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IE IE ETP EE TEV Ce SL tee we

The Border Scout.

FRANK STARR & COl aa PL APE Ss ne
‘am, News #0. 1 119 & 121 1 Nassan By N, y. |

 

 
   

   
 

American Star Publications
TEN-CENT STAR NOVELS. |

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“ 41 Platt Street, New York

 
 
 

 

 
THE BORDER SCOUT;

OB,

|

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH.

By CHARLES P. ISLEY.

NHW YORK:

FRANK STARR & CO., PUBLISHERS ~
‘ 41 Platt Street.

 

 
  

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, hy
FRANK STARR & CO.,,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for tc

Southern District of New York.

GD 2 BF te ans we eet ee

 

     
 

THE BORDER SCOUT.

CHAPTER I
“ Why flames the far summit?” —CampBEL.

The month of October, to us of the North, where
the scene of our story is laid, is one of the most de-
lightful in the calendar. Then nature is robed in her
- Most magnificent attire. He who ‘has never seen a
New England forest after the first frosts have touched
it, has yet to behold one of the most. gorgeous. spec-
tacles the eye ever rested upon. Suddenly, as if by
magic, the green woods undergo a wonderful change.
The different trees, with the manifold varieties of the
Same species, éach assume a distinct livery, embracing
every hue, from the rich scarlet and crimson of the
Oak to the pale gold of the rock maple.. Words are
inadequate to describe the pomp of this unrivalled dis-
play, nor is it in the power of the’pencil to portray it.
No palette could produce such a combination of colors,
Such . delicate mingling of tints—such brilliant con-
tasts ; all combined so harmoniously, and producing
Such a perfect whole, that the eye never wearies with
 §azing upon it.
We know of but one spectacle here at the North
that can compare with it. It is after one of those
Warm rains which we frequently have in tke depth of

 
    

   

10
winter, followed by a clear, cold night. The next
morning you go abroad anda miracle of beauty meets
your eye. Everywhere you see the trees bending
gracefully to the earth, borne down with their fruitage
of gems, flashing and sparkling with dazzling splen-
dot as the sunbeams fali pon them, while every
object, from the tall spire to the minutest elrub, is
eascd in crystal armor. There is yet one more specta-
cle not so gorgeous, perhaps, but “ beautiful exceed-
ingly.” It is when a day of mist is succeeded by a
cool night. The .congealed. vapor, settles, on every
limb and twig and blade of grass, so that every object,
all its outlines :distinet, seems delicately embossed
with silver, rivalling the’most cunning workmanship.

But to our story.

We wish the reader to step back with us about one
century—say to the year 1754, and permit us ‘to intro-
duce him into the wilds of the then District, but now
State of Maine. . It is in this same month of October.
The delicious “ Indian summer” had arrived,'and the
woods were flushed with the hectic of the dying year:
On the banks of a picturesque stream, broken by in-
numerable falls, a small clearing had been made in the
wilderness, and a settlement commenced, consisting
of a few log huts and a small meeting-house, built also
of logs. In the rear of the settlement, on a ‘slightly-
rising ground, stood a block-house, as it was. called.
This house, or fort, was built of heavy timber, and
was surrounded by a high: :palisade.: It was used in
those troublous times as-a place of refuge, when fear-
ing an attack by the Indians, and frequently the in-
habitants of the early settlements: were shut up for
years in these close quarter's, seldom venturing out, and
ind then only in squads, well-armed, to attend to their

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

 
S Spe

 

JOE. WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 11

husbandry, or to bring down a passing moose or other
wild game.

At the time of our story, although there were
rumors rife of attacks having been made by. the
savages on neighboring townships, the inhabitants of
this “ grant ”~one “of the Narragansett townships—

still remaivedin their homes; busy in securing their

crops, and in preparation for the approaching winter.
Day after day, as rumor’ followed ramor, many. an
anxious thought was cast upon the block-house, and
eager consultations were held in regard to the expe-
diency of removing thither. Already large quantities
of provisions had ‘been deposited there, and some of
the families had made their arrangements to take up
their abode there ata moment’s warning.

The houses of the settlers were somewhat scattered,
standing from-a quarter to half a mileapart. A little
off from the rest,’on a little by-road or path, near the

_ banks of the river, stood the house of a man by the

hame of Holden. His family consisted of himself and
wife, a son some twenty years of: age, a daughter a
year or two younger, and a ‘niece, an orphan, the child
of a deceased sister, of about the same age. At times,
and at this particular time, there was also.a “hired
man” td’assist in harvesting.

It must’ be borne in’mind, however, that, although
leceiving the wages of servitude, it was not the least
detraction to the character of Frederick Hancock. It
Was common in those days for the sons of substantial
farmers, and he was one of them, to let themselves
out during harvest time. Hancock was about the age
of George Holden, between whom a strong friendship
existed. They were co-laborers in the field, and both
Shared the same bed. He was also a general favorite

 
 

   

  

12 : THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

in the family, and a particular one, if signs are to be
relied upon, of Ellen Holden. Not that sne openly
displayed her partiality—sue had too much | true
womanly delicacy to do that—but

“ There is a language by the virgin made,
Not read, but felt—not uttered, but betrayed.”

Although born and reared in the, wilderness, there
was nothing coarse or hoydenish about Ellen Holden.
She was a fine specimer of a country lass—buxom,
full of life and spirit, ready to assist. in. every house-
hold duty ; and.in the haying season, more smart and
dexterous with the rake than. the majority of young
men. She had naturally a fine mind, which she had
not neglected, [ler means ot improving her jintellec-
tual powers were limited, it.is true, but. she was one
of those characters who acquire knowledge intuitively,
as it were. Ilowever, a select, though small collec-
tion of books in the possession of her father, aided
materially her, mental development.

Young Hancock’s character bore some resemblance
to Ellen’s; and perhaps it was their mutual thirst, for
knowledge, and their mutual studies to attain it, that
biassed their hearts towards each. other... Be that as
it may, it did not require a very close scrutiny to de-
tect a strong;»growing’ attachment. between. this
couple, so eminently fitted by character and position
for each other... Whether. their affection was, sus-
pected by others, was a matter of uncertainty, as
nothing appeared, by word or look, to indicate suspi-
cion. A circumstance, however, very soon transpired,
which revealed the deep interest which Hancock, at
least, felt for his fair companion... And. that; same

—

 
 

JOH WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 13

thrilhvg incident, which we propose presently to re-
late,gave an insight of the secret of other hearts:
George Holden alia his cousin, Annie Wilson, fol-
lowed closely in the footsteps of Frederic and Ellen.
Being cousins, there had always been, as was natu-
ral, an open show of affection between them, and a
familiarity of conduct, but it was not dreamed that
any warmer feeling existed than a “ cousinly regard’ I
-~a sentiment by no means easily defined.

Annie Wilson was like, aud yet unlike, Ellen. In
many characteristics there was a marked resemblance.
She evinced the same aptness for study, and. pos-
sessed the same houschold virtues. Her spirits were
not so uniformly even and exuberant as were Hllen’s.
At times a shade of melancholy would veil her usually
_ lively features. The loss of her parents had thrown
a shadow over her early life, and although she had
found an affectionate father and mother in her un-
tle and aunt, a warm-hearted sister in Ellen, and
Something more than a devoted brother in George,
Still, at times, a feeling of loneliness—a yearning for
something they could not bestuw—would steal over,
hot amounting to unhappiness, but sufficient to put a
Blight check on her naturally excitable spirits. In
person she was more’ delicately: moulded than her
Cousin. Although she enjoyed excellent health, it
Was not so robust as Ellen's: She possessed no small
Share of beauty, and she betrayed a natural grace in
all her movements It would be difficult’ to decide
which of the two cousins bore the palm... There was
& witchery in the laughing eyes and changeable. fea-
tures of Ellen, which fully balanced the more quiet
Charms of Annie. They were bcth lovely girls, and
as loveable as lovely.

 
   

  

14 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

George Holden was a fine, manly fellow, sharing
fully in his sister's lively disposition. _He was. more
impulsive than his friend Hancock, and lacked, per:
haps, a litle of his firmness and decision of character.
Ife loved a merry joke, and it did one good to. hear
his hearty, jovial laugh... The staidness of his father,
who was'a deacon in the charch—and a deacon in

hose days was a very dignified body to be sure—was |

frequently severely tested. by the good-natured pranks
he was fond of playing. As for his mother, she
doted:on him as the apple of her eye, and was. always
ready to make exeuses. for him when his frolicsome
propensities carried him beyond what. the good dea-
con deemed strict propriety.

Such were the characters, hastily portrayed, and
such the relation in which they stood toward each
other, of the inmates of the small log-house we have
mentioned.

CHAPTER IL.
THE SCOUT.

The day was drawing to a close—the horn had
been sounded with a lively tra-la-la by the rosy lips
of Ellen Holden, calling the laborers from the distant
field to the evening meal. Around the table the
family had gathered, and the good deacon was about
to ask a blessing on the plain and substantial food set
before them, when footsteps were heard approaching
the house. There was a pause, and the eyes of all
were turned towards the door. It opened, and 4
tall figure, dressed in hunting gear, bearing a long

   

 
So

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 1§

rifle, entered the room; followed by a powerful dog.
A sinile of recogn tion and weleome from the group
around ‘the table ‘was given the new comer. He
pansed ‘ashe noticed the prayerful attitude of the
fainily; and, lifting his cap, he leaned on his ritle,
bowing reverentially as a signal for the deacon to
proceed.

We'will take the opportunity to describe him. He
was above the middling height, even as ‘he stood
there ina bent posture. His chest was broad, and,
though spare in flesh, his well-developed ‘muscles
evinced great strength and powers of endurance. He
was apparently about sixty years of age. His face
was bronzed by the sun and the weather, and scarred
with age, but his eyes had lost none of the fire of
youth. His features betrayed a remarkable vivacity
when he entered the room, and returned the saluta-
tions of the family ; but now in every lincament could
be read a firm, unyielding resoluteness. Though
there was a sternness, there was nothing like harsh-
ness or coldness in his countenance. It was one of
those faces that indicate a bold, self-reliant’ man, full
of shrewdness, and accustomed to depend upon his
own resources in whatever circumstances he might be
placed.

His dress was singular, being of a fashion half-
Civilized, half-savage. His cap was made of the skin
of some wild animal, apparently that of a wolf, and
was evidently the work of his own hands. He wore °
a short hanting-frock, girt about the waist by a broad
belt of undressed hide, suspended from which was a
sheath of the same material, containing a formidable
hunting-knife. His lower limbe were encased in leg-

 
   

 
 

16 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

gins of deer-skin, and his feet in moccasins, like those
usually worn by the Indians.

There was not the movement of a limb or a-muesle,
until the deacon. had got through with his somewhat
prolix blessing. That over, with a quick, active
motion, the new-comer deposited his rifle in a cornet
of the room, his face lighted up as if by magic, and at
one and the same time he was shaking hands with
Mr. and Mrs. Holden, while the exclamations, ‘* Wel-
come, Scout!” “Glad to see you, Scout!’ Take a
seat at the table, Joe!” were uttered by different
members of the family.

The personage thus introduced to the reader was a
famous hunter at the time, andin the region of which
we wrive. His name was Weir—Joseph Weir—
although the sonbriquet by which he was generally
kuown was “The Scout.” He was celebrated far and
near, not only as a huntsman, but as a leader of expe-
ditions sent. out to punish the oft-repeated depreda-
tions of the savages, or to rescue the captives that had
fallen into their hands. The greater part of his life
had been passed in the woods, and he had acquired ail
the cunning and subtlety so characteristic of the abor-
igines. His eye was as quick to aetect and follow a
trail as the sharpest among the red men. His services
were always ready when required to head a war-party
against the common foe, and a great portion of his
time was employed in following them up single-
handed. . He evi idently hesectod ; a strong animosity
avainst the whole race, and a ferocious fire would kin-
die in his eye whenever he alluded to; them. He was
not naturally cruel in his dispostion, but some early
wrong he had received from their bands had implanted
an implacable enmity in his heart toward them.

 

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JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 1¥

“Well, Scout, what news is there stirring ?” asked
the deacon, alter haying bountifully helped his unex-
pected guest, “ Are the settlements all quiet?”

“ Just now, around her, deacon,” replied the Scout,
“but the varmints haye been at their bloody work
down to Falmouth. One Sweat was shot while riding
on horseback the other day, and I Varn that Greely of
Yarmouth has been cruelly murdered by the rep-
tyles.”

“ Do you know the tribe that committed the deed ?”
asked young Hancock.

“The Androscoggin, youngster, the most treacher-
ous and blood-thirsty of the whole. The outlying
sarpints are spread all over the eastern sections.”

“ Are there any signs of them at the west of us?”
asked the deacon.

“ Wal, now, that’s part of my business here. There’s
a movement among the Ossipees, and I consate they
are bent on mischief. I’ve been up in their region,
and things don’t look right anyhow. There was a
mustering on the Saco a few days ago, and they were
all daubed up with their infarnal war-paint.”

“Did you venture among them?” said Annie.

“No, miss, not I. But Pve had my eyes on’em.
I’ve been hunting out thereaways, and I reckoned it
would be as well to look round a bit, to see if the
pesky varmints were quiet.”

‘Were you not afraid of being discovered?” asked °
Ellen.

“When you catch a weasel asleep, gal, you may
trap old Joe when he is on the trail! DTve not lived
in the wood so long to be sarcumvented by a copper-
skin. Eh, Brave?” and he patted the head of the dog

 
 

   

18 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

whieh stood by his chair, receiving a portion, of his
supper, while he gave utterance to a low chuckle.

« Fut see here, deacon,’ he added, rising frum his
chair, “ve a word to say to you out 0’ doors. Stay
here, pup, and finish your supper.”

So saying, he unceremoniously placed his plate be-
for: the dog on the floor, then turned. and left the
room with Mr. Holden.

After they had got outside, and a little distance
from the house, the Scout commenced, in a low tone:

‘Twas no use skeering the women folk in there,
deacon, so I thought it best to call you out.”

“Does any danger threaten us, Scout?’ asked Mr
Holden, with no slight degree of anxiety.

“Wal, deacon, ’tain't no use covering it up; the
Ossipees are on the path, and likely’s not the skulking
thieves will come this way. Nay, I’m sure ont. I
saw enough to convince me that it was their intention
to send, if they have not already sent, war parties off
in the different directions. I larnt as much as this,
and then started to put the settlement on their guard.
I warned ’em at Hollis and Buxton as I came along,

and the sooner you around these parts get into the
block-house the better.”

“We will remove this very night; I will go and
make preparations, while you, Scout, will proceed to
notify our neighbors,” and Mr. Holden was turning,
in evident alarm, to go back to the house, when the
Scout took him by the arm—

“*Tain’t at all necessary to be in a eae. deacon.
Any time to-morrow will do There’s not the slight-
est danger to-night [I had a good day’s start of
them, and I can out-travel an, red-skin in these parts,
I reckon. I will go and put the rest on their guard,

 
   

and 1
and }

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with

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wo

It

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—

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 19

and you can go home and sleep to-night, but be sure
and move in the course of the day to-morrow.”

“You will certainly come in, and spend the night
with us.”

“Well, I don’t know,” returned Scout, running
his fingers through his head as if in perplexity, “I
ought to be on the move; no, deacon, I can’t stay all |
night, but p’raps I'll spend an hour or two with the
women folks. Heaven bless me, can’t them gals talk ?
It does me good to hear their tongues run.”

“Come in, and give us all the time you can spare;
they think a vast deal of you, Scout.”

“Bless their dear little souls; ’d tramp a long ways
to please em, or to keep the thievin’ redskins from
catchin’ a glimpse of em. Here, pup.”

Brave, who had been making observations with all
the dignity of his master, as if he scented danger in
the air, came soberly forward, and meekly entered the
door behind the deacon and Scout, and when all were
seated, he took his position beside his master’s chair,

Joe was, indeed, a favorite with all, whether young
or old. Aside from the incalculable service he ren-
dered the frontier, by warning the peo ‘e of medi-
tated danger, there was a blunt honesty, and a per-
fect siplicity of character about the fellow that won
its way directly to the heart of all his acquaintances.
There was something pleasing to the settlers, too, in
the manner in which he made himself at home, wher-
ever he chanced to bes. Through a range of country
numbering scores and scores of miles, everybody—
not of a coppery hue-~knew Joe, and liked him, If
he was within a halt-dozer miles of a house at noon
time, he straightway made Iie way to it, pilisd the
latehsiring, and went iu and helped himself; or if

 
   

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

there was nothing prepared, he quietly requested the
good host to set something. before him as quick as
possible... If the people were away, he had no. diffi-
culty in finding the cupboard, and more than one set-
tler had come home from a long journey and found

_ the Scout quietly munching at his table. In answer
to the housewife’s amazed looks, he complimented
some of her sauce or pies, and asked her whether
there was anything stowed away where he had not
seen it. So, too, at night, when the latch-string was
pulled in, a thundering rap on the, door called the
startled occupant. down to provide suitable accommo-
dations for the hunter upon his floor. He never would
sleep in bed. “TI allers fecl so warm,” he remarked,
“that I get nigh roasted to death.”

No one could become offended at Joe. - All under-
stood him too well for that. If he chanced to be
caught out in the woods, he understood how to nestle
close under alog. With his blanket around him, the
log partly beside, and partly above him, the “pup”
stretched on the other side—what more comfortable
couch could he wish. Then it was that he. breathed
the clear air of heaven, and had a sentinel that never
failed to warn him of impending danger. In fact, Joe
declared he would never sleep in a house at all, if it
wasn’t merely to let people know he hadn’t turned
savage entirely.

“Oh! we are so glad, Joe, that you are going to
stay over night with us!’ exclaimed both Annie and
Ellen, when he entered and took his seat. “It’s along
time since we had you here.”

“Sorry to say I can’t stay with you, gals, Pve got
a—the fact is, a little business that must be ’tended to

to-morrow—sartin.”

    

nin;
this

fix
em
jou

for

hi

Ti

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i

 
 

JOE WIKR ON THE WAR-PATH. 21

“@ fie for your business!” exclaimed Annie.. “Let
that wait; you can give us certainly one night in so
long a time as this.”

“Nike to do it, first. rate,’ said the Scout, begin-
ning to get uneasy in his seat, “ but this. ere—ahem—
this business can’t stand puttin’ off nohow you can
fix it.” :

The deacon now became fearful. that the fellow’s
embarrassment would reveal the secret he was so anx-
ious to retain. . He, therefore, deemed it best to inter-
fore at this point.

“ T have tried to persuade Joe to remain with us, but
his business is too urgent. You will have .to give
over the attempt therefore.”

“We are so sorry,” remarked Ellen. “If he can-
not, that settles the question, of course. Let me see,
Joe, it has been several months since you were last
here.” he

“Yes; aright sraart spell, when I come to think.”

“Where have you been all the time?’

“Tramping round the country, fishing, hunting
and watching of the redskins.”

“And why do you watch them so closely 2”

“You see, gals, they're. beginning to git oneasy—
ahem!” coughed the Scout terribly, afraid he had let
slip the terrible secret. “That is, the safest plan is
always to keep your eyes on them critters. They’re
powerful unreliable.”

“JT am glad you watch them so. faithfully,” re-
marked the deacon. © “There are many of us, indeed,
who owe their safety, under Heaven, to you. (A year
ago, last spring, you gaye us warning of the Andros-
cogvins, just in time for us to band together, and to
beat them back. They came down so stealthily, that

 
 

  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

had it not been for you they would have been on ué
before we could have made the least preparation”

“ And the year before that,” added Frederic, “how
nicely he helped George and me out of that scrape
my verdancy got us in?”

“Wow wis it?” inquired Annie.

“George was at work in the meadow, when I came
along with my gun, and we sat down to have a chat
together. We had been thus engaged for about
twenty minutes when George said something about
some strange noise he had heard, just: before I came,
in the woods below us. The words were yet: in his
mouth, when I heard the same sound myself. I pro-
posed that we should follow it up, and see what the
animal could be; but George held back, and. said it
looked rather too dangerous for him. The trath was,
he was afraid of Indians, and if he hadn’t been so
near the block-house, he would have left long before.
I ridiculed the idea, and finally persuaded: him to join
me. Wehad gone but afew rods, when we heard
another sound entirely different, and coming from
another direction. This alarmed George, and he
again hesitaved, but I induced him to come forward
We had taken but a few more steps, when the curious
sound was repeated, and turning my head toward the
point from which it appeared to come, I caught. sight
of the Scout’s heaa- and shoulders, peering above a
log, and making furious signs for us to retreat. It
took me but a minute to comprehend him; we knew
there were Indians in the matter, and. we turned to
run. The next minute, crack—bang—went several
guns, and three Indians darted out of the woods in
pursuit. As fate would have it, my gun was un-

 

loaded, and matters looked bad for us. All. that re- -

A

  

 
 

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR PATH. 23

mained for us was to make for the block-house, yell-
ing all the time, with every prospect of being toma-
hawked before we could reach it. Those Indians can
run like bloodhounds, and they gained upon us with
tearful rapidity... At this juncture, when [ was about
to propose to George that we should turn and give
them battle, before we were too exhausted {from run-
ning, the sharp report of a gun broke upon our ears,
and the foremost savage gave a howl, and fell hea.!-
long to the ground. This so alarmed the other two,
that they turned and fled. The shot was fired by
Scout, and proved to be just in the nick of time.”

“That was about the greenest thing I ever sced
done in all: my born days,” said the unter, when the
narration was finished. ‘I was so riled at seeing you
two boys walking right into the trap that the reptyles
had set for you, that I had a good notion to let you
havea tustle with ’em to learn you better sense.”

“Tt was the height of imprudence, indeed,” added
Gvorge, “but we learned the lesson, nevertheless.”

“J didn't notice the noise myself till pup here
called my attention, and then I knowed there was
something up.”

“Do you mean that Brave, there, notified you of
the presence of Indians?” asked Ellen.

“That's jest what I mean, gal,” returned the Scout,
with considerable pride in his voice.

‘How, in the name of common sense, did he do
that ?” ;

“Umph! how do you, gals, talk to each other ?”

All indulged in abroad smile at the Scout’s earnest-
ness, and he continued : :

“That ’ere pup understands every word I say jest

 
  

 

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

as well as any of you do; and I’can understand what
he is driving at without axing him twice.”

Joe deeming that there was a smile of incredulity
upon several of the younger faces, added :—

“Pup, go to the window, and see what kind of a
nicht it is.”

Brave walked straight across the room to the win-
duw, and stood a moment looking out at the night, as
it to note the appearance of everything, and then
quietly returned again.

“Js it raining ?”

Ile stood perfectly motionless.

“Ts thé wind blowing ?”

Not the least sign or answer did he return

“Ts it snowing ?”

Ife was still dumb.

“Ts "it clear?”

A low whine, and a wag of his tail were now
given.

“That means ‘yes,’ said the Scout.”

“Ts there a moon in the sky ?”

The same answer as to the preceding question was
given to this.

At this point Ellen went to the window, and looked
forth.

“Te is right,” said she, “there is a moon visible,
just over the tree-top in the yard.”

“Tt must be new, then,” remarked the deacon.

“ Yes, to-night is the first time I have seen it.”

“Over which shoulder?” inquired Annie.

“Rather toward my left—an unlucky omen’ isn’t
it? If the dog could only tell us its character—
that would be something of which Joe might sell
boast.’

 

  

 
JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. BW

“Just wait a minute, gals,” said the Hunter. “You
hain’t. given me .a chance to question him. Your
tongues go so fast that an old fellow like me don’t
get muchchance. I say, pup, I want to know what
kind of a moon that is. Take another good look, so

~ as to make sure.”

 

The sagacious brute again approached the window, |
and rising on his hind feet, and placing his paws on
the sill, looked up into the sky, as if carefully scru-
tinizing the features of the individual who is said to
inhabit the satellite. Then, as if fully satisfied, he
again resumed his seat beside his master. The latter
wheeled around so as to face the dog.

“ Now, pup, I want a plain answer to my question,
and nothing else. Is that a full moon ?—broad, round
and full?”

This query received no response.

“Ts it nearly full—not quite round 2”

The same dignified silence as before.

“ Ts it a new moon?”

A low whine, and a responsive wag, constituted
the instant reply to this question.

All clapped their hands with delight. Even the
deacon and his wife joined in the expressions of won-
der and admiration.

“T have never seen his equal.”

* Wonderful!”

“Who could have believed it?”

“Nothing but a dog, and he knows that much.”

Such and similar were the exclamations that fell
from the lips of all. The Scout smiled in a complacent
manner at the complete style in which his dog had
vindicated himself, while Brave seemed to view the
whole proceedings like a man who puts his hands in

 
   

  

THE BORDER SGOUT; OR,

his pockets and coolly whistles at his opponent, whom
he has vanquished by a coup de elat.

“[ spose you, don’t think he knows nothin’,” re-
marked Joe...“ That ere was all accident, wasn't: it ?”

Oh! no, we take back everything we said.’
“Te don’t understand me neither when I speak,
does he? Of course not; he’s nothin’ but a dumb
brute. He can’t make out what I mean when I speak
—of course not—oh, no !”

-“TLe’s the smartest dog I have ever seen,” remark-
ed Mrs. Holden.

“ Pup; go and thank her for that.”

Brave walked directly to the lady, and reaching up,
licked her hand in. gratitude, and then returned to his
seat.

“ T declare!” exclaimed Annie, in dismay, “he must
have understood every word that we said. If I had
dreamed that I should have been more careful. [ hope
he does not hold hard feelings against any one.”

“He don’t agin nobody but redskins; them he
can’t, like, and just. there he’s. a good deal like his
master. He's told me more than once when them red
gentlemen haye been too close, and has kept my hair
on my crown... I s'pose you folks say such critters
hain’t got souls, don’t you?”

“ No doubt of it, Joe.”

“ You may think so, but you will never make’me
believe it. Ordinary dogs, [ll allow, hain’t got no soul
in them, but you can’t preach any such doctrine to me
about, that pup 3 no, sir.”

It. was a pleasant. belief for the honest-hearted
hunter. Why seek to change it? If it afforded him
pleasure, what necessity for destroying it? Necessity
there might be, butall the eloquence of a Webster

 

 
 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 27

could not: have shaken an iota of the belief: Our
friends who sat around had no desire to do so; they
preferred to let bim indulge in his quaint and harm-
less creed.

“He is certainly no ordinary dog,” said Frederic,
after a moment’s pause. “JT suppose it would take
quite a sum to induce you to part with him.”

* Quite a sum ?”——

The hunter could not find words for his feelings,
and seeing from the expression of their faces that this
was a quiet joke, he forbore the attempt.

“ How old is he?”

‘Some six years, or thereabouts; just gettin’ in his
prime.”

“'To what breed does he belong ?”

“No breed at all; there ain’t any more like him,
and neyer will be again; den’t talk to me about
breed.”

“He looks something like the Newfoundland. I
suppose he has been of great assistance to you in trac-
ing the Indians ?”’

“J told you a minute ago that he has saved my
crown more than once. Only last summer he got me
out of one of the tightest fixes I ever got into”

“ Let us hear about it.”

“JT had been up the Penobscot a good distance, and
had just made up my mind to turn about and start
for the settlement again, when ”——

At this point, Brave arose to his feet, and went to
the window. Looking out but a moment, he turned
toward his master, and uttered a low whine.

“Do you know what that means?” asked the
Scout.

“He wishes to go outside, I suppose.”

 
   

  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

“No such thing;, he says there is a man out there.”

All started.

“Who can he be?” asked: the deacon, looking
around. ‘“ Weare all here.”

“The pup can’t give his name very well,’ replied
Joe, smiling at his own conceit, “but he says plain
enough that there isa man there sure. Just look for
yourselves.”

Both George and Frederie approached the window,
and looked forth. They. gazed intently in every direc-
tion, but failed to detect anything suspicious. The
moon was so faint, it is true, that it gave them little
assistance, but they thought if the dog could detect a
person, they assuredly ought to be able to do so.
They finally turned their heads.

“ At any rate, we can see no one.”

“Ts the fellow under the trees, pup ?”

Brave replied in the affirmative, as before.

“We will soon find out, at any rate,” said Scout,
springing up, and moving toward the door. “Come,
pup.”

The moment the door was opened the dog whisked
out and plunged toward the trees. The next. instant
an affrighted voice was heard :

“Git out—git out! I say, call your dog off.”

“Then come out here and show yourself,’ called
out the hunter.

A moment later a young man came gingerly forth.

“Js Joe Wier in there?” he asked, the moment-he
caught sight of the figure of a man near the door.
“Tere he is; what do you want. of him?”

“J waut to see you a minute, come out here.”
Scout recognized the voice as belonging to a young

 

 
 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 29

man living several miles away, whose house he occa-
sionally visited.

“Wal, Sam, what are you doing out here among
the trees? Why don't you come in thehouse and
show yourself?”

““T was lookin’ for you, and s’pected you was here,
bat [didn’t want to’go in the house till I was sure of
Tee

“Why not?”

“Come aivay, or théy’ll hear us inside. When I
go in there, them gals, Annie and Ellen,‘have a’ way
of looking at a feller that I can’t stand. That was
why I wanted first to find whether you ‘was in there.
Yow did your confounded dog know I was out
here ?”

“Smelt you, I suppose. But Sam, what do you
want to see me for ?”

“Why, Joe, to tell you the truth, last night [had a
dream about the Indians, and I felt all to-day as
though things warn’t right up among them plaguey
Ossipees and Androscoggins, and I heard you was in
tho neighborhood, and I’ve come down here. Now,
I want to know about it.”

“ Wal, Sam, I may as well tell you the truth ; there
18 a goin’ to be trouble, that’s sartin. Them Gssipees
are on the war-path, arid we may expect a visit from
them before you've seen the sun rise three times.”

“You don’t say!” exclaimed Sam, nearly springing
off his feet. “Then, we must be gettin’ ready for ’em.”

“They won't be here for twenty-four hours at least,
as I took care to get a good start of them. That'll
give you plenty time to git into the block-house and
be all prepared.”

“Fave you told the folks inside there, Joe ?”

 
  

THE BORDER scoUT; OB,

“The deacon knows about it, and I s’ pose he will
tell them in the morning, which will be soon enough.
No use of sp’iling the young folks’ sleep to-night.”

* No, I wouldn’t either ; if you tel! any of ’em don’t
tell Annie Wilson. She’s a kind of delicate CRPaLEEs
and it might—wal, it might make her nervous.’

“I shall leave it entir ely to the deacon. Wal, Sam,
do you want anything more of me ?”

“No; I believe not. Jam much obliged to you.
I won’t sleep much to-night, you may be sure.”

Thereupon Sam bade: Scout good evening, and
turned, away. The latter immediately entered the
house, accompanied, asa matter of course, by his dog.
In response to their inquiries, he informed them that
Sam Calmund wished to make a few inquiries of him.
At the mention of his name, a.smile came upon the
face of Mrs. Holden and the younger portion of the
family.

“Did he mention Annie’s name?” inquired Ellen.

“J b’lieve he did say something about her--thought
she was anice gal, or something like that.”

“Why didn't you bring him in?” inquired Annie.

“T did ask him, but he said you women folks hada
way of looking:at him that he couldn’t stand.”

A hearty laugh from all greeted that piece of infor-
mation, which the individual referred to did not, per-
haps, deem a part. of Scout's duty to communicate.

“Sam is a good-hearted. young man,” added the
deacon, “ but he don’t. seem to make a very favorable
impression in these parts.”

“T suspect his, business in. the vicinity was more to
gaima glimpseof Annie than to see you,” remarked
Frederic.

“No doubt that is the entire attraction,” said

 

 

 

 

 
 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 81

Annie, with much seriousness, “ but Ape were inter-
rupted, Mr. Wier ”--—

“Viegh! what's that?” demanded the’ Scout.

“JT was about tosay, Joe, that you were interrupted
‘in the midst of an interesting account of some exploit
of your dog’s. Lam quite anxious to hear it.”

All joined in the demands for the continuance, or
rather resumption of it, and, after some preparation,
natural to all story-tellers, he began :

‘As I was sayin’, it was some timeago, when I was
up toward the head waters of the Penobscot, and had
got so well into the redskin country that I concluded
it was time to make back tracks for the settlements.
The-pup told me he thought matters’ were beginning
to look:wather sealy, and it was his decided opinion
that we had better retreat while there was a good
chance for us. Brave’s opinion ‘on such a'point ain’t
to be sneezed at, and I informed him I’d do as he ad-
vised» So, makin’ sure that the primin’ of my gun
was right, I slung her over my shoulder, ‘and started.
I didn’t notice anything partic’lar ‘the first forenoon,
but about the middle of the afternoon—umph ! what’s
up now, pup ?”

Whether it was his innate modesty, or what might
have been the specific cause, Brave, at this juncture,
left his position, and walking straight across the floor,
placed his paws on the window-sill, looked forth and
made precisely the same demonstration that he had
done a few minutes before.

“ What is the meaning of that?” inquired the dea-
con, who’ manifested considerable uneasiness at the
singularaction of the dog.

“He sees a man again,” replied Scout. “We'll

 
     
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

THE, BORDER SCOUT; OR,

soon find out what is the meaning of this kind of per-
formance.”

Opening the door, the man and brute passed ‘out.
The nrst glimpse of the former showed “Sam” stand-
ing afew yardsaway, as if waiting for the appearance
of Scout. The latter went up to him, and asked,
rather impatiently :

“Wal, Sam, how long does it take you to ax what
you want to?”

“What's the use of gettin’ mad, Joe? I didn’t
want, to say but a word,’

“ Wal, out with it then.”

“J just. wanted to.ax nothin’ but a:simple thing.”

The Scout stood silent, waiting for the communica-
tion, and with considerable hesitation, the young man
proceeded:

“Ts Annie Wilson in there ?”

“Sartinly.”

“You hain’t told her nothin’ about the Ingins—that
is, what) you said to me 2?”

“I told you I was goigy to leave that to the
deacon.”

“Come to think, I b’lieve you did.”

“ Wal, what else?”

“ So you hain’t said nothin’ to her?”

“No, no, no!”

“ She don’t seem kind of nervous?”

* Not that I’ve noticed.’

“ Not flustered—or sca’rt like ?”’

“What do you want to know that for ?” j

“Tween you and me, Joe, Pve a partie’lar interest
in that young lady. We often think about each
other.” 5
“Yes, she spoke about you to-night.”

 
 

SS

JOK WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 838

You don't tell me; what did she say?”

“She asked me why I didn’t bring you in,”

“Bless her soul! What did you say for me?”

“J told her you said you didn’t like. the way they
Jooked at you and langhed when you were there,’

“Pshaw! what made you tell her that, Joe?”

“Cause you said so,” was the satisfactory explana-
tien.

“‘ What else’”*——

‘*Tve got no time, Sam, to talk with you. I must
sor'n leave here. What is it you wanted to ask me?”

'T just:wanted toknow whether Annie was ner-
vons.””

“Ts that all?” 2

“Nothing more. Good-night.”

“‘See here, Sam,” said the Scont, as the fellow
turned to leave, “if you can’t come inside, take my
advice and leave. That pup knows the minute you
eome near the house, and if you are out there again, I
sl.an’t call him’ off when he starts.”

“All right—good-night:”

The Scout's hand was already upon the latch-string,
when Sam turned about.

“J say, Joe, be careful and don’t let Annie get
nervous—eood-night.”

This time Sam departed in good earnest, and, our
readers will never hear of him again.

“Tt seems destined that you shall not finish your
story,” remarked the deacon, after he had entered and
explained the interruption.

“TJ'll finish this time if a whole pack of Ossipees
come yelling round the outside.

“As I’ve been sayin’ for a considerable time, it hap-
pened when the pup and me were well up the Penob-

 
  

   

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

scot, and so far in the redskin country that I warn’t
sartin Yd ever git back agin. TFindin’ things were
beginnin’* to look squally, me and the dog ‘started
for home on a purty good gait. We didn’t see nothin’,
as T b’lieve I’ve observed before, till the afternoon,
when the sigs began to git plenty. The pup kept
smellin’ the air and wagging his tail in a style that )
showed he warn’t satisfied at the way things looked:

“I kept close along the river, and went into the
water half a dozen times, so as to throw the varmints
off the scent, ifthey had really got on my trail. , That
is, I didn’t *spect to blind ’em entirely, but to bother
’em as that they couldn't come rather fast.”

“ But, Joe, you can go as fast as any Indian; I am
certain of that,” remarked Mr. Holden.

“That’s all so, deacon, but them, redskins have a
wayof sending messages through the’ air ‘to,each
other, that can out-travel the swiftest greyhound that
ever showed his heels. .There be, some high hills.in
them parts, and if a lot of the varmints should git on
one behind me they’d very soon let some more of ’em
on ‘the “hill- a) half dozen miles in front know that I
was comin’, and, of course, they’d be on the lookout.”

“But could you not avoid them?”

“Yes, sir; but I couldn’t avoid ’em and travel fast
enough to leave the varmints that might be traveling
after me.”

©] understood that fully, Joe,’ added the deacon,
“J asked that the others might. be enlightened ;. pro-
ceed, and I will not interrupt you again.”

“Tt was gettin’ well on toward sundown, and I was
wishin’ for night in the tallest kind of way, when the
pup told me that the Indians were after us and no
mistake ”

 

 
 

JOR WIER OX. THE. WAR-PATH. 85

“Let me ask you how he did that?” interupted
Annie, who was absorbed in the narrative.

“J couldn’t tell you exactly, as you hain’t larned
the language of the feller; but there warn’t any mis-
take about it; he said that, and nothin’ else.”

“ But how could ke know?” persisted the inquisi-

- tive girl.

“Te took the back trail until, I s’pose, he got a
sight of the varmints, and it was when he catched up
to me agin that he let me into the secret. The next
time I’m out ona trail-hunt you gals had better go
with me, and then, like ’nough, you'll git the A. B. C’s
of the pup’s language.

“Shortly after the pup let me know we had ’em
comin’ on behind like all fury, I struck a bluff, where
I got a squint for several miles of the river. I hadn’t
looked a dozen seconds when I seed a sight of the
varmints about a mile off, comin’ right along in my
tracks. Wal, there! that was a checrin’ sight, you
may he sure. I looked at ’em just long ’nough to be
sartin, and then we tore down the bluff, and struck a
line for the settlements.

“Tt was lucky that night was so close at hand. The
sun had already dropped behind the woods, and it
warn’t long before I know’d the redskins couldn’t fol-
ler me if they'd put on spectacles. This give me a
good start, and I know’d ’nough to make the best use
of it: When it was fairly dark I swam the river, and
as soon as J touched the other side I began. walking,
and never stopped till the sun came over the hills.
Then, as I'd been trampin’ all day and all night, I felt
a little tired”

“ And hungry, too, I'll warrant ?”

“Considerable; but that warn’t worth mindin’; I

 

 
THE BORDER sCOUT; OR,

was good for three days without a mouthful, and so
was the pup. Howsumever, he lit on a toad or some
reptile occasionally, and so kept his innards from
cavin’ in entirely. I didn’t dare shoot a gun, for
that would have brought ’em about my earsin a half
hour.

“Wal, I went to sleep, and never woke up till
noon, when the pup was rubbing his nose in my face.
He'd been on the back trail agin, and found out that
we'd have to tramp powerful to save our top-knots. I
didn’t lose any time; but slung my rifle over my
shoulder, and started. Every once in a while the pup
took the back track, and if I hadn’t known any other
way, I could have told by-the short time he was ab-
sent, that the varmints warn’t far off.

“Along in the afternoon, spite of all I could do,
they were gaining on me fast. TI lost'so much time in
takin’ to the water, and dodgin’, and tryin’ to cover
up my trail, that I came ‘powerful’ near bein’ catched
three different times. "To make things worse, J
sprained my ankle, and it began to hurt so after g
while that I lost ground faster than ever. When tho
pup noticed my fix he got anxious. _ He had helped
me hide my trail by rumplin’ the leaves behind me,
so that my tracks couldn’t be seen. _Howsumever, his
couldn’t be covered up, and that sarved the’ varmints
just as well, as they know'd we was together.

“When I was about used up an idea struck me.

teaching a stony place on the edge of the river, I
stepped out and hid under ‘a tree that ran out from the
shore: I then motioned to the pup not to follow me,
but take another course. He catched the hint at once,
and went right ahead, rumplin’ the leaves harder than
ever.

 
 

 

JOH WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 37

“Wal, ’'d been there about five minutes, when
along they came—a whole pack of redskins. They
‘Never stopped, but went right on, and I grinned
Mighty powerful when I thought how nice the pup
Was foolin’’em. I staid there all night, when the pur
tame back again. He know’d he'd blinded them r
tals sure *nough. ;

“We got an old log into the water, floated all night,
‘{nd by mornin’ was so near the settlements that we
) ras safe—heigh! I must be off.”

The Scout was pressed by Mrs. Holden and the
Younger part of the family to remain for the night;
but, he declined, saying he had some errand to deliver
down the road, which must be attended that evening,
and taking his rifle from the corner, he called his dog,
‘tnd bidding the family good night, he left the house,
Proceeding : with long strides and a swinging gait on
his route.

After he had left, Mr. Holden revolved the matter
ut his mind, whether he should make his family ac-
‘quainted with the unwelcome tidings he had received
that evening, or wait until the morning before he
divulged them. And yet he wished to consult with
them, for notwithstanding the assurances of the Scout

€ felt strongly inclined to take up his abode in the
Mock-house that night. The fam ly noticed his ab
Straction and unusu: at gravity, and his wife, in a tong
of some apprehension, (ad Gadd him:

“Tiusband, what is the matter? -There is some-
U ing preying on your mind. I am fearful the Scout
Was the bearer of bad news.”

“Tt is too true, Abby,” replied Mr. Holden, after a
brief pause. “Ihave received evil tidings. by him.”

 

 
  

  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

And he related to the eager listeners what the Scout
kad told to him.

“ And now what shall we do?” he added, “Shall
we remove to-night, or”

Remove by all means to-night!” broke in Mrs. th
ITolden, who was constitutionally timid—*let us flee
to the block-house, dear husband!”

“Yes, uncle, let us go,” added Annie Wilson, i0
tones of earnestness. “Remember the poor Bryant
family in Gorham, whose delay proved so fatal 10
them!”

“What say you, George and Ellen?” asked Mr. |
Holden.

“Why, father, I do not think there is much dan-
ger to-night,” replied his son, “and ' yet—per
hi \ps”-—— th,

“What is your opinion, Frederic?” said Ellen, ine
terrupting her brother, and tarning to the person ad
dressed, evincing by her tone and manner that shé
should be governed by his decision.

“As for myself,” replied Hancock, “I have sul
perfect confidence in the Scout, that I should follow
his advice and remain here. If the danger were im-
minent, he is not the man to lull us into false sect
rity. Besides, the hour is getting late, and it would)
take us some time to get ready for a start. If ther®)
iss;danger abroad, we should. be more exposed to it 0?
the road than here. I am for) remaining. Georg%
and I will keep watch through the night, ‘and I will
answer that'no harm will be fall us.” |

After discussing the subject, it was finally resolved,
not to leave the house that night, but that early i#}}
the morning they would pack up and depart. They
doors were then strongly barricaded—fire-arms wef,

 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 
    
   
   
   
 

  
   
 

1

WW

 

JOK WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 29

Sot ready for instant use—and after a more than usu-
“ily fervent prayer from the deacon, the family re-
Mired, save the young men. The night, however,

Passed without disturbance, although the anxiety of

‘the inmates rendered their slumbers broken and rest-

legs.

CHAPTER III.
‘THE BLOCK-HOUSE.

With the first dawn of day every inhabitant of the
*ttlement was astir, and at an early hour teams,

loaded with household utensils, were on their way to

the block-house. The settlement only contained
‘even families; but although the fort was quite eapa-
fious, yet, it must be confessed, it afforded rather
flose quarters. Throughout the day there was a con-
‘tant passing to and fro, and notwithstanding the ap-

 

Prehensions all felt, the excitement of removing and
disposing of the furniture of the different families
feated not a little animation, and the light, merry

langh of Ellen, and the jovial humor of George, served
Admirably to enliven the spirits of all.

“By jabers!” said a son of the Green Isle, em-

Ployed by one of the settlers, who seemed greatly
Puck with the conduct of Ellen, “she’s a broth of a

Sirl, and thinks no more of the bloody hathen ana

} cir tomahawks than I would of meeting a Con-
}Mueht boy with his shillelagh. She’s true grit, any-
7 Aow 179

4) Pat was right. Ellen was not one to borrow trouble,
FP to give way to wmecessary fears.

 
 

    

40 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

“It is time enough to turn pale, and to let youll
teeth chatter, you silly puss, when the war-whoop
rings in your ears, and the scalping-kunife flashes be
fore your eyes!” she said, laughiuely to her cousit
whose nervous apprehension was too apparent to be
disouised. . ;
It was not out of bravado that Ellen made light off
the matter. She did it for the purpose of cheeringy
ber mother and cousin, both of whom needed some}
thing to enliven their spirits. i

By noon the removal was completed, and the farm
ture arranged. Tl

 

 
  
 

he cattle were driven inside they
palisade, and a watch detailed. The block-hous®)
was fifty feet square. Its second story jutted out 4)
little over the first, and, instead of windows, wa]
pierced with port-holes, to be used in case of an at
tack. A tower sprung from the centre of the build
ing, in which was monated a small swivel on a pivot.
The stockade that sarrounted the house was so higah
that the Indians cond not climb over it, and the post
placed so neur tugetier taut they could not gol /
through it. Care had been taken that the post)
should not be of a size to afford protection to the foe}
A man could not sereen himself behind them, with)
out leaving some part of his body exposed. Ths
cattle were protected from the shots of the enemyy
by a pen of logs. .

After the bustle consequent upon the change of E
quarters had subsided, and the inmates found, time te
reflect upon their situation, a spirit of gloom settled
upon the party, The uncertainty as to the length OF
their imprisonment was no small source of discom]
fort. It might be months—nay, years—beforer ey
could retura to their homes. In repeated instaaceayy
they weil knew, the inhabitants of other setuemen¥h
had been kept close prisoners for two aad three years
not daring to venture out to till the ground, aud sult
fering the severest want; “tor months,” as the old)
chroniclers tell us, “not tasting bread or meate”

 

 

 

 

  
 
  

 
JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 41

ae _ Such, in all probability, they felt, would be their fates
and the brooded despondinely on fields run to waste,

7 ' on habitations committed to the flames, and on cattle
be fF shot down or driven off. This last evil, quite as

serious as others mentioned, they were especially
fp. subjected to; for it was impossible, for want of
ot ;
room, to lay in fodder sufficient. to keep their eattle
inside the stockade for any length of time, there-
' fore, as soon as that gave out, there was no other
eg: TeSUrce left but to drive them out to seek their own
food.

 

i They did not much fear the result of an attack on
"7 the block-house. It was so strongly fortified that,
qj) With due swatebfulness, they felt it to be impregnable.
: Sometimes these fortresses had been carried, when#

‘a | fire had been employed as one of the dreadful agents

ob of destruction. Asa general thine, however, the In-
if dians would lurk in ambush, with a dogged perse-
ie verance for months around these garrisons, for the
St

purpose of starving out their inmates, or of shooting
ig) down or making prisoners of those who should rashly
venture out.

Le It was impossible to foretell the quarter whence
h the attack would be made. Every clump of bushes

 

@ 3
ny might be a covert for the enemy—every tree conceal
| afoe. In the very grass, snake-like, they might hide,
off Springing up and attacking you unawares. You only
‘ knew you were surrounded by an unseen foe—and
toy
oll how much more dreaded ‘from being invisible!—

4) liable at any moment to be attacked; not in openand
“}  honorable warfare—if fare is honorable—b
qv) bonorable warfare—if any warfare is honorable—but
| secretly and treacherously, and stricken down as the
|

midnight assassin strikes down his victim.

03, | ; ‘
‘un The afternoon ‘passed away without any signs of
6
e the enemy. Indeed, they had no apprehension of

| _ their appearance in the day time, although it was not
| uncommon for men and women to be shot down at
their very thresholds at midday, or a child to be
_ Snatched away from the door-steps. Generally, how-

4

 

  
 
 
 
    

 

 

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

ever, the Indias selected for the time of attack an
hour two before 4ay-break, as they deemed that the
slumbers of the’ intended victims were then the
soundest.
Young Holden amt Hancock assumed the duty of
watchmen the firs, nioht. Their station was in the
tower, which com nanded & view of nearly the whole
settlement, as well as a lone reach of the river. Be-
fore ascending to their look-out, the young men
joined the rest of the inmates, who had assembled in
the dining-hall, to perform their evering devotions.
In the absence of the stated minister. the deacon con-
ducted the services, which were closed. by ail uniting
in a hymn of praise, after which, at an ear'v hour, all,
Pkave the two watchers, sought repose, a and silence
reigned throughout the house. Tt ivasa lovely night.
The moon was nearly at hor full, and field, forest and
river were bathed in a flood of light. Every object
was distinctly visible in the clearing, and the distant
river, unruffled by the breeze, shone. like a vein of
burnished silver, save near its banks, where the shrub-
bery obstructed the rays of the moon, the water ap-
peared of inky blackness. Every tree and bush threw
a deep shadow on the ground, and oftentimes the
young men imagined they detected the lurking foe in
these obscure patches. Not a sound was heard to
break the silence, which was almost oppressive, cx-
cept that at distant intervals the melancholy hooting
of the night-owl came faintly from the depths of the
forest. At one time, about ten o'clock, the attention
of the young men was aroused by what seemed the
baying of a doe afar off.

“Do you hear that, Fred?” asked George, in s
whisper, holding his breath, and. listening for a repe
tition of the sound.

“ Yes,” replied Hancock, after a pause, “il
sounded like the baying of a dog. Bis it could
not be that.”

“Why not?”

   
   

 

  
 

 

 

JOH WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 43

“ Because the Indians would not bring. their
dogs with them on a night attack, or if they did,
they have trained their animals so well that they
would never betray their presence in such a noisy
manner.” .

“ What could it be, then?”

“Probably the bark of a wolf, or the cry of some
wild animal. But, by heavens! there is something
moving in the shadow of the bushes yonder!” and
he pointed to a small clump that stood just ont of the
forest, some hundred yards from the block-house.

“this a passing breeze that moves the foliage, a
shifting of the shadow. I have been deceived by ita
number of times,” whispered George.

“No, I'll stake my life that was notit. Look,
look! there it is again! See to the priming of your
gun, George !”

The eyes of the young men were now intently fixed
on the clump of bushes ; but for a while nothing could
be detected to confirm their suspicion. Presently,
however, a tall figure was seen to dart across the patch
of moonlight betiveen the bushes and the forest, and in
a moment. was lost to sight.

“Tt was an Indian,” said George, hurriedly, “ they
are prowling around us! Had T not better arouse
them below ?”

“Not yet—let us wait.a while. The fellow is evi-
dently reconnoitering. He is coming this way. Stand
in the corner, George, out of the light, or the scamp
may give you a taste of cold lead.”

For half an hour or more nothing was seen of the

_skulker. Searching glances were sent in every direc-
tion, and their ears were bent to catch the slightest
sound, but nothing was seen or heard to denote the
presence of a‘living beg. The young men seareely
drew a long breath, so completely was their attention

_ absorbed.

“He must have gone the other way,” said George,
in a scarcely audible tone.

   

 

 
44 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

The words had not fairly left his lips, when a slight
neise was h-ard outside the palisade, at that part
where the shadows rested, and presently a voice was
heard, speaking in a subdued tone: :

“ Ffalloo, there!”

No reply was made, and again the voice was heard:

“Tn the tower there—are you asleep ?”

The voice was immediately recognizéd, and a joyful
exclamation burst simultaneously from the young
men.

“The Scout! The Scout!”

“Whist, whist! youngsters—there may bé more
ears in the neighborhood than mine. Sound travels
mighty far on a still nicht, especially near the water.
But one of you come down to the palisade for a mo-
ment. Don’t disturb the elders, [ve only a word of
caution to give you.”

Tancock immediately descended, and invited the
old man inside.

“No,” replied the Scout, “I mugt go along a
piece, where I will camp out. My old bones would
not rest well on a softer couch than pine boughs.”

“But how did you approach the block-house 2?”
asked Frederic. “We kept vigilent watch, we
thought, in all directions, but did not see you, except
when you left the bushes out yonder.”

“Wal, youngster, it is one of the tricks I larnt of
the cunning sarpints. Tiley are snaky critters, them
redskins, aud a plaguy sight worse than the rattle-
snake, for they do not give warning before they
strike.” f

“But what brought you here, Scout? All seems
quiet to-night—is there anything astir ?”

“'There’s no telling, the -varmints are so desateful.
But I reckon they will not disturb you to-night Dye 7
been scrummaging around here this hour or more, and
have seen no signs of them. I was giad to find that
you had taken my advice. My object in callingas I 7

_ passed was to caution you to be on your guard.”

 

   
 

eee

 

 

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 45

“We shall be careful—depend upon that,” said
Haneock.

“Yes, youngster, you may be for a while, but peo-
ple grow restless and venturesome after a time. Find-
ing you have taken an alarm, the skulking rascals may
hang round here for weeks and months, ‘watching for
an opportunity to ee upon you. : vie the rep-
tyles well, and I charge you, and tell the rest on ’em,
to be watchful. When you think ue es the most
secure, one of the painte | devils may be at your elbow,
with his cursed tomahawk ready to brain you. Good-
night, youngster, and don’t forget what I’ve said to
Ou

Thus saying, the old fellow dropped slowly on the
ground, and for a little while was seen worming his
way toward the forest. In a few minutes, however,
nota sign vould be discovered that there was a living
thing in the neighborhood. Frederic again ascended
to his post, not a little relieved of the anxiety that so
lately pressed upon him.

CHAPTER IV.
SABBATH IN THE Woops.

Would the reader like to take a moonlight flitting
through the forest? We feel greatly inclined to fol-
low in the footsteps of the Scout—it is such a glorious
night, and the moonbeams, falling on and through
the parti- -colored leaves, present such fine effect. The
foliage is somewhat thinned out, so that the forest
paths are illuminated with that “ dim, religious light ”
which tends so poe to impress the heart with
chaste and hallowed feelings. Nowhere is the mind
so powerfully affected with a solemnity, almost
amounting to awe, as in the depths of the forest, par-
py in that season when the leaves begin to fall

 
 

46 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

At each step there arises a muffled sommd from the dry
and fallen foliage which is displaced by your tread,
and all around you the licht breeze moves the tree-
tops, eliciting a sound Jike the gently rippling sea—
while the withered leaves are constantly flitting
through the air; gentle monitors, reminding you of
your own deeay, and whispering in your ear with
startling earnestness the prophetic declaration, “ we.
all do fade as the leaf!”

Men talk of being subdued and awed when tread-
ing the aisles of vast cathedrals. But what are those
puny works of man, compared with the vast forest
sanctuaries— God's first tenples?” Beautifully has
our own Bryant said:

“The groves were God’s first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave)

And spread the roof above them; ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and rol] back

The sound of anthems, in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down

And offered to the Mightiest, solemn thanks

And supp'ications. For his simple heart

Might not resist the sacred influences,

Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,

And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once :
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
Ilis spirit with the thoughts of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty.”

Tt is not the educated and refined alone who are
subjected to these influences—the unlettered and un-
polished share in them. The rude hunters of the pe-
riod of which we write, dwelling apart from men,
and in constant warfare, with the wild beast, or the as
wild savage, were touched by them. There was
something in those dim solitudes which solemnized

 

 

 
 

 

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 47

their hearts, and moulded their spirit to worship.
Rude as they were—habituated as they liad been to
the lonely life of the wilderness—they could not re-
sist the ‘sacred influences” of the place.

There is, not far from the city where the writer re-

sides, a beautiful sheet of water bearing the somewhat
singular name of “Sabbath Day Pond!” Tradition
informs us that this pond derived its name from a
number of hunters, who used to hunt for beaver ou
the neighboring streams and the wild game of the
forest, and who agreed to meet at this pond to keep
the Sabbath. This was the destination of the Scout,
and the main purpose of his journeying so late in the
night was to meet his brother hunters the next morn-
ing at the chosen spot. We mention these facts, not
that they have any particular connection with our
story, but merely to give the reader a clearer view of
th character of one who will be found a prominent
actor in it, and to show that, though belonging to a
semi-civilized class, leading a wild, unrestrained life,
he, too, was touched by “those reverential feelings
which nature in some of her aspects fails not to in-
spire.

We said we felt greatly inclined to follow the Scout,
but, leaving him to pursue his solitary journey, we
must return to the block-house, where the main inter-
est of our story lies.

As the Scout surmised, the night passed without
disturbance. The next day being Sabbath, a marked
stillness reigned throughout the building. Every
movement seemed regulated by the sanctity of the
day. There was a staidness in the deportment of all,
from the oldest to the youngest, that evinced the deep
respect they paid to holy time. The religious senti-
ment predominated with the early New England set-
tlers, and marked them.a peculiar people. “The his
torian tells us that “the proprietors of the towns,
when they had but their fort and_garrison, took care

 

 
 
 

43 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

to have the public worship of God maintained in it
on the Sabbath.”

Divine service was held in the forenoon and afier-
noon, conducted in a very respectable manner by
Deacon Holden. It consisted in reading the Serip-
tures, prayers, singing and exhortation. After the
services were concluded, Frederic and George as-
cended the tower, where they were soon joined by
Ellen and Annie. It «as in the depth of the “In.
dian summer,” and it was one of those warm, deli-
cious days peculiar to vhe season. There was a slight
haze in the atmosph~ve, not enough to obscure the
view, but just sufficient to soften down and mellow
the scene—like a delicate veil thrown over a beau-
tiful woman, not concealing but enhancing her
charms.

The view spread out before the party was uusur-
passingly grand and beautiful. Around them the
foreat stretched away for miles, gorgeously colored, as
if « thousand rainbows were entangled in its meshes,
wile far in the distance, forming a vast amphitheatre,
tie misty hills shot up their purple heights intv the
we, To quote again from Bryant:

‘The mountains that infold
In their wide sweep the colored landscape round,
Scem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold,
That guard the enchanted ground,”

_ In front of them, with here and there a tree :mter-
persed, the clearing sloped to the margin or the
riyer, which in graceful bends flowed, now calmly in
gleaming splendor, and now in sparkling ripples, as
it broke over some mimic fall, while all along its
banks the still water reflected the variegated tints of
the trees and shrubbery that bent over it. It seemed
like some enchanted siream, whose bed was paved
with gold, and encrusted with myriad gems, whose
brilliant colora lent to the tide their various hues

*

  

   
 
   

 
 

 

 
  
 

  

  
 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 49

} Nota breath of air was stirring, nor a sound heard,
j ‘0 disturb the tranquility of the scene.

| ‘Beautiful! gloriously beautiful!” exclaimed El
} len. in a subdued tone, after gazing awhile spell-bound
with the sight.
' © You look sad, Annie,” said George, stepping to
the side of his cousin—“how can you be so, with
8uch a scene before you?”

“Not sad, George, but there is a strange feeling
thrills me when I gaze upon such a scene of splendor
as we now behold. I have vague yearnings for—I
know not what,” and a faint smile illuminated her
countenance. ‘

“They are common to us all, Annie,’ remarked

Frederic. “Who has not been oppressed. with the
gorgeousness of an autumnal sunset, and felt almost a
Willingness as the light slowly faded that so his life
) micht melt away?” ,

“The emotions experienced on such occasions,
Frederic, are vastly different from those excited by
_ the present scene,” remarked Ellen—* at least I am
} differently impressed. At the hour of sunset, as the
golden light fades away, and the atmosphere so lately
surcharged with lustre becomes dim, I am: filled with
) an overpowering dreariness. The deepening shadows
that stretch like a funeral pall over the lately glowing
Scene, seem to penetrate and veil my heart, shrouding
itin gloom. I feel-as if gazing into a vast sepulchre—
as,if a visible eternity, mysterious and awful, were
spread out before me. No wonder you smile, Fred-
eric, at my having such feelings!”

“ And how does this scene affect you?” asked Han-
eock.

“Tt raises my thoughts to a brighter, purer, more
glorious world, of which it seems the type—only in that
higher sphere there will be no change.”

“T believe it is the idea of the transitoriness of the
yomp that surrounds us that imbues me with melan-
choly. Isigh to think that such a show of magnifi-

 

 
THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

cence will, in a few days, pass away like a brilliant
dream,’’ said Annie.

“ But only to give place to other displays, Annie,”
sail George; “does not that thoueht cheer you?”

“Tet us have some music!” said Ellen, suddenly.
“Think of some hymn, Frederic, suitable to the day
and the scene.”

The proposition was at once acceded to, and soon
the sweet soprano of Ellen, and the rich alto of Annie,
mingled with the mellow tenor of Frederic, and the
full, deep bass of George, in one of those grand old
German chorals, which seem to embody the very soul
of harmony. The following was the commencing
stanza of the hymn :

“O Lord, our heavenly King,
Thy name is all divine ;
Thy glories round the earth are spread,
And o’er the heavens they shine.”’

Their voices blended harmoniously, and the sceue,
the hour, and the words so appropriate to the occa-
sion, together with the full, stately music, seemed to
inspire the singers. As the song rose on the stilly
air, first one, and then another of the inmates stepped
out into the enclosure, until at, last all were gathere:
in front of the block-house, listening with rapt atteu-
tion to the sublime strains.

“Tt is well, my dear children,” said Deacon Holden,
in a tone of gratification, as the last note diced away.
“A most fitting song, and, we trust, an acceptable
one to ‘our Heavenly King.’ Let us all unite now
in my favorite tune—you ‘all know it,” and those in
the tower taking the lead, the whole assembly joined
in singing that noble composition—Luther’s cele-
brated Judgment Hymn. And so closed the first
Sabbath in the block-house.

 

ys

Pat

 

 

 

    

    

ae ae er
jant

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1a,

lay

on.
Lie,
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yal
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ee

a

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 61

CHAPTER VY.
THE CAPTURE.

A number of days passed without any signs of the
Indians. Frequently those to whom confinement was
irksome would venture outside the palisade, taking
care to go well armed; and growing every day more
bold, w: ould visit their ‘fields and dwellings, making
repairs, etc., half-resolving to return to them azain.

' Hancock urged upon them, from time to time, the

warnings of the Scout, but this did not restrain them.
It nay be supposed that, to the younger portien of
the [olden family, the restraint to which they wre
subjected was borne very patiently. They found re-
lief in each other’s society, and the constant con-
tact into which they were thrown, tended to mature
those mutual sentiments of regard at which we have
hinted.

A week had nearly: elapsed since they had taken
refuge there, when one afternoon Ellen proposed
to Geor ge a visit to their home. She had left
behind some articles which she wanted. George
readily agreed to the proposal, but Hancock, who,
at the moment, entered the room, protested strongly
against their going.

«There is not the least danger, Fred,” said Holden.
“A aamber of the settlers have been out all the fore-
noou, and some of them have scoured the woods. I
have my doubts, after all, if old Joe was not mistaken,
and drove us in here, like a flogk of frightened sheep,
without any cause.” %

“No, no; depend upon it, George, he is not the
wan to do that,” replied Hancock, with much earnest-
ness. “ There i is danger abroad or he would not have
warned us. Remember his parting injunction, He

SS

4

 
 

   

   

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

knows better than we do the character of the Indian,
and the arts they employ to lall their intended victims
to sceurity.

“ Well, Nell, what do you say? ? remar — George.
“Tam willing ‘to run the chance if you are

“There can be no danger, Prec erie,” sat Ellen,
turning toward Hancock, “else why have you ven«
tured out for the last two days? Even now you have
just come in from the woods. I was watehing you,
ant what you have said was only intended to frighten
me.

“ T went ot sutt, Ellen, on an erran: ad to my Saale, and
Ihave the means to protect myself. I took a civeuit
in the woods merely to assure myself that the savages
were not lurking in the neizhbor! hood.””

“ But you detected no sigus of them 2?”

“Not the least.”

“Then I may surely go in safety,” rejoined Hllen.
“Ah, Fred, you are fond of teasin 1g one!” and she
gave him an arch smile.

“No, dear Hilen,” he replied, in a tone which
brought the warm ple ish to fie cl heok of the maiden,
who ‘only heard his words, “but when not only your
life but my happiness i is;at stake, can you blame me
for undue appreiens sion? But go, if you will; I shall
wait anxiously for your return. ~ Woal d that I could
go with you.”

“Never you fear, Hancock, we shall be back in
good season to laugh at your fears,” said George,
gaily, and shoulderin; x his rifle; he and Ellen left the
block-house, and proceeded on their way.

The house of Mr. Tolden was about half a mile
from the Fort, and was hidden from the sight of those
in the block-house by,a@ grove, through which a path
led to it. Into this path the brother ‘and sister were
seen to enter, and then were lost to sight.

Hrederie would gladly have accompanied the party,
but at tie time his father re: quired. his presence. .Ai-
though satisfied by personal scratiny that no immi-

   

 
 

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR PATH. 53

nent .meser threatened them, yet he felt ill at ease,
and, after a short time elapsed, he would from time to
time go to the eee in his room, which com-
manded a view of the clearing, to wateh for their re-
turn. Nor was he the only anxious watcher. Annie
Wilson had not heard of the excursion until the par-
ties had left,and her apprehensions were tenfold greater

than Hancock's. Immediately on hearing it she vis-
ited the tower, and eagerly watched the grove whence
they would issne on their return.

“ How conld he be so rash!’ she murmured to her
self, with pallid lips, “after all the warning we have
had?” ad Gate her cheek on her hand, with her
eyes fixed in one direction, she gave way to every
fear which an active imagination could call up. At
one time she imagined him—for she thought only of
George—a prisoner in the hands of the red men, bound
and scourged ; again she pictured him, chained to the
stake, surrounded with combustibles, his infuriated
captors dancing around him in fiendish g ee ; and then
again she beheld him lying mangled and lifeless on
the ground. So intently was she absorbed in Georse’s
fate, she had not a thought to bestow on the situation
of Ellen.

She had sat thus for some time, buried in painful
reverte—she knew not how long—when she was start-
led by what sounded like a distant scream. She rose
hastily to her feet, when the faint report of a gun came
from the vicinity of the grove—at the same moment
she saw two or three men in the clearing stirt, as if in
alarm, in the direction of the block -house. Scarcely
waiting to take a second glance, with trembling limbs
and totteri ing steps, the half-distracted girl “rushed
from the tower, and in a few moments, pale with
affricht, stood in the presence of Hancock

“They are attacked! they are attacked! Oh, save

} him, Frederic, save him!” she cried, in agonizing

 

tones, raising her hands beseechingly.
Hancock did not stop to question her, but burst-

 

 

 

 
 

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

ing into another room, where three or four young men
were assembled, he s houted :

“My rifle, my rifle! Ellen is taken—follow me, all
of you!” and bounding from the room, he was soon
ontside of the defences, and on his way down the
slope, ere tuose whom he addressed had sufficiently
recovered from their astonishment to obey him.

‘With a speed rivaling that of a deer, he: pressed
toward the grove. w! hile far in the rear three or four
others followed in hot pursuit, vainly endeavoring to
overtake him.

On entering the little patch of woods, the young
man checked his speed, and strove to collect his
thoughts, which were in a whirl of excitement, that he
mizht form some plan of action. It was some time
before he, could still the tumult of his brain, wrought
almost to frenzy with the idea of Ellen’s seizure. As
Annie’s sole thoughts were fixed on Georg? when she
“implored Heneock’s aid, in like munner were Fred-
erie’s concentrated on Ellen. It was her peril alone
that filled his mind. He had not stopped to question
Annie's statement, but had rushed forth on the im-
pulse of the moment, believing that Ellen was in dan-
ger. But now, on looking aro Sund him, and observing
the perfect quiet that prevailed—per esivine nothing
to indicate the presence of the foe—no signs of a
recent strugole—it first struck him that Annie might
have been mistaken. He had not heard the scream or
the report of the gun, and the query arose in his
mind, how should Annie know that an attack had
been made?

A short distance in front of him stood the house, the
front door of which was open, as if the party for whose
safety he was so much interested were inside. His
fears in some measure subsided at sight of this, and as
he drew near he listened, expecting to hear Hllen’s
well-known laugh, and watched the open door, anti-
cipating her appearance. Ashe approached the daor an

    
   

a

  

 
|

 

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 55

object met his eye which sent the blood curdling to his
heart.

A few rods from the house, toward the banks of the
river, he discovered on the ground the body ofan In-
dian. On his forehead was the mark of a bullet, which
had perforated his brain. As Hancock drew near he
saw a portion of Ellen's dress fluttering in his hand,
clutched as in a death-grasp. The truth at once flashed
upon him. The savage had seized her, and had met
his death from George’s rifle. But where were they?
He wildly shouted their names. Again and again he
valled upon them, but no answer came. His brain
reeled as the terrible truth was forced upon him that
she had been murdered. He shuddered as he looked
around him, fearing that his glance might fall on her
mangled remains. Racked by an almost insuperable
agony, he stood by the corpse of the savage, gazing
distractedly in various directions, when the men who
followed him came panting to his side.

“Oh, God! what shall be done, Pearson? They
have murdered her!” said Hancock, in a hollow tone,
addressing the foremost of the party. “Look, some
of you, look for her body!” and he leaned against a
tree, for the moment completely prostrated in body
and mind.

He had not the slightest doubt of Ellen’s fate; for,
maddened by the fall of one of their band, the savages
would not hesitate at once to despatch her. This
was the conclusion which fastened itself upon his
mind. Frederic was naturally firm, and not easily
shaken, but the certainty he felt of shortly being called
upon to gaze upon the idol of his heart, horribly de-
spoiled by the cruel scalping-knife—the fair “ temple
of her brain” shattered by the murderous tomahawk
—entirely overpowered him. He recovered himself
shortly, Qaipenes although the pallor of his cheek and
the quiv-ring of his lip too plainly told the inward
struggle.

The party had immediately disappeared in search

 
  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

of the supposed dead bodies of their friends, anc for
some minutes had been thus employed, when an ex-
clamation from one of them, who had followed up the
bank of the stream, arrested the attention of all.
“There they are—there they are! She’s alive
They've taken her prisoner! I see her in the bows.”
There was an instantaneous rush, and all eyes were
directed to the spot indicated by the speakes

'

Far up the river, close in shore, as if to escape obser-

vation, a canoe was seen, rapidly propelled by two sav-
ages. Ji front sat a female, immediately recognized
by Frederic as Ellen. Casting but one quick glance
at the fugitives, Frederic bounded from the spot, and
and plunged into the woods.

There was a long bend in the river just here, and
quite a narrow portage cut off along distance. Han-
cock’s movement, therefore, was at once divined.

“ He's gone to head them off,” said young Pearson.
“JT will follow him, and the rest of you had better be
looking around to see if you can find anything of
George.”

Scarcely heeding the obstacles in his path, Frederic
pressed forward with incredible speed. Leaping over
fallen trees, over broken rocks, forcing his way
through thicket and bush--on, on he went, until he
crossed the portage. He was not a moment too soon.
As he burst through the last clump of bushes, and
stood on the margin of the stream, which at this part
was quite narrow, the canoe, urged forward by two
powerful Indians, was nearly abreast of him. As quick
as thought he levelled his rifle, but at the same instant
the forward savage dropped his paddle, sprang up,
aud seizing Ellen, raised her in front of him.

“Speak! Tell him,” shouted the Indian in the ear
of the terrified girl—* tell him shoot ’em Indian, me
kill ’em squaw!” and he brandished the tomahawk
threateningly over her head.

“Do not fire, dear Frederic!” exclaimed the
trembling girl. “ He threatens to kill me if you do!”

 

    

   
 
  

 

 

 

   
 
 
 
 
  

    
 
   
   
 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 5?

An instant more and the caution would have been

too late, for already had Hancock sighted the Indian

_ In the stern, and his finger was pressed hard against the

} (riecer. But the consequences of such an act flashed

' Suddenly upon him, and he refrained. Well he knew

(t was no idle threat of the savage, and with a shudder,

| he lowered his rifle. The Indian, however, as if dis- .
trusting him, still stood with the deadly weapon up- %
taised to. strike, the canoe, in the meanwhile, moving
slowly on her course.

“Killen, dear Ellen!” exclaimed Frederic, in tones
of bitter anguish, “must I leave you in their hands?
God knows, I would willingly sacrifice my life to save

/ yours!”

“JT do not doubt it, Frederic! but what can you
do?”

“Nothing, nothing, dear girl!” said Hancock—

3G

f

, but I will not abandon you; I will rescue you, or

| die in the attempt.”
| “Ido not think my life is in danger. Cheer up
} Mother as weil as you can, and tell her that you lett
me in good spirits. God bless you, Frederic—per-
| haps you ean find some way to release me.”
} ‘“{ will, I will,” shouted Frederic, for the distance
| } had greatly increased between them. At that mo-
| Ment he thought of George, and he questioned Ellen
} fespecting bim.
| She pointed with ber arm up the river, and
} “vounded—captive,’ were all the words he could
P Catch.
| Some distance from where Frederic was stationed, 4
‘the river made round a high bluff, and flowed in a*
7 different direction, Hancock stood watching the re-
| eding boat, which bore away all he held dear in life
} The Indian had lowered his weapon, but. still stood
With Ellen in frontof him. The bark approached the
} bluff, and just as it floated from sight, Ellen raised
] her hand to her lips and waved it toward Frederic.
1 He had hardly time to return the signal, when the

  
 

    
   
   
    
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
     
   

    

58 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

canoe passed around the high point. For one or two 7
minutes Hancock remained, with his gaze fixed on |
the spot last occupied by the little vessel, then turned J
with a heavy heart to retrace his steps. i

CHAPTER VI.
ON TUE TRAIL.

The agony of Mrs Holden and Annie we should
vainly attempt to describe. As one and another 0
the party who had gone out in pursuit returned to the
block-house, they were met by Mrs. Holden and
Annie, who vainly strove to obtain a gleam of hope
as they wildly questioned them in regard to the miss-
ing ones; and when at last Hancock returned, and
brought certain tidings of their fate, their cup of an-
guish was filled to overflowing.

In the frenzy of her grief the mother rapidly paced
the room, wildly wringing her hands, and frantically
calling the names of her children.

“Give them back, give them back, O God! and
leave me not childless!” was her frequent passionate
exclamation. j

Poor’ Annie, in the meanwhile, having heard the
worst, stood pale and statue-like, a moan of distress
breaking from time to time from her lips. The blow
had stupefied her. She hada sense of some great
calamity having befallen her—the shadow of a fearful
wo darkened her soul, and bewildered her brain. It 7
wis piteous to see her press her hand to her forehead,
and then look around confusedly, as if to inquire into
tbe nature of this terrible bereavement.

The good deacon strove, hard to keep control of his
feclings, and to administer comfort to his partner}

( but the struggle was a hard one, and at times the
strong man shook like a reed.

 
     

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JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 59

Hancock soon after his arrival had sought another
apartinent, but in the course of half an hour he en-
tered the room where most of the inmates were as-
sembled, accompanied by two other young men, Pear-
son, and one named Bailey, all armed and equipped
as for a journe,.

“ You will save them—you will restore them to us !”
exclaimed Mrs. Holden, springing to his side, and
clinging conyulsively to his arm.

“If God spares my life I will do it. He, only,
knows the issue. We have resolved, Mrs. Holden, to
do all that mortals can do, even to the sacrifice of life,
if it be necessary.”

“Bless you, bless you, young man! A mother’s
prayers will follow you.”

“Deacon Holden,” said Hancock, after a moment-
ary hesitation, “the fate of your daughter is at this
moment uncertain, and I am about to peril my life in
her behalf:. The chances are against me. This, then,
is no time for concealments. { love your daughter,
sir. The life of Hilen is more dear to me, if possible,
than to yourself. My object in making this explana-
tion is not to obtain your sanction, but solely to assure
you of my zeal, and that nothing will be left untried
to insure her safety.”

“ Restore her to us, Frederic, and Ellen is yours,”
said the deacon, pressing him cordially by the hand.

“ Father, your blessing.”

With a kindling eye Hancock had turned and bent
before an aged man on the opposite of the room.

The old man placed his trembling hands on the
youth’s head, and, in tones of deep solemnity said:

“May God Almighty bless you, my son, and pros
per you in your perilous undertaking.”

As Frederic arose from his knee, a bustle was
heard in the adjoining room, words of welcome were
uttered, and presently the door opened, and the Scout
stood in the entrance. He was received with joyful
¢42iamations.

 

  
  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

“Wal,” he said, in his own rough way, after he

had shaken hands with the principal ‘settlers, Seth rere’s
been purty doings here, I larn, ar ter all my cautions!
Didnt I warn you agin the treacherous varmiats.
But let us hear all about the matter.”

He was soon put in possession of the facts, and

then Hancock informed him of their intended expe-

dition.

“Good spunk, youngster; I like that! But let us
consider—let us consider,” added the Scout, rather se-
dately. “I tell yer now, this won’t be child’s play!
The woods are swarming with the outlying reptyles,
and we must proceed c.utiously.”

“Then you will assist in rescuing my children?”
said Mrs. Holden, hurriedly.

“Sartin, ma’am, that willI! DTve a grudge agin
the varmints, and mean to pay them. Give yourself
no consarn about the boy and gal, well bring them
safe back to you, I reckon. Come, youngsters, let us
see about your preparations,” and, taking leave of those
in the room, the party lett.

On talking the matter over, the Scout was opposed
to have any accompany him but Hancock, but chang-
ing his mind, he said:

“Tf the party belongs to the Ossipee tribe, as I con-
sate, and we can tell by the dead Injun, I know
where their camping ground is. Let us go down to
the grove and look at the critter, arter that we'll de-
cide what course to follow.”

Leaving the block-house, the company proceeded
to the grove. The Scout immediately sought the
corpse of the savage. Turning the body over, and
opening a portion of the dress, so as to expose the
breast, the old man said:

“ Here 1s his folem—'tis an Ossipee, as I consated,”
and he pointed to the figure of a tortoise imprinted on
the breast of the corpse.

It was the custom among the various tr ibes, for the
members of each tribe to wear of their persons a

 

      

 
   
JOR WIE ON TI FTA R-PATHL 61

 

} “totem,” or a bade, which denoted the tribe to which
they belonged. Fish, birds and reptiles were the
} Sicns usually employed.
“Now, youngsters, this is my idea. You two,”
pointing to the companions of Hancock, “ will take
to the river as soon as the sun is gone down, and keep
along as faras the Upper Falls. When you get there,
traw your canoe close to the bank, under the bushes.
Now, mind what I say, keep a still tongue in your
heads. ‘You've hearn tell of a whisper among the
mountains bringing down an ayalanche—I tell yer, a
whisper on the river, in such a still night as this, may
bring down upon you something worse than an ava-
lanche of wild cats! So be wary; move your pad-
dles lightly; keep in the shadows as much as pos-
sible, and keep your eyes and ears open. I will join
you at the Falls. Can you remember this?” and the
Svout gave a cry so resembling that of the night-owl,
that it would have deceived the most practiced ear.
“That will be a signal that _I am in your neighbor-
hood. Can ary one of you answer it?”
Pearson made the attempt, and succeeded so well
as to win the commendation of the Scout.
i “Very well done, very well, ‘indeed! You must
| answer my call—not right away, but in few minutes
arter. - You and I, youngster, will take to the woods
and the sooner the better.”
Cautioning the two young men anew not to start
- until the shadows fell on the river, and whistling his
| dog to his side, the old man and Hancock entered the
woods. After pr oceeding some distance in silence,
the Scout said, in a low voice:
omwas a good shot the youngster made—clean
through the critter’s skull; and yet it may prove 4
pad one for him. We must get him out of their
| hands to- night at all events.”
' “Shall we not rescue both?” asked Hancock, with
much interest.

 

 

   
 

  

     
 

F2 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

i “That we'll detarmine on as the case may be; but —
the boy must be looked to first.”

“But why George, and not Ellen?” 1

. ‘Don’t you see there’s blood been spilt, youngster, |
and life for life is the yarmint’s creed, as though one
of them haythens was worth as much as a Uhristian.” | 7 |

“J had no fears for his life,” said Hancock.

“Why, you told me the youngster was wounded;
did you not? Wal, now, does it stand to reason’.to
think that the varmints would trouble themselves to
carry him off, unless it was to wreak their vengeance
on him.”

“But why did they not kill him on the spot?” in-
quired Frederic.

“That wouldn’t satisfy them bloody sarpents.
You've hearn tell of the stake, I s’pose, and splinters
of pitchwood, and sich divilish tortures? DPve seen | |
them. That’s why they did not kill him on the spot, |
boy.” |

And will they not subject Ellen to the same fate?” |
said Hancock, shuddering as the fearful thought shot
across his mind.

“'There’s no danger of that. The infarnal scamps,
though they delight in blood, love money better.
No, youngster, they’ll carry her to Canada, and sell
her to the cursed I’rench, who put them up to these
things. They never kill women so long as they can
find such a good market for them.”

“Cheer up, lad,’ added the old hunter, after a
pause, noticing the dejection of Hancock, “ there’s no
telling but we'll get them both out of their clutches.
My idee is, to make sure of the boy first—get him
into the canoe, and start him down the river; and if |
we do this without disturbing thy venemous snakes,

- we will attend to the gal’s case. Hist! Brave smells
raischief. What is it, pup?” |

The dog, which was a little in advance, had sud- ]
denly stopped, pricked up his ears, and gave a low

growl.

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 

   

 

 
   
     
   
    

WAR-PATH.

      

JOY WIER ON THE

  

_ “What is it, pup?’ again said the Scout, approath-
Ing him.

The animal tossed his nose in the air, snufling ea-
gerly fora moment. Then, as if satisfied, wagged his
tail, and kept on his way.

“There, now, that dog,” said the Scout,following
him unhesitatingly, “knows more than ary human
being! He's been my companion for many a. year, j
and I have larnt his ways, and he mine, so that we
understand each other perfectly. I will tell you some
day, how he led the redskins off the track, when they
‘thought they’d trapped me at one time. But it is
getting dusky, and I must not forget the caution I
gave the youngsters about keeping a still tongue.”

After this the Scout proceeded in silence, throwing
quick and searching glances in-every direction. For
miles he traveled in this’ manner, until darkness had
completely fallen on the forest, through which he
walked as if all its paths were familiar to him. By
this time they had struck the banks of the river, and
leaving the woods, they crept cautiously along the
Margin of the stream.

’ They were evidently approaching the neighborhood
of the Indian camping-ground, for every movement of
the Scout betrayed the utmost watchfulness. ‘Time
and again he turned and whispered to his compan-
ptOn :

“Tread softly, youngster! Don’t speak for your
life! A word might bring the whole pack on us!”
and similar cautions. Occasionally he would stop

short, and bending his ear to the ground, would listen
eagerly for a few moments. After proceeding some x
distance, he halted beside a clump of tall bushes.. Softly
displacing their branches, so as to afford an entrance,
he bade Frederic take his station in the thicket.
| “Some of the outlying varmints\may be skulking

in the neighborhood, but you will be sate here,” . said
the hunter, in a low voice. “Iam going into therep-
tyle’s nest to see iow things are there. If I had that

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

ete

   

 

        
       
   
   
   
THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

dog’s nose now it would be worth a dozen eyes! Be

on your guard—do not move if you can avoid it.

Come, Brave, lead the way!” and following the dog, 7
the Scout disappeared in the gloom. Hancock heard —

not so much as the cracking of a twig to denote the
presencelof a living thing near, so cautious were the
movements of the old hunter.

CHAPTER: VAT.
THE CANINE SCOUT.

The Indins had selected for their camping-ground
a spot in the bend of the river, where the forest, re-
ceding a short distance from the banks, formed a cres-
cent-shaped. clearing, which sloped gradually to the
water's edge. On this spot some dozen or more
lodges were scattered in the usually disorderly man-
ner of an Indian encampment. The wigwams of the

wandering tribes that yearly visit the writer’s neigh-—

borhood, at the present day, are made of light canvas,

or stout cotton cloth, and have a very neat, comfort {

able appearance, but those of which we are writing
were rudely constructed of such matevial as the forest

afforded. Some of them consisted of rough poles, or”

saplings, over which pine boughs were laid, bat the
covering of the most of them was of birch-bark, the
same article that is used in the constraction of theif
sanoes, broad strips of which may be obtained from
the birch tree.

In one of these wigwams, on the night in question,
sat, or rather half-reclined, Ellen, on the skin of some
wild animal, which, with some regard for her sex, het
captors had furnished her. Wer arms were confined
behind her with twisted thongs, and her ankles
bound by the same. Pinioned as she was, she could

not long retain a recumbent posture with any sort of 7

  

     

   
  

—

 

 
    
  

 

 
 
  

+ ness, but still she could not repress the hal!

 

JOE WIER ON THH WAR-PATH. 65

 

comfort. A little hillock which arose in one corner of
the lodge fortunately afforded her a comparatively
easy leaning place.

Situated thus, the reader can better imagine than I
can portray her feelings. She was a brave-hearted
girl, and did not give way to any unnecessa wry weak-
“sigh, half
moan that from time to time arose to her lips. What
added to her distress was the knowledge she enter-
tained of the terrible fate that awaited her brother.
Of her own life she had not the least fear, for she
knew that the greatest evil in store for her Was ¢ long
journey through the wilderness, and perhaps years of
servitude among the French Canadians ; an escape
from which, however, was frequently obtained by
ransom or artifice. Her life, therefore, she felt was
safe, unless her strength gave out on the journey, for
it was not an uncommon occurrence, if a captive, by
reason of sickness or any other inability, put the say-
ages to much trouble or detained them for the inhuman |
wretches to despatch them at’ once, and take their
scalps. In these days the French paid the savages a
bounty for English scalps, as some States pay a bounty
for the ears of a wolf or the head of a wild cat. This
horrible traffic was not confined wholly to the French.
Massachusetts, at that time, paid a similar bounty for
Indian scalps, and it is well attested that many of the
aborigines ‘belonging to friendly tribes, even while
doing good service for the whites, were shot down by
lawless rangers of the woods, merely for the premium
p aid for sealps. Who could tell by the scalp whether
it was taken ae the head of a friend or a foe.

Ellen’s greatest distress, we said, was on her
brother’s account. She knew that he had killed one
of the tribe, and she had witnessed the ominous man-
ner with which he was received at the encampment.
Sit} had seen the savages dancing around him with
howls of vengeance, brandishing their tomahawks in
fearful proximity to his head, while their eyes glared

 

  

|

    
   
  

   
 
 
     
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
 

 
  
 
  

 

66 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

with demoniacal fury.’ More dreadful than all, she
had seen, in the early evening, from the door of her
lodge, the fatal stake planted in the centre of the
encampment, and heaps of dry brash brought from
the adjoining woods and placed near it. This was
hardly needed to confirm her fears, still a sight of the
terrible preparations struck a sickening chill to her
heart. How could his fate be averted? She revolv- °
ed in her mind all possible contingencies, but not a
gleam of hope could she find. The very blackness of
darkness encompassed her. A cold despair settled on
her heart. All her sympathies enlist@d in behalf of
her brother, she forgot her own sufferings. How
would her heart have leaped for joy had she but known
that even then friends were near at hand, ready to
risk life in her and her brother's behalf! | Her
thoughts, it is true, often reverted to Hancock, and
to his promise to rescue her, and she did not doubt
but that he would make the attempt. But would he
appear in time to save George from his impending
fate? Ske strove to elicit aray of hope from that
thought ; but when she reconsidered the matter—the
improbability, nay, what she deemed the impossibility
of tracing them in season, and bring a force sufficient
to over-match the savages, convinced her at once that
it would be sheer madness to build a hope on so frail
a foundation.

“No, no,” she murmured to herself, “he will come
too late! George must die, and oh, God, such a
death!” and a groan of anguish burst from her Tips.

In another lodge, nearer to the river, bound hand
and foot, so as to be almost incapable of motion,
stretched on the cold sward, was George Holden. In
his encounter with the savages, he had received a
bad wound, which would have been exceedingly pain-
ful, had not his mental agony rendered him insen-
sible to physical suffering. He saw that he had bata
few hours to live—that the coming day would wit-
ness his death. Young, buoyant with life and hope,

 

 

  
 
   
 

 

 
 

 
  

es

 

 

 

 
  
 
 
  

 

  

JOR WITR ON THE WAR-PATH.

death would, in any shape, have been terrible; buat
from that which av aited him he shrunk app: ailed.
With a refinement of cruelty, his captors had pointed
out to him with menacing gestures, the stake, which
was to be the mode of his death, and hs ad exhibited to
him the sharp splinters with which they intended to
pierce his body and add to his torture. He knew
that there was not the slightest chance of escape from
the fearful doom, and for ‘hours, he remained in a sort
of stupor of agony, with the fatal stake, the flaming
splinters, and the burning pile continually before him.

At times, prayers burst from his lips—wild and in-
coherent, the ravings of despair—that death would
come and save him from the fiery trial. And then
would come thoughts of his home, and Ne would im-
agine himself with his parents, or sitting by the side
of Annie, in the tower, relating to her a 1 horrid dream
—his present sufferings. Oh, it was terrible, terrible
beyond description, when the delightful vision passed
away, and his mind recurred to his real situation!
Great drops of agony would force themsely:s from
bis brow, and bound as he was, he would writhe as
one in a mortal struggle. After these momentary
paroxysms would come “caliner feelings, and he would
sttive to nerve himself to endure whatever might
await hia, with unshrinking courage.

We have exhibited the captive in some of his dark-
est moments, when his spir it was bowed in the depths
of despair. Tt must not be inferred from this that he
was a craven—that he lacked manliness. His situa-

’ tion was one calculated to test the fortitude of the

stoutest heart. Bound, wounded, exhausted, in dark-
ness and solitude, with the certainty of an excru-
ciating death, within a few hours, pressing upon his
mind—no wonder that he quailed—under like cix-
cumstances, whose heart would not have quailed ?
And yet, when the hour of trial arrived, George
would probably have faced his foes without shrinking,
and laughed at their cruelties. The anticipation of

  
       
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
   

62 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

suffering is often worse than the reality. The man
who turns pale at the thought of submitting to o
painful operation, frequently meets the surgeon’
knife with a smile.

It was when he was in one of those calmer moods
somewhere near midnight, his ear detected a slight
movement at the entrance of his lodge. He listened
eagerly, but for awhile all was silent, and Gcorge con-
eluded that his ear must have deceived him. No—
there is another movement. This time it is no de-
ception. What could it be? An enemy coming to
,deal the secret death-blow. Ee remembered the fe-
rocity of the brother of the man whom he had shot,
when he w: Sprouse to the camp, and the difficulty
with which the resi of the tribe prevented the savage
from executing on him immediate vengeance. Could
this be he, coming to glut his appetite for blood?
George had besought death, but the idea of its near
approach startled him, and he felt the cold sweat on
his person. Whoever it was, he was in their power,
incapable of resistance.

With all his senses on the alert, he again listened.
The same movement continued, as if some one was
foreing a secret entrance into the lodge. He heard
the bushes rustle on the outside—the pine boughs
cautiously put aside, and then a sound, as of some one
making a passage through them. He remained per-
fectly still, expecting every moment the crushing
blow of the tomahawk, or the suarp thrust of the
scalping-knife. The intruder was approaching him
—he heard him creeping slowly along—another mo-
ment, and he would be in reach of his body. A
prayer arose to the young man’s lips—a silent resig-
nation of his soul to his Maker. Ob, what a sudden
change of emotions—how did his heart throb, and
what a thriil shot through his frame as his ear just
caught an audible whisper:
“Boy! boy! where are you?”

 

  

did se es

ee aie

a

a ee I a ee
JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH.

~ “Here—God be praised! God be praised!” exclaim-
ed George, every nerve quivering with joy.
_- On your Jife be silent! Would you brine the
_ whole pack on us?” was whispered, in the same cau.
tious tones. _ Even as the words reached his ears, he
_ felt the fastenings that bound him give way.
__ “Your arms, now,” continued the unseen speaker,
_ and immediately the thongs that had cut deeply intc
the flesh, were seyered, and his limbs were free.
_ God bless you for this, Scout !”, said George, imi-
tating the cautious tone of his deliverer,
_., “No time for thanks, now, youngster! Follow me,
and move warily, the reptyles are easily aroused,” and
} lying flat‘on the ground, the old man tivisted himself
With a snake-like motion, out of the lodge, and to-
| Ward the woods.
__ With stiffened limbs, every movement of. which
} caused intense pain, George followed his leader, until
_ they arrived at a small clump of bushes on the edge of
the forest, in frout.of which, as if standing sentinel,
Was the old man’s hound.
‘I must leave you here,” said the Scout.“ Brave
Will conduct you to the river, where [ will meet you,”
_ thus saying, he glided silently into the forest.
__As the hunter disappeared, the noble dog commenc-
ed moving slowly along, turning his head from: time
to time, as if, to ascertain if he was duly followed.
‘Finding that his wound would not permit of his walk-
Ing, George crept along as he best could, dragging his
Maimed limb painfully after him. His progress was
Necessarily slow, and the admiration of George was
*xcited at the sagacity displayed by his canine leader, ~
Who, as if aware of the difficulty under which his
charge labored, timed his pace to George’s slow move-
Ments.. Leaving them on their way to the stream, let
$return to thé thicket, where we left Frederic.
The stars were shining bright overhead, but not a
ay of light found its way into the thicket where Han-
k was waiting, with no small degree of anxiety for

 
  

 

20 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

the Scout’s return. He felt no fear, but there was 4
wild beating of his heart, which he could not control.
He thought of Ellen in her ‘oneliness and gloom. He
pictured her sitting, bowed with grief, in her rude |
wigwam, and he yearned to make his presence kr.own
to her. He thought what a solace it would be did she
but know that she had friends so near her. Buried in
these reveries, an hour or two passed imperceptibly | _
away.

The distant ery of an nigit-owl broke his train of
thoughts. The ill-omened sound, so consonant with
the surrounding gloom, did not tend to dissipate
the depression which weighed upon his spirits. It
was not until he heard the ery repeated in another
direction, that he remembered that it was the signal
agreed upon between the Scout and those in the
canoe. - When this flashed upon his mind, the secon
struck him as anything but ill-omened. He now im- \
patiently awaited the issue of events. Intently he
listened to catch the returning footsteps. of the Scout.
Minute after minute passed away, but still no sound
met his ear. Halfan, hour, perhaps, went by, when 4
movement among the bushes in which he was hidden
sent a thrill to his heart.

“Wal, younster,’ said the hunter, ina subdued
voice, thrusting his head into the opening he had
made, “a’most tired of waiting, Is’pose. Howsum-
ever I’ve seen the gal’s brother. He was cruelly
bound, and has got an ugly wound in his thigh. But
I cut his thongs, and directed him how to proceed.
The sly dog made the varmints think his wound was

 giveee> ght 4)

Oe crow ~~

 

 

Eng

  
 
  
 
 

worse than it is, and so, fastening him with thei? | y
cursed wooden twists, they thought they had him safe | gp
enough, and did not guard him so strictly as they |
otherwise would.” | be
“ And you will get him clear, Scout, to-night ?” 8ty
“Speak softly, boy, you've no idea how sound | ge,

  

travels in the night. If nothing happens we shall get |
him out. of their clutches, and the gal, too, I consste

    
——_

Ota: >. cet —aenrnr

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 11

“But come with me, and don’t forget you are’ walking

among sleeping adders, which the least misstep may

“arouse.”

Stepping out from his hiding-place, Frederic fol-

- lowed in the footsteps of the Scout. Occasionally the

old fellow would give utterance to a low chuckle, as if
indulging in some secret merriment. At last, half

| turning his head toward his companion, he said :

“TJ declare that pup of mine knows as much as any
human being !”
“Where is he, Scout ?” asked Hancock, in the same

‘cautious tone, “Ido not see him.”

“Guiding the boy down to the canoe, and as good
& guide as I should be.”

“How did you find where George was?” asked
Hancock, with some interest.

“Wal, ’twas all of that pup’s doings. ‘ Brave,’ said
T, ‘lead me to the white boy!’ With that he went

 Snufiing along, until the knowing critter stopped, wag.

ing his tail, before one of the lodges. You needn't
tell me such dogs have no souls !”
- Ina few minutes they reached the stream. They
had not been long there when Brave made his ap-
Pearance, followed by George. Most thankful was he
on arriving at the end of his journey, and hearty were
the congratulations that passed between the young
Men. Lively, too, was the gratitude expressed to the
Scout for his services.
“Resarve your thanks,” said the old man, “until
a get fairly out of the varmints’ clutches. Remain
ere awhile, and do not speak above your breath,
while I go and find the canoe,” and the Scout went a

Short distance up the stream.

Just below one of the falls on the river, hidden
beneath the overhanging bushes on the banks of the
Stream, swung a canoe, in which two young men were
Seated.

“ They’re a long time coming,” said one of them,

 
 

  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

“it is an, hour since we answered the oid, man’s
signal.”

“ We must not speak too loud, Baily, although the
roar of, the falls drowns our voices. . Hark! what is
that?”

There was a disturbance among the limbs overhead,
followed by the well-known voice of the Scout :

“ Drop your, canoe down. to,.the. sloping bank,
youngsters. . Move warily.”

Those in the canoe obeyed the directions, and butja
few. minutes. elapsed sere George, with the assistance
of Frederic and the Scout, was deposited in one end
of the. canoe.

“Now, boys,” said the hunter, “all depends on you.
You cannot be too-eautious. - I-see the mist is rising
on the river—keep in that as much as possible, and
hug the banks whem there is no vapor. ,. The moon
will be up soon, and: some of the varmints ‘may be
up abroad. . Keep your eyes and ears open, and your
mouth shuty and beiore, daybreak I trust you will be
safe in the block-lousy.” ;

“And tell, your father, George,” said. Hancock, as
the canoe floated into the. stream, “that Ellen will
follow you.soon,” and bidding good might to. the

voyagers, he aud the Scout left the spot,.followed by ,

Brave. A

CHAPTER, VUI.
THE CANOE CUASE.

The light bark shot rapidly and noiselessly dows

the ‘stream,, The mist was, making fast, into the |

thickest of which the canoe was.guided. . For an hout
or more they continued on their way, without meet:
ing with anything to excite their alarm, and. theif
hearts beat high in anticipation of the successful issue
of the expedition. By this time the moon had arised,

 

 

An
Loy
ag ;
to

to
No

 

 
JOH WIEK ON THE WAR-PATH. 2

but although its light served to guide them on ‘their
| Voyage, they would gladly have dispensed with it, for
they felt that the darkness was their best security. It
the inist had continued unbroken the entire leneth of
the river, they would not have heeded the moon's
light, for the vapor hung like a veil around them, con-

‘Pcealing them from view.. But there were certain por

| tions of the river—-patches here and there—on which
the moonbeams fell unobstructed. In crossing these

} re young mén would be completely exposed. ‘Still,

by hugging'the eastern bank, they could sometimes
| take advantage of the deep shadows of the overhang-
| Ne trées and’ shrubbery, and so escape from: ob-
Servation, should prying eyes be in their neighbor-
ood.
| They were crossing one of these openings which
Occurred ‘at a bend in the river where the point of land
‘Tan out so shallow that they were forced far into the
‘Stream, when the dip of paddles was heard, and almost
in the same moment a canoe containing three savages
shot out of the mist on 'the opposite side of the river,
bound ‘up the stream.
“Down, both of you!” whispered’ George—“ they
‘May pass without discovering us.” brid
| The young’men dropped: silently into the bottom
of the canoe, which floated slowly down with the
Current.

For two or three minutes those in the strange
Canoe took no notice of the apparently deserted bark,
‘nd the young men indulged the hope of escaping
Without discovery. It was soon put to flight, for ere
| ong, a low, guttural “Ugh!” came across the stream,
‘nd in a moment the canoe of the savages was headed
lowards them. It did not approach them, however,
| 88 the Indians rested on their paddles, and appeared
‘o be serutinizing the little lone craft. With the ut-
Nost anxiety the young men watched their farther
Novements. At last, one of the savages was seen to

 

 
 

 

14 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

dip his: paddle 'in the ‘water and’ gently propel tht
canoe. ‘

“By heavens! they are slowly approaching. us,”
said Gedrge: “Up, boys, and strike out for yout
lives!”

The young men sprang up, and-plied their paddles |
with desperate energy. A loud whoop and yell from)

the savages rang over the water, and told that thé
chase had commenced.

“Plunge into the mist as! soon as possible,” said
George, in an excited:tone. ‘ We have nearly a qual
ter of a mile start of them. This unfortunate wouné
of mine gives them the advantage, but. we. may suc
ceed in eluding them.”

In a few minutes the canoe containing the young
men shot into the mist, and was lost to sight... With
the rapidity of the swallow, skimming the surface 0
the stream, the pursuing bark dashed after it, the wily
savages steering in a diagonal direction, so as to cul
off the fugitives. i

The young men’ were, however, as crafty as, thell
pursuers, for as soon as they had got well into, thé
mist, they, too, changed ‘the direction of their prow
and made a straight wake for the oppositeshore. Fors

tunately for the success of their manauvre, a cloud a! ;

this moment passed before the moon, and the vapo!
being more tian usually dense, served to sheld thel!
movements from observation.

“ There they go,” said George, in a whisper, as th?

quick strokes of paddles were heard crossing the! |

track astern; “dip softly, but strongly; we may
give them the slip... Would \that I could. aid. you:
I can pulha trigger, though, if I cannot handle a pad

dle,” and he raised his rifle to a position for imme

diate use.
About a mile below this bend. theie was a fall or 4

series of’ falls. Perhaps the term “ rapids’ would b® | ,

the most appropriate, as the descent-of the curren!
was gradual, the angle of descent being about twenty

  

 

  
JOE WIER ON THE WAR-EATH. 15

degrees. The usual passage of those rapids was on
the eastern banks of the river, where there was a
Comparatively smooth and easy canal, up which the

| Smoes were usually dragged by those making the

ascent of the river. There was still another passage
about: mid-channel, a difficult and somewhat daugerous
‘Sne to those who were not intimately acquainted with
its navigation. Only a descent could be made by this
Passage—an ascent would be impossible. For an
fghth of a mile or more, the stream rushed in boiling
ae pools seething and foaming over rocks—dart-

le rapidly through narrow channels, and tossed
about: in the wildest tumult, threatening instant
destruction to whatever should be drawn into the
Vortex, especially so frail a thing as a birchen
fanoe. Still, a dexterous hand could carry’ one
Safely through, and, fortunately for our party, George

+ Was well acquainted with all the intricacies of the

Tapids.

With this brief description, the reader will perceive
the position in which the young men were placed.
they were on the western side of the stream, where
No channel existed, and, from the nature of the ground,

sre no transit below the rapids could be made by
and. :

For some time the young men remained stationary,
tening eagerly to catch any signs indicating the
Presence of the foe, but all remained quiet.
“We had better have kept on,” said Baily, in a
Nushed voice, “and have ran down the western pas-
e.??

“No,” replied Pearson, “we should have been
°vertaken long before we reached it ; or if we had
Steceeded, they would have followed us through,”

“Well, Ido not see as we are any better off cooped

‘Dp in this way.

_ “There is the central passage,” rejoined Pearson.

‘George can take us through it, if worst comes to the
Worst. The black imps will probably hover around

 

 
    

76 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

the other channel, hoping to nab us—if we could cot |

trive to slip through the central. passage we might
steal a march on them. . What say you, George ?”

“Tt will bea difficult thing,” replied George, “ an
being night, the risk will be greatly increased. Bub
we may be forced to it, and in anticipation of such al
event, you had better prop me up so that I can guidé
the canoe.”

This was done, and after waiting some time longet
without hearing anything of their pursuers, they con
menced slowly crossing the river, throwing anxiows

 
  

{in

aro
Wh
| Svs
Wit
108:
So:
‘Res
Tey

glances about them in all directions... They had gob],

about half way over when a slight hreeze—what, the }j

sailors style a cat’s-paw—suddenly dispersed the mish
leaving them fully. exposed to. view in a bright, broad
patch of moonlight. ; To their consternation, there ap-
peared, some dozen rods or so up the river, the othet
canoe, evidently onthe lookout for, them. , Again thé
defiant war-whoop broke down the stillness of night,
followed by.a shout of triumph as the savages dashe
in hot pursuit. ij

“ There’s nv hope for us now, Pearson ; push for the
rapids!” shouted George, seizing a paddle to. guide
the frail craft. ;

It was but a minute ere they were in the swift cul’
rent, where only the guiding paddle was needed. Th?

savages were evidently familiar’ with the passage, fot |,

they did not hesitate to follow in the same course.
“Are they following us?’ asked George, whos?
whole,attention was absorbed in the management 2

Vig
lisi

4

; of

the boat, which began to be tossed upon the trouble@ |);

waters.

“ By all that’s good, they are! Close in our path,”
was the excited reply of Pearson.

“This will never do!” exclaimed George. “Take
your rifles, boys, and give the helmsman. his quietu%
Steady, or you will capsize us! Hold one. momen
however, until they get into the most dangerous nay
gation.” . t i

   

 
fe | JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. a)

t ti ‘ . r
‘|, The young men had erasped their pieces, ready for

a Nitant action. The ‘surges were breaking furiously
» |ound and under the frail vessel; while the thick
“| White foam creamed over her sides, threatening to
| jst her. At one moment she was borne forward

eS

With the speed of a race-horse—in'the next she was
.{ossed amid the raging billows like ‘an egg-shell.
_)ometimes she was caught in an eddy and whirled
f Nearly around, and then she would start forward with
‘ "hie velocity, running her sharp bows close upon
i t @ jagged rocks, which seemed to threaten her with
1 stant destruction. It required ‘the most watchful
Vigilance and dextrous management to avoid a col+
Sion. But young Holden was equal to the task.
Cool, sclf-possessed, quick to perceive, and ready to
Ward off danger, he piloted his way in safcty.

“Now, Pierson, now, Bailey,” said he, “in a few
Moments we shall be where it is more quiet, while
|they will be in the most dangerous passages. Don't
,|Mind the others, but make sure of the one who steers.
the canoe is left for a moment without guidance it
Will prove fatal to them. Now, fellows, is your chance
take a good sight.”

Each of the young men took deliberate aim. Al-
Nost a simultaneous discharge took place; there was
|*flash and a report, followed by an unearthly death-
shriek, which rose upon the air high above the roar
¢ | the rapids. The shot of one of the young men took —
| fect in the breast of the heimsman, who sprang
Wildly to his feet, staggered like a drunken man, and
: {Slving a fearfully agonizing ery, toppled over into the
Oiling water.

, |, Left without any controlling powes, the canoe was
Orne swiftly through a narrow channel, and dashed
bon a point of sharp rocks, against and over which
the mad waters beat in‘clouds of foam. In an instant
the frail birchen vessel was shattered as if it had been
Ttade of paper, and the two savages were left strug-
|Sling in the full strength of therapids. At one mo-

=

ope Se ape

——_

 

 

   

  
   

 

%8 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

ment they were hurled. by the. force.of the curret!

against the ragged ledges—the next whirled like drift
wood in the turbulent eddies; until, at last, thelf
mangled bodies could be seen, now catching on som?|
projecting rock, and now tightly jammed in somé
crevice, the angry waters roaring around and dashing
over them, as if triunphing over their prey.

With an exulting shout, our adventurers kept 02
their way, and were soon gliding on the smooth sar|™
face of the stream once more. Nothing farthet\®
occurred to interrupt their passage, and just as day ig
broke the canoe touched the bank of the river in froa!)
of the block-house. Wi.

Bailey started forward to notify the inmates of theif
arrival, while Pearson assisted George up the slope h
Nearly every inmate of the fort had assembled at the | ©
gate, and warm and cordial was the welcome Georg?
received, and eager were the inquiries as to the pal 4
ticulars of his seizure and escape, and respecting thé
fate of Ellen. There was one form, George did nob}.
see among the excited throng, and one voice which !
he missed in the chorus of welcomes that greete
him. Annie was absent. Did George feel hurt ab]
this seeming indifference? On, no! He readily dr}
vined. the cause. It wag not until he was alone in his 4
mother’s room that he saw her. She then hastily en- |
tered the room, and rushing toward him, flung herse
on his bosom, weeping convulsively.

“Dear George !”

“Dear Annie!”

There was a world of meaning in the tone and | f
manner of utterance of those simple words, which e% | t
pressed more than we could crowd into a volume.

 

 

  

 
=

ay

=
=

pb}

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 7

CHAPTER IX.
BACKWOODS STRATEGY.

Leaving George in the care of Annie, who, the
| Teader will not doubt, proved a tender and devoted

\Qurse, let us look after Ellen, and those who were

Seekiny her rescue. _

“T never knew the varmints so unguarded before,”
/Said the Scout, as he left the banks of the river.
“They thought the youngster was hurt worse than

e, | Xe proves to be, and they thought they had him sure
@| CRouzh. How it will ruck them when they find that
yo , their victim has escaped their infernal tortures!” and
r¢ the old fellow chuckled over the disappointment that
| Awaited them.
| “But what do you propose to do for Ellen?” asked
b | Tancock.
id “Wal, I've been turning the matter over in my
|) Mind. I see the moon is about rising, and it will be
i) tisky business. I’m not sure but that it will be best
is) to postpone the attempt to some other night.”
‘| ‘For heayen’s sake do not think of it!” exclaimed
{| Hancock, who shuddered at the idea that, on ascer-
taining the flight of George, they might wreak their
Vengeance on her.
“Softly, softly, youngster!” said the Scout—‘ your
feelings are nat’ral,” he continued, conjecturing the

tears of his companion, “but I know the natur’ of the
tedskins better than you. They will not touch a hair
of her head. WHowsomever, I will see what I can do.
ou wait here, and I will go and look around a little.
Come, Brave, find me the white gal!” and giving a
few directions to Frederic, he crept off in the direc-
tion of the encampment.
He had been absent bu‘ a few minutes when he

 

 
   

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

again made his appearance, and, in hurried tones,
said :

“The imps are astir! The pack will open on us
presently! Come this way, and let us watch the var-
mints.” So saying, he led off into the forest.

They had not proceeded far, when.an infuriated yell
burst upon the night air, as if a herd of demons had
suddenly broke loose, and were venting theirrage. A
low laugh burst from the oldman, as yell. after. yell
rang through the forest.

“That's just like them critters,” said he; “ when
they’re riled, the only way they can. spit out. their
spite is to set up an infernal howling, like a pack of
wolves or wild cats.” a

Just then, momentary gleams of light. flashed on
their sight, as of torches borne hastily to and fro.

“Ia! ha! they’il find him; I congate...’*Twas a
lucky sarcumstance that we got him off as we did. If
the boys havent been waylaid, he’s safe out of thei
reach by this time.”

* But will not this discovery operate against. us?”
asked Frederic, who. saw in it a destruction of all
hope of rescuing Ellen that night, at least.

“Tm not sartain about that,” replied the Scout,
“by what Pye obsarved, all the. party were. not in
camp—but working mischief somewhere, L. s’pose.
You will notice by the clustering of the lights they
have diskivered something, probably the trail to. the
Kee

“ Well,” said Ilancock.

“Wal, it is reasonable to suppose, don’t you see,
that some.on ’em will, start in pursuit. That, in
course, will leaye so many-the less to contend with.”

“But will not those who remain keep a stricter
watch,” inquired Hancock.

“Undoubtelly, young man, although I reckon they

do not suspect that any of the party that helped off
George remains behind. At all events, we must hit
upon some plan to draw off their attention from the

  

a.

—

 

 

oe
 

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 81

gal’s lodge, then seize upon the moment to get her
off. Let yne’@onsider 1 moment,” and the old hunter
arpeared deeply buried in thought for awhile.

“Yes, that may do,” he muttered to himself, “ but
Awill be purty risky though.” “Then addressing his
companion, he continued :

“Tye thought it over, and my mind is this. ‘There’s
a'cluster of lodges near the river which are empty,

€xcepting one, which contains their skins and stores.

Now, if we contrive to fire one of these, the’ whole
would soon be in ‘a blaze: Nat*rally the reptyles
would all rush to save their property; then would be
our chanée. But, boy, there’s’a great risk iit, and
if we did not succeed, the gal’s life might—lI ‘say,
might be put in jeopardy. “The malignant’ devils,
while their blood was up, might’ brain her. Date you
attempt it?”

TTancock was siletit for a moment. “The ‘conse-
quencé attending the failure pressed’ heavily upon his
mind, and he knew not what to say.

“Dare you attempt it, youngster?” again asked
the Scout.

Fearful of assuming a responsibility, pregnant as it
was with ‘the fate of one so dear to him, Fredetic re-
plied ;

“TJ cannot decide, Scout. Tleave the whole‘matter
in your hands. ‘You best know the risks we run, anid
the chances of suecess.”

“Wal, then,” replied the Scout, after a brief pause,
gratified, it'may be, with his companion’s tribute to
his superior sagacity, “I decide to follow the ‘plan
suseested. There is danger, I acknowledge, but there
can’t be many of them left, and if we are put to it, we
can fight it out with the varmints. “Should it come to
that, they will not show a fair, stand-up fight, but
skulk.. Then, yer see, I can keep the tarnal imps at
bay while you make off with the gal!” BE

“But there is your own risk, Scout?” said Han-
vock.

 
 

82 THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

“That, young. man, Idon’t, much counton. | Ive
lived through worse scrimmagys than this is likely to
be. I consate the ball that reaches my life is) not yet
moulded: But what. matters, if I do fall. a year or
tyvo off a lonely old man’s life. Ican’t die before my
time comes. There are somany grains of sand put in

- the glass of every man, youngster, and that sand must
o> >

run out initsnat’ral course. You can’t hurry it—you
can't. check it. Man has his allotted time, and all the
bloody redskins in the world can’t cheat him out of a
single second. IfI.am to fall this night, I am to fall.
That’s the doctrine we preach down to our Sabba’-day
Pond meeting. So don't.consarn yourself about me,
my. lad.”

While the old man was: thus unfolding his creed,
they had been making.a.cirewt of the woods, so as to
obtain a position in rear of the encampment.

“Now,” said the Scont, coming to a halt, “keep
your station here, while I goand see if the snakes

ave crept into their holes. It is my idea that the

oung woman’s. lodge is the one nearest the woods.
{f so be it is, twill be all the better. Brave will smell
it out for me. Come, pup!” and the old man and
his, dog moved off in, the direction of the camp.

The young man, left alone in the forest, felt ill at
eas». It was natural, now that the erisis of his adyen-
tnre was.approaching, that he should be somewhat ex-
cited. The emotions that agitated him were of an
opposite character. Hope struggled with fear. he
idea of speedily releasing Ellen from bondage thrilled
him with joy. Then came thoughts of the difficulties
to be. encountered—of the. fatal, consequences should
failure attend their attempt, shadowing his hopes and
chilling his heart with fear. However, it was no time
to falter now, and he nerved himself to the task be-
fore bim.

In the course of half an hour the Scout rejoined
him.

“The reptyles have crept into their dens,” said he,

 

ans

 

 

 
 

 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR PATH. 82

“but *tain’t likely they have gone to sleep. I’ve
ascerteined the lodge where your sweetheart is but 1
could aot get near it for fear of discovery. Come
this way, toward the edge of the forest; tread
lightly, and I will point it out to you. The moon is
getting up, which will be of some sarvice, although
for such a job asthis darkness would be best.”

The moon had not risen, however, above the tree- !
tops, and she afforded just light enough for Frederic
to distinguish the situation of the lodges. The Seout
vointed out the one which Ellen occupied, and the
cluster of wigwams intended to be fired, and then
said:

“Brave will remain with you in case of need—do
rou hear, pup?—while I go and kindle the flames.
When they break out, and the varmints make a rush,
tuen, youngster, cut through the tent, and rescue the
gal. Keep your thoughts about you, boy, don’t be
rash; don’t get excited! One can’t be too cool on
oceasions like this.”

“But where will you join me, Scout?” asked Han-
rock.

“That will depend on sarcumstances. 1 may have
to show myself, so as to draw them off in pursuit.
At any rate, you will plunge into the woods, keeping
the muon over your right shoulder. Bear that in mina,
boy, over your right shoulder. If 1 have to make
a false trail, Brave will bring us together without
doubt. Be wary, and when the flames burst oat, then
is your charce!” With these admonitions, the old
man glided away.

IIancock stood ia the deep gloom of the forest. A
few rodsin advance of him rose the lodge in which
Ellen was confined. We haa left his rifle leaning
against a tree, and held in his hand a large hunting-
knife, ready for instant use. ‘he moment was one of
tlrilling interest, and he stood there, his gaze fixed
upon the cluster of lodges, dimly discerne‘ ir. the dis-
taiice, waiting for the fiery signal, every nerve was

 
 

84 THE BORDER scovT;/0R,
strung to its utmost tension. There was no quivering teri
of the muscles—no trembling of the limbs. He was nots
calm—almost preternaturally: calm. Sy
Beside him stood the faithful'dos. At times the sa- her
gacious animal would \-aze steadily at the lodge, then brie!
turning his: head tomar Hancock; he would: wag his the
tail, as if tocAssure him that he was aware of all that ae
was going on. Atonetimehe gave a just auidlible the:
growl, and with bristling hair’ ctoached to the ground, Biv
as if in the act, of springing. At that moment Fred- a

eric perccived the dusky form of a savage creeping in 4 heh
the neighborhood of Ellen’stent. He saw him but an | tha
instant, when he disappeared into one of the wigwams.

an

The dog crept slowly forward, snufling theair asvhile, Bi
then returned to tiie side.of the young man, as if satis- ut
fied that the:danger had:passed by. | It was very evi- an
dent that: the savage was prying around to see that all tily
was) quiet, and finding nothing to excite suspicion, + { lea
had retired. RR:

Haneock waited, anxious and “impatient. forthe a fi
promised signal. He was beginning to. wonder at to
the delay of the Scout, when a fierce yell arose, in Inc
front of him, accompanied by a rush of feet...In the inc
same moment, from the side of one of the, group of mc
lodges, he saw little tongues of flame leap forth, and .
in the next there was a slight explosion, which barst int
open the lodge, scattering the: fire in all dir-ctions; de
while there arose from the:curling aud crackling bark in:
a vast sea of flame that shot high in the air. | de

With awildiy beating. lieart: Hancock. sprang for- én
ward. It was but the work of a moment to cut..a ab
passage through the frail material of which the lodge ,
was composed. As he: forced his way through the gi
opening he had made, a shriek of) terror burst from us
Kilen’s lips.

“ Wllen, dear Ellen, be not alarmed!) I am_ here A ae
to save you! Quick, follow..me!”. exclaimed tl}
Frederic. tl

“Frederic! O God! can it be you?” said the

 

 
   

 

  

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 85

trembling girl) “Iam bound, dear Frederic, I can-
not move !”

_ Springing to her side, Hancock cut the withes from
her feet and arms, and lifted her to her feet. One
brief embrace followed, and then he bore her through
the entrance he had made. The whole air was now
illuminated with the blazing lodges, and throuchout
the encampment were heard the wild shrieks of the
Savages. As Hancock fled with his companion to-
ward the forest, an athletic young Indian darted from
behind the wigwam, brandishing the fearful tom-
ahawk. Frederic was ignorant of his danger, and in
another moment the fatal weapon would have been
buried in his brain, had not a deliverer been at hand.
The first intimation Hancock had of the presence of
an enemy, was a sharp. growl from Brave, and, has-
tily turning his head, he saw the. powerful animal
eap from the earth, and seize the savage by the throat.
A second glance revealed the dog and the savage in
4 fierce struggle on the ground. He would have gone
to the assistance of his canine friend, but he had a
More momentous interest at stake, and without, check-
the his speed, he pressed forward, and in a few mo-
Ments had entered the woods.

_ Seizing his rifle, Frederic hurried his companion
Into the thickest of the woods, plunging deeper and
| deeper into their mazes, until the light from the burn-
mg camp was lost to sight. Selecting a spot where a
| dense cluster of bushes surrounded a small mound, he
 €ntered into the covert, and made a brief halt, to en-
able his affiighted companion to recover herself.

“Oh, do not wait, Frederic!’ said the panting
ghi. “ZT can keep on still further—they will pursue
Bs’! *? ;

“ We will stop but a moment, Ellen, for you to re-
| Cover breath. Tney will not follow us at present, I
think. Their attention will be wholly taken up with
their burning wigwams. Thank God, we have suc-
Seeded so well as we have.”

   
THE BORDER sCOUT; OR,

“Yes, yes, we do, indeed, owe him our. thanks!
But, oh! Frederic, what will become of poor George
—they will surely murder him!”

“He's safe, dear girl, safe out of their hands!” said
Hancock, and in a hasty manner he informed her of
his rescue, and explained to her the means they had
taken to effect her escape.

“How much do I owe you!” said Ellen, in tones
of gratitude. “How much more than I shall ever be
able to pay you!”

“T think I have something in my possession which
will cancel the debt,” said. Hancock, and he slightly
pressed the hand within his clasp.

At that moment a rustling among the bushes was
heard, as if some one was forcing an entrance. Lev-
eling his rifle, the young man prepared to receive the
intruder. A low, joyful bark cansed him to lower his
weapon.

“Jt is the noble Brave,” said he to Ellen, who sat
shaking with fear; in the next instant the faithful
animal burst into the inclosure, and seckinx the side
of Ellen, placed his head in her lap, and seemed to
testify by mute signs his joy at her escape. Both
Hancock and Ellen caressed the noble animal, to
whose services they probably owed their lives, and re-
joiced heartily at his escape from the savage.

In that struggle, however, Brave ha: not run much
risk. When he sprang upon the sayage, he seized
nim in his huge jaws by the throat, and brought him
at once to the ground. The Indian was entirely
powerless, and in a very short time was completely
throttled. Not until his victim ceased to struggle
did the dog quit his hold, and being satished of his

death, he shook himself, and bounded into the woods,

running to and fro until he caught the sceut of thé
fugitives, after which he darted rapidly on their track

 

    

 
   

we

 

   

.E WIER ON THE WAR-PATH.

CHAPTER X.
WOODCRAFT.

“T feel quite rested now, had we not better go on,
Frederic?” said Ellen, after sitting awhile—‘T fear
every moment that we shall be followed.”

“Yt is a dangerous neighborhood, and the sooner
We leave it the better,” replied Frederic; “and Brave
Seems to be of the same opinion. See, he stands ready
to lead the way.” :

Carefully making their way out of the thicket,
Frederic looked around to ascertain the bearings of
the moon, glimp ‘es of which could be caught through
the trees, and following the directions of the old hun-
ter, the party started on their way. They had rot

' proceeded many rods when they heard the report of a

gun in the direction whence they had come, followed
shortly afierwards by another.
.*The Scout is engaged with the Indians,” said
Frederic. “Pray Heaven that no harm befall him!
Without his aid, I know not how we shall get
alone.”

When the report of the gun was heard, Brave gave

€vident signs of uneasiness, turning his head repeat-

edly, with low whines. :
“He knows that his master is in danger,” said

Ellen, “and evidently wishes to go to him.”

“Yes, and it will, perhaps, be best that he should,”
tejoined Frederic. “Go, Brave, and seek your mas-
to
The dog gave one joyful leap into the air, and then
Started at the top of his speed for the Indian encamp-
Ment.
As the young couple, doubtless, will not object to
eing left alone, we propose to leave them, making

 
   

  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,-

the best of their way, while we go back and glarve at
the proceedings of the Scout.

When he left Frederic, in order to fire the wigwains,
he skirted the forest until-he arrived near the river.
To accomplish the object he had in view required all
his cunning and watchfuluess, for every movement he
made might betray him, and every step was encom-
passed with danger. Well versed in.all the tricks 0
the savages, the old. man proceeded carefully to, ex-
tsute his mission.

Leaying his gun in the edge of the woods, he crept
steal thily, ‘toward the cluster of vacant lodges, which
so closely adjoined each other that in many cases they
came in contact. Selecting the central. one. of the
group, be soon affected an rentrance.. Ife had. taken
with him.a quantity of dry kindling stuff, which he
placed against the side of the tent, and str iking a fire
with a flint and steel, waich he always, bore about him
—locofoco matches were then an unknovwyp. luxury—he
succeded after a while in setting the jsiie in ‘a blaze,
the flames of which soon seized upon «fe inflammable
material of which the tent was comy/ised. Leaving
asmall pile of powder in the centre «1 the lodge, he
took his departure, closing every apa. «we. whence the
Neht from the fire could issue. He then hastily re-

traced his steps; but before he res ,fed the soods,

the yell of the sayages reached his ear, and starting
from. bis. stooping position, he da.ted to the spob
where he had left his gun, and reached his covert
without being discovered,

Hovering inthe neighborhood of the camp, the old

man witnessed, with unalloyed plvasure, the success
of his measures ; and a grim smile tighted wp his face
when he saw the effects of the explosion, scattering
the flaming bark on the other 1odges, and instantly
igniting them. P resently his ear was startled with 4
howl still more unearthly than any that nad precede
it. Immediately there was a clustering of the band it
the vicinity of Kllen’s lodge, and, to the Scout's astov-

 

.
‘

 
 

ie

 

JOE, WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 89

ishment, he saw them raise from the ground and bring
into the light. the» corpse, of an Indian... Could the
young man have struck kim down, was his first query.
But'as.they placed the body on.a mat, by the glaring
light he could see the mangled throat, and he knew in
a moment the author of the deed.

Immediately aftec thus, disposing of the dead, the

   

savages gathered in the, rear of the lodges, seemingly

in consuliation. It was soon apparent t. that they had
discovered the trail uf the fugitives, and four of them
started forward to, follow. it.. The Scout was deter-
mined to prevent this, evenjat the risk of his own life.
Stepping boldly out, into’ the clearing, he leveled his
piece and drew-the trigger. .Was. he ever known to
mixs a shot?. The foremost, savage sprang into the
air and then fell headlong to the earth. During the
confusion. that ensued, the old. man deliberately re-
loaded his rifle, und then started off in a direction con-
trary, to that tuken by Frederic... Witha yell of rage,
the three savages rushed after him, one of whom dis-
charged his gun at him, but without effect, although
the ball split a young tree by his side.

“A good shot,” said. the ‘old man to himself, “a
capital. shot, if aimed at. the sapling! But you can't
expect much from such a breed.”

The Scout led the chase some distance in the woods,
when coming to a large fallen tree, he dropped sud-
denly to the ground and crept under: the tr unk, where
the foliage shielded him from observation. . In a few
minutes. his pursuers came to the spot, and two of
them passed on and were soon lost to sight, but the
third Indian,.sat down on the fallen tree... The Scout
could plainly hear his heavy breathing, as if exhausted
by the pursuit. It. was.a_ critical moment. for him.
The least, moyement on his part, would. betray his
hiding-place; still he cautiously felt for his hunting-
knife, to have it.ready in case of discovery. In draw-
ing it from the sheath he accidentally rustled the
leaves. The noise at once caught. the ear of the

a

  
 

  

THR BORDER SCOUT; OR;

Indian, who sprang to his feet and threw suspieious
glanses toward the fallen trunk. The Scout had no
fears of coping with the Indian single-handed, ‘but he
knew the whoop he would raise on discovering hini
would bring back the party who hal gone on. Te
therefore kept quiet, ‘and fortunately for him, as the
savage made a cautious step toward the tree, a par-
tridge, or some other bird, probably frightened from
its nest, broke ftom among the branches and took
refuge in some underbrush.

The sight of the bird at once allayed the suspicions
of the savage, and after a brief halt he started in the
track of his companions. Waiting until the woods
concealed him from view, the Scout crept ‘softly from
beneath the tree, and with a light step, returned to the
clearing. Just before he reached it, he heard a quick
movement behind him. In an instant he sprang be-
hind a tree, and cocked his rifle. He might conceal
himself from animation, but the noble Brave was ‘not
to be thrown off the track. With the most lively
demonstrations of joy, the faithful animal rushed
toward and leaped upon him.

“Ha, pup! you come in good time,” said the Scout,
patting him heartily. “We've started them on a false
scent, Brave, and you must put me onthe right one!”
and he followed the edge of the forest’ until he arrived
in the rear of the encampment.

The embers of'the burnt lodges still emitted a lurid
light, and a heavy smoke hung around the spot. Ocea-
sionally the cinders would flame up, throwing a mo
mentary gleam on surrounding objects, then die away,
and leave them in tenfold gloom. A smile played
over the face of the Scout.

“The whelps have had their bonfire,” he muttered
to himself, “but ’tain’t such a one as they calkerlated
on Treckon? If ’twan’t for the boy and gal now, Td
wait here jest to enjoy the rage of the sarpynts who
have gone down the river, when'they come back and
find what?s been done.”

 

 

wi

 

 
A

 

 

  

JOE WIPER ON THE WAR-PATH. 9

The old fellow's desire was gratified, for as he
turned to leave, he heard the dash of paddles, and pre-
sently two canoes shot into the cove, from which
some cight or ten savages leaped to the shore. They
were met on lending by two or three squaws, when
there ensued on both sides a noisy jabbering, and vio-
lent gesticulations. When the new comers became
fully aware of what. had transpired, their demonstra-
tions of rage were beyond description. Howl after
howl, yell mingling with yell, a chorus of demoniacal
wrath rang through the forest. In the frenzy of their
rage some of them leaped about like. madmen—twist-
ing theis faces in the most. diabolical contortions—
gnashing their teeth, and swinging their tomahawks
wildly in the air. ’

**Come, pup, let’s be off,’ said the hunter; “that
now is some:hing worth hearing and seeing. To call
them critters hum n beings! Why a pack of cater-
mounts wouldn't cut up such awful didos!” With
these remarks the old fellow followed the dog, whose
ready nose had caught the scent. Irederick conti-
nued with his companion on their difficult journey.
He followed as well as he could the direction of the
Scout, keeping the moon over his: right shoulder.
Had he not paid attention to this, he would probably
have made but. little progress. There is no place
where one can be so easily lost as in the forest, and in
the night time, without some marks to guide you, you

_eannot take twenty paces without being com >letely

confused as to the right direction to be followed.

As our young couple journeyed on, their conversa-
tion was naturally directed to the exciting incidents ©
connected with the circumstances by which they were
surrounded. But gradually the topic changed, until
at last Frederic found bimself whispering in the ears
of the blushing maiden that tale which the poet tells
us should be told by the moonlight alone!

It was a very pleasant mode of whiling away the
tedium of their night tramp, and from our heart we

 

  
  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

cannot blame the young man. He was without doubt
prompted to it by the desire to make his comp inion
forget the dangers and difficulties which surrounded
them. And most admirably did he succeed. We
doubt ifa savage had started up at their very elbows
they would have bestowed more than a ‘careless
glance upon him. They were wandering alone in
that happy reverie, in which young lovers, it is said,
are wont to indulge, when Frederic was startled by
feeling a hand pressing on his left shoulder.

“TLa, youngster,” said the well-known voice of the
Scout, to Frederic’s great relief, “is this your right
shoulder? The moon up yonder seems to be peep-
ing over it,at any rate! Wal, wal, *tain’t strange,
when one’s head and heart get turned, that the body
should turn with them! ‘It’s risky business, Miss, for
young folks like you tobe abroad in a forest at night;
they're mighty apt to miss ‘their trail!” and the old
man seemed to relish his joke hugely.

“But the night is fast waning, and we have along
tramp yet before us,” continued the Scout; “it’s
lucky the Injuns haven't their dogs with them to fol-
low up our trail. I make no doubt, as soon as there is
light sufficient, they will be upon our path. The party
that went down the river have returned without
the boy. When they found their lodges were: burnt,
they were awfully riled. I hope, Miss, you will be
able to keep on a piece further.”

Ellen‘assured him that she felt perfectly able to
proceed, and striking into an Indian file, the Scout
taking the lead, the party went rapidly on their way.
The utmost caution was exercised by the Scout to
prevent marks being left by which their route could
be traced. This, however; was a difficult matter;
yet he resorted to different artifices to perplex their
pursuers.

 

 

a *

 
 

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PALH. 93

CHAPTER: XI.

CONCLUSION.

The interest of the inmates of the block-house, af:
ter the return of George, was wholly concentrated on
Ellen, and those seeking to rescue her, |The fears. of
the parents of Ellen had in a great méagure subsided,
for they did not doubt that her deliverance would ‘be
effected. All cyes were bent on the woods,.in expec-
tation of the appearance of the party... But.as the sun
arose; and hour after hour went by without any-signs
of the absent ones, new apprehensions began, to fill all
minds.’ The message’ sent by» F rederic through
George, that’ Ellen would not be long: behind, him,
had greatly excited the hopes of her parents, and) they
had’ confidently expected her before the breakfast
hour. Slowly the time passed on until near noon, and
with every passing “hour the anxiety in, the. fort in-
creased.. Some two or three had taken their, station
in the tower, ‘watching and listening eagerly, when at
about twelve o’clock‘w faint: report of a. gun was heard
_ afar off in the forest, followed by two or three others.
The! party were evidently in the’ vicinity, and.had
been followed and attacked’ by the savages. , Six
young men immediately volunteered. their seryices to
go to their’ assistance, and, headed by Pearson, they
started at arapid pace in ‘the: direction, whence. the
‘sounds came. “As they hurried through) the,..woods
repeated shots told them that the party were. hotly
engaged, and guided their steps to the seene of ac-
tion.

Their arrival was most opportune. They found the
Scout and Frederic engaged’ in a regular. tree-fight.
The fugitives had been forced to take a, devious route
in order to blind pursuit. They had fortunately ar-

 
 

94 THE BORDER SCOUT: OB,

rived within hearing of the b!ock-house before the In-
dians came up with them. Finding that they would be
overtaken, they had made a stand in a heavy growth
of timber, where they found a windrow of trees,
caused by one of those furious tornadoes, which often
pass through a forest like some huge monster, tearing
down the largest trees in its path. This windrow
served admirably'as a barricade, behind which the
Scout and Frederic: threw themselves, and held the
foe at bay. ‘They trusted that the report of their guns
would be heard at the fort, and bring a party to their
aid.

The savages, some cight in number, took advan-
tage of the trees, skulking from one to another, as
opportiinity offered, gradually drawing nearer to the
fallen timber, over which they evidently intended to
make a rush, after drawing the fire of the little party.

“We must reserve our shots,’ sid the Scout,
calmly, taking a piece of dried meat from his pouch
and eating it, “the whelps are mighty tricky. Now,
here’s a trick of theirs when they want the powder ot
their foe,” so saying, the. old man. raised his cap, by
means of a stick, a few inches above the logs, moving
it slowly: | No sooner was it. up than. there followed a
report, anda ball went humming through it.

“There, you ‘see, youngster, is so much powder
burnt for nothing!” said the Scout, cooly, replacing
his cap on his head, “therefore don’t fire at the imps
anless you are sure of them.”

A shout of triumph followed the shot which, the
« 4unter had drawn from them, and three or four sav-
aves darted forward from their covers. As quick as
thought Frederic covered his man, and the flame
leaped from his riflee One of the party was brought
mortally wounded to the ground.

“Well done, lad!” said. the Scout, “they will
learn a lesson from that, that a white: has as much
cunning as a redskin!”

The late exultant shotit gave place to a yell of rage,

 
 

JOE WIEk ON THE WAR PATH. Or

as the savages saw one of their number ‘bite the dust,
and found that a trick had been played upon them.
It was a habit with the red men whenever one of their
number fell to proclaim their loss by wild eries and
howls. How different from the white man, who
stands a silent witness of battallion after battallion
mowed down, as at Waterloo, the ery of the wounded _
and the groan of the dying only filling the air!

After the cries that attended the fall of the Indian,
an ominous silence prevailed among the ‘band. Not
asound was heard for some time, not a movement
seen to indicate their presence. It was a boding still-
ness, and the Scout felt it to be so.

“T don’t like this,” he said, after waiting some min-
utes. “I mistrust the varmints are planning some
new mischief. Keep a sharp lookout, boy ; there’s no
counting on the whelps!” :

A moment afterward the party was startled by a cry
from Ellen, who had been concealed in a grassy hol-
low, out of the reach of any chance shot.

“ Frederic—Frederic¢! Look youder—there to the
right—they are creeping over the timber !”

It was too true. Four of the savages had stolen off
unperceived, and scaled the fallen trees, thus: outflank-
ing the little party, ‘Their case’ now appeared desper-
ate, and Hancock looked inquiringly into the Scout's
face. There was a ferocious fire gleaming in the old
man’s eye, and an expression of bold determination
stamped upon his features.

“V'here’s no help for it, boy,” he said, between his
shut teeth. ‘We must cach take to a tree, and sell -
our lives as dearly as possible. I wouldn’t mind it so ’
much if the gal was out of harm’s way. Lielow, Miss,
so that the shots shan’t hit you!”

Elien crouched tremblingly to the earth, while the
old man and Frederic sprang to a cover. They could
see the Indians gliding stealthily from tree to tree,
but they did not dare to venture a shot until’ they were
sure of doing exccution. So cautious were the move-

 
  

 

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

ments of the enemy, they left no portion of their
hodies exposed, save when they glided around a tree,
and then only for an instant. Both parties were on
the alert. | It. was the evident intention of the savages
to get as near the whites as possible—to draw their
five and then rush uponthem. The situation of our
little party was precarious in theextreme.. There was
the foe who'had turned their flank to be guarded
agdinst, then there was the other division of the sav-
ages, who might attempt the barricade, or agsail them
on, the left flank, whose movements required watching.
If a simultaneous) attack. had been made upon them
their case had been hopeless., Something like this had,
no, doubt, been, concerted, and while the, Scont's
whole attention. was occupied with those on the right,
Hancock’s was engaged. on. the other threatened
points.

“If we can bring down, two of the varmints,” said
the Scout. “there may be a chance for us,” for he well
knew that the savages frequently retired from the
combat on losing one or two of their party, however
great the odds were in their, fayor,

With an/eagle eye, the old man watched his op-
portunity, and. at last discharged his piece at the
partly-exposed. body, of one of the foe. A ery of pain
told that: his, shot, had taken effect, although it was
not probably a mortal wound, as the savage did not
fall. At the same moment Hancock fired, with better
success, at one of the Indians he had detected crayl-
ing over the fallen timber. No sooner were their
' pieces discharged than a rush was made by the sav-
ages on the right, with brandished tomahawks. There
was no time to reload, and the Scout and Frederic
desperately clubbed their rifles, determined to defend
themselves to, the last, while Brave stood in a spring-
ing attitude, showing a formidable row of teeth.

So absorbed had been the parties in each other's
movements, they had not observed the coming of the
young men who were cautiously approaching through

 

 

  

 
5 Ase

oH

 

 

 

  

JOE WIER ON THE WAR-PATH. 9?

“the woods. ‘The. first’ intimation they had of vneir

presence was a ringing volley poured in upou the
charging savages, accompanied by a loud shout, as
they rushed into view of the astonished and delishted
Scout and his companion.

That volley was well directed, for three ont of ronr
éf the savages fell headlong to the earth in the sfcu-

“giles of death, the tomahawk of one of theni dying

through the air and burying itself in the very tree be-
hind which Frederic had” concealed ‘himself. The
fourth, who had been wounded by the’ Scout, turned

_ to flee, but Brave was at his heels, and l:aping apon

him, brought him to the ground, where he was soon
despatched by one of the party.
“To cover, youngsters, to cover!” shouted the

“Scout, springing to the barricade and reloadiyg his

rifle, the example being followed by the rest of the

party.

But the danger was passed.. The few remaiuing

_ Savages, seeing “the fall of their com; anions, had h; ist-

ily” retreated. After satisfying themselves of their

_victory, loud and hearty were the congratulations that

passed between the young men, in which Kilen, though

_pallid and shaking with fright, as heartily joined.

While the rest made preparations to leave’ the spot,

_ the Scout busied himself in. securing the spoils, viz:
_the arms and the scalps of the fallen. This accom-

plished, with joyful steps the company started for the
block-house.

Before they arrived within sight of it, three shots,
fired in rapid succession, notified the inmates of their
approach, to which the swivel of the tower gave a
booming response. As they advanced into the settle-
ment, half way down the slope from the block-bouse,
Aunie Wilson.¢ame flying, rather than running, and

, with wild exclamations of joy, threw herself into the
arms of her cousin. Mr. Holden and his wife stood

alittle distance outside of the palisades, waiting to
receive their daughter, while clustered within the gate

 

  
 

  

THE BORDER SCOUT; OR,

were the. excited inmates, drawn-a little apart, tiat the —

meeting between the parents might be free from the

observation of what might be considered idle curios —
ity, althonzh in this case the hearts of all throbved in

sympathy with the parents.

As the party drew near, with a face glowing with
mingled emotions, Frederie stepped out fiom the,
group of young men, leading Ellen by the haud. He}
conducted her to her father, who stood with ont-
stretched arms ready to receive her. Not a svord was
uttered as they met, but folding her in a silent em-
brace, he pressed her to his heart, then raising his
hands devontly, he said in a voice trembling with the
depth of feeling:

“Father of Mercies! we thank Thee tor this!

My child was dead, and is alive again; she was lost,
and is found !”

Choking back her tears—tears springing from 4
heart. surcharged with happiness—Ellen left her

father’s to be received into her mother’s embrace. —

The hearts of all who witnessed that affecting meet-
ing throbbed in unison, and their glistening eyes
betrayed the interest they took in it. But why at-
tempt to describe the scene! It was one we love to
linger over, but. words are too poor adequately to por-
tray it.

The reception given Frederic and the Scout, you
may be sure, was neither cold nor indifferent, in
which Brave came in fora share. Such grasping of
hands, such hearty congratulations, one does not wit-
ness every day.

The next morning, as the Scout was about taking
leave, Ellen went up to him, placed her hand in his,
renewedly thanked him for his services, and adding:

“ How shall I repay the debt I owe you, Scout?”

“That depends on sareumstances, Miss,” replied the
old man, gazing on the plump hand within his bread
palm, and fondling it as he would a young bird—
“have you squared aceounts with the bay yet ?”

 

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TOKE WIER ON THE WAR PATH. 1)

“He says he is satisfied,” replied Ellen, with a glow-
ing face, casting a bright glance towards Frederic.

“ Aha! I see how it is, the rogue has forestalled
me,” rejoined the Scout. “ Wal, then, I s’pose I must
be content with an invitation to the weddin, which
in course will coma off one of these days. God bless

‘you, Miss. The lad is worthy of you, and may you

bot be happy! Come, pup,” and followed by the
dog, he left the biock-house, and soon struck into the
woods.

The main interest of our story is over. And yet
there is one more incident connected with it, which,
if we should omit to notice, we should hardly expect
to be pardoned. 5

Disheartened by their losses, the Indians did not
make their appearance again, although the settlers
thought it prudent to remain through the winter in
the block-house. In the spring they returned to their
deserted homes, and one fine, autumnal morning there
was quite a gathering at Deacon Holden’s—the ladies
all in their gala dresses A double wedding was to
take place, and prominent among those who wit-
nessed the interesting ceremory stood our old friend,
the Scout, with the noble Brave by his side.

“One year ago, this night, youngsters,” said the old
man, shaking the happy couples heartily by the hand,
“we little thought of these doings!”

A furtive glance was exchanged between Frederic
and his blushing bride, as their thoughts reverted to
their night journey in the forest, when she first heard
that tale which—

“Must be told by the moonlight alone!”

THE END.

 

  
 
, 2 M#rank Siurr’s Sung Book. 10 Cts.

 

 

 
 

 

 

THE “STAR” NOVELS ON THE LEAD!

FRANK STARR’S AMERICAN NOVELS lead all others in the Trade in in-
terest and popularity. Their circulation isimmense, Every one is asen-
sation. The coming issue (No. 112) published Tuesday, March 4th, will be
a tale of unusual attractiveness, viz. :

PHIL HUN TDR,
THE BOY SCOURGE;

The Shawnee Maid’s Sacrifice.
A STORY OF THE OLD MIAMI COUNTRY.

BY CAPTAIN CHARLES HOWARD,
AUTHOR oF “THE WOLF QUEEN,” “THE SKULL HUNTER,” ETC.

In which a lad of seventeen and an old Wood-trailer and Indian-fighter
—the noted Doc Bell—are the leading actors in a series of adventures
Star tling enough to excite intense interest and attention.

But, great as is the interestenlisted in those two implacable foes of the
bloody Shawnees, that interest is hightened by the antagonism of the
beautiful Starlight,” foster-child of an old chief, and by the wild love of
Mineola, the old chief’s own daughter. Loving each other tenderly, those

two forest maids become strangely estranged, and while one works to de- ||

stroy the Boy Scou rge, the other tries to save him, immensely to the mys-
tification of Old Doc, who don’t know what to make of the singular pro-
ceedings,

The Phantom Painter plays the part of a wood terror, and adds i anew
feature to the splendid romance, which, once read, will not soon be for-
gotten.

FRANK STARR’S AMERICAN NOVELS are always kept in print, and
all back numbers can usually be supplied by news agents ; but where any
given number can not be found on the news-stands, it will be sent to any
address by mail, prepaid, on receipt of price—ten cents, by

FRANK STARR & 00., Publishers,

Al Platt Street, New York.

 

 

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