her acquaintance.”

There was a double meanin in the words of
the boy—a very significant meaning, as Will be
seen further on.

 

CHAPTER IX.
snavnvo MANY MASTERS.

THE boys found their new home not avery
pleasant one.

There were too many masters to serve, and
then they were in constant fear of their lives.

Any moment they might be shot down like

dogs.

“ We had better stayed where we were—at
the old miner’s cabin,’ remarked Henry, the
(is following their capture. “ I know the end
wi 1 be that both of us will be murdered.”

“ But escape, Henry—isn’t there some way to
once e?”

“ don’t know of n y,” refilled the boy.
“You see it isn’t safet even ta about it now.
Perhaps t e best thing for us to do is to try to
win the confidence of our captors, then we may
be granted greater freedom, and so mane e
after a while to escape. But about Chung o,
the Chinaman; he is here somewhere; or at least
he was taken prisoner, like ourselves."

“ Maybe they murdered him,” suggested
Frank.

“Like as not,” returned Henry; “ made a
mistake of some kind perhaps—a very slight one
no doubt—and because of which got the top of
his head blown oil’ by one of the robbers. Oh,
they are a frolicsome set, these outlaws.”

Lute that nig ht the boys discovered their mis-
take about the Chinaman.

He had been away all day in company with
several of the outlaws, on a. hunting expedition,
and returning that night, was at once taken into
the resence of the white captives.

0 on know these young tellers?" asked
the rob er chief, with a motion of his head
toward the captive boys.

The Chinuman grinned.

“Me know ’em, ’ he said.

“ Well, do you know anything good about
’em?” continued the chief.

“Berry much good tellers,” said the China-
man, still grinning. “Me likee hub ’em here
bell muchee.”

“ es, I don’t doubt it,” growled Black Humn

bray; “first‘class compan is always desirable,
But can’t say how long ’11 let ou associate
together. ~ It’s not very safe to bar or an enemy
or place confidence in strangers. 80 watch out
how you carry yourselves.”

Our young friends were ver much dis—

,heartencd over’the turn afi'airsha taken. They

were badly perplexed and troubled.

A week passed.‘ There was no change in the
situation. The whole outlaw band remained
quietly at home. The boys were treated with
a fair degree of kindness by all. The little girl
Inez, for some reason or other, began to show
great friendship for Henry. . v

” You are working it mighty fine,” whispered
Frank one day to his companion-“ stealing the
affections of the robber chieftaiu’s daughter!"

Henry laughed.

“That sounds very hi h and lofty, Frank,”
he said; “an it a ain. e diiference Letv e< 11
us is this, while am looking after the'liule
girl, you are lookin after the old woman.”

As a matter of act, the latter did show a
friendly spirit toward Frank. 7 ’

As a result of this double attachment the
boys received better treatment than at first,
and were gchn greater liberty.

So the days passed. Finally there was an
Indian scare, which created a commotion
among the robbers.

Several of the band, while within less than a
score of miles of the cave, were attacked by
Indians; two of their number were killed, and
the rest put to flight. This created general
consternation among the outlaws. The two
men killed had been prominent members of
the band.

“Curse the infernal red devils,” said the
robber ch’ef; “ the two men killed were worth
all the In inns in creation.”

Investigation developed the fact that the
hostile Indians had been hanging around the
neighborhood of the cave for se'eml days.

At the head of a dozen mounted men the

 

.hhfifiqtfi..- .,......,.- . . .

, m.-. “noun...

The Border Rovers.

. ......,.,--............ m.._w~.-—.m.m~ I wan—r

9

 

 

robber chief started in pursuit of the save ,
swearing vengeance upon their heads shoal he
overtake them.

Meanwhile the boys remained at home, doin I
the drudgery of the miserable place, always and
ever at the heck and call of any of the outlaws;
they were held in abject slavery.

Occasionally they would be al owed to go out-

'side the cave and stroll around amon the rocks,
but never beyond hailing distance any of the
men.

Once Henry and Inez strolled out together,
and seated themselves on a rock not a great dis-
tance from the mouth of the cave,

Henry was busy carving something out of
wood for the little girl, who, all the while, kept
up a continual clatter with her young tongue.

Meanwhile two stealthy figures were creeping
toward them, moving low on the ground.

“ This is a charm to hang about your neck,”
said Henry to the little girl, as he completed his
work. “ It’s mighty pretty, don’t you think so?”

Before she could reply, before 5 e could say a
word or even cry out, a hand was placed over
her mouth and she was lifted by strong arms
and carried away.

Henry was served in like manner, with the
one exception that he was dragged instead of
carried.

It was all done in an instant, and so forcibly
that neither Henry nor Inez had anything like a
correct idea of the situation until, a few min-
utes later, they found themselves in helpless
ca tivity among the Indians.

be two stealthy savages had done their work
well. While the rest of the band, which num-
bered in all about a dozen warriors, had re-
mained in concealment a few steps away, the
two prowlers had seized their victims and quick-
ly dragged and carried them into the presence
of‘their waiting comrades. There was no out-
cry from either the girl or the boy. On pain of
instant death, Henry was kept from crying out,
while, as for Inez, the sudden fright had ren.
dered her unconscious. !

Having accomplished their purpose, the sav-
age ban starts immediately with their cap-
ti ves for other quarters, losing no time in their
flight. All were well mounted,'hence they went
rapidly, and, traveling as they did all night, the
next mornin found them a long distance away
from the rob ‘ den.

The latter place was in great commotion when
it became known that Inez and the captive boy
Henry had disappeared.

Search was made for them at once, not only
throughout the various recesses of the cave, but
among the. adjacent rocks and hills, and the
name of‘the young girl was shouted from a
dozen throats, as the robber band searched in
vain for the missinglgirl and boy.

Meanwhile the ndian met or wrung her
hands and sobbed and moaned piteously. Her
grief was terrible; she could not be comforted.

At midnight the robber chief returned, and all
unconscious of what had happened in his ab-
sence, began to recount the incidents of his trip.

He was interrupted by his Indian wife, who
told him briefly what had happened.

“ You are deceiving me," he cried. “ It can-
not be that Inez has disappeared: she is some-
where in the cave. Come, bring her forth at
once.”

Further explanation was made, and the rob-
ber chief was soon in possession of all the (Eli‘-
cu-nstances relating to the disappearance of
Inez and the captive boy.

“Where is the other captive?" he asked, at
length, “the com anion of this boy who has dis—
ap eared’l Bring liim into my presence at once.”

rank was hurried into the presence of the
robber chief. '

“ What do you know about this business?" the
latter asked.

“ Nothing—absolutely nothing,” replied the

‘y‘You lie, you yonn devil—you lie !" roared
Black Hum hrey. “ ell me what has become
of my dang tei- before I murder you. Where
is she?”

“I know nothing—absolutely nothing,” still
persisted the boy.

“ Did you not see them together—the boy and

‘ I?”

“Yes, but I do not know where they went.
Please do not blame me for their disappearance;
I would gladly bring them back if I could.”

The robber chief was silent a moment, then
he said: ,
“I am afraid it is the work of the red-skins;
the devils have been here in my absence and
have stolen my dau liter. How I hate the
treacherous scoundre ! Now let me think of
some way to punish them. They shall suffer

 

 

for this, the brutes, depend upon it. Heaven’s
curses be upon them l"

There was no sleep for any of the outlaw
band that night.

Early in the morning they were scouring the
adjoining country in search of a clew which
mi ht lead to the discovery of the missing ones.

inally Black Humphrey himself came upon
what he considered good evidence of a recent
visit of a band of savages. -

Footprints in the sand, not ordinary boot-
tracks, but moccasin-tracks, with a trai which
led into the mountains—a trail which was cer-
tainly that of a hand of savages.

“There is no longer any doubt that Inez has
been carried away by the red-skins," said the
robber chief. “ Let us start in pursuit at
once.”

It was decided that the pursuing party should
consist of twenty picked men, including Frank,
who begged hard to go.

The situation of the boy was peculiar. It
would not be difficult for him toescape now,
but the desire of escape was swallowed up in
the greater desire to save Henry from the red-
skins.

This the robber chief understood, and it was
because of this that he gave the boy permission
to accom any them.

Not on y did he grant him this privilege, but
more: he gave him a horse to ride and armed
him with a rifle, knife and pistol.

Fully prepared for any emergency, the pur-
suing party started off, the robber chief leading
the Way.

Behind them were mother, wife, home and
friends, before them was a terrible uncertainty.

CHAPTER X.
AMONG THE INDIANS.

NOT more than a hundred miles from the
home of the outlaws was an Indian village,
where lived a small band of the then powerful
and bloodthirsty Cheyennes.

The village was situated in a mountain can-
yon, and in the midst of a wilderness of trees,
rocks and hills.

Living in this isolated place, the savages, to
the number of about fifty warriors. were wont
to carry on a foraging business similar to that
of the outlaw band, with the one difference that
they never were known under an circumstances
to show mercy to an enemy. T eir first desire
was to murder, then followed plunder and pil-
lage as secondary considerations.

t was into the hands of theSe cutthroats that
Henry and Inez had fallen: but, strange to re-
late, instead of killing them at once, the red
butchers conveyed them to their home among
the rocks and hills, there to do with them as
they saw fit.

The chief of the savage band was known to
the whites as Little Horse. He was a cowardly
bmte of a fellow, vindictive, designing, cruel
and bloodthirsty. Between the robber chief
and this savage had long existed an intense
hatred, and itwas because of this that thelatter,
watching his opportunity, had stolen away the
robbers only chi d. 1

Having reacl ed home with the captives, Lite
tle Horse commanded that they be keptjn close
confinement.

So they were taken to a mud house, which
occupied an open space in the center of the
village, and there left, with their hands and
feet securely bound, and the door of the place
locked tightly. ’

" I have been waiting a long while for this,”
said the chief of the band, in his native tongue.
“Now what will the white robber say? He
will tear his hair and moan and wail, then he
will weep hitter tears. And his agony shall be
greater still. The bloody scalp of the little
girl shall be thrown in his face, and her blood
shall be scattered over his garments. The cap-
tive boy also shall die, not b the tomahawk.
but by slow starvation, and his body shall be
burned to ashes. There is no mercy in the heart
of Little Horse.”

There was much of the Indian spirit about
the little girl Inez. No tears fellfrom her eyes,
no word of complaint escaped her lips; she
seemed indifferent as to her fate, yet she ap-

eared to understand more fully than even

enry himself how dreadful was the situation.

“ I do not know what they intend to do with
us," said the captive boy; “ perha not any
thing more than to kee us here as s eves. You
are a mighty brave ittle girl, Inez, or you
would be crying your eyes out.”

Inez was silent. , ,

“I wish I were half as brave,” went on
Henry, “ but it don’t a pear to be 3 art of my
nature. There is nothl like not owing the

 

5/

 

white feather. There is no denying the fact
that we are in a very bad fix, but if we keep
11 slpirits and don’tlget discouraged, more than
li e y everything w' l come out all right.’.’

There was a rattle at the door at this mo-
ment, and presently an Indian woman, a dread-
fully wrin led old hag, came into the room and
oflered Inez some food. The little girl could
not partake of it because {her hands were tied
behind her, but the bag remedied this, and the
child began to eat.

“ Boy captive don’t get any,“ growled the
old vixen: “he good—for—nothin , he starve.
Make fat little squaw, then kill. ' ow like?’

“I don’t like it much,” replied Henry, “ I’d
rather be murdered at once than to slowly
starve to death. Why, the most unpleasant
sensation of the human body is hunger; didn’t
you know that, old woman?"

The squaw did not reply. Presently she left
the mom.

During the greater part of that day there
was a constant stream of sw arthy visitors to
the rude jail of the village, all curious to see the
prisoners.

Finally the chief, Little Horse, gave orders
that the jail door should be closed and no more
sightseeing be allowed.

Then he placed a double guard around the
jail, with instructions not to permit any inter—
ference with the captives by any one or from
any quarter.

“ o-morrow the pale-face girl shall die,” he
explained to his warriors; “until then let her
not be disturbed."

It was no doubt the purpose of the Indian
chief to make the death of the girl captive as
tragic as possible, and to surround the event
with horrors unspeakable.

The jail was very dark inside, so dark that
the prisoners could scarcely see each other‘s
faces. Both were still securely bound, the only
diflerence in this being that Henry was bound
hand and foot, while the little girl‘s hands were
free. This fact was not known to the chief,
and wasin truth a mistake of the Indian wo-
man who had brought the captive girl some
food a few hours previous. Having freed her
hands so that she could partake of the food she
had neglected to replace the cords with which
they had been bound, and this had not been dis-
covered hy the chief or any of his band.

“ Are you suffering any pain?” asked Henry
of the little girl, late that afternoon.

“ Not very muc‘i,” she replied. “Do you
know what they are going to do with us?"

“ No; do you?”

(5 Yes."

“ What?”

“ They are going to starve you to'death. Yes,
sir, that’s a fact.”

“How very nice,” said Henry sarcastically.
“They won't have long to wait in my case: I’m
mighty near dead by starvation no W. What
are they going to do with you ?”

“ I don’t know,” slowly said the girl; “ they
wouldn’t dare starve me to death1 for my
father is the robber chief, Black Humphrey,
and who is there that is not afraid of him? Oh,
no; there is no fear of them killin me.” ' .

Henry was silent. Thelittle ir was evident-
ly unconscious of her peril; an he did not care
to undeceive her. It were better, perhaps. he
thought, that she did not know of the horrible
fate which he believed was in store for her.

“So you think the red-skins will soon take
you home?” he finally said. '

“I guess they will,” she replied; “ or else my
father will come after me. I wish he would
hurry along. How my feet achel The ,ugly
brutes had no need of tying them so tight."
“And are your hands not also tied?” asked
Henr . '
“ lie—not now,” replied the girl.

“ Then why not help me?” asked the boy.

“ How?” .

“Untie my hands; you can do lt-——I know
you can. Come, Inez. come!"

He rolled over so that she could reach him
without difficulty, and at once she began io
work at the cords with which his hands were
bound. It was a difficult task she had under-
taken, but she accomplished it at last, and said
joyfully:

“ I knew I could do it, but I’ll tell you what,,
it was a mighty;th job. I wouldn't like to
tr it again. ow that year hands are free,
w at are you going to do?’

“ Wait and you shall see ” he replied quickly.
“I‘m going to get out of this, if I can."

“ Not run away?”

“Yes.”

" And won’t you take me with you i" '

“Yes—yes; only keep awful quiet and do

 

  

‘ savages, the latter were read

10

 

The Border Rovers.

 

 ”as I tell you. First let me liberate my
ee .

He was not long in removing the cords from
his feet. .

Then he performed the same work for the
feet of his companion.

“ So much, so good,” he said.
next move.”

He was without a weapon of any kind, and
he knew full well that the jail was being closely
guarded by two or more stalwart savages.

‘herefore, did it seem probable that he could in
any way effect an escape?

The more he thought of it the more convinced
he was that escape was impossible.

Were not the jail so closely guarded there might
be some chance of escape, he thought, but with a
stalwart sentinel at every turn and ever red-
skin in the village alert and watchfu , the
iyoung captives were certainly in a state of utter

elplessness.

“ We are absolutely without hope.” at length
said the boy; “ escape by our efforts is out of
the question. The situation is indeed terrible.”

The day passed. That night additional
guards were placed around the jail. At mid-
night the village, with its fifty warriors, was in
comparative repose. Only the jail uords, and
a sentinel on either side of the v1 lage, were
awake and moving about. Even the oung
captiVes had fallen asleep. The barking of
dogs alone broke the silence.

t was at this time that Black Humphrey and
his men came in si ht of the sleeping village.

They approache it quietly.

“ Give no quarter,” was the command of the
robber chief. ,

A few yards nearer the village and the In—
dian sentinels would see them and give the

alarm.

Black Humphre commanded a halt. Not
daring to speak end, he gave his orders in
whispered tones.

“Spare not a single life; let not a red-skin
escape. No matter how you kill, but kill! No
quarter. Blood for blood. Serve all alike,
men, women and children; murder them in
cold blood. Are you ready? Then, come on.”

Boldly they dashed into the village, but be-
fore they could reach the wigwams of the
to receive them,
having been aroused b the ring of the senti-
nels, who were first feel the terrible and
dead] onslaught of the robber band.

An now began a hand—to-hand conflict the
like of which none on either side had ever
known before. It was a life-and-death strug-

"Now for the

I file, the very contemplation of which, with its

:

  

rains and blood, its mutilation of corpses, its
cries of a ony and groans of anguish, its horrors
in lgenera , is sickening.
eanwhile the young captives remained in
jail. Both had fallen asleep shortly before
midnight, but, at the first about of battle, they
sprung up and breathlessly listened to what
seemed to them a perfect pandemonium of
sounds.

It did not take Henry long to comprehend
the nature of the conflict.

“The friends of Inez are here.” he said,
simply. “ In my opinion it is a case of dog cat
dog, but for the time being my sympathies are
with the outlaws.” .

For a while a fierce fight was kept up in the
vicinity of the jail. but there were times when

..the conflict raged hottest in other places, and it

was during one of these periods that Henry re-
solved to make a daring effort to escape, let the
results be what they might.

So he made a vigorous effort to break down

‘the door, and, after repeated trials, succeeded;
r . the door gave wa

with a. crash, and the brave

boy captive, holdin lnez firmly by the hand,
escaped into the dar ness, and by moving uiet—
ly and stealthin over the ground reache the
outskirts of the village unobserved.

“ Thank Heaven for this!” exclaimed Henry,
fervently; “we are once more free and now,
sooner then be taken captive again, I will die in
myltracks."

ardly had he said this when a strange
figure sprung out from behind a rock and con-
fronted them.

Itiwas t, a mysterious horseman!

.“ Back, ackl" cried Henry, as the stranger

,madea movement as if to take Inez in his arms.
“ What are you doing here?"
There was no reply, but raising a stout stick

I which he carried in his hand, the stran e in-

truder struck Henry a blow over the b that
felled him to the ound; then, takin the girl
in his arms, be me ed away to where is horse

, was standing. mounted the restless animal in a

twinkling and galloped away like the wind.

 

The blow from the heavy» stick of the stran-
ger had rendered Henry unconscious, but this
lasted only a moment; his senses returned pres-
ently, and, regaining his feet, he Jooked Wild]
around him. He could see the lights in the vi -
lage, where the battle still raged; could hear a
terrible din which was like pandemonium itself;
could see figures of men and horses moving
quickly about in the light of burning wigwams,
but near him, within his immediate circle, there
was no one to be seen. He was entirely alone;
and nearly a mile away going like the wind.
was the brave little girl, Inez, in the clutches of
that strange prairie ranger, the mysterious
horseman.

 

CHAPTER XI.
AN EVENTFUL STRUGGLE.

HENRY was not one of the kind to despair, no
matter how trying the circumstances.

He had never known what it was to be tho-
rou hly beaten.

Ngbw that he was no longer in the hands of
either the Indians or the outlaws, and even
though his situation was still perilous, he had
heart to believe that he could not only take care
of himself but help Frank as well, if the latter
were still living.

“ If I only knew where to find him," he said.
“ I don’t even know that he is alive, and if
alive, how shall I be able to communicate with
him? Suppose the outlaws are victorious in
this fight, what good would that do me? If in
their company, as Frank probably is, I would
still he a captive. No, I must not again let
them take me, for, as between the robbers and
the Indians there is little choice. I scarcely
know what to do.”

He looked in the direction of the Indian vil-
lage. There was still occasional firing, but
practically the, battle was at an end. enry
was not sure which party had come out victo-
rious, but the indications were that the outlaw
band had been put to flight.

He thought it might be well to investigate
this point at once, so he crept up to within a
few yards of the nearest wi wam and quietly
looked over the gory battle— eld.

Then he knew that the outlaws had fled, and
also that the dusky enemy—>how great the force
he could not tell—was in pursuit.

Near] every Wigwam in the village was on
fire, andy around these blazing fires were women
and children, some wild with terror, others
grief-stricken and almost paralyzed through
fear, and all weeping and wailing and tearing
their hair, the whole a picture of awful despair.

There were evidently many dead d ing and
wounded scattered over the field ut these
Henry could not see, and his good sense told
him that it would not be safe for him to investi-
gate closer.

So, after satisfying his curiosity, and learning
all he could of the battle and its results, he re-
treated as rapidly as his feet would carry him
to a safe distance from the village, where be
halted and began to consider what he should
do next.

It was now within an hour of daylight, but
darker, perhaps, than at any time during the
hi ht.

- ow would be the time for the boy to hasten
away from the scene of blood.

It would be dangerous for him to remain in
the vicinity of the village after daylight, par-
ticularly as he had neither rifle, pistol or other
wea n with which to defend himself in case of
trou e.

This was really the worst feature of the
whole business.

But where was the remedy? .

An idea struck him.

Why could he not return to the battle-field
and secure a weapon from some of the dead,
either whites or red-skins?” ,

He thought it ovar rapidly, and came to a
conclusion at once.

He would return to the field of carnage with-
out delay.

At once he started, walking rapidly, but
quietly. ,

He could not tell exactly where to go, but
thought the battle had raged fiercest near the
jail, or hut, in which Inez and himself had been
confined, so be bent his steps in that direction.

The Indian women and children were still
lamenting the loss of their kindred. There
were only a few old and crippled warriors
present. The wounded were being cared for
at e wi warn some distance from the jail.

Quiet y Henry moved over the ground. He
was now within a stone’s throw of the as-
sembled crowd of moaning, howling, walling
savages. ,

 

He began to feel that he was placing himself
in a perilous situation. -

He crouched low on the ground and moved
fin, Sharply eying every dark object near at

a

n . .

“ The red—skins have taken care of their dead,
I guess,” he finally muttered, “and as for the
outlaws—well, I don’t know that an of them

were killed. Their bodies are not Visible, an 37- ‘

hovv.”

He concluded not to continue the search
further but to retrace his steps as soon as s-
sible, and was on the point of doing this w en
his eye caught sight of a human figure stretched
out upon the ground.

He approached it quickly, and, bending over
it, saw that it was the lifeless form of a white
man, undoubtedly one of the outlaws.

The man had been tomahawked and scalped,
but had not been relieved of his weapons, which
were beside him on the ground and in his belt.
The boy was not long in securing the dead rob-
ber’s arms, alsoa quantity of ammunition, after
which he beat a swift but noiseless retreat.

“ I feel better now," he muttered, as. he
reached a safe distance away from the bowling,
savage mob; “ not that I am afraid of that
dusky crowd,” he continued, meaning the red—
skins, “ butI feel better and safer now that I
am well armed. The devil take the country
and all its inhabitants anyhow.”

He shouldered his rifle and started off in the
direction of what seemed to him a massive
ledge of rocks a short distance away.

Mean while a bloody scene was beng enacted
some five miles’ distance from the Indian vil-

la 9. v

The battle of the night had resulted almost
disastroust to the outlaw band, more than half
their number having been killed. The red-
skins had also lost heavily. The end was that
the former were defeated, and were forced to
seek safety in flight.

Then ensued a running-fight, which lasted
until near morning, when the vanquished out-
laws came to a stand on the banks of a runnin
stream, and in the center of a collection 0
huge bowlders, which seemed to have been pur-
posely laced there for their protection.

The wlders stood close together and so
formed a rude fortress, which, if well defended
by the robbers, could not be taken by double
the number of savages which threatened to as
sail it.

The original number of the outlaw band,
when it started out to attack the village of
Little Horse, was twenty, including the robber
chief and the captive boy Frank. t now num-
bered six persons, all told, the chief and Frank
included, although the former was not in good
fighting trim, havin received a bad scalp
wound, while engage in a hand to—hand con-
flict with the Indian chief, Little Horse. The
latter had finally been overpowered and killed.

As for Frank, he had managed somehow to
escape injury, although he had mingled in the
fight as freely as an of them, and had done his
share of the work 0? battle.

“It is not for the robbers that I risk my life,”
he said to himself, “ but for Henry, who, if the
savages are not beaten, will no doubt be mur-
dere in cold blood. How terrible is the
thought!”

When the outlaws were compelled to run,
Frank went with them, and now we find him a
central figure of the remnant of the robber
ban , which, defeated and almost overpowered
by he red-skins, has taken refuge in a rude
fortress of rocks half a score of miles away
from the first battle-ground.

“Here shall the fight end,” said the robber
chief; “it is life or death vn'th us now. Let
every man sell his life as dearly as possible."

There were in all about thirty savages op-
posled to the handful of whites among the
roc s.

The red—skins seemed to feel their superior
strength, and were therefore very bold in their
demonstrations.

Still they appeared to realize the fact that it
would not be perfectly safe to get within range
of the rifles of the concealed enemy, although
several did thus venture and came near losing
their lives thereby.

It was daylight when the robber band entered
the rocky fortress, and now every movement of
the savages could be distinctly seen.

“What are they waiting for? Why don’t
they attack us?” questioned Frank, whose
knowledge of Indian warfare was extremely
limited.

“If you’d talk less and shoot more it would
be better for on,” replied the robber chief
savagely. " I ou’t see why you couldn’t have

..___ .....i ..-._a-_..

 

 

 

 

‘ The Border Rovers.

11

 

been killed last night in place of any one of my
own brave men. Curse the luck!’7

At this moment, a red-skin, more daring than
the rest, gave a loud whoo and circled up
to within a blindred yards 0 the rocks behind
which the whites were concealed.

Instantly Frank, who had just sighted his
rifle that way, took quick aim at the daring
rider and fired.

The redrskin quickly threw up his hands,
reeled .a moment in his saddle, then fell heavily
to the ground.

“Not dead, but badly wounded,” muttered
the robber chief, as, after the lapse of several
seconds, he observed the fallen savage half rise
to his feet and bobble away.

“A pretty good shot, though," remarked an-
other of the outlaws. “The ofteuer he does
that the better, in my opinion.”

Black Humphrey grunted.

“Better that than not at all,” he said. “I
wish every one of the red devils could be served
in like manner. Just listen to the bloody fiends
howli”

The wounding of one of their number served
to enrage the savage crowd beyond measure,
and for a few minutes it seemed as though an-
other desperate battle was imminent.

But- the demonstrations, so far as made, were
harmless, and the sudden wrath of the savages
soon subsided.

Then Frank, turning to the robber chief,
broached the subject which was uppermost in
his mind. ,

“ What have become of the two captives,
Henry and Inez i” he said.

Black Hum phrey’s dark face looked grave
and sad.

“ I do not know,” he replied: “ both may be
dead, or both living—I do not know. There is
little value to a life that is at the mercy of the
red—skins.”

Neither Frank or the robber chief knew that
at that moment Henry was his own master,
and that Inez was a captive in the hands of a
creature worse than even the red-skins them-
themselves.

 

CHAPTER XII.
A FIENDIsu PROPOSITION.

THERE was a belief among the robbers that
the red—skins would not attack them that day,
because so many of them had already been
killed. and an open attack in the daytime
would certainly result in the death of several
more of the dusky band.

"Perhaps they intend to starve us out,” sug-
gested one of the robbers.

“Ithink not,” replied the robber chief; “as
soon as it becomes dark they’ll not be so afraid
to show themselves. The red beggars have had
enough of open warfare, and now they propose
to do their work on the sneak order.”

“ It’s mighty bad medicine, I say,” was the
observation of a bearded outlaw to whom the
chief had addressed his remark.

“ So say I,” returned the latter. “ But what
are we going to do about it?”

“ Can t we bring on a fight someway?"

N How i”

“ Make a sudden break of some kind. It don’t
matter how it is done, so that we get up a fight.
One thing is certain, we’ll stand a small show
for our lives after dark. The cunning brutes
know that the darkness is their best friend in a.
fight like this. Let’s make a movement as if to
esca e.”

“ greed; but how shall we go at it? The
red devrls have us completely surrounded.
,Look in any direction and you will see a lot of

em watching us like hawks.“

It was even so. The red—skins had dismounted
fromtheir horses, and had scattered themselves
out in little. knots, forming a complete circle
around the intrenchment of the outlaws; and
here they lounged, not seeming to care what
the whites were about, but still keeping a close
watch of them to see that they did not attempt
to get away.

On three sides of the collection of rocks
amon which the robbers were concealed, was
a love prairie, not truss-grown, but sandy, and
on the other si-le “'ns 21 swift—running stream of
perhaps fifty yards in width, without bushes or
trees on either bank.

The red-skins h..d thought at first not to cross
this stream to guard the movements of the out-
laws from that side, but later in the day several
of them crossed over and stationed themselves
where they could view the rocky retreat of the
robbers distinctly.

It was because of these careful preparations
on the part of the savages that the outlaws be-
came satisfied that no attack would be made

 

that day; so it was that a majority of the band
thought it best to provoke a fight at once.

It was decided to make a movement as if_ to
cross the stream, and so get up a. commotion
among the red-skins on both sides, and during
the excitement thus created, pick as many of
them off as possible, the idea being to revoke
a general fight, and so decide the con let, one
way or the other, before dark.

So one of the outlaws, gun in hand, began to
move slowly toward the stream.

At once the savages caught sight of him,
find a spirit of hostility was manifested imme-

iately.

The outlaw halted a moment and lay flat up—
on the ground. .

The red-skins began to shout and yell demo-
niacally.

“ Now watch ’em,” said the robber chief,
“and don’t miss a shot for the world. Come,
another of you get out where the brutes can
see ye. ”

Another of the robber hand began to move in
the direction taken by his companion, as a
result of which the red-skins became still more
furious.

Presently they began to use their rifles, but
the range was so great that each and every
shot fell wide of its mark.

Still another of the outlaws began to move in
the direction of the stream.

This had the desired effect. The ‘savages,
fearing a general exit of the robbers, with
screams and shouts and fierce battle-cries
dashed down upon them, using their rifles at
close range, and closing in upon the robber
band from every quarter.

The fight was a terrible and blood one. It
was of short duration, as all hand-to-lzand con-
flicts must be, but the time was long enough to
enable both sides to spill the blood of several of
the combatants. "

The red-skins were finally obliged to with-
draw, hnving sustained a loss of five killed and
two wounde .

he loss to the robber band was one man
killed.

“Not a bad exchange, anyhow,” remarked
the robber chief, complacently viewing the
body of his dead follower. “ Now I look for a
compromise of some. kind from the savages."

The outlaw chief believed that the red-skins,
now that more than half their number were
dead, would cease their hostilities and return to
their village, where they had left unprotected
their women and children.

But the red-skins were seemingly not so dis-
posed. _

They still kept up a careful guard of the out-
laws, apparent y ready at a. moment’s notice to
renew the fight.

Black Humphrey was at a loss 'to know what
to think of the unnatural obstinacy 'of the
enemy.

“ They are like so many wild beasts,” he said,
'at len th; “bloodthirsty, cruel and treacher-
ous. wonder what next they intend to do.”

“The night will tell,” answered one of the
robbers. “ Very liker every one of us will be
dead before morning.”

“Can’t help it if we are," growled the chief.
“Suppose we get up another big fight at once.
We may as well die now as any other time.”

The proposition was not an agreeable one to a
majority of the outlaws and so was voted
down.

“ I have a scheme,” at length said one'of the
men to the robber chief, “a scheme that I think
will work.”

“ What is it?”

He whispered something to the outlaw chief
which none of the rest could hear, and then the
two men cast suspicious glances at Frank, show-
ing thereby that their whispered conversation
had been of him.

There was more talk between these two men,
carried on in a low tone, and then the outlaw
chief said aloud:

“ Perhaps the young fellow will not agree to
it; he isn’t a. darn fool, b along shot.”

“Hush, hush!” said t 9. other man; “don’t
speak so loud. I’ll look after the kid if you’ll
see that the Indians are agreeable to the propo—
sition. What do you think of 'it yourself.”

“A fine scheme, if it will work, ’replied Black
Humphrey. “ But we may as well tell the rest
of the boys.”

“Just as you think best,” observed the out-
law. ‘,‘ Say, fellows-l"

There was general attention at once.

Frank, in particular, seemed interested in
what was going on.

The boy was becoming very suspicious of the
outlaws.

 

“ Stay where you are, kid 3” growled the chief,
as Frank made a movementas if to join the rest
in consultation. “ You will know enough about
this business after a while.”

Frank crouched low upon the ground, keep—
ing his eyes in the direction of the main body of
the savages, but at the same time listening
closely to_the half-whispered conversation of the
outlaws.

“ The scheme is this,” remarked the robber
chief quietly; “ the red-skins will not be satis-
fied until they have taken one of us alive-they

are bound to take a prisoner, so that they may '

torture him by fire and in other ways. Now, is
there a man among you who will consent to
make a sacrifice of himself in that way?”

There was a chorus of negatives, following
which the robber chief continued:  .

“ The bargain must be made soon; somebody
must go. Whom shall it be ?”

All eyes were turned on Frank in an in-
stant.

“You are right,” said the chief; “better use
cannot be made of this young scalawag than to
turn him over to the redskins. What is his
life to us? Nothing—absolutely nothing. The
only question is, will the savages givo us any-
thing for him—will they be satisfied, and no
longer trouble us? What say you, men, what
say you i" » _

t V 'as the general opinion that a compromise
of this kind could be made with the red—skins,
and it was therefore decided to make the effort
at once, and if an agreement could be reached,
the boy should be turned over to the savages
immediately.

Frank listened quietly to all that was said,
and his feelings can better be imagined than
described. ‘3

For a moment he felt like turning his rifle on
his worse than fiendish companions and making
one of them bite the dust, at least, even if he
himself should die for it the next moment.

“ So I am to be the victim, am 1?” he said, as
the consultation came to an end. “ T’Vhat a lot
of human devils you are!"

There was no reply from any of the outlaws.
They knew that the boy spoke the truth. '

One of the robbers, who could speak the In-
dian tongue, thrust his head up above the rocks
and shouted to the savages at the top of his
vorce.

They heard him, but could not understand his

words; so one of them approached a little

nearer the rocks, and a conversation was car-

ried on between the two with apparent ease.
Finally the red-skin re'oined his comrades,

while the outlaw, who he been doing the talk»

ing for the robber crowd, gave in substance the‘

conversation that had passed between them.

“Then the pnfiosition suits them, does it?”
questioned Black umphrey.

“ Yes, so it seems,” was t e reply.

“And they will agree to take the prisonér
and leave us for good—is that the understand—

ing?’
‘ Exactly.”
,It is one thing to make a contract, and anoth-
er thing to carry it out.

And this the robbers discovered when they
undertook to deliver Frank to the Indians.

The boy positively refused to go unassisted,
and as none of the outlaws cared to accompany
him, negotiations were at a stand-still for some
while. '

Finally it was a reed between the outlaws on
the one side, and t e red~skins on the other, that
two of each contending force should go half—
way, and thus consummatethe bargain without
fear of treachery from either side.

So, all arrangements having been made, the
boy, despite his struggles, was given into the
clutches of the robber gang, who, havin first
relieved him of his weapons and pounde 'him
over the head so that he was nearly unconscious,
started with him in the direction of the main
body of the savages.

And two of the letter at once started out to
my theivn' k 1 d d

gain ran strugg e esperatel and in
he was brutally beaten over the  age

“Heaven save me!" he cried. “ Save me!
save me!"

“ The red skins screamed and shouted: the .

outlaws cursed and swore; there was a fever of
excitement all around.

Presently there was a suspicious movement;
among the savages. as if they could not control
themselves and were about to break their con:
tract by precipitatinga fight with the outlaws.

The latter, detecting the movement,demanded
in fierce tones that the chief of the red—skins
should control his braves. , ‘

But the latter were now perfectly furious

/

 

  

“madman... .-

 

The Border Rovers.

 

12

with excitement. Suddenly, with fierce yells
and savage exclamations they rushed on to the
attack, shooting down the two robber guards
.andksending a volley of rifle—shots among the
rm 8.

_At the first fire the two outlaws in company
With Frank fell, and the latter also dropped to
the ground.

I

 

CHAPTER XIII.
numer Josrxcn.

So sudden and unexpected was ’the attack
that the whites were absolutely unable to defend
themselves.

For Once in his life Black Humphrey lost con-
trol of himself; he did not know what to do; he
was like a man who had lost his reason.

One of the outlaws among the rocks was killed
.at the first fire, so only the robber chief and one
other were left.

The first and only thing that either of them
:thought of was flight.

With a yell of defiance they started off, a
whooping, shouting, screaming pack of savages
close in pursuit. ‘

There was not a red-skin among them all
who would not have iven his life rather than
have the robber chie escape death or capture;
so the pursuit was carried on with n vigor and
earnestness which indicated a bloody ending.

Soon the field was cleared of living combat~
ants. either white or red.

Then it was that the unfortunate, and still
lucky boy, Frank, began to show signs oflife, to
s ‘/ h an extent. in fact, that he rose to a sitting
posture and looked around him.

H sf face was covered with blood, and his

’ clothes were badly torn; he looked the picture

of despair.

“ I‘m not so badly off as some of them ” he
muttered, as be surveyed the field before him,
and saw the bloody corpses of the two outlaws
srretched out upon the round not a dozen feet
apart. “I got a terrib 6 crack over the head,
though; in fact, I’m ’hcut as near dead as a fel-

:’ low can well be and live."

He rose to his feet, still holding his head with
'hishands.

“I dropped at the first fire,” ho went'on,
“and I reckon the savages thought they had
finished me, too,‘ but they hadn’t, by a long
shot. I played the game pretty fine, and so
saved my life. "
bloody head, the rascals. I hope the red-skins
will on tore the brutes, and burn ’em alive."

The oy was not badly injured although he
had been dealt with severely by the robbers.

Anyway, he was no longer a captive, and, as
for his injuries, he woul soon recover from

. them; all he cared for now was to place him-

self as for distant from the present scene of
blood as he could in the absence of the red~
skins some of whom would certainly return
shortly to scalp the enemy, and see that their
own dead was cared for. a

“First I must get a weapon of some kind,"
said the boy, hurriedly scanning the bloody
battle-ground.

But nothingrof the kind was visible, not even
so much as a uife or hatchet.

Failing in this, he thought to appropriate one
of the several horses belonging to the savages,

’ but although the animals seemed docile enough,

grazing on the prairie a few yards awa , the

refused to be caught. y y
80 the young man. fearing to remain long in

that vicinity, concluded to leave at once, w ich

' , ‘he did, taking the river as his guide, and going

' )in an opposite direction from t

at taken by the
outlaws and their ursuers.

There was very ittle timber alon the stream
at that point, but further down here was a
'better showing of trees and vines and under-
brush, among which there were many good
hiding places where a person might take refuge
without great fear of discover .

Rapidl the fugitive boy hurried over the
ground, coping close to the river bank, and
every second looking back of him to see if he

. werenot being pursued.

Final] , to better cover up his tracks, he
swam t e stream, and continued his flight on
the other side.

One thing was in his favor now—4t was
rapidly growing dark ~ the sun had gone down
shortly after he had left the battlefield, and
now the light of day had almost wholly disap-

Stili the tired boy continued his rnpld flight.
He was determined to get beyond reach of the
redakins if possible. . ’

Once he stopped a. moment to bathe his head

The outlaws gave me this '

 

and face in the cool water of the creek which
ran hard 

His hea was still bloody and sore, and his
face was covered with bruises.

“Never mind,” he said to himself; “these
wounds are very slight; I’ll soon get over them.
Anyhow, it’s a mighty sight better than being
dead. I wonder what time 0’ night it is. ”

He looked at the sky. There was no moon.
The stars shone feebly.

“It’s not midnight ]yet,” he said; “but that
makes no difference; ’11 not take any chances
op beipg captured by halting here; I’ll hurry
a ong.’

He went on ru‘pidly, up hill and down valley,
over stretches o sandy plain, through tangled
vines and thick under-brush, among rocks and
trees, all the while following the stream which
was leading him he knew not Whither.

Finally, when fired almost to falling, he halt—
cd near a large, flat rock that jutted out over
the sdtream, and seating himself, began to muse
alou .

“ I'm awful hungry,” he said, “ and so
wretchedly tired that feel like giving up the
ghost. I wonder what has become of Henry.
Perhaps he is dead; I rather think so, I don’t
know why. And the little girl, Inez, where is
she? No doubt she too is dead. How terrible
the thoughtl As for her father, the robber chief,
there is no doubt that the savages have taken
his life long before this. In fact, there is scarce-
]y an outlaw left—nearly the whole band has
suffered death. There is still another person
whose whereabout I’d like to know——the mys—
terious horseman; he has not been seen lately.
and has perhaps taken flight for good. Heavens!
how tired and sleepy I am. But I don’t dare go

to sleep here—no, no; not for the world, not for ,

the world.”

He rattled on in this way for some while, re—
clining his head upon the rock, so that he could
rest himself the better, and, as he lay there
talking to himself, there came over him a weari-
ness so profound that he gradually gave up to
it, his eyes closed slowly, sud soon he was sound—
ly asleep.

Meanwhile the night were on.

The boy slept soundly. There were no sounds
to disturb him. A. strange silence seemed to
have fallen over mountain, wood and stream.

Hours passed. Finally light began to break

in the east, then it was mornin ,‘ with the sun],

just comin up from behind the ills.

Still the 0v slept on.

Then, for the first time in several hours, the
stillness was broken. not by the sound of human
voices, but by the dip of cars out in the stream
and the cutting of a canoe through the water.

The stranger, whoever he was, seemed uncon-
scious of the presence of the sleeping boy. The
boat was in t a middle of the stream and mov~
ing slowly. The boatman was keepin close
watch of either shore. A rifle lay within-easy
reach of him in the boat.

He rowed'along quietly, but when alongside
of the jutting rock upon which Frank lay asleep,
he dropped the cars suddenly and reached for
his rifle. Then be half rose to his feet, and a
savage light came into his eyes.

“A cunnqu rascal,” he whispered; “I have
a mind to kil him on the spot; wonder what he
is doing here? How my head whirls! Oceans
of blood swim before my eyes." '

The, stronger ran his boat aground, then,

uietly stepping ashore, stealthily approached
t e sleeping boy.

The latter heard nothing; he was still sleeping
soundly.

“ He is in my power,” muttered the stranger,
“and I might murder him in a second’s time,
but I do not care to do it; I have something
worse in store for him. Wake up, boy.”

Frank heard the savage voice of the stranger,
and he was awake in an instant.

“Great Heavens!" he exclaimed the moment
his eyes opened and he saw who was bending
over him; “the mysterious horseman l"

“ I’ve been looking for you a long while,”

oke the frightful shadow of a man whom

rank recognized as the mysterious prairie
ranger. “ Where have you been? and tell me,
where are you oing’l I have been looking for
you a long whi e, I say.”

The mysterious stranger was hideous in ap-
pearance; looked starved and carcwo’rn; black,
straggling whiskers; matted hair falling over
his face: gleamin . black eyes; attenuated
frame; almost lies less bones, and garments
torn so that they were little more than rags.

“ So you have been looking for me, havs you?”
said Frank, with a feelin of dread creeping
over him. “Well, this isn t the first time I’ve
seen you. Who are you?”

x

 

“Who am I?” returned the man; “what is
that to you? Better tell me first who you are.
Como, your name.”

Frank gave him the desired information, and
again the stranger spoke. -

“ Where have you been?” he asked.

“A short distance up the stream,” was the

repl .
“ With whom 3"

“The Indians.”

The man glanced along the shore, and handled
his rifle nervously.

“ The Indians?” he repeated. “ Where?"

“I escaped from them,” said Frank; “they
were going to kill me.”

The stranger laughed a wild, maniacal, hide-
ous] unnatural laugh.

“ c you are afraid of the red—skins, are you?"
he said; “and I suppose you are not afraid of
me?”

“Why should I be?” said Frank. “ I am
mighty sure no harm will come to me from
you. Come, haven't you a home somewhere
near? and won’t you take me to it, and give me
something to eat. I tell you, sir, I’m awful
hungry.”

The stranger looked pleased. ‘

“I’ll let you live a little while longer," be
said, “perhaps a day or two. But l’m going to
kill the little girl to-night, and feast upon her
flesh.”

“ The little girl?"

“Yes, the little girl. I have her safe among
the rocks. Let’s go to her at once. Come.”

Frank saw at once that the man was crazy.
But what did he mean when he spoke of the
little girl? Was it Inez to WhOm he had refer-
ence? And then the declaration that he would
kill her that night and feast upon her flesh was
horrible. He determined to learn more of the
doings of this strange creature.

“I will go with you,” he said, rising to his
feet. “ Come, lead the way.”

The maniac pointed to the boat, and signaled
Frank to get in, which he did, followed by the
madman.

The latter then seized the oars, and rowed
swiftly down the stream.

Frank watched him closely, fearing treachery;
he also noted the boat, which, he thought, he had
seen before. In fact, he was almost certain that
the boat belonged to the unknown gold~seeker.
at whose cabin Henry and himself had remained
a week or two some time previous.

The maniac worked the oars rapidly, and the
boat fairly danced over the water.

Presently he gave the boat a turn which ran
it ashore, then he signaled Frank to get out,
which being done, he also sprung out.

Then the two walked up a steep hill, and
down a ravine, where. at the base of a ledge of
rocks, was a, hollow place, or excavation, of no
small dimensions.

Into this place Frank was almost savagely
pushed by the maniac.

And that which first met his gaze was a half-
starved little creature, the very picture of
wretchedness, misery, and fear, hound hand
and foot, and lying upon the ground in utter
helplessness.

It was the little girl Inez.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
TAKEN onrrrvn BY A MANIAO.

THE madman laughed fiendishly as he sur‘
veyed the almost furnished child.

“ I told you I had her,” he said, “and tonight
I am going to kill her; I’ll split her head open
with a hatchet.”

“Why not let her rest a whilel—she will be
dead before night, I fear,” said Frank. “ Loosen
her from the rock.”

The maniac scowled.

“ "What do you know of my affairs?” he
snarled. “ You have not much longer to live
than the girl. Get down upon your knees he-
forc I shoot you dead.”

He leveled his rifle straight at the heart of the
boy, and there was a gleam of murder in his
eyes.

“ Down upon your knees, I say!” be repeated.

Frank hesitated not a moment; he knew that
his life depended on quick obedience to the
wishes of t e maniac.

“ What next?” he asked, quietly.

“ Nothing, onlyotay where you are,” re lied
the madman. “I’ll get some cords and ind
you head and foot. 'ust as I have the girl. But
the cords—what di I do with the cords? Don’t
dare to move, voung man. or I’ll kill you as I
would a dog. Do ye hear?"

Frank had been watching his opportunity all
along to seize and overpower themadnlan, but

 

 

 

 

 

.i' A N... NW... A. ...__

the latter had been too watchful for him until
now when, turnin his eyes a moment, the boy
saw is chance, an with the bound of a panther
sprung upon him. ‘ '

Then occurred a desperate struggle, in which
the two combatants rol ed oyer on the. ground,
shrieking and yelling, striking and biting, each
trying in every possible way to get the advan-
t e of the other, even unto death itself.

. t was not an unequal contest, the boy being
quite as powerful as the man, although the latter
was more agile and alert, and so managed dur-
ing the struggle to throw his antagonist on his
back, where he held him firmly, despite his
struggles to get away.

Frank was now thoroughl alarmed. He was
confident the madman wo d not let him live
another minute. Evidently the latter contem-
plated murder, for, seizing a. large stone of
several pounds in weight, he puised it above his
head, intending the next moment to bring it
d0wn with deadly force upon the head of the
captive boy, crushing his skull as though it were
an egg—shell.

But the uplifted stone did not come down.
Some one from behind seized it and wrenched
it from the grasp of the maniac, while, at the
same time, he was dealt a heavy blow on the
head that knocked him senseless to the ground.

Frank sprung to his feet in a moment, and
the person who had saved his life grasped him
warmly by the hand. '

It was lei; rover companion, Henry!

The unexpected reunion of the two boys,
coming at such a time and place, and under
such circumstances, moved both to tears. Each
had mourned the other as dead, and now to be
reunited was like a meeting of the living with
the dead arisen. It was a period of tears, con-
gratulations, joyful surprise and supreme happi-
ness.

“ Si we meet again, and both alive and well,”
said Hem , earnest] . “This is greater happi-
ness than deserve.’

“ You came none too soon,” returned Frank;
“a moment later and this crazy rascal would
have mashed in my head. See, he is coming to.
What shall we do with him!"

“ Bind'him hand and foot,” declared Henry;
“ or else izill him.”

“No, not kill him, Henry; you certainly
have grown bloodthirsty smce you’ve been
gone,” said Frank. “ This man is crazy; let’s
tie him with cords so that he can do no harm.”

“ But the cords, Frank, the cords,” cried
Henry; "‘ where are there any cords?”

Frank Quickly turned to the captive irl,
Inez, and began to loosen the cords with w ich
she was bound. Soon he had them off, and the
girl was free. Then, with the same cords, he
securely ypinioned the hands and feet of the
maniac, feeling safer now that this was done,

Then both boys turned theirattention to Ina.
She had stiflered terribly, and was nearly dead
from exhauston and hunger. She could not
stand alone, and was scarcely able to articu-
Jate, so parched and dry was her tongue, having
been without water for full two days.

“Let’s leave this horrid den at once," said
Henry; “the girl is suffering; she must have
100d and water.”

They prepared to go, and were just on the
point of leaving when the madman recovered
oomcionsness.

But he could do nothing more than rave vehe
mently, and his words were idle and senseless

“ It seems cruel to leave him there bound
hand and foot.” said Frank; “ but what elso
can we do? Wemust look out for our own
We ." .
th'“ lgfight relieve him ofH his was ns and

en lmup, 811 ested enr . ‘ Su 39
we do that.” g‘ y ppo

“All right.” said Frank; “you mama e that

rt of the business, and I’ll carry Inez own to

he stream." .

Frank took the little girl in his arms and car-
ried her down to the creek near where the boat
of the maniac had been left. It was there still,
and the boy took possession of it at once, still
holding the little girl in his arms. '

Presently Henry appeared, and also entered
the boat.

“Did you untie the madmani". asked Frank.

“Yes, was the reply; “that Is,  fixed him
so that he can free himself by working a while.
And here are his was. ons.”

The latter consists of a rifle, a long-bladed
knife and a sharp—edged hatchet.

The main purpose of the boys now was to find
some safe place where they might rest and ob-,
tain food for both were tired and hungry,
while the little girl was nearly famia'hed.

At once they struck out from the shore, and

 

The Border. Rovers.

the boat glided swiftly down the stream, Frank
working the oars.

“Have you any idea. where we are going?”
asked Henry, as the boat danced over the wa-
ter.

“ To some extent I have,” replied Frank.
“ Do you remember the cabin at which we
stopped some days ago—the cabin of an un-
known miner?”

“ Yes, very distinctly.”

" Well, I don’t know for sure, but I think this
stream will bring us there. It may be a long
distance, though, for all I know. Anyway, this
is the stream near which the cabin stood.”

The boys had no fear of the madman now;
even if he should follow them, which he was
more than likely to do, he could do them no
harm, being without weapons of any kind other
than his hands, while the boys were now well
armed.

Frank pulled at the oars steadily for more
than an hour, then Henry relieved him for a
while, and the boat continued to glide swiftly
down the stream.

Meanwhile the boys told each other their re-
spective stories—all that had happened to either
of them since the
ber’s cave, when noz and Henry were carried
off by the braves of Little Horse.

Fol10wing the bloody battle at the Indian vil-
lage, when Henry and Inez made their escape,
and the latter was shortly thereafter taken cap-
tive by the mysterious horseman, Henry had
wandered from place to place, in the mountains
and on the prairies, and ad only by accident,
attracted by the loud cries of rank and the
madman, come upon them in the maniac’s den
in time to save the former from a horrible
death.

Neither of the boys could form an opinion of
the strange creature, whom they had known as
the mysterious horseman, 'other than that he
was a dangerous lunatic. This they could un-
derstand, or rather, this they knew, but there
was much about him that they could not under-
stand, much that was mysterious and unaccount-
a

6.

“ I’d like to know his history, forafact," said
Henry, “ but if he will only keep away from us
in the future, we’ll call the ti'nsaction square.
In other words, if he’ll abandon us, we’ll aban-
don him, and no questions asked.”

Continuing their flight down the stream. they
came at length to a small island covered with
thick timber, the creek being fully a quarter of
a mile wide at this point, and running very
swift.

Standing on this island, with his fore-feet
restin on a rock that jutted out in the stream,
With is head up and neck stretched forward,
was a deer, or mountain antelope.

He seemed to be regarding the boat with
mingled feelings of fear and curiosity, thelatter
predominating.

In an instant Henr raised his rifle, took
quick aim at thebeauti ul creature and fired.

The bullet sped true to its mark. The deer
gave a leap in the air, then fell to the ground in
a death-struggle.

The boys were delighted. Now they would
feast sumptuously.

Immediately they ran the boat ashore, and
all got out, Frank taking the little girl in his
arms.

By this time Henry was standing astride of
the dead animal, and his face was flushed with
excitement.

“ “ Wasn’t that a capital shot?” he cried-

straight through the heart. Now for a g
dinner such as we haven’t had for a week.”

It did not take _him long to dress the deer and
pre re a large piece of the meat for wasting,
an by the time he had done this, Frank had a
fire built between two logs in the very center of
the island, and cut off from observation from
:hxe stream by thickly scattered trees and dense

o iage.

Here the meat was roasted, and here our
young friends appeased their hunger and re-
mained for full two hours resting. '

_The boys did not care to sleep, but the little
girl lay down upon the ground. and with
enry’s coat for a pillow, soon fell into a sound
slumfi‘.

‘ at are we going to do with this r lit-
tle waif?” at length spoke up Frank, glaggilngat
the sleeping girl. ,

“I don’t know,” replied Henry; “ von say
her father is probably dead i” '

“There can be no doubt of it; but she has
other friends living, I think. The robber chief’s
Wife, the Indian woman, mother of the little

lrl, was left at the cave, also several of the out'
aw gang. They must be there still.”

parted company in the rob- '

 

13

“ Then, there is where Inez should be taken,”
declared Henry; “ we have no right to keep
her away from her mother.” . .

“ But how about ourselves—Will it not be
dangerous for either of us to return? and then,
for that matter, how are we to find the place?
Idoubt if I could find it in a thousand years.” .

So there were a number of dificulties 1n the
way of returning Inez to her friends; and the
boys concluded to let the matter rest awhile
and await developments. ‘ .

During the conversation something was said .
of Chung F0, the Chinaman, and Frank ex—
pressed a belief that the robbers had murdered
him in cold blood long since. _

Henry thought difierent, and said that the
Chinaman had no doubt escaped. '

“ He’s a wonderfully sly dog,” said the boy,
“ and as cunning as a fox. He has outWItted
the robbers in some way, depend upon it.” I

The dav was now far advanced, and not Wish-
ing to remain the night on the island, the boys
concluded to continue their journey at once.

So they aroused Inez from her sound sleep,
and the three proceeded to the water.

“ Where is the boat!” asked Henry. '

“ I left it here,” replied Frank, looking at the
sand shore.

“ ut it is not here now,” said Henry. _

True enough, the boat was not there, neither
was it anywhere else in the immediate Vicmity ;,
it was nowhere to be seen; it had strangely dlsv-
ap aredl

at there, in the sand, near where the boat

had been left, was the imprint of a man‘s heavy

boot. ‘ I . _ . . .
This told something} '

CHAPTER XV.
A STRANGE CAPTIVITY. .

“ THE maniac has been here, that is plain,” de-
clared Henry: “ he has left his tracks in the
sand. Look! don’t you see them i"

“ The maniac, or somebody else,” returned
Fraiik;—“ somebody with heavy boots.”

“ Not an Indian, sure,” observed Henry. “In- r
dians wear moccasins." /

“ Perhaps some white man may have been .
prowling around?” 

“ Perhaps so; but not likely. I am more
than satisfied that it is the work of the maniac.
He must have followed us very close, I think.”

“But he could not have followed as steel,”
observed Frank; “ we have traveled very rapid-
ly remember.” .

The boys could not arrive at any definite
conclusion; but one thin was certain, the boat
was gone:so what were ey to do? r

The island was only a slender strip of land}.
and on eitherside the water was swift and deep,
and the distance to the shore either way was:
considerable.

The boys, of course, might be able to swim it,
but how about the little girl?

She was a captive indeed. There was no‘
chance of her escape from the island only by a:
boat, or raft, or in some other way, as yet on"
known to the boys.

A close observation of all parts of the ilhnd
moyletthan wahrtranted this co’nclusioli‘iaa H '

‘ s mig y annoyin w an .
“ but what are we going txgi’dogalgont it!" ry ‘

“I don’t know; stay here, I suppose. There
is half a deer left, anyway.”

“That won’t last long, with such an appetite,
“it‘ll” if”. i. exp...

‘ e,i _newjustwatto ti‘rom:
the outside, just who is watchin us, I
wouldn’t feel so badly about it,” sai Frank.

‘ As itis we may get picked up by the redshina,
or some other enemy, any moment. I am in
favor of leaving this place as‘soon as possible.”

Henry was silent a moment; then said: '5

‘- Wb not build a raft?” in

“ Tha ’s so; why not?” echoed Frank.

The boys thought the scheme a good one, so
beganwork at once, and when darkness set in
that m ht, the raft was well—nigh complete. ‘

“ We ll give it the finishing touches in the
morning,” decided Henry, as they quit work
late that evening. ‘

“ And in the morning—” said Frank.

“ We’ll go down the stream a-flyin ,” inter-
rupted Henry. “ If I am not mista en the
thing will float like a top.”

The young men were quite enthusiastic over
th;:ewhva%nture.f

ey , now ood enough to last them seve-
ral days, '11 used sparingly, and with e. ,‘
raft, floatin .on a strong current, the felt 0011- H
fldent of flu ng civilization of some k nd before ’ -
many hours had flown. ‘

   
 

so they prepared to pass the night on ifh’eisl~ ‘-> ‘

and. y A of leaves was made for Inez, while. ,,

 

  

’

14

 

The Border ‘Rovers.

 

 

 

Frankvand Henry lay near her on the ground,
each with his rifle Within easy grasp.

There was no moon that night, and the sky
was dark with clouds. In the morning the sky
was a quiet blue, with no clouds visible, and the
air was soft and balm . Soon the sun came up,
and then our young riends awoke and greeted
the day with smiles of joy and words of thank-

' fulness.

Breakfast was prepared at once and eaten,
then the fugitives started for the raft, think-
inEto complete it in a few moments, and be off.

own by the water’s edge they halted and
surveyed the rocky slime.

, They had left the ra ft on the stream, in plain
View, securely fastened to a rock; but it was
not there'now; like the boat, it had mysteri-
ously disappeared!

The boys looked for it along the shore the en-
tire extent of the island, but it was nowhere to
be seen. It had either broken its fastenings in
the night and floated away or some one had
been there and stolen it, the latter probably
being the case, as it seemed to the fugitives.

“Just our luck,” exclaimed Henry. “Now
what are we goin to do?”

“I don’t know, ’ answered Frank: “perha s
it is best for us to stay here. But, first of all,
I’d like to know the meaning of this deviltry.
Who is doing it? And why is it being done?
Can it be that the maniac hunter has discovered
our whereabouts and is doing this sneaking
work? I’d like mighty well to catch sight of

, him, and, as I live, I’d shoot him down.”

At this moment, Henry, who was looking up
the stream, gave a warning cry, just above a
whisper, and then dropped to the ground pull-
ing his two companions with him.

“What ails you, Henry?" whispered Frank;
“‘what do you see?”

“ Look! look!” cried out Henry.

Less than a hundred yards‘ distance, on the
right bank of the stream, coming toward them,
were several Indians, 3. dastardly-looking
crowd, hideously painted, and evidently on the
war-path.

Henry did not recognize them, but Frank
did; he had been close y connected with them
on a previous occasion; they were the same
painted wretches from whom he had escaped
during the fight with the outlaws, when left for
dead op the battle—field.

The sav es numbered a full dozen, all stal-
wart rasca 5, some of them more than half
naked, and all well armed with rifles, hatchets,
tomahawks and knives.

“They one looking for me, I know,” said
Frank, “and they’ve followed my trail mighty
close, for a fact!” ,

The re l-skins moved along very quietly, and
when opposite the island, halted, and began to
counsel among themselves.

The boys could see them very plainly, now,
and Henry noted with horror 3. number of
bloody scalps hanging to their belts, and,
among the number, one with long black hair,
which was easy to be recognized as that of the
maniac hunter.

“They haye murdered him, sure,” muttered
the boy; “ murdered him in cold blood.”

“Whom do you mean?” asked Frank; “the

Lookl isn’t that his seal

, robber chief?”

“ No; the maniac.

- hanging to the belt of the leader of the bloo ‘
thirsty crowd?”

“ It is, it is,” answered Frank, who also recog-
nized other scalps, those of several of the out-

' laws, including that of the robber chief. “I

see now what WOuld have been my fate had I
stayed with them!”

he consultation of the savages lasted only a
few seconds, then they continued their prowl-
ing march down the stream.

“The rascals missed us, anyway,” remarked
Henry, “for which I am very thankful, for I
didn’t want, to fall into their hands again. I
hope they’ll not return.”

H‘Like as not they will,” observed Frank;
"can": tell much about these red-skins; they
are a cunning set. One thing, we are rid of
the maniac.”

This brought to mind the fact that somebody
besides the madman must have stolen the boat
of the fugitives, and also run away with the
raft which had been left idly rocking on the
water the night before.

“Certainly not these red-skins,” suggested

Hour ; “they have only just arrived.”
“ nd not the maniac, said Frank, “for he
is dead.” _

It was a in story.

.Perhaps t are might be a white hunter, or
miner, hvmg near.

Thaboys bought. of this, but could not con-

 

clude that such was the case, and, even then,
that did not account for the mysterious disap-
pearance of the boat and raft.

Returning to where they had passed the night,
the fugitives began to discuss the situation.
They were not certain now that they cared to
leave thaisland—for a while, at least—because
of the presence of the red-skins, who might
pounce down upon them at any moment.

While thus discussing among themselves, a
prolonged yell was hear , coming from a point
not a quarter of a mile down the stream. This
was followed by the cracking of rifles; then
came louder and fiercer yells and screams, fol-
lowed by more sharp reports, in all, complete
repetitions of the battle sounds which both
Frank and Henry had heard on other occasions.

The sudden din of conflict took both the young
men by surprise.

They did not know what to think or say.

One thing was certain—the red skins who had
so recsntly passed by were a party in the fight,
but of whom the other party was composed, our
youn friends were unable to determine.

Per ups the latter were fugitives like them-
selves, thought the boys, and if so, it would

e no more than right to lend them a helping
hand.

“ Let’s investigate, anyhow,” said Frank,
“and if we can do anybody any good, why do
it. This time we will be the enemy in ambush;
we’ll beat the savages at their own game."

“But Inez,” said Henry-“what can we do
with Inez?“ '

“Leave her here among the rocks; she is per-
fectly safe here,” replied Frank. “ We’ll not
be gone long, depend upon it. Come, Henry,
come."

The little girl was left in a safe place on the
island, and instructed to remain there until
either or both of the boys returned. ,

The latter, divestin ' themselves of a portion
of their clothing, too to the water, and were
soon safely landed on the opposite shore. There
they found their Weapons, rifles and revolvers
lying in the sand where the boys had thrown
them before they themselves had ventured into
the water. A quantity of ammunition was also
sent over in the same way.

There were still sounds of conflict in the air,
yells, shouts, screams and the cracking of rifles.

Then came a cessation of these sounds, an in-
terruption of the battle, which seemed to indi-
cate victory or defeat for one of the contending
forces.

Frank and Henry, without much thought of
fionsequences, hurried toward the scene of con—

ict.

They fairly made their feet fly, springing
over rocks, rushing through thick bushes and
tangled vines, dodging among trees and bend-
ing boughs, until finally they found themselves
in an open space, at the extreme end of which
opposite to where they stood, at the foot of 9.
led e of rocks, was what seemed to be a cabin,
an which was, in fact, the home of the un-
known miner where the boys had passed a week
some time before.

And here was the scene of battle.

A dozen cowardly savages were intent on
capturing the house, which was being bravely
and successfully defended, but by whom the
boys did not know.

‘Strange that we did not know that the
house was so near,” muttered Frank; “ we
could have been there long ago had we known it. ”

They secreted themselves in the bushes, with-

’in easy rifle-range of the red-skins, and began

to watch procee ings closely.

The savages were not very daring in their at-
tack on the house; they kept concealed most of
the time behind rocks and trees, venturing out
occasionally to fire their rifles and make other
warlike demonstrations toward the enemy in
the house.

Presently, however, they began toshow signs
of a des erate' move of some kind, and then,
with sud en fury, they were seen'to leave their
hiding-places and dash toward the house,
Whooping, yelling, shouting and firing their
rifles as they rushed along.

Then came three death-telling shots, one
from the house and two from the bushes, and
threlt; of the bowling crowd fell dead In their
tree 5.

 

U
CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION. I
FRANK and Henry had fired the two fatal
shots from the bushes, and immediatel follow—
ed them up with other shots, using the r revol-
vers now, which were equally as death-dealing
as their rifles. ‘
The savages‘were taken completely by sur-

 

prise. Believing that a large force of whites
were about to fall upon them, they turned and
fled like frightened deer.

Approaching the house, the boys observed a
tall, gray-haired man standing by the door. A
smoking rifle was in his hand, and in his belt
was thrust a brace of pistols and a long-bladed
knife.

“ I didn’t expect help from anybody,” said
the man, as the boys halted in front of him. “ I
reckon I’d ’3) been a goner, though, ef ye hedn’t
come jist as ye did; ’twas mighty lucky. Where
do you come from, and who are you?"

The boys very briefly gave an account of
themselves, and then Frank asked the stranger’s
name.

“ Mose Bradley,” was the reply; “ those who
know me best call me ‘Uncle Mose.’ I’ve lived
yer along while, but it‘s gitting too hot fer me
now; PM have to leave. Once I had the whole
country hereabouts all to myself, but now the
thing is badly cut up, and I don’t dare sta 'here
any longer. But, speakin of the red evils,
how many of ’em did we ki 1 in all!”

“ I don‘t know: I didn’t count either the
living or the dead,” returned Frank: “the dead
were carried away. "

“ Five or six fell,” declared Henry. “ It
was a bad drubbing we gave them.”

“ The rascals are running yet, I reckon,"
added the stranger; “they’ll not come back,
depend upon it. 7'

The boys here spoke of Inez, and proposed
to return for her at once.

“ Have you a boat?” asked Henry.

“ Yes—a very bed one,” replied the man.
“ It has been sto en from me once or twice:
only night before last I found it fastened to a
rock just the very place that you are going now. -"

The boys looked at each other and smiled.
The mysterious disappearance of the boat was
now explained. '

It was not much of a trip to the island, where
the boys went at once. They found the little
girl just as they had left her, and placing her in
the boat, the three started at once for the hubi
tatiou of their new-found friend.

A short distance from the island, lodgui
among a quantity of brush and driftwood, \\ :n‘
the raft which the young fugitives had built,
and which had no deubt worked itself loose from
shore and floated away in the night.

So another mystery was explained.

Reaching the stranger's abode, the young peo-
ple were granted the full liberty of the place;
they were given food and shelter, the old fron-
tiersman treating them with the utmost kind-
ness.

Speaking of himself, he said that he had lived
there in the mountains several years, not as a
hunter or trapper, but as a gold—digger; had
been successfu in this, and had lately sold his
accumulated gold dust to an Eastern merchant,
to whom he had taken it, for enough money to
keep him the rest of his life. i

“I have only just got back from there,” he
said; “1 thought I‘d  here awhile longer,
but I won‘t; its too" hot or me. I’ll go East
and live with my eople. But first I want to
find my partner. e’s a strange—looking chap——
kind 0’ wild like. Maybe vou have spen him
somewhere.”

“ You don’t mean a crazy man, do you:W
questioned Henry, quickly.

“ That’s the ticket," rep led the man, without
hesitation; “crazy? I should say so; he’s a per-
fect maniac. He went crazy about three months
ago, and took to the hills. I’ve tried my best to
capture him, but it’s no go: he’s too sly for me.
When I saw him last he looked like a wild ani-
mal. I can’t understand why he is afraid of
me—his old partner, who would die for him, al-
most. He followed me East, but I lost track of
him at the Missouri river. I reckon he must

have started back. Poor fellow. The trouble.

with his head was brought on b a fall; Irs‘ckon
it must have cracked his sku l. Anyway, he
never got over it; in a few days after he got the
tumble he went stark mad. and now he is just
like a wild animal. Tell me, have you seen
such a person anywheret”

Again another mystery was explained. The ’

strange, wild creature. whom the boys had
known as the mysterious horseman, now de-
veloped into the insane partner of the old miner.

Briefly the young men told the old man the
story of their experience with the crazy ranger,
concludin with the assertion that he was now
undoubte ly dead, as the had seen his scalp
hanging to the belt of an ndlan warrior.

“1 had expected as much,” observed the
old man. “I knew it would come to that—I

knew it would; but it makes me feel awful bad
to think of it—it does, by mighty.”

 

 

A»

 

 

 

 

The. Border Rovers.

15

 

 

 

but, 11 everything else, it had its end, and
other matters came up’ for Consideration. '

Something must be done for Inez. There was
no doubt of the death of her father, but for all
any of our”friends knew to the contrary, her
mother and several of the outlaw band were
still living.

“Better take her home at once," suggested
the miner. “ She’s a nice little gal, but it
wouldn‘t be right to keep her away from her
friends. Let’s go at once.”

“But isn’t it dangerous for us to venture
among the outlaws?” was the very natural
query of Henry. .

The miner explained that lie was on friendl
terms with the outlaws, had once saved the li e
of the robber chief, and this, together with the
fact that Inez was being returned to her home
by them, would certainly give them immunity
from danger.

it was therefore decided to go at once, and
early the next morning they started.

It was a tiresome journey of two days, but
the end was reached at last, and without hes1ta-
tion the miner and his three companions entered
the cave.

Then followed a terrible revelation.

Scattered about in the several rooms of_ the
cave were the dead bodies of all that remained
of the outlaw band, including the wife of the
robber chief, the mother of the little girl, Inez.
There was not a. spark of life in any of the
bodies; they had seemingly been cold several
days. And. more mysterious still, there was
not a wound of any kind on any of them, not a.
spot of blood. not the slightest ev1dence of a
life or death struggle with an open enemy!

But the Chinaman—where was he?

Another revelation came like a flash of light.
The Chinaman was nowhere to be found, either
living or dead: he had gone, nobody could. tell
where. Upon him therefore rested the suspiCion
of murder. There was little doubt that he had
cunning] y awaited his opportunir y and poisoned
the whole crowdl V _ I

in justification of this belief, a quantity of
bellail )niia leaves were found near the rude fire-
place, where the Chinaman was wont to pre re
the daily meals, and this, together with the fact
that he was missing, stamped him as the mur-
derer. Having thus summarily disposed of his
enemies, the cunning wretcli had no doubt pro-
vided himself with all necessaries for a long
3' Nix-Loy and set out for the Pacific Coast.

At any rate, he was never afterward seen or
heard of by any of our friends.

The latter did not remain long at the cave;
they were glad to get away from the scene of
death, and doubly glad to re ich.the comforta-
ble habitation of the old miner, which they did
at a late hour the following night.

The grief of little Inez over the loss of
her relatives and friends was terrible. The

oor little waif was not long for this world,
'Eowever: she had never fully recovered from
the harsh treatment received at the hands of
the maniac miner, and a few days following
the knowledge that her mother was dead, she,
too, sickened and died.

They buried her by the side of the stream,
and marked the grave with a granite stone,
upon Which Henry had cut in rude letters the
one word “ Inez.” .

The next day, having made all preparations
to leave the country, the old miner, accom-
panied by Frank and Henry, also an old dog.
whom the boys recognized as their friend
Misery, set out for the regular Overland Trail.
where they higxd to fall in with a. company of
western-boun travelers.

“This jere dog,” explained the miner, to the
questioning look of the two lads, “ is mine only
by inheritaDCe; he belonged to my partner.
He’s a mighty good dog fer Iugins, but poor fer
everything else, but, having been my partner’s
dog, I’ll take him With‘me.”

They reached the trail the next day, and three
days later, as good luck would have it, sighted
an emigrant train bound for California.

The rest can be told in a very few words.
The boys found friends among the emigrants,
who, hearing theirthrilling story, re arded them
as young heroes. The old miner a so came in
fora share of admiration. Gladly the emigrants
took them into their train, and. six weeks later
the golden shores of California. were reached,
and the friends of thelong, weary Journe part.
ed companv, some going one way, an. some
another. Only Frank and Henry remained to«
gather. . v .

And as it was then, so it is now, they are In-
separable friends and companions.

 * m END.

The lgrief of the old hunter-miner was genuine, 
e

 

 

1 THE MAsIIED BRIDE. 8% Mrs. Mary R. Crowell.
2 WAS IT LOVE? By Wm. . ason 'l‘iuner.

3 THE GIRL WIEE. , Bv Bartley '1‘. Campbell.

4 A BRAvE HEART. By Arabella Southworth.

5 BESSIE RAYNOR. By Wm. Mason Turner, M. D.
6 THE SECRET MARRIAGE. By Sara Claxton.

7 A DAUGHTER or EVE. By Mrs. Crowell.

8 HEART To HXZAR . By Arabella Southworth.

9 ALONE IN THE ORLD. By author of “Clifton.”
10 A PAIR OF GRAY EYES. By Rose Kennedy.

11 ENTANGLED. B 'Henrietta Thackeray.

12 HIS LAWEUL IFE. By Mrs. Stephens.

13 MADCAP. By Corinne (,‘ushman.

14 WHY I MARRIED HIM. By Sara Claxton.

15 A FAIR FACE. By Bartley T. Campbell.

16 TRUST HER NOT. By Margaret Leicester.

17 A LovAL LOVER. By Arabella Southworth.

18 HIS IDOL. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell.

19 THE BROKEN BETROTIIAL. By Mary G. Halpine.
20 ORPHAN NELL. By Agile Penne.

21 Now AND FOREvER. By R. Thackeray.
22 THE BRIDE OF AN ACTOR. By the author of

“ Alone in the World,” etc., etc.

2‘3 LEAP YEAR. By Sara Claxton.
24 HER FACE \VAS HER FORTUNE. By E. Blaine.
25 ONLY A SCROOLiIIsruizss. By A. Soiitliworth.
‘26 WITHOUT A HEART. By Col. P. liigrriliaiii.
27 WAS SEE A Co UETTEY By H. Thackeray.
28 SvDIL CHASE. y Mrs. Ann S. Ste liens.
29 FOR HER DEAR 511515. By Sara C axton.
80 TIIE BOUQUET GIRL. By Agile Penue.
31 A MAD MARRIAGE. By Mary A.Denison.
MARIANA,§HE ERIiIA DONNA. B ' A. Sodthworth.
THE TI—IRE ; SISTERS. By Alice lileming.
. A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE. By Sara Claxton.
35 ALL AGAINST HER. By Clara Augusta.
86 BIR_AROIIER's BRIDE. By Arabella Southworth.
7 THE COUNTRY COUSIN. By Rose Kennedy.
.9 His OWN ACAIRsBy Ara )ella Southworth.
39 FLIRTATION. By Ralph Royal.
40 PLEDCED T0 MARRY. By Sara Claxton.
41 BLIND DEVOTION. By Alice Fleming.
42 BEATRICE, THE BEAUTIFUL. By A. Southworth.
43 THE BARONET‘s SECRET. By Sara Claxcon.

44 THE ONLY DAUGHTER. ByAlic/e Fleming.
45 HER HIDDEN FOE. By Arabella Southworth.
46 Tim LITTLE HEIRESS. By M. A. Denison.
47 BECAUSE SHE LOVED HIM. BylAlice Fleming.
48 IN SPITE or HERBELI". By S. . Sherwood
49 HIs lln-Iir’s MIsTRE-is. By Arabella Southworth.
50 THE OCEAN HEIRESS. By Mrs. Mary A. Deiiison.
5! Two YOUNG GIRLS. By Alice Fleming.
5;; Tan WINOED MEsanOER. By Mar ' eed Crowell
$3 AGNES Horn. By W. M. Turner, Il . D.
51 ONE Won .N's HEART. By George S. Kaimc.
55 SIIE DID NOT LOVE HIM. By Arabella Southwor‘tb.
56 LOVE—MAI). By Wm. M. Turner. Ed. D.

57 A BRAVE GIRL. ByAJicc Fleming.
58 THE EEON MASK. By Mary Reed Crowell.

59 A WIIIOw’s WILES. Byliachcl Bernhardt.
60 CECIL’S DECEIT. By Jennie Davis Burton.

u.

3

61 A WICKED HEART. By Sara Claxton.

62 TIIE MANIAC BRIDE. y lvlnrgm-ct Blount.
63 THE CRE'i‘LE SISTERS. By Anna E. Porter.
64 “'EAT JEALOUsY DID. By Alice Fleming.

65 THE WIEE‘S SECRET. Bv Col. Juan Lewis.
60 A B‘EOTIIIIR'S SIN. By Rachel Bernhardt.
67 FORBIDDEN BANS. By Arabella Southworth.

WEAVERS AND WEFT. By Mrs. M. E. Braddon.
CAMILLE. By Alexander Dumas.

THE Two ORPHANS. B D'Ennerv.

My YOUNG WIFE. B y YoungWife‘s Husband.
THE Two WIDows. 'Aunie Thomas.

73-ROSE MICHEL. By llaude Hilton.

74 CECIL (LASTLEMAINE'S GAGE. By Onida.

75 THE BLACK LADY OE DUNA. By J. S. Le Fanu.

76 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. ‘By Mrs. Rowson. '

.7.” CHRIsTIAN OARLEY‘S MISTAKE. B ' Miss Mulock.

Cases

.75 MY YOUNG HUSDAND. By )lysel .

79 A QUEEN AMONGST WOMEN.
“ Dora Thorn.”

80 HER LORD AND MASTER.

81 LUCY TEMPLE.

82 A LONG TIME AGO. By Meta Orred.

88 PLAYING For: HIGH STAKES. By Annie Thomas

84 THE LAUREL BUSH. By Miss Mulock.

85 LED ASTRAY. By Octave Feuillet.

86 J ANET'S REPENTANCE. By George Eliot.

87 ROMANCE OF A POOR YOUNG MAN. By 0. Feuillet.

88 A TERRIDLE DEED. Bv Emma G. Jones.

89 A GILDED SIN. .

90 THE AUTHOR’S DAUGHTER. By Mary Howitt.

91 THE JILT. By Charles Roade.

92 EILEEN AIANNA. By Dennis O‘Sullivan.

93 Lovn‘s VICTORY. By B. L. Farjeon.

94 THE QUIET HEART. By Mrs. Oliphant.

95 LETTICE ARNOLD. By Irs. Marsh.

96 HAUNTED HEARTS. By Rachel Bernhardt.

9? HUGE MELTON. By Catharine King.

98 ALICE LEARMONT. By Miss Mulock.

99 MARJORIE BRUUE‘S LOVER. By Mary Patrick.

100 THROUGH FIRE AND WATER. By Fred. Talbot.

101 HANNAH. By Miss Mulock.

102 PEG WOFH'INGTON. By Charles Reade.

103 A DESPERATE DEED. By Erskine. Boyd.

104 SHADOWS ON THE SNow. By B. L. Far'eon.

105 THE GREAT HOCGARTY DIAMOND. y W. M.

Thackeray.

106 FROM DREAMS To WAXING. By E. Lynn Linton.

10? POOR ZEPH. By F. W. Robinson.

108 THE BAD FORTUNES or THE REV. Aims BARTON.

By George Eliot. I

109 BREAD-AND-CHEEBE AND KIssEs. By B. L. Fadeon

110 Tau WANDERINO HEIR. BEG. Reade.

111 THE BROTHER'S BET. By . F. Carlen...

112 A HERO. ByMiss Mulcck. . .‘ 1

By the author of
By Florence Marryat.

\

 

l
113 PAUL AND VIRGINIA. From the French of Ber-

 Library. 1

nardiii de St. Pierre.
114 ‘I'WAS IN TRAEALCAR‘S BAY. By WalterBesaut
and James Rico. 7
115 THE MAID or KILLEENA. By Wiliiam Black.
[16 HETTY. By Henry Kiut'sley.
117 TIIE WArsIDE CROSS. ‘y Capt. E. A. Milman.
115 THE VICAR or WAKEFIELD. By Oliver Goldsmith.
119 MAUD MOHAN. By Annie Thomas.
120 THADDEUS or WARSAW. By Miss Jane Porter.
121 THE KING or Nil-LAND. B ' B. L. Farjeon.
1'” LOYEL TEE Winownn. By '.  Thackeray.

i753 AN ISLAND PEARL. By B. L. Farjcon.

124 COUSIN LIs. .

125 LEILA; or. THE SII—zGE or GRENADA. By Edwar
Bulwer, (Lord L) ttmi.)

126 WHEN THE SHIP COMES HOME. By Walter

Besant and James Rice.

ONE OF THE FAMILY. B ' James Payn.

TEE BIRTEIRIGET. By rs. Gore.

129 MOTHERLESR; or, The Farmrr's Sweetheart. By

Colonel Prentiss Iiigraham.

130 HOMELESS; or, The Two Orphan Girls in New
York. By Albert 1V. Aiken.

131 SISTER AGAINST SISTER: or, The Rivalry of
Hearts. B Mis. Mary Reed Crowell.

132 SOLD FOR OLD; or, Almost Lost. By Mrs. M.
V. Victor.

133 LORD ROTE’s SIN: or. Betrothed at the Cradle.
By Mrs. Georgiana Dickens.

134 DID HE LOVE HER? By Bartley T. Campbell.

135 SINNED AGAINST; or, Almost in His Power. .By

Lillian Love'oy. ,

136 WAS SEE His 'IrE? By Mail'sy Res-d Crowell.

137 THE VILLAGE ON TEE CLIFF. .v Miss Thackeray.

13R POOR VALERIA. By Margaret Blount.

139 BIARGARET GRAHAM. By G. P, R. James.

140 VVITEOL‘T MERCY. By Bartle T. Campbéll.

141 HONOR BOUND. By Lillian Lovejoy.

142 FLEEINC FROM LOVE. Mrs. Hariiet Irving.

143 ABDl'CTED. By Rett Winwood. .

144 A STRANGE \RRIAGE. By Lillian Lovejoy.

145 Two GIRLs' VES. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell.

146 AlIEerRATE VENTURE. By Arabella Southworth

TEE WAR or HEARTS. By Corinne Cushinan.

148 \\ men WAS THE WOMAN? By Sara Claxton.

149 AN AMEITIOUS GIRL. By Frances H. Davenport.

150 LOVE LORD OF ALL. By Alice May Fleming. ~

1’ A WILD GIRL. By Corinnc Cushman. q:

152 A MAN’S SACRIFICE. By Harriet Irving.

153 1711) SHE SIN? By Mrs. IllaIyReed Crowell.

151 BE LOVES ME NOT. B Lillian Lovejoy.

155 “YINNINC WAYS. By ll argnret Blount.

156 WHAT SHE (‘OST HIM. By Arabella Southworth.

15.~ A GIRL’S HEART. By Rem. \‘i’inwood.

159 A BITTER MISTAKE. By Agnes Mary Shelton.

159' LADY HELEN'S Vow. By {he lair Mis. E. F. Eliot.

160 BL'Y1NG A HEART. By Lillian annjoy.

101 PEARL or PEARLS. By A. P. Morris. Jr.

us: A YATEEKL GA E. By Sara Clntoii. -

‘63 TH) CR: OLE COUSINs. By Philip S. W e.

161 A S A KING 0 BEAT. By Georgiana ckens.

165 A S‘RANGE GIRL. By A lbert W. Ail-zen”

165 A MAN’S SIN. By Rett Winwood.

167 THE HAND or FATE. By Arabella Southworth.

168 Two FAIR WOMEN. By Wni. Mason Turner.

169 TEMPTED TH‘POUGH LOVE. By Lillian Lovegfoy.

170 BLIND BARRARA’s SECRET. B IliaryG. Ha pine.

171 A WOMAN’S WITCEERY. B . ara Claxton.

172 BLACK EYES AND BLUE. y Corinne Cizsiiman,

173 THE COST or A FOLLY. By Georgiana Dickens.

174 THE PRETTY PURITAN. By A Parson’s Daughter.

1:27
1%

‘l

,4

'175 Is LOVE 1‘. MOCKERY? B ' Arabella South worth.

Jennie Davis Burton. .

176 ADRIA, TEE ADOPTED.
VED. By Agnes Mary

177 FOR THE WOMAN HE
Shelton.

178 Tim: LOCKED HEART. By Corinne Cushman.

179 PARTED av TREACHERY. By Harriet living. '

180 WAS SEE A \VIEE? By Bet-t Winwood.

181 UNDER A CLOUD. By Sara Claxton.

182 AN AMERICAN QUEEN. “r; Grace MOI/timer.

183 A POINT or HONoR. By illian Lovejo .

184 Possum) TO THE ALTAR. By Corinne Ozisliman.

185 PUT TO A TEs . By Georgiana Dickens.

186 THE TERRIBLE RI'TH. By Jennie Davis Burton.

187 OITEETED 13v HERSELF. By Arabella Booth-
wo .

188 FLORETTE. By 00]. Prentiss Ingraham.

189 HER GUARrIAN"s SACRIFICE. By Sara Claxton.

190 PRETTY AND PROUD. By Corinne Cushmm

191 A WONAN’S DIANEINER. By Lillian Lovejoy.

192 THE BITTER FEUD. By Jennie Davis Burton.

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l Adventures of Buffalo Bill. Prom Boyhood to Man
hood, By 001. Prentiss lngraham.
2 The Ocean Hunters: or, The Chase of the Leviathan. By l
Captain Mayne Reid. WA", eactra large number. Q I
3 Adventures of Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince. Remarkable ‘
career of J. B. Hikok. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
4 The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders. By Jos.
E. Badger, Jr. u
5 Texas Jack. the Mustang King. Thrilling Adventures in
the Life of J. B. Omohundro, “ Texas Jack.” By Col. P. Ingreham.
6 Cruise of the Plyaway; or, Yankee Boys in Cevlon. By C.
Dunning Clark. '
7 Roving J oe: The History of a Young “ Border Ruffian.” Brief 3
Scenes from the Life of Joseph E. Badger, Jr. By A. H. Post. “
8 The Plyaway Afloat; or, Yankee Boys ’Round the World.
By C. Dunning Clark.
‘ 9 Bruin Adams, Old Grizzly Adams’ Boy Pard.
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
10 The Snow Trail; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land. A Narra-
tive of Sport and Life around Lake Winnipeg. By T. C. Harbaugh.
1 1 Old Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tamer; or, The Monarch of
the Mountain. By Dr. Frank Powell.
12 Wood; and ‘Na. erg ; The Exploits oi the Littleton Gun
Club. By Capt. F're erick ttakei‘. -
13 A Rolling Stone: Incidents in the Career on Sea and Land as
Bo and Man, of Col. Prentiss Ingraham. By ProLWm. R. Eyster.
. :4 A rift an the Pr§rie. and Amateur Hunters on the
- , “3319 Range. y Oil Coomes.
15 it Carson, King of Guides ; 01', Mountain Paths and
Prairie Trails. By Albert W. Aiken.
18 Red River Rovers; or, Life and Adventures in the Northwest.
By C. Dunning Clark.
17 Plaza and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of “Buckskin Sam,”
(Mayor Sam S. Halli By Col. Prentiss lngraham.
18 Rifle and Reva ver; 01-, The Littleton Gun Club on the
By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
_ George, the Boy Pioneer. By Ed. Willett.
20 Tue I.th Dragoon; or, The Story of General George A.
Custer, from V est Point to the Big Horn. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
21 Deadwood Dick as a. Boy; or, Why Wild Ned Harris, the New
e England Farmland, became the Western Prince of the Road. By
)

Byi

' Buffalo Ran
19 Wid «ist

EdWard L. Wheeler.
“22 The Boy Exiles of Siberia. By T. C. Harbaugh.
23 Paul De Lacy, the French Beast Charmer; or, New
York Boys in the Jungles. By C. Dunning Clark. '
24 The Sword Prince : The Romantic Life of Colonel Monstery,
(American Champion-at-arms.) By Captain Fred. Whittaker.
25 Round the Cump Fire ; or, Snow-Bound at “Freeze-out Camp.”
A Tale of Roving Joe and his Hunter Pards. By J os. E. Badger, Jr.
28 Snow-Shoe Tom: or, New York Boys in the Wilderness. A
" Narrative of Sport and Peril in Maine. By T. C. Harbaugh.
27 Yellva Hair. the Boy Chief of the Pawnees. The Ad-
venturous Career of Eddie Burgess of Nebraska. By Col. Ingraham.
28 The Chase of the’G'rent White Stag and Camp and
Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark.
29 The Fortune-Hunter; or, Roving Joe as Miner, Cow-Boy,
Trapper and Hunter. By A. H. Post.
80 Walt Ferguson's Cruise. A Tale or the Antarctic Sea. By
C. Dunning Clark. .
31 The Boy Crusader; or, How a Page and a Fool Saved 3 King.
By Captain Frederick Whittaker.
82 White Beaver, the Indian Medicine Chief: or, The Ro-
mantic and Adventurous Life of Dr. D. Frank Powell, known on the
‘ , Border as “Fancy Frank,” “ Iron Face,” etc. By 031. P. Ingraham.
33 Captain Ralph, the Young Explorer; or, The Centipede
Among the Flees. By C. Du ning Clark.
34 The Young Bear Hunter A Story of the flaps and Mishapé
of a Party of Boys in the Wilda of Michigan. By Morris Redwing.
85 e Lost Boy Whalers; or, In the Shadow of the North Pole.
y T. C. Harbaugh.
36 Smart Sim, the Lad with a. Level Head. By Ed. Willett.
87 Old Tar Knuckle and His Boy Chums; or, The Monsters
of the Esquimaux Border. By Roger Starbuck.
88 The Settler’s Son; or, Adventure in [Wilderness and Clear-
ing. By Edward S. Ellis.
39 Night‘Hawk George, and His Daring Deeds and Adventures
in the Wilds of the South and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
40 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways of the Lone Coast. By
' Captain Frederick Whittaker.
41 The Pump-.- Hunter-s; or, New York Boys in Buenos Ayres.
,, . By T. C. Earbaugh. ‘
42 The Y L'am’d-l’fish‘her. By 'C. Dunning Clark.

43 Bronco 3 , the Saddle Prince. By Col P. Ingroham.

 

l

44 The Snow Hunters
De Forrest.

45 Jack. Harry and Tom. the Three Champion Brothers; 01:.
Ad entures of Three Brave Boys with the Tattooed Pirate. BN7
Ca ItHlll Frederick Whittaker. .
The Condor Killers; or, Wild Adventures at the Equator;
By T. C. Harbaugh.

The Boy Coral Fishers; or, The Sea Cavern Scourge.
Roger Star-buck.

; or, Winter in the Woods. By Barry
' i

46
47
48

B?
or, A Yankee Boy’s Strange Cruise-

58
59

By'
By

Dick, the Stowaway;
By Charles Morris.
49 Tip Tressell, the Floater; or, Fortunes and Misfortunes on:
the Mississippi. By Edward Willett.
50 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska. Charlie, (Chas E.
Burgess.) By Colonel Prentiss. Ingraham.
51 The Colorado Boys; or, Life on an Indigo Plantation. By
Joseph E. Badger, Jr. .
52 Honest Harry; or, The Country Boy Adrift in the City. By
Charles Morris.
53 The Buy Detectives; or, The Young Californians in Shanghai.
By T. C. Harhaugh.
54 California Joe, the Mysterious Plainsman. By Col. Ingraham,.
55 Harry Somers, the Sailor-Boy Magician. By S. W. Pearce.
56 thody’s Boys; or, Life Among the Gipsies. By J. M. Hoff
man.
57 Th ~ Menagerie Hunter; or, Fanny Hobart, the Animull
Queen. By Major B. Grenville, “Sea Gull.”
Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines. By Charles Morris.
Lud Licnheels, the Young Tiger Fighter. By Roger Starbuck.
60 The Young Trail Hunters; or, New York Boys in Grizzly
Land. By T. C. Harbaugh.
61 The Young Mustangers. By C. Dunning 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 Camp—fire in the;
New Brunswick Woods. By Wm. H. Manning.
65 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker; or, Two Brave Boys.
to the Rescue. By Roger Starbuck.
86 Little Dan Rocks; or, The Mountain Kid’s Mission. By,
Morris Redwing.
67 ’Longsh‘ore Lije; or, How a Rough Boy Won His Way.
C. Dunning Clark.
68 Platboat Fred; or, The Voyage of the “Experiment.”
Edward Willett.
69 The Deer-Hunters; or, Life in the Ottawa Country. By
John J. Marshall.
'30 Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle of the Plains; or, The Boy
Truppers of Oregon. By Roger Starbuck.

71 The Bo Pilot; or, The Island Wreckers. By Col. Ingraham.
72 Youn ick Talbot. By Albert W. Aiken.

73 Pat ullone ’s Adventures; or, Silver Tongue, the Dacotah.
74

Queen. By C. . Edwards.

The Desert Rower; or, Stowaway Dick Among the Arabs.
By Charles Morris. .

The Border Gunmaker; or, The Hunted Maiden. By James

L. Bowen.
The Kit Carson Club; or, Young Hawkeyes in the North-

west. By T. C. Harbaugh.
Left-Handed Pete, the Double-Knife. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.
The Boy Prospector; or, The Scout of the Gold Ravine. By;-

Roger Siarbuck.
Minonee, the Wood Witch; or, The Squatter’s Secret. By Edwin

Emerson. _ . .
The Boy Cruisers; or, Joe and Jap‘s Big Find. Ey Edward

80
\Villett.
The Border Rovers; or, Lost on Overland Trail. By J.

81
Milton Hoffman. I
82 The Wolf Queen; or, The Giant Hermit of the Scioto. By
Captain Charles Howard.
'83 The You: Nihilist; or, A Yankee Boy Among the Russians.
By Charles orris.
Little Rifle; or, The Young Fur Hunters. By Capt. “ Bruin”
Adams.

76

77
78

79

84
A New Issue Every Week.‘

Bunm’s Bov’s LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents
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