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THE KENTUCKY BOYS;

WILLING CAPTIVE.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
Brooklyn News Oo., No. 8 Front ot.

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
  
 

STP ST RE ~ —-
- - OS ae - %

THE KENTUCKY BOYS:

q

OR,

THH WILLING CAPTIY Hig
A TALE OF OHIO RIVER LIFE.
BY J. STANLEY HENDERSON.

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREEHT. ,

 
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1864,

wy Buapiy xp Company, in the Clerk’s office of the District Court of the United
‘ States for the Southern Pistrict of New York,

 
THE

WILLING

CAP Lis

 

CHAPTER I.

“ Down the River” —Timpson Potherby, Hsq.,
as a Diplomatist.

Ir was a beautiful afternoon in July,
when the splendid steamer, Forest City,
bound from Louisville to New Orleans, was
sailing down the placid and beautiful Ohio.
The calm river was more than ordinarily
beautiful, in the warm and balmy air of that
glorious summer afternoon. The water was
almost level with the banks, which were
covered with a luxuriant and almost trop-
ical growth-of the richest verdure. Tall
trees, that seemed to grow out of the limpid
element itself, raised their heads toward
heayen, and stretched their giant arms far
out over the stream. Great snake-like vines,
the wild grape, ivy of different varieties, and
the gorgeous trumpet-creeper hung and
twined about these monarchs of the forest,
making them a mass of green, from their
well-watered roots to their topmost boughs.
Lesser trees, and shrubs, and bushes, with
all sorts of verdant shades in their abundant
foliage, hung over the water, as if admiring
their own beauty in the bright mirror be-
neath them. It seemed that all trees, vines,
shrubs, flowers and grasses, might have
stepped out of the far forest on that brilliant
afternoon, and had come down to drink of
the clear water of the river, or to lave
themselves in the cooling element. Or, per-
haps, they had sought the stream in the
early morning, as soon as the sunshine
flecked their foliage with gold, and had re-
mained, enchanted by the view, or whisper-
ing love-words to their friends on the other
side of the river. Itseemed a wonder that
they were not frightened away by the puff-
ing and snorting of the Forest City, as she
tore the river into foam, and swept the
wayes to either shore. But they remained,

and if they were not duly admired by the
passengers who were privileged to gaze
upon them from the decks of the steamer,
it was not the fault of their own beauty.

If it takes all sorts of people to make a
world, one would have needed only to travel,
in those days, upon a first-class Western
steamer, to see the greatest possible variety
of the human element in the smallest pos-
sible compass. It would require a chapter
to give the briefest enumeration of the dif
ferent characters that had been thrown to-
gether on the Forest City that beautiful July
afternoon ; but, as we have to do only with
a few of them, we will give the motley
crowd the go-by.

Dinner was over on the Forest City, and
Captain Spotters, who delighted in seeing
his guests enjoy themselves and eat until
they were ready to burst, had presided at
his generous table in his usual urbane man-
ner, and was enjoying his regalia, seated on
the shady side of the guard, with his feet ele-
vated on the rail, and his eyes attentively
contemplating his boots.

While he sat there, in that pleasant frame
of mind, he -was approached by a gentleman
whose looks, dress, voice and manner were
unmistakably English. He was a rather
elderly gentleman, certainly past fifty, large
without being ungainly, and portly without
being corpulent. His heavy cutaway coat,
his thick, Englishy vest and pantaloons, and
his stout gaiters evidently had not been in-
tended for the climate in which he then
found himself; while his queer, round-
topped hat, and his flaring, mutton-chop
whiskers, had attracted general attention;
and had caused many a side-laugh among
the rough farmers and backwoodsmen, who
mingled with the more refined elements in
the steamer’s cabin.

This gentleman was named Potherby—

 
     
   
 
  
     
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
   
   
   
   
   
    
   
  
  
 
   

‘Timpson Potherby, Zsq—an Englishman
of wealth and education, who was making
the “tour” of the United States, accom-
panied by his daughter, Annie, a sprightly
and beautiful girl of nineteen summers and
nota winter.
_ The foreigner relaxed his haughty look,
_ and slightly raised his hat as he approached
the captain.
~ “T believe [have the honor of addressing
Captain—Captain—”
__ * Spotters, sir; that’s my name,” said the
- good-natured officer, as he rose and extended
his hand. “Captain Aleck Spotters I’m
generally called.”
_ “My name is Potherby—Timpson Poth-
erby. I am an Englishman, sir, and am
traveling through your country to see what
is to be seen.”
_ “Happy to make your acquaintance,”
said the captain. ‘“ Won’t you take a seat,
sir? It’s quite cool and shady on this guard.
You vot aboard at Louisville, I believe.
_ Hope youtve been satisfied with the trip so
r, Mr. Potherby ?” N
_ “Very much pleased, I am obliged to
you. Allow me to light my cigar.”
_ “$0 you are traveling around to see the
- country,” said the captain, as Mr. Potherby
puffed his weed. “ There’s a great deal of
it, sir, and it would make a mighty big
farm if it was fenced in. Reckon you don’t
xpect to see it all before you go back to
_ the old country ?” ’
-“T haye no desire to see it all, sir, only
what is worth seeing. There isn’t much of
that, to be sure, and a man is obliged to

_ But you see a great deal while you are
traveling, don’t you? Seems to me a trip
down this river can show you something
worth seeing.”

“J had heard a great deal about the

jestic; but the scenery here is quite tame
and commonplace. It’s nothing like the
“Thames, you know.”

_. “T never saw the Thames,” said the cap-
m, “and the Obio will do very well for
“me. I doubt whether I should ever find its
jual anywhere, to my notion. You Eng-
; mn have your prejudices, sir, and we
Americans have ours; and I hope we can
tt along in a friendly manner, without
ig each other against the grain.”

‘ %

 
  

Phe Wilting Captive.

vo

“T hope so, Captain Spotters, but I must
say that I expected to see a larger river

than this.”

“Tt is the best we cun do at present, Mr.
Potherby. The Ohio is young yet, and
hasn’t got its growth. When we get to the
Mississippi, you wll see a big river. But
the Mississippi was discovered first, you
know, and had a better chance. When it
was first found, I have heard, it was so nar-
row that you could jump across it. The
Ohio isn’t what it ought to be, of course ;
but it has got a start now, and is growing
right fast.”

“Indeed! You surprise me! I was
not aware that that was a characteristic of
your rivers. By the way, Captain Spotters,
this is an excellent cigar.”

“It’s nothing else, sir, if ’ma judge. I
have nothing to do with the bar of the boat
myself, except to see that the very best of
liquors and cigars are kept there.”

“T don’t know about your liquors, sir, as
I have not sampled them; but I doubt
whether you have any thing on board as
good as some brandy I brought over with
me. I have a flask of it in my pocket,” he
continued, ‘‘ and can prove my words.”

So saying, he produced a wicker-covered
hunting-flask, and handed it to the captain.

“Tf you have no objection, Mr Pother;
by,” said the captain, as he gazed pleasantly
at the “beaded bubbles winking at the
brim,” “I would like to propose the health
of that beautiful young lady—your daugh-
ter, I suppose—who is registered as Miss
Potherby.”

“Certainly, sir,’ answered the English-
man, with a gratified air. “She ¢s my
daughter, sir, and I must confess that I feel
proud of her. Won’t you try some more
of the brandy ?” he continued, as . Captain
Spotters returned the flask and glass.

“Not at present, I thank you. Besides,
I am afraid [have done wrong. The health
of one so lovely should be pledged only in
the choicest and rarest wine.”

“T am afraid, captain, that you are a
flatterer. But your mention of my daugh-
ter reminds me that I wished to speak
with you concerning her.
trust that what I am about to say to you
will be regarded as confidential.”

“ Certainly, sir; if you wish it.”

The Englishman edged his chair nearer

to that of the captain, and spoke in a low

tone. :

 

 

I suppose I may

 

an

 

 
Obtrusivé Attentions. 7

C HAP PER lly

Harry. Hanson and Annie—Piot and
Counterplot.

“ HAVE you noticed,” said Mr. Potherby,
as Captain Spotters inclined his ear to listen,
“a young man who has been speaking to
my daughter on several occasions, and who
seems to follow her with his eyes wherever
she goes? The young man, I mean, who
sat opposite her at dinner.”

“T can’t say that
in particular,” ans

have noticed any one
ered the captain.

“The young man I speak of,” continued
Mr. Potherby, “is a tall and shapely young
fellah, with black hair and eyes, and a
black mustache. He wears a straw hat
with a broad brim, and has, as I think, a
y bold and audacious expression.”
‘Oh-h-h !” ejaculated Captain Spotters,
“T think you must mean Harry Hanson, as
he answers the d ption exactly.”

“ Fanson—yes, sir; that is the name.
It may secm incredible to you, Captain
Spotters, but I assure you that that young
fellah met us while we.were traveling in
Ohio, and been following us closely
ever lis attentions have been quite
obtrusiv He obtained an introduction to
me in Louisville, and on a short acquaint-
ance he actually had the impudence to ask
permission to pay his addresses to my
daughter.”

“ Well, sir. It was very polite in him
to ask, I am sure. y Hanson comes
of one of the best families of Kentucky.”

“That is all very well, captain; but the
best families of Kentucky, and the best
families of England are two very different
things. I him, sir—of course I
refused him—point blank; but the young

  
 

 

 

  

      

 

   

 

 

refused

fellah follows me up, sir, and persists in an- ,

noying me—annoying me, sir !”

“Jam sorry that you are annoyed, sir,”
said the imperturbable captain, “but I do
not see how it can be avoided.”

“Tf you will assist me, captain, I can get
rid of the annoyance. At the next landing
you can easily induce this young fellah to
go ashore, for game, or for some other pur-
pose, and then you can shove off your boat
and leave him.”

The blood of the gallant captain had
boiled at the Englishman’s contemptuous

mention of Kentucky families, but he had.

The proposi-
yas too much

restrained his indignation.
tion of Potherby, however,
, tor Spotters’ temper to stand.

“T will pay you, Captain Spotters,” said
the Englishman; “I will pay you well—
any sum you may ask—if you will help me
to get rid of this annoyance.”

“Sir!” exclaimed the captain, as he rose
to his feet, with a flushed face, and witha
bitter sneer on his lip, “you may talk as
you please of the best families of England,
but I can tell you that there is no better
blood than runs in Kentucky veins, and if
you were not a passenger, I should be apt
to say something severe, If you think
that I would treat anybody on this boat in
the way you ask me to, you are mightily
mistaken, for I wouldn’t do that to the
lowest deck-passenger you could grub up.
And you offer me money for such a mean
action! Why, you British swell, I feel as
if I could chop you into cord-wood; for
such an insult. No, sir; you must hoe
your own row, and look after your own
chicken-coep, for you can’t make old Aleck
Spotters a watch-dog to bark about your
premises—not if he knows himself,”

Potherby stormed and fumed for a few
moments, but cooled down, seeing that his
anger was unavailing, and declared his in-
tention of leaving the hoat at the first eli-
gible landing.

“You can leave the boat when you
” said the decided officer. “If you
wish to make the trip with me, you will be
treated well, but you can’t get Aleck Spot-
ters to do any of your dirty work for you
—not a bit of it, Mr. Bull.”

“Jeems River!” exclaimed the captain,
as the indignant Englishman entered ‘the
cabin. “Tm _ blessed, if the bullying
Britisher hasn’t lighted down on Harry
Hanson! He'll find him a hard nut to
crack, I can tell him, and he had better let
the boy alone. If Harry wanis that girl,
and is determined to have her, he 277] have
her, in spite of all the Englishmen who
ever crossed the ocean. I will hunt up the
boy, and learn what he means todo. If
T can help him any in the matter, I believe
I will do it, if only out of spite at her
father’s insolent talk.”

While Timpson Potherby was seeking
his daughter, for the purpose of telling her
to get ready to leave the boat at the next
good landing, and while honest Captain
Spotters was “hunting up” his young
friend, those two young people, Annie
Potherby and Harry Hanson, were cau-
cusing together, on the after-guard of the
boat, in blissful unconsciousness of the

choose,

 
 
 

Indeed, all the time that Mr. Potherby was
 diplomatizing with Captain Spotters, and
‘endeavoring to induce that incorruptible
commander to aid him in his designs
against Harry, the audacious young gentle-
“man was quietly and cosily talking with
_ Annie, in a retired place on the after-guard,
- near the ladies’ cabin.
__ They were talking of love, of course, as
' well they might, “for both were young,
and one was beautiful.” Harry Hanson
very naturally thought that he, as a free-
‘born and independent American, had a
‘natural right to make love to whoever he
pleased, and if Queen Victoria had been the
_ object of his choice, he would not have
considered her above or beyond him.
_ Harry had first met Annie Potherby,
not, as her father had stated to the captain,
while they were traveling in Ohio, but at a
watering-place in New York, where he had
first been struck by her beauty, and where
his handsome form and manly qualities had
first endeared him to her. With his natu-
_ ral ardor, he had rapidly followed up his
advantages, and had pressed ‘his suit earn-
» estly, until he was assured that her heart
was entirely his. At Louisville, having
obtained an introduction to the father, he
‘had asked her hand, and had been indig-
"nantly, if not insolently, refused. Nothing
daunted by this rebuff, he took passage on
‘ the Forest City, to accompany them to
; New Orleans, greatly to the annoyance, as
_ we have seen, of Timpson Potherby, Esq.
E : They must, surely, have been talking of
love, for Annie was blushing, when she
heard in the cabin a step that she recognized.
_ “ You must leave me, Harry,” she hastily
said, “for pa is coming, and he will be
very angry if he sees us together.”
“Never mind, Annie,” answered her
; “Let him be angry. He will be
glad enough to get pleased again, after a
while. Only be sure to do as I have told
you, and all will be well. Have no fear,

aie will, Harry,” was the confiding an-
mee as she sap Atie™ lovingly up in his dark

 

 

The tg ‘Cksptso

z they” had been aati for some time.

   
    
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
     
    
   
   
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
    
    
  
   
 
   
 
   
  
    
 
  
   
 
 
  

ing in too close proximity to that contra-
band article, his daughter.

“ Annie,” said he, in a severe tone, “go
into the cabin. Mr—a—Hanson,I wish
to speak with you.”

Annie Potherby did as she was bid, and
Harry Hanson bowed in silence.

“ Mr.—a—Hanson,” commenced Poth-
erby, with a great assumption of dignity,
“J informed you, sir, at Louisville, that I
did not desire you to pay your addresses to
my daughter, or to be in her company.
Your presence on this boat, sir, is an an-
noyance to us, especially as you continue
the course of conduct which I have ex-
pressly requested you to discontinue.”

“Will you give me any just reason, sir,”
asked Harry, “ for your objection to me?”

“TJ have nothing more to say to you, sir,
except to request you to hold no, more
communication with my daughter. If you
persist in endeavoring to do so, I shall be
obliged to take such measures with her, as
will prevent a repetition of the annoyance.”
So saying, Timpson Potherby, Esq., stalked

‘grandly and loftily away.

“The bigoted old humbug!” thought
Harry, as he sauntered down the guard.
“Tf he supposes that his pompous airs will
frighten me, he is barking up the wrong
tree. When he is my father-in-law, I will
teach him sense.”

“Harry, Harry!” exclaimed Captain
Spotters, who had been seeking for the
young man. “I was looking for you.
Have you seen that bloody Britisher lately ?
I have something to tell you about him.”

The captain then took Harry aside, and
related the conversation that he had had
with the father of Annie, and concluded by
asking his young friend what he intended’
to do, and if he, Captain Spotters, could be
of any service to him.

“TI don’t know,” said Harry. “TI have
an idea, but can’t see how you could help ©
me.”

He then made the captain sit down, and
eagerly whispered to him for a few mo-
ments.

“You're right, my boy !” exclaimed Cap-
tain Spotters, when Harry had finished.
“ You're right, and I'll bet my bottom dol:
lar on you. Youre brash enough, and
game as a bantam, I know. Go in and
win, my chicken, and rely upon old Aleck
Spotters for any thing that he can do.” __

:

 

  

 

 
The Young Lady Missing. 9

GCHAPTEH R11:
The Wood-yard—Potherby tn Trouble.

Mr. Potrnersy lectured his daughter un-
til supper-time, but could not prevent her,
at that meal, from smiling on her friend,
who naturally seemed to take delight in
annoying the testy old gentleman.

When supper was over, Annie retired to
the ladies’ cabin, and her father walked out
on the guard, to enjoy his cigar.

Night fell upon the Ohio, shutting in the
beautiful shores, and covering the dark
waters as with a robe. There was no
moon, but a few little stars, now and then,
peeped daringly out between the clouds.

The Forest City was getting short of
wood, and it became the duty of Captain
Spotters to procure a supply of the requi-
site fuel. Accordingly the great steamer
was rounded to on the left bank of the
river, and tied up at the nearest wood-yard.
The wide gang-planks were run out; iron
torch-baskets, filled with blazing pine-
knots, were placed on the bank and at the
bow of the boat; the merry deck-hands,
white and black, ran out singing, and
brought back their burdens of cord-wood.
Several passengers, male and female, strayed
ashore, to see what could be seen, while
the process of “ wooding-up” was going on.
As is often the case at solitary wood-yards,
there was no owner oragent of the wood
on shore to take an account of it, but that
matter was well understood. The “ mud-
clerk” measured the wood as it was corded
up, the mate saw that it was carried in,
and the bill would be paid on the next trip.

So the Forest City received her supply
of wood, and again started on her way
down the broad Ohio. All was quiet as
usual on board, except the occasional
wrangling of card-players in the cabin.
The time slipped away easily until ten
o'clock or thereabouts.

Mr. Potherby, having finished his cigar,
and having mad¢ some notes in the diary
which he might or might not thereafter
publish for the edification of his country-
men, concluded .to retire. But before he
sought his state-room, he thought it best to
inquire concerning his daughter, to make
sure that she had not disobeyed his com-
mands, and was not at that time in. com-
munication with the unpleasant and auda-
cious Yankee.

He invaded the sacred precincts of the

ladies’ cubin; he sought for Annie upon

the guards of the boat, but he saw nothing
of her. He called for the chambermaid,
and interrogated that sable female as to the
whereabouts of Miss Potherby ; the cham-
bermaid declared that she “hadn’t seen
nuffin ob de young lady, sence ‘de lag’
wood-yard whar’ de boat stopped at.” She
opened Annie’s state-room, and ldoked in;
it was empty.

Mr. Potherby was in trouble. He was
more than troubled; he was frightened.
He rushed frantically to the forward part
of the boat, where he found Captain Spot-
ters on duty.

“ Captain Spotters! Captain Spotters !”’
shrieked the afflicted Englishman. “ Stop
the boat! I have lost—stop her—stop
her !”

“ ‘What's the matter, sir?” asked the cap-
tain, quite calmly. “Don’t go crazy ina
minute. Tell me what the trouble is, and
I will see what can be done.”

As briefly and plainly as the excited
condition of his nerves would allow, Mr.
Potherby informed the captain that he had
missed his daughter, and had sought for
her in vain.

Spotters and some of the passengers, as-
sisted by Harry Hanson, immediately in-
stituted a search for the missing young lady,
Every nook and corner of the Forest City
was thoroughly ransacked, but she was not
to be found. Mr. Potherby was in despair.

“She is drowned!” he exclaimed. © “I
know she is drowned, and I shall never see
her again !”

“T don’t see how that can be,” argued
Captain Spotters. “There would have been
some splash, or cry, or something of the
kind, that would certainly have been heard
by some one on the hoat.”

Then up spoke Tim Tupper. Tim was
the body-servant of Timpson Potherby,
Esq., and was proud of the position. He
did not object to being called “ flunkey” by
the ignorant Yankees, as he rather gloried
in the title of being servant to an English
gentleman. He was a neat, dapper, little,
round-abouted, smooth-shayen, short-haired
chap, who had never, until this excursion,
been out of Aold Hengland, and he was very
cautious what ground he trod upon in this
wild and barbarous country. His predom-
inant trait was unbounded respect for his
master, to serve whom he was always ready
to overstep the limits of his ordinary cau-
tiousness.

“ Hif you please, sir, Mr. Potherby, sir,

 
UPise

   
   
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
    
 
   
 
   
 
 
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
   
 
    
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
   

: s think Ls saw the young Yeaaig:3 ha-goin’ hout
ashore With the rest, and a-carryin’ of some-
. thin’ in’er ’and.”

'. “Why didn’t you speak to me, you vil-
lain? Do you suppose I would allow her
_ off the boat at night ?”

', “Twas a-brushin’ of your coat, sir, Mr.
_ Potherby, sir, and as I Aain’t Miss Potherby’ 3
‘man, I didn’t know anythin’ about her.”

“ Silence !”

“Tf you mean that young lady who was
dressed in brown,” said an old farmer, who
had been listening in silence to Mr. Pother-
by’s account of his trouble, “ I think I saw
her ashore at the last wood-yard. Jack
Turpie and some others were ashore at the
same time.”

“Jack Turpie!” exclaimed Hanson.
“Why, he is one of the most notorious
thieves and scoundrels in these parts. He
was formerly connected, I think, with Mur-
‘rell’s gang of river robbers.”

“That's so,” said Captain Spotters. “ The
country agound and back of that wood-yard
is one of the worst places on the river, and
that Jack Turpie is the leader of the gang
of outlaws who now infest it. Many’s the
a man, and woman, too, for that matter, that
they have carried off and kept till they
could get a heavy ransom.”

“My God!’ exclaimed Mr. Potherby.
“Do you call this a civilized country ? No;
it is a howling w ilderness, and its inhabit
ants are savages!”

“Look-a-here, stranger,” ‘began the old
~ farmer who had spoken, as he drew himself
“up belligerently ; but he was. stopped by a
gesture from Captain Spotters.

_ “Why do you aliow such thieves and cut-
throats to trayel on your boat?” continued
- poor Mr. Potherby. “You ought to be
. given into custody for collusion with out-
TAY. laws.”

“Tt is none of our business,” said. the
eaptain. “We are obliged to carry all who
come, if they pay their fare and behave
- themselves. If the Old Harry himself
should buy a ticket to New Orleans, we
‘would have to take him, though I don’t
” think jhe would go, any further than Cairo.
: ~The first thing to be done, sir, is to see
_ whether that Jack Turpie is on board the
“boat.”

_. Search was accordingly made for the al-
“teged outlaw, but in vain. Neither bag nor
Ss baggage, hide nor hair of him was to be
It. was evident that he had got off

 

4 : é ; * ae :
et he ' a
we

 

The L Witting Captive

the boat at ‘the ee and it seemed,

eprabamts: also, that Annie Potherby had in

some way been left at the same place.

“Stop the boat!” cried the Englishman.
“Turn the boat back, Captain Spotters, and
let us séarch around the wood-yard.”

“Tt can’t. be done, sir,” said the captain.
“Tam bound to make Cairo on schedule
time, and would lose half my trip if I didn’t
get there before morning.”

“T will pay you, sir.
will pay you well.”

Poor rich Potherby—he truly was in a fix,
and even Harry commiserated his condition.
But the afflicted parent was too proud for
anybody’s pity, and he proceeded to arrange
his baggage for leaving the steamer at Cairo.

Mr. Potherby’s baggage was hardly pre-
pared, when the Forest City was “ nose on”
at the mud-walled city of Cairo.

Mr. Potherby’s baggage, with that of
Annie, was placed upon the old hulk that
served as a wharf, and was followed by him-
self and Tim. Harry Hanson, with his
valise, also left the boat.

I am rich, and

GFER APTS Re EVs
The Wharf Hulk.

Ir was about the darkest part of the night
when Mr. Potherby and his servant were
landed at the bank of mud, with a few
shanties and flat-boats scattered around and
upon it. These, then, constituted Cairo, the
“Eden” of Martin Chuzzlewit. A dim
lantern, that hung on the old wharf hulk, lit
a passage across it. A red light was also
burning, to indicate to passing steamers
where they should land. Besides these there
was no light, with the exception of the
torch-basket of the Forest City.

The business of that steamboat was soon
finished; Captain Spotters bade his late
passengers farewell, and told them to
“take care of themselves”—an injunction
to which Potherby replied by a moan; the
boat backed out from the landing, and, in a
short time, was steaming down the rapid
current of the Mississippi, and was quickly
lost to view. .

There was a bar on the hulk, as a
matter of course. At that institution Mr.
Potherby, leaving Tim Tupper in charge of
his baggage, made grandiloquent inquiries,
to which the barkeeper replied shortly and

carelessly. The Briton soon learned that

there was potas like a Pee , osconee

* “ s.

1 ME 5 en RS wei

eitego Ps < vee

dss oid ae ea sat

 

 

 
 

A Night with the Musketoes. 11

shanty up on the bank ; that the night was
as dark as pitch, and the levee knee-deep in
mud; and that, if he wanted to go back up
the river, the John Dobbin, for Cincinnati,
was expected every hour.

“You had better stop here,” was the
advice of the barkeeper, “ until the boat
comes.”

Mr, Potherby looked out at the shore,
and saw nothing before him but a black
bank, in which awkward chasms were
dimly ‘discernible. The Briton was satisfied
that there was no exit in that direction, and
resigned himself to remaining where he was.
But he had no idea of losing sight of his
baggage, which he caused Tim to pile to-
gether, and then he sat down upon a trunk,
thinking sadly of his lost Annie.

As he sat there, his ears were greeted by
the unmelodious hum of thousands of in-
sects, that seemcd to fill the air around him.
Nearer and nearer, louder and louder swelled
the demoniac diapason, sounding as if it
might be the howling of legions of diminu-
tive, atrial wolves.

They were not long in giving him tangible
proofs of their presence. In swarms they
settled on his face, neck and hands, every
insertion of their poisonous bills causing an
itching that was almost intolerable to the
tourist. Evidently the musketoes had found
a fresh and full-blooded subject.

“ Gracious ’eavens !” exclaimed Potherby,
his excitement causing him to be oblivious of
his h’s, “ what blaasted creatures are these ?”

“Caan’t say, sir, Mr. Potherby, sir,” said
Tim Tupper, who was rubbing himself vig-
orously, and wildly beating the air. “Tm
a-thinkin’ that the Hold ’Arry—savin’ your
honor’s presence—must ’ave got after us,
for I hitch like a Scotchman.”

“ Themy’s only muskeeter :

3, sir,” explained
the barkeeper ; “ but there ain’t many of ’em
here—nothing like what they are down to
Hickman. You ought to land there once.”

“Skeeters !” said a rough-looking man,
who had been coiled up on a cotton-bale.
“ Why, thar’ ain’t no skecters here now to
*count of; but sometimes they’re onaccount-
able, as big as hornets, and wuss pison.”

“The musketoes do not appear to trouble
you, sir,” said Potherby. “ Is it because you
are accustomed to them ?”

“Bless yer life, stranger, I was clean
sucked dry, long ago! I hain’t no blood into
me now, ’cetin’ whisky, and I hey to keep
a-warmin’ of that up with some of the same,
else I shuuld collapse of a sudden.”

 

“Gracious ’eavens !” again exclaimed the
tortured Briton, “I can’t stand this any long-
er! Is there no way of escaping trom these
’orrible insects ?”

At this:juncture Harry Hanson, who had
been opening his valise, stepped forward.

“Tf you will kindly permit me, sir,” said
the young man, “I can relieve you of that
annoyance, at least.”

“ Without waiting for the permission, he
produced a piece of musketo-netting, which
he deftly fastened upon Mr. Potherby’s hat,
and attached the lower portion to his coat-
collar.

The effect was almost magical. The en-
raged insects buzzed and hummed about the
Englishman, but could no longer touch his
red face or neck.

“Now, sir,” said Harry, “if you will coy-
er your hands, the musketoes will be unable
to hurt you.”

“ Ah, really,” said Potherby, as he drew
on his gloves, “I am obliged, sir—actually
obliged, Mr.—a—Hanson.” ®

This agony over, the Briton was begin-
ning to doze, when he was aroused by Tim
Tupper, whom the musketoes would not
permit to snatch a wink of sleep.

“Mr. Potherby, sir,” said he, “ just listen,
if you please. Inever’eard such ’orrid talk
in hall my life.”

Sure enough, voices were plainly heard in
careless conversation on the outside guard
of the boat, close to the bulkhead by which
Potherby and his servant were sitting.

“ What did you git out of that feller you
knifed the other night, Tom?” asked one
voice.

“ Nothin’ to speak of. Only a watch and
a few dollars. It was jest about the poor-
est spec of the season.”

“ What did you do with him ?”

“The squire wanted to hold an inquest
on him, to git some money out of the coun-
ty, but I give him ten dollars, and, stopped
that. Then he wanted me to bury him over
on the island; but I wasn’t goin’ to the ex-
pense of a pine-box; so I chucked him into
the river.”

“ Wonder who laid out that feller down
on the Pint ?”

“Don’t know. ‘’Twarn’t none of my
work, you may be sure. Is he lyin’ thar
yet ?”

“Yes, and the hogs have been at him.”

“ You don’t say! Well; that’s what I call
right down mean. , A man ought allers to

clean up his work arter it’s done, and not

 
 
 

eave it udein! around in sich an onchris-
tian way. You never ketch me doin’ busi-
. ness in that style—no, sir!”
‘The squire has had a heap of coroner’s
work to ’tend to, since you come here, Tom.”
“yes, I reckon I’ve helped him along
_ some. But, what can a feller do? The
river's up, and thar’s nobody stoppin’ here
now, to play poker with, and a man must
live, It seems kinder rough, I know ; but,
when a feller gits down to that sort of work,
he’s apt to, like it.”
: Timpson Potherby, Esq., felt his blood
grow cold, and his flesh creep, as he listen-
ed to this bloodthirsty conversation, while
Tim Tupper trembled and shivered as he sat
close by his master.

But if this experience appalled them,
‘what must have been their feelings as they
continued to listen!

: “Do you know, Tom,” asked the first
' _-yoice, “that some officers have come down
from up in the State, after Sam Packer ?”
Poet “Yes; they say he carried the thing too
far, when he cut up that Britisher. But
_' Sam says he’s goin’ to leave the place on
the John Dobbin, when she comes up, and
if the officers try to stop him, thar’ll be blood
shed on this boat.”

“Would you help him, Tom ?”

“Tn course I would, so long as I had a
- pistol that would shoot, or a knife that

would bite. If Sam is willin’ to leave the

_ State quietly, they hain’t no right to bother
- him. I don’t blame him, neither, for havin’
.. a Spite agin’ the Britishers, for that’s nateral
to all of us; and, besides, one of ’em come
along, who purtended to teach him some
outlandish game called cribbage, and beat
him out of three hundred dollars and his

 wharever he finds ’em, and he’s right, too.”
Timpson Potherby, Esq., was frightened.
He was more than frightened—he was hor-
ror-struck. His portly form shook, and his
knees trembled. Could such things be?
_ The bloody tales that he had heard were
enough of themselves to strike terror to the
_ ‘stoutest heart, but the fear of anticipation
"was even stronger. What should he do in
- this emergency? How could he hope to
save his life; even with the loss of his prop-
erty? There was no hope in Tim Tupper,
_ who crouched down by his master’s side,
and shook as if with the ague. On whom
could he rely, in this hour of peril? On
ewhet rer could he sii and be assured of

 

The Willing Captive

_ watch. So, he’s jist sworn to slaughter’em ,

   
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
   
   
  
    
  
 
  
   
  
    
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
     
   
 
 
  
 

CHAPTER V.
A Bargain—Bill Wilson and Old Reub.

Harry Hanson, calm and silent, was
standing in the “ gangway,” gazing out at
the river. Mr. Potherby had a great strug-
gle with his pride, as he looked at the tall
form of the young man, but pride was con-
quered by fear.

“Tim,” he whispered to his man Friday,
who was cowering by his side, “step to
that—a—gentleman, who is standing there,
Mr.—a—Hanson, and tell him I would like
to speak with him.”

Tim crept quietly and fearfully to the
young man, and delivered the message.
When Harry, in obedience to the request,
stepped over to where that afflicted Briton
was sitting, Tim keptas close to him as he
could, as if there was protection in his shadow.

“Mr.—a—Hanson,” said Potherby, “I
have been an unwilling listener to a most
horrible conversation.”

“Such talk is often heard in this place,”

answered the young man. “For my part I
am accustomed to it, and take no notice
of it.”

“Tt seems that we are in the midst of
robbers and assassins.”

“No doubt of that, sir. There are plenty:

of men about here, who would take life
without any scruple.”

“T have heard that one of them has a bit-
ter animosity toward Englishmen, and has
lately murdered one of my countrymen.”

“Sam Packer, you mean, I suppose. If
you will have the kindness to permit me to
assist you, sir, you need have no fear of him,
as he will never molest any one who is un-
der my protection.”

“J understand that he proposes to take

passage by the same boat on which I desire |

to travel.”

“Tf you will permit me to act for you,

sir, I will guarantee that he does not set foot
on the boat.”

“T am really—a—greatly——_a—obliged to
you, Mr.—a—Hanson. I feel quite re-
lieved.” '

Tim Tupper, emboldened by the presence
and promises of Hanson, rose to his feet,
and actually dared to step out on the guard,
to look at the river; but, he soon came
hastening back, with faltering steps.

“Oh, Mr. Potherby, sir,’ he began, ce

’eard those murderers a-torkin’, sir, and I. |

ided be’ind a box, sir, and one of ’em was
axin’ Y the patie, sir, that he wondered ‘ow

   
 

 

 

‘ae

     
   

ao

4

 

   
 

  

  
Ww ww es

Limber Jim. 13

that chap, \a-settink onto the trunk, would
cut up, sir. Indeed he did, and he meant
you, Mr. Potherby, sir, and oh! can’t we
get away froin this ’orrid ’ole?”

“Be quiet, man!” said Harry Hanson.
“Mr. Potherby, let me beg you to compose
yourself. I will defend you, sir, with my
life. Are you armed ?”

“T have a pistol,’ answered the Briton,
“but it has never been fired off, to my
knowledge.”

With considerable difficulty, he extricat-
ed a small revolver from an inside pocket,
and gave it to Hanson.

“This would be of some service,” said
the young man, “if it was in order. With
your permission, I will load it properly for
you in the morning. In the mean time, my
arms will serve for both, if need be! but, it
is not probable that these scoundrels will
trouble any one who is in company with a
Man who knows them.”

“T thank you, sir. You may remember,
hereafter, Mr. ‘Hanson, that I, Timpson
Potherby, am obliged to you; and if I can
ever repay the obligation—”

“You can do so now, Mr. Potherby,”
interrupted Hanson, “ by permitting me to
be of real service to you. Pardon my ea-
gerness, sir, but I must assure you that the
business you haye in hand is very danger-
ous, and that you will, in all probability,
meet with even rougher and more danger-
ous experiences than you have encountered
here. It is absolutely necessary, as Captain
Spotters said, that you should have with you
men who understand the country and the
people. I am well acquainted with both,
sir, and can find, even in this place, the
very men who would be best able to aid you
in such an enterprise. As for myself, I
ought not to speak of my prowess, but,
every one who knows me can tell you that
Henry Clay Hanson never feared man or
beast.”

“will you promise not to interfere with
my Annie?” asked Potherby, looking’ dis-
trustfully at the handsome and animated
face of the young man.

“T will promise any thing you wish, sir,
if you will only alow me to assist you in
your search. If I can be the means of re-
storing to you your lovely daughter, I shall
consider myself largely rewarded.”

“T—a—thank you, Mr. Hanson. You
have taken'quite a load off my mind. It
shall be.as you say, sir, and you may ac-
company me on the steamboat when it ar-

rives. But you must remember your prom-
ise about Annie.”

“J will endeavor to do so, sir, but the
first thing is to find her, and I must make
my preparations. Here, you Jim, Limber
Jim! Step up here, for you ‘are wanted.”

The rough-looking man, who had en-
lightened Mr. Potherby on the subject of
the “skeeters,” slowly uncoiled himself,
slid off the bale of cotton on which he was
lying, and approached the group.

When this singular-looking mortal had
raised himself to his full hight, he ap-
peared to be a man about six feet high, and
slim in proportion. His legs swayed hither
and thither, and bent like reeds in a gale, as
he dragged along his broad, flat feet, and
his long arms dangled aimlessly about, as
if they’ were tied to his elbows with bits of
string. His face was long, gaunt and
skinny, and its adornments were a wide
mouth, a large nose, and little, twinkling,
gray eyes.

“Here is one man, Mr. Potherby,” said
Hanson, “who will be very useful to us.
He is known as Limber Jim, and there is
not a man in the country who can bark a
squirrel at a greater distance than he can.”

“Glad to know ye, stranger,” said the
long man, as he held out his great hand to
Mr. Potherby. ‘“ Jeems Streeter is my name,
sir; leastways, it’s my maiden name, but
since I come to this yere kentry, I've been
diptized ag’in, and they ginerally call me
Limber Jim, along of my bein’ well ’iled in
the j’ints, I s’pose.”

“Are your arms: here?” asked Harry.
“T shall want you to go up the river with
me, and strike into the woods, in the morn-
ing.”

“ Rifle’s on the boat, Mr. Hanson.”

“That will do. Stay here and take care
of this gentleman, while I go ashore. I
will return shortly.”

When Harry left, Mr. Potherby, whose
nerves had been considerably shaken by his
anxiety and fright, thought that asip of his
excellent brandy would revive and strength-
en him. Accordingly, he-produced his flask,
filled the drinking-cup attached to it, and '
delicately drank the costly beverage. He
was about to return the flask to his pocket,
when Limber Jim suddenly reached out his
long arm, and took it from him.

“Thank you, stranger,” said that ungain-
ly individual, as he deposited a huge quid
of tobacco upon the deck of the hulk. “TI
don’t care if I do take a little.”

 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  

‘So saying, he’ ied the flask to his
_- mouth, without condescending to notice the
glass, and let the choice liquor gurgle down
his capacious throat.

- Timpson Potherby, Esq., was so over-
come by this impudent appropriation and
profanation of his property, that though he
‘opened his eyes wide in astonishment, he
was unable to speak.

Not so Tim Tupper. Tim was even
more amazed than his master, but his indig-
nation found vent in words.

“ Gracious:’eayvinks !” exclaimed the gen-
tleman’s serying-man, rolling up his eyes in
holy horror. “ Vat is a-goink for to’appen
next! The willin is a-drinkink, with his
dirty mouth,./out of Mr. Potherby’s own
brandy-flask! Give that ’ere, you feller, or
Tl break your ’ead.”

So saying, the guardian of Mr. Pother-
by’s wardrobe rushed at Limber Jim, but
the latter suddenly stretched out his great
foot, and Tim Tupper fell sprawling on the
dirty deck.

“Seems to me I heard sw thin’ drap,”
said Limber Jim, as he corked the flask.
“That's a tolabul good liquor of yourn,
stranger,’ he continued, handing the bottle
'_to Mr. Potherby. “What mought it be
called ?”

“ Tt is brandy,” muttered the Englishman,
looking sullenly at his servant, who had
picked himself up, and was rubbing his nose
and dusting his coat.

“Brandy? Well,-it’s purty good stuff to
» taste of, but somehow it don’t go to the
tips of a man’s toes and the ends of his
finger-nails, like the liquor we have in these
parts. It’s kinder warmin’ to the stummick,
Til allow, but, ef ye want suthin’ to drink
that'll really do ye good, and keep out the
_ ager, I advise ye to take to good old Mo-
/ mongahela whisky, and stick to it. Yell
_ hev to stick to it, when ye git started, fur
thar’ ain’t any let up to ¢hat liquor, I ken
_ tell ye.”

~. “Thank you, sir,” said the Englishman,
- who perceived the policy of keeping on
- good terms with this man. “As you seem
not to care for my brandy, you may call
for what you please at the bar, and I will
_ pay for it.”

_ “Tg that yer style, stranger ” said Lim-
ber Jim. “If it is, ye’re a trump, and ye
__ ken bet yer bottom dollar on this coon. I
don’t. care if I do take a ay pe :

‘ ‘ ee he Willing Captive. f -

 

same, and charge it to Mr. Bothersome
here.”

“ Potherby, you willin!” exclaimed Tim
Tupper. “My master’s name is Potherby.”

“So ye’ve got a master, hey ye, my
chicken?” said Limber Jim, looking con-
temptuously at the natty cockney. “Ye
look as ef ye ought to hey one. S’pose ye
git yer vittles for yer clothes, don’t ye ?”

“Never mind my servant, sir,” said
Potherby. “He means no harm.”

“Folks of his style don’t trouble me,
Mr. Motherly, ef that’s yer name,” said the
long man, as he raised his glass, and drop-
ped the contents down his throat, as you
would swallow a rawegg. “It seems a
good deal like throwin’ water down a knot-
hole,” he continued, “to pour liquor into

e; but I was raised on it, and can’t git
over first likin’s. There comes Cap’n Han-
son, stranger, and Ill be dogoned ef he
hain’t brought Bill Wilson and old Reub
with him! Tell ye, stranger, we'll be a
hull team, and your man thar’ ken pass fur
the dog under the wagon.”

“ Here we are, Mr. Potherby,” said Han-
son, as he stepped on board. “I have
found the very men I wanted. Here is Bill
Wilson, who is as active as a panther, and
as strong as a he-bear; and here is old
Reub, who can preach a sermon or cook a
*possum better than any nigger out of Ken-
tucky. Bill, this is the gentleman I told
you of, whom we are to help search for his
daughter.”

“All right,” said Bill Wilson, a stout,
wiry young fellow, as he bowed to Mr.
Potherby. “I’m ready for any thing that
suits Mr, Hanson, especially if there is ex-
citement in it.”

“ De blessin’ ob de Lord be upon dis
house!” said a very dark African, who
stalked slowly up to the party, with a stick
in his right hand, and a square basket hang-
ing upon his left arm.

“ Why, Reub, you old rascal !” exclaimed
Harry, “what are you doing with your
basket? You can’t take that with you.
Better leave it with the barkeeper here.
Ben, give old Reub something to drink.”

The very dark African did not differ ma-

terially from the generality of very dark
Africans, except that he looked excessively

 

solemn and excessively knowing, and was |

continually moving his head from side to

side, as if addressing an imaginary audience.
“ Benjamin,” said old. Reub, as he de- a ;

posited the basket oh “ , counter,

 

 

 

 
 

é as Captain Aleck Spotters.

:
3
eal '

“ dat ax basket I leab wid you, as a
charge to keep I hab. Dat dar basket
blongs to my old woman, and if Lize know-

_ ed dat dat ar’ basket had been contambu-

lated by bein’ stuck behind dat bar, de good
Lord only knows how she’d make dis nig-
ger’s wool fly! Take car’ ob dat basket,
Benjamin, like de apple in your eye, for if
dat basket ain’t safe when I call you to
count for it, yowll git a judgment on your
head, and old Lize in your hair. Now,
gen’lemen,” continued the old darkey, as he
filled his glass to the brim, and took off
his hat, “1 will gib you a toast, a toast what
I made myseff, widout help from nobody.”

Solemnly, slowly, and with full allow-
ance of pause and emphasis, old Reub re-
peated the following “ pome”:

“De hopes dat was, de hopes dat is,
De hopes forebbermore.

Oh may we meet dis blessed band,
On Canaan’s happy shore.”

“We are allready now,” said Harry Han-
son, “and the sooner the John , Dobbin
comes, the better.”

 

CHAPTER VI.

Up the River—The Scripture according to
Old Reub.

Just as the first red streaks of dawn. be-
gan to show above the low lands of Ken-
tucky, the long-expected steamer John
Dobbin came in sight, landed at the wharf
ee and our party filed on board of her,
the sagacious Reub bringing up the rear.
Mr. Potherby’s luggage was placed on the
boat, and Harry Hanson carried his yalise
up into the cabin.

The Dobbin was by no means so splen-
did a craft as the Forest City. In fact she
was a small and ill-conditioned boat, of the
hind-wheel persuasion, and was much bet-
ter able to run with the current than against
it. Her cabin was narrow, dark, and un-
ventilated, and there was a general appear-
ance of penuriousness and discomfort about
her. Mr. Potherby was soon disgusted with

the lack of accommodation, but, as he could

not help himself, he eased his mind by
grumbling and by scolding Tim.

The captain of the Dobbin, also, was by
no means so urbane and liberal a gentleman
On the contra-
ry; he was a lean, hard- featured, hard- work-
ing man, who looked well to the main

3 IE at mere failed to extract as el

_ Jim.

oe yourn to de blac

    
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
    
 
  
 
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
     
      

side” of him, by telling him of-a lot of mo-
lasses in store at Louisville, with which he
could eke out his trip to Cincinnati. Cap-
tain Sykes was duly grateful for this infor-

mation, and requited it by charging our pas-
sengers not much over a fair price to Sevier’s
wood-yard, and by promising to ee
boat at that place, long enough to allow SORE ;
to learn whether Annie Potherby was to He
found near there.

“T want to take on some wood, any:
how,” said he; “so I reckon I won't lose
by it.” ashe
Having settled this business, Harry sought
Mr. Potherby, and proceeded to put the
Briton’s pistol in order. It had been loaded —
in the most bungling manner, and nota bar- -
rel could have been induced to “go off”
Mr. Potherby was duly impressed with the ~
perilous naturé of the enterprise, and pro- ©
ceeded to fortify himself for the emergency,
by tasting his brandy, and reading an ac-
count (not the French version) of the battle |
of Waterloo. 4H

Tim Tupper, having received the scolding
of his master with all sap Best betook |

 

eater Jim, and the ~~

+

he found Old Reub,
bottle of “ Monongahela,” belonging to the
latter, cosily seated on a box. The cock- ©
ney’s curiosity concerning the African over-»
came his fear of lengthy Mr. Streeter, and he
approached them. . 1.
“Are you a slave, Mister Black Man?” on
he ventured to ask, after gazing for a few
minutes at the solemn visage of “Teub. ; ae
“ A slave! Ob course I is, young man. Do-
you s’pose I’s gwine to take car’ ob myself ©
and Lize and de chillun, all fur nuffin? — is
ain’t no sech big fool as dat, I b’longs to
Mas’r Bill Wilson, and he might be’ aa
ob ownin’ me, too, but he ain't.
my fault dat Mas’r Bill moved. ober in

 

 

he goes, and I’ve stuck to him.” cae
“Like a leech,” iene

Bette

  

you know ‘bout it?
 
 

- some stiffenin’ put into’ em, or dey’ i tangle
up some day, and nebber git untied.”
“Never mind my legs, Reub. ‘They are
"9 straighter than your stories, by a durned
< ‘sight. My
“ Go ’way, now, you Limber Jim! You’s
‘de mostest ignorantest man I ebber see’d,
 wuss’n de beasts dat perish. When I plains
ed to you about Paul and his pardner, Silas,
how dey went down to de isle ob Patsey
- togedder, to persecute de Word, you wanted
to know whedder dey went in a stern-wheel
boat; jest as if a stern-wheel boat could lib
in dem seas! And when I tole you ’bout
Noey and de ark, and how it didn’t rain any,
*ceptin’ jest enough to keep de craps grow-
in’, ontil Noey had driv de last nail, you
axed me if Noey got his nails from Pitts-
burg; jest as if dey couldn’t make dere own
nails. Yer see yer is persumptuously igno-
-rant—yer is.”
“Ye’re too much fur me, Reub, when ye
- ¢ome the Scripter over me,” said Limber
_ Jim, as he turned away.
; “Vota hugly man!” said the cockney.
TJ don’t see ’ow hanybody can live in this
 %orrid country. Hit looks like the last
part of the /earth that dried up, /after the
' deluge.”
“De deluge !” exclaimed Old Reub, with
a contemptuous sneer. “ What do you know
"bout de deluge, young man? I tell you,
dere nebber warn’t no deluge in ds country,
nebber a bit ob deluge—no sah !”
“Vot do you mean?” asked Tim, as he
- opened his eyes in wonder.
“Don’t you s’arch de Scripter, young
man? Hain’t you read none of de old histo-
ries? But, I s’pose you poor, ignorant fur-
_ reners don’t hab de ’vant’ges we gits here.
De Scripter tells us dat de Lord swore in
~ his wraff—in his wraff, mind you—he swore
in his wraff, dat he’d drown out all de peo-
‘a ple. ob de erf. All de people, mind you. But
*; dar. warn’t no people libbin’ here, den; dar
warn’t nobody to drown out. De Lord ain’t
-ewine to do nuffin what Si ain't no use in

Ah

 

 
   
  
 
  
   
 
 

a wettin’, You don’t know nuffin ’bout de
— You don’t know nuffin ’bout de

a - “Who swims de fishes ob de sea,

__ Who flies de birds ob a’r,
~ Who holds de big world in ‘his hand,
3 And totes it ee =

  

3, that was meant for a smile of tri-

The Witting Captive.

gta, en rn

  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
    
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
 

fort his box, satisfied that he had hetoitiohe .

ed his audience, if he had not convinced it.

The feeble comprehension of Tim Tupper
was not capable of rising to the hight of
such a great argument, and he did not at-
tempt to answer it.

“Vot’s the hodds, so long as you're ’ap-
py ?” he ventured to remark, feeling that he
‘ought to say something.

“ Happy !” exclaimed Reub, turning upon
him with an expression in which reproof
and contempt were darkly mingled. “ What
do you know ’bout what’s happy ? I tell you,
young furrener, dar ain’t nobody happy,
*ceptin’ de Great Supremer hisseff, and he is
happy, widout de adoration ob men or an-
gels or niggers, forebber and ebbermore. I
jest wonder, now, if dat mean old Limber
Jim hab done carried off de whisky-bottle.”

While Tim Tupper was being taught the
gospel according to Reub, an apology for
breakfast—or, rather, a pretense, for no one
took the trouble to apologize for it—was be-
ing served up in the cabin. The muddy
coffee, tough beefsteak, greasy potatoes and
soggy bread, were soon disposed of, and the
partakers of the repast rose from their seats
feeling very uncomfortable, especially Mr.
Potherby, who vowed that his digestive or-
gans could never recover from that infliction.

After breakfast, Harry Hanson entered
the cabin, and announced that the boat had
reached Sevier’s wood-yard.

°

CHAPTER. VTE.

A Tramp in the Forest—Scriptural Conso-~
lation—A Snake Story.

Mr. Pornersy was glad to leave the
dingy, dismal and uncomfortable cabin of
the Dobbin, although he had a yague fear
of the dangers and trials that lay before
him.

Not so Tim Tupper. Tim had a mortal
fear—or, perhaps, an immortal one, for it
never died—of snakes, and nothing could
induce him to believe that every pleasant
green field, and every umbrageous patch of
forest, in all the broad American land, was _
not tenanted by serpents and venomous rep-
tiles of the most poisonous character. Con-

sequently, he was by no means pleased at r

leaving the dirty Dobbin, where there were
no creeping things but bedbugs. —
BS mae Weer the whole party, poor

ae

 
 

 

  
  
 
 

 

    
 

Tag Ss tee

md t
Tim Tupper keeping as close as possible to
Harry Hanson. They mounted the bank,
and looked carefully around them, but no-
thing could they see of Annie Potherby.
Not a scrap of muslin, or morsel of ribbon,
was visible in any direction.

Hanson made inquiries of the owner of
the woodpile, a dirty, hatless man, in his
shirt-sleeves, who was sitting on a stump
and smoking a corn-cob pipe, while the
deck-hands of the Dobbin were carrying in
the wood ; but the inquiries were fruitless.

“Thain’t seen nothin’ of no young lady,”
said he, “nor no gal of no kind. Thar ain’t
never nobody comes here, ’ceptin’ the steam-
boats what lands fur wood, though thar’
ain’t no reason why they shouldn’t, fur it’s

; as likely a place as thar’ is on the river. I

laid out a town here, some four or five year
ago, but it seems like nobody ever comes to
buy the lots, though the engineer called it
Billy View, and though it cost me a heap
of money to git the plans printed.”

“Is there any house near here?” asked
Harry.
“Not nearer’n five or six miles back,
' p’raps seven—I don’t know adzackly. I’ve
; got a little log hut on the edge of the tim-
} ber, whar’ I hang out when I’m around here,
|. but it ain’t what mought be called a house,
- I reckon.”
; “How far is it to Tipton ?”
| “Tipton, stranger, is a good eight mile
from here, I reckon, or nine, p'raps ten—I
: don’t know adzackly. Ef ye’re thinkin’ of
q goin’ thar’, stranger, ye’d better not light on
} that town to-morrer—leastways, not onless
| ye do yer yellin’ fur Harry Clay—-’cause

thar’s goin’ to be a ’lection.”
; ““ There is no President to be voted for
now, sir,” said Harry.

“That don’t make no difference. The
folks out to Tipton has thar own idees, and
they does things up ’cordin’ to thar own
notions of what’s free and independent, and
it ain’t safe to cross ’em.”

_“Is there a road leading back into the
country ?”

“Wal, thar’s a sort of track along the
ridge, that mought be called a road. Ef
ye’re lookin’ fur land, stranger, I ken sell ye
a few good lots about here.”

As Harry was not looking for land, he
rejoined his companions, and called a coun-
cil of. war, at which he explained to them,

and especially to Mr. Potherby, that the
_ inissing Annie had probably gone, or had
_ been. taken, into the interior, and that it

)

    

 

 

The Owner of the Woodpile

‘where ‘n the faces of the travelers, swe

  

  
 
 

 
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
     
   

Ae Be
would be necessary to go as faras Tipton” e
at least, in order to search for her, x3
concluded by saying that they ought to
start as soon as possible, as the road, if
there was any, would probably be found
very difficult, and as the nearest house was
several miles distant. oe
It was arranged that the baggage should.
be sent on to Louisville by the Dobbin; .
and Harry, with considerable effort, suc- —
ceeded in procuring from that craft a small —
supply of provisions, such as they were. —
Tim Tupper begged hard to be permitted
to accompany the luggage, but Potherby,
who was by no means in a pleasant humor,
was inexorable. wee
“Pll be wictimized,” sobbed the unfortu-
nate cockney. “I’m sure to be wictim- » —
ized!» I’ve allus ’ad an ’orror of serpents
hever since I was a hinfant. Voit’ll they —
say at ’ome, ven they ’ear as ’owas Tm _
burrid in a furrin land, along o’ bein’ bit up —
by snakes !” : ve
“Young man,” said old Reub, in his.
severest tone, “jest you git de old sarpent ti
ob ebil out ob your heart, and you won't
hab no fear ob ’arthly sarpents into your
head.” “f
All things being ready, the expedition-—
ists were assembled, and were found tobe
armed and provisioned as follows: 7
Limber Jim, one rifle and one bowie —
knife. st
Bill Wilson, ditto. ae
Henry Clay Hanson, two pistols, revoly-
ers, and one bowie knife. os
Timpson Potherby, Esq., one small re-—
volver, and a touch of the gout. ;
Tim Tupper, one bag of promiscuous | _
provisions, one thick stick, and a big scare,
Uncle Reub, one stout cane, andahead:
full of wisdom. ,
The John Dobbin, having taken on as- —
much. wood as wanted, backed out from,
the landing, and slowly steamed up the
river, while our party struck out into the
forest. Limber Jim walked first, and after —
him marched Harry Hanson and Potherby,
who were followed by old Reub and Tim
Tupper, and Bill Wilson brought up the

rear. ee i
forest,

Very beautiful was the grand old
as the rays of the July sun were sif
down through the foliage of the tall trees,
making strange shapes of light and shade
among the massive trunks and
vines. Gay blossoms were flaunting

  

     

¥

 
  

y

oes a pirds made the air ring with their

‘woodpeckers and gay parrokeets, as the
woodsmen called them, flashed every now
and then across their way. But all this
“beauty was lost upon the eyes and ears
of Mr. Potherby and his man. The former
was troubled concerning his daughter, and
could not fully believe Hanson’s confident
assurances, that she would be found and
restored to him in safety. Besides, he felt
that he was treading on dangerous ground,
_ and was sure that the situation, if not actu-
~ ally perilous, was decidedly uncomfortable.
' As for Tim Tupper, his eyes and ears were
‘* ‘open to all that he saw and heard, and tu a
» great deal that he did not see and hear.
The beauty about him, he thought, was
only a snare and. a delusion, to allure the
unwary on to certain destruction. If a big
buzzard was startled from its roost in some
_ ‘giant sycamore or cypress, he trembled
with terror, expecting nothing less than a
_ bear or a panther to pounce upon him. If
a bright blossom lifted its head proudly
a ‘above the: leaves and grass, his excited
‘imagination saw the gleaming eyes and
open mouth of some hideous reptile. He
kept close by the side of old Reub, grasp-
. ing his stout stick, and at last ventured to
ask the sapient darkey whether there were
any wild beasts in that region.

“ Beasts!’ exclaimed Reub, solemnly
shaking his head, “TI tell you, young fur-
rener, dar’s a plentiful ’bundance ob ’em,
and beastesses, too. You jest ask dat
\Limber Jim. He ken tell you.”

'“ Beasts !” said Jim Streeter. “ No, thar’
-ain’t none to speak of, now-a-days, ’ceptin’
-a few painters and sich, and they never
_ show themselves, onless at night-time. The
_. only ryptyles ye’ll be apt to see on this
~ tramp will be water moccasins, and land
sf terrapins, and alligator gars, and p’raps some
_ rattlesnakes,”

. “Snakes and alligators!” exclaimed Tim.
“Gracious ’evinks! Mr. Reub, -I’m fright-
ened of my life at snakes. I wish I was
ome. I wish I'd never comed ’ere, or
2 Mr. Potherby ‘ud let me go ’ome.”

-| “Young man,” said Reub, with a look
of. reproof, “would you put yer foot to de
plow, and turn yer back? Do you know

<

  
    
  
  
   

 

yee eer a The Witty Ciptivs )

 
    
   
  
    
    
   
  
 
    
  
    
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
 

_» merry ‘melody, and the bright-plumaged

 
 
 
  

    
  

‘and she was turned into a -piller full ob

salt—yes sah, ob raal Kanawha s@lt. But
dat’s jest de way wid women-folks ; dey’re
allers doin’ what you tell ’em not to, and
de Lord mought hab knowed dat she’d git
into trouble. I jest wish my old Lize had
been dar ‘long wid Lot.”

“Do your snakes bite bad, Mr. Reub ?”

“ Bite!” Dar’s some ob ’em dat won't
let you off wid bitin’; dey’il jest swaller
you up. It’s ’stonishin’ what a big swaller
snakes hab got, but dey didn’t use to hab,
till Moses was raised up to de children ob
Israel. You see, de ’Gyptian witches flung
down dere rods afore Aaron, and dey
turned into sarpents, but dey wasn’t p’ison
sarpents. And den Aaron, he flung down
his rod, and dat turned into a sarpent, too;
and de Lord opened de mouf ob Aaron’s
sarpent, till it swallered up all de odder
sarpents, and ebber sence dat time snakes °
has had a mighty big swaller.”

“JT think Td as soon meet a lion asa
snake,” said Tim.

“Zions! what's lions? Dey can’t do
nuffin ef you hab faith. Look at de Daniel
De king wanted to put Daniel into de
lion’s den, but Daniel was afeard, and he
asked his master. ‘Don’t you be scar’d ob
dem lions, Daniel, said de Lord; ‘jest hab
plenty ob faith, and lions is nuffin’ So
Daniel went into de den, and when any
lion come around and opened his mouf, dar
was an angel standin’ dar to hit him on de
nose, and make him behave hisselfi Be
like Daniel, young man, and hab faith.
You nebber see me ’fraid ob nuffin. But I
*spect likely,’ continued the old man, ina
meditative tone, “dat Daniel would hab
kinder backed down to a rattlesnake.”

“ Speakin’ of rattlesnakes,” said Limber
Jim, “reminds me of one I saw. I was
goin’ out, last winter, to still-hunt fur deer,
when I see a rattlesnake coiled up by a
tree.”

“ What was the snake doing out in the
winter time? asked Harry.

“Did I say winter ?
must hey been so. This chap was about
seyen feet long, and as big around as yer
leg, and I counted eighteen rattles onto
him as he lay thar’. I thort 'd hey some

,fun with that snake; so I stirred him up, —

and got behind a tree. He jumped for
me, but hit the tree, and then I Anegee to 4

 

 

Wal, if I did, it |

  
 

 

Bensley’s. 19

  

was jest\the maddest snake I ever see. He
kep’ Juppin’, and rattlin’ like fury, and git-
tin’ madder and: madder all the time, till I
noticed that his rattlin’ kep growin’ weaker
and weaker, and at last he give out, and
tried to sneak off, when I shot him, and
found that he’d struck every rattle off his
tail. ‘When I went home, the boys would
hardly believe the story, ’cause I hadn’t no
rattles to show fur it.”

“Some people are very incredulous,”
said Harry. “Jim, are you sure that you
are in the right path ?”

“Wal, I declar’, Cap’n Harry,” answered
the lengthy Jim, “I b’lieve that needs look-
in’ arter.”

CHAPTER VII.
Out of the Woods—Bensley’s.

Tue path in which our party had been
traveling was at the best but a blind one,
and as they progressed it became so over-
hung by trees and overgrown with vines,
that hardly any track was discernible.
Limber Jim, in the excitement of telling
his snake stories, had strayed from the
track, and had lost his way. He pressed
on, however, until the party found them-
selves by the side of a cypress swamp.

Mr. Potherby shuddered and turned pale
as he looked at thé black, silent and somber
water, and the dark forms of the gigantic
trees that grew up out of it. Tim Tupper
gave one terrified glance, and shrunk back
affrighted as he saw the’brilliant forms and
harmless crest-headed water-snakes gliding
about on the dark surface.

“Gracious heavens!” exclaimed Mr.
Potherby, “ we are surrounded by serpents.”

“There is nothing that need alarm you,
sir,’ said Harry. “Jim, strike out to the
right.”

Limber Jim: did strike out to the right,
but shortly struck into a cane-brake, which
appeared to Mr. Potherby to be a very seri-
ous obstacle. But the long legs of Limber
Jim, and the stout limbs of Bill Wilson
gradually, though slowly, forced a passage
through it, and, when our party emerged
from the dense mass of reeds, they came
upon a road that was broad and plain
enough for them to walk on comfortably.

It was now high noon, and ‘after, for
their progress had been quite slow thus far,
and all the party felt the need of something
to eat. Hanson selected a pleasant spot, on

rising ground, under some spreading oaks,
and Tim Tupper was directec) to open ‘his
bag, which he did gladly. "Tite"provisions,
that had been procured from he Dobbin,
were not such as would havé, tempted a
fastidious appetite; and, in fact, none but
hungry men could have eaten them. But
our travelers were hungry, and even Mr,
Potherby devoured the tough beef and hard
bread with a relish.

“ Really,” said the Briton, as he reclined
on the soft grass, in the pleasant shade, with
the mighty forest all around him, “this is
quite an experience, and I almost think that
I might enjoy it, if I was clear of anxiety,
and if we had something good to eat.”

In a few moments our friends were again
on their way. The grass-grown road was
easy and pleasant, and was still shaded, by
tall trees, from the blazing July sun ; so the
travelers jogged along quite comfortably,
and even the two Englishmen began to open
their eyes to the beauty of the scenery.
Henry Hanson endeavored to entertain Mr.
Potherby, by pointing out and describing
the various -objects of interest that they
passed, and by’ enlarging upon the wealth
and beauty of the northern and central por-
tions of the State.

Old Reub, who brought up the rear with
Tim Tupper, enlightened the “youug fur-
rener” npon a variety of subjects, earthly
and unearthly, and kept him in such a con-
dition of excited wonder, that-he could be
compared to nothing but a human exclama-
tion point. Bill Wilson had joined Limber
Jim at the front, and the two found plenty
of amusement in each other and in their
rifles. Every now and then one of them
would bring down a gray squirrel, so that
when they were “out of the woods,” they
had more than a dozen of the delicate
animals.

When the party emerged from the forest,
they found themselves in a clearing, where
there were real rail fences, and a field of
luxuriant corn, Turning from the forest-
tract into a country road, they saw, a short
distance ahead, a small log-house, with a
few outbuildings attached.

“That's Bensley’s!” exclaimed Limber
Jim. “I thort ’'d be comin’ to some place
I knowed afore long. Didn’t that wood-pile
chap tell ye, Cap’n Hanson, that the nighest
house wasn’t but five. or six mile out ?”

“ Yes.”

“Ef we hain’t tramped more’n ten mile.
I’m a sinner’ and now it’s gettin’ late.

 
  
   
   
  
   
 
  
   
    
   
   
 
   
    
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
    
 

ag ‘Wal, n never mind, we ken rest here to-night,

_and ef ye don’t hev a good supper, ‘Mr.

Botherme, of stew’d squirr’l and corn bread,

it'll be ‘cause old Reub has forgot his cookin’

_ eddication.”

/ As. they arrived i in front of the house,
"they were greeted with a howling salute
 Sikom two great, )
rushed out at them, while several. lesser
_curs barked vociferously. Directly the door
opened, and a tall, sallow woman, with dark,
straggling hair, and an economical, scanti-
_ness of dress-skirt, made her appearance,
with some tow-headed children clinging to
her knees, and a dirty-faced girl peeping
out under her arm. She threw a stick of
wood at the+ dogs, and berated them
‘soundly.

“You, Bose, git out, now! Nero, hold
yer jaw! Confound them pups, they won’t
never Varn nothin’, no how. Walk in,
‘strangers; I’m mortal glad to see ye.”
cies “How do ye git along, Mrs.. Bensley ?”
asked Limber Jim, as he stepped up.
‘“ Whar's your old man ?”

, What, is that you, Jim, Streeter? I
_ thort ye’d been dead long ago, and I ’spect
-ye’re only walkin’ around to save the buryin’.

| Walk in, all of ye. My old man has gone

up to Tipton to whip Jim Myers, but he'll
be back as soon as that job is done.”

Our friends accordingly entered the house,
: and found it to contain one room, which
served as kitchen, sitting-room, and sleep-
_ ing apartment. There were two beds, and
_ some dilapidated furniture, much the worse
' for wear.

Supper being needed more than any thing
else, Harry Hanson succeeded in persuading

_ Mrs. Bensley, by the use of considerable
flattery, and a small gold-piece, to allow

Reub to prepare their meal. Bill Wilson

- and Limber Jim quickly cleaned the squir-

‘rels, and the “science” darkey was in his
element. Not being satisfied with the pu-
_. ‘ity of Mrs. Bensley’s dishes, he put them

_ through “a course of sprouts,” with hot

water and soap, and brought them out as

_ shining as his own face.

x tae Dem dishes dar,’ said he, unheeding

_ the sneers and depreciatory remarks of Mrs.

_. knows. darselyes, and if it wasn’t summer-
me, Td be afeard dey would cotch cold. A

   
  
 
 
 

 

The “Wang Captive. 5

gaunt, yellow dogs, that’

sensley, “are so bright, dat dey hardly ©

said ares as ne boreies: his rifle ae See

 

the Reve upon 1 the pine table, around which
the party sat as well as they could, while he
stood up, with brilliant face and an expres-
sion that was intended for a smile.

“Now, gen’’men,” said he, “as thar’
*pears to be nobody to ax de bressin’, I'll
jest gib you a little toast, which was made
for me, by Mas’r Sam Hall, down in Cairo:

‘De Lord he send you what to eat,
I cook it in a pan;
Den bress de Lord for what you git,
And eat it if you can.’”’

The old negro repeated this with closed
eyes and a very reyerent expression of
countenance. To him it was as solemn and
efficacious a blessing as any elegant “ grace”
that could be said by a Doctor of Divinity,
before a board of Bishops, and Reub felt
he had done his duty.

CHAPTER (1X.
Scanty Accommodations—A Ghost.

Mr. Pornersy’s anxiety increased as he
approached the end of his cigar, and he
earnestly inquired of Hanson what he pro-
posed to do, and what route he intended to
take. Harry replied, that they would not
probably find any clue before they reached
Tipton; but, in accordance with the sug-
gestion of the Briton, he called out Mrs.
Bensley and questioned her.

“Yes, indeed,’ answered that pattern
housekeeper. “T reckon I’ve seen jest the
gal ye’re lookin’ for. It was ’arly this
mornin’, and she was ridin’ in an open
wagon, along with a feller in a high-topped
hat. She was one of the purtiest lookin’s
gals I ever see’d, and she wore a green silk
gown, and a red bonnet with white flowers
and long, yaller ribbons.”

“You are mistaken, my dear woman,
greatly mistaken,” said Mr. Potherby, “my
daughter would never dress in such an out-
landish fashion.”

“T ain’t nobody’s woman, stranger, and
I reckou your darter, or any man’s darter,
might be proud of such fixin’s. Here comes
my old man; yon kin jest ask him about
it. ”

Mrs. Bensley’s “old man”—a tall and

-big-boned backwoodsman, with a rifle on

his shoulder—approached, and greeted the

strangers cordially, recognizing an oe ace

quaintance in Limber Jim. I
“ Sorry I wasn’t here when ye fust come,” -

- + 4. . “) r ; re ey ie

 

 

    
 

 

 

|
|
|

Potherby Bothered. 21

side of the house, “ fur I mought hey giv ye
suthin’ to drink. But I was up to Tipton
lookin’ for Jim Myers, who jilted our Mag.
I’ve been layin’ for him now, goin’ on two
months, to give hima lickin’, but the coward-
ly skunk never dar’s to show himself. But
Tll ketch him some day and flax him out.”

Mr. Bensley was asked whether he had
seen any young lady answering to the de-
scription of Annie Potherby; but he had
seen no stranger, except the “ gal with the
green silk gown,” whom his wife had de-
scribed. f

“ Are you thinkim of goin’ to Tipton to-
morrer?” he asked.

“We are,’ answered Harry, “as our
business calls us there.”

“Tve only got to say, then, that you'd
better be purty keerful how you carry yer-
selves thar’, for it’s ‘lection day. You'll
hev to hurrah for somebody, and I advise
you to yell fur Clay and Frelinghuysen,
*cause they don’t allow any other kind of
yellin’ at Tipton.”

As the night wore on, Mr. Potherby felt
the need of rest, and asked Harry where
they would be expected to sleep.

“That's all right, stranger,” said Bensley,
who was then sitting on ‘the grass and
smoking a corn-cob pipe. “As you seem,
sir, to be a man who ain’t used to sleepin’
out of your bed, you kin turn in on mine,
and the old woman and the gals ken sleep
on tother one. The rest of us, I reckon,
ken lie around well enough.”

“But how can I go to bed,” asked the
puzzled Potherby, “ with the—a—ladies in
the room ?”

“Thar ain’t no ladies about here,
stranger ; and as fur the women-folks, you
needn’t be skeered of them, fur they won't
hurt you.”

It was arranged, therefore, that Mr. Pother-
by should occupy Bensley’s bed, and that
the rest should be laid out, as well as they
could be, on the floor. As for Tim Tupper
and uncle Reub, they were to sleep in a
shed which served the purpose of a barn.

In due time the female portion of the
Bensley family, with the dirty-faced cherubs,
had stowed themselves away and drawn the
curtains of their “ couch” around them, and
Bensley signified to the males that they
might retire. Harry Hanson and the others

 

 

soon picked out the soft places of the floor,
rolled themselves in rugs and quilts, and
lay down ; but poor Potherby was at a loss
what to do. After looking carefully around,

he commenced to disrobe himself. But un-
dressing, with Timpson Potherby, was a

business that required time, and he was not:

more than half ready for bed when he heard
a “snickering” on the other side of the
room, behind the curtain, followed by a girl’s
voice.

“ You, Jane’ Maria! Jest you git over on
your own side. Fust thing you know,
you'll be kickin’ the children out of bed.”

“Hush up, Mag!. The gen’leman what’s
ondressin’ will hear you.” :

Timpson Potherby trembled, and got the
strings of his gaiters in a hard knot, in his
haste. There was a brief silence, followed
by more “ snickering.” :

“Thar’, now; I knowed you'd do it!”
exclaimed a sharp voice from behind the
curtain.

Something fell on the floor in a heap,
with a vigorous yell, such as could only
proceed from the lungs of a healthy two-
year-old child, and then a head was thrust
out from the curtain, followed by a pair of
arms that picked up the struggling and
screaming infant. Timpson Potherby waited
to see no more, but, “ accoutered as he was,”
or, as he was not, he popped into bed, and
covered up his head with the sheet. It was
not long before he forgot his troubles and
discomforts, and slept’ as soundly as the
rest.

Uncle Reub had gone to the shed, and
was sleeping soundly before the others lay
down. Tim Tupper, however, like a true
gentleman’s attendant, or, rather, like a
faithful English servant, waited outside the
door of the house, expecting that his master
would put his shoes out to be blacked. Mr.
Potherby had always been accustomed to
put his shoes outside of his door to be
blacked, and his servant had always been
accustomed to take them away and black
them. Tim could conceive of no such ab-
normal condition of things as would prevent
his master from putting his shoes outside
of his door at night, and he only won-
dered why Mr. Potherby waited so long
to put them out. It is true that he had no
blacking, and did not know where he could
procure any; but that was a second thought,
which had not entered his head. His first
duty was to get the shoes, and that single
idea was as.much as his brain could hold
at once. Tim waited in vain, however, for
the door did not open, and no sound came
from within, except some audible and un-
harmonious snores. At last, his patience
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
    
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
      
      
     
      
    
           
       
     
     
     
      
   
   
    
 
  

haying become exhausted, and being unable
vi to keep his eyes open any longer, he turned
_ -wonderingly away, and sought the shed
‘that was to be his resting-place.
The shed was about thirty yards from the
; house, and Tim had to pass by a huge syc-
/)- amore tree, that looked like a giant with a
; + swelled head. The night was very dark—
as dark as the biggest kind of a stack of the
' very blackest cats—and Tim could scarcely
discern the outline of the shed. The syca-

' more was plainly visible, however, and to-
"ward that he bent his course, knowing it to
+. bein a line with the place he sought. A
strong wind had risen, that whistled and
howled around the house and through the
great branches of the tree.

Tim Tupper shuddered and stepped for-
ward as rapidly as he could in the dark-
ness; but, just as he was passing the syc-
amore, a tall figure in white, with a face
_ as pale as its ghost-like raiment, suddenly
‘ started from behind the great trunk, threw
ty up its arms, and glared at Tim, with a
- burst or yell of weird and horrid laughter.

} One glance was enough for the unfor-
tunate serving-man. .With a scream of
a terror, he fell senseless upon the ground.
: The white figure bent over him a moment,
and then NAnjahed in the darkness.
When Tim recovered his senses, such as
_ they were, he rose to his feet and rushed
_ blindly to the shed, where Le fell over old
_, Reub, who was sitting up and rubbing his
pis CFCS:
“Who's dat ?” asked the darkey.
“Tv’s honly me, Mr. Reub.”
ce “ Wha—wha—whar’s dat yellin’ out
rue er?
* “Tt was me, Mr. Reub.”

“Thought I hearn sumfin’ like a screech-
“owl. What's de matter wid you ?”

“Tye seen a ghost, Mr. Reub.”
“Jest hush dat foolishness, you poor, ig-
. norant furrener.”

“But I ave seen a ghost, Mr. Reub. It
jumped out from be’ind the big tree, and
it was fall dressed in vite, and was as ’igh

as an ’ouse. Its heyes vos full of fire, and
_ it grinned at me like a skellington, and
made such an ’orrid noise, that I fell down
SAP: and thought I vos dead.”
No words could describe the supreme,

, the ineffable contempt, that the sagacious
f Reub threw into his voice, as he addressed

   

‘Poor, ignorant, noncomposted, pu-
farterner'} Ps extensivrally

 

The Willing Captive.

the trembling Briton: 43

 

£

*shamed ob any sech white man as you!
De only ghost what you seen, dis bressed
night, is a ghost what come out ob your
own eyes. I tell ye, young man, dar ain’t
no sech thing as ghosts, nor ghostesses,
neider ; and dar hain’t been none, sence de
old witch in de cave raised up de ghost ob
Sammywell, for Saul, afore he got struck
by lightnin’ on his way to Camasous, when
de Lord called him to persecute de Word.
Dar hain’t been no ghosts sence dat time,
cause we’s got de written gospel, and don’t
need no ghosts. You go talk to de poor,
ignorant. white trash, like yourseff, bout
ghosts, but don’t come to dis old nigger wid
no such stories.”

“As sure as the ’eayen’s above us, Mr.
Reub,” persisted Tim, “I did see a ghost !”

“Young man,” said Reub, “Ts afeard
dat you’s been gibben ober to de power ob
de.old sarpent ob ebil. Jest you keep dat
dar foolishness to yourseff, and lie down on
de hay, and go to sleep.”

“Tim Tupper did as his sapient adviser
bade him, but it was a long time before his
nerves could become sufficiently composed
to allow him to slumber.

The rest of the party, and the Bensley
household, passed a quiet night, and all of
them, especially Mr. Potherby, slept very
soundly. The latter gentleman slept so
well that, not being accustomed to early
rising, the sun was high before he opened
his eyes. When he awoke and looked
around, he saw that every one was up, and
that the men had either left the house, or
were lounging about the room. A bright
fire was glowing on the hearth, and Mrs.
Bensley and the girls were engaged in culi-
nary preparations.

Here was a predicament for Timpson

Potherby, Esq.! and his dismay was in-
creased, when he saw that none of the
females paid the least attention to him or
his condition. The bothered Briton was
relieved, however, by Harry Hanson, who
succeeded in inducing Mrs. Bensley and
her elder offspring to leave the room, until
Potherby was partially dressed.

When his unsatisfactory toilet was com-

pleted, the Englishman stepped outside the ~

door, where he found his companions list-
ening to old Reub’s contemptuous account
of “dat fool furrener, what said he pee
seen a ghost.”

Reub’s account was received, of course,

with laughter and incredulity, and en

were rate for Tim T noe: ;

 

 
  

a! Tim had lost so much sleep deat’ the
ed night, that it seemed almost impossible for
ur - him to awake in the morning. When he
rt - was at last aroused, he made his appear-
a8 5 ance with his hair full of hay-seed, and
le with his neat clothes looking woefully
b wrinkled and dusty. He repeated his story,
k as he had told it to Reub, except that he re-
n duced the hight of the ghost to twelve or
1. fifteen feet.

i, Mr. Potherby was indignant at what he
t called such barefaced folly, and was pro-
; ceeding to scold his servant severely, when
b Harry Hanson, who was closely examining

the culprit, put his hand upon the back of
Tim’s coat collar,and pulled off a paper,
5 that had been fastened there with a pin.

| “What is this?’ he exclaimed. “A
note, I believe, and as it is addressed to no
one, I will take the liberty of opening it.
Ah, Mr. Potherby,” he continued, as he
looked at the paper, “here is something that
interests us; here is a clue to the lost one.
Something more substantial than a ghost
has been around here last night.”

f The young man then read as follows :

“Tr the Englishman wishes to find his
daughter, let him leave an envelope, contain-
ing one thousand dollars, at Rossiter’s gro-
cery, in Tipton, and she will be returned to
him, at any place he may name.

“THOSE WHO HAVE HER.”

“ That is a clue, indeed,” said Potherby, as
he examined the mysterious note. “All we
haye to do now, is to place the matter in
the hands of the police, who will leave an

BY envelope at the place named, and arrest the
om rascal who comes to claim it.”-
tb “That would never do,” said Hanson.
‘ “You are far from Bow street, Mr. Pother-
by, and there is no Scotland Yard in Ken-
by tucky. Besides, even if these outlaws
should be foolish enough to step into such
a trap, there are no police who would be
willing to undertake to catch them. No,
oe” sir; we must go to Tipton, and rely only
; on our Own resources.”

PCPs

 

 

 

(OB ALP SD Wek, ks

Timber Jim thinks he sees Something—
f Tipton and its Politics,

 

Ir was settled that the party should pro-
ceed to Tipton, ‘where Hanson and Bill
‘ Wilson, rye seine to haye a knowledge

A Clue to the ow One.

   
  
     
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
    
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
   
    
    
  
   

toa dikcovar y of the vices of Anni
Potherby.

as the oar was oie they might walle ;
that distance in a short time.
Mr. Potherby and Mr. Hanson conveised,
as they walked along, about the note that
had been so strangely conveyed to them, by
means of Tim Tupper. The Englishman *
felt convinced that Annie had been in some’ —
way carried off by Jack Turpie and his _
gang, as Captain Spotters had supposed ; es
and Harry agreed with him that the only
question was, how she should be rescued —
from their hands. Mr. Potherby was con-
vinced that it would be useless to invoke .
the aid of the law, as Turpie was quite a
power in that region, and was supposed to —
manage the ministers of justice pretty much
as he pleased; still he was not more than
half’ inclined to pay the ransom in the
manner mentioned in the note. He de-
cided it best, however, to treat with the
outlaws in some other way. But Harry
was for another course. He suggested that
there was not any name mentioned in the
note, and not eyen any rogue whom they
might hold responsible for the performance _
of the contract. How could Mr. Potherby _
be assured that, when he had paid the
money, his daughter would be restored to —
him? Might not the villains, finding him
ready to comply with their demands, still”
retain possession of the young lady, and
make further encroachments upon his purse?
No; the only course for them to pursue, at
that time, was to trust to their own Co
for discovering where she was conceal-_
ed, and to their own prowess for effecting
her release. ,
What puzzled Mr. Potherby more than —
any thing else, was the fact that the bearer. of
of the mysterious note should have ‘nown
that they were searching for Annie, and
were stopping at Bensley’s, when they —
had met no one on the way, until they
reached the house of the backwoodsman.
Of this, even Hanson was able to give 3 n
reasonable explanation, and could on sup
pose that at ie or whoever. the ab luctor

 

      
 

  

 
     

  

the lost young tatty vy ees

“That circumstance ait pose :
the young man, “that we nuUBE 5s
cautious, and prudent in ) the

 
     
        

 

  
   
   
  
   
  
 
   
   
   
    
  
   
   
     
 
   
  
 
 
    
      
           
         
     
      
        
     
     
     
     
      
     
  

_ and must not make our business known to
any one, if we can help it.”

About this time Limber Jim, who had
been striding on in advance of the rest, with

his rifle on his shoulder, and with his head
bent down as if in deep thought, suddenly
faced about, brought his weapon to the
ground, and called a halt.

““Look-a-here, Mr. Smotherly,” said he,

3 gazing very profoundly at the group, “ what
_. sort of a hand-write was that into that thar’
etter ?”

“Tt is written very well,’ answered the
Englishman, producing the paper ; “very
neatly, indeed.”

“Does it look anythin’ like a woman’s
-hand-write ?”

i Mr. Potherby and Hanson both examined
. the note, and agreed that when they looked
at it closely, they believed it had been writ-
ten by a woman, although the hand was
evidently disguised.

“Jest what I thort!” exclaimed the long
man, in a tone of triumph. “I knowd
thar’ must be a woman mixed up in it
somehow. When there’s devilment about,
you'll allers find a woman in it, jest as sure
as thar’s allers bound to be a nigger in the

_ fence when chicken stedlin’ is goin’ on.
Let me see—Bill Bensley’s wife spoke of a
gal in a green sillk gown, with a red bon-
net, white flowers, and long yaller strings,
and a feller in a high-topped hat. Whar’
did that gal come from, and whar’ was she

~ goin’ to? TIT hain’t fully made up my mind

onto that p’int yit, but it’s sartin that I mean
to keep a look-out fur that gal, and that fel-
ler, too, fur that matter. It ain’t every gal
about this neck of woods that’s got a green
silk gown, nor every feller that wears a high-
topped hat. Come on, folks; I’m goin’ to
Tipton.” ;

_As neither Mr. Potherby nor Harry Han-

~ son could pretend to understand the long

* man’s argument, they did not endeavor to

- answer it, but walked after him in silence.

Old Reub, however, expressed his approval

-in logical and emphatic language.

“Mister Limber Jim,” said he, “TI think

your bead is right. The whisky hab got

-workéd out obit, and hab gib room for de

‘sense to cirkilate around. If de gal hab

_been carried. off, den she’s been took some-

_ whar’; and ef she’s dar yet, den we could

find her ef we know’d whar’ she’d been took

 

 
 

 
 

 
 

‘must hab been Mr. Bothersome’s gal,or some
a gal Ob course it igen re farren se

 

 

The Willing Captive.

; to. If dat letter was writ by a gal, den’ it ©

so it must hab been de odder one ; Masiots,
dar’s two ob ’em. Women is jest like
snakes—wharebber dar’s two. dar’s one} so
de furren gal must be along wid de odder gal,
and all we’s got to do is to find de odder
gal. Darfore, lastly and to conclude, if ‘dis
chile sets his eyes on any green silk gown,
he’s gwine to spot it, shuah.”

Our party soon reached Tipton, a small,
straggling, and by no means pretty village.
The houses of Tipton appeared intended to
illustrate the independence of its inhabitants,
for they were placed just as their owners
seemed to fancy, without any regard to regu-
larity or the location of street lines. They
were generally small, dilapidated, and desti-
tute of fences. The public institutions of
Tipton were a store and a half, a blacksmith’s
shop, a tumble-down school-house, and two
whisky mills, called “ groceries.” The prin-
cipal occupations of the inhabitants of Tip-
ton appeared to be, from observations taken
on that day, drinking whisky, playing mar-
bles, voting, and swearing very hard.. The
American flag floated in front of each of the
“ groceries,” and placards were copiously
posted up, announcing that Peter Rollins
was a candidate for the office of sheriff, to
fill a vacancy.

Hanson stopped in front of the grocery
that displayed the name of Jack Rossiter,
and explained to Mr. Potherby that it would
be necessary, in order to conciliate the
“ natives,” to stop at Rossiter’s, and treat as
many of the Tiptonians as could be induced
to take a “social glass.” The fastidious
taste of the exclusive Englishman recoiled
from this proposition, but, on being remind-
ed that he must sacrifice his feelings if he
wished to discoyer his daughter, he reluct-
antly consented to mingle with the vulgar
crowd, on condition that his “ young friend”
would take the talking on himself.

It was, indeed, a vulgar crowd that they
encountered when they entered Jack Rossi-
ter’s bar-room. If unkempt hair, unshaven
chins, rough and ragged garments, swollen
faces, red eyes, and breath reeking with the
fumes of poor whisky, are indications of vul-
garity, it was avery vulgar crowd. But
Harry Hanson marched boldly in, followed
by all his party except old Reub and Tim
Tupper, Bill Wilson and Limber Jim should-
ering their way through the mass, as cool
and nonchalant as ever, and Mr. Potherby,
although he endeavored to avoid that ap-

pearance, looking excessively disgusted.
“allo !” exclaimed a, burly Tiptonian, _

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

“herescomes a new crowd. Say, ieaen
who do you go for?”

“We are going for something to drink,
just now,” said Harry, as he planted himself
in front of the bar, “and we mean to cast
our ballots right away. Won't os step up
and vote with us ?”

“Of course we will,” said the heavy
man. “Come, fellows.”

The “ fellows” were willing, the glasses
were set out and duly emptied, and Harry
threw down a gold dollar, grandly declining
the change.

“Tll be dodrabbited,” exclaimed Limber
Jim, “if this ain’t the best-lookin’ crowd
I’ve seen since I left Posey county! But
they was all Harry Clay men up thar,
which mought account for fur thar’
looks.”

“We ain’t nothin’ else bere, strangers,”
said several Tiptonians.

“Ts that so, boys? Then step up here,
all of ye, and take suthin’ in honor of old
Harry of the West.”

This piece of diplomacy had the desired
effect, especially as Bill Wilson, when the
glasses had been again drained, proposed
another round, “ to the health of Peter Rol-
lins, the next sheriff.” This was drank
with all the honors, and our travelers
gladly perceived that their stock was at a
premium in’ Tipton.

Hanson then led his companions out of
the bar-room, greatly to the satisfaction of
Mr. Potherby, who had been almost suffo-
cated by the close atmosphere and the
fumes of the whisky.

CHART ERY XT;

Tim Tupper builds Air Castles—He sees
Something.

Waite Hanson and his friends were
endeavoring to conciliate the Tiptonians in
Rossiter’s bar-room, Tim Tupper and uncle
Reub, as we have said, remained outside.
Reub had collected around him a small

knot of street loungers, to whom. he was °

discoursing pent concerning the merits
of the “heavy men” of Kentucky, Clay and
Crittenden.

' Tim had been an attentive. listener to
Limber Jim, when that worthy was struck
by a good idea, on the route to Tipton. He

_ had also’ been powerfully impressed by the
» logical argument of Reub upon ‘he same_

 

     
  
  
   
    
   
    
   
   
 
  
  
  
     
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
    
    
  
  
   
  

deserved. He felt that the fate of their ex
pedition hinged upon that lady in the out
landish attire; that if she could be found,
the place of Annie Potherby’s concealment. ;
might be easily discovered, and the young
lady would be released and restored to her
father. If he, Tim Tupper, might be the’
instrument of effecting such a restoration,
if he could be so fortunate as to make the
wished-for’ discovery, there was no telling -
what amount of pecuniary benefit he might —
not receive. Certainly, his mister could —
do nothing less than settle upon him a pen-—
sion, or. a handsome sum of money, With
which he might retire from service, marry —
his Mary Ann, and settle down in life as ~
the proprietor of a “neat little public.” —
Tim, it will be seen, was like the milk-—
maid in the old spelling-book story, except
that he commenced with the green ‘gown,
and the milkmaid ended with it. as
He was so filled with this one idea, that
he even failed to listen to Reub’s harangue, —
great as was his respect for the sable orator,
He was dreaming pleasant dreams, and
already, in his fancy, was seated in the — "
tap-room of his quiet and cosy “ public,” —
with a pint of foaming ale before him, with
his pipe in his right hand, and with his left
arm encircling the waist of his buxom Mary
Ann—when he happened to turn his eyes”
away from the group of loungers, and sud-_
denly saw, at what was intended for a
corner of the straggling street, a lady in a
green silk dress and red bonnet ! %
A moment only he saw her, and she was
gone, disappearing around the corner of a
house ; but, there was no mistaking that
noticeable green and red.
With Tim, at that instant, to see waa :
act. No sooner had he caught a glimpse
of those gay colors, than he ‘started away
from the group in front of Rossiter’s, and~ 3
darted wildly down the street, toward the —
house around which they had disappeared. —
In his headlong career he ran against a
tar-barrel, which some boys were preparing y
to be set ona pole for a nightly illu |
tion. He knocked it down, and fell over — ee
it, plentifully besmearing his face and US he
with the dark and sticky stuff. He quickly
picked himself up, however, nothing
ed by the unpleasant accident, and
madly on, Toei of the shout

 

   
  
   
   
  
  
 
   

 
   
     
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
   
  
   
   
 
    
  
   
   
   
  
 

- When he’ reached the corner, there was
“no dress of any kind in ‘sight, but he con-
5 abiaed his course, in the direction he sup-
posed the lady might have taken, until he
‘brought up’ suddenly in the midst of a
knot. of men who were gathered around
the place where the election was being
held. A speaker, no less a person than the
ae Tipton candidate for sheriff, was address-
_ ing the throng from a dry-goods box, and
he was compelled to pause, as Tim dashed

_ blindly in among his audience. +
“What's this ?” exclaimed a great, gaunt
and ugly Tiptonian, as he picked up the
small Briton by the collar of his coat, and
shook him soundly. “ What do you mean,
stranger, by rushin’ in on a public meetin’
this a- way ? What in thunder is the mat-
ter with yer face and hands? You look as
if you'd run into a thunder-cloud and

smashed it.”

_|- “ Vhere is she ?” eagerly asked the ex-
cited cockney. “ Vhere did she go?”
“Do you know what you're talkin’
about, young feller? ‘What side are you
‘on? Who do you yell for, Polk and Dal-
las, or Clay and Freling’uysen ?”

Tim Tupper began to comprehend the
situation. He collected his senses for a
grand effort, and made it.

“ Hurrah for Poke and Frelin’uysen,” he
shouted at the top of his voice.

Poor Tim was terrified by the roars of
daughter, mingled with violent imprecations,
that rose from the throng. A dozen hands
were laid upon him, and several stout boots

were lifted to kick him, when the orator

who had been interrupted, again requested

_the attention of his audience.

“Hold on, fellers,” said he. “ Jist let

' melay my eyes on that chap. Tell me

' plainly, young feller, who are you for ?”

“T hain’t for nobody,” feebly answered
the trembling Jim. “I’m a Hinglishman,

and Mr. Potherby’s servant.”

“An Englishman !” exclaimed the speak-

i, can see him. Yes, feller-citizens, he is
- one of those bloody foreigners what the loco-

 
 

make citizens of at ‘lection time, to vote
‘a away our liberties and ruin the’country. I
will tell you, feller-citizens, what this miser-
able stranger is. He is nothing less than a
y, sent here by the loco-focos of Hobtown,
to seduce the good whigs of Tipton from
allegiance to the glorious and time-
¢ mange of any ae That's

 
 

 

 

 

fey The abe. Captive

er. “ Let him stand out there, fellers, where .

- focos bring over here by the cartload, and .

what he is! They couldn’t find any Amer-
ican citizen mean enough to be such a
sneaking traitor; sob they had to get a dirty,
white-livered, black-hearted foreigner. Fel-

ler-citizens, what shall be done with such a -

man? What shall be the fate of the das-
tard spy, who seeks to betray the patriotic
voters of Tipton into the vile embraces of
‘Winterbottom and the loco-focos ?”

“ Kill him!’ “Hang him!” “Ride him
on arail!’ “Cowhide him!” “Kick him
out of town!’ “Duck him!’ “Shave his
head !”

Such were the pleasant sounds that greet-
ed the ears of the terrified Tim, as he knelt
down in the midst of that group of savage
men, and begged, pathetically but incohe-
rently, for his life.

As the supporters of the rail proposition
and of the ducking proposition were about
equally divided, it seemed that a compro-
mise had been effected, and both plans were
to be tried; for a rail was speedily pro-
cured, on which the Briton was mounted
astraddle, with a supporter upon each side.
The rough stick was upborne upon the
shoulders of four stout men, and away gal-

‘loped the noisy and excited crowd, regard-

less of the cries and prayers of the tortured
Tim.

When Hanson and his companions came
out of the bar-room, they found Old Reub
holding forth to his small knot of listeners,
but Tim Tupper was nowhere to be seen.

“ What has become of my man?” asked
Mr. Potherby, as soon as the eloquent dar-
key could be induced to listen.

“Dat dar foolish little furrener, Mr. Smoth-
erby, hab gone to de debbil, sure’s you're
born.. He couldn’t stop to listen to de
words ob wisdom what I was speakin’, what
mought hab brought down dere fruit in due
season ; but, be started off, and went tearin’
down de street, wuss’n dat herd ob hogs
what de Lord put de debbil into, and sent

’em ober de bank into de ribber. Dat dar
young man, in my ’pinion, is noncom-
posted.”

Reub was unable to explain why Tim
Tupper had been “ took’ with a leaving” so

suddenly and strangely, and our friends were .
~ at a loss where to look for him, or what to

do, when they saw the screaming, yelling,
galloping crowd coming up the street from
the direction of the polls.
nent figure was poor Tim, who was borne
aloft above the heads of the rest, grasping

the rail with both his hands, turning around

The most promi-

    

~~
ra

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
     
     
       
     
     
    
     
   
    
       
   
     
 

 

Tipton Hospitality. 27

+

his tar-bedaubed face beseechingly, and yell-
ing piteously for mercy.

Bill Wilson, like a hero of the real knight-
ly pattern, dashed in among the throng,
scattering them as he went, and in an in-
stant pulled down the bruised and dirty
Briton from his uncomfortable position. He
then. drew his bowie-knife, and vowed that
he could “chaw up” any man or set of men
who offered to lay a finger on him again.

Weapons were also drawn by the would-

be lynchers, and the difficulty threatened to
become a serious one, when Harry Hanson
interfered, and endeavored to explain the
matter. In this he was assisted by the al-
lies whose acquaintance he had formed in
Rossiter’s bar-room, and the free and inde-
pendent citizens of Tipton at last consented
to cool down, and thus the matter was set-
tled, to the satisfaction of all except Tim.

 

OHAPTER XII.

Another Mysteriow Note— Potherby looks
ahead.

Tr Turrer’s splendid castles in the air
including the “neat little public,’ with his
Mary Ann for its mistress, had vanished ut-
terly, and nothing was left in their place but
an unpleasfnt reality of tar, dirt and bruises.
It was a-great fall, a woful change, and Tim
felt that he had been cheated out of his
rights by the lady in green, and by the iras-
cible Tiptonians.

He sought the aid of the sagacious and
experienced Reub, as he felt it his duty to
clean his face and hands and garments as
much as possible, before he could venture
into the presence of Mr. Potherby. The
darkey was inclined to treat him with kind-
ness and condescension, although he was a
“poor, ignorant furrener,’ as he had got
into difficulty throngh his implicit belief in
the wisdom of him, Old Reub. He took
Tim to the cabin of a Tipton darkey, and
managed, by a liberal use of soap, water,
and a brush, to make him appear reasona-
bly presentable. The tar, however, stuck
to him closer than a brother. The blotches

 

on his face, like Macbeth’s “ damned _ spot,”
would not “ out,” and it was poor consola-
tion to the victim to be told that they would’
wear off in time.

Harry Hanson, in pursuance of his policy
of making to himself friends of the mammon
of unrighteousness, became acquainted with

Mr. Rollins, the Tipton candidate for sheriff,
to whom he introduced Mr. Potherby. The
young man soon succeeded in so far gaining
the favor of the would-be official, that Rol-
lins invited himself and his friend to dinner
at his house. The invitation was accepted,
and they were sumptuously regaled with
what was known among the Tiptonians as
“ chicken-fixin’s and flour-doin’s,” namely,
fried chicken and wheaten bread, and apple
pie and molasses

When the repast was finished, Hanson
told the Englishman that he must leave him
for the present, in order to make inquiries,
and endeavor to learn something of the
haunts of Jack Turpie and the whereabouts
of Annie. fe requested Mr. Potherby to
remain where he was, and on no account
to leave Mr. Rollins’ house until he should
return.

Mr. Rollins, also, was obliged to leave,
for the purpose of showing himself among the
free and enlightened citizens of Tipton ; and
Potherby, not fancying the society of the
rather indignant females who composed the
household, seated himself upon a sort of
porch in front of the Rollins: residence, to
enjoy his cigar and commune with his own
thoughts.

He thought that that portion ofthe United
States was the roughest and least civilized
country that it had ever been his lot to
travel in—he had never seen Arkansas ;' and
thought, furthermore, that the independent
Tiptonians were a problem that he was un-
able to solve. He had good sense enough
to perceive, as Hanson had told him, that it
was. necessary for him to conform to their
peculiarities as far as possible, if he wished
to succeed in his search.

His chief thoughts, as was natural, were
concerning his daughter and Harry Hanson,
He was obliged to confess that he could
conceive of no way of discovering the
whereabouts of Annie, or of rescuing Ler
after ‘the discovery ; but, it was some conso-
lation to him to believe that she was not ill-
treated, and his confidence in the tact and
prowess of Harry Hanson had risen, until he
really began to entertain a high esteem for
thé young man, although, of course, he could
not think of him asa husband for his daugh-
ter. He almost believed in Hanson’s as-
surances that his daughter would be restored
to him, but could not repress a strong and
natural feeling of anxiety. He endeavored

 

 

to be resigned, however, and to await fur-,

ther developments with patience.

 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 

 

oS $ e ae.
aod ; ee i :

.

 

As, he was thus sitting, in quiet medita-

tion, with half-closed eyes, and with the
- smoke of his fragrant cigar rising languidly

from his lips, he was startled by the noise
of a stone that flew by his head, struck the
side of the house with considerable force,
and fell on the floor of the porch.
“Really !” he exclaimed to himself, “these
people are very barbarous, and their boys
are excessively rude.”
He rose, and looked out into the street,
but-could see no boy, or any other person.

: _ He then cast his eyes around, and noticed

the stone that had been thrown, lying near
his chair. As he did so, he perceived that
there was a paper attached to it, a string
being tied around the stone.

With an ejaculation of surprise, Mr.
Potherby picked up the stone, and de-
tached from it the paper, which he opened

and examined closely. It was a half-sheet of
delicate, gilt-edged note-paper, and the writ-
ing, which was in a fair and flowing female
hand, read as follows :

“As the Englishman fears to leave the
money, as he was told to do, in an envelope,
at Rossiter’s, he may have another chance to

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

alone, or he will not see me.

secure the freedom of his daughter. Let

‘him meet me, at eleven o’clock to-night, at
the large oak, near the cross-roads, beyond
Bassett’s mill, and another opportunity will
‘be offered him, He surely can not be afraid
to treat with a woman. He must come

“ GREEN DRrzEss.”
Mr. Potherby compared this note with
_ the first one he had received, and came to

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       
   
   
    
   
   
      
   
   
   

 

 

  

   

- the conclusion, that both had been written
' by the same person, although the first was in
a disguised hand. It seemed, then, that the
theory advanced by Limber Jim, with regard
_ to the lady in the conspicuous colors, was cor-
rect, and that there was a woman concerned
in the abduction—the very woman who re-
- quested him, Mr. Potherby, to meet her that
night. :
_ Mr. Potherby was excited. He was per-
‘plexed. He resolved to make a vigorous
effort to strike at the heart of the mystery.
He would not, he thought, show this last
letter to Hanson, as the young man might
advise him to do nothing, looking upon it as

is a plot to draw him into still further trouble.

To be sure, it seemed an indclicate, perhaps
an improper thing, for him,'Timpson Poth-
by, Esq., to consent to a nocturnal appoint-
ent, with. an unknown female, especially
th a female who dressed so outlandishly.

#0,"

The Willing Captive.

He would not like it to be known in En-
gland, but the freedom of his child was in
question, and he felt that he must sacrifice
his feelings, perhaps peril his safety, for her
sake,

As Mr. Potherby was impatiently pacing
the porch, Tim Tupper made his appear-
ance, accompanied by uncle Reub, who had
constituted himself the special guardian and
protector of the young servying-man.

Mr. Potherby questioned Tim rather
sharply with regard to his trouble of the

. morning, and listened with interest to the

story of his chase after the green dress and
red hat. He became more firmly con-
vinced that every thing depended upon the
discovery of the lady of the extraordinary
attire. Still, he was puzzled. Did this
green-dressed female know that she was
being sought for? Did she know, that by
signing her note “ Green Dress,” she would
be identified as some one in whom he was
interested? If she did, how did she know
it? If not, why did she use such a signa-
ture? He even forgot to scold Tim for the
untidiness of his appearance.

“Dis young man, Mr. Fatherly,” said
Reub, “ was doin’ what he b’liecbed to be
right, ’cordin’ to his lights. He was fol-
lerin’ his lights, but de lights went out, and
he fell into de hands ob de Scribes and
Pharisees, hypercrites. Dat’s what's de
matter wid him. He was proceedin’ on
sound doctrine, sech as he’d heard me and
Limber Jim discoursin’, and, when he
slipped up, it was de fault ob de flesh and-
not ob de sperrit.”

But Mr. Potherby paid no attention to
the wisdom of uncle Reub. He was think-
ing of the,lady in green, and of the appoint-
ment for that night—an appointment that
he was determined to keep, if possible.

But, how should he keep it, without be-
traying his secret to Hanson or some of his
companions? It was not to be supposed
that they would suffer him to go alone to
the rendezvous. Besides, where was the
rendezvous? Where was Bassett’s mill,
beyond which, near the cross-roads, he was
to find the large oak? Who would direct
him to that spot; and how could he reach
it without being suspected and watched by
some one of the party? He saw only one
course to pursue—to make as cautious in-
quiries as he could concerning the country
around Tipton, and thus endeavor to learn
the whereabouts of Bassett’s mill.

While he was pondering upon the best _

 

 

 
  

Viren lS
  

A

means ‘to accomplish this se hey was joined
by Harry Hanson and Bill Wilson. The

made some important discovery, or has
heard some pleasant news.

“T think, Mr. Potherby,” said he, “ that
I have found a clue to the lost, and I am
sure that we are on the right track. I fell
in with a countryman as I was walking up
the Triggville turnpike, who informed me
he had seen a lady who answered to the
description of Annie, accompanied by a
man and a woman, enter an old building
known as Bassett’s mill.”

“ Bassett’s mill !” exclaimed the English-
man. He was now more than ever con-
vinced that “ Green Dress” could aid him
in accomplishing his object, and he was de-
termined to bargain with her, and to accede
to her terms, no matter what they were.
Besides, he was doubtful whether any thing
could be effected by any other power than
money, with those mysterious abductors,
% who seemed to know his plans and antici-
; pate his intentions. If he, Timpson Poth-
4 erby, could effect’ the release of Annie, with-
out placing himself under any further obli-
: gations to Hanson, it would, as he thought,
ie take a great load off his mind.

 

“ Where is Bassett’s mill ?” he asked.
: “ About three miles from this village,” an-
‘ swered Hanson, “on a road that leads off

from the Triggville turnpike. We must
start out and reach the place as soon as
possible, before Miss Potherby is removed to
some other place of concealment. Where
is Limber Jim ?”

Ss Tim Tupper explained that the long
. gentleman had gone off in search of ‘the

 

 

Be lady in the green dress.
ae, “TJ hope he will have better luck than
q you had,” said Harry. “But I see him
2 coming up the street, and we will soon hear
= his report.”

In a few minutes Limber Jim came strid-
ing up to them, with an expression of satis-
ec faction on his gaunt and yellow countenance.
C “ Treckon I treed that thar’ coon,” said he,
as he grounded hisrifle. “I got a, sight of
that thar’ gal in the green gown and red
bonnet with yaller strings, and I jest foller-
ed her up, to see whar’ she went to, and I
treed her at an old house not fur from here,
what they said was called Bassett’s mill.”

“Bassett’s mill!” again exclaimed Mr.

“assurance doubly sure,” and he had not

| Bassett’ Mill.

former seemed elated, like a man who has .

’ been listening, with the light of wisdom

-odder place, den de fust thing is, to find out

-Potherby. His conviction had now become |

the least doubt that at this Bassett’s mill he

   
    

   
 

would not ity find his lost Aw
effect her release by means of ‘the m
ous woman in green,

“T tole you so,” said old Reub, who ha

   
  
     
   
  
   
   
   
   
 
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
  
   
   
  

beaming in his sable countenance. “
now eberything is plain, and we don’t
through de glass darkness no more. If dat
dar gal was took to dat dar mill, and hain’t |
been ground up afore dis, den she’s eider —
dar yit, or hab been took to some odder ‘y
place. If she’s dar yit, den dar’s de place
to look fur her; if she’s been took to some ™

whar’ dat odder place is. But, afore we —
hunt fur dat odder place, we ought to look
in de place whar she’s most likely to be,
and dat’s de place whar’ she last went to.
Do you see de p’int ?”

The opinion of Reub was generally con-
curred in, and the party bid farewell to Tip- —
ton, leaving their “ good-byes” for Mr. Rol-
lins, and ‘started off up the Triggville turn-
pike. a

 

CHAP TER xeric

Bassett's Mill—A Council of War—A Recon
noissance—Potherby’s Appointment.

Ir was near dusk when our travelers turn-
ed from the Triggville turnpike into a road,
narrow and little used, which led out of that
thoroughfare toward the east. * After walk-
ing in this road a short distance, they came
in sight of Bassett’s mill, and paused to hold ‘es
a council of war. e

If that building had ever been a mill, ts ,
milling days had long been over, for there
was nothing in its appearance or its sur-
roundings to induce the belief that it h
ever been used for such a purpose. It was
a common, unpainted, two-story house,
standing isolated in the middle of a a ;
plot of ground, which appeared to have for
merly been cultivated.

heavy wooden shutters, both in the low
and upper stories, were also closed. —
living thing could be seen around the

     
    
 
   
 
       
 
 
    

  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
    
 
  
 
  
 

 

' opinion as to the proper course to be pur-

‘the door, and ask admittance, arguing that
if their application was not answered, they
- could then force an entry into the house, and
- determine whether it was occupied; and if
.. ‘they were refused admittance, they might
_ safely conclude that the lost young lady was
‘concealed there, and might then devise
, Means to rescue her. The advice of Bill
Wilson might be contained in the pithy sen-
tence, “ Go in, lemons, if you do get squeez-
ed.” His plan was, to break in the door,
‘incontinently capture the inmates, and, as he
- expressed it, “play thunder generally.” Lim-
ber Jim, more cautious and patient, proposed
_ that the house should be declared in a state
of siege, and that they should take their sta-
‘tions around it like the different corps of a
besieging army, and eitier starve the enemy
into surrender, or capture them, if they
should attempt to cut their way out. .Tim
',. Tupper had no opinion, except that he
‘oped they wouldn’t ’ave to stay out there
hall night.” Uncle Reub, as a matter of
- course, had an opinion, and he expressed
_ it, in his usual emphatic and logical man-
eee s 7
“Tf dat dar gal,” said he, “is inside ob
dat dar house, den dar’s somebody inside ob
dar, who won’t let her git out ob dar. If
‘dey want to keep de gal in dar, den dey
won't let us git in dar, so long as dey ken
keep us out’ob dar. If dey’d jist come out
ob dar, den we'd know how many ob ’em
-. dar was; but if dey won’t come out ob dar,
- den dar ain’t nobody in dar, or dey don’t
- Want to let us know who zs in dar. Dar-
' fore, I say, as master Limber Jim says, dat
de best way what we kin do, is to lay around
dar, till somebody comes out ob dar, or we
_ ken see a chance to sneak in dar. I reckon
it won’t be long afore somebody comes out

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 

_ in dar, she won't stay dar long, fur sartin,
"less she’s held. She jist hab got so much
_/nateral cur’osity, like all de women-folks,
dat it won’t be long afore she’s peepin’ out
_ somewhar’. ee
_ As for Mr. Potherby, he had an opinion,
also, but did not deem it prudent to express
“it; He had pinned his faith to the hanging
' sleeve of the green silk dress. He was won-
r derfully calm and patient, for he thought

 
  
 
   
 

     
     
      
  
       
   

  
  
 

out of, all his difficulties. , He now knew
where Bassett’s mill was, ha was sure that
‘could. ays find the large oak near the

 

The Willing Captive.

sued. Hanson thought it best to knock at

ob dar, cause if dat gal ir de green dress is.

that he. would soon be able to see his way .

cross-roads beyond the mill. It would he
easy to steal away from his companions,
under cover of the night, and repair ta the

rendezvous, Where he was to meet the mys-

terious author of the two notes. The resto-
ration of his child would then be only a
question of money, and he would have the
satisfaction of triumphing over the rest,
especially over Hanson.

Although Harry Hanson was the only
upholder of his own opinion, his position as
leader of the expedition, and the assent of
Mr. Potherby, caused it to be decided that
his plan should be first tried.

Accordingly, leaving the rest of the party
concealed in the wood, he walked up the
lane, accompanied by Bill Wilson, until he
reached the house. Then he stepped bold-
ly to the door, and knocked at it loudly.
There was no reply, and the inside of the
house was as silent as death. Wilson rap-
ped with the butt of his rifle, but failed to
elicit a response. Then Harry picked up a
stone, and beat against the door, as if he
was endeayoring to break it in. The door
was of stout oak, and showed no signs of
giving way, but this boisterous appeal had
the effect of causing those within to give
evidence of their existence.

“Who's there ?” asked a gruff voice from
above.

“Strangers and friends.”

“ You can’t be both strangers and friends,”
said the voice, as a shutter was slightly
opened. “ Who are you ?”

“Strangers, who. want lodging for the
night.”

“ You can’t get it here ; so you had better
be off.”

“Js there a young lady in there with
you?” asked Hanson,

“None of your business. If you don’t go
about your business, you will get a bullet
through you.”

“Open this door,” yelled Bill Wilson, “ or
I will break it down !”

The only reply was a pistol-shot, as the
shutter was suddenly thrown open, and
hastily closed.

Hanson and his friend, in the language
of military reporters, retired in good order,
and fell back on their friends and to the
coyer of the woods.

Another brief council of war was held, at
which it was decided that the young lady,
beyond doubt, was in the building, and that
the plan of Limber Jim must be adopted
for the present, and the house must be

 

 

Ba @

: um ide teal ea
 

surrounded, and carefully watched until
2 / morning.

: The besieging forces then strengthened
themselves for the duties of the night, by
partaking of some crackers and cheese and
dried beef, that they had ne at
Tipton.

This repast finished, they built a fire in
the wood, at which three of them were to
remain, and sieep, if they could, while the
other three were to keep watch around the
house. Hanson, Wilson and Reub were to
be the first detachment to “ go. on picket,”
and the others were to relieve them at twelve
o'clock, or thereabouts.

Limber Jim replenished the fire, and then,
in company with Tim Tupper, stretched
} himself out beside it. It was not long be-
fore both were sleeping and snoring.

Mr. Potherby sat up by the fire, gazing
intently at the burning sticks, and commun-
ing with himself. His thoughts were of the
lady in the green dress.

Time passed, though slowly, as he sat and

pondered, and, at last, after frequently refer-
ring to his watch, he perceived that it was
half-past ten. His time had come, his com-
panions were sleeping, and none could tell
E why or whither he had gone.
; He walked, as silently as possible, through
the wood, until he had passed the grassy
plat on which stood Bassett’s mill, and then
stepped out into the lane. There was no
moon, but the night was clear and starlit,
and he could see quite plainly.

He soon reached a cross-road, which he
immediately concluded must be that men-
tioned in the note, as he saw, directly be-
yond the crossing, an immense oak, with
q great, spreading branches.

a On. looking at his watch, for there was
-. light enough to enable him to tell the time,
Mr. Potherby saw that it was not yet eleven
; o’clock, but he took his station under the
ba oak, and looked around.
=. He had not long to wait. There was
_ soon a breaking of twigs, a rustling of silk,
: a light step on the grass, and then the green
dress, with the owner inside of it, stood be-
fore him.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV.

_ Potherby experiences a New ee Re-
laable Contraband.

‘, “So you have come, ” said the mysterious
aady, in a clear, sweet and musical voice.

Ae 3 Dok

t
te

light,

time? r

Bassett’s mill.” 1, ae RO.
y

  
    
 
   
    
 
   
  
   
   
    
  
  
     
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
 

be in ‘no “danger”

“You see that Ihave dared to come,” said
Potherby. “I am notso great a coward as
you seem to think me, and I am sure that. A, Tee
fair lady would do me no harm.” rT

“You had better not be too certain one:
that,’ said the unknown, “ Bsn have
thorns.”

“May I ask to see your face? When I
make a bargain, I always wish to know ae
whom I am bargaining. 7

S Can sir. Iam not ashamed of my —
face.”

* She need not have been, for as she threw im
back her yail upon the light shawl that was. .
bewitchingly fastened, in some mysterious —
manner, about her head, she revealed one of —
the loveliest countenances that Potherby had
ever looked upon. He wished for more *
that he might comprehend its full —
beauty, but there was enough to enable him
to determine that she was a most splendid _
brunette, who might be about twenty-five
years of age. ‘

“Well, “sir,” said the unknown, laughing-
ly, as the Briton gazed at her in silence, “I
hope you are satisfied, and are not afraid
that I will hurt you.” ;

“T could have no fear of a being so ae
answered Potherby. “I only wonder ho
so much beauty can consort with robbers: t
and outlaws !”

“How do you know that I consort with
such 2” asked the lady. “ And if I do, is it
necessarily of my own will? Can you ea
no allowances for' compulsion ? are ae.

“Ts it possible,” eagerly asked Potherby
“that you are in the power of those law-
less men who haye ahi 529 me of my)
daughter ?” ve

“Tt is not only possible,” she answered
in mournful tones, “but it is the, bend
truth.” en

“Can you not be rescued from. them, and é
restored to the bright world which you
seem so well fitted to adorn? e

 

   

“Tt might be.” mete
«Where is my daughter 2?” ©9959 ji ar
“Tn the old building bia. Anew ag,

 
  

  

    
 
 

   

“Ts she safe, and free from. ea
“She is. Though held as’a prisoner,

      
 
  
   
  
   
    
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
    
   
    
  
 

ait
ji t
‘ ¥

 

has been kindly treated. She is*such a
sweet child,” exclaimed the unknown, with
great enthusiasm, “so lovely, so amiable, and
so interesting! I knew that the father of
such a bright and beautiful being must have
a truly noble nature. As soon as I saw
her, I became deeply interested in her; and
“when she spoke of her father, I felt a strange
desire to know him. I saw you at Bens-
ley’s, sir, although unseen by you, and saw
you more than once at Tipton, and,” she
continued, blushing deeply, ‘“‘my expecta-
_ tions were fully realized. I did not won-
_. der that your Annie was proud of her
parent.”

“ How is it,” asked the delighted Pother-
by, delighted by. the sweet incense that this
mysterious being burned upon the altar of

his vanity, “that you have been around us,

_ and haye known our intentions, our very
thoughts, and yet we have never seen
you?”

“ Oh, I have the receipt of fern-seed, and

pass invisible.”

“ Such beauty as yours ought never to be
invisible.”

“There, sir; you are carrying your flat-
tery to the full limit, of propriety, and I
must not listen to you. I have but a mo-

- ment to stay.”

“Suppose I should detain you, and pre-

vent you from returning to that den ?”

“T hardly think you could do that,” ans-
wered the unknown, producing a small pis-
tol, “as I am called an excellent shot. But
you should think of your daughter, sir, and
—and me. Can you undertake to rescue
her—to rescue us? Are you bold enough
to make the attempt, if I will show the
way ?”

“JT am,” answered Potherby, very reso-
lutely. “I would go through any thing,
would dare any peril, to recover my child,
and to save you from the power of those
wretches.”

“Jt is a bargain, then,” said the lady,
_“ and here is my. hand on it.”

Mr. Potherby blushed and almost trem-
‘bled, as he took that warm and tender hand
in his.

“Ts a bargain,” continued the fair un-
peeeny and if we are both ae and

   
   
   
   
    
 
   
   
  
 

       
      
    
   
   
  

   
 

os: 2 night. you will be placed on ae near the
~~ mill. You need not look surprised, for it
is easy to guess that. You will mect me,
st ‘then—” “ ¥ y

She suddenly withdrew her hand from

   
  
 

   

Cert The ‘Willing Captive.

his, for steps were heard, coming ( rough
the wood.

“ You have cheated me, sir !”’ she exclaim-
ed, angrily. ‘“ You did not come alone, as I
believed you had. But I know how to re-
pay you. You may whistle for your daugh-
ter now, and you shall not see me again.
Good-by, Mr. Potherby, good-by.”

With a mocking laugh, she suddenly van-
ished, and the confused and dismayed Eng-
lishman could not tell whither she had
gone.

Just then Bill Wilson dashed up to him.

“ Ah, Mr. Potherby,” he said,“ is it you?
I thought I heard two voices. Wasn’t there
a woman here? Where has she gone ?”

“That way,” said Potherby, throwing his
arm wildly around. “ Follow her !”

Wilson hastened on, but he mightas well
have pursued a will-o-wisp, for he saw
nothing of the green dress.

Mr. Potherby, dejected and perplexed,
walked moodily back to the camp-fire.

While our Briton had been ruminating
by the fire, and while he was keeping his
appointment with the mysterious lady in
green, uncle Reub had made a discovery.

The “science” darkey loved the night,
for it reminded him of coon-hunting, and
of clandestine meetings with dark-skinned
maidens in Ole Virginny, in his younger
days; but he disliked standing guard. It
did not suit him to remain so long in one
place, with no one to talk to. He felt that
it would be impossible for him to keep
awake, unless he sought some kind of ex-
citement.

“Wharebber dar’s a house,” he solilo-
quized, “dar ought allers to be a chicken-
coop. Dar’s a house here, but whar’s de
chicken-coop? If dar’s a chicken-coop any
whar’ "bout here, dis chile is bound to find
it, and den I ken cook a chicken fur de
furrener’s breakfuss.”

Slowly and cautiously he crept along the
side of the house, going as near to it as he
dared, but could see no chicken-coop, nor
any thing that looked like one. Moving
around to the rear of the house, he found
himself near a small clump of bushes, in
which he heard a rustling.

“Tf dar ain’t chickens in dar,” he said,
“it’s some kind ob’a varmint.”

He stole softly up to the bushes. All
was silent, but Reub was satisfied that there
was “ sumfin’ in dar.” Raising himself up,
he looked in among the leaves and branches,
and sav, lying on the ground, with his head.

 

 
 

 

 

Potherby’s

.

J
hid under a brush like an ostrich, a young
male African.

As quick as thought Reub reached in his

“arm, grasped the small piece of ebony by

the ankle, and dragged him, squealing and
squirming, out of the bushes.

“ Hush up dat noise, you young varmint,”
said Reub, shaking his captive severely, “ or
Tll wring your neck like a chicken.”

As this threat. was accompanied by a
very hard squeeze of his throat, the boy be-
came quiet, and submitted to being led along
by the arm to the place where Harry Han-
son was supposed to be keeping watch.

“ Here, Mr. Hanson,” said Reub, “is a
little feller what I cotch. He’s de prisoner
ob my bow and spear.”

“Take him over to the fire, and send .
Limber Jim out here.”

The captive was taken to the camp-fire,
Limber Jim was roused up, and soon Han-
son came to examine the prize.

Reub made the small African stand up
before him, and bent upon him a glance
full of wisdom and severity.

“Young nigger,” said he, “do you un-
derstand de natur’ ob an oaf?”

“Don’t no nuffin’ "bout dat,” doggedly
replied the youngster.

“Do you know what de Great Supremer
will do to little niggers what he cotches in
tellin’ lies ?”

“ No.”

“ He'll punish em, wuss’n any white man
ebber could.”

“ What he flog wid?”

“ Wid whips ob scorpions and rods ob
libbin’ fiah !”

“Den he shan't cotch me/”

“Now jist listen to me, little nigger,”
said Reub, shaking his forefinger impress-
ively. ‘“ Answer de questions what dis
gen’leman and I is gwine to put to you, and
answer ’em widout any prevallycation or:
percastination, or I'll wring your neck.
Fustly, and in de fust place, is dar any
chickens ’bout here ?”

“No; and dar hain’t been none, dis long
while.”

“Do you belong in that house?” asked
Hanson.

“Yes, mars’r, and I was tryin’ to sneak
in when dat ole nigger cotch me.”

“Ts there a young lady in the house ?”

* Yes, mars’r, two ob ’em.,” .

“T speak of a very beautiful young lady.”

“Dey’s bof ob ’em so purty, dat I don’t

; know which you means,”

 

ee be ca and. ; Mr.

  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
   
 
 
  
   
  
  
    
 
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
    
   
  
    
    

Promise.
“TI mean the youngest.
treated ?” :
“T reckon so. She gits ae 6 eat ;
and drink, and ’pears to take it easy.” t
“How many men are in the house ?”
“Dunno, mars’r; six or sebben, I ’spect.”
“ Are they ar med 2 ve
“ Dey’s all got gins and sech things.”
“That will do for the present. Reub, take
care of that boy, and don’t let him escape.
I wonder where Mr. Potherby is ?” ;
That gentleman, who had been standing ;
behind them, listening to the latter part of : :
the young darkey’ $ examination, now came
forward, and told Hanson that he desired
to speak with him privately.
The young man rose, with a look of sur-
prise, and accompanied him a ‘short dis-
tance from the fire, i

OHAPT ERY RY: 255

On Guard—Potherby receives another Totten
—Enter Morpheus.

Mr. Pornersy seemed hardly to know _
what to say. He was, as we hare OG
dejected and perplexed.

“Mr. Hanson,” said he, at last, turning
around abruptly, “do you love my daugh-
ter ?” :

“T do, sir; with all my heart.”

“Tf you wish to gain her, open thats”
house, and restore her to me. Open that.
house, sir, and capture all who may be
within it, including that—a—young lady
in green, and she shall be‘yours.” —

“Thank you !” exclaimed Harry. “Thank
you, Mr. Potherby. I hope you will believe.
me, when I say that I did not need this i ines
centive to use my best exertions to rescue: —
her; but I can not express to you how hap-
py your words have made me. You may —
rest assured, sir, that every thing that lies
within my power and that of my rier
shall be done, and I have no doubt’that be- ;
fore another sun sets she will be restored to |
you. But you spoke of a lady. in, roea !
Haye you seen such a person ?””

Mr. Potherby then gave Harry, a partial:
account of his appointment and, interviews
with that mysterious female.,

“Tn the morning,” said, he, when Mr.
Potherby had concluded, “that ‘house
be opened, if there is any-strength in the
arms of myself and my friends.

    

 
 

      
  

  

 
   
       
     
    
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
   
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
    
 
 
 

shall claim the performance of your
promise. To-night'we can do nothing, ex-
cept to keep a careful guard about the house
until morning. As it is now your watch, I
Will keep it with you.”

_ Hanson then took the Englishman to the
scene of action, and assigned him his sta-
tion, behind a stump, in full view of the front
door of the house. The young man then

passed around to the rear of the building,
_ to look for Limber Jim.

Mr. Potherby had not been long in his
_ position when his attention was attracted to
one of the side windows of the house. He
‘was sure that he could see light through the
- ereyices of the shutter, and fancied that it
Was partially opened and closed again.
+. Whether his fancy deceived him in this, or
whether it did not, he was certainly not de-
ceived when he saw that same shutter
‘suddenly thrown open, and as suddenly
shut to. There was nothing very extra-
_ ordinary in this, but in that brief interval
“between the opening and closing, a white
arm had been thrust out, and a scrap of
‘paper dropped from the window, and fell
fluttering to the ground.
Mr. Potherby was excited. Heedless of
_ danger or exposure, he rushed to the house,
picked up the paper, and hastened back to
his post. Crouching down behind the
stump, he drew a box of matches from his
_» pocket, lit them, one after another, and at
~ last succeeded in deciphering the contents
of the note. Mr. Potherby was actually
- disappointed, it must be confessed, at seeing

‘that it was from his daughter. It had
_been hastily written in pencil, and read as
_ follows:

_-“Dear Pa—I am safe, and am kindly
treated. Do not fear, but be patient. I
am sure that I can easily be released in the
_ morning, if I am not taken away from here.

_ Let the house be carefully watched to-night,
- and all will be well. Kate.says—” °
_ Here the note ended abruptly, without sig-
nature, as if the writer had been interrupted.

When Mr. Potherby had finished this
» scrawl, he experienced a strange mixture of
emotions. There was a feeling of satis-
i » faction in the belief that Annie would

ey, econ be released, but how, and by whose

 

   
   
 
 
  
 

= o, therefore, must come from

  
 

 

The Willing Captive.

. *“ Kate: ae was the conclasion.

 

she say? Of course she must be the mys-
terious lady in green, and Mr. Potherby
would have given considerable if the note
had not ended so abruptly. It was evident,
however, that Annie would be freed, by the
aid, as he believed, of that same dark-eyed
beauty, and in the morning he would see
them both. It would be so easily done,
without the aid of Harry Hanson and his
friends. Mr. Potherby began to believe
that he had acted very rashly in promising
the young man that Annie should be his,
and he mentally resolved to draw out of the
agreement, if he could do so with any ap-
pearance of decency. He had fully made
up his mind to this, when Hanson, who was
returning from Limber Jim’s station, again
approached him.

“Have you seen any thing, sir?” asked
the young man.

“ Nothing in particular, ” answered Poth-
erby, and, as the’ sagacious reader will per-
cieve, he—prevaricated. “ Mr.—a—Han-
son,” he continued, “ I—a—it seems to me
—that is, I am afraid, sir, that I must have
said something, sir, in a moment of excite-
ment, that was—a—really, Mr.—a—Han-
son, something rash, and—a—dquite absurd,
you know.”

‘ “To what do you refer?” asked the
young man.

“To what I may have said with reference
to my daughter—to Miss Annie Potherby.
I may have said something about permitting
her to become your—a—wife, in a certain
contingency ; but of course, Mr.—a—Han-
son, you caan’t have considered it as being
really in earnest, and as a binding thing.

‘It would be—a—really, quite out of the

question, you know.”

“T certainly did suppose that you were
in earnest,” said Harry, “and am surprised
to hear you assert the contrary. Butif you
wish to retract your promise, Mr. Potherby,
you haye the power to do so, and I can
only say, that I hope you may never have
cause to regret the exercise of that power.”

“ So it is settled,’ said Potherby, feeling
much relieved, but looking quite sheepish.
“Tam glad tosee, my young friend, that you

are so reasonable, and hope that we shall —

succeed in our undertaking.”

“T shall do my best, sir, without regard
to your strange decision. I have told you,
Mr. Potherby, that I needed no incentive to
cause me to use my best exertions in behalf
of your daughter, and my efforts shall not :
be relaxed. But I must not stay hereand

 

 

  
 

 

2

tally a8 there is work to be done. Limber
Jim is on the other side of-the house; I
will guard the rear portion and the west
side, and leave you here to watch the front
door. If you see any thing strange let me
know,-and if any one attempts to leave the
house, be sure to give the alarm immedi-
ately. Good-night, sir.”

When the young man had left him, Poth-
erby sat down by the side of his stump and fell
into a reverie.
was not accustomed to loss of sleep. He had
been excited, also, and excitement always fa-
 tigued him. Now the reaction had come,
and he felt heavy and languid. He yawned,
stretched himself, pulled’ his nose, and
rubbed his head ; but all would not do, and
he unconsciously yielded himself up to
“tired Nature’s sweet restorer, balmy
sleep.” His head drooped upon his breast,
rand he was soon wrapped in a sound
slumber.

CHAPTER XVI.

Sad Avukening of Potherby—On the Trail.
Bint Wixson, after his vain pursuit of
the lady in green, souvfeht the camp-fire, and
_ stretched himself out on the ground for a
snooze, ‘fi company with Tim Tupper.
Uncle Reub thought that his honor, as well
as his duty, bound him to keep awake and
guard his prisoner, but the example of his
two comrades was contagious, and he felt
himself unequal to the task. He tied one
end of his bandana handkerchief, in the
hardest possible kind of a knot, around the

wrist of the small African, and tied the other.

end around his own wrist, considering it
unnecessary to knot that end so tightly.
Then he assured the captive that he could
not possibly get away, advised him to go to
sleep, closed his own eyes, and soon struck
up an accompaniment to the snores of Tim
Tupper.

Bill Wilson, having an easy conscience,
and being accustomed to life in the woods,
slept soundly and well; but it was long be-
fore sunrise, and the gray light of dawn
was quite faint, when he opened his eyes,
rose, shook himself, and looked around. His
first. act was to awaken Reub, and he was
obliged to shake him severely. At last, the
deep slumber of the old darkey was broken,
and he sat up, looked at the ground on his
Tight, then at his wrist, and then seed
weeyres around,

Watching and Waking.

He had lost much sleep, and *

   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
   
 
   
   
 
   
  
  
    
    
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
   
    
  
  
    
  
    
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
  

“ Whar’s dat little nigger gone ” nf

“He has slipped away,” eae
son, “ while you were asleep.”

“But I tied his wrist to my wrist;
he’s gone run off wid he handkercher,
How’s dat ?” Ne

“He has slipped the handkerchief off
from your wrist, Reub, or has untied it. Did
you make it fast well on your wrist?”

“ Wha—wha—whar's he use, Mars’r Bill, |
ob tyin’ it to my wrist? It wasn’t me Ir

was fastenin’ np but de boy.”

“You see that he must have loosened i i
from your wrist.” Z

“T tell you, Mars’r Bill, de boy was. ‘tied
as tight as any thin’ could be. Dar’s ia
fin’ strange ’bout dat.”

Tim Tupper was next shaken up, a a
dream of his “ neat little public” was aes
disturbed.

Wilson, then led his party through the
wood, on the east side of the house, until
he reached the place where Limber Jim
was stationed.

“ Good-morning, Jim,” was ‘his mole
to that worthy. “Has any thing happened -
since you have been on watch ? y <a

“ Nothin’ at all. Hain’t seen nor hear
nothin’. Glad ye’ve come, fur ’twas gettin’ —
kinder lonesome out here. I had jest al-
lowed that I'd step around to the front and
see how the Englishman is comin’ on, as
Cap’n Hanson gaid he’d stuck him out
there.”

“Come along, then. We will go with Once ;

Marching out into the grassy plot, they
had nearly reached the front of the house,
when Limber Jim suddenly stopped, and
signed to the others to halt.

“Tl be dogoned,” he- whispered, .
thar’ ain't one of the critters! Leastwa
it’s some kind of a female woman.” ;

“ Where ?” asked Wilson.

“Don’t ye see her? Jist alongside of :
that stump yonder. Don’t ye see a woman
in a big straw bonnet and a red shawl?”

Yen. she seems to be asleep.
the name of wonder, did she get ther and
what is she there for?” ss ve

“ Nothin’ like goin’ and seein’. Co
along, fellers, and step easy.”

Quietly and carefully they stole up
the stump, until they were. within a
feet of it.

“Dogoned ef she hain’t got. on. I (
and breeches !” whispered _ Limber —

E ’Sh-sh-sh, boys: ed sky

 

 

 

 

  
 
 
 
  
 
   

 
   
   
   
     
 

 

  

  
 

   
 

   
    
   
  
   
   

 

-§ure enough, propped up against the
‘stump, with his legs spread out, and with
the soles of his stout gaiters turned toward
_ them, there sat Timpson Potherby, Esq.
- On his head, which drooped forward upon
his breast, was placed a long, coal-scuttle-

shaped straw-bonnet, and a large, old-
fashioned, red shawl, was thrown over his
shoulders, and pinned in front. He was
evidently alive, for he was snoring audibly.

“Wait here a moment,” said Wilson,
_ suppressing a laugh, “cand keep perfectly

- quiet while I go and call Mr. Hanson.”

He soon returned with Harry, who was
obliged to stuff his handkerchief in his
mouth, to repress his laughter, as he looked
at the grotesque object before him.

“Tl be dograbbited,” said Limber Jim,
“ ef this ain’t a huckleberry above my per-
simmon !”

“Wake up, Mr. Potherby! Wake up!”
said Hanson, shaking the Englishman by
the shoulder. “ What is the matter! Have
you been asleep ?”

Potherby raised his head, stared around
in bewilderment, and then suddenly started
up.

“ Gracious ’eavens !” he exclaimed. “ Have
I been asleep ?”

He looked down at the large ms awl that
was wrapped around him, and felt of the

rst ungainly bonnet that covered his head, and

_ his surprise and disgust overcame him.
“ What is this?” he asked. “ What does
it mean? Where am J, and where did this
ugly apparel come from ?”
“Tt is plain, Mr. Potherby,’ answered

_ Hanson, “that you have been sleeping on
be your post, and it is probable that the people
who were in that house have taken advan-
tage of your condition. It is te be hoped
_ that they have not escaped.”
; “Escaped !” groaned Potherby. “ They
have! ‘They must have escaped! Oh Lord,
_ what is to be done now? Break open the
house, and search for them everywhere !”
: The Englishman then rushed madly to
_ the door of the mill, forgetting to lay aside
_ his bonnet and shawl. The door opened
‘easily as he threw himself against it, and
he fell head-foremost inside, followed more
"leisurely by the others. Potherby picked
_ himself up, rubbed his nose, and tore off his
female “ duds.”

_ Then the house was searched from top to
“bottom, but no living being was found with-
om th one of the rooms were a few

  

The Willing Captive. ;

and on one of the chairs hung a green silk
dress, surmounted by a red hat.

“Mr. Potherby,” said Hanson, “ they are
gone. They have escaped us for the pres-
ent. But let us not be downhearted. We
must lose no time in commencing the
search again.”

“Mr. Hanson,” exclaimed the Briton,
grasping the hand of the young man, “it
is all my fault. It is a judgment upon me,
sir, for breaking my word. The -evil spirit
that prompted me to withdraw my promise
to you, put me to sleep, and now I have
lost my child, just when I thought that I
would surely recover her. Search for her,
Mr. Hanson; restore her to me, and I
solemnly promise you, before these wit-
nesses, that she shall be your wife.”

“T will search for her,” answered Han-
son, “and I will recover her. There shall
be no mistake about it this time. But you
had better get something to eat, if there 1s
any thing eatable left, and in the mean time
Wilson and I will endeavor to discover
some trace, by which we can determine in
what direction they have gone.”

*Tim Tupper’s bag was produced, but
Mr. Potherby could hardly be persuaded to
touch the frugal luncheon. He did not
attempt to conceal his anxiety, and waited,
disconsolately and impatiently, for the ap-
pearance of Hanson.

In the course of half an- hour that young
gentleman returned, and there was an ex-
ultant smile on his handsome countenance.

“T have struck the trail, Mr, Potherby,”
he said. “They have gone down the road,
as we can plainly see the prints of two
pairs of ladies’ shoes in the dust. Come,
sir; we have no time to lose.”

Mr. Potherby started up, and Hanson led
the way to the road, followed by the rest of
the party.

Bill Wilson, with his eyes bent upon the
ground, took the advance, and his com-
panions followed in mixed order. He had
not gone half a mile, when he suddenly
stopped.

“T have lost the trail,” he said. “They
have not gone any further in this direction.
They must have struck into the timber.”

“Come on,” said-Hanson, plunging into
the wood. “ We will soon find them.”

Shortly he motioned to his friends to |
move quietly, and crept forward, slowly and
cautiously, until he reached the edge of a-
small dell, or ravine, over the edge of which
he looked... When the others had come up,

  

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

he whispered to them to crouch down, <a
pointed into the ravine.

Through the dell ran a little brook, near
which were seated, on the grass, a gentle-
man, well dressed and good looking, and two
ladies, in one of whom Potherby recognized
his daughter, and in the other the dark-eyed
beauty who had been the wearer of ‘ the
green dress. She was now tastefully attired
in traveling costume, and really looked like
a civilized creature. A luncheon was
spread out before them, and the three seemed
to be enjoying themselves as if they were on
a picnic.

“Wait here, and be quiet,” said Hanson,
“while Wilson and I go to the other side of
the ravine’ When you see us rush down
upon them, you must do the same.”

Mr. Potherby waited impatiently, until he
saw Hanson and his friend emerge fromthe
thicket on the other side, and then, followed
by Limber Jim, Tim Tupper and Reub, he
scrambled down towaid the brook.

“Surrender !” exclaimed Hanson, as he
darted upon the one man.

“ Well, really,” said that individual, quite
coolly, ‘as I am surprised and outnumber-
ed, I don’t see that there is any thing else
left for me to do. Is it all right, Harry ?”
he continued, in a whisper.

“All right now, my boy. TI will let you
know when it is to come off.”

Annie Potherby: was locked in her fath-
er’s arms, and the dark-eyed lady stood by
the brook, smiling very “ audibly.”

“ Whar’s dat young nigger what’s got my
handkercher ?” asked old Reub.

But no one deigned to answer him, and
no small African was forthcoming.

“ Well, gentlemen,” said the good-looking

» young man, who had been captured, “ you

have overreached us at last, and it seems
that our game is played out. It only re-
mains to bid you good-by. You will find
some cold chicken and sandwiches in that
basket, with a bottle of wine. Come,
Kate.”

“Farewell, Annie,” said dark-eyes. “TI
hope to meet you under happier auspices.
Good-by, Mr. Potherby, good-by.”

With a mocking laugh she accepted the
arm that the young man offered her, and
the two walked away through the wood.

“Why did you not detain them, Hanson,
and give them into custody?” asked Poth-

 erby, astounded by this sudden leave-taking.
' “Tt would be useless,” answered Harry,

_Potheroy Whatua:

‘daughter, and the circumstances connected

  

_ Who was standing by, Annie, and holding band and the Fmage ree soon discoy

    
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
    
 
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
    
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
 

her hand ; “ for the law is piven ‘her isa
and if you were obljged to appear as a wit-
country for a year or more. No, sir; we
have gained our prize, we have recovered —
Annie, and we cun afford to builda goin
bridge for a flying enemy.”

“ Dose dar vittles,” said old Reub, as hein
picked up the basket, “is wuff holdin’ —
onto.” “fe

CHAPTER XVII.

Dark-Eyes again—Potherby Astonished—_
An Huplanation and an Alliance.

Our party walked back to Tipton. ‘The |
election was over, and the free and inde- —
pendent citizens were sleeping off their ex-
citement;'so the village was reasonably
quiet. Hanson succeeded, though with con-
siderable difficulty, in procuring a convey- —
ance and a driver, to carry Mr. Potherby,
Annie and himself, with Tim Tupper, tothe
nearest town on the river, where they took —
the first steamboat for Louisville. Xan

Bill Wilson and Limber Jim returned to
Cairo by their own route, full of “a good —
story for the boys,” and old Reub, having ~
been duly rewarded by Harry, accompanied — fy
them, to be again henpecked by old Lize,
and to account to her, as well as he COME by
for “ dat dar handkercher.”

Mr. Potherby was still puzzled. ‘There ©
was something about the abduction of his —

ea

with her rescue, that he could not under--
stand. He also was troubled about ‘the |
dark-eyed beauty who had been known ‘to
him as “Green Dress.” If she was cediies 4
as she had given him to understand, in the’
power of robbers and outlaws, why ‘aid she —
not escape from them, when she had an op- &
portunity to do so? ‘Why did she walk off, 4
so. nonchalantly, with that _ good-looking:
young man? Was he her husband, or her’ ~ Z
lover, or what? Could it be that she had-
been deceiving him? The more Mr. Poth- /
erby meditated upon this intricate eaters
the more he was puzzled.

Harry Hanson had telegraphed to a

 

    
   
    
   
  
  
  

taken the boat, and ~ when they
at Louisville, he found his parents 2
number of friends awaiting him. He n
Mr. Potherby and Annie acquainted

  
    
  
 

  
   
  
  
    
  
  
   
   
  
   
 
   
   
 

that the representations, as to Hanson’s fam-
-_ ily and fortune, had been entirely true. The

beauty and amiability “of Annie were greatly
a admired, and Harry was heartily congratu-

lated. Every thing was satisfactorily ar-
ranged, and it was agreed that the wedding
should take place, as soon as possible, at
Mr. Hanson’s residence, in Frankfort, and
that Annie and her husband should accom-
pany Mr. Potherby to England to spend a
few months.

One night they were all, including Mr.
Potherby, at the theater. The Englishman,
true to his instincts and his education, was

- sweeping pit, parquette and boxes with his

i opera-glass, when he suddenly started, with

a suppressed exclamation, and nearly drop-
ped his glass on the floor.

In a box on the opposite side of the

} house sat the dark-eyed lady who had met

him, at night, under the large oak tree, near

the cross-roads beyond Bassett’s mill! She

-seemed more beautiful than ever, for she
; was richly and splendidly dressed, and
a every thing on her and about her harmoniz-
ed so perfectly with her raven hair, her gor-

geous color, and her magnificent eyes. Poth-
erby was surprised. He was struck dumb
with astonishment. To think that that glo-
rious creature should have lived inthe back-
woods, and should have worn a green dress
and a red hat!
i, He sat like one entranced, while the play
___ lasted, and when the curtain fell, he hasten-
! ed out, to endeavor to catch another glimpse
of the mysterious unknown, and, perhaps,
to learn where she might be found. But
he was disappointed, for she appeared, as
she had once told him, to have the receipt
of fern-seed, and pass invisible. The next
. day the party set out for Frankfort, and
-»Potherby again felt that he had been cheated
out of his rights.

At Frankfort they were enthusiastically
received, the servants upon Mr. Hanson’s
estate turning out to meet them, and getting

up a first-class jubilee for their benefit.

It was not long before the day came
around that had been set for the wedding.
‘ he young couple were married in Mr.
Hanson's residence, which was crowded
with guests, The bride had been duly
given away, the irrevocable words had been
spoken, the blessing had been pronounced,
and the relatives and friends had completed
_ their congratulations, When a gentleman and
lady, both richly dressed, stepped up to the
young husband and wife.

    
  
   
  

   
  
  
    
   
   
  

 
      
   
         
     
       
       
     
   
    

  

The Willing Captive.

“Permit us to congratulate yuu,” said
the gentleman, “as we were somewhat in-
terested in this event.”

“Thank you, Jack,” said Hanson. “ Mr.
Potherby, allow me to make you acquaini-
ed with my friend, Jack Turpie, and Miss
Kate Turpie, his sister.”

Potherby turned around, and started back,
as he noticed the young gentleman who had
been captured in the ravine, and—the dark-
eyed unknown!

“Your friend !” he exclaimed.
Ido not understand this.
explanation.”

“Never mind that, Mr. Potherby,” said
dark-eyes, smiling archly at the Englishman.
“Our little difficulty is all over and forgot-
ten, you,know. We must let bygones be
bygones. We are friends now, are we not,
Mr. Potherby ?”

That evening Mr. Potherby complained
of a sudden attack of some mysterious ill-
ness, and announced that he should be
obliged to defer his return to Europe. An-
nie and Hanson, he said, might take a trip
to Niagara Falls, Saratoga and Newport,
until he should recover. Accordingly the
young couple started off on their wedding
tour the next morning.

Kate Turpie remained at Mr. Hanson’s
as a guest of the family, and Mr. Potherby
was much in her society.

One day he was relating to her the ter-

“ Really,
It requires an

‘rible conversation to which he had listened

on the wharf hulk at Cairo.

“T think,” said she, “ that some one must
have been ‘running a rig’ on you, as they
say. The Cairoites are fond of such prac-
tical jokes.”

“Indeed!” he exclaimed. ‘“Do you
really suppose it was all a sham? I am
surprised, for Mr. Hanson seemed to treat
it seriously.”

“That young reprobate can wear a very
sober countenance when he chooses. Wasn’t
he quite serious when he was searching for
Annie, after her sham abduction ?”

“Sham abduction! You really can not
mean to say, Miss Turpie, thut that was
also a hoax ?”

“But I really do,”
with a merry laugh.

answered the lady,
“Tt was all arranged

beforehand, and you must admit that it was .

well managed. As they are safely married
now, it can do no harm to tell you all about
it. ”

She then proceeded to explain the man-»

:

ner in which the “ abduction” was contrived —

 

 

 
erteninetieestaiyn
ee

 

 

«
Turpie-tude.

and on yd out, greatly to the wonder-
ment of the Briton. :

“Then your brother is not a robber and
an outlaw ?” he asked.

“No, indeed. He is the oldest and dear-
est friend of your son-in-law. You now
see, sir, that it is not an easy thing to get
ahead of a Kentucky boy, or a Kentucky
woman, either.”

“Tf Ican not get ahead of a Kentucky
lady,” said Potherby, “I would be very
glad to get a hand of one.”

39

“And a heart with if, Mr. Potherby ?”

“Certainly: it would make me the hap-
piest of men.”

“Then you had better ask for it, sir.”

But this will suffice. Before Hanson and
Annie returned from their wedding tour,
they learned that Mr. Potherby was living
in a state of Turpie-tude, having made the
dark-eyed Kate his wife; and when they
were ready to go to England, the steamer
carried two newly-married couples.

THE BND.

 

 
 
 
 

 

 

Re ammmnenn

BOYS’ BOOKS OF ROMANCE AND ADVENTUR

| —No. 21, ready Thursday, Dec, 81—the day before New Year's. 1] be }sjily good readit

the holiday. It is:

THE WILLING CAPTIVE;

feaa: W.OUOD-F ARD MY S'D bt

BY J. STANLEY , HENDERSON.

A story of Ohio river life, in which an Englishman is made the victim of a serious series of

“sells” that bring him and the other actors into some odd scrapes and queer doings. It is so
| laughable the boys will enjoy it immensely, and ask for more, while in its story proper it is very
| interesting, for there is a lost young lady in the case, and a little love episode which seasons the

whole with sanshine and romance.

 

BOYS BOOKS ALREADY PUBLISHED
No. 1—ROBINSON CRUSOE. A beautifully illustrated edition, polaaa? in large oc-

invo, double columns, with numerous illustrations from original designs by Gkorak Warn

No. 2—ROVING BEN; or, the Cruise of the Adelaide. A Boys’ Tale of Adventure

| by Lund and Sea, By John J. Marshall,

No. 3—PRAIRIE CHICK;; or, The Quaker Among the Red-skins. By J. Stanley .

Ilenderson.

No. oT HE BORDER BOY;; Simon Kenton’s Indian Torture-Ride ; Murphy Saving
the Fort; Mrs. Austin and the Bear,

No. 5 THE GIRL SOLDIER; Joe Logston’s Fig] it with an Indian; General Mor
van’s Prayer; The Johnson Boys’ Escape.

No. 6—MARION’S MEN ; A Great. Hunting Adventure; Elerson’s Famous Race ;
Molly Pitcher at Monmouth. ;

No. 7—-THE BOY SENTINEL; Tecumseh and the Prisoners; Horsewhipping |
Tyrant; A Mother's Trial.

No. 8—THE BOY CAPTIVE * Women Defending the Wagon; Moody, the Refugeg

| The Leap for Life. :
No. 9— fat Ome THE TYRANT ; The Chieftain’s Appeal ; Mrs. Slocum) at Moor

Creek ; Brady’s Le

’

No. 10- KENTON SAVING BOONE; The Minnesota Captive; Stephen Ball

(| Hong by Tories; Mrs. Palmer and Putnam

No. 11—MAD ANN, THE HUNTRESS;; Jacob Wetzel Saved by his Dog; Arnold

and Colonel Brown ; Coacoochee’s Tall

No, 12- -PETER FRANCISCO, THE WESTERN SAMSON; The Indian |

Girl Saving Howard; Hughrs Killing the Turkey; Hamilton Saving his Cloth.

No. 13—- THE DOG AVENGER; Magnanimity of Rohn-yen-ness; Women Captur- |

ing the Hessian ; Battle of Bloody Brook,

No. 14—THE BEAUTIFUL SPY; Wingemund Refusing to Save Crawford ; Owen )

Davis Carving out Court Business ; Sergeant Champe and Capt. Cameron.

No. 15—-ADVENTURES WITH INDIANS AND TORIES; last Blast

of the Trumpeter ; McClure’s Adventures ; oe of Capt. John Steele; Pioneer Life in the West. |

By George Henry Prentice

as

No. 16—-THE TEST SHOT: or, The Marked Bullet. A Story of a Young Hunter’s |

No. 17-SILVER TONGUE, THE DACOTAH QUEEN; «7, Pu Among |

| the Red-skins. A Romance of the Indian Country. By C. L. Edwards,

No. 18—THE WOOD DEMON: A Tale of the Susquehanna, By George Henry |

Prentice.

No. 19—THE YANKEE SCOUT; : or, Haps and Mishaps of the Border, By Jani

: f. Bowen.
No. 20—THE CHILD CAPTIVE; or, The Outlaw Brothers. By John J. Marsha
{ The above books are sold by all newsdealers; or sent, post-paid, 1o any address, on rece
of price—-TaN CENTS EACH .

~ BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers. 98 Wi illiam St., N, Y,

{

 

1