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TRUTH STRANGE“ THAN FICTION!

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62.50 a. year. Post Office at New York, N. Y.. as firmond (‘IauiMaH Matter
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Vol. II.. No. 32.

01', The Romantic and Adventurous
- ' ' ' Life of Dr. 1). Frank Powell,
I Known on the Border as _
, ’ “ Fa‘ucy Frank,” “ Iron
*—

Mace,” Etta, Etc.

July 19, 1882,

Price,
Five Cents.

Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND
Number- No. 98 \WLLIAI» {BET NEW YORK.

ADAMS,

BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR. OF “ADVENTURES OF BUFFALO BILL,” “WILD BILL,” “ TEXAS JACK,’{ -- BRUIN ADAMS,” mm, ETC.

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AGAIN AND AGAIN DID FRANK POW FIRE, UNTIL THE REVOLVER WAS EMPTIED, AND YET WI‘IH N0 “PARENT Em.

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. White Beaver, the Indian. Mediate Clues

 

 

' I . . o. I
 . r White Beaver,
The, Indian Medicine Chief;
, ' 0R:
 ’ I The Romantic and Adventurous Lire
W at Bra 1). Frank Powell, Known
on the Border as “ Funny

Frank,” “ Iron Face,”
£30., Elm, Etc.

 

, , BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM,
humor. or, “ADVENTURES or numum BILL,”
“WILD BILL,” “TEXAS JACK,” Ere.-

 

.. . CHAPTER I.
” ' ‘ rannx'romn’s mar monr.*

‘ TOWARD the close of a pleasant day, about
twenty-five years ago, a. canvas-top vehicle,
drawn by four horses, was rolling slowly
across a. long bridge, which spanned a Western
river. ’

‘r The vehicle was well-built, long and wide-
bodied, had good springs, and was drawn by
four stout horses.

It was just what it looked—a travelers’ con-
veyance—and the driver was a woman, who
held the reins over the four-in-hand in a style
that showed she was not a. novice with horses.

, * Of Dr. Frank Powell, whOSe frontier names are
given on the title page, the La Grosse Ultra/mtg says:
1 “At a to hour Saturday night there called at
the “Oh I la omce a 'tall. athletic-looking man,
. stra' ht n-sn arrow with long black wavy hair
” han ug down uggn his shoulders, and withal as fine
a specimen of? meal manhood as one could wish
tosee. So 11 washis step upon the oflloe floor
that ittgras not that-1&1; tones ofh his vottfaet tehlsl
, upon 6 oar , h a over '
resence made  e was a seeker after

  
  

ntormati , it, his exit was as
silentas en , ' not until the early
streaks ’ - , , our h of
"‘8 “has: or '11 mag“ admit "#mmm °
aware - as m a m
Harem, ,Beavor, d Sachem .oi the

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on
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an . ‘ 'ththeirrowners per
18% innow‘m braekéfi 
’ im 11% relics from all oval- 3111‘:

' seal . e .
‘ heY wstoné Park Pik ‘ Peck, th
a _' um” oléheuglodls and Yosemit'etlfia :y. Among
 n omerstion are 3 types of th'
_   of figvflintion' and culture. There a:
,. ' ,, ' , ' pan and one there a.
L J .' ’ I m or

 

ograph adorn the wells.  “lining in
or the room to r, and hing one
  , , _ another into my hand, and t th
. '- \ an enthusiasm that is contagious is this paradox-
w Indian leader and lumber. m. mm 3;

mhmgf lives, yet with flu or manyupon'h

' Dr. Poweilwasbo in 1 in New York State,
his tether a gotchnifi and his mother the

- dcrurghter of a. giant eca Indian ohlei.
6 Doctor two there, both living on the
, «.0113, Powell; is mm: M " Tessa
i~ / mast ?‘§“"‘ihmi’ rm
-, ason enemas ‘
V ' ’y  Bill ” and "Handsome Will.” ,

 

. :

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She was ; a handsome {woman of thirtysflve

- perhaps, with a willowy form, clad in dark

gray homespun, jet-black hair,‘ large dark
eyes, full of feeling in repose and fire in'an-
ger, and her complexion was either deeply sun~
burnt, or her veins tinged with the blood of
the Indian.

By her side sat a boy of ten, with dark blue
eyes, ebony hair falling in curls upon his
shoulders, and a face of rare beauty, strangely
resembling the woman. ‘

Behind the vehicle came two horses and
riders, the former wiry, spirited little animals,
and the latter boys, aged respectively twelve
and fourteen, and bearing a marked likeness to
the driver of the vehicle and the youth by her
side, though they yet did not look alike.

That the three were brothers and the woman
their mother no one would doubt who saw

‘ them.

The two boys on horseback Were handsome,
well formed fellows, with piercing eyes, reso-
lute faces, broad shoulders, and a look of calm
confidence in themselves that was not by an y
means bruggudocio.

One glancing at the camp-sticks and tent-
poles protruding from the vehicle, and the iron
kettle and buckets swinging beneath, with an ax
and couple of hatchets resting in brackets on
the axle, then at the dark faces of the travelers,
would think it was a Gipsy family roving at
will through the land.

But not so, for they were native-born Amer-
icans, the mother and her ~ sons boasting of
proud blood in their veins, which mingled with
. that of a great Seneca Indian chief, famous in
the history of New York State as the ally of
the whites in many a bloody war in years
gone by.

From their home, a pleasant farm in Sullivan
county, New York, the mother and her sons
had started to room at will through the land,
inheriting their roving trait from their Indian
ancestor, and from State to ’State they had
gone, camping by the roadside at night, cook-
ing their own meals, killing their own game,
and happy around their own bivousc, whether
the storm beat upon them or the sunshine tell
upontheirpath. v, V ,  ‘

The husband and lather had died and left
enough-filth the farm, to keep them from
want," ,laut "filling the ground for bread
was M,what the boys liked, and history
and geography, they preferred by visiting
scenes where the former wastnade, and in
going over the land and rivers in person, in-
steaaottracingoutsnonamsp. \ ..

Such was the family, at thehero or my story,
kind reader, for I have introduced to you the
present noted Medicine Chief, Doctor, ‘Frank
Powell, his mother, since gone to her Marest-
ing-place, and his two brothers, to-day 

,- {rotation-amen, where they are known as Night

ank George and Branch Bill.
But to the incident that opens this story, and
which ls’pointed out to-day as the scene of a

in apiece of timber just on the bank of the
stresm, and in full View of the rowway.
Across the bridge rolled the four-in-hand

gin, -vehicle,"Mrs. Powell driving, and they had

gotten a third or the way over, when they be-
held suddenly turn the bend a couple of car-
riages, attended by‘quite a party upon horse-
back.

The leading vehicle drew up suddenly, at
seeing there was an obstruction upon the
bridge, but a horseman called out stormy, his
words reaching the ears, of the Powells:

. “Drive on, and we'll make the emigrants
back off.” ' " '

This order was greeted with a cry of delight
apparently, from many of' the party, and the
two vehicles moved on once more, the horse-
man, who had so peremptorily spoken riding to
the front, as though to carry out his threat.

Instantly the two Powell boys spurred to the
front, for there was just room for them to
 side, no M‘mather made way
tor them, saying quietly: »

 

2
I ' A

ma.

strange adventure in the long ago, an advent-
5’ wltura marked by two graves, long grown green,

 

“Don’t be rash, boys; but we have the right
of way, and, will keep it." 5

The two boys were Frank and George, new
known respectively as White Beaver and Night
Hawk, and the third, Will—now Bronco Bill~
was seated byhismnother in the vehicle.

“I'll keep cool, mother, don’t fear; but that
party turns back,” said Frank Powell calmly,
and he eyed the coming cavalcade closely.

[t was evidently a gay party of young folks,
for there Were half a score youths and maidens
in ench carriage, and as many more on horse-
back, and their appearance indicated that they
were going to some uicl'ryniaking at the home
of perhaps one of their number.

Urged by their leader, the youth who had
commanded the advance, although he saw that
the bridge was occupied, the party came on,
the sound of wheels and boots upon the long
bridge sounding like thunder.

“ Back there! don’t you see we are coming?”
called out the young leader of the merry party,
and he spurred forward to meet the Powell
boys, while all came to a halt.

“You saw that we were coming before you
entered the bridge, so it is your place to go
back," said Frank Powell, calmly.

‘* It may be, but we are the majority, and
the majority rules in this country, so back you
go,” was ihe insolent reply.

“ The battle is not always to the strong,” re-
sponded Frank in the same quiet way.

“ Ha! you do not intend to obey then,” cried
the young man, white with rage.

“ We do not.”

“Then I’ll make you."

“ Hold on, for we are not to be scared by
bullies, and I warn you off,” shouted Frank, as
the young man rode toward him, his whip
raised as though to‘ strike.

“ Bah! you miserable emigrant’s cub, do you
think to scare me?" and the young man drew
nearer.

“nNo, but I intend to kill you, it you strike
roe. . . .

All heard the reply, and saw that a revolver
wasguickly drawh and- covered the heart of
the one he addressed, and there was that in~the
face of the handsome boy that meant all he

With the eyes of his friends upon him, and
among them the fair maid‘ot his love, the mo-
gant youth felt that he was forced to, show
courage, thoumslilre all bullies, he was new
anxious to back down, so he said: V

“That is your game, is it? Well, this is no
time, in the presence of ladies, to draw weap~
ons, but another time, sir, we will meet as you
please." ,

“You behaved like theblaclrgun‘d you are,
in the presenceof lgdi V (1 now wish to cow-
ardly sneak out offline; but now is the
place to settle this ' _ _‘ for one, or the other
of our parties must back oil, and here we will
settle it.”

“ You don’t mean to say you will oppose us‘

all?” said another of the gay party, riding for
ward, as though anxious to relieve his friend
from an unpleasant simiath r .

“ If you force it uponvns,‘yes.

“Butas this fellow began the trouble, let
him settle it with me,” replied Frank.

“How do you‘mesnl” ~ . ,

“Why, as he appears to be air-aided a pistol,
let him dismount and meet me

“He is much older than I am; and larger,
and it he whips me, we‘will back 03, and if I
whip him, oi! you all go.” ,

“ That’s square," said George Powoll.

“ Ay, Tracey, that is fair,” called out several
of the young men of weather side.’

“Bah! I will soon settle it then.” cried the
youth addressed ah Tracey, and, throwing his
bridle rein to a friend he sprung from his sad-
dle, unheeding the cries of the maidens to let
them back off the bridge. \ r

.Mrs. Powell had not uttered a word, but set

her quietly and say. something to her
younger son, when, Frank spmgto the bridge,
and gave George his horse to hold. I

minimum; upon the scene,'but many saw _

 

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There wasa marked difference. in the two
3': uths when they faced each other, for Tracey
was larger every way, unless it was in breadth
of shoulder, and several inches theltaller, be-
sides he was four or five years the senior of
Frank.

Frank threw aside his jacket, put his belt-of-
arms in the vehicle, and then advanced to meet
his foe.

The other, however, did not withdraw his
coat or even his gloves, so confident was he of
handling the youngster easily, and, as he
stepped toward Frank, aimed a. blow at'him
with his open hand, while he said angrily:

“ Take that, sir."

But that was not only skillfully partied, but
the bully got the small, hard fist of Frank
Powall squarely in his face, and was knocked

reeling against the railing of the bridge.

\

Then before he could recover himself, Frank
Powell had him by the throat, and was rain-
ing blows sharp and quick in his face, on his
breast and into his stomach in a manner that
wholly bewildered the amazed and suffering
youth, as well as frightened his companions,
causing the young girls to cry out in dread
alarm.

In a minute, almost, the spotless shirt front ‘

[was crimsoned, the eyes were blackened, the
nose knocked awry, the coat and vest torn,
and the before well-dressed hair, was standing
on end.

~ “Take him off, or he will kill me,” yelled
the bully, piteously, [and several of his friends
started to his aid.

“ Back,rtherel he began it, and Frank shall
and it.”

It was George Powell who spoke, and he
leveled a. revolver that at once backed up his
words and brought his foes to a standstill.

“Hold on, Frank, he is sufficiently pun-
ished,” called out Mrs. Powell.

“Not until’he asks your pardon, mother,

' for his insultfianswered Frank, and then be

dragged the bully toward the middle of the
bridge while he continued, sternly :

“Quick! ask my mother’s pardon.”

(t I!” be__il - ' .

The words were checked by a savage blow,
and he changed his mind and said humbly:

“I beg pardon madam.” ' I ‘

“It is granted, sir, and in future be more
careful in your words and actions,” responded
Mrs. Powell; '

Then-Frank, released him, and sprung nim-
bly into his saddle, without touching his stir—
rup, what that told all who saw it, that he
was not worried by his combat. ' ' 

Not a mai'k'did‘he'sbow, either, open his
face, though one hand was stained with the
blood of his enemy, who had slunk back’ to the
rear of his party swearing vengeance, rather
than admitting frankly that he was whipped,
and deserved all he got.

“,Then, slowly, step by step, the gay party,
their gayety subdued greatly,‘backed oi! the
bridge, and the Powells moved on and went
into camp” upon the other Side iu’ a'pretty
grove of trees which it seemed nature had in-
tended for an encampment. '

And on their Scene of merry-making went
the party of youths and maidens, though one
of their, number had left them, for mounting
his horse he had spurred quickly homeward,
his brain in awhirl, his heart full of bitter
feelings of revenge.

CHAPTER II.
Tim MIDNIGHT ATTACK.

Tunas was one ‘thing that Frank Powell
heard from the lips of his enemy, Tracey,

 

‘ which caused him to feel a little anxious.

He had distinctly heérd the hiss, rather than
the words: ‘ V .
“You’ll pay for this tonight, or my name

,is not Ned Tracey."

Had the irate youth continued on to the
farm~housc, where the party had gone to the
merry-making, Frank Powell would have

_'thought little of it, but seeing him turn back

i

xiv  _. I“

/

 

set him to thinking, and he said to his brother
George in a low tone:

-“ Don’t let mother or Bill know, George, but
I fear that fellow means to give us trouble to-
night.”

“ He’ll get the worst of it,” answered George.

“ He’ll not come alone. ”

“ All right, We’ll fix for them.”

The camp-ground was a most delightful one,
for the trees formed almost a shelter as secure
as a roof, and there was a bubbling spring at
hand, with plenty of wood.

Frank arranged the wagon in such a way
that it formed a barrier for their horses, for
the river was upon one side, then the boys’
tent, and then the vehicle.

The horses were securely tied and fed, and a
camp-fire built just, in front of the tent, for
Mrs. Powell always slept in the wagon.

A hearty supper was cooked and eaten, and
then Frank said he would take a. little walk,
and at once set out to reconnoiter the position.

“George, Frank expects trouble to—night,”
said the mother, when her oldest son had gone.

“ Yes, mother.”

“ He did not punish that bully enough,
then?" was the quiet remark.

“No, mot-her.”

“When Frank comes back tell him to go to
bed prepared for trouble, for I shall retire
now,” and Mrs. Powell sought her couch in
the wagon.

Frank soon returned, and the three boys, for
Bill now joined them most willingly, young as
he was, set to work to form a plot to defeat
any plan which Tracey might have arranged
to give them trouble.

“ I’ll go on the first watch, and you, George,
take the second, ” said Frank, and he went to
the outer edge of the timber and took up his
position on guard.

It was a bright moonlight night, and he
could see from his position the long bridge
where be him been victorious a few hours be
fore over the bully, the river rolling like silver
beneath, the dark background of the other
shore, the twinkle of a light in a far distant
farm-house, and the glimmer of his own
camp-fire. '

Down the road he kept his eyebfor he knew
that a villa e lay half“ a dozen miles away in
that directfon, and from’ thence must have
come the guy" party who had 'so rudely taken
possessioh of the bridge. ‘ ,

For a. long time he watched. and at last be-
gan to think that Trahey’s' threat had been an
idle one, when suddenly he new dark forms
approaching. ‘ ‘ 3* ' _ 7

As they drew nearer he saw that they were
horsemen, 'and' that they had 'slackened their

' place down to a walk. - ‘

Eagerly looking, he saw that there were

‘nlne‘of them, and one 'of the horses was 8.

white animal, and’ on just such 'a one had
Tracey been mounted in the afternoon. .

Watching them most attentively, he saw
them" fide‘up to a fence and dismount; ‘

“ They have come, and we must look out,"
he muttered, as he bounded through the forest
like a deer. . ' .

’ “ George! vBilll Come, ‘ for they are al-
most here, and there are nine of them,” he
cried in a loud 'whisper.

But the boys had hardly sprung to their feet
when Mrs. Powell appeared before them, fully
dressed, calm, and with a rifle in her hand. ‘

“Mother! you up?” ,

“ Yes, Frank,"and as your foes are coming,
let us get behind yonder large tree on the
river bankland wait,” was the response of
Mrs. Powell, who had hastily taken in the
chances for defense. _ ,

Seizing their arms, the boys followed their
mother to the fallen tree, which formed‘ a safe
shelter for them, and fully commanded the
camp, Frank halting a moment to see that the
horses were securely tied.

Croucbed down behind the tree, wholly
hidden in the shadow, the campers waited the

coming of those who sought revengeiagainst

them.

.. /

3.," V' ' A >I, 

 

r

“Don’t fire unless they mean us real llwarm,
my sons,” said Mrs. Powell.

“ And then, mother defend our camp,” said
Frank firmly.

(K Yes. 1)

It was all that was sale and the moments
that followed seemed about as long as hours.

But at last they heard the cracking of a.
stick, as though it had been trodden upon by a
human foot.

There then appeared in the forest, shadowy
forms, creeping toward the camp-fire.

“ They have dismounted,” whispered Frank.

Nearer and nearer they came, until they
stood in a group, not twenty feet from the
tent, and gazing upon the camp-fire, so silent
and peaceful looking.

Bill held the large dog, which was one of the
rovers, and found it hard to keep him from
breaking loose, or barking. '

For an instant the group stood in silence,
and then a voice cried:

“Now, boys, we’ll give those whelps a good
thrashing before the old woman, and then the“
horses and booty are yours.”

It was Tracey who spoke, for the Powells»
readily recognized his voice, and then they
started toward the camp with a yell.

“ I warn you back! all of you, under penalty
of death, “ came in Mrs. Powell’s clear tones.

“ He! the old witch is awake, so get to
work, boys,” yelled Tracey.

But, as he spoke, there came a flash and a.
report, and he fell in his tracks, for Frank
Powell’s aim was true.

Then came a yell from the attacking party,
with scattering shots, and an answering volley
from the Powells, which dropped three more
of their number. ‘ ' "

“Come, George! Come, Bill! Mother, you
stay there,” cried Frank, and be bounded over .
the tree, unable to remain longer in ambush,
and dashed upon his remaining foes.

Quickly was he followed by his brothers, _‘
mother, and the dog Tiger, and in dismay the '
assailants fired a volley at random and fled. ,

“ Hold on, boys, do not fire on a retreating
foe,” called out Mrs; Powell, and her com-
panion was answered by another shot from the _ .
flying ruflians, which dropped, poor little Bill
Powell in his tracks. ' ‘ ‘ .

With a cry of rage and alarm comminglmi, 
Mrs. Powell sprung to the side of her boy, and
aWay darted Frank and George in hot pursuit,
their hearts full of revenge against their toes \ _

'now, ’for they believed that their brother had

been slain by them. ' .

j As they darted out of the timber they came
suddenly upon the very party;_that they had
met in the afternoon, who were returning
homeward, and had halted, alarmed "by the
firing and cries in the grove. , v ‘

The assailant}; of, the camp had fled along the f
timber,'andimounting their horses had dashed
swiftly away beyond pursuit. V ' I a

“ What does all this mean?” called out the
youth, who had seconded Ned Tracey in his
fight on the bridge, and, addressing Frank, who
had halted at sight of them. ‘ , “

“It means that your friend came’with a .
band of other ruflians and attacked our camp,"
answered Frank, indignantly.

“No, no, Ned Tracey could not do such a
mean act as this,” cried a young girl on horse—.
back, riding forward, and whose escort the-
young bully had been.

“ He did do so, miss, and you’ll find him ‘
there in the woods, unable to get “my.” ‘

“ Wounded!” cried a dozen voices.

“ I shot to kill him,” was Frank’s reply, and
turning on his heel he walked back into the
grove, followed by George, leaving the whole
party overwhelmed with consternation. ‘

CHAPTER III.
m nor summon. ‘ -
Tun young man of the pleasure party, who .
had addressed Frank Powell, happened to
posseaspresenco of mind,und at 
promptly. ’. x ‘
“Continue on home, all pf you,” he said. 4,

 

.. ., V I,

 

 

  

 

, .

4' 

 Beaver, the Indian Medicine Chief

g.

 

“excepting you, Daritt, who had better remain
to aid me, as a doctor may have to be sent
for.”

“I will also remain, for I may be of ser-
vice,” said Bessie Vance, the young lady whose
escort Frank Powell had so severely punished,
and then said he had shot to kill.

She was the prettiest girl in the county,
and her father was the richest man, and as
she generally had her way, Hugh Dawson, the
young man who said he would remain, did not
attempt to oppose her.

So the party rode on, feeling strangely
gloomy after their night of merriment, while
Hugh Dawson, Henry Daritt and Bessie Vance

rode into the grove, and directly toward the .

camp-fire.

Upon reaching there they saw  Powell
bending over the form of her youngest boy,
who was tossing about, us though in great pain,
while Frank was looking over a surgical case,
by the light of the fire, upon which George was
throwing some wood.

In the background lay two forms cold and
still, and two others near by, and their deep
groans showed that they 'yet lived.

One of these was Ned Tracey. It was a.
thrilling, painful scene, and the three lockers-
on halted their horses in awe.

But Bessie Vance flrst regained her nerve,
and slipping from her saddle ran over to where
Ned Tracey lay.

He was conscious and recognized her, and

she gazed down upon his face, bruised and cut
as it was by his afternoon fight with Frank
Powell.
. One of his hands was held tightly upon his
side, and there was the wound he had received,
and, from his appearance, it certainly looked
"as though it might be fatal.

“ Oh, Ned! what have you not brought upon
yourself?” cried Bessie Vance, reproachfully.

“He shall die for this if I get well," was the
savage whisper of the revengeful youth, and

. Ehe young girl turned pale, arose from her
neeling posture by his side, and walked over
to where poor Billy lay.

“ Can I aid you, madam?” she said softly.

Mrs. Powell looked up, her handsome face
stem end her eyes flashing; but she recognized
\the maiden who had urged against the wrong
of I pushing them back from the bridge, and
who had told Ned Tracey he deserved what he

and smiling, she answered:
. “No, thank you, for my son will soon ex-
" tract the bullet from his brother’s leg.”
, “Your son?” asked the maiden, looking
around for the one who was to perform this

, feat of our ry.
“Yes, nk there; you remember him,
perhaps!“

' » Just then Frank Powell came up with a box
'of surgical instruments, and seeing the really
tarrified look upon the face of the maiden, Mrs.
Powell explained:

“ Oh, Frank has a natural talent for surgery
and medicine, and has been in a doctor’s office
since his ninth year."

And Frank certainly did seem to possess skill
far beyond his years, and to reassure the young
girl, said:

“Oh! I helped out a nigger’s leg of! once,
and have often dressed wounds, miss.”

Thus reassured she looked on, while with a
, nerve that was remarkable and a skill fully its

equal, he bared Billy’s leg, and anti-acted the
bullet in a. remarkably short‘time, after which
be dressed the wound carefully, while he said:

“ The bone isn’t broken, and, you’ll be all
right soon, Billy. ”

“, Now, may I ask you to look at my unfortu-
nate friend, as it will be some time before
Henry Daritt can get back with the doctor?”

“Certainly, miss, for I intended to offer,”
politely responded Frank Powell, while his
mother said:

I ‘_‘ I will fix beds for them, Frank.”

The maiden led the way to where Ned Tracey
lay, with Hugh Dawson by his side, telling

, him how skillfully i the boy surgeon had
dressed his brother’s wou , , ' ,

., ? ~ I, .

 

“ No, no, he sees his shot did not kill me, and
wishes to complete the work with his knife,”
said Ned Tracey as Bessie Vance approached,
followed by Frank and George, and all three
heard the remark.

“I am no murderer,” answered Frank, hot-
ly, and then he added:

“The doctor in whose office I worked gave
me this case of instruments, and said they
might come in useful some time, and they
have: but I don’t wish to trouble you,” and he
was turning upon his heel when Bessie Vance
cried:

“ Oh! but he may die, and perhaps you can
save him.”

Frank hesitated, for, bitter enemy though
Ned Tracey had proven himself, he was Willing
to do all in his power to save his life.

“ I’ll let him try, Bessie, if you say so,”
said Tracey, becoming more humble, as he felt
himself growing weaker.

Frank made no reply, but with George and
Hugh Dawson bore the wounded youth to the
bed of blankets Mrs. Powell had spread for
him in the tent, where Billy also lay.

Opening his vest and shirt Frank examined
the wound, and found it to be severe, but not
fatal, as far as he could judge.

The bullet had glanced. on a rib on the left
side, just over the heart, and probing it, be
traced its course up into the shoulder.

“ Here it is, and I can cut it out if you are
man enough to stand the pain,” said the boy
surgeon.

“ Go on, for I cannot suffer more than I now
am,” was the impatient reply.

Quickly Frank set to work, and with a.
nerve that has never since deserted him, out
the bullet out, the act wringing from the suf-
fering youth several shrieks of pain.

“Now it is over, and I’ll dress it and stop
the bleeding," he said, coolly, and few physi-
cians could have done it more tenderly than
did the boy. .

Taking from his medicine-case—a present
from his mother, who wished to encourage the
remarkable talent the boy had for medicine
and surgery—an opiate, Frank administered a
few drops to his brother and the wounded
youth, and then turned to the second of the
bend. oi'. assailants, who had fallen near Ned
Tracey, and who was groaning fenrfully.

Carefully examining the wound he said,
sadly:

“ I cannot help him.”

“0h, sirl must he die?” cried Bessie Vance,
addressing the boy as though he were a most
superior being. '

“ Yes, tor the bullet passed through his
body, miss, and it was George’s rifle mode the
wound.”

“But hear how he groans, IO try and help
him,” pleaded the maiden.

“ I would if I could, but he’ll Icon die."

She thought he spoke almost cruelly, but
glancing into his face saw that he was not
heartless, and then she asked:

“ Is Ned Tracey in danger?”

“ I think not, miss.”

Then they viewed the bodies of the two dead
men, and whom Hugh Dawson recognized as
bad characters in the village, who were said to
be ever ready for any wild, reckless work.

“ Let us dig their graves, George,” said
Frank.

“Better dig three, then, Frank, for he’ll need
one too,” and George motioned with his elbow
toward the dying youth.

The two brothers, aided by Hugh Dawson,
then set to work digging three graves upon the
river bank, and their task was just completed
when up rode Henry Daritt, accompanied by
the village doctor and the constable. .

The first duty of the doctor was to look at
the dying youth, and he said bluntly:

“ Humphl no need losing time here, for he’s
done for.” ‘

“ And a good riddanoo too, doctor, for he’s
one of the owl gang,” remarked the constable.

“ So I see; andtheee?”

, I “Some 0' ther same gang.”

I, ’.‘

 

“And no‘ need of my services either, for
they are dead.”

“Then the hangrnan are cheated.

“Who else 9” said the constable.

“ Ah! it is Ned Tracey,” cried the doctor.

“Yes, Doctor Gibbon, I got into a. little
muss; but I hope my wound isn’t serious,”
whined the youth.

“ I hev perdicted yer’d git inter trouble,
Ned, when I seen yer running with the owl
gang, playin’ keerds nn’ sich onrighteousness
doin’s; but durned ef yer don’t look as tho’ yer
bed been foolin’ with a. buzz saw.

“ Hes yer?”

“ You do look bruised up, Ned; but what is
it all about?” ,

“ Well doctor, a brush with some horse-
thieving emigrants, that is all, and we got
worsted; but I guess that boy will hang for it,”
and he pointed to Frank, who was about to
make an indignant reply, when Bessie Vance,
who had been with Mrs. Powell, stepped for-
ward and said quickly:

“Doctor Gibbon and Constable Carr, Ned
Tracey does not tell the truth, for his own not
brought all this trouble upon-‘him, and he is
answerable for the lives of those dead there.”

“Thar be hev did a favor, Miss Bessie,”
put in the constable. '

In a few words Bessie then told the story of
the bridge affair, and of what had followed,
and Mrs. Powell made known all about the at-
tack upon their camp.

“ Waal, waal, ef yer wasn’t ther son 0’ ther
jedge. 0" the cirkit, Ned Tracey, I’m durned of
yer w’u'dn‘t git jailed, ef not wuss fer this.

“ Yer pa are a honest man, an’ be hev spent
considerable dust tryin’ ter raise yer right,
but yer is a dead failure, an’ I only hopes Miss
Bessie heur, hain’t goin’ ter throw herself ter
ther dogs by marryin’ yer, as folks says she
are.” »

“No, Constable Carr, I have .no such silly
idea, for from to-night Mr. Tracey and myself
are as strangers. ‘

“ Hugh, can. I claim your escort home?” 31nd
the maiden’s voice quivered in spite of her
pride, for she had, in spite of his glaring faults,
cared a great deal for the reckless youth.

Bidding Mrs. Powell good-by, and shaking ,

bonds with Frank and his brothers, Bessie
mounted her horse and rode away, accompa—

l

nied by Hugh Dawson, while Henry Daritt re-‘ i

mained to aid the doctor and constable.

“Well, well, Ned, you are lucky ," said the
doctor, as be bent over the youth, and exam-
ined the wound.

“Well dressed, and the operation as good as
I can do. r

“You did it, youngster?”

“ Yes, sir,” modestly said Frank.

“ You are when: surgeon, boy, and there’s a 

place in my omce for you whenever you
choose to come. =
“You fired the shot, too?‘ . ,-
‘.‘ Yes, sir. " 
“Deadly aim that, and had the rib not ;‘
glanced the bullet, your toes would have been 1
turned up to the stars now, Ned Tracey. 
“Now letme see that little fellow; but j
there is hardly any use, i! you examined it, 3
my boy surgeon.” 1
“ I would rather have you look at the wound, 
sir,” said Frank, and Doctor Gibbon made a 
critical examination of Billy’s wound, and I
said:
“ It will keep him off of his pins for a week 
or so, but no other harm done. . 1
“Now, constable, what is to be done?” i
“Bury thet cold meat ther, Doc,” pointing 
to the dead ruifians, for the third one had just ‘5
died. , , ‘ 
“ And then?" . f
“Take Ned home in your buggy, I guess, ,‘

an’ of ther cox-’ner wants ter come ter-morrer: '

 

 

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all ther facts 0’ ther case.”  H
, And so it was decided, and Ned Tracey was
taken to the doctor’s buggy, and the party

started upon their return to the village, leaving I >

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' Frank and George Powell to bury the dead, as
the constable said: ,

“ Young pards, yer hev kilt ’em, an‘ it are
but right yer sh’u’d bury yer dead.

“Yer is right in this heur matter, an’ I’ll
pertect yer in it; but, of yer does’n't want
trouble, an’ yer’ll git it, for that is more of

V thet gang 0’ Owls left, my advice are ,ter jist
git for other parts.”

Neither Mrs. Powell nor her brave boys
wished for trouble, and after consigning the
dead to their graves they struck camp, and
like the Arabs: »

“ Folded their tents
And silently stole away."

 

CHAPTER IV.
THE DYING MISER.

SEVERAL years passed away, and we find
‘ the Powell family, after numerous adventures,
and many miles of roving over the States, new
east, now west, then south, and once more
north, again at the farm, under the shelter of
the homestead roof.

In that time Frank had been a devoted
student of medicine, and had picked up a
thorough knowledge of herbs and their uses,
until he becameknown far and wide as the
Boy Doctor. «

His room at home was a perfect apothecary

‘ shop, and might also be termed a curiosity
shop, for its walls were full of curiosities
gathered in his roamings, and bunches of dry

\ herbs, old bottles of medicines, with bones and
skulls, human and brute, filled the shelves.

As physicians, at that time in the neighbor—
hood where the boy lived, were scarce,,Frank
was sent for one night by an old manwho had
been taken suddenly ill. I

"Fhe patient was well along in years, and
lived on a small farm with only two servants,
an elderly couple to attend to all the duties of
the place. .

Rumor said the man was a miser, and al—
though he lived in a most economical manner,
had accumulated quite a large sum of gold, but
where he kept it no one knew.

He had one son, who had gone to the bad

, some years before, and been told he should
never return home again.

But the boy had come back home in rags,

bitterly repentant, and begged so piteously to
be allowed to remain that the father had
granted his request, and he it was who had
come over to the Powell home to ask Frank to
visit his father, whom he feared was dying.
, It was along way of! to where a physician
lived, and very likely he would be off on his
round of visits, so Frank bad mounted. his
horse and ridden back with the son.

He was known to farmer Nye, who said, as
Frank advanced to his bedside:

“I guess Death has got his gripe on me,
Frank, unless you know enough of medicine
to shake it off." “

Frank examined his patient as skillfully as
an old practitioner would have done, asked
many questions, and watched him closely while
One of the paroxysms was upon him.

' “Well, Frankywhat is it?" asked the old
farmer when the spasm was over,

Frank bent over and whispered:

“You-have been poisoned, sir.”

, “ Poisonedl” gasped the old man, turning
more livid than he had with pain,

“Yes, sir.” ’

“ But how can I have been poisoned?"

b You say you have eaten nothing, other

' V than your ordinary food?” 4

(i Yes. I,

“And who prepared that?"

“Old Mrs. West.”

Frank called her, but she could tell nothing
' to throw light upon the case, so he' gave'the
patient what he deemed best and awaited the
result,

5' Frank, can I live?” asked the patient,

feebly.

“No, sir. ', x
“ Then call West and his wife and—and-my
son."

I

l

\

 

They were quickly summoned to the sick
room, and the old man said: . l

“I want you all to know that I ‘leave my
farm and my money to charity, and this will I
tear up. "

He took from beneath his pillow a will and
tore it in fragments, although his son sprung.
forward to prevent it.

“My boy here I had forgiven for the past,
and two weeks ago I made my will in his fa-
vor.

“ To get my gold, as I would not die to
please him, he has poisoned me—”

“It is false!” yelled the young man.

“It is true; and Frank Powell, and you,
West, if my son Donnel Nye attempts to go to
law for my property, I bid you, on my dying
bed, have him arrested and tried as my mur-
derer.”.

“I will, anyhow,” said Dan West, the ser—
vant-man, blunt-1y.

“ No, it is my dying wish that you do not.

“ Let him go, and Donnel Nye, go while now
you can.

“ Go, sir!”

The young man tried to speak, but he saw
Daniel VVesb move toward him, and he turned
and fled from the room.

A moment after they heard him dash away
upon horseback, and Mrs. Wes't said, feelingly:

“Bad luck will follow him, sir, for we have
a boy who brought us down in the world, and
is wandering now God only knows where, and
may be dead for all we know.”

“ Let him go his way until the galloWs ends
his life,” sternly said farmer Nye, and then he
called for pen, ink and paper, and hastily wrote
a. few lines, leaving to Daniel West and his
wife the little farm, a. “ thousand dollars in
gold ‘to Frank Powell to carry him through a
medical college,” and the balance, some thirty
thousand, to a charity hospital in the town of

This gold, he told Frank, was in the chim-
ney-place in that room, andicould readily be
found by him, and that he and West were to
see that it went into the proper hands. ,

The Boy Doctor and faithful servants prom-
ised to carry out his wishes faithfully, and
soon ’after farmer Nye was dead. .

 

CHAPTER V.
THE DEATH-WATCHER.

WHILE Daniel West went to the nearest vil-
lage to get help to bury his old master, his
wife went to her room, in a. wing of the build-
ing, leaving Frank Powell a volunteer death-
watcher over the body. \ '

It was ’a. bleak, dismal night, and the wind
howled monrnfully about the house; hot,
young as he was death had no terrors for the
Boy Doctor, and he paced the room to and
fro, building up castles in the air'for the
future, and almost forgetful of the presence of
the dead. '

Midnight came and passed, and it Seemed to
Frank soon after that he heard a_cry some-
where in the building.

But setting it down as imagination, he
threw himself down in an easy~chair, tossed
some more sticks of wood into the large fire-
place, and settled himself comfortably for a.
nap.

How long he slept he did not know, but 'he
awakened to find he Was not alone with the
corpse. ‘ ,

The windOW, opening out upon the piazza,
had been cautiously raised, and a man stood
within, having just entered, and a second per-
son was just about to step through into the
room. ‘ '

Frank never moved, and tried to thin];
whether he was dreaming, or'really awake.

, A whisper assured him of the latter, for he
heard: .

“ I will end his days, if I cah reach him."

The corpse certainly was not the him referred-
to, and he must therefore be the, one whose
days were to be cut short. ' v

With his head on one side Frank could dis<

 

   

tinctly see both men, for there was a candle in I
the room, although the fire had burned low. ., .

When he left home he always went armed
with his revolver, not from fear of an attack;
but he had worn it so constantly in roving
about, he seemed lost without it, and besides
he was wont to'practice shooting as he rode
along, now at a bird, then at a. tree, and in
fact at anything that presented itself, until he
had become a dead shot. '~

He could have fired and killed the man in
the room, but he was determined to take the
chances and try to capture both. ' ‘

The one who was then inside the window he
saw was masked, or rather Were his handker-
chief over his face, and as the head of the
other came into the light, Frank saw that his'
countenance also was concealed in like man.
ner.

Coming there as they did they could be
after but one thing, and that was the mis‘er’s
gold. I ‘
Then he remembered the cry he had ‘ heard,
and no longer did he believe it imaginary, but
felt that it had been real.

All these thoughts flashed through his brain
like lightning, and in thefew seconds since his
awaking the second man had stepped into the
room.

Then the first drew along knife [and glided
toward the youth who was keeping the death.
watch over the corpse of the old miser.

Quick as a flash Frank was upon his feet, his
revolver leveled, and in stem tones he cried: '
“Drop that knife, or I will kill you." _

The two men were startled, it was evident,
but the intended assassin rallied quickest and-
made a. spring for the youth, just as the other
sprung from the window. ,

At this moment the wonderful nerve o
the youth did him good service, for anxious,
to get both, in spite of his danger from his
nearest foe, he fired upon the flying villain and
brought him down. ' p

The one almost upon him staggered back at
the shot, believing himselfhit, and springing
to one side, Frank cried: ,

“There lies your comrade!

“ Do you surrender!”

“Yes,” was the sullen reply.

“Then drop that knife.”

The order was obeyed. - \

“ Now step away from it.”

With a muttered oath the man did as order-
ed and Frank picked it up and said:

“New lie down, sir."

“I’ll be__»

“ Quick! for I have no mercy for you.”

Another oath and the villain obeyed.

Glancing around Frank saw only the sheets,
and these were quickly cut in strips and made

to serve as ropes, with which he proceeded to '

bind his prisoner.
Then he said:

“Now l’ll take a look at the face of am , 

who would rob a corpse.” '
He dragged off the handkerchief and beheld
a face young in years, but old in crime, and
stamped with dissipation. ' '
“Now I’ll see about your comrade,” and he

passed over to where the dead man lay, for he 

was dead, the bullet having pierced his brain.

Drawing oi! the covering that concealed the
face Frank Powell started back with a' cry» of
horror. ‘ v '

“Surprises you, I guess?” said the prisoner
with a sneer.

“It certainly does.”

“Well, the old man drovs him away from. Y
home without a shilling, so he came back to
get what he could, and we were to be pards.”

“ You knew him then?" v

“Yes, we were old chums, and I met him i

at Burke’s Tavern tonight, and he recognized,

me and begged metooome here and help   'i

in a little job.”

, “And this you call a little job?” sneered- *~
Frank. . ' , _ , .
“ Guess it has turned out a big one for both - ,‘ \
of us; but come, youngster, let me go,'and 1’11 ;“ "
do you a good turn some day." , ~. - 

i

'x

in

‘1

c
I,
,,

 

  

 

 

 

“ No, I’ll keep you for the law to settle with
-ahl there comes Daniel now.”

As Frank spoke the sound of wheels was

, heard without, and soon. after Daniel West
and several men entered. "

“ Good Lordy, Frank, what’s been going on,
for I found the old woman in a faint and tied
to her,_chuir, and-— Great God! my son! my
son !”

I The eyes of the old man had fallen upon the
. prisoner, whose head was now lowered, and he
sprung toward him with sorrow in his face.

“Yes, old man, I‘m your hopeful, and the
‘ law has got me at last, just as I was coming to
see you all.

“I hope mother isn't hurt, for we tied her
lightly, ” said the unfeeling youth.

“ And you tied your mother?” said the father,
in a low, trembling tone.

“Yes, but this youngster here will see that
you get revenge for it, as I’m in a bad way.”

f‘And what brought you here, sir?” sternly
said the old father.

“ Came with that chap to rob the till,” was
the cool reply.

“Hal Donnel Nyel”

" Yes,'that’s him."

“And dead?"

“ A blind man could see that,” was the in-
solent response of the reckless young man.

“ Let me explain,” said Frank, and in a few
words he told Daniel West and those who had
come with him all that had occurred, and the'
old man swore he would make no effort ‘to
save his son from prison.

" And he kept his word, and the reckless, sin-
ful young man was sent, upon the testimony
of his ‘own mother and Frank Powell, to the
Slate prison, while the Boy Doctor became a.
heroin the eyes of the community for a few
weeks, when a circumstance happened which

'3 called him away from home to strike out ,in

the world to carve his own fortune.

CHAPTER VI.

' DOCTORS IN DANGER. ,

THE circumstance alluded to in the preced-
ring chapter, which caused Frank Powell to

leave his home was the arrival, one evening, at
the homestead, of a. traveling carriage with
s;- reral gentlemen. /
Frank‘was returning home from gunning
late one afternoon, his pouch well filled with
5 game, when, a, carriage drew up, and halting
near him, a pleasant voice cried:
“My young friend, we are strangers in a
strange land, and would like to know of any
“hospitable farm-house near where we could
pass the night, and, in fact, stay over the
Sabbath?”
' “My mother would be glad to entertain
you, gentlemen,” said Frank, with a. courtly
r grace natural to him. '
‘ “ Indeed, I thank yo 1, so will you guide us
thither, and all costs will be cheerfully paid, I
assure you.”

Frank’s face flushed,
quickly:

“The tavern is six miles from here, sir, and
there you can pay for your accommodations.

“I 'asked you to be our guests, not our
boarders, and my mother does not sell her
hospitality, even to strangers.”

‘ {I beg pardon, my dear air, and will accept
your kind invitation with pleasure.

“You see we are a party of doctors circu-
lating about the country for a few weeks’
recreation, and have had to pay well for our
pleasures, so I mean tno offense.”

“ Doctors!" cried Frank, with real pleasure.

“ Yes, hona fide sawbones, all four of us.”

“Tth you are trebly welcome, for I am an
aspirant for medical honors myself.”

This was a kind of freemasonry sign be-
tween them at once, and ten minutes after the
carriage? rolled up to the comfortable house,
and Frank introduced his newly-found guests
to his mother.

7 “We have met before, sir," “said Mrs.
: Powell, offering her hand to a cherry-faced
gentleman with iron-gray hair. ,

 

and he answered,

 

i

.\/

 

whiteneavér; a... mean Medi'cme' chief“

 

""Indeéd, madam; am I so remiss as to have
forgotten you?” he said, politely.

“ Oh, yes, mother, it is Doctor Gibbon,” said
Frank.

“Yes, my name is Gibbon, and I am from
Kentucky.”

“1 do not wonder, sir,” said Mrs. Powell,
“ that you, fail to recall us, for we met you by
moonlight and firelight only, and—”

“By Heavenl you are the Powells?” cried
the doctor.

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah! I recall you now, and you have all
been often in my mind since the night you
gave that handsome whipping to Ned Tracey
and the Owl Gang of our village.

“Indeed, I am delighted to see you, and I
had intended seeing more of you, but you very
quietly departed that night, and covered up
your trail so well we failed to find you, though
you were sadly needed at the inquest held over
the deceased Owls.

“I am rejoiced to meet you again, Mrs.
Powell, and you have boys, especially Frank
here, whose surgery I have told my friends
about time and again. "

It was a pleasant gathering around the sup
per table that night, and the four doctors were
as delighted the following day in looking over
Frank’s “museum and curiosity shop ” as
though they had been examining the rarest
treasures lmown to medicine.

The Boy Doctor fairly astounded them with
his knowledge and the researches he had made
among herbs and plants.

Their visit extended over several days, and
when the doctors left Frank formed one of the
party, Doctor Gibbon having urged him to re-
turn with him to Kentucky and read medicine
in his office, where he should have every ad-
vantage. ,

Frank boxed up all his collections he wished
to,carry with him, addressed it to the doctor’s
care, and then the party started on their way,
the youth bidding farewell to his good mother
and brothers and the home he had loved so
well.

There were six seats in the traveling carriage,
and Frank occupied the one with the negro
driver, who was also the servant of the party,
and he directed the course through the most
beautiful parts of the country, and astonished
the quartette of doctors by ti 9 masterly man-
nor in which he drove the four-in-hand, for
there were four horses hitched to the vehicle,
splendid Kentucky thoroughbreds, that seemed
not to feel the twenty or thirty miles a day
they were being put to.

One day they were descending a. steep
mountain road that was washed by late rains,
and it gave Cyrus, the negro driver, all the
work he Wanted to hold the team back and
steer clear of th : ruts.

The party within saw their danger, shonlvl
anything break, and constantly warned 6
driver to be careful.

“ Be ready, Frank, should anything i a
way, for an upset here or breakdown w .d
be death for the doctors,” said Doctor Gib n.

That Cyrus was a good driver all knew or
what Southern negro is not a good horsen u,
but the continued had read fretted the twin,
the leaders began to behave badly and the
wheelers to get Worried, all of which made the
negro nervous.

Presently there came a loud snap, and the
pole broke short off.

“Whoa!” yelled Cyrus, as he attempted to
draw the wheelers back, losing his presence of
mind completely.

“ Let them go! it is our only chance,” cried
Frank, and seizing the whip he laid it upon the
frightened leaders, and then he grasped the
reins from the hands of the negro.

It was a bad road, as I have said, and along
distance yet down the hill; but the way was
str'aight, and all that Frank could do was to
keep the horses ahead of the vehicle, for the.
heels of the wheelers had already knocked the
dashboard into splinters. ', r

With a firm hand on the reins, and ordering

\

 

Cyrus to ply the whip, Frank held them down
the steep, with the doctors more anxious than
ever they had been over a case before in their
mortal lives.

Frank was calm, wholly himself, and his
eagle eyes were upon every rut in the road
and every mOVemc-nt in the horses.

He knew that the slightest turn would
upset the vehicle, for with no pole to guide the
front wheels it would be impossible to guide
it, and the traces must be kept taut to keep
them on the straight course. ‘ .

The horses were wild with fright, at the
lumbering vehicle behind them, and maddened
by the lash which Cyrus laid on diligently, at
the order of Frank Powell.

It was but a few hundred yards down the
hill, and they were going with lightning speed,
yet to all, whose lives hung in the balance, it
Seemed miles, and that the valley would never
be reached.

At the base of the bill was a bridge,
could see that it was narrow.

Would Frank guide the wildly flying team
safely across it, With only the reins and the
traces to do it.

Yet, it they doubted his ability not one of
them in the coach attempted to take the reins,
or ordered the well-tried negro to do so, and
he certainly shrunk from the responsibility.

With a crash like thunder the team struck
the bridge, and squarely too, and across they
dashed to the sandy bottom beyond.

Here Frank began to rein in, and talk to
them, and they were soon ready to slacken up
in the deep sand.

h Out jumped the doctors and grasped Frank’s
and:

“ Boy, you did nobly," said one.

“No one could do better,” cried another.

“The prettiest work I ever saw,” remarked
the third.

“Frank, that cool head and nervy hand of
yours are going to carry you through life to
some great end,” said Dr. Gibbon, while Cyrus
put in: ‘ I

“ Massa Frank, you done sabe de bosses,
wehickle, an’ all ob us, sah, an’ when we gets
ter ole Kentuck, I goin’ tar get Dinah, my
wife, sah, ter knit yer yer winter socks for
sabin’ old Cyrus’s life.”

Frank laughed lightly, {or the spirited and
dangerous dash had been fun to'his adventur-
ous nature, and taking the ax from the seat he
at once went to the woods to out another pole,
while the doctors set to work making a camp
for the night, and Cyrus devoted himself to

and all

his horses, scolding them all the while as. ‘

though they were human. ‘

 

CHAPTER VII.
A FOE wrrn A GOOD MEMORY.

THE village over which Dr. Gibbon presided
as chief medical attendant, was one of those
pretty little hamlets often found nestling away
in the valleys of the good old State of Ken-
tucky, and surrounded by a well—to-do class of
farmers.

It boasted its four churches, schools, score of
prosperous stores, t0wn hall, and numbered
about three thousand inhabitants, all of whom,

with a few exceptions, Dr. Gibbon “ dootored ”

for the ills that flesh is heir to. ,

These “exceptions” were those Who, for
various reasons, had taken up with a “new
doctor” who had hung out his shingle in the
village, and on which was inscribed:

“ Dooroa DUNCAN Enonconn,
“ Surgeon Dentist and Doctor of Medicine.
“ From Paris.”

This sign took with some people, especially
those who owed Dr. Gibbon largely for pro
fessional services, and were of that class who
never pay the doctor and the person.

The “From Paris,” also took with others,
and no questions were fortunately asked wheth-
er Dr. Duncan Edgecomb was from Paris,
France, or Paris, Kentucky, which latter place
was really the home of his nativity.

Upon the arrival of Dr. Gibbon and Frank

\

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

J

 town, after the absence of the other for two

'l.ZUl‘HhS, on his trip of recreation, he discovered

that Dr. Edgecomb had “ stolen ” considerable
oi‘ his practice, the people taking to his “new
school of treatment,” unmindful of the fact
that he had buried more patients with his

.iiuntwl practice in the time he had been a.

resident there, than had'Dr. Gibbon with his
extended practice.

Doctor Gibbon smiled grimly as he drove to
his home, after having heard of his rival’s
prwpcrity and said:

“ Frank, we’ll have to get to work, or we’ll
have only the old darkies to doctor.”

The home of the doctor was a very large
mansion, situated at one end of the town, and
surrounded by massive trees.

It had once been an academy, but failing as
a seat of learning, was left unoccupied for
years, and was said to be haunted.

Doctor Gibbon had purchased it for a' small
sum, and in one wing was his office and living
rooms, and those of his servants, Cyrus and
Dinah, for the doctor was a widower with no
failiin ties.

” Frank, this old rookery has some hd’lf-hun-
dred rooms in it, and you are welcome to take
your choice of them, and occupy as many as
you choose,” said the doctor, after they had
par-taken of a good dinner Dinah had prepared
for their coming.

Frank looked about, and settled upon the
furthest end of the building, where were two
rooms on the ground floor, and the very ones
which were said to be “ haunted.”

Here, with his traps, which he had for—
warded from home, he made himself comfort-
able, and began to look about his new sur-
roundings, while Doctor Gibbon looked after
the sheep who had strayed from his charge.

Mounted upon one of the doctor’s fine horses.
Frank dashed through the village, and rode in
the direction of the battle with the “ Owls,” on
the river-bank, for he wished to again look up-
on the spot.

He found it little changed in the three years
that had passed, saw the graves in the little
grove, the spot where they had encamped, and
then rode slowly homeward.

He had nearly reached the village, and was

gazing admirineg upon a handsome residence

upon a bill, when a carriage came out of the
grand gateway leading to the mansion.
The negro servant wore livery, and in the

{ carriage sat an elderly gentleman and a maiden

of rare beauty, whose face Frank at once
recognized. ~'

“ Father, it is the young, man,” he hedrd her
say, and the carriage was at once halted, and
the gentleman called out: ,

“ Pardon me, young sir, but are you the
protege of Doctor Gibbon?”

“My name is Frank Powell, sir, and '1 am
reading medicine with Doctor Gibbon," and
Frank spoke in his soft, pleasant way, at the
same time raising his hat. ,

"‘Gibbon wrote me he was bringing you
back with him, and if I mistake not, you have
met my daughter before—my name is Vance.”

“ I recognized Miss Vance, sir,” and as
Frank HPoke he grasped the outstretched band
of the maiden, who said:

“ And I knew you, Mr. Powell, though ybu
have changed since we last met,

“The doctor has written papa all about you,
and we will be happy to have you call with
him at our home.”

Frank raised his hat, and Mr. Vance, the
wealthy planter, repeating the invitation, the
carriage rolled on to soon after pass another
horseman.

But though the horseman was young, hand-
some, and evidently one of the aristocrats of
the neighborhood, neither Mr. Vance nor Bessie

bowed to him, nor he to them, yet the maiden

half-turned in her seat and gazed back after
him as hevpassed.

“ Why do you observe him, Bessie?” said her
father.

“ To see his meeting with his old enemy, sir,
and if he recognizes young Powell.”

 

4

White Beaver, therndian Medicine Chief. ‘ _ ._ 7

 

“Ah!” said Mr. Vance, and he too looked
back. -

Just then the object of their~couversation
met Frank Powell, and the two drew rein.

“ Why do you stop, sir?” haughtin said the
other to Frank.

“ My action was governed by your own, Mr.
Ned Tracey. ~

“ You drew rein, sir,” was the cool reply of
Frank. I

“ You know me then?”

it Yes.”

“You will know me better, now you have
come to our town to live.”

“ I have no desire to know you better, Mr.
Tracey.” ,

“ But I have a desire that you shall, and I
warn you we shall become better acquainted.”

“ Is tnf‘ a threat?”

a “As you please.”

“Then I warn you to keep clear of my
path.”

“ Bah! what care I for your warnings, if I
do carry the mark of your bullet upon my
body?

“You were the cause of Bessie Vance break—
ing with me, and you have come here with the
purpose of making her your wife, for you
know how rich she is.”

Frank laughed lightly, and said:

“Miss Vance is fully nineteen, and two
years my senior.” .

“ Bab! you lie if you say you are but seven-
teen, and——”

The words were checked by a stinging blow
across the face from the lash of Frank’s whip,
and the words: '

“ As you seem determined to have it war
between us,'Ned Tracey, war it shall be.”

The young Kentuckian, smarting under the
severe blow and the insult, quickly drew a
revolver; but before, he could use it, Frank
struck him on the wrist with his whip—handle,
and the weapon fell to the ground. '

“Good-afternoon, sir,” he said with mock
politeness, as he ,rode on, and then his face
flushed, as he saw that Mr. Vance and Bessie
had seen all that had occurred, for the carriage
had halted and was apparently waiting for
him to come up.

“ You have met your old enemy, it seems,
Mr. Powell?” said Mr. Vance.

“Yes, sir, and he is a foe with a good
memory, for he had not forgotten me,” an-
swered Frank with a smile.

“It looked serious for a moment, and Mr,
Vance was trying to get at the truth of the
meeting. '

“Ah, no, air, he gave me the lie and I
struck him, and when he drew a weapon I dis-
armed him.”

“Then beware of Nod Tracey, Powell, for
he is a wicked fellow, and has some of the
worst and most reckless spirits in town to back
him,” warned Mr. Vance. ‘

“Thank you, sir, I shall be on my guard,”
answered Frank, and he dashed on toward the
village, as the carriage turned off at another
road.‘

 

CHAPTER VIII.
nnvnnenrur. PLOTTINGS.

THE days at the Kentucky village passed
quietly along, and to the surprise of both the
doctor and his student, whom Frank had told
of the affair, Ned Tracey had taken no further
notice of him.

The new doctor, Duncan Edgecomb, and
Ned Tracey were bosom friends, and whenever
they met Frank were wont to talk loudly, and
laugh rudely: but they satisfied themselves
with this, and Frank hoped they would con«
tinue to do so. '

But he did not know Ned Tracey, if he
thought that he would pass over the insult of
their last meeting, .for he was no person to for-

.give or forget an injury.

His father being the judge had kept him out
of many a scrape, and the youngman con~
tinned his wild and downward course, having

1

 

been seen intoxicated often in the streets, and
was known to be a constant visitor'to“ the vi]-
lage tavern, where a company of kindred
spirits were wont to meet- and gamble nightly.

When Ned Tracey had first met Frank Pow-
ell at the bridge, he was engaged to Bessie
Vance, and under her influence was kept from
many a wild esoapade.

But that affair opened the eyes of the sensi-
ble girl to his true character, and she wrote
him a firm dismissal, and her father addressed
it to him.

Having embarrassed his own father by his
extravagant and reckless living, he had hoped
to get Bessie’s fortune to extricate himself
from debt and trouble, and therefore looked
upon Frank not only as one who had humiliat-
ed him, by whipping him on the bridge that
day, but also caused him to lie for long weeks
in bed from his wound, and then been the in-
direct one to break his engagement with the
maiden, whom he loved as well as one of his
nature was capable of loving. ,

Had Frank not come to the village, Ned
Tracey would have had to be content to nurse
his bitterness in secret: but coming there as
did my hero, that young scapegrace determined
to visit upon him a revenge that would be
something to gloat over, and in this decision .
he found a ready aid in the young doctor,
whom Tracey had helped in getting practice
among the wild spirits of the place.

“ If we could scare him in some way, so‘as
to make him a public laughing stock,” said
Ned to Duncan Edgecomb,” we might force
him to leave town, and then I can follow him
and get even in some way.” '

“ Don’t you think you could give him a
good thrashing in public?” suggested the young
doctor; v

u No.7) _

“ Why not.”

“ I am not able.”

“You are heavier than he is, and allsay
you are noted for your strength and activity.”_

“ That may be, but three years ago, when I
was as large as I am now, and that fellow
much younger, he gave me a whipping I have
not forgotten,” savagely said Ned Tracey.

“Yes, I have heard of that; but how about
picking a quarrel and settling it with some-
thing besides fists?” ,

“With arms, you mean?”

H Yes”

“ Challenge him ?”

“Yes, or make him challenge you." ,

“ He is a dead shot, as I also have reaéon to ‘~
know.” / - ‘

“Can’t we bribe some fellow to .be his
second?”

“ Well?" .

“ He could see that no bullet went in his
pistol.”

“ Ah! but who?”

“Almost any of your friends would do it
for a small stake.”

“ But he would not have him for a secon .”

“ Ah, we can arrange that.” '

a How?) V ' , "

“ Get atellow to pretend friendship for him,
become his chum, and be constantly. withlhim
for awhile, and then arrange the duel, and
that man, your friend secretly, will be chosen,
as his second.” « '

“By Jove, Edgecomb, you should have been
a lawyer.

“It’s a good idea, and I know the very’man
for my work. / , .

“He has joined the church twice and gone
astray as often, and last week he was preach-
ing temperance, but was drunk this morning,
and I can use him, for he needs money, I Well
know. ' ,

“ But first let us scare Powell in some way
to humiliate him.” ' l

“ That can be done too.” , I

“ But how?” ’ r J ‘ I

“I’ll think up soune way,” said the “wily

'young doctor, and the two parted, Ned Tracey

happy in having plotted to avenge himself
upon Frank Powell. _ _' * ,

l i .‘ i

 

 

. rang“...  q...  .... .. .i. ... _., ‘.

 

Iv,‘ ‘,..I’. I, \

"were-Beater. the mats. medicine one;  7 j 4.

 

‘ CHAPTER IX. .
‘ A GEOSTLY VISITOR.
ONE afternoon a storm swept over the vil-

- lage, and it left a. wreck of a church that was
being built and made half a dozen widows, for

Ias many workmen were killed, and as many
more wounded.
Doctor Gibbon was at once on hand, with

I Frank as his assistant, and until a late hour

‘ they were kept busy with the injured.

I Then they wended their way homeward

., I through the bowling storm, and just at mid
 ’ in night Frank sought his lonely rooms.

.' The winds howled mournfully without, and
" , the scenes he had just witnessed, somewhat im-

' pressed the youth, and he hastened to strike a
light.

’ But, to his surprise his matches could not be
toucd,,and be determined to go to bed in the
dark, rather than put on his overcoat to go to

. ' the doctor’s room, for he could not pass through

' .I \ the old mansion.

Undressing himself he laid ‘down to sleep,
the lightning now and then flashing, alone giv-
ing him light.

He was dozing off to sleep, in_ spite of the

’ noise of the storm, when he awoke at some
‘sound that startled him.

I Without moving he lay perfectly quiet,

lawaiting for the lightning and listening.
‘ ,H » Soon it came, and even his iron nerves gave
a twitch, for standing in the doorway leading
3, to his curiosity room, plainly revealed was a
- ‘ skeleton form. ,
'Again he waited, and once more came the
I lightning; and he distinctly saw the skeleton,
 ' its long bony arms swinging to and fro, and
 v  I~the rattling sound made by them most fearfully
‘ ' audible.
I . Frank Powell was no believer in ghosts, but
i  I in‘spite of himself he trembled, for he knew
‘ " . ‘ that he was wide awake.

To Convince himself that he was really awake

he sat hp in bed and asked in a stern voice:
. \I “,Well, who are you?”‘, '

. No answer mine, only the rattling of the
 bones,” though the skeleton was shaking with
, laughter at the living questioning the dead.

3- -"Just then there came another flash, and it

.v seemed to fill the room with a red flame, and
‘ leave a: strange odor after it, while Frank
 Powell distinctly beheld behind the skeleton,

.and further into the room where were his
curiosities, another form, white, vapory-look-
r ing, and most ghostly. .

“Well, all my old bones are on a lark it
‘1 seems,” he muttered, still unterrifled, though
7 mystified and nervous for witnessing that
which he could not account for.

> :5 In his room of curiosities were a number of
skeletons the doctor had given him, with
v . which to prosecute his studies, and it did seem
was though these were all on the rampage, and,
after the occupation of aiding Doctor Gibbon
in, his work to the injured, added to the fearful
stern), it was enough to upset the nerves of the
I,~ greatest scoiier at ghostly visitants to this

J earth.» .
~ I His room had been locked, and he kept the
a -, key in his pocket,Iand the doctor was-with
I him all the afternoon, so it could be no joke of
"/ his and both Cyrus and Dinah stood in too
~ holy terror of that part of the old building to
attempt such a thing, even had they been
willing to frighten him.

- , So how could he account for the strange
' visitation of a skeleton and a. ghost.

’ ‘ In aholster hanging at the head of his bed
,. , Frank always kept a revolver, and instinctive-

 “ 1y he reached. torth his hand and grasped the
‘ weapon. ,

‘~ , Then after waiting an instant, he said stern-

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

   
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
   
 
   
   
   
 
 
 
    
   
  
 

.

1y: v
“If this is a joke let it end, or I will fire.”

 No answer; only the same rattling of the
’ » bones; and then followed the flash of lightning,
I and once more the skeleton and ghostly forms
“were revealed, and the arms of both were
waving wildly.

j “By Heavenl‘but I will fire,” cried Frank,
and he leveled the weapon, pulled trigger, and
v " < r ’ . , v»

the flash and report came together, ringing
loudly through the chamber.

But once more a vivid flash revealed that
the ghostly visitors still remained, apparently
unharmed, and still kept up their monotonous
swinging of the arms.

Again and again did Frank Powell fire, un<
til the revolver was emptied, and yet with no
apparent effect.

Rendered desperate, he sprung from his bed,
seized a shot-gun, and poured its contents into
the skeleton form, and it was loaded with buck-
shot, Frank never having drawn the load or
tired it ofi’ since his coming to the village.

Then followed a fearful rattling of the bones,
a wild cry and a. heavy fall.

“Great God! what have I done?

“That cry was human," said Frank, and
hastily drawing on,his clothes, he ran to the
doctor’s wing of the building and knocked
loudly.

“Well, whois it?”

“Frank.”

“ Are you sick, my boy?”

“ No, sir, but I have shot a ghost.”

“Shot 9. what?”

“ A ghost.”

“Boy, your brain is turned,” and the doctor
opened the door.

“ N 0, Sir, though I wonder why it is not.

“Come, doctor, for there is something gone
terribly wrong in my room.”

Dr. Gibbon rung loudly for Cyrus .and
dressed quickly, while Frank lighled a lantern.

Then they started, Cyrus following behind
with chattering teeth.

Through the densely grown walks they went,
around the long mansion, and ascending the
steps of the little porch, Frank took out his
key and opened his door, for he had locked it
after dim when he left, notwithstanding his
haste.

The youth stepped boldly in with his lantern,
followed by the doctor, with Cyrus bringing
up the rear, armed with a musket and another
lantern.

“Well, things look bad here, that’s a fact,
Frau "said the doctor. ‘
The sight the lanterns revealed was a strange
one. I

The room was in considerable “disorder, and
‘ank’s revolver lay on the floor it here he had
dropped it after firing, and the shot-gun on the
bed where he had thrown it.

In the door leading to the curiosity-room
was a badly shattered skeleton, upheld by
ropes fastened to the tops of the shelves, on
either side, and behind this lay a form clad in
white, but with the shroud-like garment
stained red.

Instantly Frank sprung to this form, and ut-
tered a. cry of horror as be dragged oil? the
shroud. '

It revealed the face of the young doctor,
Duncan Edgecomb. I

“ By Heaven!” gasped Doctor Gibbon.

“He is dead, sir,”isaid Frank Powell, calmly,
though his lips quivered.

“ Gor ’mightyl' I guesses he raal ghost now
hisself, so he won’t hab ter play one,” cried
Cyrus. ‘

“Yes, he is dead, Frank, and the buckshot
in the shot-gun did it.”

“But where are my pistol shots, sir, for
there are no marks on this case?” said Frank.

“I think I can understand it all, Frank.

“ He arranged this plot to frighten you."

“ But yer didn’t scare, did yer, Massa
Frank?"

“Yes, Cyrus, I was frightened, I admit, and
I shall regret to my dying day this night’s
act. ‘

“ I did not like the man, but I wanted not
his life on my hands, and I do wish I had run
on him and captured him.” ' ‘

“ And been killed for your pains; for see, he
.was armed with both knife and revolver, and
besides I am convinced he was not alone, for
see, the window is open.”

It was evident that some one had made their

 

escape by the window, when Frank went after 4

’l 'l
..,...,,,._’__ I

‘l ». .w

/  ,,I/.

 

the doctor; but a pavement of brick beneath,
would prevent his leaving any footprints that
might be traced.

Duncan Edgecomb lay in a heap, his breast
torn by the buck-shot and stone dead, envel-
oped in his ghostly garment in which he had
sought to frighten Frank Powell.

It was a cleverly devised plot, ,arranged
when Frank was absent, and the pistol-bullets
had been drawn out, the match-safe hidden,
and the shot-Jun forgotten.

The town ollicers were at once sent for, and
all the rest of that night a group of men tallied
over the strange aflair, and in the morning a

coroner’s jury sat on the case, and their ’deci- .

sion was about equivalent to “served him
right for playing ghost.”

But there was one thing they could not find
out, and that was who had been the doctor’s
ally.

But Frank Powell had found in his room a.
cuff, in which was a sleeve-button that told the
story; but the secret he kept to himself, until
a few days after he met the owner race to
face, and said politely:

“Permit me, Ned Tracey, to return your
sleeve-button, which you left in my room the

night you played ghost and cost poor Doctor

Edgecomb his life.” '

Ned Tracey turned deadly pale and grasped
the sleeve-button quickly, while he said,
savagely:

“’ Do you dare accuse me, sir, of having been
with Edgecomb that nightt"

"I do, though I thought it not Worth while
to so inform the coroner’s jury. ”

“Frank Powell, those words lay another
debt in my heart against you,” hissed the
young man, but Frank laughed lightly and
passed on his way, fully determined to watch
his enemy more closely, for he felt that he
was one who would stoop to any act to carry
out his revenge.

CHAPTER X.
THE TOURNAMENT.

THE months rolled by in the Kentucky vil-
lage, and still Ned Tracey took no public notice
of Frank Powell, and in fact, was never heard
to speak of him.

The young student had, in the mean time, not
only become very popular with the villagers,

but was an honored guest at the elegant home ‘

of Mr. Vance, where the doctor Was wont to
take dinner once each week. and Frank was
included in the invitation.

While the doctor and Mr. Vance played

cards together, Frank and Bessie were wont to
amuse themselves at chess, or in singing
together. ‘ ‘ ,

Frequently, too, the maiden had Frank as an
escort for a horseback ride, and he had been
introduced to many good people through his
friendship with the Vance family.

But Frank was a devoted student, and he V

seldom went anywhere Iexcepting to the house
of Mr. Vance, and here he felt at home. '

If he had learned to love the beautiful maid-
en, he had the good sense to hide his feelings
from her, as she was several years his Senior,
a brilliant hello in society, an heiress, and t, n a
who could make a match among the great men
of the day.

The youth she treated as she would a brother,
and still the villagers predicted a Imatch, and
Doctor Gibbon hoped for one, and urged it in
his quiet way.

A tournament was announced as to occur at
the village, and all the youth of the neighbor-
ing country were to enlist, it was said, to
struggle for the prizes.

Frank was urged by Bessie to form one of
the'number, but excused himself upon the plea
of being called away from town for a few days,

and she was really disappointéd, for, she knew.

he was one of the finest riders that could ap~
pear there. , i

The day for the“ tournament at last came

round, and all the youth and beauty, old age.

and chivalry of the village and the surroundlv
ing country for miles were present.

4..) .. o. .‘

 

 

 

 

-yrvv . -/ V.  "

Then the knights were called to struggle for
the prize, the one who proved himself the 'best
horseman' winning a splendid horse, saddle,
bridle and spurs, and the honorpf crowning
the maiden of his [choice the Queen of L0ve

' and Beauty. ~ ,

Some forty gallant young gentlemen, splen-
didly mounted and equipped, entered the lists
as their names were called, and among them
was one mounted upon a wiry black mare,
wild as a deer, and who was announced as
“The Knight of the Red Mask.”

He was dressed in a complete Mexican suit,
the handsomest of all present; had a slender
but sinewy form, and were a red mask that
completely concealed his face, and fastened to
his broad sombrero in the back, even kept out
of sight his hair, so that recognition was impos—
sible.

The tests consisted of some most dangerous
feats of horsemanship, such as jumping the
horses over fences, ditches, and other acts to
show the thorough and fearless rider.

One after another the knights had a trial,
and their deeds won rapturous applause from
their admirers, for one only of the number
wore masks, and he was the one above referred
to and last on the list.

At the signal for him to enter the arena
there was a murmur of suppressed excitement,
for no one could pierce the red mask and tell
whose face was behind it, and what would he
be able to do, was the question.

As he dashed into the arena his first act was
to hurl his broad sombrero far ahead of him,
dash forward like the wind, and bending from
his saddle to pick it up with the greatest ease,
a feat that won tremendous applause.

Then springing to the ground he let his horse
loose, and whirling a lariat around his head,
sent it over the head of the flying animal, while,
springing around a post, he let the rope become
taut, and brought the beast backward on his
haunches, and was again in the saddle before
any one suspected his intention.

Then over ditches and fences his splendid
black mare leaped, and after one round he
sprung to the ground, ran alongside his mare,
and with one hand upon the mane, the other
upon the saddle, again made the daring leaps,
after which he dashed at full speed, to the
judge’s stand, and suddenly came to a dead
halt rwith a quickness that was marvelous, and
raised his broad sombrero. ’

Others had ridden splendidly, but there was
hardly adissenting voice as to who had won
the prize, and the judge called out that to him

. it would be awarded, ending with:

“Now, Sir Knight of the Red Mask, seek
your Queen of Love and Beauty."

The knight dismounted, sprung nimbly up
the steps to where sat a bevy of beauties, and
bowed low before Bessie Vance, and a round
of applause proved that he had well chosen.

Accompanied by the four other knights, who
were next best in the list and had the selection
0? the maids of honor, the unknown rider led
his queen to the throne, and as she knelt upon
the stool at its toot, placed upon her head. the
crown of exquisite flowers, which Bessie Vance
had herself made as an offering, not dreaming,
 he? 10W}? mOdBBty, that she would wear

iem.

As she took her seat on the throne she bit
her lip slightly at seeing that the first maid of
honor had been chosen by Ned Tracey, who
smiled coldly as he caught her look of chagrin.

, “ Now, Sir Knight of the Red Mask, it is
the decision of the judges that you unmask,
that we may behold what manner of man you
are," called out Mr. Vance, who was chief

Jud e.

Tghe knight bowed low, raised his hands to
his mask, and amid breathless silence removed
‘ it.

Then awild burst of applause was heard,
for the handsome, daring face of Frank Powell
was revealed I

A hitter curse was smothered between the
teeth of Ned Tracey at this discovery, while

' .' '\ Bessie Vance seemed delighted, and extended

 

her hand in congratulation for his triumph,
while she said: " '

“ I thought you said you had to go away?"
‘ “ I did, Miss Bessie, to the city for my horse
and costume; but I did not say I WOuldrnot re-
turn.” ‘ ‘

The’ queen having been crowned, the next
feature of the tournament was rifle and pistol
shooting, and the first to shoot was the vio-
torious knight. /

His rifle shots were straight to the bull’s-eye,
and could not be beaten, and but one equaled
them. ,

In shooting off the tie, Frank did the same
again, and his competitor failed in “two out of
the five shots allowed, and the prize was given
to him and presented by the queen.

Then came the pistol shooting, and once
more it was evident to all that Frank Powell
was to win, for he fired with almost lightning
rapidity the six shots, and placed all of the
bullets in the dead center of the bull’s-eye.

When it came to Ned Tracey’s time to shoot,
he seemed nervous and handled his pistol
awkwardly, a strange thing for him to do, as
be was known to be a crack shot.

Then he stepped to the mark, the cap snapped
on the first shot, and in removing it, the weapon
exploded and Frank Powell staggered back-
ward and a cry of alarm arose.

But he quickly recovered himself, unfas-
tened his belt, and said in distinct, loud tones:

“Ned Tracey, here I say that that shot was
intended and not accidental, and this buckle
alone saved my life.”

“Liar!” yelled Ned Tracey, and he sprung
toward Frank Powell, who dealt him a sting—
ing blow in the face that sent him to earth
half-stunned.

“A knight who would insult a brother
knight is unworthy the name, and is at once
expelled from the tournament,” said Mr. Vance
in loud tones.

, “What say you, judges?” ‘

A shout of affirmation went up from the
crowd, but one of the judges demurred by
saying:

“ But Powell made the first charge.”

“And a true one, for I saw all of Ned
Tracey’s maneuvers and am willing to take
oath he intended that shot to, kill Frank
Powell,” replied Mr. Vance. '

' “ Enough, then, let him be expelled.”

And then from the tournament Ned Tracey
was ordered to go; but he muttered threats
loud and deep against Frank Powell, which
caused many to believe he had intended to kill
his old foe under cover of a. pretended acci‘
dent.

 

CHAPTER XI.
THE DUEL PLOT.

THE tournament, excepting the interruption
caused by Ned Tracey, passed off well, the ball
following was a grand success, and through all
Frank Powell was the hero.

Those who knew Ned Tracey, felt that he
would hold Frank responsible for the blow
given in public, and all wondered how the duel
would be fought, and who would be killed.

The following morning Frank was seated in
his room, studying hard to make up for lost
time, when a friend dropped in to see him.

His name was Ferd Farley, and he had been
a pretty wild fellow in his time, but had re-
formed of late, and had taken a great fancy to
Frank, often coming to see him.

His great liking for him had interested Frank
in him, and they became pretty good friends,
though it seemed a friendship more sought on
the part of Farley than Powell.

“ Well, Frank, I congratulate you, as you
know, upon your triumph V yesterday,” said
Ferd Farley, breaking in upon Frank’s studies.

“Thank you, Ferd, and sit down, for I have
got something to study out just now.

“ There are books, so amuse yourself as best
you can,” answered Frank.

Farley was quiet for toll halfyan hour and
then‘said; \ ‘ r ‘

9 5 ' white Beaver,.1ndiea-Medicine,¢hiéfi 

kill you.”

. here.” ’r

 

q

. I ‘ l

"Isay, Frank, don’t you think you were a
little hard on Ned yesterday?” .

“You refer to Ned Tracey?”

“ Yes.”

“ At the tournament?" ‘

“Yes, when you charged him with intentrto

I

“ Do you see that buckle?”

“I do.” ‘

“There the bullet is imbedded in it.”

“ So I see. ” '

“ The rule was for all to point their weapons
in the opposite direction, and I stood almost

behind Tracey, and I watched him closely, and '

I saw him turn, fumble with the weapon, and
when it was aimed at me, as well as he could
aim it, I saw his finger touch the trigger."

“Well, I believe you then. '

“But I really hate to feel ill toward any
man now, though once I was not so particular.
h “ But it is strange you have not heard from

im.” ~

“Why should I?” l

“ Don’t you expect him to call you out?”

“I have not thought of it, as he has al-

lowed other occasions to pass by without doing ‘

so.”
“ You take it cool.”
“ Why should I worry?”
“ Tracey is a dead shot.”
“ So am I.” .
“He is cool under fire, for when we were
friends, Iseconded him in his duel with poor

,

Wharton, whom he shot dead, hitting him .

square in the forehead.”

“ And Wharton did not fire, I believe?”

“ No, he had not time.”

“ He should have been quicker,” said Frank,
dryly, and then, hearing a knock at his outer
door be sung out:

“Come in!” v

In response the door opened, and in stopped
a man known to be the chum of Nod Tracey.

“ I expected it.

“ It is Wilmer Hodges,” muttered Ferd Far~
ley.

Frank rose in his pleasant way, and said, -
politely: r v V

“ Mr. Hodges, I believe?”

“ Yes, and you are Frank Powell?"

(3 I am.” ,

“ I have a letter} for you.”

“Thank you; be seated while
please.” ‘ ‘

I read it,

The young man, adissipated, haggard faced 1

young spendthrift, bowed, sat down and hand—
ing the letter to Frank, glanced curiously
around the room at the numerouS‘trinkets.

curiosities and treasures, with a shudder at the

Doe I

skeletons and skulls.
“This is the room in which you 

Edgecombl” he said, curiously. ] '
‘6 Yes.” . ‘ »
“ I should think you would be afraid to

“ Why so?” ‘

“ On account of the phantoms it wouldcon-
jure up.” ‘ I ‘

“ Oh, that does not trouble me, though I

never think of poor Doctor Edgecomb withoum

a regret that he should have been so rash.”
And then Frank opened the letter and glans»
ing at it, said:

pose?”
“I do.” '

“ Mr. Tracey writes me, Ferd,

yesterday, or fight him.” '

’ “Which will you do?” '
“I am surprised at your question, Ferd.”
“You will fight him then?”
“I am not one to back down from a stand

sleep. ,

“You know the contents of this note, I supi”

that I must; ‘
give him a written apology for my conduct of *»

 

I have once taken, you can tell Ned Tracey, ~ ' L

Mr. Hodges, and as I believe the charge ‘I made,

against him, I will stick to it.”

‘V‘Theu, in his name, I demand. that you, 

meet him.”
“As he pleases." ‘
“ When and where?” . V ’
‘f To-nlght at sunset)? I

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

3:10 I

. \
.,.

 

 , I ' the

1‘ ’ =‘.\

Indian Medicine

\ v

chief: ’ r
3,

 

 

2‘ And where?”

“In the cemetery.”

“ Any particular spotl"

“ Yes, at the grave of one of his victims.”

“ I do not understand you.”

“ He means at Wharton’s grave,” suggested
Fred Farley.

“ You are mistaken, I mean 'at the grave of

, Doctor Edgecomb.”

“ Ah! he was a friend of Ned’s,” said Hodges.

Frank laughed lightly, and Wilmer Hodges
asked:

“What weapons are your choice, for you

have the right to choose, as the challenged

party 24" I
“Revolvers at fifteen paces, and Ferd, may
I ask you to serve me as seconds”
“ Williugly, Frank, and as I am going down
the street, I will walk with Hodges, and we

‘can arrange all satisfactorily.

“ When shall I call for you?”
“I will meet you there, just before sun-

 set,” was the cool reply, and the two young

men departed, and Wilmer Hodges, when out

_ of the grounds said:

,“ Well, I guess Ned will have it all his own
way thistime.”

“ Yes, but it seems a pity to kill such a fine
boy, for I really begin to like Powell.”

“ Bahl if I understand it, Ned’s gold is
worth more to you than Frank Powell’s friend-
ship.” .

“ Yes, for I need money just now, as. .you

do, Wilmer.”

“And we’ll get it, for I am to be let off with

V, the ,debt I owe Ned, and get a. few hundreds

besides.” . '

“ Whatis your stake?”
. “ I agreed with Edgecomb for five hundred
on .the day of death and as much more after
burial. ,

“ ThoSe were my written terms, and Ned
tried to Jew me down, but I stuck firm, and I
guess both you and I know who will stake us

1 often this if we go broke."

. “Who?”
’ “Why, Ned Tracey, you dance; for can’t
we put the screws on him, knowing what we
do?”

“Yes, and. get arrested for accomplices.
You better go slew with Ned, Ferd Farley,”
and the two villains separated, to meet again
at the rendezvous at sunset.

Y

 

CHAPTER XII.
A STRANGE DUEL.

‘ “FIRST here, at; any rate,” said Frank Pow-

ell, as he rode up to the cemetery fence on the
black were he had bought for the tournament.
Hitching the animal he sprung nimbly over

.the fence, and wende'i his way to a spot well

known to him, for he had passed by the grave
of Duncan Edgccomb many a time.
,Sorne one, no person seemed to know who,

r not even the old gravedigger in charge of the

,yard, had erected over the grave of the young
doctor a marble slab.

It had been hauled there ina wagon by
night, and quietly and secretly placed over
the grower. ‘ ‘ ‘
, Some suspected that it was the work of a
“young girl in whom the young physician had
seemed much interested, and whose interest
Was fully returned, it was said.

But as she had been the gayest of the gay

since, only shedding a tear or two at the fu-
, neral, her actions seemed to belie this report.

Upon the slab was engraVen:

“In Monioriam.
DUNCAN EDGEC‘.)MB, M. D., ‘
, Died November 15th, 18—.
May his soul rest in Peace,
I is the wish of
The Friend who places this tablet above
his grave."

“That is a conscience monument, I verily

 believe, erected by Ned Tracey," said Frank
., Powell, as he gazed 'upon the marble, as he

stood'with head uncovered by the side of the

d , grave of the man he had shot.

 

Presently another horseman rode up, hitched
his horse and joined Frank at the grave.

It was his second, Ferd Farley.

“ Well, Frank, you have got nerve, to stand
here coolly gazing upon the grave of the man
you killed,” said Farley.

“I do not hold myself responsible for the
act, under the circumstances,” was the quiet
reply.

“ Have you brought your pistols?” asked
Farley. ‘ ‘

“The revolver I intend to use, yes.”

“Well, when the others come I will load it
for you,"and if you aim as you did at the
tournament, you’ll kill Ned.”

“ For one reason I shall aim true?"

“And what is that?"

“To save my own life.”

“ Of course, for Ned means to kill you,
Hodges told me; but here they come.”

Just then up rode Ned Tracey and his second,
and a moment after the two approached the
grave, each bowing coldly.

Frank nodded indifferently, and the two
seconds stepped aside together fora moment,
and then Ferd Farley said: '

“ I will trouble you for your pistol, Powell.”

“For what purpose?”

“ To load it.”

“It is loaded.” ‘

“But it must be loaded on the field, you
know.”

“ No, I do not know,” was the dry reply.

“ Yes, the second of Tracey must see me
load your Weapon, as I must see him load his.”

“But I loaded each of the six chambers
most carefully before I left home,” urged
Frank.

“ Thjs is trifling, Frank, and we’ll get a bad
name,” whispered Farley.

“Why?”

“ They’ll say you wish to avoid a. meeting.”

“But I do not.’7

“ Then let me have your pistol, and I will ‘
fire it off and reload it, though the firing will
doubtless bring old Speedwell, the grave-digger,
upon us.”

“ No, I will not give it to you.

“ It is loaded, and I am ready, if you step
off the fifteen paces.”

“Great heavens! do you doubt me?” cried
Ferd Farley, nervously, while Wilmer Hodges
asked: ‘ '

“What is the delay, Mr. Farley?”

“ My principal refuses to have his pistol re—'
loaded.” *

“He must” -.

“Pardon me, but by what right do you
dictate to me, air?" and Frank’s eyes flashed as
he turned them upon Wilmer Hodges.

“ By the right of protecting the interest of
Mr. Tracey,” he answered, boldly.

“Ah! but I have a reason for wishing my
weapon to remain as it is.”

“Name that reason, Powell, for I have a
right to ask it,” said Farley, in a tone of
bluster.

“I will name it as soon as my surgeon, I see
coming there, arrives.”

“Your surgeon?”

The words broke from the lips of all three in
amazement.

“Yes, my surgeon.”

“Nothing _was said of this,” said Wilmer
Hodges, in a tone of indignation.

“ True, but no objection was made to a
surgeon, and so I asked mine to meet me here,
and he will place himself wholly ut the service
of Mr. Tracey, whom I intend shall stand moré
in need of his services than shall I."

“It is old Doc Gibbon,” muttered Ferd
Farley. ‘ .

“Yes, and he‘ll veto the meeting," said
Wilmer Hodges.

“By heaven! the coward arren ed this to
sneak out of a meeting,” cried Ne Tracey, in
a tone loud enough to be heard by all.

“You are mistaken,'sir; my surgeon came
at my request to aid me, and he will not inter-
fere in this meeting—will you, Doctor Gibbon?”

The doctor had now arrived upon the sperm

, .

 

adjusted his gold spectacles, glanced from One
to the other, nodding pleasantly, and said:

" I am a little late, I see, young gentlemen.”

“ Better late than never, doctor,” answered
Frank, pleasantly.

“ What did you ask me, Frank, just as I
came up?”

“ Mr, Tracey suggested that you ,came to
prevent me from meeting him, and I asked if
it was your intention to interfere?”

“ By no means, for I would miss a large fee
from Judge Tracey, for attendance upon his
profligate son, whom I am confident will need
my services within the next few minutes.

“ Let me‘not detain you, young gentlemen."

“ We are ready, sir, but Mr. Powell refuses
to allow his pistol to be reloaded,” said Wil-
mer Hodges.

“ Right is he too,” bluntly replied the doctor.

“How so, sir?”

“ He knows you.”

All gazed at him indignantly, and Ned
Tracey said, savagely:

“Your gray hairs alone protect you, Doc«
tor Gibbon, from my anger.”

“ Bah! don’t let my gray hairs make you
miserable, Ned, but go on with your work,
and let me see what I will have to do.”

“Now, gentlemen, I will tell you my reason i
for not having my pistol reloaded here,” said
Frank Powell, in his soft, quiet way.

“We will hear you, sir,” coldly responded
Wilmer Hodges.

“ It is because I know my second to have
sold himself to Ned Tracey. ”

All three turned deadly pale, and the accused
man tried in vain to speak, for he gasped, yet
uttered no word.

“ Do you mean—” indignantly began Ned
Tracey.

“ I do mean what I say, for here is a letter
in your own writing, Ferd Farley, telling
Doctor Edgecomb, who lies in his grave, your
terms for forming an intimacy with me, so as
to become my second in a duel Ned Tracey
was to force upon me, so you could load my
pistol with powder only, and thus let me {all a
victim to his deadly aim—hold on, sir, or I will
drop you in your tracks.

“Doctor, will you kindly keep an eye upon
him, while I oblige Mr. Tracey?” and Frank
Powell smiled as sweetly as though he had
asked the most simple query.

“ I will, Frank, and if he winks, he’ll never
leave this place alive,” said the doctor, draw-
ing a revolver from his pocket. '

“Now, Mr. Hodges, kindly step off the dis-
tance and if you now insist that my revolver
shall be reloaded, Doctor Gibbon will see that
it is discharged and properly recharged.”

“ I do insist, then.” . '

“ Here, doctor, is a weapon that, is unloaded,”
and Frank laughed in his low, musical way, at
seeing how he had thwarted his enemies, by
not placing himself in their power by allowing
his loaded weapon to be taken from him.

The doctor took the weapon and quickly
loaded one barrel of it, while Wilmer Hodges
performed a. like duty for Ned Tracey, Ferd
Farley, with bowed head and pale face seem-
ing perfectly crushed. ’

“ Now the distance is correct,” said Wilmer
Hodges, nervously, and he turned to Ned Tracey
at the same time handing  the weapon he
was to use, and whispering: /

“ Fire quick, for you know his aim.”

The toss for the word was Won by the doc-
tor, and the two duelists, the man and the boy;

. took their stands fifteen paces apart, the wear

pons in their hands. ’

Frank Powell’s manner was positively care-
less, and his face was smiling, while Ned
Tracey was black as a thunder cloud, savage
and full of dread, for the turn afi'airs had ,
taken, just as be deemed he had all as he wanted
it, made him terribly nervous.

In his blunt, terse way, Doctor Gibbon gave
the word to fire, and the weapons cracked
ominously, one a little in advance of the other.

The hand of Ned Tracey was unsteady, and
he missed; but Frank Powell’s aim was sure.

 

 

 

 

 

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99-05 PUT

d” 901' 9:05

 

 

White’ Beaver, the Indian medicine Chief. ‘ l

 

and Ned Tracey dropped, a deep groan upon
his lips.

At once Doctor Gibbon was at his side.

“ Right over the heart, if not through it,
my boy, and well aimed, for the chances are a.
hundred to one he dies.”

"'1 hope not, sir, for I Would not wish him
to die, though 1 had to aim sure to destroy his
aim," said Frank with real feeling.

“ Well, .help me to probe for the bullet—
confound it! I don’t see why you fellows don’t
have strings attached to your bullets, and
thus save us poor doctors the trouble of search—
ing for them—look out, Frank, for that fellow
wants to sneak away.”

Caught in the act, Ferd Farley turned quick-
ly and answered: .

“ You mistake, sir, for it is my intention to
make Frank Pawell answer for the insult he
cast upon me.”

“Better not attempt it,” bluntly said the
doctor, unwrapping his case of instruments.

“ Why so?”

“He’ll put you where Tracey now is, and
his groans will tell you he is not happy.”

This was a home shot, and Ferd Farley was
silenced effectually.

Then the doctor and Frank set to work, the
wound was probed, the bullet’s course traced
and found, and in a twinkling the doctor had
it out. .

“There, now it’s a struggle against death for
him, with the chances strongly in favor of
death. .

“ Go, Frank, and send men here with a lit-
ter, and word to his home what they may ex-
pect, and then follow my suggestions.”

Frank bowed and turning away sprung
over the fence and was at once 03 in the twi-
light.

“Now, Ferd Farley and Wilmer Hodges, I
have here pen ink and paper, and you must at—
tach your signatures to what I write,” said the
doctor firmly. v A

“Must?” they echoed.

“ Must was the word.”

“What is it?”

The doctor hastily wrote a few lines, and
then said.

“Sign this, and I give to each one of you a
hundred dollars, with the advice gratis to
mount your horses and hasten to make your-
selves scarce in this neighborhood."

“ If we defuse?” ‘

“Then, Wilmer Hodges, I will have you
both arrested for a plot to kill Frank Powell,
and if you escape some years in prison you are
lucky. .

“ Now what do you say?”

“I’ll go.” ‘L

“ No prison for me.”

“ Yes, it is just for such as you; but here is
the paper.” ,

“ True, I’d like to hear it read before I sign
it,” said Ferd Farley.

“There is nothing you need fear to hurt
your name by signing, sir. But listen.”

The doctor then read aloud:

“Ar Enoscosna’s GRAVE. g,
“Hour of sunset, Ma 3d, 185

” We the undersigned confess to a p ot to aid Ned
Tracey in kiliin Frank Powell in a. pretendedfuu‘
meeting on the old of honor, but at which his pistol
was not to be loaded with ball.

“Discovered in the plot we now state that the
duel was fairly fought and that Ned Tracey fell be-
fore the fire 0 Frank Powell."

“Now sign here,” said the doctor.

Wilmer Hodges $001K the pen in a reckless

way and signed his name.
t Then Ferd Farley did likewise, and receiv.
ing the money promised them, though begging
for more, the two worthies mounted their
horses and rode away, 161“ng Doctor Gibbon
alone with the wounded mall-

 

CHAPTER XIII.
- A SCENE IN A DISSECTING-ROOM.

THREE more years have gone by since the
duel in the Kentucky village, 811d Frank

‘ Powell is presented to the reader as a doctor of

/

 

medicine, and one who, though just on the
verge of man’s estate, had been appointed a
surgeon in the army of the United States, with
orders to join his regiment on the far frontier.

From the night of, his leaving the little vil-
lage, after his duel with Ned Tracey, he had
not returned there, but going to Louisville, by
the, advice of his devoted friend, Doctor Gib-
bon, he had entered the medical college there,
and devoted himself to arduous study.

As for those he left behind him, changes had
fallen upon them, for Ned Tracey had fully
recovered from his wound, under the care of
Dr. Gibbon, though it was long months before
he did so,

As many in the town were imbittered
against him, when the doctor told his part of
the story, and verified it by the document
signed by Wilmer Hodges and Ferd Farley,
who had, tfortunately for themselves, decamped
for parts unknown, a warrant of arrest was
sworn out against Ned Tracey, and he was to
be taken from his father’s elegant home to
jail, as soon as his wound permitted, and there
to be tried for attempt to murder Frank Pow-
ell, whom the incensed citizens intended to
summon to appear against him.

In vain the judge tried to save his son from
arrest, for at last the people determined totake
him in hand as a detriment and stain to the
community; but Doctor Gibbon with a firm
friendship for the father of the spendthrift,
advised him to give the young man a few hun-
dred dollars and let him escape, by breaking
the bonds under which he had been placed
until his recovery. '

To do this, for there were talks of lynching
if the father, who was to be the judge, let the
boy go free, Judge Tracey was forced to mort—
gage his property.

But this he did, and, when many believed
Ned Tracey still unable to leave his bed, he
quietly left home one night, in a buggy with
two fast horses, and a thousand dollars, given
him by his weak and wretched father.

As the doctor was making only tri-weekly
visits, the escape of the young ruflian was only
spread abroad several days after its occur-
rence, and than the man of medicine told it
with a face the very picture of innocence.

The poor judge, whose son had been the
cross be had to bear in life, was ruined by the
paying of the bonds, and was forced to resign
his judgeship, which sent him to his grave in
disgrace. . .

Soon after Bessie, Vance, urged by her
father, married a man she did not love, ’twas
said—Jar many would believe her heart was
Frank Powell’s, and always would be—and her
husband proved to be a mere adventurer, who
squandered her inheritance, and, after the
death of her father dragged her down to the
bitterest poverty. '

And Doctor Gibbon, the blunt old man of
medicine, continued to practice in the village
until he went to Louisville to see his protege
receive his diploma, and had just returned
home, full of praise of Frank Powell, when he
dropped dead from heart disease, without hav-
ing made his will in favor of the “Boy Doc-
tor,” as he had daily threatened to do.

And thus we find Frank Powell, commis—
sioned an army surgeon, having gone steadily
up 'the ladder, independent of all obstacles,
pacing the dissecting room of the college, and
waiting for the coming of the class with a new
“ 5111039013,” he had been invited to see.

Though in his twenty-first year, he looked
much older, for his‘face was stern, and marked
with lines of care, yet as handshme as ever.

His form was elegant, tall and slender, but
every sinew one of irbn, and,few men could
face him in a hand—to-hand conflict and not be
severely worsted.

Looking at his watch impatiently, he wrote
a line on a card, threw it on a table and left the
room, where lay the ghastly forms on the dis—
secting table. ,

But hardly had the echo of his footsteps
died away in the long ball, when there were
heard heavy treads, and soon after ‘i'our men

/

 

\

entered, bearing in their
veloped in a cloak. .

The gas, which Frank Powell had turned
down upon leaving, was turned up, and the
form borne to one of the tables and p‘l‘ficed V
upon it, the cloak being then removed, re-
vealing a sheet as the covering beneath. '

The four who entered were evidently em-
bryo doctors, and they looked it. ,

“ The doctor is not here as he promised,”
said one.

“Strange too, for he is always on time,” re-
marked another.

“He may have been here and gone," sug-
gested a third.

“ Well, Whether he has or not, we will go to

arms a form en-

work, for I want the case dissected, after all \

the trouble and expense it has dost me.”

“ But we told the doctor of your discovery"
of a. subject with a new disease, heard of
often, but never seen, ‘Benbrooke and me
want him to see it, ” said one. ‘

“ Bah! you fellows make fools of yourselves
over Frank Powell, just because he has made

 

a little fame by a few bold surgical operations, " '

and I for one, don’t care for him. '

“ In fact, I don’t like him, and so here goes
to cut up the new subject,” Said Drake Ben~'
brooke, a large, cold-faced man of fully
twenty-six, though a student.

"’ Here is a card from Powell now," dried
one, picking up the card.

“ What does it say?” asked Benbrooke.

“ Back in half an hour,” replied the one who
had found it.

“ Well, let him come when he pleases, I
won’t wait,” and Drake Benbrooke moved to-
ward the dissecting table upon which had
been placed the white shrouded form.

But just then there came a quick, firm, 'yet
light step in the hallway, and Frank Powell
entered. ' "

" Pardon me, gentlemen, if I have detained
you, but I waited past the hour, and then went

out to send a night dispatch to a friend,” he i ,

said in his courtly way. ,

“ All right, doctor, we were late, so now left
us go ahead, ,for there is your subject,” cried
one. .

“ You were successful then?”

“Yes, Benbrooke got the body all right, and
we went and fetched it,” . , .

“And you say it died from wholly anew

cause of death than the ordinary ills‘thstg 

flesh is heir to?"

“ Yes, and you can’t guess its name.”

(t No. n

“ A broken heart.” I

The doctor did not smile even, though all
the others laughed at such a thought; but. he'
said gravely: , k ' 1

“Unfortunately that is a quite a common}
disease with many.” 4

“ You believe it?”

“ I know it,” and Frank Powell’s
looked more sorrowful than was their wont. V

“ Oh come! stop this palavering, and let us I
get to work, for it is after midnight,” said
Drake Benbrooke, and he walked to the table;

“ Do I understand that you wish me to dis. '
sect the body?" asked Frank Powell. , ‘

“ Oh,‘yes, givo us your ideas on the subject,” “
was Benbrooke’s indifferent reply.

Doctor Powell threw aside his coat, and ‘
prepared for work.

Then he stepped toward the table, and gent- ‘.
1y took hold, of the sheet that enveloped the i
slender form.

A woman in coarse burial attire was re” “

vealed. '
But though coarse the shroud, the face was,
refined, beautiful in the extreme, and yet
pinched as though from sorrow and suflering'
combined. ' A ‘
“Great God! doctor, what ails. you?” , ,
The cry came from one of the students, who

had seen Frank Powell sway backward 89M

dark eyes,

t‘"*

though about to fall, and his face became péxfi- 

fectly livid. . ‘
Thrice he attempted to speak, while, deg;
gazed, as if [in horror upon the dead face. and

l . ‘

i

i
u

1 115: I . 1’

 

 

 

 

,- r:

‘w“i’ \)

‘White inseam. Indian’Medidine Chiefi

 

 

4. ' no words found utterance from his lips, while
A " he quivered in every muscle.
 \, “ What ails you, Powell?” asked Benbrooke,
‘ J and he added rudely:
 .. “‘You are not scared at a dead body, are

you!”- .

"_ ‘ 'Frank Powell, with a mighty effort, in on
v instant became perfectly calm, though eVery

’ particle of blood had left his face.

, Stepping quickly forward he drew the cov-

‘ ering again over the upturned face, and an-
". swered in deep, stern tones:

"“ Yes, Benbrooke that dead-face does frighten
, 7’ -

E32110.”

, “Yes, and it is one I never expected to see

again, and here, in a dissecting room.”

- . ‘ .. ['th a patient of yours outside the hos-
 A’. ’ pital?” continued Benbrooke, in the same rude

, - _: ’ way.

“No, but one I esteemed as a friend above
all women, excepting my mother,” and Frank
,Powell. spoke ,in the same deep, low tones,
-:"__which showed how intensely hevfelt and all
. preSent pitied him, excepting Benbrooke, who
, again spoke:

' ‘ “ Well, friends have to die, 'and she has but
v gone» the way of all flesh.”

, “Where did you procure this body, Ben~

brookel"‘~
I "‘ She died in a. tenement-house, some said of
1,. abroken heart,’and her husband sold her to
me. ’

 ’ “Hal curses on a being so vile,” almost
shouted Frank Powell.
 Butts moment after he asked with the ut-
, most calmness: ‘
 ,“ You say sold her to you?”
(4 Yes.” ‘ ;
' “ May I ask what you paid him?”

“ Forty dollars, and getting her here has
cost me ten more nearly.”

' ‘ Frank Powell drew a roll of bills from his

Wet} and said: i "

‘ .V' ,“ Here are your fifty dollars, Benbrooke, and
I‘ will take the body.”

‘ "No you .will not.” .
ftYas.” ‘ r

' (Isay no, for I bought that subject as a
heat to this class, and I will not sell it.”

 ,1 “You must.” . ‘
. '  “Look‘here, Powell, do you mean to bully
 me,” angrily said Drake Benbrooke.

' t ' No, I merely ask you to give me this body,
Wthatl pay you back the expense yOu
,Vhave'been to.” '

.".-r"‘Buthill not.” , I '

',“’And I ask'you this favor, Benbrooke, tell-
ing yenvit is the body of one who is very dear
 m” I v’

“The soul is gone, what care you for the
casket?” said Benbrooke in his naturally rude
way. »‘ , r
.4, “Everything.”

' “Well, youycannot have it.”

’ . ‘-‘ Yes, Benbrooke, yield the point,” said one.
2.‘ ‘,‘ You are ’wrong not to do so,” remarked
‘ Surely, Drake, you won’t write yourself

down a man without a heart,” put in the third.
' "Iwill’not give up this subject,” was the
determined reply. v'

.All looked at Frank Powell.
‘ ,, He was as ‘white as the sheet that enveloped
é .thedeadjform, but he said, with the utmost

as: i.
‘ "I say you shall, sir.”

  

 

 

  
  

 

  
   
  
  
  
   
 

 

 

 

   
   
      
 
  
     
 
   
 
  
  
 
  

 

Powell?”

..  4,“! den”, i

' 3 , . " you will find that, though men call
. any wonder of strength and say that you
" ve killed your man, you have Drake Ben—

hook‘e to deal with now.”
fgn, but merely ask you to yield up your right

this body.

0 -“'And I refuse.” I
‘ ';"Ieeu1d prevent you touching it by simply
 that window and calling for an officer,
Ind have you arrested for body-snatching,” .

\

H‘fo Heaven! do you dare threaten m,‘

"‘ “Drake Benbrooke, I seek no quarrel with.

 

. “ It would be the last act of your life, Frank
Powell. ” .

“I doubt it; but I will not do so mean an
act toward one who puts confidence in me, so I
ask you, and your friends ask you, as I pay all
your expenses incurred, to surrender to me
this, the body of a friend.” .

“ I will not.”

“Then, sir, I shall take it from you and give
it proper burial."

Drake Benbrooke now became wild with
rage, and, throwing aside his coat, he seized his
dissecting knife and sprung between Frank
Powell and the table, ready to defend it with
his life. 1

CHAPTER XIV.
KNIFE 'ro KNIFE.

 

Tum three students who gazed upon the two
men saw that both were in deadly earnest.

Of course they sided with Frank Powell, for
well they knew he was in the right. .

But Drake Benbrooke was a dangerous man,
the bully of the medical fraternity, and a per-
son immensely feared and almost as universal-
ly detested.

He was a men of powerful frame,. a giant al-
most in strength, and Frank Powell, they
feared, was no match for him.

What they could do to prevent the coming
storm they did not know, and one of them
cried:

“ Hold! for this must end right here.”

Drake Benbrooke laughed in his rude way
and replied: ‘ -«

“ This man would steal my subject from me,
and he has got to fight for it, I say, and woe
betide the man who interferes.”

“ I will fight you for it, Drake Benbrooke, in
any way you wish,” was the calm response of
Frank Powell. .

“Then here, and with our dissecting knives,”
hoarser said the bully.

“ Certainly, they are most appropriate in
this room, with their surroundings and in our
hands, Drake Benbrooke,” sneered Frank Pow-
ell.

“Then come on, if you dare."

Frank Powell glanced at’ the three students
and said: ~ x

“Gentlemen, this is to be a fight between
Mr. Benbrooke and myself, to the death, and
I beg that you do us a favor, as brothers in the
profession we all represent.”

“W911, Powell?” asked one.

“If Mr. Benbrooke should kill me, you, as
witnestes against him, could hang him for
murder; but I beg that you will not do so, but
simply toss me on a dissecting-table as a sub-
ject, and let the world remain in ignorance of
what fate has befallen me.”

“If, on the contrary, I should kill Mr. Ben-
brooke, though in my own heart I believe I
would do so justly, the world would look dif-
ferently upon it, and I would be the sufferer,
and I have no desire to make the acquaintance
of the hangman, so that I trust you would be
equally as kind toward me as I ask you to be
to this gentlemen, and allow me to go in
peace.”

“ If you give us Benbrooke for a subject, I
frankly promise it,” said one, with a sudden
boldness that horrified his two companions and
surprised himself at his temerity.

“I will willingly give you his bodyas a sub-
ject and think you will find it a most interest-
ing study, as deveIOping brute instincts in the
form of a human being,” replied Frank Powell,
in his soft, pleasant way, which seldom deserts
him even in moments of direst peril and great-
est excitement. v

“Then we pledge ourselves," said one, and
the two others responded:

“ Yes; we swear to keep this night’s acts as;

a dead secret." "
“ You are a pack of fools, all of you, and I
dare you to inform on me when I have killed

‘this man,” said Drake Benbrooke, and turning

to Frank Powell,‘ he added:
“ D9 you fear to come on and meet me?”

9 V s» ‘ a

I“  :  IV" ‘1‘ r” r.' Jui' J"

“Will you yield your claim to that body?”
was the quiet question.

“ I will not.”

“ Then I shall take it.”

As Frank Powell spoke he turned toward
the table, and at once invited attack from his
enemy, for, with the cry of a wild beast Drake
Benbrooke sprung upon him, his knife up-
lifted. -

But, as the blade’descended Frank Powell
wheeled, threw up his left arm, caught it in
the fleshy part, and then drove the handle of
his own weapon into the face of his adversary
with a force that sent him reeling backward
against the wall.

Following up his advantage, he sent a dozen
lightning-like strokes upon the head and
breast of Drake Benbrooke, who, blinded by
them, struck right and left at random, but
each stroke was skillfully avoided or parried.

At last, maddened to desperation, Drake
Benbrooke lowered his head and made a rush to

ished him so severely.

In doing this he laid his head and neck open
to the knife of Frank Powell, who, perfectly
cool, could have killed him, but instead, sud-
denly grasped him as though in a steel vise,
and with a quick movement of one hand, said:

“ There, sir, is my mark for you to carry to
your grave, and now I warn you not to tempt
me to kill you.” ~

“By Heaven! Powell could have killed him
then, but simply laid his arm open,” cried one
of the excited students.

“Yes, he handles him as I would a child,”
said another. .

“ Benbrooke will force him to kill him yet,”
added the third. ,

And so it seemed, for Drake Benbrookc was
now a madman, and confident in his bruta-
strength, sought only to get Frank Powell l‘l
the gripe of his powerful arms. I

But his foe was perfectly cool, and to avoid.

arm, and holding it there by bending it bar-l:-
ward, again delivered a a series of terrific
blows upon the face and head of the huge
ruflian, which brought him to his knees.

Then seizing him by the throat, he said,
fiercely: I

“Now beg for your worthless life, Drake
Benbrooke, or by the heaven above I will see
if my knife can flnd‘a heart in your huge
body?” - ,

The position he was in and the manner of
his adversary seemed to awe the man and
bring him to his senses.

He was upon his knees, his left hand held in

a force he could not resist, and which threat-

still grasped the knife which was buried in the
left arm of his enemy, and which he had not
the strength to withdraw, while upon his threat
was the clutch of iron, which had released the
dissecting—blade to grasp it.

His face was battered fearfully, and he
knew, powerful as he was, he had met his
master, and that that master intended to kill
him did he not cry for mercy.

Like all bullies, he had acowardly heart,
and loving life, he felt that he must obey the

tone and manner: ,

“Beg for your coward life, sir, or on that
dissectingtable I will hurl you dead within
the minute.” ‘ x .

“Don’t kill me, Powell,” he whined.

“ No; I spare your life because I do not wish

coward.”

As he spoke Frank Powell threw the man
back from him, and turning to one of the stu-
dents. he said: '

“Burton, will you kindly dress these
wounds in my arm, and, Doane, -I am going '10
ask the favor of you to go after a carriage for
me.” ‘

. Both the young, men willingly did as re-‘
J quested, while Drake Benbrooke arose and paced

 

 

close in on his enemy, who had, thus far, pun- '

the gripe, took another knife-thrust in his

the right of Frank Powell, and bent over with '

ened to break the wrist-bone; his right hand ’

stem command given in fearful earnestness or‘. ,

the stain upon my soul of having killed a.

 

 

 

 

 

. NV“ ’5‘-

t?
'5
l
'(

 

t
y

 

,~ ' l , Whiteneai’rergrhe Indian Medicine Chief: ‘ 3 f '13

 

the floor like an enraged tiger that dared not
spring upon his prey, though he would gladly
have done so.

The wounds were deep, but Frank Powell
made light of them, and hearing the rumble
of wheels, which denoted the arrival of the
carriage, he said, politely:

“ Good-evening, gentlemen, and good-by,
for to-morrow I start for the frontier.”

Taking his cloak, he threw it around the
form, of the dead woman and carried it with
him from the room.

Soon after he drew up at the door of an
undertaker, and ordered the body prepared for
burial and placed in an elegant casket. ,

Three days after a hearse, attended by a
single Carriage, arrived in the village of—-—-—
and proceeded at once to the pretty little cem-
etery on the hill.

There the sexton was called, a grave was
dug, and the body consigned to the ground,
after which a marble slab was taken from the
front seat of the carriage by Frank Powell,
for he it was who occupied the vehicle, and it
was placed above the grave.

That little tombstone still stands in the vil-
lage churchyard, kind reader, and on it is en—
graven:

“POOR BESSIE !

“ Died of a broken heart, March 1st, 18—.”

CHAPTER XV.
THE CHIEF’S DAUGHTER.

A SQUADRON of cavalry dashed into an In-
dian camp, one morning early, some months
after the scenes narrated of Frank Powell’s de-
parture from the medical college, and at their
head, by the side of the commanding officer,
was the 'tall form of the regimental surgeon,
who could never be persuaded to look after
the wounded, while a battle was in progress.

Frank Powell had been at a fort on the
Nebraska frontier for three months, and in
that time had won the name of an experienced
surgeon, a devoted physician, and the bravest
of the brave among the officers.

“ You’ll be killed, or wounded yourself,
Powell, if you are so reckless, and then what
will we do for a surgeon?” said the command—
ing oificer, before the attack upon the Indian
village just referred to.

“ Do without, it I get killed; but I have an
unbounded faith that I’ll always pull through,
where far better men go under,” he answered.

And into the amp he dashed, his reins be-
tween his teeth, a revolver in one hand, and a.
sabre in the other, and when the fight was
ended a sergeant remarked to his lieutenant:

“Loot’nent, sur, was you afther seeing the
Fighting Doctor, sur, in the rumpus?

“Well, sur, he kept tally with his saber
for every Injun he was afther killing with
his revolver, so he did sur, an’ I seen him shoot
shoot six, and slash as many more.”

“Now, major, I am ready for work,” said
Frank Powell, cheerily, after the fight had
ended, with the capture of the Indian village,
the death of many of the hostiles, and flight of
many more. ‘ g

“ We“: Powell, I think you have been pretty
we“ “17 “Wk, from what I saw, and I felt oer-
tflln You W00“ be killed by your recklessnem;
but you seem to bear a charmed life.”

“Sometimes I think so mywlf’ major; but
here I pitch my tent, so order the wounded
sent in, soldier and warrior alike, for I know
no difference when my skill is needed.”

“Egud! you made some of the work you
have now to patch up,” laughed the officer.

“ Oh, no, major, in battle I always shoot and
slash to kill, and not wound,” and the surgeon

 

"bet to work at once, as the wounded were

brought up and laid down near him.

A number of gallant soldiers had fallen,
but many more were wounded, and among the
latter were now placed several officers and a
dozen or two of warriors.

“Lay that man back! I take them as I
come to them,” ordered Frank Powell, sternly,
as several soldiers took an officer out of the
line and brought him nearer.

 

“ But 'it is' Lieutenant Gray, sir,” said an
orderly.

“I know no sir, in my work, not
creed, nor color,” was the stern response, and
the surgeon went on with his work, until, just
as he had finished dressing the last one of the
wounded, an Indian warrior, a party of sol—
diers came up with some prisoners, among
whom was a. young and really pretty red-skin
maiden. .

She was the only female captive, and she
was bound as securely as were the braves with
her, yet held her haughty head up as proudly,
seemingly defiant. ,

“Men, release that girl,” ordered the sur-
geon, as he caught sight of her.

“But, sir, she’s a female terror, is she, for
she was either urgin’ on ther young bucks ter
kill us all intirely,” said the corporal, who
had the prisoners in charge. '

“ In defending her home and her people she
did perfectly right. ~

“ Release her, I say,” returned Frank Powell.

The corporal obeyed, for he dared not do
otherwise, and the Indian girl turned to the
surgeon and smiled her thanks, while she
stepped to the side of a gray-haired chief, who
was bent with age.

This brought the attention of Frank Powell
to the aged chief, and be instantly ordered
his bonds out also.

“ Howly Moses! he’ll be settin7 loose ther
whole tribe of ’em next,” growled the Irish-
American corporal, but in a low tone he was
careful should not reach the ear of the surgeon.

Beckoning to the two Indians, Frank Powell
told them to remain near his quarters, and
gave his orderly orders to see that they were
not molested.

Then he sought the major, who was busy 'in
another part of the field, and who, upon seeing
him, called out: i '

“ Well, Powell, have you finished your
ghastly work?"

“Yes, major, and have come to ask a favor
of you.” - A

“ Name it.”

“The men picked up an Indian girl and a
white-haired chief, and I wish to set them
free.”

“ White-haired Indians, and girls are always
dangerous, Powell.”

“ It may be, but I wish you would grant my
favor.” ,

“ You have some motive?"

“I have.”

" A geod one?" .

“Yes,- Ithinkso, for, in the fight, I raised
my saber to strike a. young chief, and that girl
lifted her arms imploringly, as though to beg
me not to kill him, though he did not flinch,
and she uttered no word. '

“ I obeyed her mute appeal, and shortly after
I rode upon a. couple of warriors, and one I
killed. but the other would have certame shot
me, had not his gun been knocked up by the
very girl, whose lover itwas, doubtless, I had
spared a short while before. ‘,

“ It wasa close shave for me, for as it was,
I got the bullet through my hat, and now I ask‘
the pardon of the girl, and the old chief, who is
doubtless her father.”

“ I wish I could grant it, Powell, but I can-

not, yet I have no doubt the general will,
when you have told him the particulars.”
, Frank Powell aid no more, but on the
march back to the fort he kept the old chief
and the maiden from the indignity of being
bound, and made his appeal in person to the
general. I

“Certainly, Powell, they deserve it, and I
am only too glad to grant you a favor,” was
the general’s reply. ,

But soon: Frank Powell 19‘ Arned with
another favor to ask, and than was a leave of
absence for several 5'45. ,

This,too, was granted, and, having'mounted
the old chief and the .maiden upon ponies of
his own, he left the fort with them, and started
upon the trail to their own village.

As he had feared, when leaving the fort, he,J

 

‘woolen shirt, and a, broad Sombrero,  .

 

had not gone far before he knew he was fol-
lowed.

There were a number of reckless hangers-on
about the fort, who were ever ready to do any
act of deviltry, and barely escaped summary
punishment, from the fact that theyhadnot
been actually caught in their evil deeds.

These men, four in number, could not recog—
nize any Sentiment in the fact of Frank Powell
saving the Indians, and determined to put an
end to the old chief and his daughter, simply
looking upon them as red-skins, and as-such, ‘
fair game to be killed in any way. . ~

They did not, bewever, care to face - the
surgeon in the matter, could it be avoided, and
determined to try two ways of accomplishing
their object. *

First, they would get ahead of the surgeon v
and his Indians and ambush them, shooting
them, and than coming forward with doleful ,
regrets at their mistake, and that they did not
see him.  '

Second, if no opportunity offered to do this,
they would mask themselves and boldly dash,
upon the party of three, and if the surgeon
showed fight, they would kill him, and rumor .
had it that he always carrieda snug sum with
him, and therefore it Would be worth their
while to do so. . ‘ - '

 

,/
CHAPTER XVI. I l ‘
THE MEETING WITH PA-E-HAS—‘KA.

THE four rufl‘iaus, having decided upon their
plan, as soon as the trail of the surgeon showed
what course they would take, at once diverged
to the right oblique. and made for a given
point which they knew they must pass.

Confident that he was followed, for he Baa  ~ ‘

seen the four men talking together before he
left the fort, and understood intuitively, from _ ,
his knowledge of their characters, what was
their game, the surgeon determined to counter;
plot against them. ' .
As they did not appear in sight, he turned '
back on the trail, to the surprise of the Indians, '
who could not understand English any more
than he could their tongue, and after a ride of

a few miles struck their trail, and discovered ‘ ' '-

where it diverged,

The Indians both understdod signs, and read
what their friend meant by turning back, and _
the'young girl‘pointed to the trail diatom"  
men had tlken, as though urging M they,
should follow it. -  '

By signs, she made the surgeon understood »
that it was their best course, and m on. the '
trail of the men who had pursued themthey
went. ‘ i I a

They had been but a few hours foflawiug‘it,
and were looking for a camping-M for the

'night, for the sun was near its setting, when:

the maiden uttered an exclamation of surprise, 
which caused Frank Powell to “glance quickly
behind him. ‘ r g ‘  .
There, not half a. mile distant, he saws : '
horseman approaching at a gallop. < '
r'l‘hat hev'msawhire man, he sswnt a glance, g
as also that he was well mounted sndthmghly

armed. , r
Atfirsthefeared the general hadnpsntedi'
of releasing the prisoners, and had sentloom , I
tier after him to return. r ‘ '

But then he failed to recognize thecoming
horsemen, and relinquished that idea.
Drawing rein he wglted, and the Indians, . .
calmly sat on their horses abiding his move-
ments. . i ,'
As the horseman came nearer, Frank Ferrell
saw, first that his hone was no ordinary uni.  1
mal, and then that he was superny Equipped,
for the rays of the setting sun glittered oaths
silver bit and mountings of his saddle. K ' _
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, small.- v
waisted, and wore a belt of arms that 
most formidable even at a distance. i , Y _ ; .
At his back was slung a rifle, the butter
which was seen over his shoulder, and house
dressed in leggings, stuck in top booty». blue

 

 
  

by a, silver cord, and looped up ripen one side.
But the face of the man at meerivetedthe ,i
x ‘ ‘ I ‘ I ‘ ,

 

 

 

 

 

4"

‘ \

.1
.‘ i n

 

  
 
  
  
  
 

, attention of the surgeon for it was as a picture,
" resolute, a trifle reckless, and the bean ideal
of what one would seek in a prairie cavalier,
“ Pu-e-hasvItal.”y
The word broke from the lips of the Indian
maiden, and was addressed to her father, who
repeated. " '
“ Ugh! Pa—e—has-Ica l" .
It was evident that they recognized him,
. and also regarded“ him as a foe, for they slung
their bows around and held their arrows ready
‘ . for use. ‘
' But the name had a sound as of magic for
FrankPowell, for he too had often heard it.
, “ No,” he said in a tone of surprised and
pleased inquiry.
Both the maiden and the chief bowed, and
, M , together repeated the name once more:
,, “ Pa-e-has—ka.”
“Ah yes, you Indians call him Long Hair,

. and he is adeadly foe to all bad red-skins; but

‘ . at the fort I have more often heard him ad-

' dressed as Buffalo Bill, and from all accounts
he is well named the King of Bordermen.”

, All this the Indians did not understand, but

. _ at a motion from their pale—face friend they
4‘ lowered their weapons,

’Then the surgeon rode forward to meet the
f i , coming horseman, who halted, and cried in
ringing tones:
' “' What is it, friend or foe?”
, “Friend of course, Buffalo Bill,” was the
x -, answer of Frank Powell.
"‘ Hal you know me?”
, , “Yes.”
“Who areyou?"
, “ A surgeon from the fort.”
i “ You are in bad company.”
"f Give me an opportunity and I will tell you
all",
i “ Ayflny, I never yet feared to face one man,"
/ said Buflalo Bill recklessly, and he Spurred for-
ward and drew rein right in front of Frank
Powell, who gazed upon him with undisguised
admiration, the famous scout also returning
the look with interest, for they were strangely
alike in bearing, both splendid Specimens of
manhood.
“ Well, who are you, pard, if you will ex-
. cuss abluut question?” asked Buflalo Bill.
. “I amFrank Powell, surgeon at ’the fort,
I and thismaiden having saved my life, got
. the general’a, permission to carry her and her
aged father, back to their own lines." '
, w. ‘fFrnnkly put, and I have heard of, you,
 sir, offer my hand, for you look square,

U’andif you are not, you belie your looks.

,.-“ But what trail are you on now?” '

i Frankfowelltinformed him inn few words
1 let his suspicions, , ,

J  “Ion are doubtless right, if they are the
‘, four I think them, from your. description. ‘

I r- T “But come, I see your Indian pards are
71' . anxious about our long pow-wow, so I’ll re-

' Illeve their minds,” and Buffalo Bill addressed

'1 them in their own tongue, and told them that
, L,he and the medicine-man were friends, and
‘ r. they need not fear him then. ,
f‘Now, Doctor Powell, let us hunt a camp;
 ' ’ there is one yonder in those cottonwoods, and
- ; ‘ than I mustask you to doctor me up.”

 g 1 - “Butwhat is the matter, Cody?”

' “ Oh, 'I ran into a nest Of red-skins back on
’ the trail, and an arrow head broke off in my
thigh, and though I fished for it, I couldn’t
' .. get even 9 nibble or it.
“I hope you carry your irons?”
1 “Oh you, am never without a small roll of

V _ instruments, andI can soon set you straight;
W C ’ . but come, let us lose no time." .

' .- The party then rode‘rapidly on toward the
cottonwpods, Buflalo Bill telling Doctor

Powell that he was on a scout for the fort, to

,which he belonged * '
Once in comp, and the flint arrow-head was

-, quickly taken out, the wound dressed, and
, ‘ Buffalo Bill remarked: ‘

" ‘ ,“Doctor, you’re a trump, and it’s a real
' pleasure to have you slash at me; but come,
' , , let us have a good rest, and than we will go' on

[the trail of those fellows. , r '

 

 

   
 
 
   

éwhite Beaver, the-Indian Medicine

. until you have

'dsnger. ’ v

1 horse and checked further pursuit on his part.

 

the doctor, in spite of their being foes, deter-

1
CHAPTER XVII.
THEMAMBUSH.

WITH the King of Bordermen, Buffalo Bill,
as an ally, Doctor Powell had no fear of the
result of his meeting with the foes who had
trailed him, and under his guidance rode on
wholly at ease.

The following afternoon Buffalo Bill pointed
to a far distant line of timber, and said quietly:

“ There is where your foes await you.”

“How do you know this?"

“Their trail leads there, and they are at the
ford, where you would have struck, bad you
gone on your way, without turning, as you
did upon_ their track. If we go directly on
they will discover us, for the ford is a splendid
place for an ambush, and commands a fine view
of any one approaching from this direction.

“Now you make a straight line across here
gone about two leagues.
Keep straight for the timber.

“ I will at once strike for the river, here at
the nearest point, swim across, and flank their
position. Then when they see you and the red-
skins coming and prepare for you, I will be
ready for them.”

“A splendid idea, Cody, and I am more

than willing to do as you direct," and Doctor
Powell and his Indian friends moved on across
the prairie.
' Slowly they advanced toward the ford of
the river, toward which several Well—worn
trails were visible, leading in the same direc-
tion, and Frank Powell narrowly eyed the
timber, watching for the slightest sign of
danger, while the Indians did likewise, for they
well appreciated the situation.

Confident that Doctor Powell, or the Indians,
would not suspect an ambush, and would ride
directly upon the ford, the four ambnscaders
were not as particular as they might have
been, and it was not long before the keen eye
of the surgeon detected a. form moving in the
bushes.

He was about to attract the attention of the
Indian maiden and her father to it, when he
saw that the young girl had also discovered it.

Yet they did not draw rein, but held on
their way, hoping for some sign from Buffalo
Bill, who certainly had had ample time to
reach the rear of the four men.

“I will bait, for see even now we are in
range of their rifles, and that will cause them
to make some show, and Cody to not, if he has
reached the position he desired,” said the sur-
geon, and the three drew rein.

For a long time they waited, and then Frank
Powell set the example, of turning their horses’
heads, as though to ride away from suspected

Instantly four sharp reports rung out almost
together, and the villains betrayed themselws.

A moment after, with wild yells, they dashed
out upon horseback toward Doctor Powell, who
with the Indians maintained a firm stand.

But just then there came a. ringing report
from the timber, and down upon the prairie,
out of his saddle, tell one of the four men.

In alarm they turned to fly back to the cover
of the timber, when out dashed Buffalo Bill
with his ringing war-cry, and forward bounded
Frank Powell and the two Indians to his aid.

Raising his rifle, Frank Powell fired, and a
second of the rufllans fell from his saddle, while
a return fire from them brought down his own

But hot on their trail went Buffalo Bill, and
soon pursued and pursuer passed out of sight
in the gathering shades of night.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.

m wnrrn BEAVER.
thmd that his only courso to pursue was
to camp for the night, Doctor PoWell did so,
and then set about capturing the horse of the
Indian whom he had slain, for the animal was

feeding not for distant.

This he soon did with the-aid of the chief
and his daughter, and than they took the
bodies of the taro white men into the timber,

 

/

.., .
f, s

W93 .

 

‘ mined to give them burial and not leave them

for the coyotes to tear in pieces.

Having eaten their very frugal meal, tin
doctor dug a grave with his knife and buried
the two bodies, the Indians leaving that honor
wholly to him to perform.

But though the y waited late for the coming
of the scout, he failed to appear, and when the
first glimmer of dawn came Doctor Powell was
up and endeavoring to find some trace of his
new-found friend, for he feared some harm
had befullen him.

But as far as he went he saw the trail of the
two fugitives, and then came that of Buffalo
Bill evidently in hot pursuit. .

Returning to his lndian friez'ds, he made
signs that he would continue «11 “itb them

‘ until they had entered their own territory, and

by noon he saw by their faces and actions that
they had come upon familiar ground.

Here he would have left them, but at this
both the old chief and the maiden excitedly
negatived the idea, and, not fearing danger at
their hands, he continued on.

An hour before sunset the smoke of a. camp-
fire was visible, and beyond a range of hills
many more were seen, and again did Frank
Powell make a move to turn back.

But again the chief and his daughter urged
to the contrary, and he intended to' be firm
about it, when suddenly he descried, not two
hundred yards away, a hundred painted horse-
men file out of a ravine and come dashing to-
ward them at full speed.

Determined to sell his life dearly, he drew
his revolvers, but at once the maiden cried to
him to desist, and caught hold of the weapon,
while she implored him by her looks not to
fire.

To do so would be madness he knew, and he
waited, while the Indians came on with wild
cries. ‘

Circling around the chief and his daughter,

they gave every manifestation of delight,’

which proved to the doctor that they were of
the same tribe, and were charmed to see them
back in safety; but he observed also that they
seemed to regard him as a prisoner, and were
equally pleased at a chance to have a. war-
danoe over his death.

A word, however, from the chief calmed
them, and then they pressed forward and
greeted him, and one, speaking English well
said:

“The great chief Lance Eye tells us what
his white brother has done for him, and for
the Eyes-that—Swim, and his red brothers wel-
come him." _

This was pleasant news for Doctor Powell,
and it also gave him an insight {into who was
the white-haired chief and his daughter, and
be well knew, from all he had heard of the

distinguished warrior that had the general, or”-

any one else at the fort, Suspected that they
had the noted Lance Eye in their power, his
hours would have been quickly numbered.
And on to the main village of Laws Eye,
went Doctor Powell, and he found there the
remnant of the band the squadron had attacked.
Through the Indian who spoke English the

doctor held a long conversation with Lance'

Eye, urged peace between his tribe and the
palefaces, and was told that he could return
to his people and say that the hatchet would
be buried for the sake of the white brother who
had served them so Well, and merely because
he had a. good heart.

The chief tried to press upon the doctor in-
numerable presents of skins, bows and arrows,
beads and other things most valuable in an In-
dian’s eye; but Frank Powell refused all, and
Lance Eye in an injured tone asked through
the interpreter if there was not one thing he.
could do for his white brother. .

Doctor Powell, little dreaming that he was
making a great demand, pointed to a white
beaver-skin of great beauty, hanging in front
of the chief’s tapes, and said he would be glad
to accept that, as a souvenir to remember the
chief by.

Lance Eye lookednt his son and daughter, ,

/

 

:

 

 

rot—nun. ._....._

 

 

 

White Beaver, the Indian'Medicine Chief.

 

and then at his warriors, and then a silence

fell upon all; when Eyes-that—Swim said:

“The White Chief isa great warrior and
should wear the badge of honor among our
people.” -

Instantly Lance Eye arose, and taking the
white beaver-skin, fasteneduit about the neck
of Doctor Powell, and said. in an impressive
tone, which the Indian who spoke/English,-
interpreted: . ,

“Only the great chiefs of our nation have
worn the skin of the white beaver; but my
pale—face brother is deserving of all honor, and
I give him the skin, and make him a mighty
chief among our people, and now let him see
that his people bury the tomahawk against the
tribe of Lance Eye, for he is now named White
Beaver, the Mighty Mediciviw.”

Doctor Powell made a neat reply, which all
seemed pleased with, when it was interpreted
to them, and half an hour after started upon
his return to ,the fort, happy in the work of
good he had accomplished.

 

CHAPTER XIX.
FANCY FRANK.

THE return of Doctor Powell to the fort was
made .in safety, and he was welcomed back as
039 from the dead, for two squadrons had
been sent 01! in search of him. ,

Just; before his arrival another important
personage put in his appearance at the fort,
and that was Buffalo Bill.

But he was not alone, for he had with him
two prisoners.

They were the same two men he had started
in pursuit of from the ford, and whom he had
run down, thongh not until he had trailed
them to their den and discovered them to be-
long to a noted gang of outlaws and horse-
thieves, and Whose acts kept the border, in. a
constant state of fermentation. .

The scout and the surgeon had along talk
together over their adventures, and from the
day of their meeting they became the flrm9st
friends, and up to this time the link of friend-
ship has‘never been broken, as the, author can
vouch for, as only a short while since he was
with the two noted borderrnen uponaNebraska
trail. w .' .

As time went ~01; White Beaver became

‘ known albng the entire border, and his elegant

appearance and somewhat fancy style of dress-
mg galned‘for him the appellation of Fancy
ank, a name under which" he has figured
as hero in more than one romance of the
border, and performed deeds o: valor-that, will
live in story long after the mortal hascrumbled
to dust.

 

SELF~BACBIFICE. ,
To follow the fortunes of Frank Powell

through hichsreer as“ White “Beaver, Fancy.
Frank, Iron Face and Mighty Medicine, would r

make volumes, for his life of‘nearly a. score of
years upon'tho prairies and in the mountainS,
the admired of his own people, the almost wor-

shiped among the Indians, his strange hermit ”

emstence, and then self-exile among a nation
of red-men who made him their highest chief,
would fill volumes, so I will only refer to sev-
eral other incidents in his existence on the
border, which go far to mark him as a man of
marvelous powers. .

When a bitter Indian war 'was waging on

I the border, on enemy to both white and red-
' men came between both sides that put an ‘end

t0 bittlei, trails and bitter feuds forIawhila,
This enemy was the small—pox, which sud-
denly broke out in the strongest villages of the
Indians, and “need the soldiers to fly from its
pestilential breath for quicker than from the

' bullets of the warriors.

A renegade, fleeing from his own white race

. had gone to the Indian camps, and been taken

down with the dread disease.

 

Rapidly it spread from tepee to tepee,_and
the poor Indians knew not where ’to fly.

Against it fatal and fearful ravages the
greatest of their medicine-men were unable to
cope, and in terror the rude children of the
plain found an enemy upon them that spared
neither warrior or squaw, old or young.

Coming to them through the renegade white,
they believed that the whites had sent‘ him
there to die in their midst, but first to spread
the terrible pestilence to kill off their people.

This rumor of what the Indians believed
their white foes guilty of, was brought by a
friendly red-skin scout to the forts, and it
angered those in command.

“ It is an infamous slander, yet who can
blame the poor creatures for believing all ill
against us,” said Frank Powell, their Post Sur-
geon.

The more he thought it over, the more he
fretted at the rumor, and then it came to him
that he would do all in his power to prove the
story a false one. ,

Orderinga pack-horse be loaded him with
all the necessary medicines, and gaining an
unlimited leave, he started forth to carry out
his noble determination.

Those who knew what that was begged him
to remain, and failing in this, got the general
to revoke his leave.

But ere the order was issued that would com-
pel him to remain in camp, he had secretly de~
parted, and though a squadron was sent on his
track, with Bufi’alo Bill as trailer, they failed to
overtake the determined, self-sacrificing man.

One afternoon an Indian lookout spied a
horse coming toward their village.

Behind him walked a man, urging the ani-
mal on.

It was Frank Powell, and the horse in his
front was his own animal, loaded with the pack
pf medicines, for the pack beast he had driven
to death, fearing he would be followed.

The Indian guard spread the alarm; but
what enemy had they to fear worse than the
loathsome disease then in their midst?

Nearer and nearer he came, and a few war—
riors advanced to meet him, to give him battle,
for they saw that he was a pale~face.

Suddenly they .charged upon him, but he
stood with both arms held upward, as a token
of peace,» and upon his broad breast was the
:ln'n of',the white beaver, the sacred emblem
among the tribes. - ' '

They drew rein and circled around him, and
in their own tongue, whichhe had learned well,
he proclaimed himself: ' ’ ‘

“White Beaver, the Mighty Medicine Chief
of the Mikes.” . I .

They listened in awe, for all had heard his
name. . ,, . ,
~ ' In silence» thexog'ain, waited to hear him
speak, and in trumpet tones he shouted:

“Red, brothers, .White Beaver, the Mighty
romaine Mair of'the‘Pule-faces is your natural

oei »

“ In your health and strength he has fought
you knife to knife, .and taken scalp for scalp.

“But when, the Great Spirit is angry with
you, when your warriors have to meet a foe
your medicine-men dare not face, then he has
come to you to be your friend. >

“He has come to you‘to check this dread
foe of 'the red-men, and prove, if he loses
his life in your village, because your fearful
foe is greater than he is, that a white man can
die to save a red-brother.

“ Will the red-men receive the White Beaver
in their village?” , . ~

All were spell-bound at his words, and a few
chiefs hastily held a pow-wow, and the result
was that White Beaver was invited to come
into their village. ', \

He found it a most loathsome place; but he
at once set to work, organised a corps of
squaws to assist him, and began where he was
most needed. '

. He, vaccinated all who had not been taken

medicines to all who suffered;
Almost within twelve hours a change was

 

. l
I l

with the scourge, and then gave the nemesary.

l

 

visible for the better, and within three days
the deaths began to cease, and many who were
sorely ill at once improved.

The Indians were mystified, dazed, and they ;

began to cry down their own medicine-chiefs,
and to almostrdeify the White BeaVer.

Thus the weeks passed into a mouth, and the
scourge was broken, the disease no longer
seized upon new victims, and Frank PoWell
returned to his command, loaded with every
honor the red-skins could heap upon him, and

lauded by all who knew him for his noble,

self sacrifice.

 

CHAPTER ‘XXL ‘
THE LAST MEETING.

UPON the banks of a Nebraska stream a
party of three cowboys were encamped, their
horses being lariated out to feed upon the rich
grass near by. v

Presently into the camp rode three men,
and the cowboys were at once ready to greet
friend or foe.

' But the horsemen seemed to be friendly, and
asked the way to the nearest railway station.

One of the cowboys directed them, and said.

“ You seem to hev rid hard, pards. Any<
thing wrong?” ,

" The trouble is, we met an old friend at the,
fort, and he recognized us, and we fearhe is
on our trail."

“ And you three runs from one galoot?”

“You don’t know him." I .

“ I knows many a plucky teller in these hour
parts, but it do seem ter me indewidually speak—
in’, at I hed another pard, that ha’n’t but three
men in Nebrasky I’d run from."

“And who are those?”

“ One are Buflalo Bill t’other one Wild Bill,
and ther third one Whi e Beaver, whom some
calls Fancy Fran ."

“The last named is the very man that we >

are running from. Good-morning."

The three men rode on, leaving the cow
boys considerably astonished.

But in a. few moments after a single horse-

man came along at a gallop, his eyes closely

following the ground.

At sight of the cowboy camp he looked up
quickly, seemed to search for some 0139, Med
disappointed, and raising his broad sombrero
dashed on. ~ . ‘ V

A short while after a sharp firing was heard
not far away, and the three cowboys defied
to the scene. .

They beheld the single horseman dismounted,
his horse lying dead on the trail, and, before
him the three strangers.

All three/of them were prostrate,1}vs:efltfii
in death, and the third writhing in agony. ‘

At sight of the cowboy! thormlenflidnliok- .

ing man called out:

“ I am White Beaver, the Medicine Chief,» .
.and these three men are my fool'th Butte

long tracked. ‘Do yon-take up’ their quarrel?"
~ “ We is jist‘ther pilgrims“ isn‘t up

nobody’s quarrel.

«We did you'farewell, Indra, onless you

wish us ter. teller yer round ‘ter bury! "yer'

dead." , ,
“ Yes, bury those men, and the pickings you
get all of them will repay you for your m”,
And transferring his own saddle and bridle
to a fine animal ridden by one of the dead
men, be mounted and rode away.

As he said, kind reader, that man was ,'

Frank Powell, White Beaver the Medicine

Chief, and those he had slain were Ned Tracey, ~

Ferd Farley and Wilmer Hodges, who had it
last met their doom in a sudden death at the
hands of the man they had wronged, and in
filling an
prairies.‘ .
* Dr. Frank Powell is nowmarried man est‘ le
lady, and resides in La Greece; but he is on

great Medicine Chief of the Winnebagoes, and
when not midis]: the duties of his ‘ e

 

8
months with t em in '

practice. passes resting
heir ' where he is really the idol his
adoptedfibrothers. \ f9; ,

THE END.

15' 7

unknown grave in the land ctr

the. ,1

 

 

 

 

TIE UTE

S'TRANGER THAN

FICTION!

 

 

 

 

~ "‘.’\

 

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