a7 Bead

 

 

 

Copyright, 1885 & 1891, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N.Y.,

 

4 M. J. IVERS & CO. Publishers. < re
No 55 Published (James Sullivan Proprietor.) price 'D Cents.
. Every Week. 379 Penvl Street. New York $2.50 a Year

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

 

 

 

  

Copyright, 91, by 1 4 . as second ¢lass matter.

  

 

 

Published wen) Price 5 Cents.
0, 55 Bes ae (James Sullivan, Proprietor,) ae Fo Ee Vol, \,
* . Every Week. 379 Pearl Street, New York. $2.50 a Year.

Tp Tressell, the Flatboat Boy.

BY EDWARD WILLETT.

 

 

) ie

. THE FIRST BLOW HAD HARDLY TOUCHED THE BOQX'S BACK WHEN SINDALS SPRUNG FROM THE STEBRING-BENCH,

 
  

Tip Tressell,
THE FLATBOAT BOY;

OR,

BILLY KEHOE’S REVENGE.
BY EDWARD WILLETT,
AUTHOR OF ‘‘ WIDE-AWAKE GEORGE, THE
BOY PIONEER,” ‘‘ SHARP SIM; THR
LAD WITH A LEVEL HEAD,”

ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.
AFLOAT ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

A Loe was floating on the muddy water of
the Mississippi, some distance below the
mouth of the Ohio.

It was evidently a saw-log, the product of
some Wisconsin pinery, that had been lost
from a raft many miles up the river, and it
had not yet become sufficiently water-soaked
to lose its buoyancy.

In itself it would not have been an attract-
ive object, except to some stray boatman
with a grapple and a tow rope, if there had
not been a bit of human life associated with
it.

This bit of human life was a boy, some
fifteen or sixteen years of age, who sat
astride the log as it floated, and partly con-
trolled its course with a piece of board that
he used as a paddle.

He -was a bright young fellow to look at,
and the expression of daring and resolution
that he carried in his face added interest to
his sunbrowned features. His tattered straw
hat covered a head of raven black hair,
which fell over his forehead, but did not
conceal his large, dark eyes. The rest of his
apparel, as far as it could be seen out of the
water, was scanty and not a little ragged.

But the matter of clothes was one that in-
terested him very little at that moment, as he
was mainly occupied in sticking to his log
and directing its movements.

How did hie happen to be there?

To explain that point the reader must
travel backward a couple of weeks or so,
ae to a point near the head-waters of the

io.

The b vy.and the log represented the upper
portions of two great rivers, widely sepa-
rated at their sources, and they had come to-
gether, as the waters of the two rivers do,
after a long journey.

On the West Virginia side of the upper

 

Tip Tressell,

 

Ohio, and scarcely more than a rod from the
crumbling bank of the river, stands a cabin.
It is a mere shanty, containing but one small |

the Floater.

room, rudely built of logs, and nearly tn
ruins at that. The door hardly hangs on its
hinges, and the one shutter has been boarded
up, as the easiest way of mending it.

The proprietor, a fair sample of the ‘genus
squatter, is seated on a block in front of the
shanty, cleaning an old-fashioned rifle,

By name he is Abe Trotter, and by pro-
fession, when he deigns to do anythin but
haunt the cross-roads “‘ doggeries” and drink
‘blaze face,” he is a hunter and a fisher-
man. The rifle indicates the one occupation,
and a long ‘‘trot line,” stretched between
two trees, and with large hooks dangling at
regular intervals, speaks of the other.

As for farming, that is beneath the notice
of Abe Trotter. He cultivatesa few “truck
patches,” such as he can easily manage
without the use of a horse, and it is precious
little care that they get.

Lying in the sun near the cabin are two
tall and gaunt dogs, of no recognized breed
except the ‘‘yaller dog” variety, but they
are Abe Trotter’s special pets, as one of them
is a ‘‘ heavy coon dog,” and the other has the

reputation of being the best woodchuck dog

in the district.

They are of far more importance in Abe’s
eyes than a human specimen, in the shape of
a boy, who is seated on the grass, fondling a
hound puppy.

But the boy attracts his attention after a
while, the rifle having been put in order, and
he looks up and speaks to him, bending his
shaggy eyebrows.

“Tip, my boy, it’s played out.”

** What’s played out, Abe?” asks the boy,
lifting his big, bold, black eyes.

““You an’ me, Tip, I’ve took good keer of
yoo now, gwine on these many years—hain’t

“«Tol’able,”briefly replied the boy.

““Wal, I don’t pretend to be the Emp’ror of
Rooshy, nor even a hotel-keeper to Wheelin’,
but I’ve gi’n yer a shelter an’ fodder an’ suth-
in’ to wear, as long as the money helt out
an’ now it’s gone, and I mean to send you
adrift.”

“‘ Who paid the money?” quickly demand-
ed Tip.

“Why, yer dad, Leastways,I reckon he
was yer dad.”

“What ’came of him? Where 4s he now?”

“Durned if I know. He lit out. It ain’t
likély that you or I will ever set eyes on him
ag’in.’

The boy looked down moodily, and it was
a few minutes before he spoke again.

“‘Reckon he was ashamed ‘0’ me,” he said.
‘But I tell you, Abe, he can’t be a bit more
ashamed o’ me than I am o’ him. How do
you allow to send me adrift, old man?”

/

‘\

ere

 

  

 

 

 
 

ee,

 

 

 

 

 

Tip Tressell,

the Floatex.. 8

 

Abe Trotter looked out on the smooth and
shining river. The “spring rise” was com-
ing on, and the Ohio was nearly bank full
and rising; a fleet of coal boats was coming
down, and the ‘‘broadhorns,” with their
cargoes of hay, pottery, staves, and other up-
ceuntry merchandise, were beginning to
8 out from the Alleghany and Mononga-

ela.

“«Thar’s the river,” he said, ‘‘an’ thar’s
boats on it. It’s easier to go down than to
goup, an’ that’s as good a way to start as
any.”

The boy said nothing. Evidently he had
become accustomed to taking life as he found
it.

*““That’s all fur now,” continued Abe, as
he rose and shouldered his rifle. ‘‘I’m
gwine over to the cross-roads a bit. You
stay yeer, Tip, an’ look arter the dorgs.”

“ Look out that you don’t git b’ilin’ full,
‘old man,” was Tip’s parting admonition.

About two miles from the cabin at the
river was a cross-roads ‘‘ doggery,” kept by
Garret Dyckman, a descendant of the old
Holland emigrants, who had “scooped in”
many an acre and dollar from the other in-
Ihsbitants by a process of slow poisoning.
But his establishment was still only a rough
board shanty, with a smal! house at the rear.

Abe Trotter was a well-known customer,
if not a regular one, at Dyckman’s place,
and when he entered the shanty the landlord
stepped to the bar to supply his wants.

“Gimme a stiff horn o’ applejack, Garret,”
said the squatter, ‘‘an’ hang it up for a day
or so.”

Dyckman’s face expressed a positive refu-
sal of thisrequest, and he informed Trotter
that he could “hang up” nothing more
there until he paid what he owed.

«Jest one horn,” pleaded Abe. ‘‘I’m
kinder shaky to-day, an’ I’ve got a big matter
to think about.”

“ That’s played, out, Abe Trotter.”

A man who had been sitting in a corner of
the room rose and approached the bar, gazin
intently at Trotter, and stepping forwar
briskly when the name of the latter was
spoken,

He was a tall and muscular man, with
black hair and eyes and a swarthy complex-
ion. His apparel was unusually fine for that
region, and a broad {f@'t Hat added pictur-
esqueness to his appearance.

“Tet him have what he wants, landlord,
and I will pay for it,” said this man.

Dyckman set out glasses, and Abe Trotter
fell back to stare at this welcome intruder.
His stare was followed by a look of recogni-

tion.
‘Tg it really you?” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Who'd

 

ha’ thought 0’ comin’ up on you, of all men
in the world?”

‘‘Drink your liquor and haul in the slack
of your jaw,” replied the stranger. ‘‘I want
to have a little talk with you.”

Trotter gulped down his applejack and
followed his liberal friend out of the shanty.

They crossed the road and sat down ca a
log in the shade.

“Jest the werry man I was a-studyin’
about,” remarked Abe.

‘Never mind that. How is the boy?”

“¢Oh, he’s all right, an’ it was him J was
worryin’ about. 1 toid him this mornin’
that 1'd kep’ him as long as 1 couid an’ meant
to send him adrift.”

“‘Where would you send him, and how?”

“Down the river, I reckon. Thar’s plenty
of boats runnin’ now, an’ it’s a long v’yge.”

“He would be likely, then, to bring up
many miles from here?”

“Down to Orleans, I should say, or thar-
abouts.”

““That’s the best thing you can do, Abe
Trotter. Send him adrift as soon as you
please, and then forget him.”

The squatter looked up at the stranger
with a knowing twist in his eye.

“That's a hoss of another color,” he re-
marked. ‘J ain’t a good hand at forgittin’,
and it mought worry.me to forgit suthin’
that has took a strong holt onto me.”

“Perhaps it might, and the worry would
be worth something. I wil give you fifty
dollars in cash to close out the business, and
you are to ship off the boy and forget him.”

“Tt’s a bargin. But J want yer to onder-
stand, mister, that I've done the best I could
by the boy. He’d ha’ had a better show if
my old woman had lived. But she dropped
off so suddent and queer-like that it upsot
things. It was some three year arter you
left the boy with us that she went down to
the river to git a bucket o’ water, an’ she
never come back, I went down to look arter
her, an’ the bucket was settin’ thar full, but
no Nancy. I reckon she must: ha’ tumbled
into the river, an’ the current carried her off,
an’ that was the last of Nancy Trotter, That
upsot things a heap.”

“Jt was a bad job for you, I suppose,” re-
plied the stranger. ‘‘ But it was no fault of
mine, and you needn’t drag up that sort of
thing now. Here is your mongy, Abe.

He counted out five crisp ten-dollar bills,
and rose from the log.

“We are quits now, Abe Trotter,” he said.
‘* Forget the boy, and forget me.”

He crossed the road, unhitched a fine bay
horse, and rode away.

Abe Trotter stuffed the bills into his pocket,
and returned to Dyckman’s doggery.

see
 

  

Tip Tressell,

the Floater.

 

CHAPTER II.
LIFE AND DEATH ON A BROADHORN.

Tr was late at night when Abe Trotter got
back to the cabin by the river, the moon giv-
ing him scarcely light enough to pick his un-
certain way. ;

Late as it was, Tip and the dogs were there
waiting for him, and the boy helped him into
the cabin.

“So, old man, you did go and git b’ilin’
full,” remarked Tip, as he steadied his guar-
dian’s steps. ‘‘Now you have got to turn
in and sleep it off.”

But Abe Trotter had not yet reached the.

stupid stage of intoxication.

“Hold a bit, Tippy, my boy,” said he.
‘Gimme my pipe, an’ lemme take a smoke
fust.”

As he smoked he talked in a maudlin man-
ner, leering at the boy with half-closed eyes.

“T’ve been a great friend to you, Tip,” he
said. ‘If my old woman hadn’t dropped
off you mought ha’ had a better time; but
I’ve done my best. I’ve taught yer to swim,
an’ shoot, an’ fish, an’ hunt coons an’ wood-
chucks, an’ make yerself useful. Yes, Tip,
I’ve done the fa’r thing by yer, an’ have took
a big likin’ to yer, an’ it'll be powerful lone-
some when you's gone. But I’ve got to ship
yer off an’ forgit yer, ‘Them’s his orders, an’
wot he paid me fur.”

““Whose orders? Whopaid you?” eagerly
demanded the boy.

“Why, the man-who brought you here—
your dad, I reckon.”

‘“When did you see him? Wheredid you
see him?’

““This mornin’, at Dyckman’s.”

** He is alive and about, then. What does
he look like?”

«A big, tall man. Black haired and dark
faced, like you.”

«« And he paid you to ship me off? What
more did he have to say?”

Abe Trotter half-closed his eyes, knocked
the ashes out of his pipe, and rolled over into

his bunk,

' “You don’t git nothin’ more out o’ me,
Tip,” said he. ‘“‘ ’ve told yer all thar is to
tell, an’ it’s enough fur yer to know.”

“T don’t care,” replied the boy. ‘‘ Them
as don’t like me can leave me alone, and I
won't worry ’em.” ;

In spite of his heavy drinking Abe Trotter
was up at diylight the next morning. Af-
ter refreshing himself by a plunge in the
cool water 0: the Ohio, he took his rifle, and
sallied out into the forest, returning shortly
with a buck that he had killed.

Tip had prepared breakfast, which was
soon eaten, and the buck was carried down
to the river and placed in the skiff,

 

Then Abe sat on the bank and watched
the big flatboats that occasionally came
floating down the river, singly or in groups,
until he fixed his eye on a broadhorn that
suited his purpose, and he made Tip pull
the skiff out to her.

She was loaded: with staves,and seemed to
be fully manned; but Abe did not hesitate to
propose an addition to her crew in the per-
son of Tip.

The commander of the broadhorn refused
the offer. He had plenty of men, and did
not wish to be bothered with boys. -

“But this is a fine boy,” Abe insisted.
‘*He kin cook an’ make hisself the usefulest
kind. He wants to go on the river to hunt
his fortun’, and you may have this deer-
meat, and I’ve gota few dollars to throw in-
ter the barg’in.’

The result of the negotiations was that
Abe Trotter returned to his cabin alone, and
Tip floated down the Ohio on the stave

boat.

At first the boy found his new life quite a
pleasant one, mainly because it was new.
There was not much adventure or excitement
in floating down the placid Ohio, and his
duties—he had been appointed cook of the
craft—were rather monotonous; but it was
better than livin
that lonesome cabin.

But the disagreeable side of flatboating
soon made itself manifest to the lad. As a
boy, and among strangers, he was not treated
too well by any of the crew, and the evident
desire of Abe Trotter to get rid of him made
them look down upon him as a person who
was only fit to be ordered around and
knocked about.

There were two of the crew who seemed
to have a special spite against him—two
rough fellows, named Merch and Spriggs,
who had been picked up at Alleghany City.

As these two brutes had been under the
feet of the world the most of theirlives, they
were naturally glad of a chance to tyrannize
over somebody, and made the most of the
opportunity which ‘Abe Trotter had thrown
in their way. They set themselves at work
to persecute poor Tip and to give him a
dog’s life to lead. They compelled him to
do a large share of their work in addition to
fis own, and curses and kicks and blows
were his Jot when he dared to object to this
injustice.

ip complained to ‘‘ Captain” Dawson as

the commander of the broadhorn was styled,

but found no sympathy in that quarter.

‘I guess you'll have to stand it and try to
make the best of it, young chap,” replied
Dawson. ‘‘ You're a sort of a byblow, you
see, and the men know it, and that makes a
difference,”

alone with Abe Trotter in

  

8)
A

 

 

 

 
 

cite wey alti in

 

 

 

Tip Tressell, the Floater. &

 

*¢ What is a byblow?” asked Tip.

“I thought everybody knew that. You
don’t know your father, and your father
don’t want to know you, and nobody is will-
in’ toown you, and that makes you a cut- |
loose sort of a character.”

Tip understood that he was something
that everybody had a right to despise, and
was humiliated by the thought, but was not
any more reconciled to the increasing perse- |
cutions of Merch and Spriggs.

The fourth man of the crew was Jesse
Siddals, a tall lumberman from the interior
of Pennsylvania, who did not seem to be an |
ill-natured sort of a fellow, though he was‘
in the habit of treating Tip contemptuously.

As the persecutions of the two brutes in- |
creased Jesse Siddals began to frown upon
them, and one night, shortly after the flat-
boat had floated into the swift current of the
Mississippi, there was a quarrel between him |
and Merch.

Merch had Tip by the collar and was cuf- |
fing him for no cause, when Siddals, who |
‘was on the steering bench, ordered him to ,
leave the boy alone.

The brute, looked up in amazement, his
surprise at first exceeding his anger, and Tip
wriggled out of his grasp and ran away.

** You have aboske: that boy too much al-
seady, Dan Merch, and you’ve got to quit
it,” said the tall lumbexman.

“‘When did you git to be my boss, you big
scarecrow?”

“I don’t pretend to be a boss, but I say
you’ve got to quit abusin’ that boy. I won't
stand by and see it done any longer.”

**You may sit down, then, or lie down, or
take it in any shape you want to, but I mean
to give that young scalawag a bastin’ when-
ever I feel like it.”

** Not when I am around, Dan Merch.”

“That is the very time I shall pick to do |
it, and it won’t be safe for you to meddle
with me.”

Merch was as good as his word. Thenext
night he dragged Tip up on the roof of the |
boat and prepared to flog him with a cruel- |
looking leather strap.

Siddals stood on the steering-bench and
Spriggs lay on the roof, ready to watch ‘‘the
fun.

The first blow had hardly touched the boy’s
back when Siddals sprung from the steering-
bench, seized the brute by the collar, jerked
him loose from Tip and threw him violently |

 

But Merch was instantly on his feet, with |
a a knife gleaming in his hand. |
Siddals was just as quick with his knife, |
and. aftera few passes he struck the other’s .
weapon from his grasp, knocking it into the

river. i

Apparently he did not care to follow up
his advantage, and ran to regain the steering-
oat, the head of which.had veered to the
edge of the boat.

As he did this Tip saw something that
sharply attracted his attention.

Dan Merch was standing up, and some-
thing gleamed in his right hand. It was not
a knife, and it was pointed toward Siddals.

Tip sprung forward with a cry, hoping to

| protect his friend and champion, but he was

too late. There was a flash and a report,
and Siddals, without a word, fell over into
the river.

The boy ran up on the steering-bench and

| looked over the side of the flatboat, but he

saw only the dark and eddying water. The
suddenness of the disappearance of Siddals
shocked him so that he could scarcely stir.

As it happened the scuffle on the roof and
the report of the pistol had not awakened
“Cap” Dawson, and Merch and his com-
rade perceived that if they should close Tip’s
mouth they might account for the loss of
Siddals in their own way.

They told the boy that he must hold his
tongue about the matter, or sudden death
would be his portion. §

Tip said nothing; but he had already de-
termined upon the course he should pursue.

He climbed down off the roof and kept
quiet. :

At the darkest hourof the night he slipped
from the stern of the broadhorn into the
river, and silently swam to an island near
by, trusting to luck and his swimming abil-
ity to take him to a place of safety.

CHAPTER IIT.
FOUND, A GRANDMOTHER.

A FLATBOAT that was pretty widely known
on the lower Mississippi as ‘‘The Search ”
was in some respects a very peculiar craft.

The flatboats mostly in use on the Ohio
and Mississippi rivers were of three descrip-
tions—coal flats, broadhorns and store boats.
The coal flats were large open boxes. The
broadhorns were also large, but were inclosed

 

| and roofed in, to give shelter to cargoes of

staves, hay, earthenware and the like. The
store boat was much smaller than these, but
was more carefully constructed. It was a
one-story house set upon a flatboat, arranged
for living purposes as well as for tle display
and sale of merchandise. It was usually
whitewashed, and had a name sugyrestive of
the business for which it was used.

The ‘‘Search ” was built in the store-boat
style, but of better material and in a more
costly manner than was customary with such
a craft. The house on the flatboat was
painted white and supplied with windows,
and its interior arrangements were far more

 

4 # *
1 ana eG a RRA RNS REE

 

 
  

 

Tip Tressell, the Floater.

 

elaborate and expensive than those of any
store boat, This mud-turtle craft was, in
fact, a floating dwelling, whose owner pre-
ferred to live upon the water, and had it
fitted it up for that purpose.

As day was breaking in the eastern sky,
the ‘Search ” was floating down the Missis-
sippi, between an island and the west bank,

he had a steering-bench across the roof,
and a long steering-oar, similar to those of
other such craft, and on the steering-bench
stood a tall and powerful man, with a Ger-
man cast of features. Near him lounged a
boy, nearly grown, whose face was unmis-
takably Irish.

The intense stillness of the early morning,
before the woods had awoke, was broken by
a cry which came from the direction of the
island at the left.

“‘ Hello-o, the boat!”

The tall man looked toward the island,
and saw a dark object emerging from the
shadow. It was floating with the current,
and at the same time appeared to be pro-

elled more or less in the direction of the flat-
oat.

«‘Phwat’s that, Adam?” asked the lad.

“Dot vas somebody or somet’ings,” slowly
replied the other.

“Tf it ain’t somebody, yez may call Mike
Rafferty a Dutchman, and sure it’s a lift-
handed compliment that would be.”

‘Dot vas besser for you of you could been
born a Dutchman, my boy.”

“Tt’'sa man, Adam, ora boy. Look at it
now!”

The dark object had cleared the shadow
of the island, and was clearly seen to bea
log with a person astride of it, and again the
hail came across the water.

“Tt’s a boy’s voice,” said Mike. ‘Phwat
are yez goin’ to do about this, Adam?”

“You gets in dot skiff, Mike, und bringg
dot boy here.”

‘What will she say, Adam?” _

“You makes dot boy safe, und der she
vill say vot she vill say.”

Mike Rafferty jumped into the skiff, and
pulled for the log with a will. In a few
minutes he returned, bringing a boy some-
what younger and smaller than himself, and
who was very wet.

Hie shook himself like a dog, and began to
give an explanation of his position.

“Don't you talk, sonny,” said Adam, lay-
ing a heavy hand on his shoulder. ‘ Talk is
cheap, aber it dakes gelt for buyin’ dot
visky. Shqueeze dot vasser out, und come
mit me. Maybe she pitch you oferboard
some more, hey?”

The boy could not understand this at all;
but he silently obeyed orders, and followed

cabin of the boat.

 

his conductor into what may be called the

They passed through aroom that was neat-
ly fitted up with sleeping berths, chairs, a
table, and other appliances of comfort. Then
they entered a kitchen, amply and even ele-

antly supplied with everything necessary

or the culinary department of the craft.
Here a fat black boy, with a shining face,
had just lighted a fire in a handsome stove.

The boy quietly seated himself in a chair
which the large man pointed out to him, and

the latter passed into another apartment,

closing the door behind him,

In a few-minutes he returned, beckoned to °

the boy, and led him into the third room,
where the lad was so astonished by what he
saw that he could do nothing but stand and
stare.

This room was as large as both the others,
occupying about half the boat, and was
sumptuously fitted up and furnished. The
floor was covered with a carpet in which the
feet seemed to sink, the walls were hun
with elegant paintings and engravings, an
the wooden ceiling was finely frescoed.
There was a costly center table, with several
luxurious chairs and a book-case full of
books, and on a cushioned lounge at one'side
was seated an elderly lady, richly if not ele-
gently dressed, with large diamords in her
ears, and a profusion of jewelry upon her
person.

On the other side of the room was a very
comfortable-looking bed; but the black boy
came in, removed the bed-clothes, and turned
it up, so that it presented the appearance of
a handsome piece of stationary furniture.

The old lady was inclinéd,to be portly,
and her hair was gray, and her face, though
not unkindly, was rather severe, like that of
a person who was accustomed to having her
own wa

‘ and this is the boy, Adam Stocker,” said

she.

The tall German nodded.

‘“Well, boy, you have been picked up
adrift in the Mississippi, a strange position
for a boy to be placed in.
me how it happened, and satisfy me that you
mean no-harm, or overboard you go again.
What is your name?”

“Tip,” replied the waif.

“ But that is not your full name.
must be more of it. ‘Tip who?”

“Tip Tressell,” said the boy, who doubted
whether he really owned any name.

The old lady, who had been reclining on
her cushions, started up anny, Her pale
face flushed, and her bright black eyes gazed
at Tip as if they would read his inmost
thoughts, \

There

fh

You must tell .

    

ee

 

 

 
   

 

 

<——

Tip Tressell,

the Floater. 7

 

* What's that?” she exclaimed. ‘‘Is that
our real name?’ Are you sure of it? Tip
ressell? Does the Tip stand for Tipton?”

“Dunno, mum. I wasn’t never called
nothin’ but Tip, though Abe Trotter told me
that Tressell went with the name.”

“Look at me, boy! Do you know that I
am Eliza Tressell; that this boat is my house,
and that I am traveling up and down the
river, looking for my son who ran away
from me years ago?”

“*Dunno nothin’ about that, mum.”

“There are many people who know it.

Did any of them put you up to the game of |

going adrift on the Mississipni, getting picked
up by this boat, and trying to pass yourself
off on me as some sort of a relative?’

“You are too much for me, mum,” re-
plied Tip. ‘‘I can’t see what you are tryin’
to git hold of.”

‘“Adam Stocker, take this boy away, and |

Some of Mike’s

”

give him some dry clothes.
ought todo. Then bring him back to me.

ip was led away, wondering what sort of
acraft it was that he had happened upon,
and what was the matter with the old lady
who had questioned him so sharply.

“Is she crazy?’ he asked, when Adam
Stocker and Mike Rafferty were providing
him with the garments he needed.

“Grazy?” exclaimed the big German.
“Dat woman grazy? Mine coodness cray-
shus! Vas you grazy yoursellef? Dot vo-
sa vas got more sense as a shteamboat
pilot.”

““Be neg me,boy,” remarked Mike, “if
you pick the misstis up for a crazy woman,
you'll drop her like a hot petaty.”

Tip was convinced that she was not crazy
when he was taken back to her. She gave
him a seat in an easy-chair, and encouraged
him to tell his story.

He told it as well as he could. He only

knew that he had always lived, as long as he :-

could remember, away up there with Abe
Trotter; that he had always been known as
Tip; that Abe had told him that his name
was Tressell; that hints had been thrown
out of a man who had left him there and paid
money for his support; and that the man

had lately been inquiring about him and,

prompting Abe to turn him adrift. His ad-
ventures since he left his ae guardian
were fresh in his memory, and he related
them fully and graphically.

“Adam Stocker,” said Mrs. Tressell, ‘‘I
believe the boy speaks the truth. It is a
strange story that he tells, but he tells it-in a
straightforward and honest manner. What
do you think?”

“T dink so, toa, neider.”

“Tf his story is true,” continued the old

' teay, speaking to herself, rather than to
either of the others, ‘‘the chances are that
| he is my grandson, the son of my lost son
| Martin. fever heard that Martin had mar-
/ ried; but that is not at all strange, and he
would be just the man to desert wife and son
/ as he deserted his mother. ‘Tressell is an
; unusual name, and Tipton Tressell is yet
/more unusual. Tip stands for Tipton, of
| course. My husband’s name was Tipton
| Tressell, and Martin must have named the
boy after his father. That shows that he had
some filial feeling left.”

She looked again at Tip, who was taking
_ all this in with his eyes wide open, wonder-
! ing whether he had really found a grand-
| mother. He had heard of grandmothers,
| and envied boys who had them, but. had
| never thought it possible that he could ac-
quire such a treasure,

“He has Martin’s hair and eyes,” said the
| old lady, ‘‘and he has Martin’s free, bold
| Jook. Adam Stocker, I will take him on
| trial as a grandson, I am not sure, but I
| think he is mine. Martin may have half a

dozen wives and a dozen children, for all I
| know. It would be just like him. Adam,
| we will land at Memphis, and we will get
‘some clothes for Tip. It can do no harm,
|-anyhow, to take care of him. I have not

too many good deeds to bless myself for.”

CHAPTER IY.
MORE OF TIP’S RELATIVES.
In a front room on the second floor of a
, dingy house in the business part of Mem-
| phis two men were seated.
The suit of rooms was reached by a nar-
| Tow staircase, which was none too clean,
giving them an unpromising approach, but
when the door was opened the visitor would
‘naturally be surprised to find himself in such
handsome apartments.
There were two rooms, both nicely fur-
*nished and neatly kept. The back room con.”
tained a, well-fitted bar and the appliances of
a keno ‘‘dead-fall.” In the front room were
a faro ‘‘ lay-out” and tables for other games.
Evidently a gambling den, of neither the
highest nor the lowest class.

As the hour was early the two men who
have been mentioned were the only occu-
pants of the apartments, with the exception
of a colored man, who was lazily handling a
' dust brush.
| These two were seated at a table, playing

cards, without manifesting much interest in
the game, and it was apparent that they were
playing with each other merely to pass the
| time while waiting for victims.

| One of them was a tall, stalwart, swarthy
-man of thirty-five or forty, with ‘sporting

j

 

 
   

8

Tip Tressel, the Floater.

 

man” plainly written in his features and in
the cut of his clothes. He was, known in
the towns along the river as Sam Martin.

The other was ‘‘Billy” Kehoe, the pro-
prietor of the place, a somewhat younger
man than the other, chiefly distinguished by
his heayy watch-chain and immense dia-
mond pin.

As they listlessly handled the cards, bet-
ting small sums ‘‘to make the game inter-
esting,” the door opened and a young man
stepped into the room,

Both the players looked up as he entered,
but. took no further notice of him than a
quick, scrutinizing glance. It was not at
once apparent. whether he was a ‘‘sucker”
or a “‘sharp.”

He was a well-dressed young man, of light
but active build, with an open and fearless
expression of countenance. One would say
that he was calculated to make his way in
the world, and that no slight obstacles could
stand in his path.

This young man moved a chair to the
card-table, and seated himself there,

“You are the man I have been looking
for,” he said, fixing his gaze upon Sam Mar-
tin,

“Tt is your deal, Billy,” said Martin; as he
bestowed a supercilious stare upon the in-
truder.

“Perhaps you don’t know me,” remarked
the young man.

“Can’t say that I do,” replied Martin.

. But I know you. You are Martin Tres-
sell.”

Billy Kehoe started, and looked at his
companion curiously.

«And I am George Aglar.”

“Still I don’t know you,” said Martin,
moving his chair so that he squarely faced
the young man.

“I am the brother of Minnie Aglar, whom
you married.”
~ “TY never married any person of that
name.”

“Perhaps you have since married so
many that you have forgotten her.”

“‘Perhaps you mean that remark for an
insult; but [am not ina quarrelsome mood
just now. J remember the girl well enough;

ut I never married her.”

feMou lel”

Sam Martin jumped up, and his pistol was
out in an instant; but the other was quite as
quick as he.

Shots would have followed, if Billy
Kehoe had not rushed between them, push-
ing each back. :

“Please, gentlemen, don’t do that!” he
exclaimed. ‘‘If you make a fuss here, you

will bring the police into my place, and that |

 

will ruin me. Put up your pistols, for my
sake, and be quiet! If you must fight, there
is plenty of room outside.”

*T don’t care to fight,” replied Martin;
‘but can I allow that young fellow to call
rae a liar?”

“J will take back that word,” said Aglar
to Kehoe, ‘‘if your friend will sit down and
talk to me reasonably.’ J only want to ask
aim a question or two.”

The difficulty was settled in that way, anc
the belligerents resumed their seats.

‘“‘What do you want to know?” gruffly
asked Martin.

‘*T want to say in the first place,” replied
his late antagonist, ‘‘that I had no right to
call you a liar, You may believe that you
were not legally married to my sister, but
had swindled her., If so, you are greatly
mistaken. Ihave taken pains to look into
that matter carefully, and I have proof that
the marriage was a real and legal one, and
that my sister was and is your lawful wife.”

“T suppose you. have a right to your
opinion on that point,” said Martin, with a
sneer. ‘‘I have my opinion, also, But,
supposing the case to be as you put it, what
of it? Does your sister want money of me?”

‘‘No, indeed. If she needéd money, you
are the last person in the world she would

apply to. She only asks you to tell the
truth about one matter. Where is her boy?”
“Her boy?”

“Yes, your son and hers—the child you
stole from her when you deserted her. What
has become of him?”

“‘T believe he is dead,” quietly replied
Martin.

George Aglar made a gesture of impatience,
but repressed his rising anger. \ d

“T must say; Martin Tressell, that you are
even more heartless than I had supposed you
to be. How can you speak so indifferently
on such a subject?” ;

“Do you fancy, young man, that I am
going to bother myself about a brat, whether
it is mine or anybody’s else? I left that kid
in ‘good hands up the river, and a heavy sum
it cost me for his keep, too. He ran away,
as I understand, and shipped on a flatboat
bound for New Orleans. Lately I heard
that he had tumbled overboard in the night,
and was drowned.” :

“How did you learn that?” 4

“T got it by accident from one of the men
on the flatboat, who stopped off here a while
ago.”

«Did you inquire into the matter no fur-
ther?”

“Why should 1? Dead people are dead.

‘Would you expect me to drag the river?”

‘I would expect you to do nothing that

 

Sai as

 

Hip ORS

oe

 
 
 

 

 
 

 

 

 

@ decent white man might do,” angrily re-
plied George Aglar.

“Take care, young fellow. You have
about worn out my patience.”

‘J care nothing about your patience,” said
the young man, as he rose from his seat. ‘‘I
will not trouble you any more at present; but
I am not through with you.”

“You had better make an end of it now.
if you bother me again, you will be likely to
get hurt.”

“You can’t scare me, Martin Tressell. I
will report to my sister what you have said,
and I know how to take up your trail if [
want to find you.”

The young man left the room, and Sam
Martin settled back in-his chair. There was
a shade of annoyance on his swarthy face;
but no trace of a deeper feeling was visible.
His companion sat shuffling the cards in an
absent-minded manner, and made no offer to
renew the game.

“Tt is your deal, Billy,” said Martin, a
little impatiently.

“Yes, Sam, itis my deal, but not in this
game—some other game. Boys, bring us
that black bottle of mine and some glasses.”

Martin looked suspiciously at Kehoe, and
Kehoe looked down at the cards as if he
thought .he might extract an idea from
them.

“What's the matter with you ?” inquired
the former,

«So you are Martin Tressell, and I had
never guessed it.”

“Why should you guess it? Do you be-
lieve what that fellow said?”

“You didn’t deny it, and there is good

‘reason to believe that it is true. Then you

must be the son of the Begum.”

“The Begum? What's that?”

“You know well enough who I mean.
The cranky old woman who goes up and
down the river in a flatboat. She floats
down, then hitches onto a tow and goes back,
and then floats down again. She says she is
looking for her lost son, whose name is Mar-
tin Tressell.”

‘« Mighty small chance to find him in that
style, I should say,” sneered Martin.

‘Not a bit of a chance, if he wants to keep

* out of her way. Why don’t you hitch onto

her, old man?”

“She and I could never get-on together.”

“But she is rtehy they say, and | know
that you often go broke, as youcome up here
and get me tostake you. You might have all
the money you want, if you would make up
with her.”

“You don’t understand the matter at all,”
replied Martin. ‘She would want to kee
me tied to her with a string, and woul

 

Tip Tressell, the Floater. . 9

dribble out the money to me asif I was a
boy. My father, who was the best poker-
player in Mississippi, wasn’t that style. If
he had left me his money, I would have seen
that she was well fixed and wanted for noth-
ing. But he chose to leave it to her, and her
notion was that [ must be kept under. I could-
n’t stand that, and split off from her. I prefer
to be independent, and I have found it easy
enough to get hold of morey. The trouble
is that I can’t keep it. But 1 don’t see what
business this is of yours, Billy Kehoe.”

‘It is only for your good that I am speak-
ing, Sam. Don’t you think there might be
away to get hold of the money without
knocking under to the old woman?”

“Ab! now you are talking. I have a
scheme that is sure to fetch it, or a big part
of it. Do you want to go in wit me and
make a strike?”

“Yes, if itis a soft and safe thing. But
I don’t mean to run my neck into a noose for
any man or any amount of money.”

“This is safe and easy enough,” said
Martin, as he looked at his watch. “I
must go to the post-office just now. I will
come back soon and talk the business over.”

“J will walk with you, Sam.”

CHAPTER V.
SAM MARTIN'S LITTLE GAME.

As Billy Kehoe and his friend passed out
upon the sidewalk, a tall and large man came
down the street, accompanied by a bright-
faced boy who was shining jn new clothes.

The man was Adam Stocker, and the boy
was Tip Tressell.

The two parties stared at each other as
they met, and went their several ways.

“Mighty nice-looking boy, that,” said
Kehoe.

“What of it?” asked Martin, ‘‘There are
plenty such.”

‘J don’t know when IJ have seen such a
bright Jad to look at. If I had a young chap
like that, I could train him up to be the
smartest man along the river. I say, Sam,
there was a look of you in his face.”

* Quite likely. Mine is not an uncommon
atyle of beauty.”

When the two got back to Kehoe’s rooms,
they found nobody there but the colored
man, as it was yet too early in the day for
‘‘business,”” and they resumed their seats,
and proceeded to discuss Martin’s project.

“This scheme of mine,” said that indi-
vidual, ‘‘is as safe as you please, and as easy
as rolling off a log, and you won't have any-
thing to do in the matter to speak of, ex-
cept to furnish a stake. Do you know
where Tunison’s Bayou is, down on the
Louisiana side?”

 

 
10

Tip Tressell,

the Floater.

 

- “No.” |

‘Well, it iseasy enough to find. I have |
got a—what I call a—place, down there.”

** What sort of a place, Sam?”

‘« Well, it is not a camp-meeting, nor yet
a Sunday-school. It is not a plantation,
either. Some folks say that whisky has been |
made there that never paid any tax to the
Government. There are some men about
that place who look up to meas a sort of a
boss; and we have ways of our own of get-
ting hold of money and property.”

“Without asking leave of the owners,
hey? I had a notion, Sam, that you were on
some such lay. Yes, I catch on to the style
of place you mean.”

‘Sometimes, Billy, I call it a fort. Thave
another place near it, in the heart of a cy-
press swamp, to retreat to in time of trouble,
where it would puzzle the devil to track me,
or to get at me if he should find me.”

“Well, and what has that to do with the
Begum business?”

“Everything. You must write to her an
anonymous letter, and get it to her somehow,
telling her that her son Martin is at that
place, and that he is sick and wants to make
friends with her. She will float her ark
down there, and work it up the bayou, and
when I get her there I will capture her and
keep her until she ladles out the ducats.
Then I will pay you all I owe you, and give
you a big bonus besides.”

“How will she find the place?”

“Tell her that about two miles up Tunison
Bayou is a cypress swamp and just beyond
that she will find her sick son,” ;

“Ts that all you want me to do, besides
furnishing the stake?”

“That is all. You can go down there, if
‘you choose, to see how things are getting on
and to make sure that I give you a square
deal.”

“All right, Sam—if you don’t want too
mauch money from me.”

“ Oh, I won’t break you. I have a couple
of men here that I am going to take down
with me, and I must go and look after them.
I will come back here this evening to get the
money, and then will take the first boat
down the river.”

As Sam Martin left the room

he did not see
the malevolent look with which his crony
followed him.

“‘Thave found you out now, you cursed

scoundrel!” muttered Kehoe, ‘‘If I don’t
get even with you this time it will be my
own fault. You think I don’t know that it
‘was you who persuaded my wife to run
away from’ me, and that you have got her
bid somewhere—probably at that infernal

 

den of yours downyonder, I will stake you

in this business, Sam Martin, and will~see
you through it, and when I get even with you
in money matters Iwill have another ac-
count to settle.”

“Marcus,” he said aloud, ‘‘there is noth- -

| ing doing, and you may go out and take a

run if you want to; but be back in an hour,”

«Thank you, Massa Kehoe,”

The colored man, moving noiselessly about
on slippered feet, had hovered near the front
room while George Aglar was there. He
had ranged in the same region when Sam
Martin was disclosing his Tunison Bayou
plot. On each occasion he had listened ea-
gerly to what was said, and at times his eyes
glistened, and the hand that held the dust-
brush twitched nervously.

He hastened to get .ready, and left the
house, walking eg up the street toward
the bluffs. :

When he had gone about half a dozen
blocks, he quickened his steps, and hastened
to overtake a young man who came out of a
gun-store ahead of him, accosting him when
he reached him:

“Massa George! George Aglar!”

The young man turned around, and hesi-
tated, as if not sure that he recognized the
speaker.

“Don’t you know me, Massa George? I’se
Marcus.” Pe ;

George Aglar grasped his hand, and shook
it heartily.

«“ Why, Marcus, 1 am ever so glad to meet
you. J ought to have known you; but it is
so long since I have seen you. Iam glad to
find you looking so ‘well and so prosperous.

“Yes, Massa George, I’se prospuous; but
I nebber forgit de ole times befo’ de wah.
Ole Massa Will’am was allus ee good
to me, and you and I was boys togedder, and
Tnebber mean to go back on de ole stock.
I knowed you, Massa George, as s00n as 1
soteyeson you.”

«What! behind my back?”

“No, sah—to yo’ face. I saw you
in Billy Kehoe’s gamblin’ shop. A
““What were you doing there, Marcus?

“‘Dat’s.my business, sah, I ain't one ob
degamboliers; but I ’tends de bah and works,
around. J listened to w’ot you and Sam
Martin was sayin’, and when I heerd about
Miss Minnie it made me feel alloverish.
was mad enough to shoot dat black-faced
white man right onto de spot.”

“You heard it all, then, Marcus?

“ Mos’ ob it, sah, and since den I’se heerd
somefin’ more. Dat’'s w’ot I want to tell you
about. It’s somefin’ mighty partic’lar.”

“Come with me to my office, Marcus,
where wo will be quiet and out of the way.”

George Aglar led the way up a side strees

to-day

 
Tip Tressell, the Fleater.

11

 

* to a building that bore the sign of «Simon |
& Aglar, Cotton Brokers.” It was closed,
as business hours were over; but he opened
the door with his key, lighted the gas, and
gave the colored man a seat.

¥..-cus proceeded to relate the particulars
of the interview between Billy Kehoe and
Sam Martin, and gave a fair idea of Martin’s
plot to capture his mother and her money.

“This is a very serious matter,” said
Qcorge Aglar. ‘‘I don’t know that it is any
of my business, and if my sister’s son is
really dead she can take no more interest in
ikat man or his people. But something |
ought to be done by somebody to prevent
him from carrying out his villainous scheme.
1 will think of the matter, and will speak to |
Minnie about it, and J am much obliged to
you for bringing me this information.” |

““Ef I\cotch hold ob anyfin’ mo’, Massa

_ George, ll foteh it to you jest as soon as
ebber I ken.” ‘
“That is right, Marcus.

ther’s address.

Here is my mo- |
Minnie and Lare living with

her, and we will all be glad to see you when-
ever you can get a chance to call on us.”

CHAPTER VI.
THE DEAD ALIVE.

Trp TRESSELL made friends with the crew |
of the “Search,” as he would have said,
‘without half trying.” Adam Stocker fell -
in love with the lad at once, Mike Rafferty
adopted him as a comrade, and the colored
cook ‘‘cottoned” tohim. These friendships
might partly be accounted for by the fact
that Tip was the grandson by brevet, if not |
the actual grandson, of the owner of the flat-
boat; but they were mainly due to his good
qualities and “‘ taking” ways.

He had some difficulty in getting hold of
the name of the colored boy, who was
known on the boat as Ganymede. Gany-
mede was a puzzler to Tip, who twisted it
about in various shapes, and finally
‘tackled ” the darky on thé subject.

“That's a queer name of yours,” said he.
**T knew a Silas Mead up the river, who had
a boy named Jim Mead, and another named
Joe; but I never heard of a Ganny Mead. be-
fore.”

“Dat ain’t my real name,” replied the
boy, with a grin. ‘‘My sure nuff name is
Jawge Washin’ton Linkin Grant Muffin.
W’en-I was a leetle chap de w’ite folks
usened to call me Rag Muffin fur short. Ole
Missus Tressell, she calls me Ganymede, an’ |
says it means a waiter. I specks it’s French,
She says it’s Greek; but Mike Rafferty, says
he ort to know a Greek name, an’ dar ain’t

no Greek about it,” |

“Tt is a better name than the long one,
anyhow,” remarked Tip.

*‘Mebbe ’tis; but my mudder orter knowed
wo't she was doin.’ My mudder was a
queen.”

“A queen!” exclaimed Tip.

‘‘A Vaudoo queen, an’ one ob de biggest
kine. My fahder was one ob de common
stock ob niggers, I reckon; but my mudder
was jest ole pecoon. Eberybody was ’feared
ob her, an’ so was I Dat’s w’ot made me
run away, She usened to hab queer fits, and
once she built a big fiah, an’ was gwine to
roast me so’s to fix tings up wid de debbil;
but I slipped onten her grip, an’ den I cut

; an’ run.”

“You got out of that scrape well,
Ganny.”

““Y’se a powerful hand to git out o’ scrapes.
Ef you ebber git inter one, Mass’ Tip, jest
you call on Jawge Washin’ton Linkin Grant

Muffin; an’ I'll gib you a starter.”

Mrs, Tressell, having settled upon Tip as
a grandson, whether provisionally or other-
wise, was not one to make a half-way busi-
ness of it, and she at once set herself at work
to educate him.

She was thorough in everything she under-
took, and in this she wasa little too thorough

; to please the lad. The book lessons were

well enough, though there was rather too

-much of them; but her continual correc-

tions of his speech and manners worried him
no little, and he would greatly have pre-
ferred a free and easy time outside with
Adam Stocker and Mike Rafferty, or even
in the kitchen with Ganymede.

There was a break in this monotony when

_ the ark was brought to the bank at Memphis,
‘and was made
‘ lower end of the city.

fast to the landing at the

The first thing Mrs. Tressell did was to di-
rect Adam+to take Tip ashore and buy him
an outfit of clothing. With her usual
thoroughness she had prepared a memoran-
dum of everthing the lad was to have, in-
cluding the price that was to be paid for
each article,

To Tip this was the biggest kind of a
holiday, far beyond anything he had ever
experienced or imagined. It was the first

' time he had seen a city, and Memphis was a

wonder to him,

‘The clothing stores dazzled him,-and the
articles that were purchased for him made
him open his eyes wide and regard himself
as 4 pig in clover.

When he was fully arrayed ina nice new
suit, Adam Stocker said that he was fully
an inch taller than when he stepped ashore
at Memphis.

Dressed in his new suit, and with his old

 
   

12

Tip Tressel, the Floater.

 

clothes and his other purchases {n bundles, |
he and Adam Stocker set out to return to the |
* Search.”

As they walked down the street they met |
two well-dressed but flashy- looking men,
who had just emerged from a house. - These
men stared at them, and were stared atin
turn. : a

“Those men looked at us mighty straight,
Adam,” said Tip, when they had passed
o

n. :

“Dot vas so. Von of dem look so like
he vant to eat us oop. Dose fellers vas no
got peoples, Tip. Dey vas gay gamboiiers.

ot tall man mit black hair look so like you
as nefer vas, Aber dey makes notting mit
us.
. “Tguess if they see us again they will
know us,” remarked Tip. ‘‘1 will be likely
to know them, too.”

The boy and his big friend were destined

to have a more startling adventure- before
they fot back to the ‘“‘ Search.”
_ Vhey had reached the levee, and were go-
ing southward, when Tip suddenly dropped
the bundle he was carrying, and uttered a
ery of astonishment, if not of terror.

“Vas machst du?” exclaimed the aston-
ished Adam.

At the same time arough-looking man who
‘was approaching them stopped and stared.

“Tv’s him!” shouted Tip,-in utter disre-
gard of Mrs. 'Tressell’s grammatical instruc-
tions, ‘It’s him, and he’s alive!”

The rough-looking man stood and stared,
while the boy ran toward him,

_*Ob, Mr, Siddals! Jesse Siddals! You
ain’t a ghost, are you?”
. hen the rough-looking man took Tip by
both hands, st held him there while he ex-
amined him from head to foot.

““Durned if it ain’t little Tip!” said he,

asa smile spread over his sunburned face.
“Why, Tir, how did you ever get here?”
, ‘How did you ever get here?” replied the
boy. ‘‘ Adam Stocker, this is Jesse Siddals,
the man I told you about, who stood up for
me on that big flatboat, and was shot and
Knocked overboard and drowned.”

“So?” remarked the stolid German,
“Aber he vas so mooch besser as a dead
man already.”

Then he deliberately laid down his bundles,
and shook hands with Siddals.

_ “Tam so glad to see you, Mt. Siddals,”

said Tip, ‘‘I thought sure that you were

dead, and was sorrier than I can tell you,

because you were killed when you were

ses up for me.”

one Do I look like a dead man?” asked Sid-
8,

 

“No. You are all ri t, I shoul é
How did it happen?” . Tigh should pay

‘The fact is, bub, that I wasn’t killed at
all. When that scamp shot at me, I was
standing just at the edge of the boat. The
bullet struck this tough old nut of mine, and
glanced off; but that was enough to tumble
me over. 1 was more startled than/hurt, I
reckon, and I had my wits about me when I
dropped into the water. I then thought that
the dogs would make a finish of me if I
showed up, as they were just that murderous
sort, and that J had better get out of their
way. So I dived up-stream, and when I
bobbed up, the boat was ’way below me.
Then I swam ashore, and in one way and
another I have worked down as far as this,”

‘‘ What are you doing here, Mr. Siddals?”
asked Tip, who felt bound to show respect to
the tall lumberman,

“ve been looking for a job; but jobs in
my line seem to be mae scarce.”

*«Qome with me and I'l] get youa job. I
am so glad that you are alive, and that I ran
across you. I’ll get_you a job right away.
Won't I, Adam?”

“Seems like yon’ve got into a pretty good
job yourself, pe chap,” remarked Sid-
dals, as he suffered Tip to lead him away.

On his way to the ‘‘Search” Tip told the
story of his adventures since he fled from
the broadhorn, and Siddals congratulated
him on his good fortune. :

When they reached the flatboat: Tip ran *

back to Mrs. Tressell’s room, and entered it
without any ceremony.

She put up her glasses to examine him in
his new rig.

“This is what I-may call a transformation
scene,” said she. ‘‘I must say, Tip, that

our new clothes have made a great change
in your looks. Adam has done well; but he
always does well.”

“Oh, the clothes are all right, and I am
ever so much obliged to you for them,” re-
plied the impatient lad. ‘But something
has happened that I want to speak to you
about. Jesse Siddals is alive.» I found him
in the city, and have brought him down here,
and I want you to give him a job.”

“What is that, Tip? I don’t understand
you at all.” a

“T mean that I want you to give him a job
on this flatboat. He is asplendid boatman.”

«But I have no need of aman. My crew
is big enough, and there is no room for
more.” :

“There ought to be room for him, grand-
ma. It is Jesse Siddals, who stood up for
me when I was abused on that big flatboat,
and was shot and drowned. But he swam

ashore, and he has been looking for a job in

Memphis, and he can’t find one.”
“Oh, that man? I had forgotten the
pame. I must see what can be done for

   
 

iteyapboateieinS

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

Tip Tressell,

the Floater. i3

 

him. But your story is badly mixed up,
Tip. Sit down and try to tell it to me plain-
ly, and be careful how you talk.”

Tip told the story of Jesse Siddals’s adven-
ture, and managed to make it intelligible.

Mrs. Tressell requested him to bring in
his friend, and she was much pleased -with
the honest face and straightforward ways of
the tall lumberman.

So Jesse Siddals was engaged as one of the
crew of the ‘‘Search,” and, as he was a
friend of Tip’s, he was at once adopted as a
comrade by the others.

The next morning Mrs. Tressell received a
letter, which ,~vas brought to the boat by a
messenger, and which threw her into a state
of high excitement.

She sent for Tip and Adam Stocker and
Jesse Siddals, and when they were gathered
in her cabin she read this to them:

“Mrs. Exiza TRESSELL:—

“Tf you still want to find your son, Martin Tres-
sell, this is to tell you that you-have gone to work in
the wrong way,and that you are looking in the
wrong part of the country.

“He is now in Louisiana, and is very sick there,
and I am sure that he would be glad to have you go
and bring him away and take care of bim.

“Tf you wish to do so, let your flatboat drop down
to Tunison Bayou. About two miles from the mouth
of the bayou, on the south side is a cypress swamp.
Just beyond the cypress swamp Is the place where
your son lies sick.

“T saw him a few days ago, and did not tell him
that I meant to communicate with you. I write
this merely as A Frrenp To Bors.”

Mrs. Tressell, having called a council of
war to consider this letter, asked the opinion
of the council, though it was evident that
she had made up her mind.

‘“¢We must_start at once,” she said, ‘‘ and
must get there as soon as possible.”

“* Yoost so vell go by dot bayou like any
oder place,” remarked Adam.

Jesse Siddals had no opinion to express,
and Tip was pleased by the prospect cf some-
thing in the shape of an adventure.

“Tt is settled, then,” said the old lady,
‘Adam, do you think you can find Tunison
Bayou?”

The German shook his head. He had not
the remotest idea of the locality.

“T know it, mum, if you please,” said
Siddals. ‘‘I am a tol’able good pilot for the
lower river, so far as flatboating goes.” ‘

“Very well. I will rely upon you to take
the ‘Search ’ there.”

The energetic and impatient old lady could
hardly wait for necessary supplies, and the
flatboat was soon cast loose, and was again
floating on the swift and turbid current of
the Mississippi.

CHAPTER VII.
AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK.
Tum shades of evening were slowly but

 

 

surely covering a broad stretch of the lower
Mississippi when Jesse Siddals, acting as
pilot of the ‘‘Search,” called all hands to
duty. ~

It was not to tack ship, or to reef or furl
sails, as the ark was by no means that kind
of acraft, but to work her in to the Louisiana
shore.

‘The fact is,” said Jesse, ‘‘ that the bayou
we want to reach ain’t easy to find in the
daylight, and 1 doubt if it could be struck at
all in the dark. J reckon we must be nigh it
now, and we don’t want to run by it at
night. So we'll take to the shore, and lay by -
till morning, if it’s agreeable to all.”

It was agreeable to all, and the two men
manned the sweeps, and Mike Rafferty man-
aged the steering-oar, and soon the ark was
moored against the low-lying bank, under
the shadow of immense‘trees that made her
look very small.

When everything had been made ready for
the “ce Jesse and Tip stepped ashore, and
strolled into the forest, to stretch their legs,
and take a look at the locality.

They soon returned with a rather start-
ling tale. They had seen a.-man with a gun
lurking in the forest, and he had dodged out
of sight and disappeared when they advanced
toward him and hailed him. ;

A council of war was called, and the cir-
cumstance was considered a serious one.

The man might have been a hunter, who
was looking for coons or some other night
game; but in that case he would probably
have had a dog, and would not have sneaked
away as he did. :

His presence there and his actions were re-
garded as highly suspicious.

“This is a queer country, mum,” said
Siddals, ‘‘and there’s no telling what may
turn up about here, We ought to be ready
for ’mcat anything,”

“Had we not better leave this "place, and
go ot down the river?” asked Mrs, Tres-
sell. \

“‘T am afraid that would be a bad scheme,
mum. We might miss the bayou, and then
it would be a hard job to work up.”

“Very well. / We ean fight if we must.
Adam, open the long chest, and examine the
arms.” f

The ‘‘Search” proved to be well provided
with weapons and munitions of war. There
were three brecch-loading rifles, four revol-
vers, and plenty of cartridges. She needed
only to be ‘‘tin clad” to take rank as a naval
vessel.

Adam Stocker took one of the rifles, and
Jesse Siddals' took another. The Irish lad

ossessed himself of the third, but handled
it so gingerly and awkwardly that it was

 
   

a4

Tip Tresseil, the Floater.

 

easy to see that he was unaccustomed to the
use of fire-arms. ;

“Tip was brought up in the woods,” sug-
gested Mrs, Tressell. ‘‘ Perhaps he knows
how to use a rifle.”

. You can just bet I do,” replied Tip. ‘‘I
can shoot as straight as most folks.”

So Tip was given one of the rifles, and
Mike contented himself with a revolver.

The arrangements for the defense of the

ark having been completed, it was decided |

that it was not necessary for the entire crew
to keep awake, as the danger might be mere-
ly imaginary. Siddals and Mike were de-
tailed to keep watch, and the others laid
down to sleep.

It was not until three hours after midnight
that the sleepers,were aroused.

The watchers liad seen more than one dark
object moving about. in the forest, and it was
believed that a crisis was at hand.

The river was at such a high stage that
the water was nearly level with the top of
the bank, and the body of the ark overlooked

the flat land that was covered by the virgin !

forest.

There was a bit of a moon shining, enough
to distribute streaks of uncertain light among
the trees, and all was quiet, except for the
rippling of the water and the hum of ingects.

Mrs. Tressell, who was in all respects and
on all occasions the commander of the craft,
assigned the crew to their stations, placing
Jesse Siddals at the upper end of the boat,
and Adam Stocker at the lower end, and
Mike and Tip at the two windows in the
men’s sleeping-room and the kitchen.

For her part she stationed herself, with a
revolver in her hand, near the window of her
cabin, although strongly entreated to allow
herself to to be protected by a barricade.

As Tip entered the kitchen to take his sta-
tion, he perceived that Ganymede had on the
fire a large boiler full of water, which was
already bubbling and steaming.

He did not stop to ask the meaning of this
preparation, as his attention was immediately
absorbed by the events outside.

From his window he could see several
dark forms in the forest, skulking-from tree
to tree, and gradually approaching the ark.

Then he heard the stentorian voice of
Jesse Siddals, ringing far into the depths of
the forest.

“‘Who goes there?” shouted the tall lum-
berman,

The skulking ceased, and there was silence
for a minute or so before an answering hail
came back, .

“Hello, the boat!”

‘*Hello yourself!” replied Siddals. ‘‘ Who
are you, and whatdo you want?” :

 

 

“We want that boat and what’s aboard of
it. Let the men-folks come ashore and throw
up their hands, and they won't be hurt. If
they don’t do it, they'll be apt to come up
missin’.”

Jesse Siddals shouted, back his defiance.

“Tf you want anything on this boat, you
dirty rascals, you'll have to come and take
it »”

There was silence again, and after a few
minutes the skulking recommenced.
Then there was a shot from the shore, evi-
dently fired at Siddals’s end of the boat, and
he quickly answered it with his rifle.
Then Stocker fired from his end, and sev-
eral shots came from behind the two, the bul-
lets crashing into and through the woodwork
of the ark,
Tip, resting his rifle on the sill of his
window, drew a bead on one of the skulkers,
and fired.
As he paused to watch the effect of his
shot, Jesse Siddals agaih shouted:
“Look out! They’re coming!”
Tip was about ‘to fire another shot, when
Mrs. Tressell called him,
He turned, and saw that energetic old
lady standing near the stove, with a revolver
in her right hand. ;
_ On the floor was a queer-looking machine
swith two long handles, from which projected
apiece of hose, and Mike Rafferty was ap-
proaching the window with a brass pipe at-
tached to the hose. ’

_ “Take hold of the pump with Ganymede,
while Mike works the nozzle,” ordered the
old lady. ‘‘ Be quick, now!”

Tip jumped to the work, and hastened to
imitate the action of thecolored boy. They
moved the handles rapidly up and down,
oe by the sharp yells of Mike Raf-
ferty, who was holding a rubber stopper at
the nozzle of the pipe.

‘Jerk her down, boys! Jump her, now!
Ah, the dirthy riptyles, the salvages! Be
jabers, won’t they ketch it, though!”

Tip heard the reports .of Siddals’s and
Stocker’s rifles, mingled with a general vol-
ley. from the shore, and then achorus of
shouts that seemed to sound at the very edge
of the bank,

_The two boys worked the pump more
vigorously than ever, Mike jerked the stop,
per from the end of the pipe, and the hissing
of a stream of boiling water followed.

The next moment the shouts without were
changed to screams of pain and yells of dis-
may. Siddals and Stocker shouted in tri-
umph and derision, and fired their rifles at
an evidently retreating foe, ;

‘That will do, boys—stop pumping!’
ordered Mrs, Tressell. ‘‘How is it, Mike?”

‘

 

 

 

 

j
\
- Ee

 
 

‘anche, :

 

2 epee entree.

eS

Tip Tressell,

the Floater. 16

 

. “AN right, mum. Be ger it stopped
jist in time. This blissid pipe was nigh
urnin’ the fingers off of me.”

As a matter of fact the coast was clear.
The enemy had decamped, and Stocker and
Siddals came in to receive the congratula-
tions of the commander on the successful de-
fense of the ark.

“Tt was the hot wather that did it,” in-
sisted Mike.

‘Yes, it was the hot water that did it,”
said Siddals, as he proceeded to give an ac-
count of the discomfiture of their assailants.

About a dozen men, as well as he could
judge, had come running out of the woods,
and had nearly reached the boat when Mike
turned on them a stream of boiling water,
directing his pipe all along their line.

The effect was instantaneous. Blinded
and scalded by this unexpected style of. at-
tack, they had turned and fied, ene
over each other in their haste to get out o
the way.

It was not expected that they would re-
turn; but the crew kept an armed watch un-
til daylight, when they went ashore to ex-
amine the scene of the assault.

They found the foliage of the trees and

‘‘What do you mean by a game?” asked
the old‘lady.

“T’ve-a notion that somebody has been
putting up.a job against you. You are said
to be rich, mum, and of course plenty of
people would be glad to get hold of your
money. The letter you got at Memphis,
which sent you down here, may have been
part of the game.” j

“IT fail to see what reason you have for
this suspicion,” remarked Mrs. Tressell.

“This is a queer country, mum; but the
queerest thing I know about it is what hap-
pened to us last night. It just gets me for
all Iam worth to think that those scamps
should have been on hand in that lonesome
place, and in the night time, ready to snap
us up when we struck the shore. Another
p’int, if you please, mum. When they hailed
the boat they told us that if the men-folks
would come ashore and throw up their hands
they wouldn’t be hurt. . Why did they speak
| of men-folks unless they had women-folks in
their thoughts? And the women-folks means
| you, mum. They must have known that
| you were there.”
| “That is quite likely, Mr. Siddals. The
‘Search’ is pretty well known along the

 

shrubs withered by the stream of boiling river, and perhaps those scoundrels saw her
water, and found a few spots and patches of : as she floated down, and got ready for an at-/
blood on the ground; but if there were any tempt to capture and rob her. But I see no
killed or wounded, they had been carried , reason.to suppose that the job was put up,

away by their friends. |

“Faith, now,” said Mike, ‘if we come,
across any’ min about here that’s scalded, |
we'll know what’s the matther wid thim,”

Mrs. Tressell smiled a grim smile, and gave |
orders for continuing the voyage.

As soon as breakfast was over the ark was
unmoored, and proceeded to drop down the.
river.

 

CHAPTER VIII. i
THE VOUDOO QUEEN.

Juss Srppas had no difficulty in locatin;
Tunison’s Bayou in the daylight. It prove
to be about a mile below the spot where the
attack was made upon the ark, and it was a
narrow inlet, though sufficiently wide for
the ‘“Search” to use her sweeps. At places
it broadened out into quite a lake, and
there was no current, the usually sluggish
water of the bayou being backed up by the
river. i

As the ark entered this inlet Siddals made
Tip take him into Mrs, Tregsell’s cabin, as he

/ wished to havea serious talk with her.

“Tam willing to go anywhere you want
me to go, mum,” said he, ‘“‘and to do the
best I can in any kind of a scrape; but [
am afraid that there is a game in this busi-
ness,” : i

| wants to back out, well and

as you say, in advance of our appearance in
this part of the river.” :

“J can’t get it out of my head, mum, that
it was you they meant to go for.”

“Very well; I must take some risks. One
thing is certain, that I can afford to miss no
ohance of finding my son. If heishere, and
especially if he is sick, I must see him, and
nothing shall stand in my way. If any man
ood. ‘Those
who stand by me will lose nothing by it.”

Jesse Siddals returned to the roof of the
ark, and he and Adam Stocker worked the
sweeps, while Mike Rafferty managed the
steering-oar, and Tip, proud of the posses-
sion of a repeating-rifle, stationed himself at
os forward part of the craft, to look out for

oes.

But, no foes were encountered, and the
“Search” had a quiet and uneventful pas-
rage up the bayou.

About two miles from the mouth, as the
anonymous letter to Mrs, Tressell had stated,
a large cypress swamp was passed. The
tall.and dark trees, heavily draped with Span-
ish moss, presented a weird and funereal ap-
pearance, and the land which the forest occu-
pied was at that stage of the river nearly coy-
ered with water.

Beyond the cypress swamp the land was

 
16 Tip Tressel,

the Floater.

 

somewhat higher, and a considerable portion
of it was cleared, and had once been culti-
vated, but at the time of the ark’s visit it
was mostly overgrown with weeds and sedge-
grass and bushes. About half a mile from
the shore a dilapidated log-house was visible.

Mrs. Tressell was anxious to send out scouts
at once to search for her son, but as night
was coming on the others objected, and she
consented to wait until morning.

Tbe boat was moored against the low bank,
and all retired to rest except Adam Stocker,
who kept guard with his rifle.

Early the next morning Tip was in the
kitchen, where Ganymede was starting the
fire for breakfast.

The black boy was unusually quiet, and
had such a serious and scared look on his
face that Tip asked him what wong? matter.

“ Dis is a mighty skeery place, Mass’ Tip,”
he replied, ‘‘I know dis place just as well
as I wanter. Do ole home w’ot I runned
away from w’en my mudder was gwine to
toast me was nigh yar. I wish de missus
would hurry an’ git away from dis place.
Please dror dat curtain, Mass’ Tip. can’t
b’ar to look out dar.”

Tip began to believe that this voyage in
the “Search” would be productive of some
lively adventures; but his further reflections
on that subject were interrupted by a call
from Mrs. Tressell’s cabin.

Mike Rafferty had found, fastened to the
wood at the forward end of the ark, a-letter
addressed to Mrs. Tressell. Sle had opened
and read it, and had called a council of war
to consider it.

Adam Stocker declared that he hed kept
a careful watch through the night, without
once closing his eyes, and that no person
could have approached the boat near enough
to leave such a missive; but it was there,
however it got there.

The old lady, who had her full share of
acuteness as well as of energy, said thatit
was written in a disguised hand; but that
did not appear to be a point of any real im-
portance,

It was in these words:

“Mrs, Exiza TREssELL:—

“Tf you wish to see your sick son, Martin Tressell,
apply to Rose Michon, the EES ee a mile up
the old Woodville road, and you will learn where to
find him.” :

There was no signature, and the writer
was as much a mystery as the means by
which the letter had reached the boat.

“I don’t like the looks of it, mum,” said
Jesse Siddals, ‘‘If the man who wrote that

was an honest man, why didn’t he sign his
name to it?”
‘“‘There is nothing in that,” replied the old
dy. ‘As the writer is probably a person

 

 

with whom I am unacquainted, his namé
would be of no use to me. I must send a

messenger to that woman, and who will go?””

“‘T willl” eagerly exclaimed Tip, excited
at the prospect of an adventure.

“You will? Well, Tip, I don’t know why
you should not go, if you want to. You
are big enough and smart enough to take
care of yourself. But can you find the
place?” ;

“JT will take Ganymede to help me find it.
He knows the country about here.”

“‘He does? That is queer. He shall go
with you, then, You may take a pistol if
you choose, Tip. Tell the woman to come
down to the boat, and that I will pay her well
for her time.”

Tip hastened to the kitchen, and explained
to Ganymede what was required of him/

The cook was quite dismayed at being
called upon for such a mission.

** You ortn’t to done that, Mass’ Tip,” he

rotested. ‘‘ You know how deadly skeered
oie 0’ this place.”

“Oh, there is nothing to be afraid of.
Nobody will hurt you. I will take care of

ou.”
“Specks I’ll hab to take keer o’ myseff
some, too. But I s’pose I’se got to go, an’
thar’s no use waitin’.”

When they were ashore and on the way
the colored boy went forward briskly enough,
though he was evidently keeping a sharp
lookout for danger.

“If you are so afraid of this place, Gan,
why did you come with me?” asked Tip.

“Oh, T’se bound to go wharebber ole
missus says, eben if it’s to go an’ git roastid.
But I don’t allow to git roastid, Mass’ Tip.
Dll show you de house, an’ den I'll hide till
you comes back.”

“Allright. I ain’t afraid.”

They easily found the “old Woodville
road,” though it was scarcely entitled any
longer to be called a road.’ Itled from what
had once been a landing back into the coun-
try, but was so grown up with weeds and
bushes that wagons would have difficulty in
traversing it, if any should stray that way.

About a mile up this road they came in
sight of a dilapidated frame house, and there
Ganymede stopped.

“*Dar’s de house, Mass’ Tip,” said he,
“You ken jess go right on, an’ I’ll hide yer
in de bushes.”

He hastened to conceal himself in a thicket
at the right, and Tip, not a bit dismayed,
trudged on until he reached the house.

In the palmy days ‘‘befo’ de wah” it
must have been the farm-house that con-
‘trolled all the cultivated land in that vicinity;
but there was no longer any cultivated land,

   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
   
   
    
   
  
   
   
  
 

|
L
h

  
 

 

i
i
{

te os

Tip Tressell,

cen

the Floater. i?

 

and there was moshing about the premises
to suggest farming. It was, indeed, as di-
lapidated, gone-to-seed, shiftless and woebe-
gone a tenement as could be imagined. The
front porch had fallen in, the wildows were
stuffed with rags and old hats, and the only
sign of life was a forlorn yellow dog, which
set up a howl as Tip approached the door.

He knocked vigorously, but no.one came
to let him in.

At last a harsh and snarling voice hailed
him from within.

“Come in, then! Why don’t you come
in, ’stead 0’ knockin’ thar like a durned
fool?”

He pushed open the door, and entered,
finding himself in a large room whose
slovenly appearance well suited the dilapi-
dated house.

In one corner was a tumble-down bed. In
the center was a rickety table on which
were a greasy pack of cards and a battered
coffee-pot. A slow fire was burning on the
hearth, over which a pot was simmering full
of something that gave out a strange and un-
pleasant odor.

Near the fire was seated a mulatto woman,
neither young nor old, dressed in a faded
calico of the Dolly Varden pattern, and in a
corner was a man with his back to the door,
who seemed to be figuring in a blank book.

An enormous black cat sat on its haunches
near the woman, and on the other side of the
fire-place was a large and ugly snake, lap-
ping with its forked tongue in a basin of
milk.

As soon as Tip saw the snake he jumped
upon the only chair in the room that had
four legs.

‘‘What's the matter wid you?” snarled
the woman.

‘J don’t like snakes,” replied Tip.

‘*That shows how little sense yo’ got,”
said she, as she rose and, picked up the rep-
tile. She resumed her seat, and the snake
coiled up contentedly on her-lap, while she
smoothed-and patted it.

Tip, who wanted to get away from the
make, hastened to deliver his message, say-
ing that he had come from Mrs. Tressell,
who was in a boat down yonder, and who
had received a letter telling her to apply to
Rose Michon, the Voudoo Queen, for news
of her son, Martin Tressell.

As he said this, the man in the corner
looked around quickly, and Tip was sure
that he had seen that long black hair and
that swarthy face before. Yes, he remem-
bered the very spot in Memphis where he
had seen that man.

“What does she want me to do?” snarled
the wonian,

** She wants you to come down to the boat,
and she will pay you well for your time and
trouble.”

The woman sneered, and there was a wild,
malevolent look in her face that made the
lad shudder.

‘Tell that white woman,” said she, ‘that
Rose Michon never stirs out of her tracks for
any man or woman, rich or poor. If she
wants to see me, she must come here,”

Tip backed out of the door, glad to get
away from that nightmare of a place; but
he was followed by the man who had been
seated in the corner, who laid a hand on his
shoulder as he stepped outside,

“‘T say, young chap,” said this individual,
“what might your name be?”

“* Beeswax,” shortly replied Tip. :

“It seemsto me, Beeswax, that I’ve seen
you somewhere before.”

‘Like enough. I’ve been there.”

‘ve a notion, Beeswax, that you are just
alittle bit too sharp.”

“My name ain’t Beeswax,” said Tip,
edging away.

“ You told me it was Beeswax.”

“T didn’t. You asked me what my uame-
might be, and it might be Beeswax, but it
ain’t.”

By this time he was well out of the reach
of his questioner, and he walked’ briskly
away, with an air of perfect independence.

CHAPTER IX.
MARTIN TRESSELL’S TRAP.

Wuen Tip reached the thicket, Ganymede
crawled out and joined him.

‘Golly, Mass’ Tip,” said the colored lad,
“Tm mighty glad-you got out o’ dat place
widout gittin’ roastid.”

“They didn’t roast me, and they didn’t
o me,” replied Tip; ‘‘but I was worried a

ew.”

Then he related his adventures, not for-
getting the snake that was so much at home
in the house.

‘*Dat’s jess like my mudder,” said Gany-
mede. ‘‘She was allus habbin’ snakes an’
skeery things about, She calls herself Rose
Michon; but her ‘sure ’nuff name is Phebe
Muffin. I’se mighty glad, Mass’ Tip, dat
you didn’t git roastid.” 3

“J ain’t afraid of that.. But it made me
mad when she said that grandma must come
and see her.”

“Dar ain’t no fun in dat, sho’; but ole
missus "ll be mighty apt to do it.”

Ganymede was right in his conjecture, As
soon as Tip had reached the ark and told his
story, Mrs, Tressell declared her intention of

 

 

going to visit the Youdoo Queen.

 
 

   

   

13 Tip Tressell, the Floater.

 

«* We must not be afraid of snakes, Tip,”
she said. ‘‘The snake you saw was a harm-
less one, no doubt, or the woman would not
have kept it there. Isee no danger, and I
am bound to go wherever there is a chance
of poems a son.”

Jesse Siddals, the chronic objector, ob-
jected strongly to this determination, saying
that the fact that Tip had seen at Rose
Michon’s house a man whom he had met at
Memphis was a suspicious circumstance, in-
dicating a put-up job.

‘‘Dot man was vat you call a bad sort
too,” said Adam, who remembered the Mem-
phis encounter.

“You are too full of- your suspicions,
friend Siddals,” she replied. ‘‘I am search-
ing for my son, and must leave no means un-
tried that may help me to find him.”

She put on her hat, placed a revolver in her
pocket, and sallied forth with Tip, after di-
peng the others to remain and guard the

oat.

All was silent at the old. house occupied by
the Voudoo Queen, except the doleful howl

- of the lean yellow dog.

“This looks like the last days of a played-
out plantation,” said Mrs, Tressell, as they
approached the door.

Tip knocked at the door again, and again
a harsh and snarling voice bade him enter.

He pushed the door open and they stepped
into the slovenly, dirty room.

The pot had been removed from the fire-
place and was simmering over a furnace in
the middle of the floor, sending forth the
same strange and unpleasant odor that had
disgusted the lad in the morning.

A young alligator, stuffed, was on the
dirty mantle, and about the walls were sev-
eral hideous objects which Tip had not pre-
viously seen there. s

The man who had been seated in a corner
in the morning, with his back to the door,
was not in the room, and Tip did not regret
his absence. The mulatto woman was there,
though, and coiled in her Jap was the same
ugly snake, and her hair was arranged more
fantastically than before, and there wasa yet

* wilder gleam im her wicked eyes.

“«You are here, then,” she said, as the ol
lady seated herself on a rickety chair. ‘‘If

ou had not come my charms would have
he ie you.”

“It is enough that I am here,” quietly re-
plied Mrs. Tressell. ‘‘I received a note this

morning saying that you can tell me where

$o find my son, Martin Tressell. If you will
nae t information I will pay you well
or it,
“I can show him to you,” replied the
priestess of the Youdoo rites,

 

“How's that? Is he here?”

‘No; but I can show him to you, if you
will pay for the sight.”

The mulatto woman rose from her seat,
placed the snake on some rags at the side of
the fireplace, where it coiled up quietly,
stepped to the furnace and threw a powder
on the coals.

A dense smoke rose up, diffusing through
the room a fragrance that overcame the un-
pleasant odor of the pot.

“What do you mean by that?” sharply
asked Mrs, Tressell.

«TI must call up Nyunga, and then I will

show you Martin Tressell, just where he is:

and as he is.” ‘

‘‘Bah!” exclaimed the fearless old lady.
“T want none of your mummeries, do not
believe in your witchcraft, and am not afraid
of any charms you can work, If you know
where my son is tell me and I will pay you.
That is all I have to do with you.”

Rose Michon darted a spiteful glance at
Mrs, Tressell.

‘“You had better not laugh at me,” she
said. ‘‘Ican do you more harm than you
think.”

“T am not laughing at you. I have come

here on business, and have nothing to do

with anything outside of the business that
brought me here. Tell me where I am to
find my son, and I will pay you for that.’

“‘Go on, then, if you will. I wanted to
show him to you as he is, and then you
might have been satisfied; but you are too
hard-headed. Go back down the road until
you come in sight of the old log house that
you can see from your boat. ‘Then cross the
old field to that house. You will find Mar-
tin. Tressell there.”

“Now I understand you. What shall I
pay you for this?”

“Yen dollars,” replied the woman, hold-
ing out her hand.

“I will give you five dollars now, and will
send you more if I find that you have told
me the truth. Come, Tip.” \

Mrs. Tressell walked to the door, followed
by Tip, but bad no sooner stepped outside
than she was confronted by four men, who
had evidently been lying in wait at the side
of the house.

One of the four was the tall and swarthy

man whom Tip had seen at Memphis, and -

had again met that morning. : 3
At sight of this man the old lady uttered a
cry; but one of his comrades threw a cloth
over her head, and two others seized and
held her.
Tip understood the trap at a glance, and
perceived that flight was his only chance,
“ Turning quickly he saw that the back

     
  

 

 

 
   
  
  
   
   
  

     
 

 

 

i

Pip Tressell, the Floater. 19

 

door of the room was open, and darted |

through it.

Finding nothing in the shape of a stone
the man picked up a heavy fragment of

He was then in an abandoned room that | wood, and dropped it into the well.

had once been a kitchen. The doors were
closed, but a window was wide open—or,
rather, the window had entirely disappeared
from the opening.

Tip heard a shout cf ‘‘Catch the boy!”
and the heavy steps of men in the house, and
he jumped out.

e didnot alight on the ground as he had
expected to, but crashed through some
foliage, and went down, down, until he
struckewater.

Into the water he went, over head and ears,
but touched bottom, and soon perceived that
by standing upright he could keep his head
out of the wet.

It was clear that he had fallen into an old
well, and fwrtunately for him it was not
deep, and was but partly filled with water.

Locking upward he saw the foliage
through which he had dropped, and knew
that the mouth of the well was covered with
a heavy growth of bushes and vines. This,
he hoped, might screen him from the search
of his pursuers.

But he heard the voices of the men in the
room he had just left, cursing and wonder-
ing what had become of him.

After a brief search in the house they
dashed a door open, came out, and looked
across the old field to the thicket in which
Ganymede had hid, but saw nothing of the
fugitive. ae

“Curse that boy!” exclaimed one. ‘‘ We
were fools to grab the old woman before he
came out. Hedidn’t hide in the house, and
where the —— has he gone to?”

“ He couldn’t have reached the brush yon-
der by this time,” said another.

“ Of course he couldn’t, Perhaps he ran
around the house.”

Search was made in that direction, but |

without avail, and the men came back to the
window.

One of them felt among the tangled vines
and bushes, and discovered the mouth of the
old well.

“ Here’s a well, Dawe,” said he.
the young cuss jumped out of the window,
and tumbled in here.” \

“Let me look.”

Tip felt that the crisis had come, and that
his only hope was in hiding.

As soon as he heard 4 rustling above him,
he ducked his head under the water, and
held his breath.

“*T don’t see nothin’ of him,” said the man
above. ‘‘It don’t look as if he had dropped
in here.”

“Let me pitch a rock in,” said the other. —

«Maybe.

| It struck the water with a big splash, near

| the boy’s head.

| ‘‘He ain’t thar,” said the man who had

| thrown it. ‘If he went in thar, he’s drown-
ed afore now. Come along, Dave.”

Tip raised his head out of the water, and
| rejoiced in a long breath; but he waited
| twenty minutes or more before he climbed to
the mouth of the well.

It was then near the end of twilight, and
the darkness was falling rapidly. >

Seeing nobody about, he crawled out of
the bushes, and ran as fast as his dripping
clothes would allow him to run to the thicket
down the road.

CHAPTER X.
BILLY KEHOH DISCOMFITED.

“Martin! my son Martin!” was the ex-
clamation that was stifled on Mrs. Tressell’s
lips as the cloth was thrown over her head.

She was so nearly smothered that it was
with difficulty she could breathe. Much less
could she speak, and she kept silence, held
by two of the men, while two went in pursuit
of Tip.

She heard their shouts and curses as they
followed and searched for the boy, and she
trembled with fear for what might happen te
him.

’ After a while they returned, and her fears
were not allayed by the report they made.

‘“‘T reckon that youngster has gone under,”
said one cf them. ‘‘It seems like he jumped
out of a window and into an old well, and
he must ha’ drownded thar.”

“We needn’t worry about him,” said the
swarthy man. ‘‘ We will be safely out of
the way pretty soon. Come along, boys.”

But they could not come just then.

Mrs, Tressell, stout and fearless as she
was, had fainted when she heard of Tip’s
disaster, and was a dead weight on their
hands,

Their leader uttered an angry oath as they
lowered her to the ground, and called for
water, and sent one of the men running up
the road.

The old lady had hardly been brought to
her senses when the man returned with a
wagon drawn by two mules, and a led sad-
dle horse. i

Still scarcely conscious, she was lifted into
the wagon, which was driven away, pre-
ceded by the leader of her captors on horse-
back.

Mrs. Tressell was held and supported by
two of the men, while another drove the

 

 

 
 

 

\

20

‘ip Tressel, the Floater.

  

 

team up the road until it reached an old
farm road, where it turned off to the left,
following the horseman.

Carefully the saddle horse and the mules
picked their way through the somewhat
swampy ground, down to the old log-house
that was visible from the ark in the bayou.

Night had been coming on since they left
the house of the Voudoo Queen, and it was
dark when aber got to the old log-house.

Mrs. Tressell had quite recovered her
senses, if not her strength, by this time. She
was assisted to alight from the wagon, and
was led into the house.

She found herself in a large room, unfur
nished, unless a rude bench, and a few
blankets in one corner, might be called fur-
niture.

Three of her captors accompanied her into
this room, and one of them was the tall and
swarthy man who had acted as leader. As
the room was quite dark, he struck a match,
and lighted a wick that was floating in a
gourd cup full of grease.

Up to this time the old lady had not
rooken. The three separate shocks of her

apture, of the recognition of her son, and
of the report of Tip’s death in the well, had
confused and almost stunned her, and she
did not attempt to struggle against the
destiny which was carrying her on to a fate
that she could not guess at.

But now she steadied herself against the
log wall of the room, and fixed her piercing
eyes upon the man who had just lighted the
grease lamp.

“Martin Tressell,” she said, solemnly and
impressively, ‘‘ what does this mean?”

“Tt means business, old lady, and nothing
but business,”

** Have I sought for you all these years, to
be treated in this way? Have I been de-
ceived by a false report of your sickness, to
beled into a trap? Why have you brought
me here?”

“ Dortt you worry about that. You will
find out soon enough, I mean business, I
tell you.”

“You had better be careful, Martin Tres-
sell, You are committing a crime; and one
(rime leads to another.”

“Tt may, if I am worried. Look after
ler, boys. I can’t stay here and listen to
that racket.”

Martin Tressell hurried out of the room,
and passed into another apartment. The
log-house was what is known as a double
house, with two rooms on the ground floor
separated by a wide and open passage, and
two rooms above.

In the room across the passage a man was
impatiently pacing the rough floor, frown-

ing and muttering to himself. It was Billy ~
Kehoe, the Memphis ee

He looked up quickly as Martin Tressell
entered, and forced a smile into his frowning
face.

‘‘Well, Tressell, have you got her?” he
asked.

“Yes, she is here, safe enough.”

“‘ What are you going todo with her? Do
you mean to keep her in this house?”

“No. I don’t want to keep her even to-
night, as it is too near that cursed flatboat.
But it is as dark as pitch, and I don’t believe
anybody will try to worry us just yet. But
a boy who was with her got away, if he
wasn’t killed; and anyhow they will be likely
to bring the country down on us to-morrow.
So I must slip her off into the swamp as soon
as there islightenough. Whatdo you think,
Billy?—the boy was the same fellow me met
in Memphis—the one you stared at so, and
spoke of as having such a bright face.”

“‘That’s queer. How does the old lady
take it, Martin? Is she at all docile?”

“‘Not much. She is going to cut up rusty
and will give me all the trouble she can.
But I will bring her to terms before I get
through with her.”

‘‘Of course, you must get her away from
here as soon as you can. I will go to the
swamp with you in the morning, Martin.”

Martin Tressell’s face changed, and the
look that came into it boded no good to his
companion,

‘© You will?” he replied, with a sneer. ‘‘I
guess not.”

‘« What do you mean by ‘guess not’?”

“I mean that you won’t do anything of the
sort. J am not going to give away the secret
of my place to anybody outside of my own
crowd, who know better than to betray me.”

‘‘Am I not a partner in this business?”

‘‘A sort of a partner. I told you that
when I brought the old lady to terms I would
pay you all I owe you, and give you a big
bonus besides. That is all you have to do
with the matter. You may goback to Mem-
phis, or go where you please, but you don’t
go with me. You were considerable of a
circumstance in Memphis, but down here you
Aion’t amount to a row of pins. I am the
boss here, and my word is law.”

“So you-say; but [am going to the swamp
with you when you go.” :

“You are just as much mistaken, Billy
Kehoe, as if you had cut off your toe for a
soft corn.”

Martin Tressell left. the room. In each
part of the house he had been met by words

 

|

| that worried him, and he objected to being
worried,
After ascertaining that his mother was well

|

  
 

 

Tip Tressell, the Floater. 21

 

guarded and cared for he wrapped himself in
a blanket and laid down in a passage, with a
rifle by his side.

He was astir as soon as the gray light of
dawn was seen in the sky, and ordered the
inules to be hitched to the wagon.

This was soon done, and Mrs. Tressel, who
refused to enter the vehicle, was lifted in,
silent but stubborn, her very silence portend-
ing a tough resistance to the plans of her
lawless son.

Martin Tressell was about to mount his
horse when Kehoe came out from the house.

 

‘Can you make room for me in the
wagon?” he asked, “‘or will I have to go
afoot?”

“You don’t go. with this party, either in
the wagon or afoot,” replied Martin. “TI
ae you last night that you couldn’t do
that.”

“But I mean to go with you, all the
same.”

“‘1 see that you want to make trouble, and
that I can’t allow.”

As Martin spoke, he drew nearer to theman
from Memphis.

Suddenly he seized him by the collar, and
with a jerk and a dexterous trip threw him
on the ground.

He spoke to one of his comrades, who
came to his assistance, and the two bound
the prostrate man’s hands behind his back,
and his feet at the ankles. >

“‘Take him inside,” ordered the leader,
and he was carried into the house and de-
posited on the pile of blankets in the room
that Mrs. Tressell had occupied.

“You will have to admit that I am the
boss here,” said Martin, surveying his help-
less captive.

“J will get even with you for this, you
scoundrel!” exclaimed Kehoe, gritting his
teeth.

“* Get even with your grandmother! Take
it as easy as you can, Billy.. Some of us will
turn you loose after a while, if nobody else
comes along to do it.”

Martin Tressell mounted his horse and
rode away, followed by the wagon.

They went direct to the cypress swamp,
reaching its somber sHade just as dawn was
beginning to break in the eastern sky.

‘he leader directed one of the men to
drive off with the wagon and the saddle
horse, and with the other three he proposed
to penetrate the swamp.

Mrs. Tressell refused to stir a step; but
this contingency had been provided against.
With two stout pes and a blanket a
stretcher was quickly made. On this the old
lady was placed, and was carried by two
men, 5

 

The son whom she had so long sought, and
had found to her sorrow, led the way into
the depths of the swamp,

CHAPTER XI. 4
FINDING AN UNCLE.

Ir was quite dark when Tip reached the
flatboat, tired, wet, bruised, and disconso-
late; but all the crew were watching and
waiting for him, and they came forward to
meet him,

‘‘What's the matter, Tip?” asked Jesse
Siddals. ‘* What kept aon so long? Why,
bar poe are all wet. here is Mrs. Tres-
sell?”

2 “She’s been carried off,” sadly replied

ip.
“Carried off? What do you mean? Tell
us all about it.”

But the lad was nearly used up. He was
taken into the boat, where he was supplied
with dry clothes, and Ganymede gave him a
cup of coffee, and he told his story by
snatches.

“That is just what I was afraid of, and
just what I warned the old lady against,”
said Siddals. ‘‘But she is so hard-headed
that she won’t take advice. It is: plain
enough now that the job was put up in
Memphis, and I reckon that the son she has
been lookin’ for, was the man who had put

‘That tall man with the dark face and
black hair was the boss of the gang,” re-
marked Tip. ‘‘He was the same man that I
saw there in the morning, and the same man
that Adam and I met in Memphis. I wonder
if he is my dad?”

“It is quite likely that he is, Tip, and you
have no cause to be proud of him.’

“‘T don’t seem to be fretting after him; but
I am badly worried about grandma,”

What should be done to get Mrs. Tressell
out of the trap into which she had fallen,
was the immediate question at issue, and it
puzzled the wits of the crew of the
“Search.”

It was agreed that nothing could be ac-
complished that night, as it was so dark that
they could hardly see their hands before
them, and they could only discuss plans of
action for the morning.

Tip could give no idea of the manner in
which the old lady had been carried away, or
of the direction which her captors had taken,
as he was at the bottom of the well when
they left the house. :

‘But that yellow woman knows,” said he,
“and we must make her tell us.”

This suited Jesse Siddals exactly, and he
et that they should “string up” Rose
ig until thev extorted a confession from

 

 
#2

Tip Tressell, the Floater.

 

**Noy no!” exclaimed Ganymede. ‘Yo’
mustn’ do dat. She’s my mudder.. She was

vine to roast me, but she’s my mudder.
Bides dat, she’s got de debbil to help her.”

Tip declared that he had no fear of her
snakes and witch stuff, but was of the opin-
ion that the truth could be got out of her
without resorting to violence.

“*Dere vas a besser vay as dot,” observed
Adam Stocker, who had been ruminating in
silence. ‘You see dot house ofer dere?
You don’t see it now; aber you see it ven
day makes. Dose schcoundrels belong. by
dot house, I bets you. Ven dey takes der
long vay ’rount, ve takes der short vay across,
oe ve goes by dot house ven it makes
day.”

“'That’s the ticket for soup!” shouted Mike
Rafferty. ‘We will cut across lots, and
shtorm the fort, and it’ll be quare if we
don’t ketch somethin’.” :

Adam Stocker’s plan was finally approved
of, and the ark prepared to make an early
start in the search for Mrs. Tressell. z

At daybreak the next morning they had
their breakfast, and Ganymede put up a cold
lunch for each of them. He was persuaded
to remain and watch the boat, but with dif-
ficulty, as he had serious fears that the Vou-

doo Queen might find him and roast him,
The others went ashore and struck out for
the old log-house, armied with three rifles
and a pistol, the last named weapon forming
the armament of Mike Rafferty.
‘““We don’t seem to have any notion how
many of the scamps there are in that gang,”

observed Jesse Siddals. ‘‘Tip says there
were only four who sprung the trap on the
old lady, but it was considerable of a crowd
that tackled us up the river, and I reckon
these are some of the same. But we must
chance them, and play our hand for all it is
worth.”

*“Dot vos’ so,” sententiously remarked
Adam Stocker. ‘‘ Aber ve finds dem first.”

‘When they came near to the log-house Sid-
*dals took command of the party, and under
his directions they separated and approached
the building on each of its four sides, ad-
vancing skirmisher fashion and concealing
their movements as well as they could.

Thus they got within a few rods of the
house without being hailed or fired upon.

Tip was the first to storm the fort.

Judging that if there were any enemies in
the house they would have made their pres-
ence known, he made a rush and reached the
open hall, and his example was quickly fol.
lowed by the others, ,

They found the house deserted, with the
exception of one room, in which a bound and
helpless man was seated on a pile of blankets,

 

This was something unexpected and alto.
gether surprising, and they hastened to untie
him and ask him who he was and how he
came there.

‘When he was loose he broke out into such
afurious storm of oaths and denunciations
of Martin Tressell that it was some time be-
fore he became calm enough to make a state-
ment of his case.

“My name is Kehoe, and I belong in
Memphis,” he said.

“Dot vas so,” observed Adam. ‘‘Tip, ve
recomembers dot man. Vot makes you here, ,
hey?”

2 That infernal scoundrel, Martin Tres-
sell, stole my wife. She ran away with him,
and I came dows here to look for her. He
caught me, and tied me up as you found me,
and left me here to starve.”

The man’s story might be true. The’ fact
that he was foe tied gave it at least a color
of truth. But before he could be questioned
any further, all were startled by a shout from
Mike Rafferty, who was outside.

“Here comes the inimy! Bring out the
guns, b’yes! Right-shoulder shift! Forrud,
by file left! Give ’em fits!”

Allran out, and saw two men riding across
the old field toward the house. They were
well mounted, and appeared to be peacefully
inclined, though each of them carried a rifle.

“‘ We can take care of them easy enough,
whoever they are,” said Siddals. ‘‘ Stop your
howlin’, Mike, and let them come on.”

The two strangers hesitated, and seemed to
be in doubt as to what they should do, But
the friendly gestures of Jesse Siddals, and
the absence of all warlike demonstrations,
caused them to ride warily on, until they
reached the group at the house.

One of them, who was dark-skinned and
coarsely dressed, was oe a native of
the region and a resident. he other, a
young man who wore a business suit and
a Derby hat, was as evidently more at home
in the city than in the country.

He was the spokesman of the strangers, and
addressed himself to Jesse Siddals.

“T see a flatboat down yonder,” said he,
‘*Do any of you happen to belong to it?”

“* All of us but one,” replied Siddals.

“YT am glad to meet you, then. “If that
boat is called the ‘Search,’ I am looking for
its owner, Mrs. Eliza Tressell.”

“«That is just what we are lookin’ for, sir,
The old lady has been gobbled up and car-
ried off by a gang of scoundrels.”

“Indeed! That is precisely what I had
feared, and I came here to try to prevent it.”

“You-are a leetle bit too late, sir. But
‘light down and come in, and let us talk the
matter over.”

 
Tip Tressell, the Floater.

 

The two strangers hitched their horses, | harsh cries of waterfowl sounded strange

and all entered the house, including Billy and weird enough.

Kehoe.

““My name is George Aglar, and I live in
Memphis,” said the young gentleman. ‘‘I
am a sort of left-handed relative of Mrs.
Tressell’s.. In fact, my sister married her
son; but the less said of that the better.”

Tip opened his eyes wide, and Billy Kehoe
looked closely at the young man.

“‘T happened to hear in Memphis,” he
said, ‘‘of a plot to capture Mrs. Tressell,
which was to be carried into effect at Bayou

Tunison, and I thought it my duty to come |
down here and try to defeat it. But I grieve

to learn that I am too late. Please te
when and how she was taken away.”

“You ain’t too late to be of use,” said
Jesse Siddals, and he proceeded to tell what
had happened to the ark until she reached
her moorings in Bayou Tunison.

Then Tip took up the story.

“*Grandma sent me—” he began.

‘What do you mean by ‘grandma’?”
quickly asked George Aglar. ‘‘ Who is your
grandma?” :

«“Why, Mrs. Tressell. At least, she says
she is.”

“Tg it possible that you are Martin Tres-
sell’s son?”

“Grandma says 80.” :

“Did you live up the Ohio? Did youship
on a flatboat to go south?”

ne ies irs,

““Why, Martin Tressell told me that you
were drowned. He said that he had that
news from one of the crew of the flatboat.”

“‘T yeckon he believed it. I slipped over-
board at night, and swam ashore; but Ididn’t
get drowned.” :

“Thank God! What glorious news this
will be for my sister! Your mother is living,
my boy, and [ am your uncle George!”

CHAPTER XII.
AT THE SWAMP ISLAND.

Tum route which Mrs. Tressell’s captors
fullowed into the swamp was a very difficult
one, and it would have been impossible to
traverse it at night, as in places there was
no path at all, and the men who carried
the stretcher had no little difficulty in mak-
ing their way, stepping from hummock to
hummock, or from one bunch of cypress
“knees” to another. ;

The swampy forest was gloomy in the ex-
treme, the tall and dark cypresses standing
closely together, heavily clothed with hang-
ing moss, and the black and stagnant water
spread out on each side of the path. Water
snakes coursed here and there, moccasin
snakes were stretched on logs and hum-
mocks, and the croaking of frogs and the

me ,

 

'

There was no chance for the old lady to
escape, and she made no attempt to do so,
but lay quietly on the stretcher, giving no
heed to the oaths and grumbling of the
men who were carrying her. She was bein,
taken into the swamp against her will, an
would not move a finger to help her captors
to ean their ends. :

t last they reached their destination, an
island in the midst of the swamp, about an
acre in extent.

Here were two rude log-houses, and a
tent made of blankets, shaded and partly
concealed by the trees.

In an open space a bright fire was burn-
ing, and over it was a pot, hanging from
a cron cates supported by two crotched
poles.

When the stretcher was set down, Mrs.
Tressell arose and walked to the fire to watm
herself, not that the weather was at all cold,
but because the damp air of the swamp had
affected her unpleasantly,

As she did so she came face to face with a
woman who was approaching the fire with
an armful of wood. :

This was not an ill-looking woman. In
fact, it was easy to see that she could once ;
have boasted of being pretty. But her face
then had what may be called a hard look,
apart from the tan which had been caused
by exposure to the weather, and which was
not sufficient to conceal the sallow and un-
healthy look of her skin.

Mrs. Tressell looked inquiringly at this
‘woman, who stared at her in turn; but nei-
ther of them spoke.

Martin Tressell had been giving directions
to two of the men who came with him, and
they now stepped up to the old-lady, took
her by the arm, and led her away to one of
the log-houses,

She was ushered into a small room, which
‘was roughly and scantily furnished. There
was a rude bed, a table made of a split log,
and some blocks for seats.

Breakfast was soon brought in to her, and
a good breakfast it was. She ate it with
relish, and felt stronger to meet the trials
that awaited her.

Shortly after she had finished her break-
fast Martin Tressell came in, lighted s pipe,
and seated himself on one of the blocks.

“Now, old lady,” said he, ‘‘ we will pro-
ceed to business.”

She looked at him sorrowfully and se-
verely. ae

“Ts this my son?’ she asked. ‘Is this
the boy I loved so well, and hoped would

‘ow up to be my pride and joy?” :

Yes, I am your son, and you needn't ge

 
  

 

24

Tip Tressell, the Floater.

 

to preaching about it. I am the son you! she pointed her forefinger at him, ‘‘do you

tried to treat as a baby or a girl when he was |

aman grown. No man of spirit could stand
that sort of thing, and I quit off.”

“Martin, I was only acting for your good,
not to please myself. I saw that you had a
passion for gambling—it was: born in you—
and I wanted to save you from the fate of
your father.”

““The fate of my father?” he replied, with
asneer. ‘I know something about that my-
self, My father was the best poker-player in
Mississippi. He followed the game as a
business, and made a fortune at it, You in-
duced him to leave you all his money, when
it should have been left to me, and now I
mean to come in for my share.”

“Tf that is your opinion, Martin, you
know nothing about the matter. . You have
been wrongly informed. Your father had
some property when I married him, but lost
it all by gambling, and my money would
have been swept away if I had not kept it
out of his reach. All the property I have is
mine in my own right, It is true that his
will was in my favor, but he had nothing
left to will.”

«“That won’t do, old lady. I don’t like to
dispute your word, but that won’t go down
at all. My father would never have made a
will if he had had no property. He wasn’t
that kind of a man, You have got it all,
‘and I mean to have my share, and the big-
gest share at that. You will have to make
me sure of two-thirds of it before you leave
this place.”

‘‘My son, I have sought you for years,
hoping to help you to lead a betterdife. At
Memphis I was informed that you were sick
down here, and I came at once to aid you.
Is it possible that you sent me that false re-
port for the base purpose which you now
express?” ;

“ Yes, I did, and the little game has work-
ed well, too.”

“You are a’ worse man than I had feared
ou were. You have sunk very low, Martin
ressell,”

“You are right, old lady. {am a gam-
bler, and I drink hard, and I have been a
horse-thief. There are men here in Louisi-
ana who would string me up.to the nearest
tree if they could catch me. So you see that
I am a desperate man, and that I mean busi-
ness. If I have sunk low, I must have
money to rise on.”

Money to squander. ‘You shall have
none of mine while you continue your pres-
ent courses. My will is made, and I defy
you to touch any of my property.”

‘We will see about that.”

 

know that you killed your son yesterday?”

“My son? What son?”

‘*Tupton Tressell, your own son—the bo:
you left with a man up the Ohio. He
shipped on a flatboat, and jumped overboard
in the Mississippi, and I found him floating
in the river. He was with me yesterday,
and one of your rascals said that he had
jumped into a well and drowned. If that is
the case, his blood is on your head.”

‘JT don’t feel it there,” rudely replied _
Martin, ‘‘and I don’t believe a word you .

say. That boy was drowned some time ago,
Anyhow, you don’t leave this place until
you come to my terms.” ‘

He rose from his seat, and went to the
door.

‘“Can I walk out?” she asked. ‘I need
exercise,”

“Yes, if you choose. Iam not afraid of
your getting away from this island.”

She laid down on the bed, to take the rest
that she needed quite as much as she needed
exercise, and it was not until she had eaten
her dinner that she sallied out to walk.

The fire was out, and there were but a few
men visible on the swamp island, who took
no notice of her.

She peered into the other log-cabin, and
there she saw two men lying on the floor,
and a third was applying oil and flour to
their faces and hands.

“Ah!” she muttered, ‘‘now I know who :

it was that attacked the ‘Search’ up the
river, and those are victims of the bot water
engine.”

She started to circumnavigate the island,
which was an easy thing to do, and under a
thick clump of bushes she suddenly came
Spo the woman whom she had met at the
fire.

The woman was seated on the turf, lean-
ing her head on her hand, and seemed to be
meditating sorrowfully. She was startled
by Mrs. Tressell’s approach, and looked up
quickly. The old lady, with a kindly smile,
took a seat on the grass at her side. :

“‘ Are you his mother?” she asked.

“T am the mother of Martin Tressel.”

“‘T thought so. He said he was going to
bring you here.
you a hard time.”

“T suppose he will try to.
man. . Who are you?”

“Who am 1?” replied the woman, forcing
alaugh. ‘T have had so many names that
I scarcely know what to call myself now.
My name was Nancy Rains before I married
a man up the Ohio.. I got tired of livin’

He is a bad

E | with him—it was so lonesome there—and I
‘Martin Tressell,” said the old lady, as ,

wanted to see somethin’ of the world. So I

I reckon he means to give -—

  
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

   

Tip Tressel], the Floater. &5

  

 

 

léft him, and after a time I got as far down
as Memphis, where I married another
man.” 5

“While your first husband was living?”

“‘What of that? He didn’t know, and T
had left him for good. I got on pretty well
with Billy Kehoe until Martin Tressell came
along - ae was called Sam Martin up there.
I fell sn love with him, and he coaxed me off
and brought me down here, and I’ve been
here a long time. Don’t you think I'ma
devil?”

“1 think you have been a very reckless
woman, and an unhappy one, I’m afraid. So
you are now Mrs, Tressell?”

“No, not that. He never married me,
You may call me Nancy, if you choose.”

“Are you fond of my son, Nancy?”

“‘Sometimes I am, and sometimes I hate
him. Just now I hate him like p’'isen. He
knocked me down and kicked me this morn-
ing.”

He is a terrible man, Nancy. Do you
know that yesterday he caused the death of
his son?”

“His son? Who’s that?”

‘His own son, Tipton Tressel?”

‘Not little Tip, who was raised up the
Ohio with Abe Trotter? Did he have black
hair and eyes and a queer little mole on his
men cheek—a regular beauty spot?”

ae es. ”»

“ That’s little Tip, Martin Tressell’s son.”

‘* What do you know about him, Nancy?”

‘Why, I was Abe Trotter’s wife. Martin
Tressell left Tip with.us when he was a bit
of a thing, and I would have run away from
Abe Trotter sooner than I did if I hadn’t
hated to leave the young one. Is he dead,
poor Tip?”

Mrs. Tressell told the story of her visit to
the Voudoo ae and her capture there,
and Nancy Trotter was greatly moved by
the recital.

ae you want to stay here with my son,
Nancy?” asked the old lady.

“Do I want to be a drudge and a slave, to
pe cussed and kicked about? No, you bet
don’t!” ‘

“You must know this country well, and the
ins and outs of thisswamp. If you will help
me to get away from here I will take you up
the river, and will help you to lead a better
and pleasanter life. I-will reward you well
for all you do for me.”

Nancy hesitated a moment, Then she
grasped the old Jady’s hand.

“Tl do it!” she exclaimed.

 

CHAPTER XII.
A BATTLE IN A SWAMP,
Wuen Tim had discovered his Uncle George
Aglar, he took a long look at him, and scratched

 

 

his head vigorously, to make sure that he was
not dreaming.

Then he recommenced his story, and brought
it down to the capture of the log-house.

“T reckon that man yonder cav give us the
rest of the yarn, as far as anybody bere knows
it,” remarked Jesse Siddals, pointing to Billy
Kehoe,

“T have no doubt that he can,” said Aglar.
“T have seen him before this. You remember
me, I suppose, Mr. Kehoe?”

“T believe I met youin Memphis. Well, gen-
tlemen, 1 will give you the whole thing, fair
and square, as faras I know anything about
it; but that isn’t very.far. Martin Tressell ran
away with my wife, and I came down here to
look her up. He caught me, and tied mey and
left me here, as you found me, As for his
carrying off Mrs. Tressell, that is a scheme
which I had nothing in the world to do with,”

“Stop right there, Billy Kehoe!” said George
Aglar, “bat won’t do at all, I happen to
know that the plot for her capture was formed
in your rooms. Martin Tressel] invented it, and
you assented toit. You were to furnish him with

-money to carry it out, and he promised that in

the event of success he would pay you all he
owed you and give you a bonus.

Billy Kehoe stared at the young gentleman,
and there could be no doubt that his amazement ~
was genuine, .

“ How in —— did you find that out?” he
asked.

“Tt was my business to look after Martin
Tressell, as you know, and that plot is what
brought me here, You had better tell us the
truth, plainly and fully,”

“You have got me there, Mr. Aglar, for a
fact; but that was all I had to do with the job. I
meant to tell you all I knew, outside of that

oint. My real object was to get even with

ressell for stealing my wife, and that is what
brought me here. Martin Tressell and three
other men came here last evening, in a wagon,
bringing the old lady. They stopped here last
night, and this morning early they took her
into the swamp. I wanted _to go with them;
but I suppose Tressell guessed what I was after,
and he swore 1 should not. When I started to
go in +s of him, they piled on me, and tied
me, and left me here. That, gentlemen, is as
square as a die, and is all I know about the
matter, ey that they went off in a wagon,
and we ought to be able to track them.”

“Tt seems so,” said Aglar. ‘‘Well, Bill
ane how do you feel toward Martin Tresse
now ;

“T hate him like a rattlesnake, and I wish I
bad him tied to a tree, so that I could shoot him
full of lead.”

““ We are not quite so savage as that; but we
must find him. Are you willing to help us?”

“Yes, indeed.”

Can we trust you?”

“You can bet on me, gentlemen, as you
would on a straight flush.”

“ Are you armed?”

“They left me my revolver.”

“ Allright, We will give you a chance to get
even. Now, my friends, the day is advancing,
and we have no time to lose. We must go into

    
  

 

Tip Tressell, the Floater.

 

that swamp, and strike the scoundrels off their

own ground. I will warrant. that my guide,
Charley Beale, can follow their trail.”

The wagon tracks were easy enough to follow
over the soft ground, and the party soon reached
the edge of the swamp.

There the marks of the wagon turned, and
pointed in a southerly direction; but it was
plain, from the tracks of the horses and men,
that Martin Tressell’s people had stopped there
for some time, and it was easy to conjecture
that the team had been sent away, while the
party had entered the swamp.

Charley Beale studied the track, and soop
found the trail that led into the swamp.

“Come on, fellers!” he ordered. “If we
can’t foller a trail that a woman has gone on,
we had better go home and soak our heads.”

He started in, and the others followed.

The party then number@d five men and two
boys, five of them armed with rifles, and they
considered themselves quite a formidable force.

They had got well into the forest, but had not

et reached the swamp, when a word from

ike ety who was in the rear, brought
them to a halt,

“Hould on, b’yes! There’s a chap comin’
down the field!”

“Hide, every one of eons ordered Jesse
oe “Tf it’s one of the gang we must git

im,

Instantly they scattered, and took cover
under bushes and at the trunks of trees, the
tall lamberman concealing himself bebind a big
cypress that grew at the side of the trail.

As Siddals conjectured, the man who was
approaching them was the one who had been

sent away with the wagon, and who was then.

returning to his comrades,

He came on eee unsuspicious of danger,
whistling as he walked, and turned into the
path that led to the swamp.

As he passed the big cypress, Siddals quiet]
stepped out, seized him by the collaryand wit
a jerk threw him backward on the ground.

@ was disarmed of his revolver, and was
stood upon his feet, while the others came out
and gathered around him.

“Let me have him,” said Charley Beale. ‘I
know the rascal. Look here, you infernal horse-
thief! We know who you are, and whar you
are goin’, We are goin’ thar, too, and you’ve
got to show us the way. Lead on, now, and if
you ae to cut and run, or to swindlo us in any
ne will blow a hole through you!”

he guide’s determined tone and cocked re-
volver left the fellow no choice. He turned
without a word and led the way into the swamp,
closely followed by Beale.

The trail was a blind and difficult one; but it
was clear that thé man in the lead knew it well
enough. Occasionally, when there seemed to be
no longer a path, Beale suspected that the forced
ge was leading the prrty astray; but, when

@ was haltec and confronted with a leveled
pistol, he protested his good faith ,so earnestly
hat he was allowed to proceed.

As they advanced, the funereal darkness of
the dense forest, the black water stretching out
under the create. trees, and the numerous
forms of reptile life that pervaded the swamp,

 

I

were disagreeably strange to those who had
never before witnessed such a scene, and were
almost terrifying to Mike mecseet 2

“ Howly St. Pathrick!” groaned the Irish lad.
**Sure yez was dead an’ burrid afore iver this
bloody counthry was made, and the divil got
hould ay it from the start. Och! wirra, wirra!
I wish I’d gone to be a saint in glory afore I
sbhtuck me fut in it at all at all!”

‘Hush your howling, and come on!” ordered
Jesse Siddals. ‘‘There’s nothin’ here that'll
hurt you if you mind your footin’ and keep your
eyes peeled.”

Finally the forced guide stopped suddenly,
and pointed ahead,

““There’s the island,” he said, almost in a
whisper.

The men behind him could plainly see a piece
of ground considerably bigher than the swamp,
and covered with trees ‘out bushes of a different
character from the usual swamp growth.

‘*Tell him to go on,” ordered Jesse Siddals,
and Charley Beale leveled his revolver and re-
peated the order,

‘‘T can’t do that,” protested the man. ‘ They
will shoot me the first one. Please don’t make
me do that!”

Hardly were the words out of his mouth when
a rifle cracked on the island, and a bullet struck
him in the breast. He fell backward on the
narrow path, and rolled over into the water.

“Scatter!”- shouted Siddals, and they did
scatter with amazing suddenness,

The leader and Charley Beale jumped upon
hummocks, and sheltered themselves behind
cypress trunks, Tip caught the low branch of
a live oak, and swung himself up into the tree,
and his example was followed by George Aglar.
Adam Stocker, after floundering in a bog, found
a refuge at the foot of the same tree. Billy
Kehoe lay flat on the path, and Mike Rafferty
stepped quickly to the rear.

houts were heard on the island; but the man
who fired the fatal shot was the only one who
had yet seen the advancing party, and there
was.no further demonstration from that quarter
until the assailants had got into cover.

Tip brought his rifle to his shoulder as soon as
he had planted himself securely in a fork of the
live oak, and looked for a victim, ,

He soon found one, and took a deliberate aim.
His rifle cracked, and a,yell followed the report.

aoe there was close and rapid firing on both
sides.

The defenders of the island hurried to the
threatened point, and from the cover of logs
and trees endeavored to pick off their enemies
who were scattered about the swamp.

Thus each side was well protected, and the
contest became a game of marksmansbip.
‘Whenever a head or an arm was exposed a
bullet whizzed toward it, and whenever a flash
was seen it was at once fired at.

After nearly an hour of this exercise no casu-
alties worth mentioning had bezn sustained by
Siddal’s party, and it was impossible for them
to judge how much injury they had inflicted
upon their foes. ;

They judged that there were but few of the
marauders on the island, from the weakness of
their fire; but the trouble was to get at them,

    

 

 

SUE z

 

 
    

 

 

= eRe a

Se

 

 

Tip Tressell,

the Floater. 27

 

Advancing on the path in single file was out of
the question, and it seemed to be impossible to
attack them by crossing the swamp.

Jesse Siddals made the attempt, leaping from
bummock to hummock and from tree to tree;
but be slipped into the marsh, and bad great
difficulty in extricating himself. Before he re-

ained bis shelter he received a severe wound ©

in the arm.

Then the fire from the island slackened, as if ,

its defenders had come to the conclusion that
they were wasting ammunition.

Siddals passed the word to retire out of range,
keeping in cover as much as, possible, and seb

the example, which was speedily followed by

the others,

A few-shots hastened their steps; but they
were soon out of the reach of bullets, and safe
on @ dry spot which Mike Rafferty had occu-
pied during the engagement.

The leader’s arm was dressed as well as it
could be, and George Aglar asked him the rea-
son of the order to retreat.

““We can’t do anythin’ more here to-day,” he
replied. ‘Night is comin’ on, and we must get
out of this.”

‘That’s so,” said Charley Beale, ‘I wouldn’t
be in here after dark for any money. All hell’s
awake in this swamp when night comes.”

“T don’t like to leave that poor devil who was
shot in front of us,” remarked Aglar.

“Why, he’s dead enough,” replied Siddals,

“Yes, but we ought to bring him away and
bury him.”

‘“ Not if we know ourselves, said Beale. “The
dirty borse-thief has got as good a burial as he
deserves, and he had an easier death than he
ought to have expected. It won’t do for honest
live men to risk their skins for a dead rascal.”

So the dead rascal was left in the swamp, and
the honest live men picked their way out of it,

CHAPTER XIV.
ESCAPE AND PURSUIT.
Mrs, TRESSELL was rejoiced when her com-
panion uttered the welcome words ‘I will!”
She already half believed that she was safe,
that she would escape from the clutches of her

son.

‘¢ What shall we do?” she asked.

“T know a way out.of this swamp,” replied
Nancy Trotter, ‘‘But it is a hard road to
travel, and we may have to hide out over night. |
You had better go back to the house, or loaf
about the island, so that Martin sha’n’t suspect.
I will go and get ready something for us to eat |
on the way, as we can’t afford to go hungry. |
Come back here in about half an hour and we
will start when I see a good chance.” |

Nancy walked back to the camp, as the little
settlement in the center of the island was called,
and went direct to the tent which she then in- |
habited,

There she found Martin Tressell, and found
him in an ill-humor. |

‘Where have you been?” he demanded. |

“Just loafing about,” she answered.

“You mustn’t loaf about too much, as you
a to do. Who is the boss here, you
or :

“TY suppose you are,” she sullenly replied,

 

| §*¥ou suppose so? Don’t you know yet?”

' He emphasized this question by a blow in her
face with the flat of his hand, which nearly
knocked the woman down.

“1 give in, Martin,” she said, with a hysteri-
cal laugh, ‘‘ You are the boss.”

“*See that you remember that.”

“Soy, Martin, mayn’t I have a little of your
whisky?”

“Whisky? What do you wart of whisky?”

“To take my quinine with.”

‘Ves, As you are docile now, you may take
the pint bottle in there and fill it from my cask.
But if you ever touch a drop without asking
me, you will be sorry for it.”

As she turned to go into the tent, he stopped
her.

‘“Nancy, have you seen the old lady?” he

asked,

| “I suppose it was her that I saw walking
about a bit ago.”

| ‘She is getting to be an old woman. Do

; you think she can. stand it to stay in this
swamp?” ‘

| I don’t believe she will stay here long,” re-

' plied Nancy.

“T reckon I had better hurry up things.”

| He walked away, and Nancy Trotter entered

| the tent, where she got the liquor she had asked
for, and placed the bottle in her bosom.

Then she cut some bread and meat, which she
put in the pocket of herdress, and sauntered off

_ as if with no definite object.

| Mrs. Tressell bad walked back to the log-
| house, but the place gave her the horrors aud
|she did not enter it. .

| She peered in at the other log-cabin, looking
closely at the scalded men on the floor, and
| then wandered aimlessly about the island.

She saw her son walking away from Nancy’s
tent, but she did not care to meet him, and he
was not yet ready to ‘ hurry up things.”

When the allotted half hour was up, she cir-
cled around until she reached the clump of
bushes where she was to meet Nancy.

She found her new friend waiting for her

| there, and learned that she had brought, besides
the promised provisions, two heavy blankets,
which she had concealed under her clothing.

| “Y saw Martin, and he hit me again,’ she
said. /*But he won’t be likely to do it any

more.’

“He isa brute, Nancy. I hate to say itofmy
own son; but he is the meanest kind of a brute,
When can we start?”

“Pretty soon, I hope. Do you feel strong
enough for a real rough tramp over the worst
kind of a soft and slippery track?”

“T feel strong enough to do anything but stay
here—anything that will take, me away from
this place and out of this swamp.” 5

“J will bide these things, then, and will look
around a bit to see if anybody is watching us,
Hark! What's that?”

It was the report of a rifle, sounding from an-
other part of the island, and was followed by
shouts and other noises that spoke of great ex-
citement. :

The solitary report was soon succeeded by
other shots, and then there was rapid and con-
tinuous firing.

 
Tip Tressell, the Floater.

 

that Martin’s men have got into a quarrel.”

“Tt must be my friends who are attacking the
island,” said Mrs, Tressell, ‘‘ Perhaps, Nancy,
Tip is not dead,”

‘I hope not. Dear little Tip!”

‘*Humph! He is not so very little. If he is

alive, you may be sure that one of those rifles is
his

.. He was smart enough to get away, and
how else could the people on my boat have
found out so soon what had heppened to me and
where I had been taken to? Nancy, Tip must be
alive.”

‘Well, Mrs, Tressell, while the men are busy
over there we have a good chance to get away
without being seen. Come, let’s go!”

**Not yet. My friends may win the fight and
ps the island, and then they will come and

elp us.

Dont you bet a cent on that. They can’t
set foot on thisisland, whoever they are. Ithas
been tried by bigger crowds than they’ve got.
Come, let’s start while we can.”

The old lady was unwilling then to leave the
island, but yielded to the arguments and per-
suasions of Nancy, who led the way upon a nar-
row path that started out from that point.

This path was nearly similar to that by which
Mrs. Tressell had been brought to the island,
though it was considerably longer anid more
circuitous, and Nancy assured her companion
that it issued from the swamp by the side’ at
which she had entered it.

Their progress was slow enough, but soon the
dense and dark masses of trees shut the island
from their view: The firing continued, but
espa weakened, and finally ceased alto-
gother,

‘* Perhaps my friends have won the fight and
taken the island,” said Mrs. Tressell.

“Nota bit of it,” replied Nancy. ‘Thatdon't
lie in their boots, I tell you. More likely they
have got tired and quit the job.”

Then a few dropping shots told of the end of
the engagement.

“ Yes, that’s just the way of it, and I'll bet on
it,” said Nancy. ‘“‘ Now we must get on as fast
as we can, asl am afraid that Martin will miss
us and come hot foot on our trail.” '

‘The old lady did her best, and stood up to th
work bravely; but the somber gloom of the
cypress forest, and the other horrors of the
swamp, added to the difficulties of the narrow
and uncertain pathway, were too much for her
Remon strength,

er will kept ber up when her bodily endur-
ance was almost at an end, and she tottered on,
nae Nancy Trotter’s hand, until she was
scarcely able to put one foot before another,

She was on the verge of fainting, when her
companion revived her with a drink of the
liquor which she had begged from Martin
Tressel.

“Try to hold up just a few minutes longer,”
meee Mace: “Only a little bit further, and
we will reach a dry spot where we can pass the
night. I thought of that before we left the
island, as I didn’t believe that you could go
through without resting, even if weshould have
daylight enough to reach the main land.”

deed, the darkness of the cypress forest

 

THs a fight!” exclaimed Nancy. ‘It can’t be | was increasing, as night was coming on rapidly

and it was nob very easily that they could see
their way when they reached the “dry spot”
of which Nancy had spoken. It was a little
oasis in the desert of swamp, so thickly covered
with trees and bushes as to be almost impene-
trable.

Into this jungle Nancy pushed her way, drag-
ging the old lady after her, until they found
an open spot where they could sit down:

Then she made Mrs. Tressell taste the liquor
and eat some bread and meat, not forgetting to
do the same herself.

‘*T wish I dared to light a fire,” she said;
“but I don’t, as I am every minute afraid that
oe Tressell is on our track, Look! What’s

at

A light was moving rapidly toward them,
across the swamp, from the direction of the
island.

“Perhaps it is a Will-o’-the-wisp,” suggested

Mrs. Tressell.

‘Will-o’-nothin’! It is Martin Tressell with
alantern. Wait a bit. Yes, I am sure now.
It isa man, and of course it is Martin, He may
look in here, and we must hide close. Come
with me,”

‘Across acorner of the little island a large
tree had fallen, and behind this the two women
concealed themselves, creeping’ close to the
trunk, end preserving absolute silence.

After awhile they heard a trampling among
the bushes, and saw the light of a iantern. They
also recognized the voice of Martin Tressell and
his favorite oaths,

“They ain’t here,” he said at last. “If they
have gone on I will be sure to overhaul them.
It would bea fine joke on me if they haven’t
left the island.”

Nancy watched the lantern until it was out of
sight, and then the two women wrapped them-
selves in their blankets, and slept behind the
fallen tree until daybreak.

After breaking their fast they set out again.

‘*T suppose he has given us up and gone back,”
said Nancy. ‘‘ Anyhow, we must risk it.”

After a toilsome tramp they reached the firm
land, and rejoiced that they were clear of the
swamp. :

“Thank God that we are safe at last!” ex-
claimed the old lady. . P

She heard a low laugh near her, looked around,
eos found herself face to face with Martin Tres-
8

CHAPTER XV.

BILLY KEHOH’S REVENGE.

Ir was nearly: dark when Jesse Siddals and his
party got out the swamp, and they were all
pretty much dissatisfied with the result of their
endeavors. :

‘What is going to be the next move?” asked.
George Aglar.

“We must camp out here in the old field to-
night,” replied Siddals. ‘‘ There ain’t any snakes
about here except water moccasins, and they
won't be likely to come out of the swamp to
bother us.” :

“But what shall we do in the morning?”

“Tn the morning, if you folks agree to it, we

 
Tip Tresseli,

the Floater. 29

 

will go into the swamp and have another shy at
those scoundrels. We know where they are
now, and can find some way to get at them. I
can’t use my left arm, but I can manage a rifle
well enough with my right hand and shoulder.”

The leader’s arm was dressed and putin a
sling, and then the party, after doing justice to
@ portion of the provisions that Ganymede had
prepared for them, laid down in the old field to
sleep, with the exception of a guard at the
camp, and a picket down the path at the edge
of the camp.

All were awake at an early hour in the morn-
ing; but Tip was ahead of the rest. :

He bad taken his rifle and gone on a scout,
skirting the edge of the forest in a southerly
direction, hoping to find some other route by
which they could cross the swamp and reach the
island.

He returned while the others were eating their
na and had a strange and startling story

About half a mile from their camp he had
seen Martin Tressell—if the tall and dark man
whom he had met before was Martin Tressell,
and of that tuere seemed to be no doubt.

Tip bad come upon him unawares, and would
have been discovered by him if he had not
dodged out of sight.

Martin Tressell was standing where there was
a sort of break in the timber, and seemed to be
ene for something or waiting for some-

dy.

Of course the lad did not care to “tackle”
him; so he hastened back to his companions and
reported what he had seen,

he camp was at once broken up, and all
marched away with Tip to hunt the chief of the
marauders. )
might count upon effecting the release of Mrs.
Tressell.

Silently and cautiously they followed Tip, un-
til he motioned to therm to halt, as they were
near the break in the timber of which he had

spoken.
Charley Beale, who was supposed to be better
acquainted with the nature of the ground than

the others, was sent on to reconnoiter, and he’

moved through the forest as quiefly as a ghost,
keeping himself carefully covered, until he came
within vicw of the spot which Tip had des-
cribed.

He returned in the same style.

‘‘Thar’s more’n we bargained for,” he re-
ported—"‘ a man and two women.”

Jesse Siddais took command of the party,
and led them around under cover of the trees
un‘il they reached the break in the timber of
which Tip had spoken.

Then they advanced cautiously until the
came in sight of the scene which Beale had al-
ready witnessed. z

Mrs Tressell lay on the ground, Spenneniy
in a faint, with her head in the lap of another
woman, and Martin was bending over her.

“At a signal from their leader the five rifle-
men. covered Martin Tressell with their loaded
weapons.

He heard the rustling of the leaves and the
clicking of the locks, and rose quickly.

As he rose he drew 4 revolver,

if they could capture bim, they-

 

“Drop that pistol, and throw up your hands
ordered Siddals.  ‘‘ You see that we've got the
dead wood on you.”

There could be no question of that. One
man with a revolver could not think of con-
tending against five men with rifles, and Mar-
tin Tressell saw that his game was up.

flis revolver fell to the ground, and his hands
were raised above his head.

Charley Beale stepped forward and tied his
hands behind his back, and the crew of the
“Search” went to the assistance of Mrs. Tres-
sell, who looked like a dead woman,

Nancy Trotter gave them her whisky b«ttle,
and the old lady’s face and hands were rubbed
with the strong stimulant, and a few drops
were forced intoher mouth. Gradually she re-
vived, and after a while was able to sit up.

‘‘ What does this mean?” she asked. ‘‘ Adam
Stocker, is that you? And you, too, Siddals?
Why, Tip is really alive. Thank goodness for
that!”

“Is that little Tip?”
“Yes, itis. I know him by bis hair and eyes,
and by that funny little mole on his cheek.
Yes, that is Martin Tressell’s son, that was left
with us when he was such a little chap.”

“You see, Martin, that you did not cause the
death of your son,” said the old lady. ‘You
ought at least to be thankful for that.”

“*T see nothing to be thankful for,” he rough-
ly replied. ‘‘I don’t care a straw for the
brat.”

Tip took no more notice of his alleged fether
than if he had not been there.

Billy Kehoe had recognized Nancy, and now
he proceeded to put in his claim.

“Tam so glad that I have found you, Nancy,”
said he. ‘‘ Now you will leave that man and
go home with me, won’t you!”

“T won't go with you, whatever I do,” she
coldly replied. ‘“‘I have made other arrange-
ments.”

“You wiltehave to do it, Tsay. You can’t
stay with that scoundrel any longer.”

“Suppose, Mr. Kehoe,” suggested Aglar,
“that you let eos. private affairs stand over
for a while. We have otier matters to attend
to, and can’t allow any disturbance.”

‘*That’s so,” declared Jesse Siddals, ‘It is
clear that Mrs. Tressell won’t be able to walk
to the boat, and we must fix some way to
earry her. If Mr. Aglar and Tip will follow
up these wagon-tracks, they may find that team
and bring it to us. For fear they shouldn’t
light on it, I will try another scheme, Adam
Stocker can go to the old house and get a couple
of blankets, and Mr. Beale and I will cut soine
poles, The other two may stay here and watch
the prisoners.” te

This arrangement was agreed to, and all set
off to perform the tasks allotted to them.

Billy Kehoe watched them until they were
out of sight, and then began to pace the ground
rapidly, showing that he was under the influence
of strong excitement,

Martin Tressell, his hands tied bebind him,
stood with his back against the trunk of a large
tree. Nancy Trotter was seated at the base of
another tree, partly supporting Mrs. Tressell.

She paid no attention to the furious glances

exclaimed Nancy.

 
  

 

30

Lip Tressell, the Floater.

 

 

the mun from Memphis occasionally shofat her, | Mrs. Tressel] asked for a lock of her dead

but looked up when he addressed her.

son’s hair, which was given her, and she wag

“T want you to go home with me, Nancy,” placed in the wagon with Siddals and Tip, and
he said, in a voice full of suppressed passion, , was driven away to the Search.

Will you do it?”

The others remained to give a decent burial

“TJ told you that I would not,” shé quietly | to tho victims of the Memphis man’s revenge.

rep'fed.

With their knives and hands they dug a

“ You are my wife, and you must leave that grave in the soft alluvial soil, and the bodies

man.”

sail Martin Tressell, with a sneer. ‘She be-
longed to another man before either of us got
ho'd of ber. She was the wife of Abe Trotter
before you saw her.”

“She was my wife when you stole her from
me, you scoundrel, and I mean to have your
heart’s blood for the wrong you did me,”

“None of that, now!” exclaimed Nancy, rising
as Kehoe drew his revolver.

‘Come away from that horse-thief and vil-
fain, then,”

“ Heisa better man than you ever dared to be.”

* Will you go home with me?”

4“ No \”

_ “Then he is a dead man.”

““Quit that, ye bloody spalpeen !” shouted
Mike Rafferty. ‘Would yez shoot the poor
prisoner?”

You sha’n’t kill him!” cried Nancy, as she
tan to Tressell and threw her arms around him.

But Kehoe’s finger pressed the trigger, and the
bullet from his pistol had a double death errand.

It passed through Nancy Trotter’s neck and
into the breast of Martin Tressel.

The man wavered for a moment; then blood
burst from his mouth, and he and the woman
fell heavily to the ground,

Kehoe put up his pistol, and ran across the old
field at the top of his speed,

“Murder! Murder!” shouted Mike Rafferty.

CHAPTER XVI.
FINDING A MOTHER:

Tum yells of the Irish lad brought forward
Jesse Siddals and Charley Beale, who hurried
back from their pole cutting, and were aston-
Sa and shocked by the sight that awaited

em,

The others were far beyond the reach of a
shout; but Adam Stocker soon came back with
the blankets he had been sent for, and after
awhile George Aglar and Tip drove up witha
wagon and horses, which they had found at a
negro cabin not far away.

By this time both of Kehoe’s victims were
dead, and Mrs, Tressell, who had again fainted,
had been with difficulty revived.

‘Who has done this?” demanded Aglar, and
the circumstances that led to the shooting were
aay to him as Mike Rafferty had detailed

em,

“Perhaps it is better so.” he said. ‘The man
was sure to die a violent death, and the only
ao is that he had not met his fate before

8. :

Billy Kehoe was then beyond pursuit, if any-
body had cared to pursue him. But there was
no disposition to do so. As Jesse Siddals said,
if they caught him they would have to kill
Sat and there had been enough of that sort of

a

 

|

 

were wrapped in the blankets which Stocker

“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Kehoe,” | had brought, and were laid away together.

The grave was filled up and marked, and that
was the last of Martin Tressell and Nancy
Trotter.

The old lady was joyfully welcomed back to
the ark by Ganymede, and it was a great relief
to her to find herself in her comfortable cabin,
after the toilsome and painful scenes through
which she had lately passed.

When George Aglar arrived with the rest of
the crew of the Search, he was brought into the
cabin and formally presented to her by Tip as
his uncle.

‘So Tip is the son of your sister as well .
as of my son,” she said. ‘I beg your pardon
for asking the’ question; but, were they: really
married?”

‘There is no! doubt of that,” replied Aglar.
“He has denied the marriage, but I have se-
cured the proofs, and my sister has them.”

“That is joyful news to me, Mr. Aglar. I
have taken a great fancy to Tip, and I am glad
to learn that 1am not the only relative he has
left. You are a very fortunate young fellow.
Tip, and you must forget your father, as I shail
try to. /

“T don’t see that I have much to forget,” an-
swered thelad. ‘He never cared a straw for
me, and [ ain’t likely to fret about bim.”

The next morning the Search was un-
moored, and Adam Stocker and Mike Rafferty
manned the sweeps, while Tip proudly ccn-
trolled the steeringsoar, and the ark drifted
down the bayou.

As she approached the Mississippi, George
Aglar was seated onthe steering-bench, con-
versing with his newly-found nephew, and con-
gratulating him on his good fortune.

“So I have really got a mother, and she is
alive,” said thelad. ‘‘ Where she is now, and
wher do you think I shall see her?”

“She went to New Orleans a while ago, bub
promised to return very soon, and I hope wa
will find her in Memphis when we get there.”

Jesse Siddals was seated on the roof, his feet
dangling over the forward end, It was neces-
sary for the ‘“‘Search” to get a tow up ths
river, and this was the business that was oc-
cupying his mind.

‘Let her swing well out into the stream,
Tip,” he ordered. ‘We may as well drift
down the river until we meet a steamboat that
will give us a tow. Hello! there’s one a’ready !”-

Around a bend below was heard the heavy
puffing of exhaust pipes, and soon a large
steamboat came into view, battling her way
with tremendous power against the swift cur-
rent of the mighty river.

Siddals brought out a signal flag and set it,
and the ark was urged by her sweeps out into
the stream, so that she might intercept the
steamboat,

 

 

 

 
 Fip Tressel,

the Floater. 81

 

8 i
She was in a fair way todo so, and Siddals
_ ‘was waving his hat and shouting for a tow,
when there was a dull and heavy explosion on
board of the big boat, followed by the rending
and shattering of wood, aud clouds of steam
arose from the midship and forward parts.
Then there were cries and screams of fear
and pain, and almost instantly flames broke out
and spread with great rapidity. ;
“Sweep her up, he for all you’re worth!”
shouted Siddals. ‘‘There’s work for us here.
Get out the boat, somebody!”
Tip had already loosed and jumped into the
skiff, and was pulling away with swift strokes,
George Aglar and Siddals bastened to help
the men at the sweeps to drive the ark toward
the burning boat, which was then drifting help-
lessly down-stream.
_ Fortunately there were but few passengers
on the steamboat. Fortunately, too, another

steamboat appeared on the scene, and joined in ,

_ the work of saving life. But the ark which
_was the first on the spot, rendered excellent
service.

_ As Tip drew near the steamboat he saw a
woman jump from the after guard into the ;
water, aud he pulled in that direction. |

She was struggling in the stream as he ap-
proached her, and he saw her sink.

/ Instantly he dropped his oars, dived after her

_ ard brought her to the surface. Bis

__Aman who had been swimming to the skiff
climbed in and took the oars. He rowed to Tip, |
and helped bim to lift the nearly drowned
woman into the boat.

Then the lad took the oars, and pulled to the

ark.
“My God! ‘it is my sister!” exclaimed George
Aglar, who had come forward to help take ber

aboard. ‘ Tip, it is your mother that you have
saved, if she reaily is saved.” ;
She was carried into the cabin, and the efforts
that were made to restore her to life were soon °
successful, 5
“ Don’t say anything to ber about Tip until

|

THE

she is fully recovered,” said Aglar. ‘ We must
not give her any kind of a shock just yet.”

When all bad been done in the life savin
business that could be done, George Aglar too
the skiff and rowed to the steamboat which had
come to the assistance of the burning boat, and
which had drifted down the river with the
wreck, ‘

He made a contract with the captain of the
steamboat for towing the ‘‘ Search ” up to Mem-

his, and the ark was brought alongsile the
pode, to which the people she had saved were
transferred, with the exception of Tip’s mother.

That lady had by this time regaincd her
strength, and her brother gave her a brief ac-
count of his expedition to Bayou Tunison, ivad-
ing up to the information of the discovery of

er boy. 5

“My son alive!” she exclaimed. ‘You told
me that he was dead.”

“That was what Martin Tressell said, and be
may have believed it; but he was mistaken,
Tip is alive, and he is on this boat, and it was
he who saved your life when you jumped over-
board.” :

“ Bring him to me at once!” :

The meeting of the mother and the son, asthe -
story writers say, can be better imagined than
deseribed. Tip found a handsome and young-
looking lady, whom he was proud to call mother,
_and she declared that the recovery of her boy
had repaid her for years of sorrow,

When the ark reached Memphis, Mrs. Tressel]
had determined to change her mode of lif», as
she no longer had a son to search for, She sold
her flatboat, liberally rewarded all who had
aided her, and hired a house in the city, where
she lived with her daughter-in-law and grand-
BOM 3 ‘ 7 ‘
A teacher was procured for Tip, who learned
rapidly, and in the course of time he entered
the business house of Simon & Aglar.

He is now an enterprising and successful
merchant in New Orleans.

END,

 
TELE DIB

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Extracts from the New York Evening Sun,

TWO REMARK ADEE

fn only one sense of bhe word can it be regarded av a
aovel statement when the fact is here recorded that litera-
ture has given many heroes to the world, and perhaps
more than one reader will have to think a moment over
this remark before the subtle delicacy of its genial wit
strikes home,

But it is most essentially a half dime novel statement
shat will be news to many when it is added that litera-
jure; if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam

‘as a mere child down to the present day, would show

t few heroes that in the eyes of boyhood would be
ven judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest

roes 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 suchas * * * be left
far behind in the race,

It ean be easily believed, therefory, that the two Dicks

© 80 firmly engrafted on the tree of popular literature
jor boys and young men, that their position is assured

* * and that they stand to-day head and shoulders

 

BORCHERS,
avove all rivals in the eves 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, no. 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 impenetrable mysteries.

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 walt hungrike
for the next volume, which on every Wednesday appear.
with the certainty of the Wednesday itself, and a new se.
of Cea thrills go thrilling away from Maine to Cali-
fornia, :

There are the volumes each so crowded with thrills and *
heart-tugs that it were madness to hope to 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 direc
tion, it would be cruel to The Hvening 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.

Deadwood Dick, the Priace of the Road
The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance
8 The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures
4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol
6 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval
& 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
9% Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick
in Danger
li Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to

Death
& Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood
B

ar
8 Buckhw.n Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team
4 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter
8 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane
6 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo
iv eee Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the
Gale
18 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand
18 Photograph Phil: or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance
20 Watch-Eye, the Shadow
91 Deadwood Dick's Device; or, The Sign of the Double
Cross
® vanada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief
2% Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or. A Strange Stroke
for Liberty
% Ocadwood Dick as Detective
®% Gilt-Kdge Dick
2% Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker; or, ''he Secret fwelve
27 Chip, the Girl Sport
38 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to fortune
Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks
eee” Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s
ule!
g londe Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base
lid Sam, the Boy Road- Agent.

 

33 Tony Fox, the Ferret: or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job

34 A Game of Gold: or. Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike

35 Deadwood Dick ot Deadwood: or, The Picked Party

86 New York Nel. the ox-Girl Detective

87 Nobby Nick of Nevada: or, The Scamps of the Sierras

88 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo

39 Deadwood Dick's Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last
Adventure

40 Deadwood Dick’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 Rogue¢

44 Detective Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator’s
Game

45 ‘The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme

46 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 é

49 Sierr: Sam, the Detective

50 sirtra Sain’s Double; or, The Three Female Det
Ives 2

51 Sivrra 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 Queen

54 Denver Doll as Detective

55 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Ruckskin the Sport

56 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss

57 Deadwood Dick Trapped ;

58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger. Boy’s
Fortune

59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport

60 Dumb Dick’s Pard: or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner

61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission

62 Spotter Fritz; or, The Store-Detective’s Deco

63 a Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa-

ras City
64 Belongs Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle
ings

 

M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers (James Sullivan, Proprietor),
879 Pearl Street, NEW YORK.