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Copyright, 1884, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N.Y.,assecond class matter Aug. 27, 1899.
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THE CHASE OF THE GREAT WHITE STAG,

AND CAMP AWD CANOE.
BY C. DUNNING ChARE

 
 
 

matter. Aug. 27, 1899.

; 0., Publishers,
No. 34. woe oe ‘ (James Sullivan, Proprietor,)  ~ : Vol. ill,
SUT EE Geis 379 Pearl Street, New York. es OTs

pat - —i

THE CHASE OF THE GREAT WHITE STAG, :

AIND CAMP AND CANOE.

BY C. DUNNING CLARK.

 

 

 

 
5 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe,

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag;

TENYUNG iN THE} ORTH WOODS.

BY C. )UNNTLIG CLARK,
AUTHOR OF ‘FIA WAY AFLOAT,” “ CRUISH OF
THE FLYAW.\Y,” ‘““RED RIVER ROVERS,”
“PAUL DM LAC Z,” ETC., ETO,

CMIAYTER I.

THE NIGHT HUNT—%%R SPIRIT DEER — LARRY
IN TACU BLE.

“ Hist, boys, hist!” erie a low voice, ‘'Be
stiddy; aim low in the hwwil'es, an’ give it to him
when he shows his head} W'e’ll have him, spirit
deer or not.”

It was nightin the groat \voods—night; and
such a night as we never see uny where else un-
der the sun. In front of the p.cture lay a weod-
land lake, bearing away to tLe north, having
upon either hand masses of dark woods stretch-
ing down tu the very water’s «edge, with here
and there an open point where the deer came
down to drink.

The spezker, who after that dil not uttera
word, lay upon his face in tho midst of the
ground oe and brake, with his heavy rifle
thrown forward, and his eyes fixed upon a point
close to the water.

There came a peculiar, serpent-like hiss from
the left, and another dark form crept out of the
bushes on that side and joined them,

‘See anything, Little Hand?” whispered the
same voice which had spoken before.

‘‘It is time,” replied the new-comer, in the

tural tones which proclaimed his Indian

lood. ‘* When the moon touches the top of
the big pine you will see the Great White Stag.”

‘Silence, then! Itis near the time and we
might scare it.”

bere was a dead silence as the bright moon
sailed slowly on through the clear sky, tending
downward toward the spot which the Indian
had named. A great dark branch, stretching
out beyond the others, seemed to intercept the
moon-rays for a moment, and a faint Clicking
sound was heard as the rifles were cocked,

These men were out on a strange mission
which will be explained as we proceed.

Hark! did you hear that?

There comes a rustle amid the dry leaves, up-
on a path to the right, and the silence and at-
tention upen the part of the watchers become
more intenss. Every one throws his rifle for-
ward for all feel that something wonderful is
going to happen—something of more than com-
mon interest. They are here to solve a mystery,
and if it is possible they are determined to do
so, Two of them believe the strange tale which
has led then: here and two of them doubt it;
but, strange as it may seem, the doubters are
the most excited now.

Something;, what it is they cannot tell, stirs
the bushes to the right. Their plans are laid
and they ha’7e agreed to a certain course of ac-
tion, so there can be no mistake or doubt of any
kind. Still the rustling sound continues, and

/name cf the city made him shiver.

 

then silence falls. One 6f the doubting Thom-
ases of the party gives vent to a low chuckle
of delight, for he believes that it must be a
very material phantom which makes so much
stir in the bushes.

Just then the moon passed from behind the
branch, and the yellow rays fell full tpon the

joint.

It showed something to make every hunter’s
heart thrill with delight, for there, revealed in
the moonlight, stood a giant stag.

He was a beauty. Seven prongs he carried,
with every mark which showed age—a patri-
arch of his race—such a deer as would heva
led the hounds a gallant chase over hill and
dale—one whose sinews were strong and whose
wind was good to face the rugged hills and
bound through the dark ravines which thread
the mountains of the New York wilderness.

There was something more about this stag
which filled them with wonder. White as the
driven snow he stood there, under the rays of
the moon, his great head lifted high, and his
eyes fixed upon the lake, watching, with the
eager, intent gaze of his species, for the least
ce of danger, before he bent his head to

rink,

The watchers were old hunters. Many a
time, ere now, they had brought down gailant
game, but never before had they seen such a
sight as this.

But there was no time to lose, and the signal
pe from man to man, and every rifle was
ifted—rifles which seldom missed, and at that
distance surely could not. As they looked along
the double sights every one made a movement
of surprise, and lowering the piece looked wildly
at the point. *

The stag was gone!

Gone in a second—in the twinkling of an eye!
Vanished utterly, leaving no sign, and the four
men arose,

“By George, Arthur,” avowed one of the
doubters, ‘‘ the Indian is right.”

“T weaken,” replied Arthur, ‘T’ll own that
this beats me, and T’ll say that I don’t wonder
men say that the Great White Stag is nothing
earthly. Let’s go down on the point and look.’

‘But where did he go?” demanded the first
speaker, in a puzzled tone,

‘‘Where is the last year’s frost?’ answered
the Indian, in a solemn tone. ‘‘If my son
would find the Great White Stag, let him look
in another land than this.. Such deer as this
my fathers chase through the Happy Hunting
Grounds, but mortal bullets cannot touch
them.” ~

The four men stepped out into the moonlight.
First came Arthur Chambers, a New Yorker,
who loved the woods so well that two months
of every huxitng season were spent among them.
Harry Mattison, a down-East man, fresh from
Harvard, who sought health and strength in the
midst of the balsam, spruce and pine. Then
came Abe Stanchfield, hunter and guide, who
had lived so long in the woods that ne ‘

all,
burly man, with a hardy angular face, the
prince of good fellows, and a lover of the woods
from boyhood, And last, but not least, Little
Hand, the Oneida, a pure Indian, the chosen

 
The Chase of the Great White 3tag and Camp and Canoe. e

 

friend and companion of Abe Stanchfield, a
man on whose head the snows of sixty winters
had fallen, “ aes his form was not bent, nor his
strength absted.” Hoe would tire the youngest
of the party on a long trail, and even Abe
Stanchfield, that artful man, was not his match
in forest lore.’ He advanced with a springing,
elastic tread, scarcely seeming to touch the
ground, and they stood together upon the sand
near the spot where the Great te Stag had

stood,

“See!” cried the Indian, pointing to the sand.
‘He was here, for I show you his frail.”

Upon the soft sand near the water’s edge the
could see the hoofprints of the stag, and it
needed only that to convince them that he was
of wonderful size, even if they had not seen

im.

“This gets me, boys,” confessed Abe Stanch-
field. ‘“‘ Never did I ever see such a huff as
that on a moose, let alone a deer. But there
is an explanation to this mystery, if we could
way get at it.”

he Oneida shook his head late:

“Three times have I seen the Great White
Stag bounding through these forest haunts,”
he said; ‘he walks on the ground and steps on
the air; he isseen one moment and then vanishes
like the going out of the moon!”

“Three times you have seen him and yet
have had no shot at him?” said one of the young
ve three ti the Spirit Stag h

‘ mes the Sp g has ap)
to Little Hand, and three times the Oeaiay
chief has failed to raise a rifle at the great white
deer!” answered the Indian, solemnly.

At this moment they heard a wild yell and 4
thundering report from the bank of the lake,
half a mile above, All started and looked up
the lake and could hear a voice which even 26
that distance had a Hibernian sound, but w'e-
ther in rage or terror they could not tell.

“Tt’s Larry!” cried Arthur. ‘‘Come mm,
boys: the blockhead has got into trouble.”

d, bringing their rifles to a trail, they
bounded away along tke strip of sand on the
shore of the beautiful iake,

CHAPTER I.

SUSPENDED ANIMATION — P’IZENED — STRANGE
PHENOMENA.

As ny ran the shouts grew louder, and they
could tell that the Irishman, for there could be
no doubt now of his nationality, was in serious
trouble. Perfect howls of terror could be heard,
and the air was vocal with imprecations, min-
gled with cries for help.

** Arrah, musha, musha, bad luck til the
white divil! Sorrow til yees and the likes av

ees! yees niver die in yer bed! Whoop!

asther, alanah; Ab2, avick! Ob, Little Hand
© spalpeen, come up til me, for it's desthrowed
Tan unless ye give me help.”

“Hear him!” roared Abe. ‘‘What in thun-
der has he been up to now? Babes and suck-
lings, Irishmen an’ such truck hev no business
in the woods.”

“Ym kilt, I’m dead, avick!” roared the Irish-

 

ieee
man. “ Hilp, hilp, hilp. Come up til me,
b’yes!”

‘They darted out into the little open space in
which they had set their camp, and where the
white tent—which was their home while in the
woods—stood, with a fire burning ae be-
fore it. To their surprise the shouts came from
above, and looking up they saw a sight which
aoe have roused a laugh out of the ribs of

t

A great maple grew in the center of the open-
ing ad the tent had been pitched under its
shelter. Twenty feet from the ground, hanging
by one of the lower limbs in true Putnam fash-
ion, was the object of their search, Larry Flynn,
the factotum and man of all work who made
himself generally useful about Arthur Cham-
bers’s place in the city. A ‘broth av a b’ye”
was Larry; a true scion of the ‘Gem of the
Say.” He had followed Arthur out of pure
love for him, not that he had any liking for the
sports of the woods. Knowing that he would
be sure to blunder and in some way get into
trouble, he had been left in campalone, and this
wasthe result. The jolly roar of laughter which
broke from the lips of the three whites was mad-
dening to Larry, and in spite of,his situation he
launched out in threats of what he would do
when they “‘left” him ‘“‘ loose.”

“T seen a light coming through the woods and
I thought it was a fire, but it was only ia
head up in the tree,” said Abe. ‘‘Say, old fel-
ler, what ar’ you doin’ up thar?”

“TJave me loose an’ Ill be afther showing
yees!” roared Larry.

“7 don’t reckon we’d better let up on you at
all, if you are going to eat us,” avowed Abe.

‘Oh, Abe, bad luck til ye, hilp me; 1’m dyin’
Pm kilt!”

Abe ran up the tree like a cat, detached the
Trishman from the limb which held so firmly in
the seat of his corduroys, and got him up on the
main branch; from thence he quickly scrambled
back to a place from which he could gain a firm
footing and reach the ground. As Abe came
down he found Larry waiting for him at the
foot of the tree, his face a more flaming red
than his hair.

“Now, Misther Abe, Pave me ask yees at
yees think it the part ava gintleman to laugh
ata Pongal in disthress?” ‘ ed

. gO away, Larry,” grow or
T'll take a tent-pole an’ fan ye. How did you
get up thar?”

“Sure I wur afraid av the bears,” replied

~ ‘hy, 7 durned lunk-headed son 0’ a ’coon,

don’t you know a bear kin climb a tree?”

“The divil a bit! Didn’t he come at me wid
his horns on his hid, the white divil?”

‘You allus was a fool, you know, Larry,”
said the hunter, in a soothing tone, ‘‘ But, when
you talk about a white bear with horns, you
pass the bounds of credibility.”

“But I did see him, bad luck til yeesi”
shouted Larry—‘‘ a white bear, with horns as
long as me leg, Phatd’ yees say til that,
now?”

“Tsay thet you ar’ a bigger fool then I though’
you. id he h’ist you up in that trees”

 
4 The Cha of the Great White Stag a i Camp and Canoe.

“¥ went up the three afthcr I shot to see av I
killed him. an’ I fell off.”
“Wait!” cried the Indian,
Great White Stag!”
“Seen Lim! Oh, howly fly! He come a-
roarin’ dovn on me wid the fire flying out av
, his mouth an’ the borns on his hid. as high as
the threes, av yees will belave me, an’ I jist fired
wanst an’ ‘vint up the three like a rocket. An’
he med one inmp at me, when I fell off, an’ thin
he jumpe” -ver the tint an’ was away.” 7

‘*He has seen the

“Which way did he go, Larry?” aemanded |

Arthur, excitedly,

“The way the flame goes whin yees blow out

acanthle. Puff! It’s gone!”
“Don’t siy any more,” said Arthur, ‘“ Any
one can sec that you are scared out of half a

year’s grov th, but it is nove the less true that |

os have s:en the White Stag. Shall, we fol-
cw him agiin, boys?”

“Not to 1 ight,” replied Abe.
another hai k when we hear of him again, but
now I reckc.n we'll take a snack'and turnin. I

say, Larry, where are the trout we left after |

supper?”
‘I wuz tungry afther yees wint away an’ I
ate thim.”

‘“Oh, well; there’s cold venison-steaks, any-
how. Trot them out!”

“TY does »e thinking the bear ate thim, for
sorra taste van I find oy thim,” averred Larry,
with a grin

“Well, I only hops he did!” warned Abe,
looking at Larry in a peculiar manner, ‘‘ for ye
see I p’izoned them steaks this afternoon, an’
the critter that swallered them is dead meat, in
short order,”

“Oh, got away wid yees!” exclaimed Larry,
with an uneasy glance at the speaker. ‘Sure
yees wouldi ’t Pave poisoned mate about, w’u’d

ees?
we I only sty that the critter that stole them
steaks, b’a’r or human, ain’ got long to live,
bars the; big piece of lake-trout thet was
eft?’

‘“Yees diin’t p’izen that; sure?” howled the
Irishman, c!apping his hands on his stomach,

“Didn't 11 Why, I’most knowed there was
a critter ’round that was stealin’ our grub, an’I
ealkelated to rub him out, What’s the matter?

You look sick.”
® “Oh, I’m kilt now; I’m kilt intirely! Oh,
phat will I do, phat will I do? May the divil
admire yeos, Abe Stanchfield, for sure ye’ve
murdered me,”

‘‘D’yo feel bad?” asked Abe. ‘‘ Kain’t be thet
you've been eatin’ all that grub?”

“Deed an’ I have, Masther Abe. Oh, save
me; cive me something to make me aisy,”

“Vi cure you!” roared Abe, ‘* Ketch hold of
dis feet, Archur! He ain’t no use to us, an’
we'll die of starvation if hestays in the camp
’eause he's sartin sure to eat us dry. Water ik
cure him, at.yhow.”

They raised the unfortunate Larry, held him
suspended ia mid-air, swung him once, twice,
thrice, and sent him flying out into the lake,
where he went out of sight, with a prodigious
splash. Then, leaving him to crawl out of the
water as he might, the men went into the tent,
tit their pipes and sat smoking, paying no atten-

 

tion to Larry as he sat by the fire outside,
grumbling. At last he came crawling into the
tent, where he received a severe reprimand from
his master for devouring all the provision,

“Now we ain’t particular about a few pounds
of meat, more. or less, but when*a chap eats
enough for a regiment, we’ve got to shorten up
on him; we kain’t help it,” announced Abe.
‘“An’ one thing ar’ morrilly sartin: the next
time I come in yer an’ find you’ye et us dry,
I’m going to find out how a fried Irishman
tastes.” :

“Pm too tough, Abe, acushla!” protested
Larry. ‘I'd lay bard.an yer stomach, sure.”

‘‘ Dunno but ye would; anyhow, I’m beund to

try it, jest for greens, There, my pipe’s smoked

out an’ it’s bedtime. An’—”
At this moment they heard a low, rumbling
sound, which seemed to coms from ths ver

| earth below. A tremulous vibration followed,
“We'll try him

before which the tent quivered to the very ridge-
pole, Then followed three or four toud claps in

| the earth, sounding like muffled thunder, ‘and

Larry, with a ery of terror, threw himself on
his facs, while the others started up and rushed

| from the tent.

It was yet-moonlight, not a cloud in the sky,
and there was nothing outside which would in
any way account for the startling sounds. which
they had heard. As they stood there, gazing

out across the lake, they heard the sudden beat
of hoofs, and there went flying by, before their
startled gaze, the giant form ot the Great White
Stag. Beforeany of them could seize a rifle, he

had disappeared from view, plunging into the
dark woods behind the tent, leaving the three
men glaring at each other with doubt and fear
written upon every face.

“That will do,” muttered Abe, as he turned
back into the tent. ‘‘ We'll turn in, but let then
sleep who kin,” ses

And when they did sleep, it was only to dream
that the Great White Stag had risen from the
earth and was passing by the tent with flying
hoofs, and start up only to see the opening
lying silent and void under the twinkling stars,

CHAPTER III.
“YELLOW JACKETS ””—TROLLING—THE
FISH.”

“Boys,” said the guide, as they set about
preparing the morning meal, ‘I s‘pose you
think this is aqueer place. Idon’t reckon 1 can
blame you, because if there is a strange bit of
water on the face of the airth it’s this yer lake.
But I’ve got used to its tantrums, an’ as fur as I
am consarned, I don’t mind. Now then, Larry,
hev vou cleaned them trout?”

“Here they are, Abe,” answered Larry.

“Tm wu leetle astonished thet you didn’t eat
’em raw you blamed young cannibile!” growled
Abe; ‘put, let me catch you chawin’ up every-
thing in the house ag’ifi, an’ I'll hev your hide
on a bush, Where’s that fryin’-pan? You
ain’t swallered that, I hope.”

Larry brought the fryiug-pan withouta word.
Indeed, since the last night be had been under
capital subjection, and gave the guide very lit-
tle trouble. The morning was,a beautiful. one,
and the young men enjoyed it bugely, forget- -
ting the strange events of the previous nigit,

“ BILL.

 
The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. §

tee

 

Bréakfast was soon ready, and such a breakfast
as only the North Woods can give. There
were golden trout, cooked to a charm; hot
coffee; pure bread, and juicy v nison steaks,
The meal was quickly dispatched, and leaving
Larry to clear away they sat down for the
regular morning smoke.

Larry having cleared the table by the easy

rocess of throwing away the plates, stepped
Back into the bushes near a clear spring from
which they brought their daily supply of water
and took a drink. As he raised his head he saw
an object pendent from the limb of a tree which
attracted his attention, as he had never seen
one before. But as he looked he saw a number
of small insects buzzing about it.

baes’ nest; whoop!” shouted Larry.
* Honey, be the powers, honey!”

The limb was just within reach, and taking
his knife, the Irish boy quickly cut off the
branch, threw it over his shoulder, and ran for
the camp, with the light substance which he
took for honeycomb, bumping on his tack at
every step, Suddenly he uttered a yell of pain,
and as he came dashing into camp they saw his
head completely surrounded by a cloud of ac-
tive yellow insects, which seemed to be making
it very lively for him.

‘Ob, Mother of Moses, saints in glory,” he
roared, pitching the branch into the midst of
the party sitting on the ground. ‘Take the
honey, av yees want it; I’m dead intirely!”

There were many and loud exclamations,
none of them breathing very friendly feelings
toward the unlucky Larry as the party rose in
hot haste and dashed away in every direction,
each one pursued and harassed by a cloud of
the eager little creatures who were making it
60 eee for Larry.

§ last driven mad by their stings, Larry
bounded headlong into the lake and swam un-
der water until he could come up under the
shelter of the projecting bank, ittle Hand
caught up the branch and ran rapidly out of
. the camp, hurling it to quite a distance, from
which the insects would not be likely to return.
At last the party came back, and the head of
Larry Flynn appeared above the beach.

‘‘Thim are savidge baes!” he declared.

** Bees, you imp of misfortune!” roared Abe.
s. ot i you know a yallerjacket when you see
one

‘“‘Ain’t thim baes?” demanded Larry, inno-
cently. :

“You ain’t the sort of feller to be in the
woods,” protested Abe, ‘but I tell you now,
fair an’ square, the next time you take and
heave a yaller-jacket’s-nest into my lap, I'll rise
in all my majesty an’ pulverize you. That’s a
big swear,”

“Sure, av thim was not baes, I niver saw
wan,” whined Larry. ‘‘ There’s nothing nat’ral
or right in this haythen place., We'll go home,
masther, we’]] go home.”

“There,” commanded Arthur, “ get out the
boats, @ may as wel] give the trout a benefit
for if we stay here this fool will be the death of
us. lam sure. Come along, boys.”

They had two boats, or rather one light lap-
streak built on the model of the Clayton boats,
8 bark canoe which the Indian understood best,

 

and a “dug-out.” They were for trolling this
morning, and the boats were soor got ready.
Two short poles that crossed each >ther at the
center of the light craft were sei into cleats
upon each side. From these lines cighty feet in
length were to be dropped. Harry sat in the
stern of the lapstreak with a Jine one bundred
and twenty feet long, for a stern-li1e. Arthur,
similarly rigged, was in the cunoe. They
pushed off from the shore, and hcaded up to
ward a place where a belt. of dark weeds crossed
the lake, coming nearly to the surface of the
water.

The lines armed with the revolving spoons,
dropped at once into the water, and the quiver-
ing of the line, when all was out, showed that
they played freely. But the glory of trolling is
in the stern-line, and the veteran fisherman
feels it as the cross-country rider feels the
snaffle and tries the mouth of his good hunter
before the rush begins,

Ha! Harry has it! There is a quick check
as Abe pulls gently on, just touching the water
with bis oars, enough to keep him joing, There
is a rapid rush, and a great fish, flinging the
spray into the air as he rises, dashes into the
air, and they know that it is a lake trout, and a
beanty, twenty pounds at least,

Harry, flushed and excited, began to haul
away, while the great fish tugged and struggled
with him, making furious efforts to escape,
Look well that you give him no slick, or godd-:
by fish and spoon!

‘‘Kasy with bim, Harry, my boy!” warned
Abe, in the fatherly tones the guides are apt to
use to younger men. ‘‘He’s a ku’ster, I tell
you. Don’t yank; keep on a steacy strain and
only see that he don’t touch the sid of the boat
when you take him in. Ob, see hit!”

Twice the glorious fish dashed b gh into the
air, and twice Harry, @ cool fisher, gave him
the slack to fallon and gathered it again before
be could make hisrush, Abe canght up the
gaff-hook, and as the trout came ear the side
of the boat, the great hook passed into his gills,
and he was thrown into the botton: of the boat,
with a whoop of delight from Harry.

As Harry let out his lines again be glanced at
Arthur and saw that he was busy, for the light
canoe was being dragged backward by the des-
perate efforts of some great fish which bad
fastened on the stern line. The next moment
Arthur gave a cry of disgust as the line parted,
igi away went a lovely spoon and twenty feet
of line.

‘‘T guess that was a whale—nothing more or
less,” suggested Harry, with a laugh, ‘Have
you got another line?’

‘Oh, yes; I— Look at that!”

A great fish had risen to the surface near at
band, and was plunging fiercely about, evident-
ly in pain and furious. Ata glance the guide
recognized it.

‘A bill-fish!” he shouted.
a roarer?”’

Few men have seen the ‘bill ”-fish-—the sword-
fish of the northern lakes, and by tome regard-
ed as a species of pickerel, but in reality a dis-
tinct species. The head of this fish was armed
with a projecting beak nearly three feet long,
which, with the body of the fish, made the crea-

“George! ain’t he

 
6 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

ture nearly seven feet in length. He leaped
wildly about,, pee the water in the air,
and then, plunging suddenly, disappeared from
view.

‘“That’s where your line went, Arthur!” cried
Harry. ‘I wish we could have got hold of
that fellow.”

“TJ don’t mean to leave until Ido. He would
make a fine addition to my museum.”

“You won’t get bim.”

“Yes, I will,” persisted Arthur. “If he
comes near the boat Ill give him the gaff, and
see how that will set on the old ihief.”

** Crash |”

The bark flew from the bottom of the canoe,
and the long beak of the bill-fish passed com-
pletely through the bottom and stuck up in the
air just in front of the Indian. That worthy,
with a guttural cry of rage, caught the beak in
his hand before the angry fish could sink, and
with a quick turn of the hand made the end of
one of the lines fast about it. Then, taking a
knife in his hand, he burled himself suddenly
over the side of the sinking canoe and was lost
to sight fora moment. There was a struggle
under the water for an instant, and as the head
of the Indian appeared above the surface, a
bloody tinge followed him.

“Him dead fish!” announced the Oneida.
** Come and take bim.”

The lapstreak pulled up and the bill-fish was
detached from the broken canoe and lifted into
the other boat. This done, they raised the canoe
until it lay across the lapstreak, and an old coat
was stuffed into the ragged hole. This done, it
was placed in the water, and Arthur, who had
been sitting in the bow of the lapstreak, took
his place in it, the Indian followed, and they
headed for the shore where some birch trees
grew, for their day’s sport was over: unless
they could repair the mischief which the bilJ-
fish had done.

CHAPTER IV.

A TIDAL WAVE—LARRY’S REFUGE.

TH canoe was hauled up on the bank, and
being turned bottom up, the Oneida, selecting a
birch-tree of the proper size, began to peel the
bark for his repairs, while Arthur, seated on the
bank, watched Harry and Abe at their work,
They were having splendid luck, and Harry
was hauling in the fish band over hand, when
Arthur heard the beat of flying hoofs, and the
White Stag, his branching antlers thrown back
upon his shoulders, and his flashing eyes fixed
apon the Indian, dashed by at ‘lightning speed.

hey had only a momentary glimpse of him,
and he was gone.

“Tt this don’t beat all I ever heard of!” cried
Arthur. ‘‘ And of course I couldn’t have a gun!
I couldn’t have missed him at that distance.”

“You will never be the one to slay him,”
solemnly declared the Oneida. ‘Trouble will
come; it follows always in the track of the
great white deer.”

Scarcely had he spoken when a cry from the
lake called their attention, Turning quickly,
they saw Abe, half kneeling on the thwart,
looking across the lake, at this point three or

 

four rifles In width. Upon the other side of
the water they saw what seemed to be a black
wall, bearing in its bosom branches of trees,
leaves and dust. Harry was taking in his lines
hurriedly, and even as he did so Abe Stanch-
field dropped upon the thwart, and, seizing the
oars, turned the head of the light boat toward
the shore, pulling for dear life, and evident!
caring for nothing so much as to get to the lan
Behind them came the black wall, looming up
with inconceivable rapidity, and carrying be-
fore it a wave which seemed to the watchers on
the shore to be twenty feet in hight.

Abe was a stanch oarsman, and at every
stroke the light boat fairly leaped, and did not
seem to touch the water. Away they flew, and
behind them came the black wall and mighty
wave, gaining upon them in spite of the almost
superhuman efforts of the oarsman, who was
doing his level best. It was nearly a mile from
the place where they had been fishing to the
nearest beach, and it seemed scarcely sible
that the wave could overtake them, and yet it
came closer and closer at each moment.

Tho Indian had ceased work, and stood with
Arthur looking at the grand scene. His nos-
trils dilated, his eyes flashed, and he stood with
his arms folde’ on his broad breast, looking as
those grand’ old Sagamores must have looked
in the days long passed away. For, although
the Indian of the present hassadly degenerated,
there still remain some few who are worthy of
their ancient name; and such a man was Little
Hand, the Oneida.

“The Great Spirit speaks!” he said, proudly.
““When he speaks let all men listen to his
et and bow their heads. Be silent before

im ;

Arthur stood spellbound, for never had he
seen so grand asigh’. For a moment even the
peril of his friends was forgotten, but now that
pe was too imminent to be ignored. Scarcely

wenty feet astern of the boat rose the great
wave and the black wall, and they were yet a
hundred yards from the shore, Abe no longer
struggled to escape so much as to keep the stern
of the boat presented to the wave. Then the
pee wall swept down and inclosed them in its
olds, and they were completely blotted out in
the midst of that impenetrable cloud.

While Arthur stood, lost in wonder, close to
the shore, that black wall swept down upon
him, and before he had time to turn or make
any effort to escape he was hurled to the earth,
and the great wave inclosed him in its folds.
Then, for the first time, he realized that he was
not safe, and, drenched to the skin, he crept fur-
ther up the bank and clung to a small elm,

The water no longer touched him, but the
wind held him fettered in its grasp, and he
could not move hand or foot, He had heard of
the force of the Northern gale, but never until
now had he realized how utterly powerless is a
man in its folds. He could. scarcely breathe,
and it was only by throwing himself upon his
face, with one hand and arm curled about the
trunk of the little elm, that he could manage to
keep himself steady. The blackness of night
seemed to surround him, and the roaring of the
wind, mingled with the crash of falling trees
and the dash of the water on the shore, drowned

 
The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. 7

 

every other sound. He could not tell whether
any of his friends were near him, nor had he any
idea of what had becomeof Abe and Harry since
the tempest hid them from sight. Once he tried
to rise, but the moment he did so he was again
thrown to the ground.

“This is tough,” he thought. ‘‘If the White
Stag is going to bring this kind of luck on us,
the sooner he ‘is wiped out the better.”

For half an hour he lay there, and then there
was a lull in the storm; and the driving cloud
no longer shut out the light. Turning on his
side, the young man looked about him. Abe
Stanchfield, cool and composed as ever, was sit-
ting with his back turned to the wind, leaning
against the trunk of a tree and waiting for the
hurricane to pass over. Little Hand had rolled
into a crevice of a rock, aad lay silent; the
canoe, a shapeless mass of bark-and splinters,
hung suspended amid the branches. of an oak
where it had been blown by the wind. Tne lap-
streak was plunged into a thick growth of un-
derbrush and was half-hidden from sight, and
Harry’s boots alone were visible under the
bushés, where he had crawled for safety. The
wind ceased as suddenly as it had commenced,
and thé crestfallen mcn arose,

“ See here, boys,” growled Abe, “I call this
crowding the mourners’ seat. Idon’t feel well;
how are you?”

’ “Well, Abe,” answered Arthur, giving him-
self a shake, ‘“‘I am like the Zouave retreating
from Bull Run; ‘not frightened, but fearfully
demoralized,’ ”

“J feel that way myself,” admitted Harry,
crawling out from under the bushes, ‘*Do you
know that I feel as if I had been run through a
thrasbing-machine? I just do.”

“ Let’s go to camp,” suggested Arthur. “ But
say: where is my big bill-fish?”

“T don’t know anything about it,” confessed
Horry. ‘When that big wave took us, I just
turned a back summerset, and the next thing
I knew I was sail.ng through the air like a bird,
and landed in the bushes. That bill-fish took
me a wipe across the mouth with his tail, and
that’s all I know about him.”

“See!” called out Little Hand, pointing tothe
oe atall pine. ‘ Big fish there.”

hey looked up and saw the bill-fish suspend-
ed in the air,a full hundred feet from the
ground, on the top of the tree.

“Tm going to have that fish down, you
know,” announced Arthur, as he threw off his
coat. “I’ve had trouble enough with that
beast, and I’m not going to lose it now.”

He climbed the tree and threw down the
“ beast,” which Abe lifted on his shoulders and
truiged away.

It was a short walk to the camp, and when
they reached it, all started in astonishment at
the change which had taken place. The trees
had been literally mowed down by the breath
of the tempest. The tent bad been b:own from
its fastenings, and was wrapped again and
again about the body of a large tree. The
stone furnace which Abe had built was lying
flat acon the earth, and the ground was strewn
with dead fish, crab and branches; but
was nowhere to be seen,

 

" Why, where's the Yrisher?” cried Abe, ‘1
guess he’s been blowed away like a feather.”

“‘Whooroo!” cried a melancholy voice, which
seemed to come from underground, ‘‘It’s dead
Iam; dead an’ kilt complately.”

‘“*Why, whar is the durn fool?”

“Dead, yet he speaketh,” Jaughei Arthur.

As he spoke there was a scuffling sound in a
rotten log which lay just back of the spot where
the tent had stood, and again the sad voice of
mourning arose upon the air.

“ Arrah masha, musha, Larry, me b’ye, why
did yees iver l’ave the ould sod to come to this ©
Satan’s own counthry, where the white bears
have horns, an’ the wather jumps out av the
laxe altogither?”

The scuffling noise was heard again, the log
trembled, and pieces of rotten woo i fell to the
ground, A moment more and the red head of
Larry Flyon was thrust out of the hollow tim-
ber. Quick as thought Abe flunz the “ bill-
fish ” down before him. Larry looked once, and
with a yell of terror buried himsel* in the hol-
low log.

‘A fish wid a bird’s bill!’ he yelled. ‘Oh,

‘be the piper that*played before Mcses, I’m ate

up now!” #

But the roar of Janghter that followed gave
him courage, and at last, after much persuasion,
he crawled out of the other end of the log, and
stood looking with startled eyes at the ruin
which the wind had made, but keep ng well out
of reach of the ugly-looking fish, wich he re-
a with holy horror. Urged on by Arthur,

e@ joined them in their work, and in a short
time the ruins had been cleared aw xy, the tent
set up again, the furnace rebuilt, av | Larry be-
gan to prepare dinner in a way wh ch sbowed
—7 want of satisfaction with his surround-

gs.

CHAPTER V.
A MIDNIGHT ENCOUNTER—DAVE TEOMPSON EBS:
CAPES.

Nicut in the woods has a rare be: uty for the
man who loves nature, and there is no man
upon earth, rough and rude thoug 1 be might
be, who loved the grand old woods better than
sturdy Abe Stanchfield; and no wonder, for it
was his home, and under its sheltering arches
he had beard his cradle pone For his, fatber
was a hunter, and all his life had been spent
ous the scenes which he had learned to love so
well, .

After the rest were in their blankets Abe
took bis rifle and struck out upon the treil,
enticed by the beauty of the scene, and the
wish to strike a deer. For since the storm, the
woods seemed more fresh and frzzrant than
ever, and as Abe swung on under tue bending
boughs, his feet falling lightly upox the green-
sward, he drew in deep, refreshing ¢raughts of
tlre spicy air.

“Oh, durn a man that lives in a city out of
ch’ice!” he muttered. ‘‘I never staid over
night in a city but once, and then I slept on the
ruff. Ha! what’s that?”

He stopped suddenly and threw his rifle for-
ward, for he heard a sound before him as of
steps treading cautiously over the leaves. Jt

n

 
 

8 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

did not seem to be the step of an animal, but of | “You coward!” hissed Abe. “That call is

a man.

Abe sunk ont of sight in the bushes and weited,
Tt was not long before he saw a dark figure
passing swiftly in the gloom of the forest path
with the cautious step of a practiced trailer.
Just in front lay an opening into which the
moon-rays fell, and as the figure stalked across
it Abe saw him plainly, and instantly a fierce

| for help; I know your tricks.”

And suddenly releasing one hand, he dealthis
adversary such a crashing blow just helow the
ear that no man on earth, no matter who. could
have stood up against it. His head swam, and
before he could recover, a second blow laid him
on the earth. Abe, without a moment’s hesita-
tion, sprung upon him and tied his hands‘and

ery broke from his lips, and he bounded savagely | feet with his own belt and the one which the

forward.

prostrate man wore. Then he improvised agag

“Ha, Dave Thompson!” he yelled. “I want and thrust it between his lips, making it fast be-

you; come and see me.”
But, as he reached the opening,
figure was gone,
“Coward!” he screamed.
face me if you are a man, You murderin

| hind his ears.
the spectral | in his arms, flung him across his’shoulders, and
: | Tan down a side-path into the thick woods for
‘*Come out and | nearly half a mile, when he paused and allowed

This done, he caught the fellow

his burden to fall to the earth. Then he bent

thief, you dare not face me, and you know it.” | his head to listeny and heard signals from the
The only answer was a wild laugh, followed | other side of the main trail, thesignals growing
by 4 rifle-shot which cut the hair upon his left | Jouder and more impatient at each moment,

temple, and Abe Stanchfield dropped with a
hollow groan.
crashing through the bushes and sprung upon

met by Abe, who had no wound, and who
buckled in with a cry of joy, and caught him
by the wrist.

“JT reckon you've got to settle with me, Mr.
Dave Thompson,” said Abe, coolly. ‘‘ Ive been
on your trail now going onto five year, and it
secms to me it’s about time we had a new deal.”

The stranger, whoever he was, seemed to
realize that he was in a trap, and with a low
curse he threw himself upon the gallant old

uide, who, witha grim smile, calmly grappled

im, Each knew his man, and that the struggle
in which they were engaged could only end in
the capture of the stranger or the death of
Abe Stanchfield. From the last word spoken
by the brave old woodsman no sound was heard
save the hurried breathing of the two men, as,
locked in a desperate grapple, they stood
straining for the throw. If the muscles of Abe
Stanchfield had not been of steel, they must
have yielded to the iron strength of his enemy,
who met him with a determination worthy of a
better heart, His eyes flamed like two living
coals, as be struggled with desperate strength
to reach the throat of the wary Abe. But the
old hunter, always on the alert, foiled these
efforts, and the man, giving up the attempt to
use the knife, dropped that weapon and trusted
to main strength. é

“Tough, you are,” was the muttered cry of
Abe Stanchfield, as, arching his broad back,
he drove his chin into the shoulder of his enemy
to steady himself, one hand thrown about the
neck of his antagonist and the other grasping
him by the wrist. “But Pll put you down;
Tll see you swing for the murder of Jim
Fletcher, if it takes a leg.”

A bitter laugh was the only reply, as the fel-
low resisted the efforts of the gallant old man
to overthrow him. But he felt, at the sathe
time, that the iron muscles of the guide were
rapidly wearing his own out, and he could not
much Tanwe? endure the strain without yielding,
In this extremity he uttered a peculiar ay
which rung with startling distinctness throug:
the arches of the woods,

Immediately. after a man came | with a chuckle.

 

“Them skunks want you, old feller,” he said,
‘* Now don’t you seem to be a

|
d d pretty sort of a thief, say? What would
bim, knife in hand, but to his surprise he was [eae it 0 secean

you give if you could answer them, now?”

A low groan was the only answer, accompa-
nied by a furious struggle.

“Oh, yes, | know how itis, You don’t feel
well, do ye? Sort o’ uneasy like, with that bit
in your mouth. IV’d sarve you jest rightif I
hung you up thar to that limb, the sort of
marcy you give Jim Fletcher. But, come; we
must be on the git,”

He stooped and removed the bonds from the
feet of his prisoner, leaving his hands bound.
Then, fastening his right hand in the loose buck-
skin upon the shoulder of the man, he spoke in
a low, hurried voice:

“‘ Now, I’m goin’ to take you to the camp. I
don’t want you to rare up an’ be fractious, for
the first rare you make | put my knife in you;
you know me!”

Urging the prisoner forward, he took his way
by secluded paths toward the camp. The sig-
nals continued b hind them, and once or twice
the fellow half-paused, as if in doubt; but a
sharp prick from the point of the bowie and a
low “Qit on!” from Stanchfield, warned him
that there was no time to dally.

Half an hour later the white tent showed
through the trees, and the sound of their feet
roused u p Arthur, who came out hastily, to de-
mand:

“ Who goes there?” :

“ All right, my son,” responded Abe, ‘ Here
z come with a devil’s baby, if ever there was
one.

Arthur approached and looked at the prisoner
by the light of the moon. He saw a man past
the middle age, of angular build, with fierce
black eyes, long, coarse hair, and hard, cruel
features. Not the sort of person, by any mea s,
that you or I would care to meet upon a lone-
some road on a dark night.

“T don’t know who ous friend is, Abe—”

“Friend? Don’t call him my friend, Arthur,
unless you want to have a ficht with me,
were heerd me tell of Jim Fletcher, ain't
you

“The guide who was shot in a scuffle on ¢
Racquette? Oh, yes,” nee

 

 
 

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. 9

 

‘© Waal, this yer is the skunk that shot him,
an’ his name is Dave Thompson, the meanest
hound in the whole Shadagee kentry.”

‘“ What are you going to do with him?’

“Well, I donno, I did think I’d hang him
out hyar in the woods, and then I thought meb-
be the sheriff down to Plattsburg would do the
trick better, an’ more people would come out to
see the hangin’. Here comes Little Hand.”

The Indian came out of the tent and ap-
proached them. The moment he saw the face
of Dave Thompson he uttered a savage cry, and
drew his knife, but Abe with a quick jerk,
drew the prisoner behind him,

‘He kill Jim Fletcher!” hissed the Indian.
* Me kill him!”

‘““Nary, old chap. He’s mean enough, an’ he
desarves. to die, that I allow, but I’d ruther see
bin hung, don’t ye see? Jim got in a row with
some of these devils for robbin’ his traps, an’
this skunk shot him in the back an’ run, [ ain’t
the only man in the Shadagee that swore his
death, you see, an’ the boys wouldn’t take it
kind not to be at the hanging.”

“Little Hand will wait,” said the Indian;
“but he must die.”

‘In course; if I thought he was a-going to
git away I’d put a hole in his blamed hide, right
here. it a rope, Little Hand.”

The Indian brought out a stout line and the
fellow was tied to a tree; and Little Hand
brought out a rifle and sat down to watch,
while Abe went into the tentand lay down.
The gag had been removed from the mouth of
the captive, with a warning from the Indian
that he was not to make use of this liberty to
call for help.

‘See yer, Injun,” he demanded: “ what hey
you got ag’inst me?” :

“You kill Jim Fletcher,” was the reply.

“S pose I did? Kin a man stand everything?
That Jim Fletcher stood by an’ see’d me laced
with hick’ries till the blood run down my back.
If I hedn’t killed him, he’d hev killed me.”

“Liar! You shoot him from behind !” was
the answer. ‘Now you keep still, or me kill,
quick!”

The ruffian became silent for he knew that the

im old heathen was lawless enough to keep

is word tothe letter. For an hour he stood
there in his bonds, looking at the Indian, and
not a word was spoken. At last the Oneida
rose and went to tha door of the tent for some
water, after first examining the bonds of the
prisoner to see that he was secure. He was
stooping and in the act of taking up water in
the gourd, when a slight sound from the tree
called his attention, and he uttered a war-cry
which made the forest ring. All sprung out of
the tent in confusion, while the crack of the
Oneida’s rifle was heard. But, to the rage of
Ave Stanchfieid, they ouly found at the tree the
sayered bonds of Dave Thompson, who had
plunged into the woods and disappeared.

CHAPTER VI.
UNINVITED GUESTS—LARRY PROMOTED—“ WILL
YOU TAKE ’EM HOT?”
Ir would be stating it mildiy to say that the
guide was angry, He wasmore than angry; he
was half-frantic, and the Indian was scarcely

 

 

less so, although. he was not by any means sb
demonstrative as the other. Yet you could see
by the flash of his dark eyes that he meant busi-
ness, and that it would go hard with Dave
Thompson if he should come in his way.

3 Permaps it is just as well,” suggested
Arthur. ‘‘We came out here to hunt game,
not murderers. And besides, don’t you see
that it is going to make us trouble if we bother
with these fellows?”

“7 see you don’t know this yer gang, Mister
Chambers,” answered the guide. ‘Do you
think they meant to give us any rest? Why,
these are the men who ar’ wipin’ out the game
in the Shadagee; the men that kill a dozen deer
in aday fur the sake of their skins, en’ leave
the meat to rot in the sun in the middle of the
summer; the skunks thet net the lakes arter
trout, an’ take them out’n the woods by the
wagin-load; the men thet rob traps an’ ain’t got
vim enough in them to set one; and last, the
men thet meant to rob this yer camp ef I badn’t
lit onto the cuss by accident.”

“Such men deserve punishment, I am well
aware—”

“Desarve- it? Yes, an’ they’re gwine to git
their deserts or thur ain’t no snakes in the Penn-
sylvany mountains, I’m a plain sort of critter,
an’ I don’t advertise to go out’n my depth, but
you bet yer bottom dollar I go my length to get
even with Dave Thompson an’ his gang; you
hear me!”

“Well, Abe, old fellow, I only hope you may
succeed; that is all I can say about the matter.
As farasI am concerned, I'd like well to see
justice done to that fellow; but, at present, J
can’t see what you can do aboutit. Let bim
run, and we'll go about our business.”

Abe shrugged his shoulders and made ro
reply, walking sulkily down to the lake to
catch some trout for breakfast, for these stir-
ring events had made the time pass rapidly,
and morning was just breaking. By the time
he had caught a mess of trout the Indian had
built up a fire, and Larry crawled out lazily to
cook the breakfast, looking about bim in con-
siderable doubt as to whether the bill-fish, which
was drying in the sun, could be considered safe.
All the tumult of the night before had failed to
rouse him, and he listened quietly to the orders
of his master to keep a sharp look-out and fire
@ gun asa signal if any strangers came near
the tent. Then, after breakfast, the party took
their guns and pushed out from the, shore, the
canoe dug-out working very easily.

had promised himself a feast in the
way of fish chowder for the noontide meal.
He took one of the lake trout, a beauty, weigh-
ing nearly twenty pounds, and dressed it
neatly. He had plenty of pork, and added
to the’dish some venison which he had on
hand, and laying the meat upon the top of a
stump which had been sawed off smoothly, he
chopped it fine with a couple of bowie-knives,
putting in seasoning to suit his epicurean taste;
and Larry was a good cook. It was nearly
eleven o’clock before his chowder was fairly in
process of cookery, and, lighting his pipe, Larr’
sat down to watch it, when a man came stroll-
ing ae thelake in a careless way, and walked
into the opening before the tent. The Irishman

 

 
  

 

10 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

took up a gun which was set just Inside the
tec wud cucKed 1, and the man stopped and
looked at him. Without paying any attention
to him, Larry raised the gun to his shoulder
and fired, and wasinstantly kicked over on, his
back, while the man advanced quickly.

“Don’t do that ag’in, greeny,” he said.
‘You ain’t got no call to fool with guns.”

“Sure, who are yees that knows me busiuess
so well?” demanded Larry. ‘‘J does be thinkin’
av I want to shoot off me gun I hev a right.”

“Don’t do it ag’in!” persisted the man; ‘‘ you
might hit something, you know. Who keeps
camp here?”

“ Mesilf,” .

‘Where are the others?”

“‘T dunro; they wint away moigbty ’arly in
the morning.”

The new-comer, who was a rough-locking
ae man in greasy buckskin, raised his

ngers to his lips and whistled, and Larry rose
slowly to his feet.

“Now, acusbla,” he said, ‘av I moight give
yees a bit av advice, w’u’d yees listen til me?”

“Oh, let up, greeny! I don’t want to fool
with you.”

‘“There’s room for yees somewhere else, sur;
go away wid yees.”

The man uttered a jeering laugh, but scarcely
bad it left bis lips when he received a whac
which made myriads of little stars dance before
his eyes, and there was Larry prancing about
before him, flourishing in the air a huge stick,
which he made whistle through the air with the
ease and grace which only an Irishman can
give to the use of a stick, :

‘*Oh, come up til me, me bucko!” he yelled.
“Ye thafe uv the wurruld, ’m waitin’ fur yees.
Whoop; hooroo!”

Larry was a queer fellow. Nothing of an or-
dinary nature could trouble him in the least; it
was only things which seemed to smack of the
supernatural that he feared. As for going back
astep before_a single man, that was not in his
nature, and as the intruder rushed upon him be
received another blow which sent him reeling
back, with a dark line across his forehead where
the stick alighted.

He uttered a roar like that of an angry bull
and dashed in again, holding up bis rifle as a
guard for his head. But the egile Irish boy
seemed to have wings on his feet. He danced
here and there, flourishing his stick, and dartin
in now and theu to deal a blow, until, rendered
frantic by the injuries which he received, the
fellow sprung back and cocked his rifle. Larry
paused at once.

“Why, ye spalpeen,” he cried. ‘Is that the
way yees fight; wid a gun?”

“Pl bore a hole plumb through you if you
don’t drop that club.”

“Look now, darlint!” answered Larry. ‘“T’ll
t'row down this bit av a stick en’ lick yees wid
me bare hands av yees put down the gun.”

“Drop it, I say; ’m going to shoot if ye
don’t.” ;

Larry dropped the stick, for be was not above
being persuaded. As he did so half a dozen
men, with Dave Thompson prominent amon
them, came into the opening. They were all
ermed with rifles, and if ever a hard crowd was

 

banded together this was that crowd. Two of
them were half-breeds, with their Indian love
of slaughter intensified by the vices of the white
man. A third was a burly negro, as untamed
and wild as when his sires roamed through the
jungles of Ashantee land, and the rest were
shepherds all. It is no wonder that Larry be-
gan to think that he had falen into bad com-
pany and wanted to back out.

“Now, whar’s them half-hearted skunks that
had mein a hitch?’ growled Dave Thompson.
“T want to see em.”

“ Maybe yees moight see thim too quick, ala-
nab!” retorted Larry, who seemed to improve
in the presence of danger.

“This is their white nigger, Joe,” announced
Thompson, addressing the negro. ‘What do
you think of that?” ;

“Me tie him up; give bim forty on de bare
back,” said the negro. ‘Want to know how de
wite folk like to tas’e de hick’ry.. Nigger git
flog enough; nebber see white man git de
same.”

“Don’t bein a hurry,” commanded Thomp-
son, ‘All in good time, Joe; the feller is sassy
enough, an’ a good lickin’ will do him good, ’m
thinkin’, Here, you Irisher; dish up some grub
for us.”

“Dye think me a fool? W’u’d I give yees
what I cooked for the masther? Sorra a
taste.”

““Now, see hyar, my lad,” said Thompson,
with an angry scowl; ‘‘I dunno what you
mean by talkin’ back. I want you to dish up
that grub, an’ be sharp about it, or Til tie you
to a tree and lace you with hick’ry sprouts until
the blood runs.”

Larry saw how useless it was to contend with
them, and he brought out the tin plates which
formed part of the ‘‘kit” of the party, and
dished up the savory compound. The party sat
down, having first piled their guns near the
doorway of the tent. Larry knew how to
make a chowder, and the expressions of delight
& the ruffians gorged themselves were without
imit. iS ,
“See yer, you white nigger!” cried Joe, “TI
gib it up; youse ain’t gwine to git licked; youse
got to go wid us an’ cook fer de party.”

‘“That’s so!” answered Thompson. ‘‘ We've
been needin’ a chap like him a good while.
Gimme some mors that stuff; what d’ye call it,
say?

‘Fish in it, ain’t there?”

‘Yes; fish, and pork, and deer mate,”

They helped themselves again and again, and
Larry urged food upon them, casting anxious
looks across the lake from time to time. At last
a bright look came into his face, and he turned
to Thompson.

“Tl tell yees phat I'll do,” he said. ‘‘ Have
a toime to wait while 1 make some illegant

atither- cakes?”

* How long ’ll it take?”

“1 dunno; half an hour, mayhap. I’ve some
illegant maple melasses.”

“Go ahead! I like you, my boy; youl do
fur us.”

Larry did not hurry himself, but in about the
time set the griddle was over the fire and the

 

 

 

 

  
The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

il

 

first-batch of hot cakes had been passed around.
The fellows had never enjoyed such fare, and
ate as if they had been starving for a month.
Dave Thompson, especially, seemed to enjoy
himself to the utmost.

“ And T’ll tell you what tickles me, boys,” he
said. ‘To think thet I’m a-settin’ hyar eatin’
Abe Stanchfield’s grub, an’ makin’ his white
nigger cook for us almost bu’st’s me a-laffin’.
Yes, I don’t keer ef I do take another lot.”

“TD yees like thim?”

“Tike ’em! ’tain’t no name fur it. I love
‘em, I adore ‘em, an’ I ain’t a-talkin’ in my
sleep, naither.”

“Won't Abe be mad?”

“T reckon. I’m going to wait hyar till he
comes, boys, an’ when he does we’}l make it
mighty hot for him, More cakes, you skunk;
hurry up.”

“ Would you like.’em hot?” said a quiet voice
at the tent door. ‘‘’Cause hyar we ar’, ready
to give ’em to you.” ;

There was a tniversal yell of surprise and
terror, for there, in the tent door, with their
rifles leveled on the party, stood the four re-
turned fishermen; and just at their feet lay the
rifles of the seven villains,

They were fairly caught in their own snare,
Larry uttered a wild whoop of delight as he
flung the hot griddle into Dave Thompson’s lap,

CHAPTER VII. 4
WOOD LAW—A DESPERATE DUEL—DOWN THE

GULF.
‘GENTLEMEN,” said Abe, with a jolly laugh,

as he brought his rifle to bear upon the burly
form of Dave Thompson, “ the lot of man is pe-
culiar; man ar’ a strange animile, an’ he kain’t
always flourish like a green bay tree. Dave,
eld boy, I ruther hold over you, don’t I?”

Full hand, you bet!” confessed Thompson,
“T draw out of this deal.”

_ “Here, Larry, my son, go and put a hitch on
ae critters. I reckon you kin do it,” ordered

2.

Larry, with a grin upon his face which split
his countenance from ear to ear, approached and
raade the fellows secure. He took especial pains
with his compatriot, Black Joe.

“Yees called me a white naygur,” he said,
an’ yees was going to larrup me wid hick’ry.
The sass for the goose is sass for the ganther,
Joe, acushla.” . : .

The negro only answered by a surly growl.

“Now that job’s done,” said Abe, in a pleas-
ant tone. “I can’t ask anything better’n that,
but I must chide ye, Dave, my boy, fur the re-
dic’lous way in which you cut your stick this

mornin’, hat did you mean by it?” \

“T ain’t goin’ to talk, you know,” was the
sulky answer. ‘‘T ain’t a durned fool.”

“Waal, I don’t blame ye. It touches a man
on the most tender Po of his immortal natur’
to git beat on a deal like that. It would me, I
know, an’ I ain’t a man that fails to lament

over the downfall of poor oppressed humanity.

But I’ve gota little biz to ‘tend to, an’ kain’t

ut it off. Come, Larry; git a small bundle of
ickories; I’ve got to dust some jackets.” ~

The pr began to beg, for they knew

 

that the hickories meant forest justice; that
Abe Stanchtield did not design to wait for the
slow progress of law to make his wrongs right,
Larry was not slow to respond, and in a re-
markably short space of time he was back with
an armful of second growth hickory twigs,
tough and elastic, and two or three of the pris-
oners howled in anticipation.

“Pve got to lick ‘the naygur, mind,” an-
nounced Larry. ‘ He wur goin’ to lick me.”

“Take him,” answered Abe. ‘Forty lashes
on the bare back, Scripture measure, pressed
down, shaken together, an’ runnin’ over.”

We will not dwell upon the scene. In a few —
minutes the lake rung with the yells of the tor-
tured thieves, for neither Abe, Little Hand nor
Larry laid on with a light hand. The only cne
not whipped was Dave Thompson. 4

‘* Ain’t you goin’ to give me any, Abe?” he
asked,

“No, sonny; I’ve got other fish to fry with
you. You've got to hang, as I told you.”

“Why not whip me an’ let me run with the
others?”

“J don’t think you’d run fur ef I hed the
whippin’ of ye,” returned Abe, ae * Don’t
tempt me, Dave; you dunno how I hunger an’
thirst to take the law into my own hands; an’
the Injun’s just as bad.”

Dave became suddenly silent, for there was
something in the contracted brow of the guide

which did not look pleasant, The jackets and

shirts were thrown eee. over the bleeding
backs of the men who had been whipped, and
they were sternly ordered to depart.

_“ An’, see yer!” warned Abe. ‘‘ Arter this,
the fust time I see one of you anywhere near
my camp, I put a hole through his blamed giz-
zard; you hear me /”

They slunk away, one by one, the negro cast-
ing a tiger look at the Irish lad, who only an-
swered by a jolly roar of laughter. Then Dave
Thompson was left alone in the midst of his en-
emies,

“ Now, gentlemen,” declared Abe; ‘you ain’t
got nothin’ to do with this yer. It’s only Little
Hand an’ me, an’ ef ye don’t want to know any-
thing ’bout what wo ar’ gwine ter do, don’t look
on. It’s a-goin’ ter be a square fight atween
Dave an’ me, with the Injun tolook on. Bring
him along, Little Hand.’ : :

‘ ae Indian ,dragged Dave Thompson to his

‘eet.

“Gentlemen,” he gasped, “they are going to ©

take me away to murder me,”

‘“‘Nary time; that ain’t the way we've got,
ou skunk, I tell you I’m goin’ to give you as
air a shake as any man ever got in the world, —

knife to knife, an’ ef you drop me the Injun
won’t lay a hand on you for twenty-four hours,
but give you that muchrun, Eyther you kin
do that, or I start fur Plattsburg this mornin’
coming. | What d’ye say?” ;

“Pil fight!” hissed Dave, in an eager tons,
“Curse you, don’t you know they’d tear me all
to pieces in Plattsburg? I wouldn’t have the
ghost of a show.” ; Ba:

“Sol thought. ‘You see he is willin’, gentle-
men; now don’t lip in.” ~ pz eer
_ Arthur Chambers was an old hunter, and he _

 
12 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

know that the “ rods of the valley weré not the
gods of the hills,” and that wood law and civil
law were two different things,

‘Tt won’t do to interfere, Harry,” ho said;
let them go.”

The two guides entered the boat with their
pene addled across the lake, and passed

nto a dark ravine which led up into the moun-
tains, After a toilsome march of half an hour
they came to an elevated table-land, a place
covering perhaps half an acre of land and on
cne side descending in a precipitous line to a
depth of two hundred feet. Here Abe Stanch-
field mede a pause.

“Set down an’ rest,” he ordered. ‘I give
you ten minutes. Handle yer rifle, Injun, an’
ef he tries to run, bore him through an’
through.”

The Indian nodded, and the click of his rifle-
lock sonnded on the clear air. Dave Thompson
knew that if he tried to escape the Indian
would not be likely to miss his aim, The ten
minutes were up at last, and Abe threw a large
bowie at tho feet of the villain.

“T ain't goin’ to waste much time talkin’,” he
said. ‘For Jim Fletcher’s sake you orI hev
got to die.” :

Dave caught up the knife with a savage grin.
It was his favorite weapon and he did not think
the man trod the woods who could equal him in
its use. The Indian, with his rifle clutched in his
strong hands, leaned eagerly forward as the

two bitter enemies, their knives firmly grasped,
stood glaring at each other, Then they began
to move about the platform in eccentric circles,
each watching keenly for an opening, ready to
dash in and deal a fatal blow. Dave Thomp-
son made the first effort, but retreated with a
snarl as the cool old hunter received him, and
drove him back with a cut across the fore-arm.

“Try again, Davy!” he called out. ‘ There’s
more:of tbe same sort in the shop.”

Again thecircling began, and, as before, Dave
Thompson was the first to get tired of it and
dash in. This time the point of Abe Stanch-
fleld’s knife barely grazed the jugular vein, and
the ruffian felt a clammy sweat start out upon
his body as he realized how close he had been to
death. There was something so steady in the
manner of the hunter as he stood ready, so icy
in his composure, that it struck a chill into the
bones of the scoundrel.

“He means to kill me,” he thought. ‘He'll
tire me out, an’ then—I won’t wait!”

He hurled himself suddenly upon the hunter,
and for five minutes there was one of the most
desperate knife duels which the Indian had ever
seen, The clash of the knives seemed incessant,
_ the sparks flew from the meeting steel, and Lit-

3) Batid grew wildly excited, for it seemed to
him that it might go against his friend. Both
men had been wounded, and their blood was
flowing fast, and yet there was the same calm,
confident smile upon the face of the guide, and
the Indian felt more safe.

«Keep cool, Injun!” cried Abe. ‘‘ You don’t

know the old man; he never takes water, you |

gee.”

“You are tryin
ape ‘“We'll see about that.”

And he attacked more fiercely than ever, and

to tire me out!” hissed

 

 

Abe met the rush coolly, putting aside the steel
and making very little attempt to return it.
Dave Thompson knew well that the iron frame

| of the guide could wear out his, and for this

reason he forced the fighting.

“T wouldn’t have }our temper for anything
in the world,” observed Abe, grinning. ‘‘ You
ar’ a vicious cuss, ain’t ye? Tryin’ to cut me,
ou ar’. Dunno what you mean by such con-

uc’.

Thompson was breathing Hard and his blood
dropping from several slight wounds, and Abe
seemed fresher than ever.

“TY ain’t gone fur ye yit, my son,” he said.
“T want to see ye dance fust; it does me good.”

And Abe’s keen eyes, watching every move-
ment of his adversary, saw that he was nearly
done, and that this attack was like the last flur-
ry of the whale.

“Took out fur me,” he said, in a cheerful
tone. ‘I’m a-cumin’.”

Tho assailant became the assailed, and a cry
of delight broke from the lips of the Indian as
he saw the resistless nature of the attack, Vain
was the interposition of the knife of Dave
Thompson to ward off the blows which’ were
showered upon him. The keen point menaced
him here, there and everywhere. Three times
in as many seconds had the steel drawn the
blood of the ruffian, and only by leaping out of
reach did he escape death.

But’Abe followed him closely, hand and foot
obedient, his eyes ever on the alert to ward off
danger, and at the same time to take an oppor-
tunity to deal a blow. It was no longer a ques-
tion of who would win, but what time it would
take for Abe Stanchfield to break down the last
defense of Dave Thompson and lay him low.
Foot by foot he pressed him back, Dave striv-
ing desperately to save himself, but the look of
despair upon his face showed that he had given
up hope. eg ;

All at once a cry which was half pity broke
from the lips of Abe Stanchfield, and he sprung
forward with outstretched hand as if to grasp
his enemy. Dave Thompson bounded back, and
witha low wail of agony fell over the precipice
behind him, and went crashing down into the
dark ravine, the depth of which the foot of man
had never yet sounded, Abe Stanchfield, with
a pale face, turned to the Indian:

“T have revenged poor Jim Fletcher,” he
said, hoarsely; ‘* but now it’s done, I wish some
other man had done the deed.”

“Little Hand is happy,” answered the In-
dian. ‘Jim Fletcher can sleep in peace.”

And the two men slowly descended the moun-
tain, gained their boat and crossed to the camp.

CHAPTER VIII.
ON THE RAPIDS—DAVB THOMPSON ON DECK—
A FEARFUL CHANCE. -

NEARLY two weeks had‘passed since the duel
on the mountain. ;

For some days the hunters had kept strict
guard, expecting some sort of vengeance from
fhe hand of villains whom they had so soundly
flogged, but, either they were satisfied to
“ pocket their wrongs,” or they feared to meas-
ure strength and skill with Abe and Little
Hand, for nothing whatever was heard of then

 

i ne

 

EE re Pct

neh nn
 

 

 

Sor rene, gs a ae

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. 138

 

and Abe could find no sign to indicate that they
were around,

‘“Reckon they’ve give it up, Arthur,” said the
guide. “Mayhap it skeered them when Dave
hompson didn’t come back, so they are off. I
feel easier myself, fur I’ve bin on the watch fur
a brush with ’em the last week. But it’s all
night. Now I move we heva try at the trout
in the river above the rapids,”

“Tm with you,” responded Arthur. “1
baven’t thrown a fly for three days.”

“Well, you and Abe can go, and I'll takea
ne at the ducks with Little Hand,” Harry put
ns

It was agreed, and the party separated, Abe
heading down toward the outlet of the lake, a
pull of three miles, But that distance was noth-
ing to the stout-armed guide, and the lapstreak
flow through the water as she had done on the
day when they caught the bill-fish, The shores
seemed to race by them as they careered through
the water, and they soon reached the outlet,
and were gliding down the stream under the
easy strokes cf the oars. The current grew
more rapid as on they went, until the boat
fairly seemed to fly. At last the guide checked
the speed of the little craft and cast out an
anchor, which held the boat in the rapid cur-
rent, and Arthur prepared his leader and made
ready for a cast,

The outlet was a strange one, and but that the
lake above had many feeders it ssomed as if it
must soon be run dry by such a stream. Boiow
them lay a long rapid which few men had ever
explored, and which was. called impassable by
the guides, who preferred to make a carry of
three miles to attempting the perilous descent.
It ran through a wooded ravine, and the crests
of black rocks showed themselves here and there
in the chaunel, threatening the unfortunate who
should be drawn into the swift current,

But Arthur, not thinking of that, sent his
leader flying out over the stern of the boat, and
scarcely had the brown hackles touched the
water when there was a sudden gleam of golden
sides, a swift rush, and the musical sound of th
reel was heard across the water, ,

Arthur stood with his side turned toward the
fish, his right arm thrown back, and his’thumb
ready to fall upon the reel at the right moment,
He struck, hard-and fast, and the elastic tip
came down almost to the water, while tho fish-
erman reeled away. Up came the great trout,
all his fins spread, his gills distended, shaking
his head like 4 bull-dog ina fight. But Arthur
was wary, and at the right moment the point
dropped and the fish fell upon the slack. Be-
fore he could dart the strain was on him again,
and soon a two-pound trout was gasping in the
bottom of tho boat. f

Asharp glance at the leader to soe that it had
not suffered, and a~ain the flies sailed out. The
royal sport went on for half an hour, and the
bottom of the boat was covered with the hard-
breathing beauties, when they were suddenly
hailed from the shore.

“My God!” gasped Abe Stanchfield, ‘‘ Thar’s
the man I killed!’

Both looked, and there, sitting on a rock, his
head tied up in a bloodly cloth, was Dave

 

Thompson! He had a rifio on his knees, ané
was looking at them intently.

‘Hullo, Abe!” he cried. ‘‘ How de do?”

“That is no spirit,’ spoke Arthur. ‘Bo a
man, Abo; the fellow has managed to escape.”

“Yes,” answered Abe; ‘‘ and he bas coms for
his revenge. Get at your rifle, if you can, and
give him a shot,”

‘Don’t stoop, eyther of you,” cried the scoun-
dre]. ‘‘The fust man that makes a movs, I
bore him! Did you think Iwas dead, Abst
Ob, no! DPve bin laid up, but Pm all right now.
I’ve brought a pill for you, Abe, so come asltora
and we’ll settle.”

‘What do you want?”

“Want to settle, Will ye come ashore, or
moust I plum you whar you sit?”

“Oh, PIL come,” answered Abe, “Pull u
the anchor. But hold on a minute while I spea
to Dave Thompson. Say, you; I won’t come
ashore unless you take that rifle and lay it
under that big oak. If I’ve got to be shot, I'll
take my chances in the boat.”

“Oh, I don’t want to shoot you,” protested
Dave, in a sneering tone. ‘When you die it
won’t be suddenly, for by the gods, I’ll roast
you alive.”

“Then carry the rifle to the tree and come
back.”

Dave did as he was directed, and Arthur
Chambers reached for his rifle.

‘Hold on!” drawled a voice from the other
side of the river. ‘‘ That won’t do, stranger.
Drop the gun.”

“ Might hey known we was watched,” growl-
ed Abe, as he saw a rougif fur cap rise above
the bushes, “Get up the anchor, quick, Ar-
thur. One thing is sure, I’m not anxious to
land there in the face and eyes of that nest of
Villains.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, Lain’t sure. I’ve got an idea how it
will end.”

Arthur pulled up the anchor, and, at the same
time, Abe attempted to ship the oars, but in
some way, while he was doing so, one of the
oars fell overboard before the anchor was off
the ground. Abe flung himself haif over the
stern and made a grab at’ it, but it floated out
of reach, ;

“You durned fool!” yelled Dave. Up with
your anchor an’ git that oar.”

Arthur threw the anchor into the boat, while
Abe caught up a paddle and sent the lapstreak
flying down the current. It was a hard chase,
but in the space of three hundred yards Arthur
bent over the side and caught the oar. As he
did so he saw a grim smile upon the face of the
guide—a look which ho had never seen there be-
fore, and understood there was some deep mean-
ing in the loss of the oar. 2

** Lay it in the boat,” said Abe, quietly, as he
turned her slowly, by the aid of the paddle, so
that he Jooked down-stream. ‘Do you want to
know where I am going?”

“Where?”

“Down the rapids! -A man has only one
death to die, and, though the chances are a hun-
dred to ten against us, down we go!”

“But it is death, swift and certain, Abe!”
gasped Arthur Chambers.

so ht ge gh

 
    

14 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

“*fAnd d’ye think them men will

$ are us?”
cried Abe. ‘‘ Good-by, you low-lived skunks!
I’ve got to leave you.’

And, plunging his paddle into the water, for
he preferred it to the oar in such 4 current as
this, Abe headed the lapstreak into the boiling
rapid that lay below.

hen, for the first time, Dave Thompson un-
derstood how he had been tricked, and a yell of
disappointed malice burst from his lips. He
had counted on seeing Abe Stanchfield die by
cruel torture, and that he would dare certain
destruction in the boiling rapid had never come
into his mind. He ran back for his rifle, while
the man in the fur cap sent a ball after the fly-
ing boat, but it was worse than firing at a flying
doe, and he missed. Just as Dave Thompson
came rushing back the boat plunged between
the black walls of the ravine, and was out of
sight.

“Let ’em go!” hissed Dave Thompson, with a
bitter oath. ‘‘Thoy’re doomed, cead, an’ per-
haps it’s jist ez well, fur ef Abe bad come ashore
he’d hev put one or two of us on our backs afore
he’d give up. Ha! Look thar!”

High on the cliff which bordered the ravine
they saw the Great White Stag. A moment he
showed in full view and then ho was gone!

** Ho’s come to us this time,” said Thompson,
with a shudder. ‘“’Pears like it’s tuck the
starch out’n ma, somehow. Come, boys, let’s
go, fur we’ve seo’d the last of Abe Stanchfield.”

It, appeared so, as the boat, no longer pro-

elled but steadied by the paddle, shot into the

viling caldron which ran between the rocks.
Arthur, crouching in the middle of the craft
looking out ahead, felt that they had a fearful
gantlet to run, and that, as Abe had said, the
chances were a hundred to one against a safe
‘passa ze,

‘*Have you ever been down here Abe?’ he
asked, without turning his head. -

‘‘Nary! an’ I don’t know the man thet has.
‘I hev heerd men brag, but I never see ’em go
down. But for your life lie still an’ keep the
‘boas stiddy.”

He was a master with the paddle, handling it
‘with graco and ease, Againand again it seemed
‘that they were rushing upon certain destruc-
tion, but as often the powerful sweep of thepad-
idle carried their shell away from the underly-
ing rock. Black water is the safest in a rapid,
and no one knew this better than the guide.

Looking at this brave man Arthur Chambers
‘felt his own heart grow stronger. There was
Jhope in his look, actually hope, and a proud,
:contident smile upon his lips.

“If she goes over let the current take you,
Arthur,” the guide warned. ‘It is the best
‘chance you have got. Ha! Do you hear that?”

Above the rush of the rapid came a well-
‘known sound—the sullen boom of water drop-
ping over a fall, Abe said notbing, but his

gripe upon the paddle tightened, and bis eyes ;
6 To stop or turn was impossible, |

egan to blaze, I
ithey could only go on and face what was before
them, no matter what it might be. Tbe air cut
by their ears with a whistling scund, and no
bird passing through the air made a more rapid
‘flight than the rushing boat. Louder and kuder
wr the roar of the torrent, and the little craft

 

 

a»

shot into a narrow opening in which the water
in the center was actually piled several feet
higher than at the sides. The fall was before
them, and how high it was they did not know,
but over it they must go and take the chances.

Life or death; which would it be? It was
hard to tell,

The water seemed to slope downward more
and more, and they were out of the broken
water of the rapid, but before them rose a fleecy
mist, a as if the water dashed down froma
terrible hight. Abe slipped his hand further
down the paddle and secured a firmer hold, and
as the boat ‘neared the verge he gave a fierce
stroke which sent the light shell flying out into
the air like an arrow. She bung suspended for
a moment and then fell with a crashing sound,
luckily out of reach of the broad sheet of water,
which dropped from a hight of twenty feet,
The sharp prow of:the lapstreak went into the
water, carrying the two men, who clung to her
desperately, and wuen they rose they were
floating in a broad, deep pool, safe and sound.

They had dared the unknown perils of the
rapid, played a game with death, and—won!

wimming side by side they pushed the boat,
full of water, before them, and reached the
bank, where they clasped hands in silence and
thanked the Giver of all for their safety.

CHAPTER 1X.
AFTER DUCKS—HARRY’S LUCKY SHOT.

WHILE these stirring events were passing,
where were Harry and Little Hand?

The dug-out, under the strokes of the Indian
paddle, soon reached a creek a few miles abuve
the camp, where the ducks made their haunt,

The opening from the lake was so narrow that
it was with difficulty they could push the dug-
out in. Once inside, however, they found them-
selves in a broad sea of waving flags, rising six
or eight feet above the water, with but a nar-
row channel, through which the creek found
its way to the lake. Harry laid out his double
barrel and prepared for work, for be knew that
it would not be long before the game would be
before them.

The silent paddle of the Indian scarcely seem-
ed to stir the surface of the placid creek, while
his eyes were fixed upon the waving stretch of
tall flags before bim.

Harry, with bis gun laid across his knees, sat
faciug the bow, when there was a sudden rush
of many wings, aud up rose a great flock of
‘ butterballs.” They went speeding away up
the stream; but thrice the gun cracked, and
five of the flock dropped before the discharge,

While the Indian paddled about to pick up
the game, Harry inserted another shell and
looked about for a shot. He had not long to
wait, when, with aloud quaak, a great black
duck, resplendent with red about the neck and
head, came speeding down the creek, high in
air

Harry rose upon his knees and slowly brougbt
his gun to bear vpon the duck. 1t was a long
shot, and he hesitated whether or not to waste
a shell, when the hunter’s instinet overcame
him, and he pulled,

The duck now. wheeled and started off at
an augle, presenting his side to the hunter's

 

   

 

 
 

The Chase of the Great Whiie Stag and Camp and Canoe.

16

 

aim, and the second barrel scunded. It was an
eighty-yard shot, but the duck, stricken even at
that distance, folded her wings-and plunged
headforemost into the tall reeds which lined
the channel. -

“ He got it that time,” announced Harry, de-
lighted, ‘Push the dug-out in’there, Little
Hand; I want that fellow.”

By a great effort the Indian crowded the ca-
noe among the reeds, and reached the duck. As
Harry took it in his hand the Indian rose in
the canoe and looked over the ig of the flags,
No sooner had he done so when he sunk out of
sight, and caught up his own rifie, which lay in
the bottom of the boat. ;

‘(Load quick!” he whispered. ‘Maybe we
have fight, pooty soon.”

Harry slipped a shell into each barrel of his
gun and brought his belt round so that he could

‘et at his revolver more readily. Scarcely had
ce done so when be heard the cautious dip of
paddles, Then the sound ceased, and peeping
through the flags, Harry could make out the
dim outlines of a large canoe, lying idly on his
water.

‘Dey mus’ be near by,” said a voice which
could only belong to a negro. “I heerd de guns

0,
“They hey put up this way,” declared an-
other voice,

‘Don’t car’ whar dey done gone, but I’s boun’
ter fin’ ’em. I don’t let up on dem debbles dat
lick me wid hick’ries. Dave is arter Abe
Stanchfleld, hot blocks, an’ I’s in duty boun’ to
fetch in de skulp of dat Injun and de Irisher.”

They knew him now. 16 was Black Joe, the
negro, who had been flogged by Larry.

fad the canoe made two or three strokes
abead they rust have seen the place where the
dug-out had been pushed into the shore reeds,
But their eyes were turned toward a feeder of
the creek which ran up into the land for halfa
mile or more, As they looked they saw a great

{ flock of ducks come sweeping down from that

point, evidently frightened, and it decided
them. The dip of the paddles was heard and the
canoe receded,

The moment the sounds became more faint
Little Hand caught the reedsand began to drag
the canoe out into the channel. Once there he
caught up. the paddle and headed the canoe
down toward the mouth of the creek. Justas
he did that, Harry’s gun, the lock of which was
at full cock, was accidentally discharged, and

, they heard in the distance an angry cr

y:
“Tako a paddle!” ordered the Indian. ‘‘We
mus’ go fast now.”

“IT don’t like to run,” protested Harry; ‘ but
there are times whenthe bravest men must run.
Let them chase us on the open lake if they will,
and we can mest them there,”

By this time they had reached the mouth of
the cresk and pushed the dug-out through, and
under the united strength cf the paddles rapidly
receded from the shore, when they saw the ca-
nos pushing outof the channel, and they saw
that it contained four men. In tho bow, using
his paddle with giant strength, was Black Joe.

‘“Hol on dar!” he cried. ‘‘Want to hab a
little conversation wid you.”

A loud laugh from Harry was the only reply.

 

‘* You'd better stop, or it will be the worse
for you!” cried the second man. ‘ We’ve gota
bone to pick with you.”

‘What do you want?’ demanded Harry.

“Want to talk with you,” was answered
back.

‘We can’t wait,” was the reply.
another time.”

With yells of rage the villains bent to their
paddles, and in spite of the skill of the Indian,
aided by the strength of the young man, the
large canoe began to gain,

**T cut your heart out, you white man, you
min’ dat!” screamed the negro.

“Don’t you think you'd better catch a fox be-
fore you skin him?” howled Harry. Thenina
lower tone: ‘‘I say, Little Hand; I can step
that canoe. Some of them may get hurt, but I
don’t care so much for that.”

You no kill dem, dey kill you.”

“Keep her going, then,” said Harry. “ I'll give
them such a stari as they never bad before.”

He took up his rifle, which lay beside that of
the Indian in the bottom of the canoe, and tak-
ing a small box from his pocket, he extracted a
strange-looking cylindrical shell which he in-
serted in tho breech-loader, Then, bringing -it
slowly to his shoulder, he took careful aim, not
ay of the men in the canoe, but at the canoe
itsdlf.

He pulled.

They heard a tearing sound as the missile
struck tho canoe, accompanied by a loud explo-
sion, and a gaping rent showed itself in the side
of the canoe, and she began to sink at once.

“Shall I give them another?” asked Harry, as
he loaded again.

‘No, no; itis enough, See, the canoe sinks!”

He was right. Tho canoe gave a lurch and
the party were seen struggling in the water, ut-
tering cries of terror, and abandoning every-
thing in the mad desire to escape. Guns, am-
munition, everything they valued most, were
lost in an instant, and they were seen swiin-
ming rapidly toward the shore,

“We ought to go and kneck them on the
head,” declared Harry, “but we will not eo it,
I don’t think they will trouble us again, Little
Hand.” :

The Indian shook his head, for he knew the
vindictive natures of this classof men, But he
continued to paddle on, and in half an hour they
were at the camp, ;

‘“We break camp right away,” said Little
Hand; fin’ nother piace. Dis no good now.”

“TJ think you are right,” admitted Harry.
“We might, and probably would, beat them in
the end, but some of us might get hurt, and it
reed not pay. I wish Abe and Arthur were _

ere.

“They come in soon,” declared the Indian.
“We pack up now, so be ready.”

The tent was struck and divided at once, for
it had been made in such a way that it could be
divided for carrying purposes. All the other
articles for use in the camp were also divided
and packed in the same way, and in an bour all
was ready. Scarcely was this done when Ar-
thur and the guidecame in ona run, and looked
pleased when they saw what had been done,

“We'll change the plan a little,” said the

“See you

 
  

7

16 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

 

guide. ‘*Come around me, and I’) tell you.”

 

Night came, and the tent had again been set |
up and gleamed white under the rays of the |

moon. In the forest outside lurked the bloody
band of villains who had so long disgraced the
woods by their presence, waiting for the time
to come when they could rush in and surprise
the sleeping men. Abe and Arthur gone, they
did not look for much trouble with the other
three, Tho ruffians had been joined by Dave

Thompson and the others who were with him, |.

and he heard with rage of the fate of the canoe
before the explosive shell from Harry’s rifle.

“Never mind, Joe,” he said, placating the |

negro, who fairly foamed with rage while re-
counting the event, “I’ve fixed the man I
hated most of all and I'll help you to fix the rest.”

“TLe’s go fur them now!” hissed Joe. ‘‘ Ise
mos’ crazy till I git a chance at dat man dat fire
de canoe all to pieces. I los’ my rifle an’ pow-
der-horn, an’ Ise got to hab dat one.”

“All right! But wait awhile, my beauty.
Let ’em get sound asleep an’ we'll fix ’em.”

At last they thought the time had come, and
creeping out with Indian caution they began
their gradual approach. There was murder in

their hearts, and indeed there was not a man:

among them who had not at some time shed hu-
man blood. Villains to the core, they. would
have killed every one in the camp for the mere
love of plunder, but now they had injuries to
revenge.

Crawling like snakes, the few who had rifles
In advance, while the rest followed, grasping
their pistols and knives, they came nearer and
nearer to the tent. Not asound was heard, and
the closely-drawn curtain at the door did not
move.

All at once there rose on the clear air the cry
of anight-hawk—the signal for attack, and they
sprung up and charged together, Dave Thomp-
son leading the advance with his rifle ready.
They dashed into the tent unopposed, and—
found it empty!

Words cannot paint their rage. They raved
round the place, tearing down the canvas walls,
and gnashing their teeth in a rage as they real-
ized that their prey had escaped them.

“ But it won’t be long before I settle,” hissed
Dave Thompson., ‘ Early in the morning we'll
take the trail.”

Just then there thundered by, in the white

moonlight, the form of the Great White Stag!

 

 

CHAPTER X.
ON THE ISLAND—THE FALL OF THE CLIFF—THE
GIANT STAG.

Fivr miles below the rapids the party pitched
anew camp, which they reached early in the
eee making the ‘‘carry” in less than an

our,

Their camp was upon an island in the river,
just at the entrance to the lake. On both sides

the current ran swiftly, and if would be impos-
sible to reach them except in boats, and that not
easily. The busy hatchets of the two guides
were not long in constructing a shelter, which,
if not quite equal to the tent, was
The lapstreak

enough,

had been brought down, and

 

 

they went into quarters in high glee, delighted
Ta they had thrown the villainous gang off the
rail,

“‘T don’t think, though,” said the guide,
‘‘thet Dave Thompson will love us any better
for playing him sucha trick. I wonder how
the durn thief got away?”

“He probably aid not dropso far as you
thought,” said Arthur. ‘“Thare seems to be
a special watch kept over the safety of such
men.”

“Waal, ’m bound to rub him out, the no-
‘count skunk, an’ I only hope he won’t keep me
waitin’ too long. He thinks you and I ar’ play-
ed, an’ he won’t look to see us, an’ it mout make
him reckless. You want to understand one
thing, though; the minnit you see him an’ his
gang you want to begin to shoot.”

The next day was spent in fishing, and at

| night ace returned to the island, had their sup-
| per and t

eir evening smoke, and went to rest.

As morning broke the Indian was the first to
rise, and as usual he stepped down to the water
to take out some of the trout left there over
night. But, as he did so, he saw to his sur-
prise, that both the canoe and the lapstreak
were gone!

His wild yell called up the rest, and they
rushed down to the water. Just then a rifle
eracked, and the Indian, shot through the
shoulder, fell to the earth. Abe sprung down,
caught himin his arms and carried him toa
shelter, amid a hot fire. :

““You ain’t dead yet, hey?’ yelled the voice
of Dave Thompson. ‘‘ We've got your boats,
an’ when we'want you we've only got to take

“We'll give ye plenty of work first, you

cowardly murderer!” cried Abe Stancbfield; .

“You'll find we don’t die easy.”

Two or three balls passed through the place
whence the voice of the hunter came. But he
was already lying on his face and they passed
over him. He lay watching for a chance, and
saw, under one of the bushes on the bank, two
cane white points. Bringing his rifle down
he pulled the trigger, and instantly there start-
ed up from | ebind the bushes the giant form of
Black Joe, who tottered to and fro for a moment
and then.came crashing to the earth.

‘“One!” said the guide, grimly, ‘‘an’ one of
the worst. Let’s see who will be the next to
show a foot.”

But they were cautious now, and not aman
showed himself. Abe knew well what they,

‘meant to do, to wait for darkness and then

make their rush when the defenders could not
see them, :

“Oh, come out and be men!” he roared.
“ Don’t sneak; I wouldn't, if I was you.”

A fierce laugh was the only reply, and the
stout beart of the guide began to grow faint,

‘See here, Dave Thompson,” he said, ‘]
wouldn’t weaken on my, own account; you know
that well enough, but ’'m pubous on account of
these young men. I'll tell you what 1’Jl do: ef
you’ll let the rest go I'll come out an’ let you do
your worst.”

“Do you think we ar’ fools?’ cried Dave.
“ How long, arter they got back, would it be

 

{
|
j
peso

Win

fore a hufidred men would be in the woods to
bunt us down and hang'us like dogs? No, Abe;
that bird won't fight.”

Abe sent a ball into the bushes in the direc-
tion of the voice, a cry of agony followed

"Jest give me room ’cording to my weight
an’ I'll be durned ef I don’t wipe out the bull
collection!” cried Abe, rolling along the ground
to another position. ‘Whoopee; try it ag’in!”

The bush where he had just been lying was
riddled with balls, and two or three men, know-
ing that his rifle was empty, sprung up to Jook.
One of them went down immediately, with a
ball through the hip, sent by the unerring rifle
of Harry.

“‘ Good boy!” cried Abe. ‘ Three from eight
is five. Send ’em along, Dave, my lovely
flower, but I tell you if -you wait till night

ou’ll only be equal to us. An’ if we had a
boat we wouldn’t hesitate to sail into you
now.” *

But the besiegers had enough already, and
from that moment not a voice was heard, and
it was useless to throw away ammunition, It
was the night attack they most feared—night,

when the assailants could land at will upon the |,

island, pick out their men one by one, and drop
them before they bad a chance for defense,
For this reason Abe was doing his best to draw
on a fight by daylight, when he did not doubt
his ability to conquer them. But the severe
lesson which he bad already received had
taught the ruffians that they were not playing,
and that the young hunters could shoot close,

They drew back-from the river, under the
shelter of an overbanging cliff, and lay there,
leaving only Dave Thompson on the watch,

This man was terribly: vindictive. Since he
knew that Abe Stanchfield lived, all idea of
giving up the battle had gone out of his mind,
All his Indian blood was fully roused, and with
such men a purpose is fixed forever. He could
not pause or turn aside. With him it was onl
a question of Abe. Stanchfield’s death or his
own. In falling from the cliff, after the duel
with the guide, h's course was checked by the
drooping pine branches, and he had rolled into
a deep pool, from which he had just strength to
crawl out when he fell senseless. When he
came to himself he crawled by slow degrees to
one Of his haunts, where his comrades found
him, and, for a week, he lay there, unable to
move, and he had only been on bis feet again
for two days when he forced Abe and Arthur
to make the perilous descent of the rapids,

Two hours passed and both parties lay close.
Abe had crawled to the side of the Indian and
succeeded in dressing his wound, for, luckily,
the ball had aeet completely through the
shoulder and was not there to rankle in the
woun4

We have said that the band of despefadoes
lay in a sort of gully close under a projecting
cliff of slate which was seamed and cracked
by the action of ages, All at once the chief of
the villains, looking up the cliff, saw the great
head of the White Stag, with his towering
antlers, appear upon the crest.

“Run, boys, run!” he cried, ‘For your lives,
jomp!”

They sprung up, but they were too late.

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. ok?

There was rattling of the loose slate above
them, a terrible sound to the doomed men, and
half the side of the cliff seenied to give way at
once and come tumbling down upon their heads.
Wild cries of horror and pain were heard, and
then an awful silence, and there lay at the feet
of Dave Thomps:n the body of the Great White
Stag. As Dave glared at him in speechless
amazement the animal started up, and rearing
upon his hind legs, brought both forefeet down
upon the head of the guilty wretch and beat
him to the ground, Then, seemingly frantia
with rage, he came down again and again with
crushing force upon the prostrate form, until
it was beaten out of the semblance of humanity.
Just then three rifles cracked, and the stag fell
upon the body of the stricken wretch.- Abe
Stanchfield, who had seen all, put a pair of
revolvers into his cap and swam across, and
after a hurried glance got out the lapstreak,
which was drawn up on the bank, and crossed

to the island,

“Come over, boys!” he called, ‘ Wehave no
more to fear from them and can do our work
in peace.”

They were all eager to cross, and in a short
time stood looking down upon the body of the
giant stag. Monstrosities in nature are nob
confined to man alone, and they saw here a
creature which exceeded all ideas they had ¢on-
ceived of the size of the stag.

How this giant had been bred, why he roamed
alone along the shores of these beautiful inland
seas, no man knows. There isa hunter’s legend
to this day that the spirit of a murdered man
possessed him, the spirit of Jim Fletcher, slain
by the hand of Dave Thompson. Be that as it
may, the Great White Stag lay cold and silent
upon the body of Daye Thompson, aud the out-
law band were buried deep unier the crumbling
slate which had fallen from tho cliff, Byven
the wounded men, who had been removed to
the gully, were numbered with the dead.

They buried Dave Thompson and Black Joa
beside the lake, and those turbulent spirits
which had so often joined in deeds of blood,
were confined within the narrow house appoint-
ed for all living,

The tenters went back to their old camp, and
the rest of the season, though full of adventure,
was oue of pleasure. Mighty decds they did
with rifls and rod;’ many were the trophies
they piled up; but among them all was not one
which they so highly prized as this:

A great stag’s head and antlers, of wonderful
size, the hair white as the driven snow, and the
antlers spreading wide above the the noble
front; the head of the Great White Stag, the
phantom deer, which came in storm and tem-
pest, carrying ruin in his track!

Larry, in time, grew to love the woods, and
was well contented, but he would boast at times
of how he laid the rod on the back of Black Joe,
who called him a “ white nigger.”

In the hearts of Abe Stanchfield and Little
Hand there does not linger a doubt but that
they have done well and nobly in helping to put
Dave Thompson and his friends out of sight.
And every hunter who shares their camp is
ready to cry—amen!

\ THE END,

 

 

 
18

   

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

Camp and Canoe;
oR,
Life in the Canada Wilds,

BY C, DUNNING CLARK.
a ‘
CHAPTER I,
DAN’S LITTLE CARIBOU.

CIvIIZATION is left behind, far beyond the
blue line of the lakes, as a party of hunters
tramp away to the north—in the Canada
woods. This great wilderness has yet unde-
veloped wealth in water and forest, and year
by year the adventurous sportsman, with his
Indian guide, is diving deeper and deeper into
its mysteries. The trout, deer, and larger
game of the northern wilds, are magnificent;
there the forest solitudes teem with life. The
fragrant trees breathe forth a spicy odor, and
the rippling streams run down the rugged
slopes, all tending to feed that great river of
the north—the mighty St. Lawrence!

The party on the march comprised five white
men, and a 8t. Regis Indian. The son of the
forest, in general appearance, was not dif-
ferent from hundreds of his race—indolent,

sleepy, graceless and dirty. But there was |

more of Indiau Pete than showed upon short
acquaintance. No man knew better than he
the secrets of the north, or could lead a hunt-
ing-party with more unerring surety. He
seemed to scent game in the air; the broken
twig or crushed leaf were only so many letters
in an open book which he knew how to read.

Next came Lyman Dewitt, a telegraph oper-
ator from the West. ‘‘ Lyme” had looked at
life in all its phases; had seen good times, as
well as bad; had spent much in riotous living,
like the prodigal of old. Buta good wife, and
certain well-kept resolves, had changed him for
the better, and here he is, the quiet, fun-loving
fellow, tramping along in the footsteps of In-
dian Pete, who, doubly laden with camp equip-

. age, lopes on more easily than any of the
arty.

Next to him comes ‘‘’Than,” or Nathaniel
Wright, an old soldier, who learned to shoot
somewhere ‘away down South,” and can not
bring himself down to ordinary life withcut
paws at least’a month in each year on the

unting- grounds of the North. A stout-built
fellow is he, with a calm, self-reliant face, and
hair turning gray at the temples, Shoulder to
shoulder in battle, I would ask for no better
man than calm, stout-hearted ’Tban,

Let Scribbler pass without note. Few who
know him care to speak of him a second time,
except as a necessary evil. He exists; why, he
does not know, and while he stays will extract
as my much honey as he may from this some-
what bitter life!

‘Why Will Seaton ever allowed himself to be
seen with such a set of sportsmen I can not
tell, for he was the only one in the party who
could lay claim to anything like a knowledge
of woodcraft,

And Viator, our old Adirondack champion,

the mighty Nimrod, far away on the other side

 

 

of the Atlantic, dozing away the hours in the
classic shades of Florentine vines, might well
regret the fragrant breath of the North, and
think what a fool he was to be away at such a
time, because just now the rage for Europe is
so intense, e doubtless now realizes how
much moro of life and health there is in the
breath of the ncrthern pines, the balsam and
the fir, than in any sea voyage—no matter
where,

Will Seaton was to be our Viator, He was
a bunter who had learned his work in the west-
ern plains and mountains—a good school for a
true hunter,

Dan is here with his knife, the same one
which aroused the ire of our old guide, when we
were out with Rod and Rifle, in the North
Woods, That deadly weapon swung at his belt
like a saber, and with Dan’s homely, mug,
made him look like a cashiered pirate. But
Dan is inoffensive to man and beast, I don’t
know that he ever injured any thing—except -
by accident—and I don’t think he ever will

Such is tha party on its tramp to the North,
the heroes of this wood-epic.

We camped by. arunning stream, and, with-
out wasting time, Indian Pete set to work in
making a camp. It was summer weather and
we needed noshelter. Dan always did like to
have the work done quickly—by some one
else—so, leaving us to build the fire, make the
coffee, and do the cooking, he wandered off up
the stream. If any one on earth has a happy
faculty for getting into trouble, that person is
Dan. If there is no trouble handy, he’ll rustle
’round and stir up a little for himself, I used
to think once that no man could beat Scribbler,
our humble servant, at this sort of work, but
since I knéw Dan, I have changed my mind.

He took his gun with him, bearing as he
went a strict injunction not to fire it until he
was at least half a mile from our camp,
because we had no faith in his marksmanship.

The stream by which we made our camp
was a beautiful one, the clear, bright water
sparkling in the rays of the rapidly-declining
sun. But Dan had no thoughts for the
beauties of the scene, for the bending branches,
the balsamic odors, and the dark green of the
pine, contrasting so beautifully with the lighter
foliage. He was on other thoughts intent,
dreaming of the great deeds he would do, and
the noble game he would bring into camp; if
he could only meet a deer, a bear. a panther
—any mighty denizen of the forest, that he
might make him captive of his bow and his
spear! He forgot the bee tree and Bruin, with
whom he had struggled in the New York
woods; or, if he thought of it, it was only as a
troubled dream, which he would gladly forget
entirely. Tramping along by the silent stream.
he took no note of time until he bad actually

ore two or three miles from camp. Then, as

fs parted a fringe of bushes and looked up the
stream, be saw, standing in the water about
half a mile distant, an animal which he knew
must be a young caribou. His heart gave a

eat leap in his bosom, fcr he felt that the time
a distinguish himself had come, He would
stalk that caribou, and bring his tongue and
saddle into camp, as trophieg of bis ski

 

  
 

  

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

19

 

_ Up the stream. he went, his rifle on a trail—

making a — circuit to get the wind of the
caribou. e succeeded, and came up against
the wind, feeling his way step by step. He
knew that he must be near the quarry now;
and, creeping up to the bank, he parted the
oushes slightly, and saw the game within a
hundred feet, showing a good side shot. Trem-
bling with excitement, Dan dropped upon one
knee, brought his rifle to a level—and pulled!
An unearthly bray—a strange sound coming
from the throat of a caribou—and a heavy
splash, announced the success of his shot.
Drawing his big knife, Dan sprung into the
water to administer the “‘ coup,” when a heavy
hand wa laid upon his shoulder. 3

“Stranger,” said a stern voice, ‘‘T’ll have to
' get you to pay for that jackass! What a
Miniied fool you must be!”

It waseven so. The jackass was the property
of two trappers, who had used him in packing
traps across country to the lakes, and were on
their way home for more goods. To tho
entreaties of the two trappers—backed by the
ingenious argument of cocked revolvers—no
reply was necessary. Dan went down into
his pockets, fished out a fifty-dollar bill, and
went back down the stream, mourning. He
did not bring in the saddle or the tongue, and,
but for the kindness of one of those trappers,
who told the tale to me, this adventure of
Dan’s had never been set down.

CHAPTER IL
.. GHOSTLY TALES—OLD FATTY. BROWN.

Daw had very little to say upon his return
to camp, and we did not know until long after-
ward why he was so solemn that night at the
camp-fire, and seemed_to get so little comfort
out of his tobacco. Will noticed it, and at-
tempted to rally him upon the trouble which
was evidently working upon his mind, but the
sour and morose look with which the printer
regarded such attempts was very discouraging,
and Will gave it up and began telling blood-
curdling legends of this locality.

Dan was mute, and I felt in my inmost soul
that there was something connected with that
afternoon’s experience of which Dan had not
spoken.

“What is a mule worth?’ he said, after a
pause. “I don’t mean a mule, but a jackass—
one of the spotted kind?”

a do you want to know for?” demanded

 

“Nover
dollars?”

“Fifty dollars! I wouldn’t give that for a
dozen of them.”

Dan knocked the ashes from his pipe, filled
up again, struck a match, and wrapped himself
in a somber cloud, from which he did not
emerge until the boys went to their blankets,
But, even then he could not sleep, for visions
ot supernatural jackasses, with fearfully elon-
gated ears, ran riot in his brain; and the last
thing he remembered was a gigantic animal,
branded all over with fifty-dollar bills, which
pranced above him. And when he awoke next
morning, he looked as if he had been run
through a quartz-crusher,

you mind; are they worth fifty

.

 

Indian Pete was on the move early, and as
we marched along beside the stream, he in-
formed us that we could take out trout a mile
above. That was all we needed to throw the
party into a perspiration. Rods were jointed
and tackle prepared, long before we bad reached
the point on the river where we proposed to
begin; and Indian Pete, after a conference
with Will, left us to our own devices—carry-
nS with him our guns and other material—
: oad which would have broken the back c€ a

orse.

Wili was the quicker artist, and before we
had disentangled our tackle he was out of sight
behind a jutting rock, evidently determined to
get out of the way of the amateurs as soon as
possible. "Than, who was a skillful fisherman,
was not far behind him. When our rods were
in order, probably that stream never received
such a flogging for many a day. It is a trait
with inexperienced fisherman to suppose that
the man ahead will catch all the fish, and the
struggle was to close up with Will, who, by
this time, was far in advance; Lyme, who was
a raw fisher, hurried on rapidly, and was only
staid in his onward course by finding his leader
and flies hopelessly entangled in the top of a
small pine, which grew close to the bank,

Fishermen are selfish creatures, and leavin:
Lyme to his own devices, we raced by asd
caught up with Will. Our fears wero verified
when we saw that he had a dozen fine trout in
his creel, while we bad not a fin. It was no
more than fair that we should take the advance
a while, and we raced by. But, as we wert,
we heard the musical rattle of his reel upon the
ground we had just passed over. It seemed
that we had left one fish behind us!

“Where is Lyme?” he shouted, as we went

up-stream, our flies whistling in the air. “I
don’t see him.”
“He’s in a hitch roared Dan. ‘You go

back and help him.”

When I looked back, Will was working his
way down:stream toward the unfortunate
Lyme, and for some hours we saw no more of
either. The number of flies we snapped off like
whip-crackers, the number of times we were
forced to shin up small trees, or cut them down,
to release our flies, it boots not now to men-
tion. If we caught some fish, it was more for
the reason that the stream swarmed with them
than fof any other, for it was not the result of
our skill._

“What do you jerk that way for, as if you
were driving mules?” said a voice at my elbow.
“Young man, if you fish on my river, I judge
you'll have to fish more like a Christian.”

1 turned to see a man of ponderous build,
who would have carried off the prize at the
“fat men’s fair,” He was leaning on an un-

jointed rod and looking at us with a whimsical —

smile on his broad face. His hair, just streak-
ed with gray, dropped upon his shoulders in
long, heavy locks. His eyes gleamed with
fun as I greeted him with the orthodox saluta-
tion;

‘Who the—Adversary—are you?”

“Tm Fatty Brown, my boy—you've heerd
of me, I reckon. I’m sent down here te meet

 
   
  
   
     
  
  
   
 
  
   
    
  
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
    
  
  
    
  
   
   
 
  
  
   
  
 

_ Brown gave up the rod and followed us along

 

20 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

eon any help Injun Pete take you through the |
entry. |
Fatty Brown, the guide of guides; the man |
who, in spite of his ponderous build, was the |
ae of Indian Pete in forest lore! The three
undred pounds he carried was not all fatty
tissue, be it understood, and in succeeding days
Idid not wonder that he could lift such loads, |
or bear the fatigue of journeys over rough and
rugged roads. |
“Don’t git mad, young ’un,” said Fatty, with |
a jolly laugh, as he laid his rod down.on the
bank. ‘Give me hold of that rod and I'll give
you a lesson, Ob-h-h! this rod is a beauty.”
Then that strong right hand went back over
his shoulder, the wrist bent a little, and with-
out a sound the flies sailed out, and fell light as
snowflakes upon the surface of the stream. A
bubble in the water, coming up from below,
announced that a great fish, somewhere in the
depths, saw tho flies. Again they sailed out,
and hardly had they touched the water, when
there was a rapid rush, and with a whoop of
delight Fatty Brown “struck,” and then away
he went—reeling in for dear life! An artist in
the work, he stvod like a statue carved in
bronze, one hand touching the reel lightly and
the other, fir as adamant, griping the rod be-
low the reel. A moment more, and a two-
pound trout lay gasping on the bank, his
dying glories brightening in the sun. Fatty

the bank—‘‘coaching” us. And when we
reached the place where Indian Pete had pre-
pared for our noonday meal, we stopped con-
tented, our baskets overflowing with noble fish.
And, before Will and Lyme came in, Fatty
Brown—a cook beyond compare—had prepared
a feast worthy of Olympus!

An hour later, with loosened garments, our
pipes sending up sweet incense, we lay upon
our backs in the shade, at peace with all the
world. Only Dan looked gloomy, for upon the
bank not far away lay the de~d form of a spot-
an jackass, with the mark of a bullet in his

rain |

 

CHAPTER III.
A WOODMAN'S LOVE,

Ws always looked for a story from some one
when taking our noonday siesta, and something
in the whimsical face of ‘‘Old Fatty Brown
informed us that he could tell a story worth

hearing. I maintain that there is such a thing |
as ee ee ”—and such a one bad |

Fatty Brown. The twinkle in his gray eye, |
the twist in his comical mouth—all went to |
show that he had the happy faculty so essen-
tial in a backwoods camp. We pitcbed upon
him instanter, for this rare old man had found
& warm place in our hearts already. Who,
looking at his kindly face, could hep loving
him? Even Indian Pete unbent and was seen
to smile when they first met—a rare thing for
him to do.

“A story, boys?’ demanded Fatty, as he
thrust dextrously at bis lighted pipe with his
little finger, to crowd the tobacco into the bowl,
“ What makes you think the old man can tell a
Oe

“Never you mind that,” commanded Will

 

Beaton. “Brace up and spin us a yarn, old
man.

‘‘ Anything for a quiet life,” said Fatty, with
alow laugh, full of unctuous evjoyment. ‘1
reckon J’ll have to tell you about my first and
last love scrape, when I were a trifle younger
than f am now, It was in the kentry to the
south of the Shacagee woods that I fust drawed
my breath and uttered a war-whoop. I werea

| healthy baby from the very fust, and ain’t got

over it yet, nor I don’t reckon I ever will till
they dig me a grave somewhar, a leetle wider
than most men want. ‘I growed up in the
woods, and my playmates was young Injuns,
black bears, catamounts and painters! Grow-
ing up with such rough companions, it is not to
be wondered at that I was a rough and ready
sort of chap myself. Before I was twelve years
old I could hit a squirrel on the top of a pine
and mark down a deer ata hundred yards. Be-
fore I were twenty I could tell you the name of
every stream and lake in the Shadagee region;
knowed just whar the fish lay thickest, and
whar the deer came down to drink. I was cut
out for the woods, boys, now you mind what I
say. Fat as I am, 1 know that I am a good
guide, and P’ve Yarned my duties well,

“One day, when I was coming back from ths
lakes, I fell in with an old ‘ party’ by the name
of Fisher—a man that respected me as a rising
young guide, likely to make my mark in the

North Woods, You see, boys, we gauge a man

by what be can do with rod and rifle, out here
in the woods, and Old Man Fisher knew fhat I
had the cutting out of a man in me, But it
come on to storm, and the old man asked me to
come up to his cabin and stop over night, and
promised me a drink of whisky that had not
seen the light for five years, I don’t drink
much, boys, but when I do drink I like to have
it good. Whatdid you say ae had in the flask,
Mr. Seaton? Old Valley whisky! Now it just
strikes me that a drink of that particular fluid
would give my tongue an ile-iness which would
refresh me; hand it over here.”

‘Will passed over his flask and cup, and Fatty
Brown tock a drink which Dan said was “large
enough for a grown person.” For a moment
nothing was heard save the musical gurgle of
the liquid as it passed down his throat. Then
he returned the flask with a sigh of relief and
went on with his are ‘

“‘T liked Old Man Fisher mighty well, and he
had been hounding me for a long spell to visit
bis cabin, and I thought now would be as good
a time as any, so [turned my canoe up the lake
and headed for Cedar Point, where he lived.
‘We bad almost reached the point when I heard
a painter’s yell, the crack of a rifle, and then a
woman’s scream. Old Man Fisher turned white
as a ghost, and the fees he held just flew
through the water. He got ashore afore me
and ran over the bank, and I went after him,
but before I caught him I heard the painter's
spiteful yell, and v hen I got on the ground the
old man was lying on his back, and a big painter
was crouching for a spring at as neat a gal as
ever trod the airth. I got in between before he
ape with only a knife in my hand, and we
ocked in a close grapple. I got my hand in
that painter's bide about the neck. and went to

ona

 

   
 

og

 

 

   

The Chase of the Great White Siag and Camp and Canoe. 21

 

work, while the sharp claws were stripping me
into ribbons all the time, and I don’t know how
it would have come out; but just then a rifle
was put against the painter’s bead, a crack was
heard, and the big brute fell dead vpon me,
The gal had loaded her rifle and pitched-in to
help me just in time.

“They managed to get me to Old Man Fisher's

- eabin, where they laid me on a bed, and then I

forgot something, for I’d spilled a heap of blood
and was powerful weak. hen I come to my-
self the girl was nursing me, and Fisher had
managed to tie up my limbs in harbs that he’d
Parned how te use from the Injuns. When ]
see that sweet face bending over me Lf thought
of the angels, and wondered if they was like
her. I don’t like to think of her even now, for
it makesa fool of me. And yet, Vl say this:
if ever an angel lived on the airth, that angel
was Myra Fisher. Brown eyes, like a fawn;
a sweet little mouth, that seemed to be al-
ways laughing; and such tender, sweet ways,
et you couldn’t help loving her if you
tried.

“Vd saved her life, and she was as kind and
tender to me as if Thad been a gentleman, and
not a rough forester, with only my strength
and wooderaft to boast of. I knowed she never
could love me, and yet I was fool enough, in
the face of all this, to worship her. Don’t laugh,
boys; I want to keep friends with every man,
and the man that laughs at me now can’t be a
friend to me.

“‘ AsI got stronger, she used. to talk to me as
we sat under the vines about the cabin door,
and lure me on to tell about the adventures
had in the mountains and on the lakes. I think
she took a sort of pride in my strength, and the
battles l’d had; and sometimes I used to think
that she might love me for that; girls have
done it before now. I nursed the thought that
if I made myself better she might come to
love me in time, but it was not to be. I’ve

seen Oihello played, but it won’ work in real

life.
‘¢ Tust when I was able to take the field ag’in,
@ youngster came up from Albany, for a bunt,
I forgot to say that Myra had been in Albany
to school, stopping with an aunt she had there,
but it never camo into my mind that Seth
Birdsall came up into the woods on her account,
He was a handsome young fellow about my
own age, with a frank, open face—and I liked
him from the first. __

“T didn’t think then that he had come to
steal her from me, or I doubt I’d have hit him
in the face, as he sat in the canoe, looking at
me with shining eyes, It came upon me sud-
den like, for one day, when I was tramping
back from the woods, loaded down with game,
I came upon them, sitting as only lovers sit,
her golden head upon his shoulder, and her
waist encircled by his arm. They started up
as I came into the opening, and then Myra
said:

“¢* Its only Dave; he never would betray us,
for be loves me dearly.’

“ Only Dave! Only ‘Fatty’ Brown, you un-
derstand, a good fellow, who would give his life
for hers without reward, That was the only
idea with her, and it drove me wild.

   

 

“* Go home,’ I said, pointing in the direction
of the cabin. She came up to me, and put both
hands on my shoulders, and looked into my eyes.
Something she read there made her start and
shiver, for she had read my heart.

““«My poor Dave; my brave, true-hearted
boy. Idid not think of this, or I would have
told you long ago. Seth is to be my huscand in
afew weeks; did you not know it?

“There was a mist before my eyes, and when
I looked up she was gone, and only Seth Birdsall
was there, looking at me with a sad light in his

es. :

Mi ‘Dave, old boy,’ he said, coming up to me,
‘you must do me justice.’

“‘¢-You have stolen her from me,’ f hissed. ‘I
Joved her better than anything else on earth,
and you have core torobme. Will you fight
for her? I will?

“Stop! he said, sternly. ‘You pride your-.
self on your justice, and say that you would do
wrong to no man, Dave?

“Yes; justice before all.’

““¢Then listen to me: before you ever knew
that she lived, Myra Fisher had promised to be
my wife. Can you say that I have wronged
you now?

“Tt was a hard fight, boys, but the good in
my heart was stronger than the evil. I shook
hands with him, and went away, but I told him
that if he ever did her wrong, I would kill him,
if I followed him to the end of the airth. No
need of that, boys, for I think they love each
other better now than when I parted from
them. And, last ee Iwas their guidein a
trip through the Jakes, and her son—named
after me, boys—is a noble young man as old as
I was when I loved her. My pipe is out and the
story isdone, Get your traps and let us be on
the march.”

“Did you ever marry?” I asked.

“Marry; I have married the woods and the
waters, and I will keep my marriage vow,” he
answered. 3

No man laughed, for we knew that the old
man had been faithful tothe ghost of his van-
ished hope.

 

CHAPTER IV.
DOWN THE RAPIDS.

As we ascended the stream it grew more
rapid, a mountain torrent, roaring down be-
tween precipitous banks, with many beautiful
cascades, at the foot of which the trout lay in
myriads, flecking the water with their rises.
Now you could catch a glimpse of gleamin
sides and golden spots, and then the beautifu
fish was gone, far down into the whirpool at
the base of the cascade, At this point some
heathen had rigged a contrivance, which was
awfully destructive, the sight of which roused
the ire of that stickler for fair lay in fishing,
Fatty Brown, The strength which is given to
the trout is enormous, and every moment we
would see one of them dart up the rushing body
of water, only to be hurled back into the pool
below. Others, more fortunate, mana; to
make the ascent, and with a flourish and leap,
would dart up the stream to seek new pasture: -

ounds, far above. Some of the largest, utter-
E exhausted, dropped through the sheet of
  

 

22

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe,

 

water into open boxes, from which they never minded to bore a hole plum farough you, and
got out, until the Indians who set the traps | take the chances; hump along, now!”

came to take them up

The two villains saw that it would not be

“Now, look at that!” roared Fatty Brown, | easy to catch Fatty napping, and moved on

*T allowed an Injun was mean, but he arnt
that cussidness frcm white men.
Tve sworn a big swear to lick the fust Injun I
see setting a trap like that, and Pll keep my
word.”

“S pose it ain’t an Injun?” said a gruff voice.
“S’pose I set them traps, Fatty Brown; what
are you going to do about it?”

Fatty whirled on his heel quickly, and faced
an ugly-looking white man of muscular build,
who was crossing the stream ona tree, which,
either by accident or design, had fallen in such
a way as to form a bridge. He carried a
rifle and bowie and seemed an ugly customer to
manage.

“J ain’t any way partic’lar, you lousy trap-
thief!” growled Fatty. ‘‘ Now see here; where
are my traps that you stole up here in the King-
dom last February ?”

“Who says 1 stole your traps?” replied. the
other, fiercely. ‘‘Come over here, Ned; thar
is going to be a b’ar-fight.”

“The man he called, who was on the other
side of the stream, crossed at once. A glance
at his face was enough to show us that they
were “‘ shepherds both,” and quiet ’Than peeled
off his coat. I acted the part of referee and
bottle-holder—a part which suited me beter
than that chosen by ’Than. Lyme, Indian
Pete and Will were away up-stream, and Dan
wus perched on a log, just beyond the rapid,
* still ”-fishing.

“ Wait half a jiff,” ordered Fatty Brown,
“before any of you other chaps take a hand in
this game. I say that this carroty-headed son
of a skunk, Tom Carson, stole my traps up in
the Kingdom, last February. We denies it,
and I’m going tolick him in a fair fist fight,
unless he wants to shoot.”

“Then I don’t need to pile in,” said the man
called Ned, wuo did not like the appearance of
’Than’s shoulders when he came to sirip.

“Don’t be bashful, stranger,” suggested
"Than. ‘I’ve not the least doubt, from your
general appearance, that you would steal traps
—or any thing else that came in your way.”

Fatty Brown Jaughed in a shrill and highly
offensive way, and there was a sudden rush on
the part of the strangers. Then, for the first
time, I saw an exhibition of the ‘ manly art,”
for both Fatty Brown and ’Than Wright were
trained athletes, and knew how to use their
fists. In less than five minutes, when the ref-
eree called ‘‘time,” neither of the strangers
were able to respond, and they went off down-
stream, breathing out threatenings and slaugh-
ter. Fatty, who had hardly drawn a quick
breath, looked after them with his usual low
laugh as be drew back the lock of his rifle.
Just as the two men reached the next bend in
the river, Tom Carson whirled suddenly, cock-
ing his rifle as he wheeled: But, to his utter

surprise, he was looking a.rectly into the muz-
gle of Fatty Brown’s rifle, which that worteay
had brought toshis shoulder just in time.

“Go on,

igen!” roared Brown, ‘I’m

Never mind; |

 

quickly, and were soon lost to sight.

Scarcely had they gone when we were
aroused by a wild shout on the river above, the
voice of Printer Dan in agony! Scramblizg up
the rocks as quickly as possible we saw a sight
which would have roused laughter in the ribs
of death, notwithstanding the danger of the un-
fortunate typo. Inthe middle ot the stream,
coming down with all the power of the current,
was a sort of raft of driftwood, and, in the
center of this, making frantic gestures and
shouting for help at the utmost stretch of his
lungs, we saw Dan, Looking up the stream the
heads of the others of our party came bobbing
over the rocks, for they had heard the cries,
and hastened Sack to ascertain the cause. 1
always knew that Dan had good lungs, but
never thought them capabie of bearing the
strain to which he now subjected them. The
rocks around echoed, the old trees bent as his
sonorous voice pealed through them. With an
unearthly shout. of laughter, Fatty Brown
dropped on the stones, while the raft, bearing
Cesar and his fortunes, came rushing down
through mid-current, whirling about wherever
the tide chose to carry it. Kneeling in the
center of the raft, holding his broken rod in
one hand and clinging to a projecting knot
with ‘the other, while his wild eyes searched
shore and sky for some chance of human aid,
and his voice echoed far and wide \thrcugh the

‘surrounding hills, was the unfortunate Dan:

‘‘With whoop and shout and loud halloo,
No rest Benvoirlich’s echoes knew!”

Never was quotation from the poets more
apropos; and yet, when I made it later, Dan
did not think if had any point, and even offered
to ‘‘lick” me, for the moderate compensation
of a cent! I did not encourage him. a

How had Dan Dera himself in this ridicu-
lous situation? It is hard to conceive of any
way in which he could have accomplished it,
and yet here he was. When IJ saw him last he
was seated complacently on the log which
formed a part of this raft, fishing with angle-
worms—villainous employment for aman, upon
a stream where a fly could be easily used. But
Dan said: he “was not going to lame Ais arm
throwing a fly, when he could sit in the shade
and snake out all the big fish he wanted, and
have just as much fun. Besides, every time he
threw, the ashes of bis pipe got in his eye—and
he could not stand it.” The log lay directly
under a branching tree, which cast a pleasant
shade upon him, and here he sat at ease, and,
while we scattered along the stream, he way
‘“‘ yanking ” trout from beneath the log in a re-
markably rapid manner. Absorbed in this, he
forgot the unstable nature of the support upon
which his noble form reclined, and sat like a
statue, sucking at his pipe, only uftering a shout
of triumph when a larger trout than usual re-
luctantly left his watery home.

But fate was against him in the end, as it
always was, A big fish seized the bait and ran
under the log, snapping the rod in the second

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

wetneibishcinniaines

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. 23

 

joint and hopelessly entangling the line about a
root, w! ich was imbedded in the soil. Strip-
ping his sleeve to the shoulder, Dan reached
down, and grabbing this root, he dragged it out
of the mud by the effort of all his strength.
His success was fatal, for by that root the raft
was anchored near the shure, and its only sup-
port being rudely torn away, the raft whirled
suddenly out into the current, and went career-
ing down the stream, bearing Dan upon it.

A wild shout of terror was heard—the yell
which aroused us after the battle below the
falls, and we were witnesses of Dan’s unhappy
fate. On he came, holding out beseeching
hands and cursing bis unlucky fortune. He
could not swim, and the rapids roared below;
but at this moment Indian Pete came down on
a run, and rushed into the water below the
falls, where he could just keep his feet in the
rush of the rapid current. Dan, white as the
foam of the waves, bad wafted us a parting
benediction of a peculiar kind, and dropping on
all-fours, waited for the shcck. It came; the
heavy log which formed the middle support of
the raft struck a stone in the center of the
channel, and instantly the raft separated and
the unfortunate printer went rolling over and
over, bumping his bony angles against the
stones, and clutching madly at vacancy, in his
wild career. But Indian Pete was ready, and
as this belpless waif came hurrying on, he
seized him, and by the effort of his skill and
address, managed to get him ashore. For the
next ten minutes Dan was busy in spitting out
splinters of teeth, bits of moss, pine cones and
small pebbles, which he had imbibed with the
water of the river. Then he rose like a tower
and looked at us, while we choked down the in-
sane desire to laugh!

“I know you, every cussed one of you; I
can read you like a book; but, look here! The
first one that laughs, or even smiles, gets his
throat cut from ear to ear!

We did not: laugh then, but the time came
when Dan was reminded of his unlucky voyage.

 

CHAPTER V. ~ ct

IN AN INDIAN LODGE—BIG FISH

THAT afternoon we passed out of the river
and reached the shore of the Jake, which spread
out “before us in placid beauty under the rays
of the rapidly declining sun, Here was an In-
dian settlement, the home of Indian Pete, who
led us at once to his lodge—a rather preten-
tious structure—for Indian Pete was in high
authority among his friends, and. had made
himself.comparatively rich by guiding parties
through the wilderness,

“*T don’t know what that skunk Pete wanted
to bring us here for,” grumbled Fatty. ‘You
ea? sleep in his lodge, and he oughi to know

“Why not?”

‘Meas! And if that ain} enough, bed-bugs;
and if that won’t skeer you, ticks—the meanest
varmint ever created without a purpose. [Il
cree the grass down by the lake-shore my-
self.

“He wants to have everything hisown way,”
Muttered Dan, who had not forgotten that the
old man laughed at him when he was the prey

 

of the raging flood. ‘Ym going to stay in the
cabin, and if you are any man you'll stay too.”

So we two went to Indian Pete’s lodge, and
our Indian guide introduced us without cere-
mony, by a single wave of his hand, to the en-
tire party in his lodge—which was not a small _
one by any means. There was his wife, half a
dozen brats, from three to fifteen years of age
—and. two or three girls—who were just bud-
ding into womanhood; rather pretty, but with
a lack of réserve in their manner of greeting
strangers which made Dan blush. A strong
perfume, of a quality differing somewhat from
the extracts of Lubin, permeated the atmo-
sphere. Imagine a close room, with an earthen -

oor, the air tainted by the breathing of at
least. a dozen persons, and add to this a smell of
spoiled meat and a variety of other unpleasant
odors, and you have an idea of our situation.
But Dan was obdurate, and would not confess,
by backing out, that he was in the wrong.

I pictured to myself the manner in which
Fatty, Lyme, "Than and Will would pass the
night. I fancied I saw them spreading their
blankets on the soft moss, and lying back at
ease under the shelter of the pines, drinking in
their fragrance as the smoke from their pipes
ascended! I banned Dan with the curse of the
unhappy, and sat down on the greasy bear-skin
presented to me by Indian Pete. Hardly had I
seated myself when I rose again, as Dan said
‘‘ Simultaneously—as one man—who sits down
on a chestnut burr!” What was the cause of
my sudden indisposition to sitting down? A
“tick,” my readers, which had fastened on my
flesh with venomous force. Did you ever see a
“ tick,” reader, and if Se have had that pleas-
ure, did you ever feel one? Picture to your-
self a magnified louse, with a head like a
shovel, which he can force into the cuticle ot
the person he attacks with a rapidity which is
beyond conception, and you have some idea of
the “tick.”

“You burn your fingers in fire,” said Indias
Pete. ‘‘ Tick bite all ’ee same.”

And he was right, too. And then, how pleas-
ant to seize that tick, and pull away until the
head separates from the body, leaving the for-
mer itching and smarting under the skin. Dan
was laughing at me when he got a nip, and bis
qos face elongated instanter. It was his

st introduction to a tick, and he did not like
it in the least. An hour of agony was passed
in beating off the myriads of fleas which assailed
us, and we began to feel sleepy. But, much to
the horror of bashful Dan—there is now and
then such an anomaly as a bashful printer—the
family made no sign of retiring, or giving us a -
chance to do likewise.

“See here!” whispered Dan; “ain’t them
cussed girls going outside while I get into my
blanket? I want to take off my—my—my
pants! There isa tick inside my clothes some-
where, and I want to get him.”

“Never mind, Dan,” I said, soothingly. ‘It’s
a trifle annoyiig, I will allow, but you must
get over this foolish basbfulness. here de

ou want those girls to go, you lematic? There
isn’t any other room,”

“Thunder! Oh, Lord! There’s smother one
nipped me by the leg. Say, Sers> ‘ee ticks

 
  

24

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

  

—

 

are pofson up here, ain’t they? That one bit
like a. dog.”

Tne fair sirens had mercy upon Yan at last,
and with much giggling and coy glances they
retired, and Dan dova into his blanket with

frantic haste, and, long after all had retired, I |

heard him scratching and tearing about in his
blanket, cursing the insect kingdom up hill and
down dale. As for myself, I was too busy to
pay much attention to him, and after an hour

of agony, I caught at my blanket and I sneaked |

out of the lodge to a sbady place near the lake
shore; where, after I had dug the heads of three
or four ticks out of my person with a penknife,
I lay down and slept peacefully until morning;
when, as I walked up to the lodge, I found Dan
still wrapped in his blanket, while the entire

family, including the two girls, were seated |

calmly looking at him.

“You sneaked out, blame you!” hissed Dan.
“Come; you drive out them girls. How do
you expect me to get up when I ain’t got a
cussed thing on me?”

“You are too modest, Dan,” Isaid. ‘How
aro you off for ticks?”

“*T don’t reckon I’ve got more than a hun-
dred in my hide now, Get them girls out as
quick as you can, for I’m about dead.”

Having some feelings of compassion for the
unhappy Dan, I hinted to the aboriginals that
their_room was better than their company, and
they went away, wondering at the modesty of
that ‘‘ white fellow,” as their experience thus
far had not been with the modest kind. I stood

uard at the door, while Dan, with many curses

oth loud and deep, dug the ticks out of various
parts of bis anatomy with a penknife, at the
same time launching bitter anathemas at my

uilty head, for ‘“‘ sneaking.” It hurt bis tender

eelings to think that I had cleared out, and left
him alone to suffer.

“ And Icouldn’t get out, you knew,” he con-
tinued, in a deeply injured tone. ‘Them girls
came in and lay down on the floor close to me,
and how was I to: get out without tumbling
over some of the family? And then that big
‘War Whoop,’ Pete, would get up and scalp
me; I know he would, for I saw blood in his
eye.

All the time he was grumbling, his penknife
was busy, and after an hour of torture, he
dressed and went out. Fatty Brown never
said a word, but just looked at him and grinned,
and Dan knew that he understood the situation
just as well as if it had been proclaimed from
the mountain-tops. :

“Say, Dan,” said the old man, after a pause,
“the next time I tell you that it is better to
sleep on the grass than in an Indian lodge,
‘you'll take my advico, won’t you?”

“T think it is time we got out of this,” re-
pet Dan, gloomily.. ‘I don’t like it ’round

ere, anyhow.”

We got out the canoes quietly, and prepared
toembark. We had three canoes, the first con-
taining Indian Peto, "Than and myself; the
second, Lyme, Dan and Fatty Brown; and the
third, Will Seaton, Indian Pete’s son—called
Pete, Jr., by fishermen—and our traps. Pete,

Jr., was a lively young Indian, about nineteen
years of age, and ho certainly showed himself a

skillful canoeman, and wom our hearts by his
| uniform good-nature.

| On we went up the beautiful lake, past isl-
| ands lorded down with the autumn verdure
| and filling the air with fragrance. After the
first ticklish feeling incident to canoe traveling
for the first time in a year, we gave ourselves
up to the beauty of the scenery.

Gazing down into the pellucid lake, we saw
great fish lying on the shining sand below, just
moving their fins in a waving, gentle way, as
if enjoying themselves to the utmost. Sud-
denly a sound struck my ear which was music
to me—tha singing of a ‘‘spoon” in the water,

_and I saw Will Seaton leaning over the stern
of his canoe, playing out line with a skillful
hand. Oh, how I blamed my unlucky brain
because I had forgotton that we might have a
chance to “troll,” and’ my tackle was in the
canoe which was to follow us from the village,
bringing our heaviest traps; and there was
Will Seaton, with a smile of delight upon his
face, letting out foot after foot of the line,
knowing by the tremulous vibration that the
spoon worked freely. We saw the canoe veer
out a little from our course and head inshore,
My eyés were fixed on Will, and I saw him
start up to his knees, the line straightened sud-
denly, there was a rush out of the clear depths,
and a great lake trout came up out of the water,
with outspread fins and open gills, shaking his
head like a dog over a bone. The temptation
.of the spoon had been too much for him—and
as he had swallowed the tempting morsel, ho
was doomed, if the tackle held. Will Seaton
played him skillfully, and, after five minutes
of glorious struggle, the great fish was dragged
into the boat, while the victorious whoop of
Will Seaton made the forest ring. 5

“Good bleckfuss—good dinner,” said Indian
Pete, with a chuckle, ‘*Tly* ’em again, cap-

_pen; you good fishee,”

And to our utter disgust Will had glorious
sport for ten miles, and when we went into
camp, he brought in a load of fish which was
enough to tempt an anchorite, And that we
yielded easily to temptation, our prowess at
dinner showed, :

 

CHAPTER V1.
ROBBERS — THROTILED BY A
SNAKE.

TH camp chosen by Pete was a beautiful
one, for, sleepy and indolent as he seemed, the
Indian was a keen admirer of nature in all her
beautiful forms, It was a patch of green
meadow, perhaps a hundred yards in circum-
ference, with a half-circle of great forest trees
at the back, and the beautiful lake in front,
gleaming: like molten silver, as the sun went
down. it was so situated that the sun at its
meridian could not pierce the foliage of the

reat trees at the back, and when tho heat of
is day was past, the golden glory of the orb of
day could not make the camp other than

léasant. . Fatty Brown, who loved the mistress

e had wedded, Nature, drew a long, deep

THE WINGED

 

* The northern Indians generally pronounce the
yp ” like “ 1,2:

 

 

 
 

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. 25

— of enjoyment as his feet touched the
sward.

“You know your business, old man,” he said
to the Indian. ‘‘If you had asked me which
canip I liked best, out of all the beauties on this
lake, I should have said ‘ Emerald Point.’ Boys,
how Go you like it?”

“Tt is beautiful,” was the verdict of all; and,
while the guides built up the fire, and pre-
pared a meal, we lay back on the grass in
calm enjoyment, only alloyed by the thought
that Will Seaton had beaten us by his fore-
thought in taking a trolling-line and spoon in
his canoe. But then, Will always thought of
these things, and we were apt to be forgetful.
Looking upward, as I lay upon the grass, I saw
two graceful forms floating in the air above
the lake; two forms which I[ had seen too often
on the Saranac and the ‘‘Shadagee” lakes to
mistake, the ‘Fishing Hawk.” Apparently
suspended in the clear blue ether, floating in
graceful circles far above the water, they hung
over the glittering lake, and no one would have
suspected from their appearance that they were
watching for their prey. Lyme had never
seen a fishing-hawk ut work, and I called to
bim to Jook. There was no change in the alti-
tude of the birds, and we watched them keenly.
Directly after, one of them was seen to pause
in his flight, remain stationary for a moment,
and then, closing ‘his broad wings, descend like
the lightning’s flash into the water! A moment
more, and he was gone, and before the circles
bad ceased to spread upon the glassy surface
where he went down, the graceful head again
appeared, and he rose into the air, flying
heavily, so heavily that we could see he bore a
large trout in his talons. A shrill, joyous
scream from his mate was echoed by our shout,
and the next moment she too dashed down into
the clear lake, only to appear with a trout
struggling in her grasp, and the two rose into
the air together, seeming to take delight in
their power.

But a scream more wild and shrill than that
of the fishing-hawk now broke upon our ears,
and we saw a great bird, which none of us had
before noticed, perched upon a dead tree not
far away. The moment the second hawk rose
from the water, this bird, with its victorious
scream, launched itself into the air. We saw
the white crest, the curved beak, and the
extended wings of that freebooter of the air, the
bald eagle! He is on the track of the fish-
hawk; the robber is to be robbed. For, like
many of the human race, the bald eagle
lives by the labors of others. Too indolent
to labor for himself, he stands ready to wring
from others the work of their hands. Up, up,
in grand spiral curves, mounting bigher and
higher, went tho hawks, while the eagle, beating
the air with his great wings, mounts after
them. The hawks seem to: hold a consultation,
and then one flies to the east and the other to
the west. They know well that the robber
below will not rest until he has torn from them
the fruit of their toil, and they bope by

‘separating to enable one or the other to escape,

But the gagie, sending out his challenge cry
with redoubled fury, darts after the male
hawk, while » dark spot, which until now.

 

unseen by us, had hung suspended in the air far
above the lake, began to fall rapidly —darting
toward the female hawk! It is the mate of the
robber, as fierce and rapacious as he. No
robber knight of other days ever darted on
his prey more savagely than the eagles on the
hawks, or held that prey in more profound
contempt. The hawks seem to realize that all
is lost, and letting drop the fish, they dart away
in more rapid flight. The broad wings again
beat the air, the falling fish are caught long
before they reach the water, and the robbers
fly away, victorious, to their nest in the face of
the cliff, far to the north. And there, sailing
above the water, intent on other prey, we see
the two hawks. They have returned to replace
their loss by the sacrifice of other victims.

“That was a strange sight, boys,” said Fatt
Brown; “‘and yet, when you come to think it
over, the same things are being done in the
world, every day. Man robs his fellow-man,
and that man is in turn robbed by another,
more powerful than he, We are either fish,
hawk, or eagle, after all!”

‘ E es are something of a moralist, old man,”
said, :

“A man can’t live in the woods as much as
I do, and not learn something every day. Na-
ture is a great teacher, if we will only listen to
her words, lve seen her in many forms, and
I can trust Nature when I can not trust man.”

“Yet there are hurricanes; the lightning-
bolt strikes us down; the waves overwhelm us;
the earthquake casts down our cities; the vob»
cano does its deadly work.”

“There is no convulsion of nature without
its warning,” replied the guide. ‘‘ And in this
respect, Nature is better than man, for she
gives fair warning of approaching danger,
She—” 3

“Yah!” screamed Dan. ‘I’m bit; I’m poi-
soned. Take him off—ugh!”

His voice ceased suddenly, and we saw the
unhappy man rolling on the earth, apparentl
in the agonies of death. A dark body, as thick
asa man’s wrist, encircled his throat, and at
this dark body he clutched with nerveless fin-

ers, apparently striving to free his throat.

@ saw a small, pointed serpent-head elevated,
and heard a warning hiss, Fatty Brown
sprung to his feet, and shouted to Indian Pete,
and the two hurled themselves upon the pros-
trate form of Printer Dan. While two of us
held him down—I was not one of the two—
the guide placed his sharp bowie against the
black band about Dan’s throat. Blood spurted
out, and, lifting Dan’s head, Brown unwound
the loathsome black body, and hurled it away.
For five minutes Dan lay upon the sward
breathing with difficulty—for he had suffere
terribly. Then he sat up and made a feeble
effort to spit, and we knew that he would gt
better.

“ Are rou bitten, Dan?’ I said, looking
askance at the black parts of the serpent, ex-
tended on the sward. ‘‘Ugh! look at the
black thief.”

“No—he ain’t bitten,” said Fatty Brown,
“and if he was, I’d stand the racket. I can
cure any svake-bite, if I have the time—and
plenty of whisky. A man chuck full of whisky —

 
ea ee FSi ea

   

£3

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

gan stand a snake-bite with perfect impunity.
ow the very deuce did he get around your
neck, Dan?”

Dan shook his head, and sat up to look at |

the snake. “It was what is popularly known
as the ‘‘black” snake, one of the most dan-
gerous of the non-poisonous sort. He is a con-
strictor of great power, and, in proportion to
his size, has greater power than the boa. This
specimen was over eight feet in length, and
was as thick as a man’s wrist, one of the
largest kind. They are very pugnacious, and
do not hesitate to attack man or beast, with
or without provocation, This one bad crept
up and fastened on Dan’s neck ou’; of sheer
malice.

“Tt seems as if every thing ent dead
pgainst me,” said Dan, ‘I can’t stand this
much longer, boys, and I wish I c iuld have a
fest; I must have it, or I put bach to civiliza-
won, Now what set that snake io pitch into
me

“Nothing but pure cussedness,’ said Brown,
as he laid the parts of the snake together to
measure them. ‘‘It’s mighty lucky we was
here, or you were a gone goose—I warn you.
Your tongue began to stick out of your mouth.

Hight feet, six inches; that’s a-big ’un! An- |

chor your four bones on the grass again, and
I'll tell you a little adventure I had with snakes
of.another sort, up in the mountains.”

We lighted our pipes, Dan propped his back
against a stone, took a mighty drink, and the
guide began his yarn.

CHAPTER VII.
CHARMING A RATTTLESNAKE,

“Ip was thirty years ago, I think, and I was
eut with a party in the wilds of Pennsylvania.
It was wild in those days, for the mountains of
the Keystone State were rough and rugged
enough to make little inducement for a man to
settle there for good. But, to make up for the
lack of humans, there was what Jim Bent calis
an ‘“‘overplush” of b’ars, catamounts and such
cattle—just the kind of inhabitants to suit an
old hunter. And snakes! Lord love your hearts
alive, boys; the woods and mountains were just
boiling over with them, and it was a common
thing for the party to kill two or three big rat-
tlesnakes ina day. But there is one thing about

_ a rattlesnake that is in his favor. He gives you
warning before he strikes.

‘We camped on the mountain side that night,
after a long day’s bunt, and the boys were tired
out; so, affer supper, when we had built up a
fire—for the nights were chilly in that season
of the year—the rest laid down ifi their blan-
kets and left me to ie camp. You see I was
more used to the rough life than the rest, and
wasn’t near so tirod. It wasn’t such a place as
this, boys, but a rough country, with nothing
about but croppings of ledges, stunted pines,
scrub-oak and such like—the kind you always
see in a rough country like that. I lighted my

ipe, for I’ve learned to make a companion of
t in my lonely hours. I ain’t got much pa-
tience with the kind of critters that get up a
row about tobacco, and tel! how it shortens a
man’s life. Maybe it’s so; but I don’t think it,
end no man can pound it into me. I raked up

 

the fire, put on some more fat pine, which soon
made a roaring blaze, and began to enjoy my-
| self. I like to sit in camp in the night, when
the fire.is hot, and watch the boys asleep, for
| I’ve been a kind of protector to them ever since
Iwas a kid.

“The man nearest to me was a youngster
from the town, studying for a minister, that
bad wore himself out with hard work, and
wanted a few weeks of this rough mountain life
|to set him up again. His naine was James
| Martin, and he was just the sort of youngster
' I cotton to wherever I meet them. Maybe my
| religion isn’t orthodox, but it is the religion
| that teaches me this: all men are brothers, the
| strong should help the weak, and the rich have
' mercy on the poor! If any man can show me
a better religion than that, I want an introdue-
tion to him. And James Martin was one of
those simple-hearted m-n that only have ove
word in their creed:—love. He made our camp
the better for his being in it, and we didn’t
hear a rough or profane word from any of the
fellows, because they could not stand the re-
proachful look in his eyes when he heard such
words, And some of the boys-swore by note
too, but they put the snaffle on when James
was by.

“‘T was looking at him as he lay asleep, and
thinking what a calm and peaceful face he had,
and bow I-would try to set him up and make
him strong, when I saw something coiled up on
the blanket across bis breast that made me start
and shiver, as if ice had been poured into my
veins. It was a rattlesnake, looking at him

 

the shiny ring on Lyme’s finger; a diamond, I
reckon. I saw something more: James Martin
was awake, and his eyes were fixed upon the
snake in a helpless, bewildered way, as if he
had not the power to move hand or foot, It
was well forhim that he did not have that
power, for the first move he made these fangs
would be buried in his flesh, and ¥ didn’t know
so much about snake-bites as I do now, and
feared them more, because I didn’t know the
antidote. I whispered so that he could hear me;

‘“¢*For Heaven’s sake don’t move; keep still,
if you can!”

“He was a Christian, and death was not so
terrible to him as some men. Dan knows how
it feels to be in the power of a serpent—don’t
you, old man?”

“Ugh; don’t talk of it, pleaded Dan. “T
can’t bear to think of it.”

“Your black snake was dangerous, but not
poisonous, and I was wild with fear as [ looked
at the snake. He raised his head a little higher
when I whispered, and I expected to hear the

power enough over his nerves not to move @
muscle. I didn’t know what to do, any more
than the dead. My rifle was within reach,

leaning against a tree, and I was a. gvod shot,
but you all know that a man is not safe to hit
so small a thing as the head of a snake, by the
flickering light of a camp-fire, specially if the
snake lays on the breast of a man you love
right wot Once or twice I reached for the
rifle, but I couldn’t bring myself to use it ex-

 

with erected head, and eyes that glittered like |

sound of the rattles, which comes before the”,
blow. But I kept still, and young Martin had '

 

 

 

 
 

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe. 27

 

cept as a last desperate resort. It was awful
to sit there and wait, helpless and in agony,
waiting for something—I knew not what. I
had almost made up my mind to take the
chances on the rifle, but I knew that Martin
was doomed if I missed, for the snake would
lay the racket to him, and bile. My hand was
on the rifle, and I was drawing it toward me
slowly, when I thought of something which
stopped my hand me I picked up my fiddle,
which lay upon the ground at the foot of the
tree. I liad heard somewhere that the snake
loves music, and will follow whenever he hears
it. Never heard me fiddle, any of you? Well,
boys, if there is anything I can do—and do
well—it is to scrape the ogee Behe I’ve got
one in my kit, and pretty soon I'll let you bear
it, for the old man is a little proud of the way
he slings his bow.

“I didn’t half believe that the charm would
work, but Imade up my mind to try it once,
and see what there was in the story. It might
be true, and if it was, I might save a life; sol
crept away a little, sat down on the ground
with a good-sized club handy, set the old Cre-
mona to my shoulder—and began to play!

“Tt’s no use to talk, but the moment my
bow touched the strings, I forgot everything
except the music. It wasn’t a loud, snappy,
screeching tune, such as some players wring
out of a violin; but a sweet, tender piece, one
of the best I played. My fiddle was in good
trim, and if I ever played in my life, I played
that night.

“Not one of the boys waked, and it was
lucky for poor Martin that they did not, for
they would have been sure to make a stir, and
scare the snake. I had not pages three bars,
when the rattlesnake raised his head, and
seemed to look everywhere to see where the
music came from. could see the diamond
eyes glitter in the light of the fire, as the sweet
music went on, and my heart beat wildly, for
I began; to think that there was some truth in
the storv I had heard from the Indians.

‘““Would he come away from Martin, and
follow the music?

“ At first it seemed as if he would, for he
pescly. uncoiled himself, and raised his head

igher to look; but after that, he coiled himself
up again, and laid his head down close to Mar-
tin’s face. Now that the glittering eyes were
not looking into his, the charm had lost its
wer, and the youngster was fully awake to
is danger, and the sweat was running off him
like water, It took pluck to lay still, but he
did it, and I kept on playing.

“ Again the snake raised his head, and seemed
to listen, and then, to my great delight, he
uncoiled himself and slid slowly off the blanket
and came toward me. I was wild now, an
played ‘for keeps.’ Every note was perfect,

‘or I thought that if he liked music, he ought to
have it good. He only went a little way, and
then stopped close to Jim Bent, and I didn’t
dare to rove yet, but played on as if my life
depended on it. Now the snake moved again,
and I saw the glittering eyes looking into mine,
not six feet away. Then iI dropped the fiddle,
end the way I pared on that slimy villain with
the club was a to snekes,,and a lesson to

 

this one in particular. And if you will believe
it, when the boys jumped up, half a dozen
snakes, which had been enticed out of the rocks
by the music, put for their holes when they
heard the noises. The music had saved James
Martin’s life, and he loves a fiddle to this day.
He’s got the rattle of the snake—fourteen
rings in it besides the button—and he says he'll
keep it while he lives. And that’s my snakes
story, lads. Now for a little music, and then—
blankets,”

And, searching for his violin, the guide played
as I have seldom heard another man, and we
gat entranced while the sweet music echoed
across the silent lake. And after we were in
our blankets, he sat there still, his pipe in his
mouth, and played low, tender tunes, which
lulled us, one by one, into sweet repose—under
the bending trees,

CHAPTER VIII
THE EAGLE’S NEST.

Dan, in his own natural infirmity, was al-
ways able to bring grief enough upon his head;
but, when aided and abetted by Lyme Dewitt,
he was capable of far greater foolishness.
Lyme was always open to persuasion; any en-
terprise, which at the first blush seemed des-
perate and rash, changed as Dan's golden tongue
talked about it, and oblivious to the fact that
he had barely escaped with his life the night be-
fore, and that his first lonely hunt had ne re-
sulted well in a financial point of view, he now
contemplated greater deeds, and “looked for
new worlds to conquer. Ever since we had
watched the encounter of the eagle and fish-
hawk, he had been bothering Fatty Brown with
questions about eagles and their habits, and the
old man had answered his questions, in the
kind way natural to him.

For some days we hunted and fished about
the banks of the lake, bringing in noble spoils
and waiting for the time when, by hunters
law, deer would be in season, We had noble
vai with partridge, grouse, foxes and the

enizens of the lakes and streams. One day,
as our canoes lay in a little sheltered bay,
at the mouth of a nameless creek, and we
were snapping the trout out of their watery

ds at a great rate, our old ide saw the
same pair of eagles which we had noticed a few
days before, hovering over our heads, their
broad wings beating the air slowly, as they
floated lazily through the clear ether. A mo-
ment more, and the female bird stooped, and
alighted half-way up the face of a bold cliff,
which rose to a hight of two hundred and fifty
feet above the water. The face of the cliff was
broken by irregular shelves here and there,
which lovked like seams upon its face, from the ,
place where we sat.

“They nest up there,” said Brown, ‘Il
bet any man a new bowie that there is a bi
nest_on that ledge, and if I wasn’t so old dual
fat I'd have the young birds, too. I used to,
have an eagle, and he lived ten years, and was
the cunningest old chap you ever see. I’d like
to train another ifI only had the Chance.”

Nothing more was said, but I noticed an ea

er look upon Dan’s face, and he again began

talk about eagles and their habits. We

 
 

28

 

The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

went back to camp with half a boat-load of | and I’m mighty glad they are out of the way.
noble trout and feasted royally; but, Dan was _ Let’s make the rope fast.

not easy, and could talk of nothing except ea-
gles. Even after Fatty got out his violin and
was playing his sweetest airs, this abandoned
miscreant would interrupt him to ask if eagles

were very ugly, when any one attempted to.

rob their nests.

“You try iton once!” was the suggestive
reply of the old guide. ‘I’ve known of such
a thing as their killing a man who was trying
torob them. Anyway, I'd as soon be kicked
by a mule as have an eagle get a fair crack at
me. And,see here: when I get out my fiddle
and begin to play, I don’t want no foolishness,
nor I won’t stand it, either. You shut up,
Dan.”

“Oh, go away, Dan!” was the universal cho-
rus. ‘‘ Don’t force us to put youin the water.
Try that piece over again, Brown.”

o Fatty commenced again, and never man
handled a bow to compare with him, We had
lanned an excursion to the north shore of the
jake, where the ducks were said to congregate
at this season, and the ‘‘ butter-balls ” were just
woming on. We went to our blankets early,
and after a good night’s rest and a hearty
breakfast, prepared for business, when, to our
surprise, neither Dan nor Lyme wanted to go.
Persuasion was of no use whatever. They
would not go.

“You two are up to some deviltry, my boys,”
said Fatty. ‘LI -don’t know whai it is, and I
reckon you won't tell me, but I will say this:
you don’t know the ways of the woods as well
as I do, and you’d do better to stick by the
prices. Will you come up the lake and bunt

utter-balls? There’s ‘canvas-backs,’ too; and
bleck duck—only think what you are losing,”

* Pm too tired,” said Dan, yawning. *‘ You'd
better let us alone, you old dignitary; come,
eu et eiv ge Lavuiol™ Gh ded F

ill you go, Lyme?” pleaded Fatty.

“T can’t leave Dan,” replied Lyme.
take care of ourselves, old man.”

“ We'll bury you decently when we come
back,” said Brown. ‘‘Come along, boys; it’s
no use talking to them.”

We got the fowling-pieces into the canoes, and
then Pete, Jr., offered to stay with them, but
his services were declined in the most pointed
manner. We were hardly well away from the
point, when we saw them making active pre-
parations for departure, bent upon some expe-
dition which had its origin in the fertile brain
of Printer Dan.

Their preparations were simple, and consisted
in getting out a coil of rope which Lyme slung
over his sboulder, an ax which Dan carried, and
a pair of tree-climbers. Sticking to the shore
of the lake closely, so as not to lose their way,
Dan led along the shore toward the cliff where
they had seen the eagle’s nest, Half an hour
later the two were perched upon the top of the
cliff, watching the flight of the royal birds,
sailing above them. At length, seeming satis-
fled that all was right, the pair took flight and
were soon mere bluck specks in the distance.

‘Now is our tinie,” said Dan. ‘That blamed
Fatty made mo a little shaky by talking about
the way the eagles killed @ man, sgmewhere,

“« We'll

 

Fifty feet down the cliff they could see a
bunch of sticks projecting from the ledge, and
knew that this must be the nest of the eagle.
Did it contain young birds? Of course it was
impossible to say with any certainty, but it was
highly probable, as the birds had carried the
fish to their eyrie after robbing the hawks. The
rope they had brought was a stout one, nearly
eighty feet in length, and, after fastening one
end securely to a small mountain pine, Dan
threw the other end over the cliff. Then, fling-
ing a basket over his shoulder, he prepared to
descend.

“Now you watch out, Lyme,” he said, ‘‘ and
if you see the old ’uns coming back, sing out to
me,”

Lyme promised, and Dan, getting a firm
clutch on the rope below the place where it touch-
ed the rocks, swung himself over—and began his
descent. Lyme lay down on his face, peering
down at him fixedly, forgetting all about the
old birds in his interest in Dan’s proceedings,
As Printer Dan had lived in a seaport town all
his life, he was something of a sailor, and knew
how to go down a rope. Lyme watched him
breathlessly until he landed safely upon the
ledge and took the basket: from his back. He
disappeared for a moment beneath the shelving
rocks, and the next moment his victorious
whoop was heard.

‘What luck?” roared Lyme.

“Bully! Two young birds.”

The screams of the young eagles were hear€
as Dan hastened to secure them and place them
in the basket preparatory to being hauled up by
Lyme. While thus engaged, the screams of the
young eaglets had borne fruit. Two black spots
were falling like meteors from the sky, but
neither Dan nor Lyme took note of this; they
were too busy in getting ready to haul up the

oung birds. There came a rushing sound, and

an threw up his arm to shield his head against
the rush of the male eagle, which, with a wild
scream, suddenly assailed him, dashing him
back against the rocks, Catching up a fragment
of rock, he hurled it at the bird with all bis
power, and shouted to Lyme to throw him a
club, But Lyme had other work upon his
hands, for the female bird, rightly judging him
to be a party to the assault upon their home,
had attacked him vigorously. Lyme caught up
the ax and repelled the attack as well as he
could, striking now with the edge and then with

| the helve, whenever the fierce bird made a new

attack, But, armed as he was, it was all he
could do to keep off his assailant without giving
any aid to Dan, who, weapouless, was waging
war with the male bird below—and having a |
bitter time of it. If he tried to drag a stick out.
of the nest he exposed his head to the talons and
beak of theenemy. Wheeling in and out’neath
the rocky wall, darting rapidly to the right
hand or the left, eluding bis blows skillfu
and watching an opportunity to attack, while
sharp screams of rage announced bis fury—the
mad eagle kept at work. Dan shouted again
and again to Lyme, but he was calling to a man
who had his hands full—and something more! _
Dan’s scalp already displayed two or three

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

The Chase of the Great White S ag and Camp and Cance.

29

 

long, irregular cuts, inflicted by the talons of
the eagle, and he began to despair. His bands
were cut and bleeding in a dozen places, and he
was getting bewildered. On came the savage
bird again, and he was beaten to his knees. He
struggled up and hurled a stone feebly at his
adversary, which struck him on the breast and
turned him back, but only for a moment, for he
came on again with a defiant scream. Dan had
no strength to resist, and could only lift his
bleeding hands to guard his head, when a rifle
cracked, and the eagle fell upon him — snot
through the beart! And far below, rocking in
his canoe, sat Fatty Brown with his rifte across
his knees, Dan sa~ this only, and fell exhsu:t-
ed on the,rocks. just as Lyme buried his ax to
the helve in the breast of his enemy, and the
war-whoop of Fatty Brown was heard echoing
along the silent lake.

The old guide ascended the rocks and assisted
Lyme in hauling Dan up from the ledge. He
walked down to the canoe in moody silence, re-
fusing to look.at the basket which Lyme carried
on hisarm. He was no longer interested in
eagles; but, if any one will take the trouble to
walk into Will Seaton’s study, he will see two
bald-beaded eagles facing each other upon the
wall. They were the two who died in defend-
ing their young on the face of the lofty cliff.

CHAPTER IX.
AN UNSEEN HUNTER.

Fatty Brown bad turned back, being trou-

led abuut Dan and Lyme, luckily for poor Dan
—as the result proved—leaving us to pursue
our way in charge of Indian Pete and Pete, Jr,.
who were fully competent to guide us to the
heme of the ducks. he lake wes beautiful, es
we floated on under the strong strokes of the
paddles, in the hands of the Indians, who, like
most of their race, were adepts with the broad
blade. Every stroke told, and the light canoes
cleft the water as if they had been living things,
We had our lines, this time, but Pete objected
to their use, as we had nearly eight miles to go,
and he did not wish to be delayed. Than took
a shot ata black duck which passed over cur
heads, and to the delight of the Indiavs brcught
it down, dead before it touched the water. It
was a glorious shot, but then ’Than kad learned
his trade where people shot “ to kill.” I Jook-
ed at him with unholy longing, and wished to
emulate him, but was deterred by the loud en-
treaties of the boys, and the manifest terror of
the Indians—who had no confidence in my
shooting—even less than they had in Dan’s. :

An hour later we entered a wide bay, into
which poured the waters of a sluggish creek.
The bay and creek were one mass of waving
rushes, standing six or cight feet above the wa-
ter, except in the channels which the water had
made in various places, Just before entering
the bay, we landed, and each made a sort of
cape of pine boughs, which we threw over our
heads, while other branches were arranged in
an artistic manner about the canoes—in such e@
way that they seemed like small, floating
islands of rushes and reeds, so often seen in these
unfrequented bays and lakes.

Then we again seated ourselves in the can
and entered the bay, where the Indians show

 

 

us really artistie work with the paddles. Not
a sound was heard as the blades passed through
the water, and the canoes floated slowly up thé
channel,

Every man sat with his double-barrel on his
knees, cocked aud ready, although Than, who
was in the canoe with Indian Pete and myself,
cast frequent and anxious glavees at my weas
pon. But 1 had learned something of duck-
shooting in the North Woods, and ’Than pru-
dently placed me in the bows. The canoe pass-
ed clear of the rushes, and we entered an open
place, which was literally alive with ducks of
all descriptions, from the stately caivas-back
to that reckless rover, the diver, called by a
red-hot name by hunters.

We had never seen a sight like this, even in
the northern lakes of New York, and for a mo-
ment we sat speechless, when Indian Pete lifted
his paddle and struck the water witha resound-
ing splash. In an instant the sky was literally
darkened by the flight of ducks, and we blazed
away.

Firing into that dark cloud of game birds, it
was next to impossible not to hit something
and for a moment it rained ducks. Only ’Than
and Wall, using breech loaders, gave them four
barrels before they got out of range. For, as-
tounded by the sudden invasion, the birds seem-
ed to be out of then senses, and came down
over the canoes in clos, It is a strange thing
that the wild duck, b "g attacked in a land
locked bay, will do aln. st any thing except fly
over the land to escape. -*ut the terrible slaug.\-
ter we made turned thea: back up the creek,
and we were left floating on the water, sur-
rounded by the trophies 01 our skill.

We paddled about, and in a few minutes had
secured ien ku‘ter-balls, as mary » ond-di cls
five black and four canvas backs. Others had
doubtless fallen in places amoug the rushes
through which it was impossible to force a ca-
noe, Just'as we picked up the last duck. I saw
Will stand up in the canoe and ininz his
double-barrel to his shoulder. A black duck,
almost as large as a goose, was coming down
over the canoes, bead on, and evidently deter-
mined, in the spirit of bravado, to get out into
the open lake in spite of the guns. The steady
eyes of the hunter looked along the brown bar-
rel, snd the hammer fell; but, to owr chagrin,
the cap failed to explode.

Will whirled quickly, and planted his foot
upon the middle thwart; but, in doing so, the
canoe rocked fearfully, and he dared not fire
until he had regained his equilibrium, By this
time the duck was at least fifty yards distant,
and we thought he would escape, but when the
canoe steadied, swept half about by the swift
paddle of the Todian, we heard the crack, and
expected to see the duck fly on unharmed. To
our delight, he turned suddenly, his broad
wings closed, and he went whirling down into
the water, fifty yards away. F :

“Good shoot!” said Indian Pete. - ‘You
heap big hunter, cappen; shoot much close, you
see; me likee you,’

This was the longest speech’ which I ever
heard from the lips of Indian Pete, and showed
that the magnificent shot had fil’ed him with
admiration.

 
  

   

30

“The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and Canoe.

 

Half a mile further on we came to another
epread in the creek, in the center of which was
another favorite pasture-ground of the ducks.
We waited for Indian Pete’s signal, but to our
surprise he did not give it, but backed the canoe
a little, with his eyes fixed upon a point in the
creek about ten feet from the shore. At this

lace there was a clump of green rushes, about

hree feet in circumference, which lay station-

ary upon the surface of the water. It was sur-
rounded by ducks, and as we gazed, we saw a
laige canvas-back strech bis limbs in an
attempt tofly; but the next moment he dis-
appeared beneath the calm water, with a low
quack! What diditmean? There was a grin
upon the stolid face of Indian Pete, and his son
looked at him iu a comical way. The ducks
again floated about the clump of grass, and as
before, one of the largest and most plump
among them went down In the water, and was
seen no more.

“Lookee here,” said the Indian, putting his
hand over the side of the canoe, and lifting
out a largecanvas-back, whose neck had been
broken in some way. ‘ He smart chap; me
scare ’um,”

He raised his paddle, and smote upon the
surface of the water, as before. Instantly the
ducks rose into the air, and we began our oe
silade, In the midst of the fun we heard a
loud shout of alarm, the clump of rushes under
which the ducks had disappeared were scat-

tered, and there popped up out of the water the |

countenance of an Indian, with every mark of
terror upon it, He was making for the shore
in ieng leaps, splashinz the water as be went,
and had nearly reached the bank, when Indian
Pete shouted to him in the Indian language,
At the sound of the well-known tongne, the
Indian halted, and turned toward us, He was
a rather intelligent-looking young Indian, with
no unnecessary garments upon him, looking
rather sheepish at the unwarlike manner in
which he had taken flight. He exchanged a
few grunting sentences with Indian Pete, and
then our canoes headed for the shore, and Pete,
Jr., who was more of a talker than his father,
explained the modus operandi of this destruct-
ive mode of duck-hunting.

The hunter enters the water, either at a time
when the ducks have left the feeding-ground
for the moment, or wades down frem above,
with his head enveloped in a mass of grass and
rushes, which seem to float naturally upon the
surface of the stream. Having reached a place
where he can stand with only his head above
the water, and this so shrouded in the green
that it cannot be seen, he waits for the coming
of the ducks, and is able to select for himself

the choicest of the flock, cither twisting. their |

necks beneath the water, after he bas drawn
them under, or holding them there until they
are drowned. Thereisa belt about the waist
of the hunter, from which hang alreamber of
stout pieces of cord, each with a hook at the
eud. hen the duck has ceased to struggle, the
hook is passed through the lower part of the bill,
and thus the hands of the hunter are left free to
work The young Indian whom we had
frightened out of the water was a great hunter
eo? that region who was well known for his

 

skill in woodcraft, and who, in the absence of a
party to guide, was hunting on his “town hook."
And, pendent by the broad belt about his waist.
we counted twenty-seven ducks—and they baa
been selected with a care which showed that
Hob-a-moc was an Indian epicure. The duck
which we found floating on the water, and which
had betrayed him, had in some way escaped
from his hands, and been carried away by the
current,

From that time until nearly three o’clock, we
made great slaughter among the featherea
tribes, and then, having filled the canoes until
there was scarcely room for the sitters, we
again embarked, and turned our prows toward
camp; where Fatty Brown, as he grilled ducks
over the roaring fire, told us of Dau’s adven-
ture in the eyrie of the eagle, and heard of our
exploits in his turn. :

CHAPTER X.
MAD ABE.

WueEn we had finished our supper, which was
not a light one, the unfailing tokacco began to
scent the air, and Will Seaton’s flask passed
from hand to hand. We were not drinking
men, but some among us, like Sairey Gump,
liked to have ‘‘a little settin’ on the mantel-
tree-piecoe, so that we could ee our lips to.it if
we were so ‘dispoged.’” en Fatty took up
his violin, tuned it, and commenced a wild,
plaintive air, from a Scotch master, at which
the leaves above us seemed to tremble and bend
toward the musician. As he played, a stealthy,
cat-like step was heard, at which some of the
younger among us reached for weapons, fearing
a panther or bear} when the tushes parted, and
a man came out with a stealthy step, and-seated
himself beside the fire.

A strange man, indeed—one whose face could
never be forgotten, when once seen. Fully six
feet in hight, with the brawn and muscle of a
Hercules, and every limb symmetrical as those
of a gladiator. His bair, suffered to grow long,
fell in heavy curling masses upon his broad
shoulders. His tawny beard, which had not
known the touch of a razor for years, hung
half-way to his, waist. His blue eyes, as they
were turned oe me, had a wild, sad light in
them, such as I have never seen except in the
eyes of the demented.

““Why, Abe, old boy!” said Fatty Brown,
gently. ‘‘ Where have you been? I’m mighty
glad to see you.”

The man did not answer, but picked up a
roasted duck from a piece of bark, upon which
it had been set aside, and began to eat with the
ravenous eagerness of a hungry wolf. His
white. teeth crunched the smaller bones av if
they had been pipe-stems, aud it was not long
before he flung down the skeleton, without a
fragment of meat upon it. Then he hoked at
Fatty Brown, and touched the violin with his
forefinger.

“Play, Dave!” he said, in a singularly sweet
and mournf,il voice. ‘She used'to play the
guitar, Mary did. Mary! Ha! The curse of
the devils on my guilty head, for 1 killed her
with this red right hand!” ‘

He bounded suddenly to his feet, and rusbeu
away, leaving us staring at one another in won-

 

 

 

 

 
 

  

 

 

The ‘hase of the Great White S'ag and Camp and Canoe.

 

3h

 

and dismay. Before either of us could
peak, he came rushing back.

‘What vengeance does blood-guiltiness de-
mand?” he screamed, raising his Se hand
on high, “*‘As a man sows, so shall he also
reap; I am guilty of blood, and the old law
says: ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a
tooth.’ Blood for @lood; I have shed it, and I
‘deserve to die.”

Fatty Brown touched his violin in one of his
Sweetest airs, and the man was calm instantly,
and dropped at the feet of the player. His
countenance changed, and became almost beau-
tiful. A sweet, earnest smile played over it,
as long as the sweet notes of the violin trem-
bled on the air. Then Brown began to talk
to him, while his bow still trembled over the
strings.

‘Where have you been these two months,
Abe?” he said. ‘You didn’t come to me on the

wer Saranac, as you promised,”

“T couldn’t, Dave; the spirit within me drove
me out into the wilderness. Sbe came to me in
tne night, Dave—why don’t you play, before I
go wild?”

‘Yes, yes; I am playing. Have you been
well treated, Abe? I'd like to hear tell of a man
that dared to injure you.”

‘Ha, ha, ha! shonted Abe. ‘ Who is there
ot all the men who walk the woods that Mad
-Abe fears to meet? What one dare face me,
when the mad spirit tears me?—as they tore
them of old times! Why should I be here,
hunted like the beast of the forest, seeking
death, and finding it not? Don’t you hear
me, you dogs? 1 killed her, and no man will
avenge her. I have asked from the law, as a
mercy, to give me death, I would have no
lawyers, when they tried me for the deed
No, no; 1 stood up in the court, before the
udge, and cried: ‘I killed her; give me to the
alter!’ But they said: ‘He is a macmun; let
him live,’ Oh, my God, that verdict! Why
could they not give me the death I coyeted,
when it was fortidden that I should take my
own life? Away! I am only fit for the dark-
ness of the forest, and the loneliness of the
grave.”

Again he bounded to his feet, and darted
away, and his tootsceps ceased to sound iu the
solemn depths of the forest. Dave Brown, with
4 deep sigh, laid down bis violin.

“ Poor Abe; dear old boy. That is the sed-
gest wreck I ever Leard of, toys—tke wreck of
agreat mind. It might be that I cling to him

» because his life, like mine, was touched by an
eaeoy. love. I'll tell you about it, if you don’t
milud,

‘“Abe Stanford is his name, and he was a
stucent in Hamilton college when it happened.
He fell in love when in his last year in college,
with as sweet a little girl as ever lived upon
this airth, Mary Fenton, I never knew of
two people better suited for each other, for
sbe was gentle and yielding, and he a strong
mae, fit to battle with the world and protect

er.

“One day a party went down from Utica to
Trenton Falls, You krow the place, Mr. Scrib-
bler; I see you there one time with Hank Hay-

THE

ward, and he introduced you to me as a ‘half:
brother to the Germau Stove-Hater,’”

“‘T was fossil-bunting,” I said. ‘‘ And by the
way, I got a Trilobite there—”

“I don’t want to bear anythirg ebcut ‘ime-
stone,” said Dan. ‘If you get Scrib on that
teck it will wind up all other talking. .Goon,
Dave.”

““They had a dancing platform in the woods,
up by the railroad, maybe half a mile from the
falls. But Abe was a student, and he wanted
to hunt them funny things they find in the
stones at Trenton, and dig up d* monds* above
the falls, You've been down the road to the
bottom of the ravine, below the big falls. Mr.
Scribbler, and you. know that it is a tichtish
staircase for a narvous person to go down.
Since that time they have set a chriu into the
side of the rock, for a person to Lang outo as he
goes down, and that is better. The ledge ia
just wiae enough to get down comfortably, and
if you look over the edge, and are anyway in-
clined to be narvous, it is a nasty place. I never
measured it, but it looks to be two hundred feet
high; though I don’t begin to suppose it is
When Abe and Mary turned into the path there
wasn’t a soul in sight, and Abe, wko did 1 ot
know what fear was, stepped to the edge and
looked down into the ravine.

«Don’t, Abe,’ said Mary,
shiver to look at you.’

‘* Abe laughed, and, stepping back, he caught
her by the waist, and gave her a little push
saying; ‘ l’tl throw you over the cliff?

‘‘She took one more step than he intended,
and before he could stretch out an arm to save
her, she had gone down into the abyss, with a
single scream of terror, and Abe dro; ped like a
dead man upon thestones. Perhaps it was well
for him that it was so, for he woud have flung
himself over after her if be hac bad the power.
Just as she fell, others of the party cam: up,
and some men went down to find her. But the

oor mangled form they brought up was noth-
ing hike the sweet girl who had left them, not
balf an hourbefore. Abe had a trial, and stoud
up before them all and cried out that he mur-
dered her, and but that her spirit had com-
mandeéd him to live and suffer, he would take
bisown life. - =

““Of course the jury could see that he was
mad, and in spite of his wish to die, he was ac-
quitted, Then he fled to the woods—a mied-
man! I have known him for years, and cun
calm him in his wildest moods, simply by the
music of my fiddle. In the winter he goes to
the South, and lives in the Everglades. When
spring comes he always goes to Trenton, stands
by the place where she died, and curses the law
which will not avenge her. Poor, poor lad;
his is a noble heart, broken, and the day which
gives him rest will be to him the dawn of
peace.”

Back again to the busy haunts of men to de.
our work in life. And we feel, as we buckle ov
the armor, that man is better able to do hiz
part after a season in Nature’s wildest places.

‘It makes me

 

* Fatty Brown’s “diamonds” are no more tha

 

anes crystals abounding about Trenton Falla,

 
saa naan

i, ate) ie Alinatthiiarirsitlllilians lel

 

ee WRAL A RAPA EARS? *

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Extracts from the New York Evening Sun.

TWO REMARKABLE

In only one sense of the word can it be regarded asa
novei statement when the faes is here recorded that litera-
ture has given.many heroes to the world, and perhaps
move than one reader will have to think a moment over
this pemark before the subtle delicacy of its genial wit
atrikes home,

But it is mest essentially a half dime novel statement
that will be news to many when it is added that litera-
ture, if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam
was a mere child down to the present day, wowld show
but few heroes that in the eyes of boyhood would be
even judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest
heroes known to American literature, or, to promptly re-
veal them, Deadwood Dick and Deadwood Dick, Jr.

* * * The modern heroes of fiction for young America,
who are now as countless as the sands of the sea, and of
whom the Deadwood Dicks are much the most important
* * * it is but natural that their * * * should bear
away the palm of popularity, and such as * * * be left
tar behind in the race,

It can be easily believed, therefore, that the two Dicks
are so firmly engrafted on the tree of popular literature
for boys and young men, that their position is assured
* * * and that they stand to-day head and shoulders

MEROES.,

above all rivals in the eyes of the public for which they
have lived, and for which one of them has died,

American boyhood, and that is a tremendous factor in
the land, now knows Deadwood Dick, Jr., a good beal bet-
ter than it knows its catechism, and millions of young
minds absorb the thrilling incidents of his career in his
everlasting warfare against crime and his never-ending
solving of bmpenetrable myst+ ries.

Millions of boys follow his stealthy footsteps as he tracks
his vicious victims to their undoing, and then, when the
victims are thoroughly undone, the millions wait hungrily
for the next volume, which on every Wednesday appears
with the certainty of the Wednesday itself, and a new set
on Sere thrills go thrilling away from Maine to Call-

ornla,

There are the volumes each so crowded with thrills and
heart-tugs that It were madness to hope te do justice to
them collectively and rank injustice to discriminate be
tween them,

To abandon the Idea of giving a few extracts causes in
finite pain, but if once a start were made in that direg-
tion, it would be cruel to The Mvening Sun’s readers to
stop, and it is therefore better not to relate one single
adventure, Suffice it to say that the stories are clean and
well written,

 

DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY.

1 Dea¢ wood Dic., the Prince of the Road

3 Tic Louble Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick's Defiance

3 Th Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures

4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol 3

5 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval

6 Death-Face, the Detective

7 The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza

8 Old Avalanche, the Great -Annihilator; or, Wild
Edna, the Girl Brigand

9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian

10 Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick
in Danger ‘

{1 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to

Death 5
12 —o Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood

ar

18 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team

14 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter

¥% Deadwood Dick on Deck: or, Calamity Jane

16 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo

@ Sees. Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the
ule .

18 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand

#® Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob's Reappearance

90 Watch-Eye, the Shadow

i aay Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of the Double
Toss ‘

@ Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief

% Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke

for Liberty

& Deadwood Dick as Detective

%5 Gilt-Kdge Dick

% Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker; or, The Secret Twelve

8 Chip, the Girl Sport

% Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune

® Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks

so et Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon's
ule

M1 Blonde Bill; or. Deadwood Dick’s Home Base

® Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent )

 

38 Tonv Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob's Boss Job

34 A Gaine of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike

35 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party

36 New York Nell. the Boy-Girl Detective

87 Nobbv Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierras

38 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo

39 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last
Adventure

40 Deadwood Diek’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road

41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebel

42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp

43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues

44 Detective Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator’

Game
The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme
The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado
47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam's Claim
48 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son; or, Apollo Bill, the
Road-Agent
49 Sierra Sam, the Detective
50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Detect-

ives

51 Sierra Sam’s Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough
Ranch_—.

52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise

53 Denver Doll's Device; or, The Detective Quees

54 Denver Dol] as Deteetive

55. Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Buckskin the Spom

56 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss

57 Deadwood Dick Trapped

58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, Tne Messenger Bor}
Fortune

59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport

60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner

61 Deadwood Diek’s Mission

62 Spotter Fritz: or, The Store-Detective’s Decoy

63 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa-
fras City

64 Bar Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Ca"

ings )

 

M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers (James Suilivan, Proprietor),
379 Pearl Street. NEW YORK. ;